It seemed that ever since their last conversation, Orochimaru no longer viewed the boy before him as just another brat.
That much could be inferred simply from the tone of his voice.
Of course, that didn't mean Orochimaru saw Hakken Yoru as his equal.
He wasn't worthy of that—at least, not yet.
At this moment, in Orochimaru's eyes, Hakken was merely a youth with extraordinary swordsmanship, cloaked in an air of mystery.
"You've been following me for quite some time. Aren't you tired?"
Hakken yawned and leaned casually against a nearby tree.
No one could escape his perception.
His awareness came from fluctuations in spiritual pressure—a force entirely different from a ninja's aura or chakra.
After all, he was a Shinigami.
He had sensed Orochimaru's spiritual pressure the moment he'd left the hot springs.
"As expected of you, Hakken-kun."
Orochimaru lowered the sack slung over his shoulder, eyes flashing briefly with astonishment before returning to their usual calm, filled with faint admiration.
If Hakken had detected him earlier, Orochimaru might've chalked it up to carelessness—he hadn't bothered to fully suppress his presence.
But now was different.
He was working.
He was searching for suitable specimens to complete the final stages of his Living Corpse Reincarnation experiments.
Once he entered work mode, he could become a cold-blooded serpent, slipping past any form of detection.
That was how he survived.
His chakra, his aura—everything was perfectly concealed.
After all, this was Konoha.
His former teacher was still formidable, the Sensory Division was far from useless, and with the recent increase in his need for experimental subjects, even Orochimaru had to move with extreme caution.
Yet despite all that, the boy before him had still managed to find him.
Just an ordinary brat.
Why?
How could he keep exceeding his expectations again and again?
To his knowledge, only those of the Uzumaki Clan possessed such sensory prowess—the legendary Mind's Eye of the Kagura.
A fabled sensory ability long thought extinct along with the clan that wielded it.
And this boy—with his jet-black hair—clearly wasn't an Uzumaki survivor.
Orochimaru knew his records well. His lineage held no remarkable shinobi, nothing of note.
"Hmph… Hakken-kun, you'd do well to keep your sharp edges hidden. It'll serve your growth."
Shaking his head slightly, Orochimaru seemed to recall the reason he'd revealed himself tonight.
"Someone's already taken notice of you."
His tone dropped lower, carrying a rare hint of warning.
That surprised Hakken.
A man like Orochimaru wasn't the type to warn others out of goodwill.
And yet—he had.
It didn't fit his nature.
"Don't misunderstand me, Hakken-kun."
Seeing the confusion flicker across the boy's eyes, Orochimaru's lips curved into a faint smile—his gaze turning cold and serpentine.
"I've been observing someone for quite some time—someone suitable."
"That person is your friend, Itachi Uchiha."
"But your arrival disrupted my plans. It seems I've found someone even more fitting than Itachi. The only flaw... is that your eyes don't belong to the Uchiha."
"Still, ever since you entered my sight, the potential you've shown—so far beyond normal—has fascinated me."
"Between you and Itachi, I can't decide which is the better choice."
"So until I figure that out, I don't want my vessel to encounter any... complications."
"Itachi has the Uchiha clan behind him. You, however, have no one."
"So, be careful. Konoha is far darker than it appears."
A kind warning—from Orochimaru?
The way he said it was certainly blunt.
In simpler terms: I've taken an interest in you. But I'm still observing whether you're worthy. Until I decide, don't die on me.
Hakken chuckled.
He understood.
It seemed his presence had drawn quite a bit of Orochimaru's attention away from Itachi.
There was even a faint sense of possessiveness—like someone raising a vessel.
It was just like what he'd later do with Sasuke after defecting from Konoha.
A vessel of his own, one he didn't want anyone else touching.
Why him?
Because of his repeated displays of abnormal power?
What a shame.
Orochimaru's little plan had already gone astray.
With an amused smile, Hakken clasped his hands together in mock politeness. "Then I really should thank you. But whether it's the Third Hokage or Danzō who's taken notice of me, it doesn't concern me much."
"As for you—Konoha's night patrol is less than a hundred meters away. Are you sure carrying that around won't raise suspicion?"
He gestured toward the distance, already having sensed the patrol's spiritual pressure approaching.
The patrol, huh?
Yes, it should be about that time.
Orochimaru, ever familiar with Konoha's defense schedule, nodded slightly. His eyes gleamed with even stronger curiosity. "Hakken-kun, would you indulge me? How exactly do you perceive things like that?"
A perception beyond comprehension.
Even without leaking chakra or aura, the boy could still detect the faintest stir in the air.
Byakugan?
No. His eyes were clearly dark.
The Uzumaki clan, then?
Also no.
Then what was it?
That body of Hakken's—it stirred a deep desire within Orochimaru.
An unrelenting hunger for knowledge.
"Apologies," Hakken said, lifting his gourd and taking a heavy swig. "This kind of power... you wouldn't understand."
He shot Orochimaru a teasing, almost taunting look before leaping away, vanishing from the training grounds.
Moments later, the patrol team arrived right on schedule.
Once they passed, Orochimaru stepped out from behind the tree where he'd been hiding.
A crazed smile spread across his face.
"There is no power in this world beyond my understanding."
"I am Orochimaru, after all."
"Hakken-kun… you're far more worthy of study than Itachi."