The acrid scent of disinfectant pierced his nose and stirred his senses.
Crane slowly opened his eyes, greeted by the stark white ceiling of the Konoha Hospital. He didn't move right away, simply lying still, quietly gauging the condition of his body. The emptiness from his drained mental energy still lingered, but the unbearable, ripping pain from earlier had faded away.
"You're awake."
A familiar voice came from the bedside.
Kakashi Hatake leaned against the wall, holding that ever-present orange book in his hand , Icha Icha Paradise. But his eye wasn't on the page; it was fixed on Crane's face beyond it.
Crane's expression was dazed. He struggled to sit up, his movements clumsy and sluggish.
"The Third… what about the Third Hokage?" His voice came out hoarse, tinged with just the right measure of confusion and sorrow.
Kakashi closed his book with a quiet snap.
"The funeral is this morning."
He walked over to the bedside and poured him a glass of water. "Do you remember anything?"
Crane accepted the cup, his fingers trembling faintly. His head lowered as if trying to remember, a pained expression creeping across his face.
"I… I just remember a purple light… and… some terrifying shadow… then everything goes blank."
He displayed mild symptoms of memory loss , a textbook case of post-traumatic stress response.
Kakashi's lone eye stared at him, as if trying to peel away the mask and catch the slightest hint of deception.
But Crane's act was flawless. That fear and confusion etched into his expression seemed to come from deep within his soul. Utterly convincing.
Eventually, Kakashi looked away.
"I see. The doctor said it was just extreme psychological stress. A few days of rest should be enough."
"Get some proper sleep."
With that, Kakashi turned and walked out.
Crane slowly lay back down, pulling the blanket over his head. His shoulders trembled slightly, as if suppressing sobs.
Outside the room, Kakashi hadn't gone far. He stood against the corridor wall, his casual demeanor gone without a trace. What remained was a deep solemnity.
The boy's story matched the medical diagnosis perfectly.
Yet behind his eye, the three tomoe spun in silence.
Everything lined up too well.
And that , was precisely what made it so suspicious.
…
Night blanketed the sky like thick ink.
Crane returned silently to his small, worn-down apartment. He locked the door behind him but didn't turn on the lights.
In the darkness, he closed his eyes, letting his consciousness sink deep into his mind.
The "library" forcefully imprinted into him had now been perfectly organized by the Road to Passerby King system.
Before him unfolded an immense skill tree.
At the core was [Chakra Refinement and Control].
From that central branch extended seven major limbs: [Fire Release], [Water Release], [Wind Release], [Lightning Release], [Earth Release], [Yin Release], and [Yang Release].
Each branch was packed with countless scrolls , from the most basic E-Rank techniques to S-Rank forbidden arts that could reshape the terrain.
Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Professor of Ninjutsu.
Everything he had learned in a lifetime was now embedded in Crane's mind.
He didn't need to study it. He didn't even need to understand it.
These techniques had become instinct, flowing through his body like second nature.
Crane raised his right hand. A faint thread of chakra gathered in his palm.
With a thought, the chakra automatically changed properties and shaped itself.
A tiny flame ignited in his hand, flickering quietly.
No hand signs.
No deliberate effort.
As natural as breathing.
This… was the Third Hokage's legacy.
In the darkness, the corner of Crane's lips curled into a silent smile.
The exhilaration of his strength increasing exponentially , it was intoxicating.
…
Meanwhile, deep within the damp, cold chambers of the Sound Village's underground base, Orochimaru lay slumped on a stone throne.
His face was pale as paper. His ruined hands hung limply at his sides, skin rotting with wounds that would not heal, each one throbbing with sharp pain.
Kabuto adjusted his glasses and handed over a report.
"Orochimaru-sama, based on residual chakra analysis from the battlefield, the attack that critically injured the Sound Four didn't match any known ninjutsu."
Orochimaru's golden, vertical pupils narrowed dangerously.
"Go on."
"It was an extremely refined composite technique," Kabuto said calmly.
