The wind howled, slamming snow against the stone walls like it was crying.
Orochimaru's laugh slithered through the air, icy and silky: "Heh heh… well aren't you rare guests, Shisui-kun."
When he spoke, his tongue barely flicked across his lower lip; soft, sticky, cold—like a snake's tongue brushing skin. The tail of every word dragged forever.
Itachi and Shisui instantly glanced at each other (silent question mark in mid-air), then perfectly in sync turned to Makoto Uchiha.
Your turn, boss.
Orochimaru's golden slit pupils lazily swept over the trio before locking onto Makoto.
Those pupils narrowed, amusement rippling through them. He noticed it right away: Shisui and Itachi, two of the clan's biggest prodigies, were subtly positioned with this snot-nosed brat as the center.
Interesting.
He'd never met the kid, but he'd seen the portrait in Danzō's files: the little punk who graffiti'd the Hokage Rock half a year ago and nearly started a civil war.
Even Danzō had been pissed for months. Definitely a fearless one.
A new toy just walked in.
"And what brings you here?" Orochimaru drawled, voice trailing like snake tracks in frost. Creepy as hell.
Makoto met those golden eyes dead-on, zero flinch.
He knew exactly who he was dealing with: 108 S-rank missions, 491 A-rank. Living legend.
Guy had killed enough people to build mountains and fill rivers.
Makoto took a deep breath, smile vanishing, face going full serious-mode, eyes burning.
Itachi and Shisui were great at fighting, trash at negotiating. This had to be him.
"Orochimaru," he said flat-out, no honorific, straight-up rude in the ninja world.
But if he wanted to make money standing up, he had to act like an equal. Otherwise this snake would bleed him dry. Smart bastard.
At this point in the timeline, Orochimaru hadn't learned immortality yet; his genjutsu resistance was high, but with Shisui and Itachi guarding him? Even if it came to blows, Makoto wasn't sweating.
Uchiha prodigies got protagonist buffs in fights: the longer the battle, the stronger they got. As long as nobody one-shotted them, they could flip the script.
Especially Shisui. Makoto remembered the official databook calling his visual prowess talent higher than Itachi's.
And the guy was famous for Body Flicker, not even his eyes. "Shunshin no Shisui" was known all the way to Killer Bee in the Land of Lightning, who hadn't left his valley in years. Name that big? You better be the real deal or you die fast.
Shisui once genjutsu'd a Mist ninja from stupid far away; the guy had Byakugan and still noped out with his whole squad.
Give Shisui a few minutes in a real fight, let Itachi take a scratch or two, boom: Mangekyō unlocked, instant top-tier Kage level. Who's eating who then?
Plus Makoto had been grinding Flying Thunder God for six months. He was fast as hell now.
Orochimaru didn't even blink at the lack of honorific. Kid had roasted Danzō to his face; respect wasn't in his vocabulary.
The snake's long tongue licked his chin, eyes gleaming. He stepped closer, leaving a winding trail in the snow.
"Oh? Something big enough for three Uchiha geniuses to visit personally?"
Tail end of the sentence rose with open mockery. Three half-grown brats? Please.
Shisui opened his mouth; Makoto shut him down with a look. Great hitter, terrible negotiator. Dude would spill all their secrets in ten seconds.
Makoto stepped forward, snow crunching. Black eyes locked on gold. No fear.
"We came to pledge ourselves to you. We're gonna make you the Fifth Hokage."
The wind died.
Snowflakes froze mid-air. A tiny snake in the stone crack stopped flicking its tongue. Even the icicles forgot to drip.
Orochimaru's smile froze, just for a split second, so fast you'd think you imagined it.
Then he laughed, sharp as broken glass on metal.
"Heh heh… that's rich. Absolutely delicious."
He looked Makoto up and down like a brand-new lab rat.
"A little kid wants to make me Hokage? Do you even hear yourself?"
He didn't care that much about the hat anymore. After watching everyone close to him die, he'd woken up to how fragile life was.
Now he wanted every jutsu in the world, the truth behind everything. But humans don't live long enough, so immortality became the obsession.
Makoto didn't blink. Voice steady as steel.
"With the full backing of the Uchiha clan, plus your reputation, experience, strength, and loyal subordinates; becoming Fifth Hokage is 100% doable."
Orochimaru chuckled, mockery thick. "And you speak for the Uchiha? Or do these two?"
Out in the world, you make your own name. Makoto's face hardened. Every word hit like a hammer.
"Right now? I don't speak for the clan. But the three of us in the future? We will."
Orochimaru actually looked thoughtful. Time to paint the pie.
"'Shunshin no Shisui,'" Makoto gestured to his side. "Right now he's a hair weaker than you, but his age is his biggest asset: unlimited potential. Give it a few years; Kage-level is guaranteed, and one of the strongest at that."
Shisui's throat bobbed. Sounded exaggerated, but basically true.
"Uchiha Itachi," finger swung to the younger boy. Itachi's lashes trembled; tiny spark of excitement in his eyes because hype incoming.
"Three-tomoe Sharingan before age ten. Already jōnin-level strength. Future Kage-level, no question."
Itachi's eyes flashed with joy for half a second before going calm again.
Finally, Makoto jabbed his own chest, eyes blazing. "And me, Uchiha Makoto. Awakened Sharingan at two and a half. The greatest genius the clan has ever seen. Future clan head; no one else qualifies."
He opened his palm; a snowflake landed and melted instantly.
"Today, the three of us represent the Uchiha clan coming to serve you. Is that sincerity enough?"
"In the ninja world, strength talks. Once we're grown, who's gonna tell you no?"
That last line hit Orochimaru right in his favorite spot.
He had manpower. What he didn't have was freaks of nature with this kind of ceiling, and they were hand-delivering themselves.
Even his creepy heart rippled.
No wonder the Uchiha pumped out monsters. Kage-level was rare anywhere else; this clan produced several in one generation.
Ninja Academy grads at twelve were mostly genin, tons flunked out.
These three? Shisui was already famous. Itachi was jōnin before ten.
And Makoto's talent blew both of them out of the water…
Orochimaru was sold.
He might not care about the Hokage seat right now, but three future Kage-level subordinates? With his background and loyal old crew?
He'd take the hat whenever he felt like it. Not even his teacher Sarutobi could stop him.
Plus, full Uchiha backing meant unlimited research funding. That was a pie he could bite into today.
He gave a small nod. "Very well."
Makoto instantly flashed a grin, tone turning buddy-buddy. "Sweet. Guess we'll be counting on you from now on, boss."
Orochimaru licked his lips on reflex, snake smile back in place.
An icicle chose that moment to drop; plink in the snow, like the universe snapping the tension.
Makoto seized the opening, smile still there, but voice turning sheepish.
"Since I'm technically on your payroll now… I've got a little favor to ask."
Orochimaru assumed it was the Danzō mess, waved it off casually. "Don't worry about Danzō. I'll handle it. He won't bother you again."
Makoto shook his head. "Nah, that old creep's on my to-do list. I'll deal with him myself eventually."
He rubbed his hands together, actually looking embarrassed.
"I was kinda hoping… you could spot me some cash…"