"Then you should have listened to me from the start and sent someone to kill Orochimaru!"
The senior officials of Iwagakure leapt to their feet, eyes flashing with accusation as they glared at one another. Each of them was thinking the same thing: if only we had acted sooner. Now, regret settled over the council chamber like a suffocating fog.
Even if Orochimaru had merely served as a scapegoat, ending his life would have been better than allowing him to continue strengthening Konoha. His existence threatened the delicate balance of power across the entire shinobi world.
"Silence."
The deep, gravelly voice of the Third Tsuchikage, Ōnoki, cut through the rising tension. The officials, caught mid-argument, sat back down reluctantly.
"Sending assassins is not a task to be rushed," Ōnoki continued, narrowing his eyes. "And we are certainly not the only village considering the removal of Orochimaru."
Before him lay a thick folder of intelligence reports—every page highlighting the same troubling reality. Though still young, Orochimaru's genius was undeniable. The experiments he conducted and the inventions he developed for Konoha were already changing the entire shinobi world.
If he was allowed to continue unchecked, Konoha would soon grow into a monstrous power. Its location was ideal—fertile lands, abundant natural resources, and now a prodigy scientist whose brilliance eclipsed most Kage. History showed how swiftly Konoha had risen since the First Shinobi World War. What heights could it reach with Orochimaru's research accelerating its growth?
Something had to be done.
But would Konoha tolerate an assassination attempt on someone so valuable? Ōnoki knew the answer all too well: if Orochimaru were killed, the Leaf would treat it as an act of war. That could easily ignite another great conflict.
Perhaps that was why the other major villages had all hesitated. None could afford to spark a Second Shinobi World War while still recovering from the first.
Yet across the continent, every hidden village—large or small—watched Orochimaru closely. His latest creation, the rumored "rebirth pill," had sent tremors through the political landscape. Few fully understood its purpose, but all feared the advantage it might grant Konoha.
Unaware of the storm his work had stirred, Orochimaru went about his life inside Konoha as usual, never realizing how many powerful figures longed for his death.
---
The Rainy Night
The sky wept heavily that evening, rain drumming on rooftops and soaking the quiet streets.
Orochimaru walked home beneath a black umbrella, grocery bags dangling casually from one pale hand. Puddles splashed softly beneath his sandals. He looked every bit the harmless villager, but his golden eyes were sharp and alert.
Two on the left… three on the right… three more trailing behind… and one ahead. Their captain, perhaps?
He sensed them easily. These were not ANBU or Root operatives; their chakra signatures and movement patterns were foreign. Assassins from another village, without a doubt.
So they've finally come for me. Interesting.
A faint smile touched his lips. The fact that they had slipped past Konoha's barrier team so effortlessly was almost impressive.
Will they attack now, or wait until I reach a quieter street?
As if on cue, the narrow lane grew more deserted. The perfect place for an ambush.
---
The Ambush
A sharp buzz of chakra preceded the strike.
Orochimaru sprang lightly into a puddle, water splashing high. Blades flashed in the rain—one katana plunged toward his chest, a kunai slashed at his back, another blade sliced toward his throat. His umbrella flew from his hand, spinning away on the wind.
For an instant, the assassins thought they had succeeded. But something felt wrong.
The figure they'd skewered dissolved into ripples of water.
"Genjutsu?" one hissed, eyes wide.
They broke the illusion—only to find that the "Orochimaru" they had killed was in fact one of their own comrades. Panic flickered across their faces.
"Well done," a smooth voice drawled, echoing off the rain-slick stones. "Such ruthlessness toward your own allies. I'm impressed."
From the sheen of a rain puddle, Orochimaru's image emerged like a specter, clapping slowly.
"A Water Clone?!" another assassin spat, cursing under his breath.
They didn't pause to mourn their fallen teammate. Their mission was too important. Someone hurled a smoke bomb; another kunai, wrapped with explosive tags, cut through the air.
The kunai pierced the clone, detonating in a violent blast of steam and mist. Lightning cracked suddenly within the haze.
"Lightning Release: Five-Finger Thunderbolt!"