"The core of the attack fused the Hyuga Clan's Gentle Fist acupoint strikes with our Sound Village's unique sonic vibration principles. The resulting force bypassed muscle and bone, delivering precise internal trauma to organs and chakra pathways."
Orochimaru's breath quickened slightly.
Gentle Fist and sonic waves? What kind of genius concocted such a technique?
As if reading his thoughts, Kabuto pulled out a chakra crystal. After injecting a trace of his own chakra, a blurry scene flickered to life.
It was footage from the Konoha Collapse Plan. One section of the battlefield.
In it, a nondescript genin was jostled around by the fleeing crowd and , in apparent panic , threw a kunai.
That kunai didn't even hit anything, simply lodging into the tiles near the Four Violet Flames Formation.
"Right here."
Kabuto's finger pointed to that inconspicuous genin.
Orochimaru's pupils shrank sharply.
The genin who "accidentally" knocked Sasuke off course in the Land of Waves.
The genin with "outrageous luck" who surrendered during the Chunin Exams.
The genin who "fainted in fear" at the edge of the barrier and bled from all seven orifices during the Collapse.
All those coincidences lined up in a perfect sequence.
A terrifying conclusion began to crystallize in Orochimaru's mind.
That background character , that forgettable, unremarkable little genin…
Was the ultimate disguise.
"Ah… Ahahahaha…"
"AHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Orochimaru burst into a fit of deranged laughter. The act strained his ruined arms, sending fresh waves of pain coursing through him, but the manic gleam in his eyes only intensified.
A perfect vessel.
This… this was the most perfect vessel!
Uchiha Sasuke? That hate-filled, emotionally unstable little avenger?
Compared to this boy, who could erase his own presence, whose heart ran deep as the ocean… Sasuke was nothing but a crude, defective product.
"Forget Sasuke."
Orochimaru rasped.
"I want him."
"I want that boy , at any cost!"
…
Inside the Hokage Tower, deep in the heart of Konoha.
Kakashi closed the dossier in his hand, brows tightly furrowed.
Crane.
Genin. Orphan. Clean background. A record so spotless it felt manufactured.
Mediocre grades. Introverted. No particular talents.
So ordinary , it bordered on unnatural.
And that very perfection made Kakashi's unease grow ever stronger.
A truly ordinary person couldn't survive repeated brushes with death relying on "luck" alone.
His gloved finger tapped the photo attached to the file. Just an unremarkable boy.
So what exactly… was wrong?
…
Crane stepped out from the hospital into the harsh glare of afternoon sunlight.
On the path back to his rundown apartment, he could feel it clearly , two gazes trailing him from the shadows.
One came from the ANBU , cautious, observant, but not murderous.
The other… was cold. Viscous. Brimming with undisguised greed and malice.
Like a venomous serpent lurking just out of sight, tongue flicking, waiting for the strike.
Orochimaru.
Crane's pace didn't falter for a moment.
He already knew , he'd been marked.
And hiding wasn't the answer.
Some problems had to be solved head-on.
He walked up to his battered old door and pulled out the key.
He knew what lay behind it.
A trap.
But this… was also the battleground he had chosen.
He opened the door.
The room inside was dim. Curtains drawn tight.
A hoarse voice rasped from the shadows.
"Who would've thought Konoha's greatest surprise wasn't the last of the Uchiha… or the Nine-Tails' jinchuriki…"
"But a no-name background character no one even remembers."
Orochimaru stepped out from the dark, ruined arms dangling uselessly at his sides, but his golden eyes burned with ravenous obsession.
Crane shut the door behind him, cutting off the last shaft of daylight.
The cowardice and panic on his face melted away the instant the latch clicked.
What replaced it was calm , an eerie, all-knowing stillness.
"You're late, Orochimaru-sama."
He looked up, meeting those serpent eyes head-on, a strange smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"I don't need you anymore."
"Or rather… the way you are now, "
"You're nothing more than an expired ingredient."
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200 P.S = 1 Extra Chapter