Inside Orochimaru's study, it was as if he had become a completely different person.
Gone was the image of a mad scientist obsessed only with forbidden techniques. What stood before Uchiha Yoru now was a man who saw Konoha's political landscape with unsettling clarity.
Yoru felt a quiet shock settle in his chest. Of course. Anyone who could stand as a serious Hokage contender could never be ignorant of politics. The Fourth Hokage hadn't risen by accident either. That outcome had been decided by the Third's hand long before the final vote.
"The initiative has never been ours," Orochimaru said calmly. "The king is still standing at the peak of his reign. And when a king is at his strongest, touching his bottom line is the most dangerous thing you can do."
He glanced down at the forbidden scroll in his hand and let out a faint, mocking laugh.
So this is your choice again, sensei…You abandoned me once before. How will you do it this time? Exile? Reassignment? Or something worse?
The first time, Orochimaru had chosen silence. He had accepted it.
The thought twisted into that familiar, chilling smile, and his hoarse laughter echoed softly through the dim room.
"I may not be Sakumo Hatake," Orochimaru murmured, "but I have my own ninja way. And isn't this exactly what you allowed me to discover, sensei? The path I buried deep in my heart."
Yoru understood immediately.
All political maneuvering was meaningless if the Third Hokage chose to step in personally.
If Hiruzen Sarutobi remained an observer, there was still room to maneuver. But if he took the stage himself, resistance became almost impossible.
Decades of authority. The prestige of holding the village together after the Fourth Hokage's death. The lingering awe of a man still standing at the edge of his prime.
The Third Hokage looked like a kindly old man, but politically, he was an absolute ruler. And his strength was still terrifying.
In this warped shinobi world, every leader was the same. Hashirama Senju had been no different. His vision of peace had been law, even to Uchiha Madara.
A distorted world, Yoru thought, smiling faintly.And yet… power born from a great clan still tastes intoxicating.
"Your strength is growing quickly, Yoru," Orochimaru said, studying him with interest. "You're just missing the final refinement. With a bit more polish, you might become the windmill that finally stirs this stagnant village."
The way Orochimaru looked at him made Yoru's scalp prickle, as if he were being examined like a fascinating experiment.
"Sensei—" Yoru began.
Orochimaru cut him off with a low laugh.
"From the beginning, I saw it," he said. "Your ambition. Your pride. Different from the rest of the Uchiha. You're confident to the bone. And you enjoy what power gives you, no matter how carefully you hide it."
The mask finally fell.
Yoru's habitual polite smile faded, replaced by something sharper. Arrogance bled through, mixed with an unmistakable hunger.
"Orochimaru-sensei," he said evenly, "if the one at the very top were strong enough to dominate the entire shinobi world… and immortal… what do you think this world would become?"
He paused, then smiled with quiet amusement.
"And if there were only one village left. One voice. One authority. Would there still be shinobi wars? Wouldn't that make me… a savior of the world?"
Orochimaru stared at him.
Then he laughed. Deeply. Hoarsely.
"So your ambition reaches that far," he said, eyes narrowing with fascination. "Interesting. Very interesting."
His expression softened into something almost reverent.
"At that point, the world wouldn't welcome another Sage of Six Paths. No… sages belong to legend. What would appear instead would be a true immortal."
Yoru's smile widened.
"Not one," he corrected. "Two. Two immortals ruling the shinobi world together."
Orochimaru froze for a heartbeat.
Then his grin twisted into something wild.
"Exactly," he whispered. "When there are enough outliers, they stop being outliers. They become the standard."
Immortals were monsters only when they stood alone. A collective of immortals would become legitimacy itself.
For the first time, Orochimaru felt something he hadn't in years.
He wasn't walking this road alone anymore.
"No one is born standing in the heavens," Yoru said quietly. "Not you. Not me. Not even the Sage. But the throne above the sky has been empty for far too long. From today onward… you and I will stand at the top."
Orochimaru smiled back.
Two men. Two madmen, by the world's standards. One seeking endless life, the other seeking absolute rule.
To outsiders, it would sound like delusion.
But Orochimaru knew better.
Power always chased ambition.
Snow fell gently over Konoha, blanketing the village in false peace.
At the Hyūga compound, inside the main family's heated training hall, dull impacts echoed rhythmically.
Gentle Fist.
The sounds were light. Immature.
The Hyūga heir was only three years old.
Hyūga Hinata stood in the center, her small hands trembling as she followed her father's instructions. Hyūga Hiashi watched her closely, disappointment flickering deep in his eyes.
Her talent wasn't terrible.
It was just overshadowed.
At the edge of the hall, Hyūga Hizashi sat on the tatami, watching his brother and niece train. The scene felt bitterly ironic.
"Remember this, Neji," Hizashi said quietly to his son. "You were born to protect Lady Hinata. That is the duty of the branch family."
"Yes, Father!" Neji replied brightly.
His innocent Byakugan reflected Hinata's small figure with a pure smile.
So this is the cousin I'm meant to protect?
The smile stabbed Hizashi like a blade.
Why was his son, so gifted, branded with the Caged Bird before he even understood what it meant? Why did a child with less talent receive protection, while Neji was born in chains?
Resentment surged.
For the first time, Hizashi lost control.
Chakra flared.
Hiashi reacted instantly, flashing in front of Hinata.
Killing intent.
Hiashi's hand seals snapped into place.
A scream tore through the hall.
Even an elite jōnin like Hizashi collapsed, clutching his head as the Caged Bird seal burned through his nerves.
Hinata froze, terrified.
Neji stared in horror.
"Father—!"
Hiashi's voice was cold. Absolute.
"Leave. I will forgive this once. Remember your place. Remember your fate."
The words carved themselves into Neji's heart.
Hiashi turned away without another glance.
Hizashi knelt in agony, shame flooding him not for himself, but for his son.
No father wanted to pass shackles to his child.
As Neji helped him stand, Hizashi's eyes hardened.
Orochimaru…
For the sake of his son, he could no longer hesitate.
Later, alone in the snow, Hinata wandered outside the compound.
Three village children pointed at her.
"Hey, Hyūga! Show us your weird eyes!"
"Yeah, don't look at us! They're creepy!"
"Byakugan monster."
Their laughter cut deeper than they knew.
Hinata lowered her head, snowflakes melting against her cheeks.
The village was peaceful.
But cracks had already begun to spread beneath the surface.