The tempo of battle shifted.
Tatsuya stood just behind the crumbling edge of the chamber, the scorched air ruffling the hem of his cloak. He said nothing. He didn't need to. The battlefield ahead had become a crucible—Orochimaru and the Third Hokage were now casting jutsu with brutal cadence.
"Fire Style: Great Dragon Fire Technique!"
"Hidden Shadow Snake Hands!"
"Phoenix Fire Jutsu!"
"Hidden Shadow Snake Hands!"
"Water Style: Water Dragon Bullet!"
"Hidden Shadow Snake Hands!"
The jutsu thundered through the air in rhythm. A clash of elements, each more volatile than the last. Tatsuya's gaze narrowed as his senses tingled. The floor cracked beneath his feet. The chamber itself buckled under the weight of the unleashed chakra.
> He's repeating the same technique again and again, Tatsuya noted, irritated. The same snakes… over and over.
A wave of golden chakra threads began gravitating toward him.
Tatsuya's eye twitched.
> No. Not this one again.
His hand moved in a subtle seal as he muttered under his breath, "...Filter it."
> Refuse it. Discard it. That technique holds no tactical value for me.
And like a silent answer to his will, his chakra control responded:
> [Hidden Shadow Snake Hands — Rejected.]
[Bloodline Affinity (Iburi Smoke) — Rejected.]
He felt the unwanted knowledge flicker briefly in his chakra network… then vanish, cleansed before it could embed.
Tatsuya exhaled slowly.
> Finally. No more trash.
In the wake of the explosions, chakra waves pulsed toward him like echoes. His system absorbed and refined their essence, silently parsing what mattered.
> [Chakra assimilation: +200]
[Chakra assimilation: +200]
[Elemental Affinity Gained: +50 Water, +50 Earth]
[Technique Acquired: Fire Style — Dragon Flame Bullet]
[Skill Insight Gained: +1000 | Current Level: 2 (0/1000)]
> S-rank conflict… S-class returns.
Tatsuya remained still, calculating.
> And yet… there are no other sources nearby. No supporting shinobi, no bodyguards, no sound-nin. This base is empty.
He glanced deeper into the smoke-shrouded corridor that led out of the underground facility.
> Orochimaru pulled his forces ahead of time. Smart. He never intended to win this fight. This is a decoy…
A chill traced Tatsuya's spine—not fear, but clarity. Orochimaru was buying time. Whatever the experiment had been, it was already complete or moved.
> Which means the real threat is elsewhere.
He turned back toward the fight.
Orochimaru's face was contorted now—not with anger, but effort. Hiruzen's strikes, supported by the two elite Anbu, had begun to drive him back.
"So this is what it takes to corner a snake," Tatsuya murmured.
Then—
Orochimaru stopped moving.
With deliberate slowness, he reached into his sleeve and withdrew a scroll.
Sarutobi's eyes narrowed. "What is that…"
Tatsuya's pupils dilated.
> That's not summoning. It's a seal.
Orochimaru bit his thumb, smeared the blood, and triggered the scroll.
Boom!
A flash of chakra burst outward—sharp, violent, and unnatural.
Sound.
But not the kind any shinobi would call music.
Two distinct sonic frequencies erupted at once—one piercing like a kunai, the other low and concussive like a war drum.
"—ghh!"
The Third Hokage stumbled back, blood spraying from his mouth.
"Tch—!"
Enma grunted in pain, clutching his ears, his form wavering. Sarutobi's son and the younger Anbu, caught unprepared, were thrown off their feet like leaves in a gale.
Tatsuya winced as the frequencies split through his skull, but he'd already activated a minor Chakra Flow Disruption seal to lessen the effect.
> Sonic-based ninjutsu… this is a prototype, he assessed. And it works.
In the center of the ruined field, Orochimaru stood tall.
"This," he hissed, voice smooth and venomous, "is a farewell gift, Sarutobi-sensei. I call it Twin Pulse Dirge."
He licked the blood off his lips.
"A requiem, just for you."
Sarutobi's body trembled. Still on one knee, he met his former student's eyes but said nothing.
Orochimaru turned.
"Pity. It seems a little rat escaped—"
Whsssh.
A flash of white light split the air behind him.
"Ghhk!"
Steel tore through flesh.
Orochimaru jerked violently, his body twisting as a gleaming tri-pronged kunai burst from his back. Blood sprayed across the stone floor in jagged arcs.
Boom!
He was thrown forward—not from an explosion, but from raw displacement.
"Wh-what…"
Orochimaru's golden eyes turned, wild.
Behind him stood a masked shinobi in a white coat—calm, precise, and deadly.
Tatsuya.
No words. Just a slight tilt of the head, and the glint of another kunai between his fingers.
> You never saw me mark the stones behind you. And now you bleed.
Orochimaru's mind, normally lightning-quick, stuttered.
"That… technique…"
Flying Thunder God.
The battlefield shifted again as smoke bombs burst, obscuring the area in thick fog. Orochimaru stumbled, chakra flaring in retreat.
He vanished.
> A snake always has a burrow.
The field fell silent.
Sarutobi wiped the blood from his lips. "Tatsu—"
His voice caught.
Tatsuya stood calmly amid the chaos, white coat untouched by the dust, tri-pronged kunai still humming faintly in his grasp. He turned toward the fallen ANBU—checked their condition, then looked back at Sarutobi.
"I will bring Orochimaru back."
His voice was low. Controlled. Firm.
"He hurt Konoha-nin. I won't let that go unanswered."
Sarutobi rose to his feet. His old eyes stared hard at the young shinobi before him.
The Flying Thunder God. An impossible jutsu. A forbidden legacy. Minato's brilliance reborn in a new form.
But there it was.
Right in front of him.
A glimpse of the future that could be.
He nodded slowly. "Tatsuya… Capture him if you can. But no matter what happens—your life takes precedence."
Tatsuya met his gaze.
And vanished.
A soft pulse of displaced chakra hung in the air like a ghost.
---