The words came almost lazily, but the effect was instant. Electric currents shot through the rain-soaked ground, arcing from puddle to puddle. The assassins convulsed, their bodies shuddering as lightning coursed through them.
"No hand seals?!" one of the hidden shinobi gasped, realizing too late that Orochimaru had cast a high-level Lightning jutsu without forming a single sign.
Desperate, an assassin lunged from the shadows, driving a katana toward Orochimaru's back. But once again, the blade sliced only water. Another clone.
"You really chose the wrong day to hunt a Water Release specialist," Orochimaru said almost kindly. His true form materialized behind them, one hand glowing with crackling energy. "Unfortunately for you, I'm also proficient in Lightning Release."
The trapped assassin knew he was doomed. With a defiant snarl, he ripped his clothing open to reveal his torso wrapped in explosive tags.
"Then die with me!"
The ensuing blast was deafening. Flames roared skyward, mingling with the storm as thick smoke blanketed the alley.
---
Aftermath
When the smoke cleared, Orochimaru stepped calmly from behind a tree, groceries still in one hand. His clones had fought in his stead the entire time.
He crouched beside a charred body, lips tightening. He had hoped to keep one assassin alive for questioning, but the enemy had preferred death to capture. Clearly, they were well-trained and utterly committed.
Of course they were. Any village daring to strike at him would accept no less. If Konoha learned which hidden village had sent them, the consequences would be severe.
The ANBU would retaliate without hesitation.
"Lord Orochimaru!"
A young shinobi named Chiriu appeared at the end of the street, eyes widening at the destruction. His clan owed everything to Orochimaru; gratitude and loyalty burned hot in his chest. Seeing the carnage, his fists clenched and his entire body trembled with fury.
"Was this an assassination attempt?!" he demanded.
"Calm yourself," Orochimaru replied evenly. "It's over. Anger will achieve nothing. They all chose death by explosive tags—no one survived to question."
Moments later, masked ANBU operatives arrived, scanning the scene silently. Their captain's voice was grave. "Someone clearly wants you dead, Lord Orochimaru."
Chiriu glared at the ANBU. "Isn't it obvious? How could you even ask?"
---
Council Confrontation
Later that night, in the Hokage's council chamber, Orochimaru faced his former teacher.
"Master Hiruzen," he said coolly, "why did Konoha's barrier fail to detect these assassins?"
"They entered the village through legal channels," Hiruzen Sarutobi admitted after a long pull on his pipe. "They have lived here for some time. That is why the barrier never reacted."
That explained it.
"Orochimaru," Homura Mitokado said gently, "there will be more attempts. Please allow us to strengthen your protection."
Danzo Shimura leaned forward. "You should stay near Lady Mito. Her sensory abilities can detect malice instantly—no assassin could approach you."
"No," Orochimaru answered at once. "I will not trouble Grandma Mito with this. The enemy's goal is simple: to halt Konoha's progress. They believe my presence accelerates our village's growth. But if I continue to draw assassins, is that not a way to weaken our enemies instead?"
The elders exchanged uneasy glances as Orochimaru went on, his tone almost playful.
"Think about it. Training a true assassin requires years of effort and considerable expense. If they keep sending killers and I keep surviving, their strength diminishes while ours remains intact. In that sense, I welcome their attempts."
The room fell silent. His logic was unnerving—and disturbingly convincing.
Hiruzen slammed his palm on the table. "Too dangerous! If anything happens to you, how would I explain it to Lady Mito—or to the clans who depend on your research?"
"Your objection," Orochimaru said softly, "is invalid." His golden eyes swept across Danzo, Koharu, and Homura before settling on his teacher. "The Flying Thunder God Technique is space–time ninjutsu. You cannot restrict my movements."
No one could argue with that. Even scolding him would be pointless. Orochimaru would act as he pleased.
In the end, the council could only tighten village security, assigning ANBU and Root operatives to patrol Konoha more rigorously and warning every major clan to stay alert. Anyone who tried to assassinate Orochimaru again would face immediate capture—or death.
But deep down, each of them knew the truth: a mind like Orochimaru's could never be truly protected. He was baiting the entire shinobi world, and sooner or later, someone would take that bait again.
---
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