The Academy grounds buzzed with the morning chatter of children. Sunlight filtered through leaves, dappling the training field with light and shadow. To most students, today was another routine of lessons and practice.
To Orochimaru, it was opportunity.
His sharp golden eyes tracked the movements of his classmates with clinical interest. Ren Uchiha still scowled at him in silence, jaw tight, as if chewing on humiliation that refused to go down. Tsunade laughed loudly in the distance, tossing a practice kunai at a tree trunk just to show off. Jiraiya tripped over his own sandals and nearly fell into a pond, drawing more laughter.
Orochimaru ignored the noise. His attention was fixed on the small garden at the edge of the field. Rows of herbs, planted by the Academy for basic lessons in identification, swayed gently in the breeze.
To a child, they were teaching tools.
To Orochimaru, they were ingredients.
That afternoon, when the other students ran off to play or eat, Orochimaru lingered behind.
He crouched near the herb bed, pale fingers brushing over leaves with careful familiarity. His mind, powered by the Infinite Knowledge System, overlaid a flood of data into his vision.
[Search: Common herbology]
[Search: Poison preparation from natural sources]
[Search: Medicinal counteragents]
Streams of knowledge poured in. He cross-referenced recipes from Earth with what the Shinobi World grew in abundance.
Mint for soothing stomachs. Willow bark for fevers. Nightshade berries—if dried and crushed, they became paralytics. Even the humble dandelion, harmless in salads, could be fermented into tinctures with curious effects.
His lips curved faintly. The System did not just give him information—it gave him possibility.
A shadow fell over him.
"Orochimaru."
The calm voice belonged to Hiruzen. The man stood with hands clasped behind his back, gaze curious but not stern.
"You study more than the others," Hiruzen said. "Most children rush to games after lessons."
Orochimaru tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing like a serpent's. "Games do not last. Knowledge does."
Hiruzen smiled faintly at that answer. "You remind me of the old sages in their youth. But even sages need rest."
The boy said nothing. He only plucked a sprig of mint and rolled it between his fingers.
Hiruzen studied him for a moment longer before walking on. But in his passing glance was something Orochimaru noted carefully: approval.
Approval was a currency. One day, it would be valuable.
That night, back at the orphanage dormitory, Orochimaru worked in silence.
The other children snored, dreamed, or whispered under blankets. He, however, was busy with small jars hidden beneath his futon.
With deft hands, he mashed leaves, ground dried stems, and dripped water sparingly to create extracts. His "laboratory" was crude, but his supercomputer mind calculated ratios with precision no adult could match.
A faint hiss came from the corner. A snake, black and slender, slid into the room through a crack in the wall. It coiled beside him, tongue flicking curiously.
Orochimaru muttered, "Watch."
He dabbed a tiny amount of the liquid onto a bread crumb and placed it before a captured beetle. The insect nibbled. Moments later, it staggered, legs twitching, before falling still.
Paralysis confirmed. Duration: thirty-two minutes. Reversibility: ninety-five percent with mint solution.
He filed the data neatly into memory.
Another mixture—a calming draught this time—reduced the beetle's movements until it seemed asleep.
He smiled faintly. Medicine or poison—two sides of the same coin. Control was the hand that flipped it.
The next day during break, Orochimaru found his first test subject.
Not an insect this time. A child.
Genji, the loudmouth boy who always complained at meals, sat under a tree stuffing his face with rice balls he'd stolen from another student. Crumbs clung to his cheeks.
Orochimaru approached silently, hands behind his back. "Genji," he said softly.
The boy startled, nearly choking. "W-what? Oh… it's you. Creepy snake eyes. What do you want?"
Orochimaru held out a rice ball wrapped in neat leaves. "Trade. Yours looks stale."
Greed lit the boy's eyes. He snatched the rice ball without hesitation, shoving it into his mouth before Orochimaru even blinked.
Seconds later, Genji's chewing slowed. His limbs trembled faintly.
"What… what's…" His eyes widened in panic. "I-I can't move right!"
Orochimaru crouched, tilting his head like a curious predator. "Strange. Perhaps you ate too quickly."
The boy whimpered, paralyzed from the shoulders down. Tears welled in his eyes. "Help… help me…"
Orochimaru's gaze was cold, but his lips curved faintly. "Do not cry. This is temporary."
He fed the boy a mint leaf with deliberate slowness. Minutes passed. Color returned to Genji's face. His limbs loosened.
When it was over, Genji stared at him in terror. "What… what was that?"
"An experiment," Orochimaru whispered. "You were useful."
The boy scrambled away on shaky legs, too ashamed and frightened to cry for help. His silence was ensured by fear.
Orochimaru sat back, satisfied. Data collected. Formula confirmed.
At the Academy, word spread quickly.
Genji was quieter than usual, avoiding Orochimaru's gaze. Children noticed, whispered, and speculated, but no one dared ask aloud.
Ren Uchiha glared, sensing something but unable to prove it. Tsunade teased him for being pale and creepy. Jiraiya, oblivious as ever, asked if he wanted to play tag after class.
Orochimaru studied them all with quiet amusement. Each one revealed more with every interaction.
During sparring, he let Tsunade hit him once—just enough to make her feel strong. He let Jiraiya throw him, only to roll gracefully and end the match in a draw. With Ren, he sidestepped effortlessly, infuriating him further without ever landing a decisive blow.
Each reaction fed into Orochimaru's growing web of control.
One evening, as he left the Academy, he sensed that same watchful gaze again.
Danzo.
The man stood near the corner of the training hall, half-hidden in shadow. His eye tracked Orochimaru's every step.
The boy paused, letting their gazes meet. He tilted his head slightly, expression blank, as if daring Danzo to act.
But the man simply turned away, disappearing into the crowd with a swirl of his cloak.
Cautious, always cautious. Orochimaru smirked faintly. Danzo would never underestimate him. That was good.
Enemies who feared you made fewer mistakes.
That night, Orochimaru whispered to the System.
"Show me new missions."
[MISSION UNLOCKED]
Objective: Conduct 10 Successful Experiments
Progress: 1/10
Reward: Skill Upgrade (Research Efficiency +20%)
Objective: Manipulate an Authority Figure
Progress: 0%
Reward: Hidden Technique (Randomized)
He chuckled softly, voice echoing in the empty dorm.
Experiments would be easy. Children were careless, greedy, trusting. And authority? Authority was just another weakness to exploit.
As the moon rose, Orochimaru sat with his notebook of herbs, snakes coiled around him like silent guardians, and a grin that promised the world had not yet seen the serpent's true fangs.