Aside from the Sarutobi clansman who had spoken out of turn, Sarutobi Shinnosuke and the other Sarutobi ninja were also brushed by Uchiha Gen's killing intent.
It wasn't directed at them, so they only felt a faint unease enough to stiffen their posture, but not enough to lose control.
"Enough, Harakyo!" Shinnosuke snapped, though his eyes slid toward Gen instead. "You've gone too far. That was disrespectful."
Gen's lips curved faintly. A clever little trick, scolding his subordinate, but throwing the barb at him.
At present, Gen was still only the vice-commander, while Shinnosuke had already taken the top seat.
Years ago, when Gen was still a no-name brat, Shinnosuke had already been Captain of the Anbu. The reality was obvious; Shinnosuke was nearing the peak of his career, while Gen had only just begun climbing.
And yet, in the 'original' history of this world, Shinnosuke was remembered only as Konohamaru's father, mentioned briefly, destined either to fade into obscurity or die pointlessly.
"Alright, Gen."
Orochimaru's pale hand touched his student's shoulder. His tone seemed reproachful, but his eyes gleamed with pride. "Harakyo and Shinnosuke are of the same generation. Show some respect for your elders."
"In the military, we don't talk about elders," Gen muttered, though he eased back the oppressive aura. "We talk about position, strength, and ability."
He wasn't worried about Shinnosuke retaliating. Was a man of his age really going to run crying to his father?
And even if word reached Hiruzen, so what? As long as Gen didn't overstep the Third Hokage's bottom line, Hiruzen's tolerance was vast, especially since he still needed Orochimaru and his student to carry the war effort.
As for the rest of the Sarutobi clan? If they wanted to hold grudges over a few words, he'd happily deal with them in the shadows. Direct attacks on comrades were forbidden, but assassination was another matter entirely.
And if those Sarutobi took their resentment out on Orochimaru and Gen's former subordinates? Even better. The more they were suppressed, the more loyal those ninja would become to him and his master.
Orochimaru gave a thin smile. "It's nothing, Shinnosuke. I've spoiled this disciple of mine."
As for Harakyo, he didn't even glance his way, making it clear that, in Orochimaru's eyes, he was beneath notice.
Harakyo's fists clenched tight. Though his face flushed with anger, he swallowed his words, unable to respond.
"It's fine," Shinnosuke said stiffly. "Young men run hot. Let's move on and finish the handover."
He forced the words out, though inwardly, he was seething. Gen hadn't torn the mask off completely, but he had made him lose face in front of everyone, undermining his authority from the start.
For a commander parachuted onto the frontlines, prestige was already hard to build. With this incident, even if he won battles, the weight of that prestige would be cut in half.
Still, continuing the argument would only humiliate him further. Orochimaru had already smoothed the matter over, and Shinnosuke had no means to punish Gen outright. All he could do was choke down his anger, see them off, and wait for another chance.
At least he still knew shame. The most dangerous men in the world were those who did evil while believing themselves just.
The remainder of the handover proceeded without incident.
When it was done, Shinnosuke personally escorted Orochimaru and Gen out of the Konoha camp. A clever move; the ninja watching from below saw only harmony between old and new commanders, which left them with a favorable impression of Shinnosuke. That would make it easier for him to secure their loyalty later.
Once they were beyond the walls, Gen summoned Shuryu. The great flame beast carried the pair into the sky, streaking north toward the Land of Rice Fields.
Whirlpool Country lay in the southeast, pressed against Fire Country's borders, while the Land of Rice Fields was directly north. On foot, the journey would be long, but atop Shuryu's blazing cloud-wings, the distance shrank with every thunderous beat.
The wind roared past them. Orochimaru's black hair streamed wildly; Gen's spiked locks whipped but held firm. He'd never grown it long—too troublesome to wash. Even with the power of the Soul-Soul Fruit, it wasn't as though he could make his hair clean itself.
"Gen," Orochimaru asked suddenly over the rush of the air, "after your next birthday, you'll be sixteen, won't you?"
"Mm. Sixteen next year."
"Do you have a girl you like?"
"Huh?" Gen blinked at him. "Teacher, since when are you interested in things like that? That's not like you at all."
"Heh… I'm not. Not really. But it's dull to fly in silence." Orochimaru's lips curled faintly. "You're so outstanding. I imagine your clan has already started searching for suitable girls to match you with."
Gen tilted his head. Was Orochimaru's disinterest in women really because of Tsunade, the scars she'd left him with as a boy? Perhaps. Or maybe it was his parents' deaths, or the loss of Nawaki and Kato Dan. Whatever the cause, he had turned his longing inward—into research, into the pursuit of immortality, into avoiding the pain of bringing children into such a cruel world.
Or perhaps, he was simply too busy. Wars, experiments, forbidden jutsu… no time for romance.
"Let them look," Gen said lightly. "If I like her, fine. If not, I'll decline. No one can force me into something like that."
"So… do you like anyone now?"
"Yes."
"Oh?" Orochimaru's brows rose. "Which girl?"
"She's not a 'which.' She's a type."
"…??"
"Pretty girls," Gen answered, smiling a little sheepishly.
Orochimaru blinked. "…You mean… all of them?"
"Sensei, you're so sharp!"
"…."
A low chuckle slipped from Orochimaru. "Heh. You and Jiraiya… you might be cut from the same cloth after all. Perhaps he should have been your teacher."
"Jiraiya-senpai?" Gen scoffed. "He's useless. All lust, no guts. I'm different, I've got lust and guts."
Unlike my last life, Gen thought silently, where I was all lust and no guts.
Orochimaru actually seemed thoughtful at that. "You're right. Jiraiya puts on the air of a rake, but when it comes to real matters of the heart, he's timid. As for you… well, I haven't seen your supposed guts yet."
"I'm still young," Gen said with a grin. "Sixteen is when the real hunting season starts."
"…You already have a plan, then. Very well."