Drip... drip...
The sound of dripping water echoed in layers through the arched space, mixed with distant whimpers carried on the wind. The moist, moldy air was tinged with the stench of rusted iron.
A pitch-black cat lay crouched in the shadows, batting lazily at several half-dead white snakes.
Each time a snake stopped moving, the cat would lift its paw—allowing the snake to struggle again—before pressing it back down with a soft pad. There was a twisted pleasure in the game.
But suddenly, the cat raised its head, sensing something.
Only then did its appearance become clear.
The all-black cat had one black eye and one white.
Most people would assume it was blind in one eye, unaware that the white eye was a Byakugan—a treasure coveted by all four great ninja villages.
In the Mist Village, a Jonin named Ao was known as the "Byakugan Killer" for possessing a single Byakugan, and was even placed on Konoha's most-wanted list.
No one would ever imagine someone would implant such a precious eye into a cat.
And yet—someone did.
The black cat picked up the white snake's corpse in its mouth and disappeared into the overhead pipes like a shadow, silent as mist.
Perched at a drainage bend, its white pupil dilated while the black one narrowed to a slit, locking onto the still surface of the murky water below.
The grimy, oil-slicked water reflected the corroded pipes above.
Splish… splash…
Moments later, ripples spread across the water. Three black figures raced across the surface, their shapes twisting in the reflection like phantoms.
Hiruzen Sarutobi and two ANBU had worked hard to get here, avoiding Orochimaru's countless traps and decoys before finally navigating the labyrinth of underground tunnels.
Only snakes and rats would thrive in a place like this. Orochimaru truly was becoming more serpent than man.
"…"
Hiruzen suddenly stopped, eyes fixed on a rust-covered door. His expression darkened, and he motioned the ANBU forward.
Boom!!
With a dull crash, the door was broken open.
A wave of stench rushed out—rotting flesh, disinfectant, and blood-soaked decay all rolled into one sickening assault.
Dim yellow lights cast harsh shadows, illuminating a scene that made Hiruzen's pupils contract.
The walls were stained in blood, an abstract mural of madness. Flickering ceiling lights swung from the vibration of the blast.
The floor was crusted in black-brown sludge, as if scrubbed countless times yet still clinging with the guilt of sins.
Hiruzen could hear the ANBU behind him breathing sharply.
Inside the lab stood multiple glass cylinders, tall and round, filled with pale green fluid. Within each, curled humanoid figures floated—translucent, waxy, and grotesque.
Their muscles were stitched crudely like maggots on flesh. Hearts thumped within opened chest cavities. Their abdomens tangled with snake-like organs, wires extending like jellyfish tendrils out of the containers.
And there were dozens of them, labeled in blood-red: "32," "42," "65"...
On nearby shelves, jars contained organs at different stages of development, twitching with uncanny life.
"This is…" one ANBU murmured, eyes shaking beneath the mask.
Truthfully, Hiruzen wasn't surprised—he had known this was coming.
After all, Orochimaru's earliest human experiments—particularly those involving Hashirama's cells—were carried out with his tacit approval, even encouragement.
Yes, the subjects had volunteered to revive Wood Style.
And yes—Hiruzen was not a kind man.
This world was not black and white, but a delicate shade of gray.
Even now, a part of him still felt guilt and sorrow for his wayward student.
Until he saw the back of the lab.
There—two silhouettes overlapped under the light.
Orochimaru was turned away, so Hiruzen first saw the boy on the table—his youthful face and slashed throat.
Hyuga Shigure's face no longer bore that gentle smile. It was contorted with fear. Tears streamed down his cheeks.
He saw Hiruzen, tried to lift his hand, opened his mouth—
But no sound came.
Yet Hiruzen could clearly read his lips.
"Grandpa Third…"
Then Orochimaru turned.
Light glared off his pale, blood-splattered face, making him appear almost demonic.
A headless corpse still bled beneath him. The lab had become a bloody hellscape, nightmarish and real.
This—this horror eclipsed even the grotesque experiments.
And what hit Hiruzen hardest… was that he knew that boy.
As honorary principal of Konoha's ninja academy, he often visited to give speeches about the Will of Fire.
He had once visited Shigure's class—and noticed the light in the boy's eyes as he spoke.
Later, the teacher had asked students to write their impressions.
He hadn't planned to read them—until he recalled that boy's expression.
So he dug out the nearly forgotten essay.
And froze.
"My home is like a great tree with deep roots and lush leaves."
"Grandpa Third is the trunk."
"Sometimes nurturing, sometimes providing."
"My father is a branch and a leaf."
"Sometimes sheltering me from wind and rain."
