"Strength is the only true currency of authority," Orochimaru said, that familiar, unsettling smile lingering on his lips. "Only someone like you is qualified to speak with me… and only someone like you could possibly be of use."
"Go on," Shimizu replied, his brow faintly furrowed. That smile—especially now, after hearing of Orochimaru's ruthless slaughter of prisoners—left a bitter taste. And yet, he could not deny it: Orochimaru possessed all the makings of a warlord. Decisive, merciless, and bold beyond reason.
"I imagine you were sent here with a mission of your own," Orochimaru continued lightly. "So I'll be direct."
"I intend to become the Fourth Hokage. For that, I need your support."
For a brief instant, Shimizu almost scoffed. The position of Fourth Hokage belonged, in his mind, to Minato Namikaze. How could he possibly assist in something like this?
He was on the verge of refusing outright, but before he could speak, Orochimaru pressed on.
"I know that even now, Uzuki-kun, you do not truly agree with many of the decisions made by the Third Hokage."
An attempt at defection?
No—hardly. Shimizu had never truly been loyal to the Third Hokage to begin with.
Hiruzen Sarutobi had always been a figure of contradiction, even in the stories of Shimizu's previous life. Some praised him as the architect of Konoha's golden age, the mentor who nurtured the legendary Sannin, the leader who held the village together through a war on multiple fronts. Others condemned him as indecisive and overly lenient, allowing internal strife to fester until even the great clans of Konoha could not escape decline.
From Shimizu's own perspective, Hiruzen was both things at once: a gentle elder who cared deeply for the next generation, and a consummate politician who would not yield an inch when it came to the village's core interests.
"And between you and me," Orochimaru went on, "there is no real grievance—no blood feud that cannot be set aside."
"If anything, we have shared two rather pleasant transactions in the past. In fact, your current mastery of water techniques owes much to that scroll I once provided, does it not?"
Shimizu clicked his tongue inwardly. Taking credit was one thing—but to so casually erase the fact that he had once plotted against him, that was something else entirely. Back then, had Shimizu shown even the slightest weakness, he would have long since been reduced to a specimen preserved in a jar.
"Besides," Orochimaru added, his golden eyes narrowing with quiet amusement, "others may not see it, but I can feel it—you are a man of ambition, just as I am. Perhaps your ambitions are no smaller than mine."
"You and I, Uzuki-kun… we are the same kind of person."
"So why not join forces?"
Shimizu did not answer the invitation directly. Instead, he shifted the conversation with deliberate calm. "And how exactly am I supposed to help you become Hokage? As things stand, I have neither power nor influence."
"I intend to destroy the underground passage in the southwest of the Land of Fire—the one used by Sunagakure to transport supplies," Orochimaru said. "Cut off their logistics at the root."
So that was it. This was why Orochimaru had summoned him—to amass military merit on a scale that would eclipse even Minato's.
But the plan was dangerously reckless.
Konoha had not ignored that passage before. Yet Sunagakure had long since fortified it with layers of defense, making infiltration nearly impossible.
"And in addition," Orochimaru continued, "I will strike their supply depot directly."
Shimizu's only thought was simple and stark.
He's lost his mind.
The supply stores of Sunagakure were positioned atop a ridge some thirty kilometers behind their main army—a place of natural advantage, commanding a wide field of vision and fortified to be nearly impregnable. Worse still, the Sunagakure forces had constructed extensive defensive works there.
Setting aside the risk of being detected before even launching a surprise attack, even a costly frontal assault offered no guarantee of success. Thirty kilometers was nothing to an army of that size; reinforcements could be dispatched at any moment.
What began as an attempt to strike a decisive blow could easily end in catastrophic loss.
And yet… Shimizu could not entirely dismiss the possibility.
If the strike force were powerful enough, if its execution were flawless—then perhaps, just perhaps, it could succeed.
But therein lay the true problem.
With Konohagakure already stretched thin, fighting on two fronts, where would they find the strength to gamble on such a high-risk operation?
And if they committed everything to this desperate move, leaving their rear exposed—what then? If Kumogakure or Kirigakure caught wind of the opportunity, would it not invite yet another war to ignite in the shadows?
In the end, the leadership of Konohagakure—or more precisely, the Third Hokage—had chosen the most cautious course available to them. Their priority lay in forcefully containing Iwagakure, which had yet to launch a full-scale invasion, while dealing with Sunagakure at a slower, measured pace. It was a decision born of calculation: prolonged warfare would inevitably strain Sunagakure's extended supply lines, and sooner or later, their provisions would falter.
When that moment came, Konoha could strike with ease.
