Orochimaru took a slow step forward, closing the distance to Kiyohara.
"You know... biological life itself might not actually have any inherent meaning. Just like rain falling into the vast ocean, the average human lifespan leaves absolutely no trace on reality."
Kiyohara looked up at the pale Sannin, waiting for him to continue.
"But—" Orochimaru's tone shifted, a certain fanatical, hungry light flickering in his slitted golden eyes. "In the process of living, we possess the intellect to discover fascinating anomalies and aggressively pursue the answers we seek. This scientific pursuit itself... is the most charming part of existence."
Orochimaru turned around, walking toward the exit of the tent. He paused at the flap, looking back over his shoulder.
"Kiyohara-kun. Are you interested in seeing some of the... fascinating anomalies I've been researching lately? My laboratory is quite expansive."
"Okay," Kiyohara hesitated for only a fraction of a second before nodding.
Being valued by Orochimaru was a calculated risk, but a highly profitable one. At least before his defection, Orochimaru treated his loyal subordinates exceptionally well and provided them with unparalleled resources.
According to the canon timeline, Orochimaru was currently desperately looking for an intelligent, morally flexible assistant. In the original plot, he would eventually find Kabuto Yakushi to be a perfect fit, bewitching the young spy while he was suffering an identity crisis.
To put it bluntly, no one in Konoha truly understood Orochimaru's intellect. Humans are social animals. Even Tsunade and Jiraiya, who could trust him with their lives on the battlefield, couldn't comprehend his cold, detached obsession with eternal life and genetic truth.
Kiyohara planned to secure a powerful political backer first; it didn't matter if it was Orochimaru or Tsunade. By the time Orochimaru officially defected from the village, Kiyohara would have inherited so many future timelines from the Urn that he wouldn't need a protector anyway.
Orochimaru's temporary frontline laboratory was located in a hidden subterranean cave behind the coastal base, its entrance flawlessly concealed by an advanced sensory barrier and a sealing formula.
Stepping into the damp cave, the sharp, pungent odor of formaldehyde and copper blood immediately assaulted Kiyohara's nose.
Crystals emitting a pale, sterile light were embedded into the cave walls, illuminating the massive interior workspace.
Various high-end precision instruments were meticulously arranged on a massive steel experimental table: microscopes, centrifuges, surgical scalpels, and specialized chakra-recording scrolls. The wooden shelves lining the walls were piled high with anatomical textbooks and encoded notebooks.
But the most eye-catching feature was a row of heavy, transparent glass cylinders along the far wall. They contained various biological tissues and whole specimens floating in a pale yellow preservation fluid.
Some containers held massive rats with extra, mutated limbs grafted onto their spines. Others held giant frogs with their chest cavities pinned open, their exposed hearts still slowly, mechanically beating. There were even bizarre, chimera-like creations stitched together from different apex predators.
Despite being submerged in acid, all the specimens maintained an unsettling, terrifying sense of freshness, as if they might open their eyes and scream at any second.
"These are all failed byproducts," Orochimaru said nonchalantly, walking to the surgical table and snapping on a pair of rubber gloves.
Unsanctioned human experimentation was currently a strict taboo in Konoha. Therefore, Orochimaru was operating within the legal framework, officially testing Suna toxins and Mist biology exclusively on animal subjects.
Kiyohara scanned the area carefully. Everything here was technically legal. Orochimaru had not revealed his underground human prisons yet.
"But even failures can provide invaluable genetic data," Orochimaru noted. "Kiyohara-kun. I recall from your personnel file that you've learned the foundations of Medical Ninjutsu?"
"Basic medical ninjutsu, primarily focused on severe trauma triage and baseline human biology," Kiyohara replied calmly, his gaze sweeping over a two-headed snake specimen.
"Very good."
Orochimaru opened a heavy cold-storage unit. He pulled out a massive, sealed body bag. He unzipped it, revealing the relatively intact corpse of a giant Summoned Beast.
It was a bizarre, amphibious creature summoned by the Hidden Mist during a previous skirmish on the beach.
"Help me dissect it. I need the fast-twitch muscle tissue, the central nerve bundles, and the venom gland samples extracted and preserved separately," Orochimaru ordered, handing Kiyohara a tray of surgical instruments before stepping aside to observe.
Though it was an incredibly strange request for a combat shinobi, Kiyohara didn't hesitate. He took the scalpel and began to work.