"Though old and weathered, though full of holes, they still bury their roots deep into the earth, holding up the tree and its fruits."
"We are the fruits."
"Our family rejoices at our birth. We sip sweet nutrients, shielded from harm."
"But we forget—who gave us those nutrients? Who shielded us?"
"I was too high above it all."
"Maybe… when I fall, chewed and discarded on the ground…"
"As a seed, sprouting—I will understand."
Hiruzen had grown tired of flattery. But this essay, simple in language yet rich in truth, perfectly embodied the Will of Fire.
Especially those last three lines—they pierced his heart.
The ninja clans only taught children to protect their own.
None taught them to see themselves as part of Konoha.
This boy—Shigure—was different.
He saw the whole village.
He was a child who could transcend the limitations of clan loyalty and truly inherit the Will of Fire.
If anyone dared call Hyuga Shigure a bad kid, Hiruzen would smash their skull with his staff on the spot.
But now…
That child lay bleeding on a table.
The sorrow and guilt in Hiruzen's heart evaporated—replaced by pure, righteous fury.
"Orochimaru!" he roared. "What are you doing?!"
"What have you done?!"
For the first time in years, Hiruzen truly lost control.
Orochimaru flinched—shocked at the fury in his mentor's eyes.
He never expected this.
The man he knew—soft and hesitant—wouldn't lift a hand against him, even if his crimes were exposed.
Why now…?
Before he could respond, Hiruzen had already begun weaving hand signs.
Boar–Dog–Bird–Monkey–Ram!
"Summoning Jutsu!"
Boom!
Smoke exploded.
Beside him appeared a massive, fur-coated monkey with a Leaf forehead protector.
"Trouble, Hiruzen?"
The monkey glanced up—and froze.
"Orochimaru…"
"Enma!"
With a shout, the monkey turned into a giant staff.
To start with Enma?!
Orochimaru's face twisted.
No time to wonder why the white snake hadn't warned him.
If he hesitated—he'd die here!
"Wind Style: Great Breakthrough!!"
Whooosh!!
A torrent of wind howled forth, sharp blades riding the gusts.
Jars shattered. Debris flew. The ANBU's view was blocked.
Even now—Orochimaru wanted to retrieve Shigure.
But Hiruzen didn't hesitate.
His staff stretched—and slammed into Orochimaru.
Smash!
Already drained from surgery, Orochimaru was sent flying.
He vomited blood and organ fragments midair.
"Damn it! DAMN IT!!"
He watched Hiruzen appear at Shigure's side.
He knew—it was over.
But he didn't panic.
"Earth Style: Hiding Like a Mole!"
Forming seals mid-air, he kicked off the ceiling, melded into stone—and vanished.
"Lord Third!"
The ANBU stepped up, watching the old man in awe.
Hiruzen exhaled slowly, then turned to Shigure.
"Take this child to be treated. Save his life—at all costs."
"Yes, sir!"
They vanished in a flash.
Meanwhile, underground, Orochimaru clutched his chest.
Even at full power, he couldn't beat Hiruzen.
He had to flee.
Shigure would stay—for now.
But he must survive.
He must remain useful.
Still, the frustration burned.
How had it all unraveled so quickly?
That damn kid!
Could it be…?
Had he planned this from the beginning?
Had he played him—and even Hiruzen?
He's fifteen! Is he a monster?!
As he broke through the ground—
"Lightning Blade!"
A silver-haired figure lunged—no hesitation.
Kakashi Hatake.
Lightning pierced the air.
Another brat! Arrogant fools!
Just as Orochimaru moved to retaliate—
Hiss!
He froze.
A black cat dashed past—looked back.
It wore an unmistakable smirk.
And in one white eye—
Byakugan?!
Orochimaru's pupils shrank.
Too late.
BOOM!!
Dozens of explosive tags detonated.
The base collapsed. Blood and flesh rained down.
Far away, in a tree—
Two ANBU halted, Shigure in their arms.
They turned toward the explosion, stunned.
They didn't notice the faint smile forming on Shigure's lips.
"Still held back, didn't you?" he thought, amused.
"Hope you enjoy my parting gift, Orochimaru."
He never expected Hiruzen's rage to kill him—decades of mentorship wouldn't break so easily.
But it didn't matter.
All he wanted was to clear his name.
Orochimaru's fate was irrelevant.
He was a valuable chess piece—too good to waste.
As long as he wasn't dead, he could be used again.
Shigure glanced skyward.
Dawn approached.
The sun, always both setting and rising.
"Next… the Tenseigan," he murmured.
Hyuga Clan. Caged Birds.
The fake shall become real, the weak feign strength.
From this moment on—
The game has changed.