It was a strategy that preserved strength, minimized risk, and promised a stable path to victory.
But Orochimaru had no intention of walking that path.
"These two objectives," Orochimaru said calmly, "cannot achieve a decisive defeat of Sunagakure if pursued separately. So I will take responsibility for attacking their supply depot, while you handle the passage in the southwest of the Land of Fire."
He fell silent then, watching Shimizu with patient expectation.
To Orochimaru, crushing Sunagakure was a trial he had no choice but to overcome if he wished to ascend to the position of Hokage. Without risking everything, how could he amass the kind of military merit that would command universal respect? How could he ever eclipse Minato Namikaze?
"Uzuki-kun," he said after a pause, "it seems you do not agree with my plan."
"I think it will be difficult," Shimizu replied, his tone measured and unflinching. "Our current strength is not enough to accomplish what you're proposing."
"…Tell me," Orochimaru suddenly asked, his voice shifting, "how do you think the title of the Sannin came to be?"
"A gift from Hanzo," Shimizu answered without hesitation, unconcerned about provoking him. In his view, it had always been a calculated gesture—Hanzo sparing them to avoid antagonizing Konoha, offering them a title as a form of appeasement to the Third Hokage.
Orochimaru let out a low, amused chuckle, though there was something colder beneath it. "No… it was earned. During the Second Great Ninja War, we carved that name out with our own hands—stepping over countless corpses, staking everything on sheer, reckless courage."
His gaze darkened as he continued.
"Do you think that old man Hanzo had it as easy as he made it seem? Yes, Jiraiya, Tsunade, and I gave everything we had and still could not defeat him—but neither did he defeat us."
"What mattered," he said, voice sharpening, "was that the three of us were willing to stake our lives against his. And he… was not."
"He hesitated."
"In the end, he needed a way out. So he gave himself one—and named us the 'Sannin of Konoha.'"
It was a version of events Shimizu had never heard before—a firsthand account of the battle that forged their legend.
"…Perhaps," Shimizu said after a moment, noncommittal. "But what of it? A moment of triumph belongs to the past. It does not decide whether you succeed or fail in the future."
Orochimaru's smile returned, faint but knowing. "You think I've gone mad, don't you?"
Shimizu, caught out, found himself unable to answer aloud.
"If this were the past, perhaps you would be right," Orochimaru continued. "But now, my teacher has reorganized Konoha's intelligence network. For the time being, Sunagakure can no longer obtain information as swiftly as before."
He began to outline his strategy, his voice low but precise.
"In the near future, we will first move north alongside Minato. To our enemies, it will appear that we've joined the campaign against Iwagakure."
"And once they lose track of us," he went on, "we split and move at full speed toward our respective targets."
"If we remain undetected throughout…" His golden eyes gleamed faintly. "I trust you can imagine the devastation a mysterious force appearing behind enemy lines would cause."
Feigning one attack while striking elsewhere. Concealing intentions beneath misdirection. Severing supply lines, striking at the heart of logistics…
Shimizu could not help the flicker of surprise that crossed his mind.
So the man was not merely a scientist—he was a tactician as well.
And disturbingly… it might actually work.
To his own surprise, Shimizu found himself wavering, almost persuaded. Was there, buried somewhere within him, such a reckless appetite for risk?
This was no simple gamble—it was staking one's life outright. If they were exposed or surrounded, survival would be little more than a faint hope.
As for the so-called "orders" from the Third Hokage… they had never been strict commands, merely advice—guidance offered by an elder.
And in the field, a general was not always bound by distant authority.
More importantly, Orochimaru's plan was not the blind madness it first appeared to be. There was logic beneath the audacity.
If it succeeded, the benefits to Konoha would be immense. And a man like the Third Hokage, who placed the village above all else, would hardly punish such results—if anything, he would reward them.
Besides… even if both operations succeeded, Shimizu did not believe Orochimaru would truly become the Fourth Hokage.
For reasons he could not fully explain, he held an unshakable certainty that Minato Namikaze would ascend to that position, just as the story had once foretold.
In the end, the conclusion was simple.
It was worth trying.
But Orochimaru's request would not come free.
No—this was nothing more than another mutually beneficial transaction.
So Shimizu spoke plainly, his gaze steady. "Then where is your sincerity?"
Orochimaru's lips curved slightly. "The remaining three pages left by the Second Hokage…"
"I don't want that," Shimizu cut in without hesitation.
The Flying Thunder God technique he had acquired in their last exchange was practically gathering dust already. It was not merely a matter of time—he knew his own limits well enough. No amount of legendary techniques would change that.
Give him more, and they would only rot away, forgotten in the depths of some metaphorical storehouse.
...
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