Deep beneath the earth, inside a hidden base.
In the dimly lit study, Orochimaru stared at the massive scroll before him, a twisted smile spreading across his face. A moment later, he burst into unrestrained laughter.
"Edo Tensei… to think such a technique still exists in the shinobi world. A fusion of near-extinct onmyōdō and ninjutsu. Perfect. Absolutely perfect. Another key to unlocking the mysteries of the soul."
His hoarse, almost manic laughter echoed through the room. At the corner of his purple eyes, two faint traces of moisture shimmered before vanishing.
Uchiha Yoru had just stepped inside when he saw Orochimaru like this. He frowned slightly but said nothing, walking forward in silence and turning his attention to the enormous scroll.
Edo Tensei.
As he read, realization dawned on him. No wonder Uchiha Madara had known this technique and even understood how to release it.
Officially, Edo Tensei was attributed to the Second Hokage. Yet its history never quite added up. If it had been perfected early in Konoha's founding, Madara's knowledge would make sense. But Tobirama never used it during his final mission in the Land of Lightning. The only explanation was that the technique had never been completed.
Its origins went back even further, to the Warring States era. A forbidden art created by combining dark spiritual practices with ninjutsu. Madara and Hashirama had once destroyed its creators together, recovering fragments of the technique in the aftermath. Incomplete. Damaged. Dangerous.
Orochimaru chuckled softly.
"Back then, the Second Hokage intended to revive the First," he said. "But the research barely began before it was sealed away."
To Orochimaru, this was treasure beyond measure.
Edo Tensei, a technique that toyed with the soul itself. If perfected, it could reveal the deepest truths of spiritual existence.
And then there was the other path.
Living Corpse Reincarnation.
A method to abandon aging bodies and claim new ones, preserving youth indefinitely.
Two forbidden techniques, seemingly unrelated, yet both touching the same taboo: the soul.
They fit Orochimaru perfectly.
As his obsession with immortality deepened, Yoru finally spoke, his voice low.
"Orochimaru-sensei, there hasn't been any movement toward selecting the Fifth Hokage for a long time now."
The room fell silent.
The feverish expression on Orochimaru's face faded. He turned slowly, studying Yoru with narrowed eyes before letting out a raspy chuckle.
"So you care about that seat."
Yoru nodded without hesitation.
"If you became the Fifth Hokage, sensei, the Uchiha wouldn't be marginalized. We'd enter the village's core leadership openly. Konoha itself would become your backing. Endless resources. Endless freedom to research immortality."
He paused, then added honestly, "And I'd finally be able to set my burdens down."
None of it was false. If Orochimaru took the seat, Yoru's standing would rise with him. He would gain access to higher authority and no longer need to maneuver so carefully.
Standing beneath a great tree made the shade easy to enjoy, as long as one remained useful.
Orochimaru studied his disciple for a long moment. Then, instead of discussing forbidden techniques, he casually tossed another scroll across the table.
Yoru caught it and opened it.
"These are Konoha's border defense layouts," Orochimaru said calmly. "And a breakdown of how the major clans control the Fire Country's trade."
His tone was composed. Precise.
"The Nara control roughly forty percent of the medicinal herb trade. The Akimichi dominate over half of the military ration supply. The Yamanaka oversee the intelligence network. Others carve up what remains."
Orochimaru's eyes glinted.
"Even the Uchiha are involved, though not deeply. You and the Hyūga, however, control the largest share of the kunai, shuriken, and chakra-metal trade across the Fire Country."
At this moment, he was no longer a mad researcher chasing immortality.
He was a politician.
Yoru scanned the scroll, his expression growing heavy. Every piece of Konoha's利益 structure was laid bare. Who held what. How much. Where power truly flowed.
Orochimaru smiled, that uniquely hoarse, compelling smile.
"Konoha is stagnant," he said. "A pool of still water. Every benefit already divided, cleanly and completely."
He continued quietly, "Yoru, your political instincts are the sharpest I've seen among your generation. Sharper even than mine."
Then his gaze deepened.
"But you've missed one thing. In this stagnant pool, there is a king. An unshakable king, surrounded by loyal followers. As long as he nods, the water stirs. Competition begins. The strong rise, the weak fall."
"Or," he added softly, "everything collapses."
His snake-like eyes gleamed.
"The pool is small. And at the height of his power, that king grew afraid. Afraid the kingdom he built would crumble. Afraid his ideals would be replaced. He is proud. Arrogant."
"A king can accept being surpassed by age," Orochimaru said. "He can accept being replaced. But he will never allow his will to be trampled."
He looked directly at Yoru.
"Every powerful shinobi has an unyielding belief. You and I included."
Yoru understood.
The Third Hokage was the reigning king. Orochimaru was the challenger. Both had their own visions. Neither would bend.
Without the Third Hokage's approval, Orochimaru would face not just one man, but an entire alliance of clans and shinobi bound by his ideology.
Orochimaru's influence was vast. The Uchiha. The Hyūga. Countless civilian shinobi. But would they stake everything for him?
Political struggle wasn't war.
To stake everything was to flip the board. And flipping the board meant annihilation.
The civilian shinobi might gamble everything.
But the Hyūga wouldn't.
And the Uchiha?
Yoru smiled bitterly.
The Uchiha had placed chips on the table, yes. They wanted to return to the village's center of power. But they would never bet their entire future.
Not unless the candidate was one of their own.