Fortunately, my teacher had no idea what kind of books were being written about him.
Which was normal. Orochimaru might be one of the Legendary Sannin, but he wasn't the prophecy toad of Mount Myōboku.
If he could sense in real time that Jiraiya was out there writing smut with a genderbent version of him as the heroine…
Then he wouldn't be a ninja anymore.
He'd be a deity.
"You dragged back a test subject?"
Orochimaru leaned against the lab table, golden hair loose behind him, amber eyes lazily watching me as I finished steeping the tea.
"I thought your little 'weapon' doesn't require human material," he added, genuinely curious.
I set the teapot down and answered honestly.
"That one doesn't. But I'm planning to split some shadow clones off to work on another project, so I need him for that."
The thermobaric bomb was something I had to oversee personally. Too much risk, too many details. Sure, the explosive compound was "stable"… right up until some idiot dropped fire next to it and we turned the lab into a crater.
So all hands on deck for that one.
But my "other" research—improving crops, hybridizing grains, testing chakra effects on seeds—that I could throw at a small army of me-shaped free labor.
And for that?
I wanted Hashirama.
With the First Hokage's Wood Release, there was a good chance we could accelerate plant growth and shave months or years off agricultural experiments. Less waiting, more data. Perfect.
"Oh?" Orochimaru's lips curved slightly. "So you're planning to Edo Tensei the First Hokage just to see if his Wood Release can boost crop growth?"
His eyes narrowed faintly in amusement. He clearly found the idea… unexpected.
Which was fair.
For him, Edo Tensei was a battlefield tool—a way to drag legends out of their graves, break enemies' minds, and drown the world in despair.
Like that classic, if he ever used it on Hiruzen Sarutobi again:
Second Hokage, dead wife, former students—line them all up and watch the old man emotionally implode.
"Yes, sensei," I said, straight-faced. "Actually, I've been thinking—if the dead didn't always insist on going back to the Pure Land, we could literally Edo Tensei brilliant scholars and make them continue their life's work in our lab."
That wasn't a joke.
I really meant it.
Edo Tensei was wasted as a "zombie-summoning murder spell" in my opinion.
Think about it:
Prodigies who died too young.
Geniuses cut down in war.
Researchers with unfinished theories and half-complete papers.
Bring them back, stabilize them, sit them at a desk, and say:
"Congratulations, you've been promoted to post-mortem research fellow. Here's your lab coat."
As long as they kept their minds and personalities, the potential output would be insane.
The biggest problem?
Every single test we'd run so far had proven the same thing:
The Pure Land had a disturbingly strong pull on souls.
Unless there was a powerful emotional anchor—unfinished business, deep regret, powerful love—most of the dead wanted to go back as soon as possible.
I still didn't know what the Pure Land really was.
If it weren't likely a playground under Sage of Six Paths' control, I'd honestly want to go dissect it.
"Your idea is… not bad," Orochimaru admitted, tapping a finger lightly on the table. "But I suspect very few souls would truly choose that path."
He was remembering our previous experiments too.
We'd summoned several dead souls, and almost all of them had requested to return to the Pure Land as soon as their immediate concern was addressed.
Even Kato Dan—who loved Tsunade deeply—had chosen rest over lingering.
"But," I said, eyes lighting up, "the First Hokage? He'll help."
Senju Hashirama's personality was basically Naruto's but with more muscles and stronger trauma. Optimistic, sentimental, ridiculously soft-hearted.
Tell him, "We're doing this to help people, to protect Konoha, to reduce suffering," and he'd probably sign up before I even finished the sentence.
"…Probably," I added in my head.
You could never be totally sure until you tried.
Sensei had plenty of Hashirama tissue stored, of course.
Those cells were like an invasive species. Fast-replicating, stubborn, aggressive—perfect for experiments and nightmares both.
If I really wanted to, I was pretty sure I could use them to recreate something suspiciously similar to White Zetsu.
In fact, considering the truth about White Zetsu…
Yeah. Calling that "gene engineering" wasn't wrong at all.
My hands slammed against the floor.
Black seals spread, forming the familiar pattern of Edo Tensei. A coffin rose out of the ground, stone sliding against stone, then clicked into place.
The lid creaked open.
A man stepped out.
Messy dark hair, sturdy frame, simple armor, and a big "I just woke up and don't know where the hell I am" expression.
"Th-this is… where?"
Senju Hashirama blinked a few times, eyes scanning the underground lab. He saw Orochimaru, then me. No recognition at all.
Of course he didn't know us.
He'd been dead for a long time.
"First Hokage-sama!"
I rushed forward, putting just the right amount of urgency and grief into my voice. "Konoha needs your help! The village is facing crisis upon crisis—disaster looms, and the people are suffering!"
Orochimaru gave me a sideways look that absolutely said:
My student's acting is way too good.
He wasn't wrong.
If the ninja world had a proper film industry, I could probably retire early as an award-winning actor instead of blowing people up for research budget.
"…Konoha?"
At that word, Hashirama's expression sharpened. His whole aura intensified.
"When you say 'crisis'—what's happened to the village?"
Right.
Senju Hashirama:
Founder of the village.
Builder of peace.
Number one Konoha simp.
If you said "Konoha" and "in danger" in the same sentence, he'd be on his feet before the sentence ended.
I put on my most tragic face.
"First Hokage-sama, you don't know… after you passed away, Konoha walked a bloody road. The wars never truly stopped. Resources grew scarce. Food supplies became unstable. People starve. So we came out to seek… alternative solutions."
Half true, half embellished.
Just enough real history to sell the lie.
We needed him to believe that we were trying to solve a food crisis so he'd happily use Wood Release to fast-grow crops for us.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered if I was overdoing it.
This was Hashirama after all.
The guy whose emotional defense stat was somewhere between "wet paper" and "Naruto watching a sob story flashback."
But his expression remained complex—solemn, serious, and incredulous all at once.
"I…" he began slowly, then fixed me with a grave stare.
"I have to ask—"
My heart skipped.
Did he figure it out? Did I push too hard? Is this where the "First Hokage breaks my Edo Tensei and chokes me with wood dragons" part starts?
He took a deep breath.
"So you're telling me… our Fourth Hokage… died to the Nine-Tails?!"
I blinked.
Of all the information in that speech…
That's where his brain parked?
"Ah… yes."
I nodded, a bit dazed. "The Fourth Hokage, Namikaze Minato, died about half a year ago during the Nine-Tails' attack."
Strictly speaking, the real culprit was Obito.
But from a results perspective, Minato did indeed die fighting the Nine-Tails.
Hashirama stared at me like he'd just heard the punchline to the world's worst joke.
His expression said, very clearly:
When did Hokage get this weak?
And for a moment, I honestly didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
Want more? Read up to Chapter 151+ early on patreon.com/nakai01. A single Power Stone from you = more bonus chapters from me.