"Is he attempting that record?" Iruka murmured, his eyes widening as he finally understood Sasuke's intention.
"Tat-tat-tat!"
Three of the five shuriken Sasuke had initially launched struck the centers of the targets directly in front of him. Meanwhile, the remaining two shuriken continued their arcing flight paths, accompanied by the faint sound of air being cut as Sasuke's final two projectiles—thrown with his full strength—rapidly approached.
"Clink! Clink!"
Four shuriken collided in mid-air, creating a metallic ring that echoed across the training ground. The two shuriken that had been flying forward suddenly altered their trajectories, a maneuver that caused the surrounding students' expressions to shift from curiosity to astonishment.
Under everyone's watchful gaze, the deflected shuriken veered sharply toward the targets positioned on the left and right, embedding themselves firmly into the wooden surfaces.
A brief, stunned silence fell over the training ground before one student broke it with an excited shout: "Amazing!"
"Sasuke-kun is so awesome!" Immediately afterward, thunderous cheers erupted from the crowd.
"Lower your voices!" Iruka quickly intervened. "Other classes are still in session." Despite his admonishment, surprise was evident in his eyes as he regarded Sasuke.
"This guy..." Naruto muttered from within the crowd, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. Prior to the holiday break, Sasuke's shuriken skills had been impressive, but certainly not at this level. It seemed Naruto wasn't the only one who had dedicated himself to rigorous training during the past month.
Sasuke, indifferent to the reactions around him, critically examined the two side targets. Although his shuriken had hit them, they hadn't struck the centers perfectly. Compared to Itachi's original feat, there remained a significant gap.
Amid the continuing exclamations, Sasuke returned to his initial position as the next students prepared for their turn.
Far away in the Land of Sound—a country absent from current world maps and even now barely deserving of the designation "country"—a small ninja village had been established. This fledgling settlement was known as Otogakure, the Village Hidden in Sound.
To the northeast of Otogakure stretched a continuous mountain range riddled with countless primitive caves. These natural formations appeared nearly identical to one another; once you ventured away from a cave entrance, without some distinguishing marker, you would likely become hopelessly lost among the ancient peaks.
However, among these countless caverns, one in particular presented a different character altogether. From its entrance, this cave appeared no different from its neighbors for the first dozen meters or so. But deeper inside, the natural stone gave way to a laboratory filled with sophisticated instruments and enormous glass vessels.
These massive containers—each taller than a person—were filled with an eerie green liquid. Many such vessels lined the cave walls, and in three of them floated human-shaped shadows.
Standing before these three particular containers was a man with long black hair, observing their contents with an unsettling intensity. He held a clipboard in his hand, and his strange, snake-like eyes gleamed with calculated purpose.
This pale-skinned man with an almost sickly complexion was none other than Orochimaru, who had defected from Konoha seven years prior.
After what seemed an eternity of silent observation, Orochimaru slowly raised his gaze to the three human forms suspended in the vessels before him. His eyes held the cold, predatory focus of a serpent watching its prey—utterly devoid of emotion.
"Come out," he commanded, his voice slow and hoarse.
"Crack."
As his words fell, fissures suddenly appeared on the surface of the glass containers.
"Bang!"
The cracks rapidly expanded until the vessels shattered completely.
"Splash!"
Green fluid gushed out, flooding across the stone floor. The three naked individuals who had been suspended within the containers slowly stepped forward to stand before Orochimaru.
White scales covered portions of their skin, reminiscent of a snake's hide. Their eyes contained almost no pupils, instead glowing an alarming blood-red that gave them a terrifying appearance.
Orochimaru's expression remained unchanged. He retrieved three syringes from the ninja tool pouch at his back and injected each subject one after another.
"Hiss."
A slight sound emanated from the skin of the three test subjects as white, snake-like scales rapidly proliferated across their bodies.
As the scales spread, the flesh beneath began to writhe and shift unnaturally.
"AAAHHH!"
The undulation of flesh and blood evidently caused excruciating pain, causing two of the men to howl in unbearable agony.
Orochimaru's pupils contracted slightly with interest. He was well aware that the body transformation he had initiated should, theoretically, produce pain beyond what human nerves could tolerate.
Yet the third experimental subject endured in silence—a feat requiring extraordinary willpower that piqued Orochimaru's curiosity.
Gradually, the skin of all three subjects transformed completely into white scales, while the flesh beneath continued its grotesque undulation.
Agonized screams echoed throughout the cave as the three men collapsed before Orochimaru, their bodies convulsing violently as their flesh continued to writhe beneath their skin.
"Crack!"
Suddenly, the midsection of one subject began to split open. The fissures spread rapidly throughout his body before it exploded in a gruesome shower of viscera.
Blood, flesh, organs, and bone fragments splattered in every direction. Some blood speckled Orochimaru's face, but his expression remained impassive as he watched the two remaining subjects.
"AAAAHHH!"
One continued screaming in agony until, a minute later, his body detonated just like the first.
Orochimaru's attention shifted to the final remaining subject.
From beginning to end, this one had not uttered a single cry. Even his eyes, now unnaturally transformed into blood-red orbs due to the mutation, still retained a glimmer of rationality.
This resilience genuinely surprised Orochimaru, drawing a small smile to his lips.
The flesh throughout the subject's body continued to writhe and shift. Eventually even the bones seemed to mutate, transforming the person before Orochimaru into little more than an irregular mass of constantly twisting, pulsating tissue.
This grotesque metamorphosis continued for another half hour.
Finally, the writhing flesh began to slow its movements. The distorted form started healing at an astonishing rate, gradually reconstituting into a human shape.
The white, snake-like scales progressively lightened before sinking beneath the surface of the man's skin.
Having finally exhausted the last reserves of his willpower, the experimental subject lost consciousness.
As he lay there, his appearance gradually returned to normal—revealing a handsome boy who looked to be thirteen or fourteen years old.
"Success at last," Orochimaru whispered, his eyes burning with excitement as he gazed at the young man who had regained his human form.
He had been researching this particular subject for a considerable time, and today he had finally achieved a breakthrough!
In his elation, Orochimaru retrieved a document from the table behind him. Attached was a photograph showing the unconscious boy's appearance before the transformation. Though slightly altered now, the features remained recognizable.
The file was labeled: "Experimental Subject No. 49, Mukade."