The Root operative instantly understood what Yakushi Kabuto meant.
Without a word, he reached into his cloak and withdrew several sealed glass containers filled with a faintly glowing green preservation fluid. Suspended within each jar were crimson eyes that glimmered in the darkness — the distinctive tomoe patterns spinning faintly in their depths.
The eerie intersection of black and red under the moonlight revealed what they were unmistakably — Sharingan.
Each glass vial contained a piece of the Uchiha Clan's most sacred inheritance, the eyes that symbolized their power.
Kabuto's glasses caught the dim light as he smiled faintly. Without hesitation, he tossed the scroll in his hand toward the Root operative, who, in turn, threw the vials toward him with equal precision.
After verifying the scroll's contents — which included the requested research data and experimental formulae for Danzo Shimura — the Root agent gave a curt nod.
Without further words, he vanished into the night with a blur of movement.
"Whoosh."
As soon as he disappeared, the silence shifted.
"Swish… swish…"
From the shadows behind Kabuto came the faintest trace of movement. A slender silhouette emerged from the darkness, illuminated by a sliver of moonlight breaking through the clouds.
The pale, serpentine face of Orochimaru came into view — his golden slit-pupiled eyes gleaming with predatory calm.
Kabuto immediately bowed.
"Orochimaru-sama."
A cold chuckle escaped the Sannin's lips.
"Heh… that old fool Danzō is still as cautious as ever. Such elaborate effort for a handful of Sharingan…"
Orochimaru's gaze lingered on the direction the Root operative had gone, his tone dripping with contempt.
In truth, what had seemed like a simple exchange between Kabuto and Root had layers of hidden observation. Orochimaru had been present the entire time, his serpentine senses sweeping the area. He had even detected two Root surveillance squads hiding nearby to ensure Kabuto's "loyalty."
But Orochimaru found this amusing rather than threatening.
Between him and Danzō, there was never trust — only mutual exploitation.
They were two men bound by ambition, using one another to reach their separate goals.
Trust, in such men, was nothing but a convenient illusion.
Danzō, who had once betrayed even his closest comrade Hiruzen Sarutobi for power, would never hesitate to betray anyone else — not even Orochimaru.
And Orochimaru, ever pragmatic, only maintained contact with Danzō because the man still had resources he could use.
"How is it?" Orochimaru asked, turning his gaze toward Kabuto. "Everything intact?"
Kabuto adjusted his glasses with a faint smile.
"Yes, Orochimaru-sama. There are two pairs of fully developed three-tomoe Sharingan, and the rest are single-tomoe eyes. The preservation quality is excellent."
He handed over the containers with both hands. Orochimaru took them gently, his long, pale fingers curling around the glass. His pupils dilated as he stared into the crimson depths of the eyes — a mixture of obsession and hunger flashing across his reptilian face.
This… this is the power I seek.
Ever since his defeat at the hands of Uchiha Itachi, Orochimaru's desire to possess the Sharingan had grown into a consuming obsession.
But through his experiments, he had long learned that simply transplanting the eyes was not enough.
The Sharingan was bound by the Uchiha's own genetic code and spiritual energy — a kekkei genkai intertwined with emotion and chakra lineage.
Forcibly embedding it in another body risked rejection and deterioration.
Even Hatake Kakashi, though hailed as the "Copy Ninja," was proof of this limitation. His transplanted eye drained his chakra and shortened his stamina.
Orochimaru understood this flaw better than anyone. These eyes were not for immediate use, but for research — a step toward something greater.
What he sought was not merely an eye, but an entire bloodline.
"And what of Uchiha Sasuke?" Orochimaru asked suddenly, sliding the last vial into his cloak. "Have you confirmed his potential?"
Kabuto hesitated briefly.
"I'm sorry, Orochimaru-sama. From my initial observation, it's too soon to tell. Sasuke hasn't activated his Sharingan publicly yet. I'll gather more data during the next stage of the Chunin Exams."
Indeed, with the timeline altered, Sasuke had not yet undergone a battle intense enough to awaken his Sharingan, as he had originally done in the Land of Waves.
Orochimaru's tongue flicked against his lips, his eyes narrowing with a serpentine smile.
"Heh… no matter. You'll have another opportunity soon enough. If fate doesn't bring him to me…"
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"…then I'll go to him. It's time to give little Sasuke-kun a present. I'm sure Itachi-kun will enjoy watching it unfold."
Orochimaru turned away, his cloak fluttering like black mist as he spoke again.
"Maintain contact with the Sand Village. The plan must proceed without Danzō's interference. That old war hawk doesn't need to know everything."
His tone turned colder with every word, until finally, his entire form began to dissolve into shadow — his body fading into the folds of the night.
"Yes, Orochimaru-sama," Kabuto replied respectfully, bowing until the last trace of the Sannin's chakra signature vanished.
The night grew darker still.
And in the heart of Konoha, beneath the peaceful surface, multiple factions were already moving.
The Leaf, still recovering from past tragedies, now unknowingly approached its next great calamity.
The Next Morning – 8:00 A.M.
According to the official announcement, the second stage of the Chunin Exams was to begin at Training Ground 44 — better known by its ominous name: The Forest of Death.
Despite the name, the training ground was an essential part of Konoha's vast infrastructure.
While the residential district covered only one-third of the village's total area, the rest was dedicated to military training fields, experimental zones, and restricted combat areas.
Training Ground 44 was the most dangerous of them all — an enormous forest teeming with carnivorous plants, massive beasts, and unpredictable terrain.
Menma arrived on time.
Before him stretched a towering wilderness, trees so vast they pierced the morning mist like spears of green stone.
Even he couldn't help but marvel at the sight.
"Impressive," he murmured, eyes glinting.
Beside him, Sakura swallowed nervously, her pink hair brushing against her shoulder.
"This… this is the exam site? It doesn't look safe at all. What kind of test happens here?"
Menma gave a small, calm smile.
"Well, since we were told to gather here, this must be it. As for what kind of test…"
He tilted his head upward.
On the thick branch of a nearby tree stood Mitarashi Anko, her trench coat fluttering as she smirked down at the assembled Genin. A group of Chunin proctors stood behind her.
"…we're about to find out," Menma finished quietly, his gaze fixed on Anko's predatory smile.
"Uh-huh," Sakura murmured, trying to steady herself.