At these words, Orochimaru's pupils shrank sharply. His tongue instinctively licked across his lips, a flicker of excitement surfacing in his expression.
"So… your target is Akatsuki?"
"Hmph. Just a mere commoner, and yet he dares proclaim himself supreme—utterly disregarding the Five Great Nations, disregarding even the authority of the daimyō. He deserves death!" the Great General of the Land of Lightning growled coldly.
A single shinobi, daring to believe he could stand above and suppress the entire shinobi world?
What of the daimyō? What of the nobles of each nation?
Such arrogance was an offense against one's betters—an unforgivable blasphemy.
But as his words resounded, the young man at the center merely cast him a single indifferent glance.
Nothing more. No words at all.
And yet that one look was enough to reduce the mighty, overbearing general into silence, like an eggplant struck by frost—wilted, subdued, no longer daring to speak.
"…Then, you sought me out in order to extract intelligence about Akatsuki from me?" Orochimaru pressed, this time fixing his golden eyes on the youth. There was something about that face… a nagging familiarity, though he could not recall where he had seen it.
The youth shook his head.
"We don't need such things. They're nothing more than a handful of runaway children branded S-class missing-nin."
"If they wish to play, then let them play."
To the youth, the entire Akatsuki organization was nothing more than a group of little kids—no, not even graduates yet.
"Then if not for information, why go through such trouble to 'invite' me here?" Orochimaru asked, faint suspicion stirring. If not for what he knew about Akatsuki… surely it couldn't be for him alone?
At this, the youth's lips curved into a smile—handsome, dangerous, carrying with it a strange magnetism. Even Orochimaru, of all people, felt a faint, inexplicable pull of goodwill toward him.
"What we seek… is your talent."
"I've heard much about you, Orochimaru—the most gifted, the most brilliant shinobi of this world."
"A pity, though—you possess no kekkei genkai, not even the ability to master Sage Arts."
"And yet, despite that, you carved your own path. Cursed seals, forbidden arts, esoteric techniques… there is no jutsu you cannot master, only those you have not yet seen."
"Isn't that so?"
"Heh…" A strange gleam flickered in Orochimaru's eyes, and for once his voice carried a rare note of respect. Once upon a time, such respect had been reserved for only one man—his former teacher, the Third Hokage.
"You seem to know me quite well, my lord."
The youth did not answer. Instead, he continued, his words flowing like a snare.
"You long to conduct human experiments, do you not?"
"You long to unlock the mysteries of the human body, to unravel the true principles of chakra, to pursue the very roots of this world, do you not?"
"Work with us, and you will have an endless supply of test subjects."
"You'll never again need to hide in the shadows, skulking in secrecy. You'll walk proudly beneath the sun, without restraint."
"Here, you'll have access to the finest minds of every nation, the strongest shinobi as your assistants. You may pursue anything you desire."
"Well then? Join us."
At the mention of human experimentation, Orochimaru's pupils contracted once more. Those words were the deepest taboo of the shinobi world—topics others would only whisper, if at all.
And yet this youth spoke them aloud, unabashed.
Even more startling, none of the assembled leaders around them voiced the slightest objection.
The youth fell silent then, merely waiting for Orochimaru's answer.
And Orochimaru, too, fell silent. In truth, the conditions he had just heard… stirred his heart.
It was then that a scar-faced, white-haired shinobi spoke up.
"Orochimaru, this isn't just the four great villages. If needed, the military might of every major nation is at your disposal."
Perhaps sensing this still wasn't enough persuasion, he added:
"Even the Land of Iron has joined us."
"The Land of Iron… the so-called neutral nation?" Orochimaru murmured. If so, then every great power across the continent stood united here.
To oppose them would be no different from opposing the entire shinobi world itself.
After a pause, Orochimaru gave his answer.
"…I'll join you."
"Welcome."
"You won't be disappointed."
"Orochimaru—it's been a long time."
The voice came from behind him, achingly familiar. Orochimaru didn't need to turn to know who it was.
"So, even you are here… Hiruko."
Indeed—it was Hiruko, the very same whose voice had earlier lauded Orochimaru's brilliance. They had not crossed paths in over a year.
"You've already attained your so-called 'completed form,' haven't you? I'm surprised that someone like you would still serve these so-called nobles." Orochimaru's eyes narrowed, curious. From what he knew of Hiruko, the man should have been pursuing a life of unrestrained freedom, beholden to none.
"With such power, there should be nothing—no one—that could stop you."
"Haha… Since the day you left, Orochimaru, I encountered the people of the Company. I once believed myself complete, invincible, but it was only then that I realized how small I truly was."
"When a man confines himself to his own tiny world, he sees only what is before his eyes. He forgets the truth—that beyond every man, there is another stronger still, and beyond every sky, yet another higher."
Rather than answering directly, Hiruko spoke these words instead.
"Oh? The Company?" Orochimaru's lips twisted with interest. "You mean the famous Shipping Company? I once had the chance to meet its president, Hattori. If he could earn even your submission, then it seems he must be quite extraordinary indeed."
"It's not a matter of strength or weakness!" Hiruko insisted. "It's… something rare. Something utterly unique. I cannot put it into words."
He struggled for a long while, then sighed, abandoning the attempt.
"No matter how I describe him, it won't compare to seeing him with your own eyes."
"Perhaps," Orochimaru said lightly, "if there is an opportunity, I'd like to meet him myself."
"You will. You most certainly will. If you wish to see him, you will." Hiruko's eyes gleamed as he added, "For the Company's people… are everywhere."
"Perhaps even standing right beside us."
Within another chamber of the fortress, equally fortified and sealed.
"Asuma… you've disappointed me."
The young man seated in the center spoke coldly, his eyes fixed upon Sarutobi Asuma, the former Leaf jōnin.
Asuma's broad, bearded face flushed crimson at the rebuke.
"…Forgive me. I've let you down."
"I expect no repetition of this failure." The youth's tone sharpened. "There is no such word as failure in my dictionary."
"Do not forget—you are one of my Twelve. A crucial piece in my reclaiming the seat of daimyō."
At this, Asuma's face lit up with fervor, his voice full of zeal.
"I swear upon my life to support you, my lord. You will be the next daimyō of the Land of Fire. And those who usurped the titles of Hokage and Daimyō shall pay dearly for it!"
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