c118 The Best Tool Man
A light evening rain fell quietly over Konoha, the kind of soft autumn drizzle that carried a biting chill. The scattered droplets tapped against tiled rooftops and dampened the winding alleys, casting a somber mood over the village still recovering from the Nine-Tails' rampage.
Inside a modest house nestled near the training grounds, warm lamplight flickered against the wooden walls. Orochimaru and Gen Uchiha sat at a low dining table, sharing a meal in silence that felt more deliberate than awkward.
After dinner, Anko, still preoccupied with Kurenai, excused herself with an umbrella in hand and headed toward the Yūhi residence. Meanwhile, teacher and student sipped tea beneath the eaves, their conversation sheltered but direct, like the drumming rain around them.
"Now that the Fourth is gone... teacher, are you going to vie for the Hokage's seat?"
Orochimaru arched a brow, a slight curl at the edge of his lips. "Are you asking for yourself or for the Uchiha clan?"
Gen met his gaze calmly. "Is there a difference?"
"Strictly speaking, the Uchiha and I don't share identical visions. But we're not working against each other either."
"Has the clan approached you?"
"Not yet. But it's only a matter of time. You're here to find out where I stand, aren't you?"
"What do you mean, teacher?"
Orochimaru sipped his tea, his snake-like eyes drifting toward the Sarutobi compound. There was a flicker of something regret, nostalgia, or calculation before he replied, "I want to see whether, with Minato gone and Jiraiya and Tsunade unwilling, the old man will finally choose me."
At this point in the manga, only three Sannin remained viable successors: Jiraiya, who was absent and disinterested; Tsunade, who had vanished from the village; and Orochimaru, who remained the most visible and politically viable candidate assuming Sarutobi didn't return from retirement himself.
"You're planning to do nothing and just wait?"
"Yes."
"What if I publicly support you?"
"Then I become Hokage. I'll be overworked, but that's the job."
"And if I don't?"
"Then... our bond ends. Master and disciple in name only."
"You can't wait forever. There must be a cutoff."
"When the village stabilizes. Then, they'll have no choice but to put the matter on the agenda."
Gen nodded, watching the falling rain without emotion. He sipped his tea, voice level. "You've already made your choice. I respect that."
Orochimaru narrowed his eyes. "You're not even going to try persuading me?"
He knew the political reality: with Jiraiya refusing, Tsunade gone, and support from powerful clans like the Uchiha, Orochimaru's path to Hokage was clear if he chose to walk it. And if he became Hokage, Gen's future would be bright. He would be the apprentice of the Hokage a title that came with immense power and political security.
In a village ruled by clans, legacy meant everything.
And yet, this disciple usually so pragmatic didn't push. Why?
"Teacher, that's only part of it," Gen smiled faintly. "The real reason? My strength is growing. I can feel it. I'm close to a breakthrough. Once I'm strong enough, being Hokage's apprentice won't mean much anymore."
Orochimaru's brows rose. "Oh? Confident, are we? Want to spar?"
"We can. But there's no need."
Orochimaru let out a deep laugh, the kind that echoed from the throat and chest. "You never fail to amuse me."
Gen's expression shifted, serious now. "Let's talk business."
"Business?"
"You rarely visit unless you need something. What is it this time? Trouble in your research?"
Gen shook his head. "On the night of the Nine-Tails attack, a group of non-human entities infiltrated the village disguised as Kirigakure operatives. Their goal seemed to be diversion they kept ANBU occupied while the masked man attacked the seal."
Orochimaru's gaze sharpened immediately.
"Non-human?"
"They were humanoid, covered entirely in white, with faces like masks identical. They didn't bleed like normal shinobi, and their chakra was… strange."
Gen leaned in slightly. "They're being analyzed by ANBU and the Medical Corps now. Based on early chakra and cell structure readings, I believe they're somehow tied to Hashirama Senju's cells to Mokuton."
Orochimaru's snake-like grin widened. "You think they're related to the First Hokage's genetic legacy?"
"Exactly. Some ANBU theorize they were grown using modified Hashirama cells."
This resonated with the information Hiruzen had already shared with Orochimaru that the masked attacker wielded both Mangekyō Sharingan and Wood Release, abilities tied respectively to Uchiha and Senju bloodlines.
"You want to study them?"
"I just need two. I know Root's taken some in already. As Deputy Director, you have access."
Gen didn't mention it aloud, but his personal goal went beyond genetics. His Soul Perception Technique had failed to detect their spiritual presence, which led him to suspect either their souls were fundamentally different or that they had no soul at all.
Yet that couldn't be. Anything that could resist the Reaper Death Seal had to contain some kind of soul.
In truth, he wanted to test a theory: using the Soul-Soul Fruit, a unique ability he'd awakened, he hoped to create Homitz artificial beings using White Zetsu corpses as vessels. Unlike human bodies, these synthetic organisms might accept fragmented souls.
If successful, he could generate tireless, chakra-capable operatives to collect souls and train under his command. White Zetsu's unique traits chakra suppression, mimicry, travel via underground Mayfly Technique, and lack of biological needs made them ideal.
The perfect tools.
With Homitz gathering souls across the world, his Mangekyō Sharingan would awaken through sheer accumulation not trauma.
"You truly are your teacher's student," Orochimaru said, intrigued. "Such creativity. I'll grant your request. If I have surplus specimens, two are yours."
"Thank you, teacher." Gen bowed with uncharacteristic sincerity.
"Actually... I can't wait anymore." Orochimaru stood suddenly, downed his tea in a single gulp, and stepped into the rain. "I'm heading to Danzo now. Root definitely has stock. I'll start dissection tonight."
"Make yourself at home. Sleep here if you like. Lock up if you leave."
Without another word, Orochimaru vanished into the sodden night, melding with the damp earth like a serpent born of the rain.
Gen blinked, watching the space where his teacher had stood.
"No wonder he's accomplished so much," he muttered with a smirk. "That man lives for research."
Finishing his tea, Gen cleared the table and packed away the dishes. Then, stepping into the chill, he let the wind and rain wash over him.
Sometimes, a little discomfort reminded you that you were alive.
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