Lock, who had already escaped with the Blinking Dagger, had no idea that the Fourth Raikage had placed him on the same level as Orochimaru.
Even after teleporting a full kilometer away, he didn't dare relax. He pushed his body to its limits, running at top speed before slowly slipping into invisibility.
Only after several successive jumps with the Blinking Dagger, leaving the Land of Hot Water behind and crossing into the Land of Fire's border, did Lock finally let himself breathe.
"Hiss…"
The moment he relaxed, agony lanced through his arm. He had been so focused on surviving that he'd ignored the injury. Now, the pain roared back tenfold.
His arm was bent at an unnatural angle—crushed by the Raikage's brute force. In the modern world, that arm would've been amputated. But this was the shinobi world. There was still hope for recovery. Even so, he knew it would take months before he fully healed.
Crossing into the Fire Country brought him some comfort. Yunyin might be arrogant, but Konoha had reinforced its borders. They wouldn't dare press further.
The rest of the journey went without incident. Lock eventually encountered a Konoha patrol. After confirming his identity, they escorted him to the border outpost where Orochimaru commanded.
"Tsk tsk, not bad, Fujiwara-kun. To be discovered and still return alive…"
Orochimaru greeted him with a smile, voice smooth but carrying that unsettling weight. He had received Lock's message the day before, but even with invisibility, surviving the pursuit of countless Cloud shinobi was far from guaranteed.
Lock gave a wry smile. "Pure luck. I was badly injured. I nearly died out there."
Orochimaru's gaze flicked to his arm. "Snapped clean through by raw power. Who did this?"
"The Fourth Raikage—son of the Third. His strength is overwhelming, his speed terrifying. I've never faced anyone like him. His defense was… monstrous. I couldn't touch him. If not for my skills, I'd be dead."
Orochimaru's eyes narrowed knowingly. "The Raikage clan's Lightning Release techniques. Each generation hones its body and speed into weapons. Few shinobi can match their power. You were fortunate to escape."
He recalled tales of the Third Raikage during the Second Shinobi War—an unstoppable force on the battlefield. His son clearly inherited that might.
"Originally, you'd found their camp. If your cover hadn't been blown, we could have struck decisively. A pity…"
The faint sigh cut sharper than any scolding. Lock felt the chill in his gut. Orochimaru's tone wasn't angry, but it carried disappointment.
"Lord Orochimaru, this failure is on me. I couldn't complete the mission fully."
Orochimaru studied him for a moment before replying. "Not a complete failure. You gathered intelligence. But since the objective wasn't achieved, I'll record it as an A-rank mission, not S-rank."
A drop in rank—from S to A. Just a single step on paper, but the difference in reward was vast. Lock suppressed his frustration. He had nearly died. Any other jōnin would have been lost. Yet he could only bow his head.
"Yes, Lord Orochimaru."
He also chose not to mention the Cloud ninja he'd killed—including the two sensory specialists. With Jiraiya, he might have spoken freely. But with Orochimaru, caution was better. His instincts told him that too much attention from this man was dangerous.
"This mission stirred the hornet's nest. Yunyin will lie low for now. You're badly injured, and medical support here is lacking. You'll return to the village for treatment."
"…Yes."
The order caught him off guard. He had only just arrived at the border. To be sent back so quickly felt… wrong. He had wanted to sharpen his strength further, to grow through battle and experience. But Orochimaru's word was law. He could only obey.
As Lock left, Orochimaru's tongue slid across his lips, his golden eyes narrowing with an ominous gleam.
"This boy is far too cautious. Did Jiraiya whisper something in his ear?"
He chuckled darkly. "No matter. I had an interest in him once. But others seem even more interested. The price they've offered is… satisfactory. Fujiwara-kun, I do hope you make it back to the village alive. Heh…"
His snake-like smile sent shivers through the room.
Lock, unaware of Orochimaru's mutterings, walked away with a bitter taste in his mouth. Nothing about this mission sat right with him. From being chosen in the first place, to Orochimaru's shifting behavior, to this abrupt dismissal—it was all too strange.
Sure enough, when compared to Orochimaru, he felt far more at ease around Jiraiya. The older man was straightforward, even clumsy, but genuine. Orochimaru, on the other hand… his gaze was sharp, predatory. Uncomfortable. Dangerous.
Once, Lock had admired him. The Sannin's rise from orphan to legend was something worth respecting. And he knew that Orochimaru would survive the coming decades, weaving through history until the very end, always lurking, always contributing in his own twisted way.
Such a man was worthy of admiration. But admiration was different from trust.
And Lock's instinct told him one thing clearly now: with Orochimaru, vigilance was survival.
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