Drip... Drip..
The sound of falling water echoed layer upon layer in the arched space, mixed with the moaning wind that seemed to come from nowhere. A damp, moldy smell wrapped in the scent of old rust rushed forth.
A pitch-black cat crouched in the shadows, its paws toying with a few half-dead white snakes.
Whenever the snakes stopped moving, the black cat would release them. The serpents would struggle and writhe again, only to be firmly pinned down by its soft paw pads, radiating a cruel amusement.
But soon, as if sensing something, the black cat raised its head.
And in that moment, its appearance was revealed.
This pitch-black cat had one black eye and one white eye.
To ordinary people, it was nothing more than a cat blind in one eye.
But no one knew that its white eye was in fact the "Byakugan," the coveted treasure of the other four great ninja villages.
It must be known that the Mist Village jōnin Ao was called the "Byakugan Hunter" simply for possessing a single Byakugan, and was even placed on Konoha's bingo book for it.
No one could possibly imagine that someone would be crazy enough to transplant such a priceless Byakugan… into a cat.
And yet, someone had done just that.
The black cat lowered its head, clamped the dead snake in its mouth, and vanished into a blur, leaping into the shadows of the crisscrossing pipes above, its movements as silent as walking on clouds.
Perched at the corner of a drainage pipe, its white pupil dilated while its black eye narrowed to a thin slit, staring intently at the distant surface of the water.
The murky sewage, deep enough to reach one's knees, shimmered with an oily sheen, reflecting the rust-covered pipes above.
Splash...Splash...
Moments later, ripples spread across the still water as three swift black figures sprinted over the surface, their forms twisting into eerie shapes within the distorted water ripples.
Sarutobi Hiruzen and two Anbu had fought through numerous traps and decoys set by Orochimaru, finally finding the true path within the maze-like underground network.
Such a dark, damp environment could only appeal to snakes and rats. Orochimaru's habits truly seemed to be converging with that of snakes.
"..."
Hiruzen suddenly stopped, his gaze fixed on a rust-covered door ahead. His expression darkened, and he gestured for the Anbu to move forward.
Bang!!
With a muffled crash, the iron door burst open.
An overwhelming stench rushed out.
The pungent rot of corpses mixed with disinfectant and the sickly sweetness of decaying flesh, carried on a cold draft that made one's stomach churn.
The dim yellow light cast eerie shadows across the chamber, and the scene before them made Hiruzen's pupils contract sharply.
The laboratory walls were stained with dark red smears like abstract paintings. The dangling bulb overhead flickered under the shock of the broken door.
The floor was layered with hardened, dark brown residue, evidence that no amount of scrubbing could erase.
Hiruzen distinctly heard the sudden, rapid breathing of the two Anbu at his side as they stared wide-eyed at the cylindrical glass containers standing inside the lab.
In the pale green fluid within, curled human figures could be faintly seen.
Their skin, soaked for too long, had taken on a translucent, waxy sheen, while exposed muscle tissue was riddled with stitch lines like crawling maggots.
From their split-open chests, hearts still beat.
In their abdomens, serpent-like organs had been grafted and entwined, while tangled wires extended outward like the tendrils of a jellyfish.
And there were many such specimens in the laboratory, each marked with blood-red numbers like "32," "42," "65."
The surrounding racks were stacked with glass jars, each containing organs at different stages of development, twitching grotesquely in the liquid as if alive.
"T-This…" One Anbu's pupils trembled behind his mask.
Truthfully, though shocking, Hiruzen had already mentally prepared for a sight like this.
After all, Orochimaru's earliest experiments on the human body had been tacitly permitted by him and the Konoha leadership, when they sanctioned the transplantation of Hashirama's cells.
Though those volunteers had offered themselves willingly, seeking to revive Wood Release, it still showed that Hiruzen was not a man of mercy.
And even now, despite the horror before him, a part of him still felt sorrow and guilt toward his disciple.
Until… he saw the deepest part of the laboratory, two overlapping shadows.
Because Orochimaru's back faced the doorway, what Hiruzen first saw was the young face lying on the operating table, its throat cut open.