His hands were perfectly steady. He accurately sliced along the biological fascia layers to seamlessly separate the tissues, flawlessly avoiding the rupturing of major blood vessels and critical nerve nodes. The basic medical training he received from Rin and Tsunade's scrolls gave him a thorough understanding of mammalian anatomy. Although this Summoned Beast was an evolutionary nightmare, the basic biological principles of flesh and bone were identical.
Orochimaru watched closely, observing Kiyohara's absolute lack of emotional reaction to the extreme gore and the suffocating smell.
'He doesn't flinch. He doesn't show disgust. He doesn't find such clinical dissection taboo,' Orochimaru analyzed.
'He is a flawless candidate for a research assistant.'
ANBU and Root drones only knew how to follow orders blindly; they lacked creative intellect. Civilian geniuses were rigidly constrained by the village's moral framework. And the elite clan geniuses were entirely intoxicated by their family's political vanity. This boy was different.
After Kiyohara finished processing the glands, Orochimaru took a thick, black scroll from his robes and tossed it to him.
"These are my personal, foundational research notes on advanced chakra nature transformation, along with the theoretical formulas for a few highly modified, lethal elemental ninjutsu," Orochimaru said casually. "They aren't my most precious secrets, but they should provide you with some fascinating inspiration."
Kiyohara caught the scroll. He asked with apparent confusion, "Why is Lord Orochimaru giving me classified research?"
"Because I deeply appreciate researchers who possess actual, limitless potential," Orochimaru turned back toward the experimental table, putting his back to Kiyohara.
"Most primates in this world just live in a pathetic daze, repeating the boring, agonizing cycle of birth, aging, sickness, and death without ever asking why," Orochimaru hissed softly. "But there are always a rare few... those who long to violently tear away the veil and see the absolute truth of reality. Kiyohara-kun... I think you are the latter."
Kiyohara stored the scroll securely in his flak jacket. "Thank you for your generous appreciation, Lord Orochimaru."
"Alright. It's getting late. Go back to your barracks for today," Orochimaru dismissed him. "The Hidden Mist's amphibious offensive should begin within the next few days. Rest while you can. Be prepared for mass casualties."
Kiyohara nodded slightly, bowing respectfully before turning to leave the damp laboratory.
If even a high-ranking tactical commander like Orochimaru was explicitly warning him, the Mist invasion was absolutely imminent.
The Mountain Graveyard. Deep underground.
"Lord Madara, the logistical plan is almost entirely set."
A White Zetsu emerged silently from the dark, cavernous floor, grinning widely.
"Is that so," Madara Uchiha slowly opened his single, aged eye.
"The Tailed Beasts have been successfully deployed to the battlefield," the White Zetsu reported in its unique, highly animated tone. "The Three-Tails is under the Hidden Mist's absolute control and can be dispatched across the ocean at any time. The Six-Tails Jinchuriki has also been sent to the coastal front lines."
"Additionally, according to your specific instructions, we've executed several small-scale, false-flag operations at key geographical nodes within the Land of Fire. The Konoha garrison at the border of the Land of Grass has recently encountered frequent, unknown attacks, successfully diverting Konoha's military attention away from the coast."
Madara leaned heavily against the rough, organic pipes of the massive Gedo Statue, absorbing the life-sustaining chakra directly from the husk.
"What about the progress of the Hidden Mist's coastal infiltration?" Madara asked weakly.
"Three secret, subterranean supply points have already been established on the east coast of the Land of Fire, flawlessly disguised as civilian merchant caravans and rogue ninja encampments," Zetsu replied. "Konoha's defensive line is stretched entirely too thin. There are more tactical loopholes than we originally calculated."
Zetsu paused, its tone becoming slightly more serious. "However... the Sannin, Orochimaru, seems to have noticed an anomaly in the patrol patterns. He has significantly increased the patrol frequency of the coastal bases."
"Orochimaru..." Madara whispered the name with utter contempt. The so-called Sannin were completely insignificant insects before him. Only Tsunade, purely because she carried Hashirama's bloodline, could draw a fraction of his attention. But that was all.
"Do we need to dispatch clones to interfere with his logistics?" Zetsu asked.
"No," Madara raised a withered, bone-thin hand. "My ocular power has been flawlessly controlling the Third Mizukage for years. The Hidden Mist chess piece is already securely in place. Next, we just need to wait for the Mist armada to invade the interior of the Land of Fire in absolute force."
Madara slowly pushed himself up, walking to the edge of the subterranean cave. This massive, underground facility was brutally designed to prevent any possibility of escape; it had only narrow, highly restricted ventilation shafts. The only source of illumination was the flickering light of dying torches.
