The shinobi world—Otogakure.
Deep beneath the village's central district was a laboratory that reeked of damp stone and disinfectant—cold, silent, and ominous, like a tomb hollowed into the earth.
Kabuto Yakushi stood under the harsh lights with a scroll in hand, his tone careful as always.
"Orochimaru-sama… the improvements to Edo Tensei are almost complete."
He unrolled the experiment log a little, glancing down the lines as if reading them could keep his voice steady.
"The purity has been refined to about eighty percent."
Orochimaru's lips curled into a thin, serpentine smile.
"Good."
His yellow eyes slid forward—to the pale corpse laid out on the operating table.
A White Zetsu body.
"Then we'll set that aside for now," Orochimaru said, voice smooth and cold. "Let's dissect this first."
"Understood."
A glint of excitement flashed behind Kabuto's glasses. He picked up several surgical blades and moved toward the corpse with practiced ease.
As he walked, Orochimaru's expression darkened—something between fascination and discomfort.
"So even Ryūchi Cave's White Snake Sage…" he murmured. "Even that thing… submitted to the Fifth Hokage."
He let out a slow breath, as if the words scraped his throat.
"And it seems Manda is dead. I'll need a new summon."
The more Orochimaru thought about it, the tighter his scalp felt—as if invisible needles were pressing into the skin.
He knew Ryūchi Cave. He knew what stood at the top of that food chain.
And yet Uchiha Ren had forced it to bow.
That wasn't simply "strong."
That was unreasonable.
"Ryūchi Cave… has submitted?" Kabuto paused mid-step, the blade hovering in his fingers.
He'd been buried in experiments for days. He hadn't kept up with the outside world.
But hearing that—he felt the situation outside wasn't just worsening.
It was collapsing.
Before either of them could say more—
Whrrr…
A spiral distortion tore through the air.
Space folded like cloth being twisted, and two figures stepped out as if the laboratory belonged to them.
The masked man—Uchiha Obito.
And beside him…
A man wearing a black, tight combat suit beneath layered crimson armor.
The moment Orochimaru saw that face—
his smile vanished.
His pupils narrowed.
His entire body locked.
He didn't even realize his chakra had surged until it spilled into the room like a reflexive hiss.
Kabuto frowned.
"Orochimaru-sama?"
He turned—
and the second his eyes landed on the armored man—
Boom.
It felt like someone struck his skull with a hammer.
His thoughts scattered.
His breath caught.
For a heartbeat, his mind went completely empty.
Madara.
A name that didn't belong to the present.
A name that shouldn't be standing here—alive.
Orochimaru forced air into his lungs, fighting down the instinct to retreat.
His throat moved once, hard.
"Uchiha… Madara."
His voice came out quieter than he intended.
Then, with a mix of shock and disbelief that he couldn't fully hide, he asked the only question that mattered:
"How are you alive?"
Orochimaru had studied history. He'd traced legends until they became patterns.
He'd stood at the Valley of the End and stared at Madara's statue—like everyone else—half mocking, half admiring.
But seeing the real thing…
was different.
Madara didn't answer.
He simply looked at Orochimaru, calm and indifferent, as though he were examining a tool on a shelf.
"You're Orochimaru?"
"…Yes."
Orochimaru nodded stiffly.
Madara's Rinnegan fixed onto him—cold, heavy, absolute.
"How far have you taken Edo Tensei?"
The tone wasn't curiosity.
It was a command wrapped in a question.
Orochimaru's annoyance flared for an instant—then died just as quickly.
He had pride. He had ego.
But he also had survival instincts.
"…It's nearly finished," he said, choosing each word carefully. "At this stage, those revived can retain about eighty percent of their original strength."
"Not enough."
Madara clasped his hands behind his back.
His voice didn't rise. It didn't need to.
"Continue optimizing it. I want ninety-five percent, at minimum."
Orochimaru's eyes widened.
For a second he genuinely thought he'd misheard.
"Ninety-five…? That's—"
He couldn't stop himself. The irritation broke through.
"Orochimaru isn't a miracle worker. Edo Tensei isn't that simple. Eighty percent is already near the limit."
His tone sharpened further despite himself.
"If you insist on something impossible, then we don't need to—"
He didn't finish.
Because Madara's Rinnegan shifted—barely.
And the world changed.
BOOM—
A crushing ocular pressure slammed down like a mountain.
Orochimaru's face went pale in an instant.
His body stiffened, as if the bones inside him had been pinned in place.
Even his soul seemed to tremble, trapped under something vast and merciless.
This wasn't "killing intent."
This was a presence that made resistance feel meaningless.
Kabuto couldn't move either. He could only stare, frozen, lungs tightening.
Orochimaru forced the words out through clenched teeth.
"…Fine."
"I'll do it."
Madara's gaze didn't soften.
"Too weak."
He spoke like a judge delivering a verdict.
"Your soul is fragile. Against a true genjutsu user, you'd be erased in an instant."
Obito stepped in smoothly, voice low.
"Madara-sama… Orochimaru's soul is damaged because of the forbidden technique—Living Corpse Reincarnation."
Madara's eyes remained unchanged, but his voice turned almost casual.
"Do your job properly, and I'll give you what you want."
He paused.
"Eternal life."
Orochimaru's throat tightened.
Those two words—his lifelong obsession—hit harder than any threat.
Then—
Whrrr…
Space wraped again.
The spiral distortion swallowed Madara and Obito whole, and the laboratory snapped back into silence as if nothing had happened.
A beat passed.
Then Kabuto's knees gave out.
He hit the floor with a dull thud, gasping, gulping air like a drowning man.
Orochimaru didn't fall.
But he wasn't far from it.
His body remained stiff, his breath shallow, sweat pouring down his forehead until it soaked his skin—like he'd been dragged out of water.
In the lab's harsh white light, his eyes were darker than before.
Not fear.
Not anger.
Something worse:
obsession, sharpened by humiliation.
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