The journey to Sound Village took three days.
Three long, tedious days of traveling through forests and avoiding patrols. The Sound Four tried making conversation. Sasuke shut them down every time.
"So, Sasuke," Kidomaru started on day one. "How'd you get so strong? You're what, thirteen?"
"Training."
"Yeah, but—"
"I don't want to talk."
Kidomaru backed off. Smart.
Tayuya tried on day two. "What's the deal with you and that blonde kid?
Sasuke just stared at her until she rolled her eyes and walked away.
By day three, they'd learned to leave him alone.
Which was fine. Sasuke didn't need friends. He needed tools. Resources. Power.
The Sound Four were tools. Orochimaru was a resource. And power? That was waiting at Sound Village.
His mind worked constantly during the journey. Planning. Strategizing. He had maybe a year before Orochimaru would agree to the Hashirama cell procedure. That meant a year of proving himself. A year of training. A year of becoming valuable enough that Orochimaru would risk the experiment.
The key was showing just enough competence to be interesting. Not so much that Orochimaru got suspicious. Walk the line between prodigy and normal genius.
Difficult. But doable.
"We're here," Jirobo announced on the third evening.
Sound Village appeared through the trees. Hidden in a valley, surrounded by mountains. From above, it looked like nothing—just forest and rock. But Sasuke could sense the chakra signatures below. Underground facilities. Dozens of shinobi.
And in the center, that massive, twisted presence.
Orochimaru.
"Lord Orochimaru is waiting," Sakon said. "He wants to meet you personally."
Of course he did. New Sharingan user. Potential vessel. Orochimaru would be excited.
They descended into the valley. The entrance was hidden behind a waterfall—classic. Underground passages opened up, lit by fluorescent lights. The aesthetic was more lab than village.
Made sense. Orochimaru wasn't building a community. He was running experiments.
Shinobi watched from the shadows as they passed. Sasuke counted them instinctively. Fifteen visible. Probably twice that many hidden. All evaluating him. Judging whether the new Uchiha was worth the hype.
Let them wonder.
They reached a large chamber carved from rock. And there he was.
Orochimaru stood in the center, backlit by torches. Pale skin. Long black hair. Yellow serpentine eyes. That smile—predatory and knowing.
"Sasuke-kun," Orochimaru said, voice like silk over razor blades. "Welcome to your new home."