And the face of Hyūga Kumokawa… no longer held a smile. It was replaced by pure terror.
Tears streamed down his childish features.
When he noticed Hiruzen, he reached out his hand, opening and closing his mouth. But no sound came out.
Yet Hiruzen clearly understood what the boy wanted to say.
"Third Grandpa…" he mouthed.
At that moment, Orochimaru turned around at the sound.
The cold light reflected off his pale, blood-soaked face, his twisted sneer made all the more demonic by the crimson stains.
The headless corpse at his feet still spewed blood, turning the laboratory into a rain-soaked hellscape, a grotesque and violent painting.
The sight struck Hiruzen harder than the specimens ever could.
Most of all because… he knew that child.
He remembered him clearly.
As honorary principal of the Konoha Ninja Academy, he often gave speeches, presenting himself as a kind elder and preaching Konoha's "Will of Fire."
Once, in the very classroom where Hyūga Kumokawa sat, Hiruzen had noticed the boy's face practically glowing with admiration during his lecture.
Later, as usual, the teacher had students write their reflections.
Normally, Hiruzen never read such things.
But by chance, recalling that boy's innocent expression, he picked up the nearly forgotten reflection.
And froze.
[My home is like a great tree, with deep roots and lush leaves.]
[Third Grandpa is the trunk.]
[Sometimes harmonizing within, sometimes providing nourishment.]
[Father is the branches and leaves.]
[Sometimes sheltering from cold, sometimes shielding from storms.]
[Though aged and weary, though riddled with holes by pests, they still drive their roots deep into the earth, supporting and protecting the family and its fruit.]
[We are the fruit.]
[Our family rejoices at our birth. We drink sweet nourishment, sheltered from the wind and rain.]
[But we forget — who gives us nourishment? Who shields us from the storm?]
[I was too high above it all.]
[Perhaps, when I fall, eaten and discarded on the ground…]
[As a seed, sprouting, I will understand.]
Hiruzen had heard enough flowery praises from adults and enough blind adoration from children.
But this piece, written without embellishment, perfectly aligned with the Will of Fire, even subtly pointing to the conflicts between clans and the village. The childish words carried a genuine, beautiful truth.
Especially those last three lines.
They pierced Hiruzen's weary heart in an instant, warming even his tired body.
Yes. The clans only taught their children to protect their own interests. They never taught them to see themselves as part of Konoha.
Those clan children saw only the branches that sheltered them, but never the trunk and roots that held up the entire tree and bore all the fruit.
Undoubtedly, this was a child who could rise beyond the narrowness of his clan, focus on Konoha as a whole, and inherit the pure Will of Fire!
If anyone had dared claim Hyūga Kumokawa was a bad child, Hiruzen would've smashed their skull in with Enma on the spot.
And yet… such a good child, now…
As he watched the small body slump on the operating table, Hiruzen's conflicted feelings toward Orochimaru vanished, replaced by veins bulging on his aged face.
"Orochimaru!!" His furious gaze locked onto his disciple. "What are you doing?!"
"What have you done?!"
The sheer rage in Hiruzen's voice made Orochimaru's heart sink.
He had never expected his teacher to be so enraged.
From what he knew of this increasingly indecisive old man, even if exposed, Hiruzen would never actually strike him down.
He should've had a high chance to escape.
But now… why was this happening?
Before Orochimaru could connect it to Kumokawa, Hiruzen's hands were already flying through seals.
Boar – Dog – Bird – Monkey – Ram!
"Summoning Jutsu!!"
Bang!
A puff of smoke erupted, revealing a massive, muscular monkey wearing a fur coat and a Konoha forehead protector.
"Hiruzen, are you in trouble?" Enma asked instinctively, before catching sight of Orochimaru. His expression froze.
"This—"
"Enma!!"
Hiruzen's shout cut him off. With a "puff," Enma transformed into a massive staff as thick as a tree trunk.
To use Enma right from the start?!
Orochimaru's face darkened instantly.
There was no time to question why his sensei's fury burned so brightly, or why his white snakes hadn't warned him.
If he hesitated, he would die here.
