Shiranui Riku had now been undergoing rigorous training in Orochimaru's underground base for nearly a month.
Unlike any typical mentor, Orochimaru didn't ease his students in gently. From the very start, he imposed intense training tasks that felt manageable at first—until you realized the deeper layers of torment they carried. What appeared simple on the surface became a relentless grind, inflicting a double-edged pain: physical exhaustion paired with mental weariness, enough to make anyone lose hope for the future.
Yet, despite his cruel methods, Orochimaru was undeniably a top-tier teacher.
He customized lessons based on the student's abilities, immediately identifying Riku's weaknesses and doubling down on those areas with brutal efficiency.
If only he didn't summon so many snakes.
Ordinary snakes had long since ceased to be a threat to Riku. Now, his limbs were strapped with weights, and the snakes used in training were the real deal—summoned from Ryuchi Cave, powerful chakra-infused serpents that made the training exponentially harder.
More than once, Riku found himself in incredibly awkward, even dangerous situations due to these snakes.
Recently, he had begun learning the Shadow Clone Technique. It wasn't the forbidden A-rank Multi Shadow Clone Jutsu, but the standard version, allowing him to create only one clone at a time. Still, Riku wanted to mimic Naruto's approach and use clones for parallel training.
Big mistake.
The first time he tried it, he nearly blacked out. Not only did the clone's experience return to the original body, but so did the exhaustion. Double the fatigue, double the pain—it felt like dying.
Even so, it wasn't quite as traumatic as the time the system had forced his body to simulate Thunder Breathing. Just thinking about that moment still gave him chills.
Now, Riku mainly used his shadow clone to absorb knowledge. The clone would learn and then transfer the memory back to him, saving time and avoiding complete burnout.
Each day, his physical energy and chakra reserves were pushed to the limit. But every evening, Orochimaru would hand him a special glass of liquid.
"This is a nutrient solution I developed," Orochimaru once explained. "It'll replenish your nutrients and remove fatigue."
Riku drank the solution nightly and slept soundly until morning. By the time he woke, his body was completely refreshed. Without it, this daily grind would have broken him long ago.
Today, however, Orochimaru had left the base in the morning after giving a simple instruction: "Train on your own."
But even in his absence, Riku didn't slack off. His training wasn't for anyone else—it was for himself.
By noon, morning training was done. He peeled off his weighted gear, wiped the sweat from his brow with a towel, and headed toward the kitchen to eat and rest before starting afternoon ninjutsu practice.
Usually, Orochimaru handled cooking duties. Riku only had to focus on training. But with Orochimaru gone, it was up to him to make lunch. He decided on something simple—udon noodles.
Just as he began prepping vegetables, Orochimaru returned, now dressed in a ninja outfit.
"I have a C-rank mission for you," Orochimaru said bluntly. "We're heading out now."
Caught off guard, Riku paused. "Eh? That sudden?"
Leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, Orochimaru replied, "It's about time. The mission is to eliminate a group of bandits. Let's see how far your training has taken you."
Riku flicked the water from his hands and nodded. "Alright. Let me grab my sword."
Before he could leave, Orochimaru tossed him a ninja tool pouch.
Riku caught it mid-air. Inside were five kunai, a handful of shuriken, and several explosive tags—items far beyond what Riku could afford. He had no income. Every meal, every supply—everything came from Orochimaru.
Now, Orochimaru was even providing him with expensive ninja tools. Riku felt both grateful and slightly embarrassed.
"Thank you, Orochimaru-sensei."
Sword in hand, Riku followed Orochimaru out of Konoha.
It had been years since he'd left the village. A wave of nostalgia and unease washed over him as the gates faded behind him. Thoughts of his parents flooded his mind.
They had been loving, caring people. If not for those precious four years together, Riku wasn't sure he would've survived, let alone stayed sane. In this brutal shinobi world, he might have become just another soulless weapon.
But because he had once tasted happiness, Riku now had something to fight for. For himself. For Uzumaki Kushina. For the future.
"Thinking about something?" Orochimaru asked, keenly picking up on Riku's shift in mood.
Riku inhaled deeply, then forced a small smile. "Not really. I was just realizing this is my first time leaving the village since I came back. I guess I'm a little excited."
Orochimaru gave him a sidelong glance and smirked. "Is that so…"
He knew better. It wasn't excitement in Riku's eyes—it was memory. Probably of his parents. Orochimaru said nothing further, letting the silence settle.
...
Their destination was in the Land of Rice Fields—a small, neighboring nation with no hidden village of its own. Due to its daimyo's negligence, bandits ran wild across the countryside.
Orochimaru had taken on a C-rank mission for Riku: eliminate the bandit group that had recently looted and burned several villages.
They stood atop a mountain ridge overlooking a village below.
It was supposed to be peaceful, but the streets now teemed with blood-stained bandits. The villagers were all dead. Judging by the noise, the bandits were in the middle of a celebration—probably a feast commemorating their latest slaughter.
Orochimaru pointed to the chaos below. "Your mission is to wipe them out. You are not allowed to use Thunder Breathing. You may use swordsmanship, taijutsu, ninjutsu, and your Sharingan. Understood?"
Riku nodded sharply. "Understood."
"Then go."
With a flicker, Riku vanished, using the Body Flicker Technique.
He infiltrated the village solo.
Step one: gather intel.
The bodies of the villagers were strewn throughout the houses—men, women, children. No one had been spared. The only living beings in the village were the murderers.
All of them had gathered in the village center, drinking and roaring with laughter, celebrating their atrocities. Their stolen treasure was piled in the middle. Dried blood stained their armor and skin.
Riku quietly made his way around the perimeter, counting heads and noting their positions.
Finally, he crouched in the shadows nearby. Slowly, he reached into his tool pouch and drew a kunai.
His eyes sharpened. His grip tightened.
The bandits had no idea death was already among them.