Konoha, tonight, was unnaturally dark—
as though the sky itself had been soaked in ink.
Deep within the Forest of Death, where the darkness lay thick and viscous, countless serpentine shadows slithered through the undergrowth outside a stone cavern embedded in a fractured slope.
Hiss… hiss…
Sensing something amiss, the snakes slowly lifted their heads, scarlet tongues flickering as they surveyed their surroundings.
High in the distant treetops, several black-clad figures wearing masks appeared soundlessly, like nocturnal owls. Their arrival did not disturb the serpents below in the slightest.
"Is it here?"
At the forefront stood Sarutobi Hiruzen, clad in light armor. His expression was grim as he gazed toward the bottomless darkness of the cave, murmuring to himself in a low, heavy voice.
"Spread out," he ordered.
Shua! Shua!
The shadows behind him instantly dispersed, fragmenting into individual units that swept outward like black wings unfurling, sealing the entire area within a net of sharp beaks and talons.
This was ANBU—a special assassination and reconnaissance force, infamous for its efficiency, cruelty, and cold precision.
Recently, numerous genin, chūnin, and even ANBU operatives had vanished without explanation. One had to remember: any shinobi qualified to join ANBU was at minimum an elite chūnin, a core pillar of Konoha's strength.
Even with Shimura Danzō covering things up from the shadows, it was impossible to erase every trace.
The matter had finally drawn the attention of Sarutobi Hiruzen, who had been preoccupied with border conflicts in the Land of Fire. Almost immediately, his thoughts turned to recent intelligence reports—
Orochimaru had been acting strangely.
"…Orochimaru."
After a long silence, Hiruzen and two ANBU vanished. Only a sigh remained—one tinged with disappointment, and perhaps regret.
Meanwhile, far beneath the mountain cave—
Within a cold, damp, labyrinthine underground drainage system.
Drip… drip…
Only the sound of filthy water falling into stagnant pools echoed through the darkness.
Yet within one vast, hollow chamber, the space had been transformed into a secret laboratory.
"No matter how many times I see it, I can't help but marvel at the elegance and perfection of this body."
Standing beside an operating table, Orochimaru stared at the motionless corpse before him. The hunger and greed in his eyes nearly overflowed.
He had traveled across the shinobi world and seen countless well-preserved ancient bodies. Some had twisted skulls and bulging eyes; others were so bloated that their limbs burst through their clothes.
But this one was different.
The features were exquisitely refined—almost unearthly. Pale skin, jet-black hair with a gentle sheen. Even the eyelashes remained intact. With eyes closed, the corpse looked as though it were merely asleep.
Only the desiccated torso betrayed the truth—clear signs of dehydration, muscles atrophied beyond recovery.
Orochimaru was certain the boy was dead.
And yet… the body retained a faint vitality.
It felt as though the soul had slipped free, leaving behind nothing but an empty shell.
"So this is the Ōtsutsuki Clan…"
His chest rose and fell as he licked his dry lips.
According to ancient records preserved by the Hyūga Clan, the Ōtsutsuki were the progenitors of chakra and ninjutsu. Such overwhelming vitality and spiritual strength were only natural.
And yet—even an Ōtsutsuki bled red.
Based on his calculations, if every organ from this body were transplanted, it might even reverse-engineer his own physiology—granting him unparalleled vitality, bloodline potential, and talent for ninjutsu.
Such a procedure could only be performed by someone proficient in organ and cellular transplantation.
Even Tsunade couldn't do this.
It was as if this body had been prepared specifically for him.
With that thought, Orochimaru turned his gaze to the other operating table.
There, he met a pair of trembling, pale eyes.
The boy was only fifteen—roughly the same age as the corpse. Long black hair like silk spilled down his shoulders. His youthful face was pale and tense, and engraved upon his forehead was the unmistakable Caged Bird Seal.
Throughout Konoha—throughout the entire shinobi world—only the Hyūga Clan possessed such pure white eyes.
And only members of the Branch Family bore that cursed seal.
His name was Hyūga Gin.
The Ōtsutsuki corpse, as well as the ancient Hyūga texts detailing forbidden secrets, had all been offered to Orochimaru by Gin himself.
According to those records, the Hyūga were direct descendants of the Ōtsutsuki. Compatibility would be at its highest—minimizing rejection and fatal complications.
" Gin," Orochimaru said gently, deliberately omitting honorifics.
"Only the heart remains. Are you ready?"
The intimacy of the address was false—less familiarity, more ownership.
Everything you are belongs to me.
And in truth, it did.
Orochimaru had already branded him with a Cursed Seal. Once the transplantation was complete, once he perfected his body-switching soul technique, and once he破解—broke—the Caged Bird Seal…
This body would be his.