"Wait until the Land of Fire's military forces are completely scattered and exhausted due to fighting multiple fronts," Madara ordered calmly. "Then, use your spies within the Konoha bureaucracy to have Kakashi, Kiyohara, and that little medic girl named Rin—anyone who has had deep emotional contact with Obito—transferred to perform a 'routine' mission near the Land of Grass."
"The time will be precisely set for the end of this month. There will be a sudden, violent border conflict in the Land of Rain, and Konoha will be forced to send them to mediate the disaster."
Madara spoke with absolute authority. If he decreed there would be a conflict, then whole villages would burn to ensure there was one.
Hearing this, White Zetsu tilted its head. "Will Obito really do exactly as we planned? That kid... although he's been through a lot of physical agony here, his core personality is essentially still..."
"Kind?" Madara took over the conversation, a terrifying, mocking sneer twisting his ancient face.
He looked across the cave at the stone bed where Obito Uchiha had fallen into a deep, exhausted sleep after another brutal day of physical rehabilitation.
"It is precisely because of his sickening 'kindness' that the most extreme, apocalyptic hatred erupts when he is plunged into despair," Madara rasped. "I know this specific psychological profile all too well..."
"This tragic curse flows deep within the Uchiha bloodline. The deeper the capacity for love... the more absolute and complete the fall into darkness when that love is violently severed."
Madara turned around, his single, burning Sharingan reflecting in White Zetsu's pale, featureless face.
"The stage has been meticulously set. Now, we just need the actors to arrive and perform a tragedy specifically for Obito."
"He will finally understand how sickeningly hypocritical this world truly is. He will realize how laughable the so-called 'bonds of comrades' and the 'Will of Fire' really are when faced with reality."
White Zetsu was silent for a few seconds, then stretched its face into an exaggerated, jagged smile. "Wow. That's truly, beautifully cruel. But Lord Madara... are you absolutely sure the Mangekyō Sharingan that Obito inevitably awakens from the trauma will reach the destructive power level we need for the plan?"
Zetsu was genuinely wondering: what if Obito's Mangekyō technique turned out to be some useless, trash-tier utility ability?
"I am not sure," Madara answered frankly. "But it is a mathematically necessary gamble. If his genetic potential is insufficient, then he was never qualified to be my successor anyway. But if he succeeds..."
A flash of crimson madness appeared in Madara's aged eye.
"Then an existence wielding the Mangekyō Sharingan, completely and utterly despondent toward the concept of reality, and inheriting both Uchiha and Senju powers... will be the perfect, flawless executor of our grand design."
By combining two opposing forces—Uchiha Yin and Senju Yang—one can obtain dominion over all things in the universe. Since Obito had half of his crushed body replaced with Hashirama's cultivated cells, he could already be considered a perfect Senju hybrid.
Madara closed his eyes again, leaning heavily on his scythe.
"Go and finalize the political arrangements. The 'accident' in the Land of Grass involving the girl must be made to look entirely natural. Do not let Konoha's intelligence division suspect it was engineered by a third party. The border conflict in the Land of Rain must also be controlled to a precise casualty level that just happens to require Kakashi's squad for emergency reinforcement."
Finally, Madara added with absolute finality: "Everything must be completed within this month."
"Understood~" White Zetsu sang. Its pale body slowly sank into the solid stone floor, leaving only one last, echoing sentence in the dark cave.
"The curtains of the stage are about to be drawn."
Silence returned to the subterranean graveyard.
Madara sat alone in the crushing darkness. He raised his hand, staring at his withered, necrotic skin and clearly visible, jutting bone structure.
His time was running out rapidly. Before facing complete biological death, he absolutely had to finalize this apocalyptic plan he had meticulously prepared for decades.
The Infinite Tsukuyomi. A god-like genjutsu that could plunge the entire planet into an eternal, perfect dream. A world without war, without loss, without betrayal, and without pain.
"Rin..."
Madara frowned slightly in annoyance.
After falling asleep, the crushed boy on the stone slab had murmured the girl's name exactly ninety-five times in total. Madara had planned to rest for a while once the boy finally shut up; in his extreme old age, his mental energy couldn't compare to when he was young.
"Kakashi... Kakashi..." Obito started talking in his sleep again, this time murmuring his rival's name.
Madara remained perfectly expressionless. Absolute silence was the only theme of the underground passage tonight.
A few days later, on the eastern coastline.
The tense tranquility of the coastal fortress was violently shattered by a shrill, terrifying siren echoing from the watchtowers beyond the beach.
"ENEMY ATTACK!!"
On this day, the armada of the Hidden Mist finally invaded the Land of Fire in absolute force.
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