Chapter 50: The Naïve One-Eyed Boy
"This trap of yours is a bit too obvious."
"It's a trap set by the Mist ninja."
"Heh. The Mist? The Mist?" Orochimaru sneered. "That old fox Danzō really will do anything, won't he?"
Hearing Orochimaru slander Lord Danzō, Aburame Ryōma's expression didn't change in the slightest. He treated Orochimaru's words like a passing fart—entering one ear and slipping straight out the other.
After that brief jab at Shimura Danzō, Orochimaru continued calmly,
"Ryōma, with a trap this blatant, Hyūga Ritsu would have to be brain-dead to walk into it. Aren't you worried you're just wasting effort?"
"What does that have to do with me?" Ryōma replied flatly. "I already said—the trap was laid by the Mist. If they dared to set it so openly, it means they're confident the Hyūga clan head won't pass up the chance to recover the Byakugan…"
"And if," Orochimaru pressed, "if Hyūga Ritsu doesn't take the bait—what then?"
This time, Orochimaru refused to let the matter drop, clearly intent on digging until the bottom was exposed.
In an instant—
A trace of gloom and wariness crept onto Ryōma's rigid, pottery-like face. He looked at Orochimaru with open suspicion.
Sensing that distrust-filled gaze, Orochimaru's lips curled upward slightly, his smile ambiguous.
"Ryōma," he said softly, "what are you worried about? Afraid I'll ruin your plans?"
"Yes."
Ryōma admitted it outright. Staring straight at Orochimaru, he asked bluntly,
"Orochimaru, what exactly are you trying to do? You, of all people, should understand that some things are better left unknown. Or is it that you still care about that classmate of yours—Hiruko? And because of that, you've taken a liking to Hyūga Ritsu, Hiruko's disciple?"
A clear, mocking cold smile spread across Orochimaru's face.
"Ryōma," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm, "we've worked together more than once. Do you really think I care about anyone?"
"Who can say?" Ryōma replied coolly. "Not caring in the past doesn't mean you won't care in the future. And besides—I can tell. You admire Hyūga Ritsu."
Orochimaru did not deny it.
"That's because he's interesting," he said lightly. "Not just because he possesses both the Byakugan and the Shikotsumyaku… but because he's managed to turn the stagnant waters of the Hyūga clan into something that actually flows again."
Orochimaru narrowed his eyes slightly, a trace of emotion surfacing on his face.
"Ryōma," he said with faint sentiment, "you're worried that I might show favoritism toward Hyūga Ritsu and ruin Danzō's or Sarutobi-sensei's plans. But in truth, what I want to tell you is this—you're underestimating Hyūga Ritsu."
"I have never underestimated—"
"Ryōma, don't rush to refute me," Orochimaru interrupted calmly. "I have no interest in debating you."
He continued, his tone suddenly taking on an almost prophetic air:
"I'm only giving you a friendly warning, purely out of a spectator's mindset—one that enjoys watching chaos unfold. Whether you listen or not is entirely up to you. But remember this:
If your plan proceeds poorly, it means there's still hope of success.
If your plan proceeds too smoothly… then you should be very careful."
After hearing this, Ryōma's brows twisted tightly together.
Though Orochimaru sounded cryptic and mystical, Ryōma understood the implication clearly.
A plan that encounters resistance likely means Hyūga Ritsu has sensed danger and is avoiding it—push forward firmly, and success may still be possible.
But a plan that unfolds flawlessly could mean something far worse: that Hyūga Ritsu knows it's a trap and is walking into it anyway—because he has a trump card capable of overturning the entire situation.
And yet—
Ryōma simply could not believe that Hyūga Ritsu possessed such a decisive hidden card.
Next time, the Mist would deploy elite forces in full. How could they possibly fail to kill one Hyūga Ritsu?
Did earning the nickname "White Yaksha" really mean he could be compared to the Yellow Flash or Shisui of the Body Flicker?
Ryōma had questioned Yamanaka Kaido in detail. Hyūga Ritsu, even with two kekkei genkai, excelled primarily in close combat. He lacked the extreme mobility of Minato or Shisui—the kind of freedom that allowed them to charge into encirclement without fear.
"All right, Ryōma," Orochimaru said lazily, waving a hand. "That's enough talk. Go attend to your work. As long as you don't disrupt the front-line situation, I won't interfere with how you carry out Sarutobi-sensei's and Danzō's orders."
Ryōma said nothing and turned to leave.
He was convinced Orochimaru was exaggerating. Still, he resolved to contact the Mist afterward and instruct them to treat Hyūga Ritsu as an even higher-priority target. This time, Ritsu had to die.
Otherwise—
Once the war ended, the opportunity to use the Mist as a convenient blade to eliminate Hyūga Ritsu would vanish. After that, killing him "legitimately" would become vastly more difficult.
With that thought, Ryōma quickened his pace.
---
Deep underground, within a dimly lit cavern.
A one-eyed boy whose body was half grafted with pale white flesh balanced upside down on a single finger. A few seconds later, at the brink of exhaustion, he flipped gracefully and landed firmly against the vertical rock wall.
"Obito, you're recovering faster and faster!"
A completely white, humanoid figure with a flower-like face hopped over excitedly.
"Give me one more week," the one-eyed boy—Obito—said, arms crossed thoughtfully. "Once I fully control this body, I can return to the village. Hey, Tobi… do you think I should bring Rin some flowers?"
He pondered the question seriously—an utterly trivial concern in the eyes of any observer—and even sought advice from the bizarre creature beside him.
"Huh? I don't get it," Tobi replied innocently. "Why flowers? Why not poop?"
"AH—! Tobi, you're disgusting!" Obito yelled, clutching his head. "Who gives a girl—that! Get away from me! I was stupid to ask you!"
He shook his head furiously, as if trying to erase the horrifying mental image that had flashed through his mind.
Tobi, meanwhile, looked deeply aggrieved and muttered softly,
"What's wrong with that? Flowers are boring. Poop is way more interesting…"
From the shadows in the corner, a black-and-white face slowly emerged.
Watching the noisy one-eyed boy and the flower-faced creature, the white half giggled.
"The timing is about right. We need to make Uchiha Obito experience true despair—soon. Otherwise, if he insists on returning to Konoha, things will get troublesome."
"Then," the black half said in a hoarse, low voice,
"begin."
In the next instant, the yin–yang face sank back into the rock wall, leaving no trace behind.
And in that quiet cavern, the naïve, ignorant one-eyed boy remained blissfully unaware of the suffering and torment that awaited him—still immersed in his simple worries and fleeting happiness.