Drip… drip…
The sound of falling water echoed again and again through the arched underground space, mingling with a distant, mournful wind. Damp mold clung to the air, carrying the stale stench of rusted iron.
In the shadows crouched a pitch-black cat, its paws idly playing with several half-dead white snakes.
Each time a snake stopped moving, the cat loosened its grip—only to pin it down again the moment it twitched, its soft pads pressing with deliberate cruelty.
Then, as if sensing something, the cat raised its head.
Only then did its appearance become clear.
Its body was entirely black—but its eyes were mismatched.
One black.
One white.
To most people, it would look like a one-eyed cat.
But no one would imagine that the white eye was something the Five Great Nations coveted beyond measure—
A Byakugan.
After all, Kirigakure's jōnin Ao was infamous precisely because he possessed a stolen Byakugan, earning the title "The Byakugan Killer" and landing himself on Konoha's highest-priority wanted list.
No one would ever think a lunatic would transplant such a priceless dōjutsu—
Into a cat.
And yet, someone had.
The black cat picked up a snake corpse in its mouth and leapt soundlessly into the shadows of the interwoven pipes above, moving as lightly as if stepping on clouds.
Perched at a bend in the drainage pipe, its white eye widened slightly while the black one narrowed to a slit, fixed on the still water below.
Murky wastewater reached knee height, its oily surface reflecting the rusted tangle of pipes overhead.
Step… step…
Ripples spread across the water.
Three black figures sprinted across the surface, their reflections twisting grotesquely in the ripples.
Sarutobi Hiruzen and two ANBU had fought their way through countless traps and decoys left behind by Orochimaru before finally finding the correct route through the underground labyrinth.
This kind of damp, lightless environment suited only snakes and vermin.
Orochimaru truly was becoming more like a serpent.
"…."
Hiruzen suddenly halted, his gaze locking onto a rust-covered metal door ahead. His expression darkened as he raised a hand, signaling the ANBU forward.
BOOM—!
The door was blown open.
A nauseating stench rushed out—rot, disinfectant, and the sickly sweetness of decaying flesh, all driven forward by a cold draft.
Dim yellow lights flickered.
What lay beyond made Hiruzen's pupils constrict.
The laboratory walls were stained deep crimson, like an abstract painting painted in blood. Hanging bulbs swayed from the ceiling, flickering in and out of brightness.
The floor was layered with hardened black-brown residue—evidence that refused to be washed away.
Hiruzen clearly heard the two ANBU beside him draw sharp breaths.
Their eyes were locked on several towering cylindrical glass tanks.
Inside pale green fluid, human silhouettes floated, curled in unnatural poses. Their skin, soaked for years, had turned translucent and waxy. Exposed muscle tissue was crisscrossed with sutures resembling writhing maggots.
In some, chests were split open—hearts still beating.
In others, abdominal cavities housed twisted, snake-like organs, tangled together and linked by cables that extended outside the tanks like jellyfish tendrils.
There were many such subjects.
Blood-red serial numbers marked them:
42.
65.
Metal racks along the walls were crammed with glass jars containing organs at various stages of development, twitching grotesquely in preservative fluid.
"This…" one ANBU whispered, his voice shaking.
In truth, Hiruzen had prepared himself.
After all, Orochimaru's earliest human experiments—including Hashirama Cell transplantation—had been conducted with the tacit approval of Konoha's leadership.
Those subjects had volunteered, driven by the dream of reviving Wood Release.
Which meant Hiruzen was no innocent.
Even now, faced with this horror, part of him still felt guilt—and pity—for his former student.
Until—
He saw the deepest part of the laboratory.
Two overlapping shadows.
Because Orochimaru had his back to the entrance, Hiruzen first saw the operating table—
A child's face.
A severed neck.
Hyūga Gin.
There was no smile left on the boy's face—only terror.
Tears slid down his youthful cheeks as he weakly raised a hand toward Hiruzen, mouth opening soundlessly.
Hiruzen understood instantly.
"Third Grandpa…"
Then Orochimaru turned.
Cold, brilliant light illuminated his blood-smeared face, making the madness there seem even more grotesque.
At his feet lay a headless corpse, blood still spraying, transforming the laboratory into a hellish rain of red.
This sight struck Hiruzen harder than all the experiments combined.
Because he knew that boy.
As the honorary principal of the Ninja Academy, Hiruzen often visited to give speeches about the Will of Fire, cultivating the image of a kindly elder.
Once, he had spoken to Gin's class.
And he had noticed the boy's face—
Overflowing with longing and admiration.
Later, as usual, the teacher had collected written reflections.
Hiruzen rarely read them.
But that face lingered in his memory.
On a whim, he found the paper.
And froze.