"Wind Style: Great Breakthrough!!"
Whoosh!!
A gale filled with slicing wind blades burst from Orochimaru's mouth.
The shrieking blast shattered bottles and jars, hurling shards at Hiruzen's team, obscuring the Anbu's vision.
Even now, Orochimaru tried to snatch Hyūga Kumokawa.
But Hiruzen didn't even glance that way.
His staff extended, slamming down at Orochimaru with thunderous force.
Crash!!
Already drained of chakra from the organ transplant surgery, Orochimaru was struck mid-air. Blood gushed from his mouth, thick with organ fragments.
"Damn it! Damn it!!"
Orochimaru glared hatefully at Hiruzen, who now stood grimly by Kumokawa's side. He knew he could not take the boy away today.
Realizing this, bitter as it was, Orochimaru forced himself to calm down.
"Earth Style: Hiding Like a Mole!"
Using the rebound from Hiruzen's strike, he wove seals mid-air, pressed his feet to the ceiling, and slipped into the solid stone like a fish into water.
"Lord Third!"
The Anbu stepped forward, staring at Hiruzen's cold face.
Hiruzen's fury dimmed slightly. He glanced at Kumokawa and said:
"Take this child to be treated immediately. His life must be preserved."
"Yes, sir!"
Without question, the Anbu lifted Hyūga Kumokawa and vanished.
Meanwhile, burrowing upward through the earth, Orochimaru clutched his chest, his face deathly pale.
Even at his peak, he could never have bested Sarutobi Hiruzen.
All he could do now was escape Konoha alive. Kumokawa would have to wait.
For now, his survival depended on Konoha keeping the boy alive and silent.
The thought made his gut twist with resentment.
How had things spun out of his control so suddenly?
It was that damned brat!
Could it be… all this was his doing?
Had he plotted against him for years, even roping Hiruzen into the scheme?
Was everything that happened today part of the boy's plan?
But he was only fifteen… Could he really be a monster?!
As these thoughts swirled, Orochimaru broke through the surface, only to face a figure.
An Anbu mask. A short blade strapped to his back. The iconic silver hair.
Hatake Kakashi.
"Raikiri!!"
Without a word, Kakashi charged with lightning in his hand.
Orochimaru almost laughed in fury. These brats, so reckless!
But just as killing intent flared in his heart, a faint sound reached his ears.
Shff!
"…What—"
Orochimaru glanced down. A black cat darted past, pausing only to look up at him.
Its feline face twisted into a human-like sneer.
And then…
"Byakugan?!"
Seeing the white eye gleam, Orochimaru's pupils contracted sharply.
The next instant,
BOOM!!
A chain of explosive tags detonated, tearing through the silent night. The entire base was obliterated by a terrifying force.
The ground caved in like a collapsing mountain, flesh and blood flung skyward in a storm.
Far away, two Anbu racing through the treetops froze at the sound, instinctively shaken.
"Lord Third…?" They exchanged wary glances, hearts pounding.
What they didn't see was that the boy in their arms, Hyūga Kumokawa, wore the faintest, nearly imperceptible smile.
"Still held back, did you?" he thought, amused. "I hope Orochimaru enjoys my parting gift."
He had never expected Hiruzen's anger to truly kill Orochimaru. Decades of bond would outweigh any fleeting fury.
But that didn't matter.
All Kumokawa wanted was to clear suspicion from himself. Orochimaru's life or death was irrelevant to that.
And besides, Orochimaru was far too useful a pawn to discard before he was fully wrung dry.
With that thought, Kumokawa lifted his gaze skyward.
It was nearly 5 a.m. Dawn painted the horizon.
The sun was always both sunset and sunrise.
As it burned out on one side of the mountain, painting the sky with desolate twilight, it climbed anew on the other, blazing with radiant morning light.
"Next," Kumokawa whispered in his heart, eyes closing with a smirk, "is the Tenseigan."
He chuckled softly.
The Hyūga clan… caged birds.
The false becomes true, the true becomes false. The strong appear weak, the weak appear strong.
From today onward, the roles of attacker and defender are reversed.