The Third Hokage walked over to the low table and naturally pulled out a chair to sit down.
Menma sat back down as well, maintaining a silent and respectful posture, looking like nothing more than an ordinary boy from the Konoha Orphanage.
Meanwhile, Naruto excitedly tore at the wrapping twine of his gift box.
"Naruto, Menma." Sarutobi Hiruzen looked at the two children, his tone as gentle as if he were simply making small talk.
"Time flies. In the blink of an eye, you are both almost five years old." He paused, his gaze shifting between Naruto's excited face and Menma's calm expression before he continued slowly.
"In another year, you'll be of age to attend school."
Naruto snapped his head up, ignoring his half-opened gift. An incredible light erupted in his azure eyes, and he nearly jumped out of his seat. "The Ninja Academy? Really, Old Man Third? I can finally become a ninja? That's awesome! I want to go!"
Naruto had passed by the Ninja Academy more than once. Seeing the students playing happily together as they arrived or left school always filled him with envy.
He desperately wanted to make friends with others his own age.
Sarutobi Hiruzen nodded with a smile, then turned his gaze toward Menma, who had remained quiet. The smile was still warm, but deep in his eyes, there was a faint, imperceptible trace of inquiry and evaluation. "What about you, Menma?"
This black-haired boy, who grew up in the orphanage and was quiet yet exceptionally mature—according to the reports from the Anbu Intelligence Division, whether in the orphanage or after being adopted by the wealthy merchant Gato, his daily routines and life had always appeared ordinary.
Menma looked up, meeting the Third's gentle yet scrutinizing gaze.
His face showed no ripples of emotion, and his voice was clear and steady. "The Ninja Academy? Becoming a ninja sounds fine. I can't exactly spend my whole life dealing with money; how boring would that be?"
Sarutobi Hiruzen burst into laughter.
That merchant, Gato, was busy traveling for business and only returned to Konoha once or twice a year. Now that the child had expressed a distaste for business, it made Sarutobi Hiruzen want to cultivate him into a ninja all the more.
A Konoha ninja deeply influenced by the Will of Fire.
The smile on Sarutobi Hiruzen's face deepened, and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes softened, clearly satisfied with the answer. "Mm, very good."
He patted Naruto's shoulder and nodded to Menma. "Then it's settled. A year from now, I'll send you to the Academy. Especially you, Naruto—don't go causing trouble in class!"
"Hehe, I know, Old Man Third!" Naruto scratched his head and grinned sheepishly.
The Third sat for a while longer, chatting with Naruto about trivial matters, mostly asking about his daily life. Occasionally, he would gently ask Menma a few questions, but the conversation always revolved around the boys' mundane routines.
Menma's answers remained concise and proper.
Although he acted quite maturely, there were many such mature orphans in Konoha who were forced to grow up fast after losing their families to war. Thus, Sarutobi Hiruzen didn't pay it much mind.
Under the warm yellow light, the atmosphere seemed harmonious.
It wasn't until the tea in his cup was gone that Sarutobi Hiruzen slowly stood up.
"Alright, this old man won't bother you two little ones' New Year's Eve vigil any longer." He picked up his pipe from the side.
"Remember, in the new year, you must work hard." He took one last deep look at Naruto and Menma, his eyes still gentle.
"Thank you, Lord Hokage. Have a safe walk back," Menma rose respectfully to see him off.
"Bye, Old Man Third!" Naruto waved vigorously.
The door closed softly, sealing out the wind and snow, and separating them from the departing figure that carried an invisible aura of authority.
The house grew quiet again, leaving only the lingering warmth and scent of ramen broth.
Naruto was still immersed in the immense excitement of going to the Academy, chattering away.
Menma sat back down and picked up the cup of tea that had long since gone cold, but he didn't drink.
He turned his head slightly, his gaze falling on the snowy night scene outside the window.
Menma's fingertips lightly traced the rim of the cold teacup, and a faint, almost imperceptible curve touched his lips—one with a chilling edge.
He spoke in a low voice, so soft it was like a sigh, drowned out by Naruto's excited rambling.
"Konoha Year 56… what major events happened again?"
Deep in the heart of the Star Capital, a cold alloy corridor wound downward, eventually reaching a vast space protected by a high-intensity barrier.
This laboratory had been personally overseen by Guren—a subordinate of Orochimaru who possessed the Crystal Style Kekkei Genkai. Modified from an existing underground facility in the Star Capital, it had now become a collaborative laboratory for research between Shura and Orochimaru.
Brilliant shadowless lamps illuminated every detail. The air was thick with the scent of disinfectant, culture fluid, and a faint but persistent metallic smell of blood, so cold it felt as if it could freeze one's breath.
In the center of the lab, Kaguya Kimimaro lay quietly on an operating table that shimmered with a cold metallic light.
The boy's frame was thin, his skin a sickly, almost transparent pale white. Fine beads of sweat slid down his forehead, disappearing into his silver-white hair.
He wore only a simple white experimental robe. Beneath the open collar, his chest rose and fell slightly with his breathing, revealing several pale pink surgical scars that had not yet fully healed.
Most striking of all were the slightly bulging contours of new eye sockets beneath his closed eyelids.
Orochimaru stood by the operating table.
He was still dressed in his signature loose kimono with a shimenawa rope tied around his waist, his long black hair draped casually.
Currently, his narrow, golden slit pupils—shining with an inhuman desire for inquiry—were fixed on a specialized syringe in his hand.
The syringe was slowly drawing blood from the vein in the crook of Kimimaro's arm.
Under the harsh light, the blood exhibited a strange hue; it was no longer a pure red. Occasionally, one could even catch a glimpse of an extremely minute, needle-tip-sized bone particle flashing by.
"A marvelous harmony…" Orochimaru's raspy voice echoed in the silent lab, filled with unmasked admiration.
"Such a violent, unruly bloodline power, yet it managed to reach such an exquisite balance after the implantation of the Byakugan. Lord Shura, your methods surprise me every time."
His gaze lingered greedily on Kimimaro's closed eyelids, as if he could pierce through the flesh to see the transplanted Byakugan from the Hyuga Main House.
A few paces away from the operating table, a figure stood as still as a ghost.
He was entirely shrouded in a voluminous black robe, his face covered by that iconic, expressionless white three-eyed fox mask—a shadow clone of Menma.
Behind the eye-holes of the mask, his gaze was as calm as a deep pool, reflecting everything on the table without a single ripple.
In response to Orochimaru's praise, the shadow clone merely gave an extremely slight nod.
"The nature of the Kaguya clan's 'Shikotsumyaku' bloodline disease is essentially the awakening of a power sleeping deep within the lineage. This leads to an imbalance of Yang Release within the body, which cannot withstand the strain of that power," Menma's voice came through the mask—low, steady, and devoid of emotion, like he was stating a cold formula.