With the Cursed Seal in place, there was no risk of losing control.
A mere "failure" of the Hyūga Clan.
"Orochimaru-sama… please begin."
Gin's face was filled with fear, yet his voice was resolute. His eyes brimmed with reverence and gratitude.
"You killed that old man and avenged my parents. I willingly offer you this body I never controlled."
Orochimaru smiled faintly.
Assassinating a Hyūga Main Family elder inside the clan compound had not been easy. His former teacher had likely already realized who was responsible.
But it couldn't be helped.
The procedure required complete concentration. Maintaining life-support fūinjutsu left no room for genjutsu—the subject had to remain conscious.
Granting Gin his revenge was the only way to secure his cooperation.
It didn't matter.
Orochimaru had long since grown tired of Konoha. If obtaining the secrets of the Ōtsutsuki meant defecting, so be it.
"Orochimaru-sama… what are you planning?"
The final voice belonged to an elderly man in a white coat—the missing director of Konoha Hospital.
In truth, he was a medical specialist cultivated by Danzō.
Codename: Owl.
His eyes held fear far stronger than anger.
Orochimaru ignored him. Soon enough, the old man would comply.
Casting aside his last distraction, Orochimaru activated the intricate sealing array beneath his feet.
Hummm—
Black sealing patterns spread across Gin's body, restraining him while flooding him with chakra. An external blood-circulation system engaged—tubes piercing the aorta and venae cavae.
His kidneys, liver, pancreas, gallbladder—all had already been replaced with Ōtsutsuki organs.
Only the heart remained.
Squch.
A chakra scalpel formed in Orochimaru's hand. He opened the chest cavity with surgical precision, exposing blood-soaked organs, then excised the living heart—leaving only partial atrial tissue intact.
He removed the Ōtsutsuki heart from the corpse.
Though still, it remained vividly red.
He lifted it with near-reverence.
And placed it into Hyūga Gin's chest.
"You're attempting a heart transplant?" Owl whispered, trembling.
"With just the two of us?!"
"I think you can manage," Orochimaru replied coldly.
"Because if you can't… things may become rather bloody. Don't you agree?"
Owl's aged face twitched. He obediently stepped forward.
Vascular suturing began—crude, insane. A single mistake would mean instant death.
Yet under their hands, massive chakra flooded Gin's body, sustaining his life by sheer force.
Time passed.
Orochimaru's chakra reserves dwindled.
At last, the blood vessels fused. Even the cross-shaped incision on the chest began to close under Mystical Palm Technique.
"One final step," Orochimaru murmured.
"I'm releasing the life-support barrier."
Both men were pale from exhaustion.
" Gin… don't disappoint me."
Everything now depended on whether he could endure—
The power of the Ōtsutsuki.
THUMP.
A heartbeat thundered like a war drum.
Veins bulged across Gin's body, chakra surging violently.
The instruments screamed as his vital signs spiraled out of control.
"AAAH!!"
Even prepared, the pain tore through him. His blood felt like molten iron, bursting through capillaries, skin scorching hot.
"Use your chakra!" Orochimaru barked.
"Suppress it—control the heart!"
Buzz!
Chakra erupted from Gin's body.
Then—
Everything stopped.
Vital signs flatlined, then plummeted.
Alarms blared.
"Damn it!" Orochimaru snarled.
"The Hyūga should be the perfect host—how could he fail this quickly?!"
If even Gin couldn't endure it, he'd have to abduct a Main Family member.
He began forming another chakra scalpel—
Thump…
A faint sound halted him.
THUMP!
The heartbeat returned—stronger.
THUMP—THUMP—THUMP!
The lab fell deathly silent, save for the roar in Gin's chest.
"…This is—"
Joy surged across Orochimaru's face as he checked the instruments.
Vitals stabilized.
No—more than that.
They were inhuman.
"Finally…"
"Yes."
A gentle voice answered.
"Finally… it succeeded."
Orochimaru froze.
The boy on the table slowly opened his eyes.
Those once-pure white Hyūga eyes now shimmered like molten glass—iridescent, shifting between pale blue and white.
Yet what unsettled Orochimaru wasn't their color—
It was their emptiness.
Emotionless. Bottomless. Like stagnant death.
Blood evaporated from his skin, rising as crimson mist.
Power surged through every cell.
"You—"
Owl gasped—
Slash.
The blade was swift. Painless. Absolute.
Orochimaru turned instinctively—
Blood traced a thin red line across his cheek.
Behind him—
A headless body collapsed.
Blood rained down.
The severed head rolled, eyes wide with confusion.
"I've waited for this day… far too long."
Hyūga Gin sat up, smiling faintly.
"Such a night," he said softly,
"should be silent."