"My home is like a great tree."
"Third Grandpa is the trunk."
"Regulating the inside, supplying nourishment."
"My father is the branches."
"Shielding from wind and rain."
"Though old and full of holes from worms, they sink their roots deep into the earth."
"They support the whole tree—and all its fruit."
"We are the fruit."
"Born to joy, fed without knowing who provides."
"I was too high above the ground."
"Perhaps only when I fall, am eaten, and become a seed…"
"…will I understand."
Hiruzen had grown numb to flattery and childish idolization.
But this—
Simple words. No ornamentation.
Perfectly embodying the Will of Fire.
Even subtly touching upon the tension between clan and village.
Especially those final lines—
They had pierced straight into his heart, warming his weary soul.
Yes.
Clans taught children to protect clan interests—but not to see themselves as part of Konoha.
Those children only saw the "branches" shielding them—
Never the trunk supporting everything.
This was a child who could rise above clan boundaries.
A good child.
A pure inheritor of the Will of Fire.
If anyone dared tell Hiruzen that Hyūga Gin was a bad child—
He would summon Enma and smash their skull on the spot.
And yet—
Now this child lay here.
As Gin's body slowly collapsed back onto the operating table, the last traces of hesitation vanished from Hiruzen's heart.
Veins bulged across his aged face.
"Orochimaru!" he roared.
"What are you doing?!"
"What have you DONE?!"
Orochimaru's heart sank.
He had never expected such fury.
By his understanding of his increasingly soft-hearted teacher, even exposure of human experimentation shouldn't have provoked lethal intent.
But now—
Before Orochimaru could even think of Gin—
Hiruzen was already forming seals.
Boar—Dog—Rooster—Monkey—Ram!
"Summoning Jutsu!"
POOF—!
White smoke exploded outward.
A massive monkey wearing a fur coat and Konoha forehead protector appeared.
"Did something happen, Hiruzen?" Enma asked—
Then froze upon seeing Orochimaru.
"Hiruzen!"
A furious shout cut him off.
POOF—!
Enma transformed instantly into an iron staff as thick as a pillar.
Using Enma from the start?!
Orochimaru's face darkened.
There was no time to think about why his white snakes hadn't warned him.
If he hesitated—
He would die here.
"Wind Release: Great Breakthrough!"
ROOOAR—!
A storm of compressed air and slicing wind erupted, shattering containers and flinging debris toward Hiruzen and the ANBU, blocking their vision.
Even now—
Orochimaru still tried to take Gin with him.
Hiruzen didn't even look.
The staff extended.
BAM—!
Already drained by surgery, Orochimaru was smashed aside midair, vomiting blood mixed with fragments of organs.
"Damn it… DAMN IT!!"
Seeing Hiruzen flash to Gin's side, Orochimaru knew—
He couldn't take the boy today.
Forcing himself to calm down—
"Earth Release: Hiding Like a Mole Technique!"
Using the impact, Orochimaru slammed into the ceiling, the solid stone turning fluid as he vanished underground.
"Third Hokage-sama!"
The ANBU stepped forward.
Hiruzen exhaled, fury easing slightly.
"Take the child. Get him medical treatment immediately."
"Understood!"
They vanished with Gin.
Underground, Orochimaru clutched his chest, his face ghostly pale.
Even at full strength, he couldn't defeat Hiruzen.
Escape was the only option.
Gin would have to be left behind—for now.
That damned brat…
Was all of this his doing?
Six years of manipulation—
Even calculating Hiruzen's response?
At fifteen?
A monster…?
Bursting from the ground—
He met a figure.
Silver hair. ANBU mask. Short blade on his back.
Hatake Kakashi.
"Lightning Blade!"
No words.
Just charge.
Orochimaru almost laughed.
Then—
Hiss.
A faint sound.
A black cat darted past.
It looked back.
Mocking.
And—
"Byakugan?!"
Orochimaru's pupils shrank.
BOOM—!!
Explosion tags detonated.
The entire base collapsed in fire and ruin.
Elsewhere, ANBU paused mid-leap.
"…Was that the Third?"
They didn't notice—
The faint smile on the unconscious boy's face.
"Still holding back?" Gin thought.
"I hope Orochimaru enjoys my parting gift."
He never expected Hiruzen to kill Orochimaru.
Emotion could never outweigh decades of mentorship.
But that didn't matter.
What he needed was innocence.
Whether Orochimaru lived or died was irrelevant.
In fact—
Such a useful piece shouldn't be discarded too early.
The sky was pale with dawn.
5 a.m.
Sunrise and sunset were one and the same.
"Next," Gin thought, closing his eyes,
"is the Tenseigan."
Caged Bird… Hyūga Clan…
From this moment—
The roles reverse.