Otogakure was peaceful—more peaceful than it had ever been.
Tsunade didn't belong to that peace.
She walked through the winding tunnels beneath the village's surface.
The passageway was deep, the light stingy—only a few torches embedded in rough stone gave off a dim halo, barely pushing back a small pocket of darkness.
The air was damp and cold, mixed with earth, mildew, and the sharp stink of disinfectant.
The rock walls were icy to the touch. Water seeped from cracks overhead and dripped now and then, each drop striking the silence with a dull, heavy echo.
Tsunade's face was expressionless. Her steps were steady and powerful, her footsteps ringing through the hollow corridor—clear, lonely.
She headed for the thick iron door at the end.
Behind it was the purpose of this visit.
Her old friend.
"Creeeak—"
The ancient hinges screamed as the door opened, tearing apart the interrogation room's stillness.
Light rushed in, sketching the bare outlines inside:
A metal table. Two wooden chairs. Cold stone walls without ornament.
Disinfectant hung in the air, along with the bitter, clean scent of some medicinal plant.
Then the cold overhead lamp was switched on, bleaching everything in a pallid, lifeless tone.
Tsunade strode to the chair at the head of the table and sat. The chair legs scraped the stone floor with a short, harsh sound.
Her gaze landed on the figure bound in the center of the room.
Thick roots had sprouted from the floor and walls, winding like living things, hoisting someone into the air and binding them tight.
Where they cinched, they outlined unmistakably feminine curves.
Skin pale to the point of translucence—like someone who hadn't seen sunlight in years.
A waterfall of black hair spilled down, obscuring part of the face on both sides, but it couldn't hide the eyes: golden slit pupils, cold-blooded and bright even in the dim light.
Orochimaru.
"Tsunade…"
The bound figure spoke first. The voice carried that familiar rasp—hoarse, magnetic—without a trace of panic. If anything, it sounded amused, curious.
"When did you obtain Wood Release?"
Tsunade stared at that face—familiar and yet alien.
The skin was still that remembered pallor. The features still held the shadow of the past.
But she did not remember Orochimaru being a woman.
Behind those snake eyes, that inhuman essence—stripped clean of ordinary emotion—made something complicated stir inside her chest.
So… another body.
A heavy disgust flickered through Tsunade's eyes.
She didn't answer the question.
Instead, she leaned forward, elbows on the cold metal tabletop, hands clasped, chin resting lightly on her knuckles.
The posture looked relaxed.
But every muscle in her body tightened, and a pressure began to fill the narrow room like invisible fog.
"How easy you've got it, Orochimaru."
Her voice was low, but each word was a blade forged of ice.
"Even as a prisoner, you're still acting like none of this matters. Do you really think I won't kill you?"
The moment the words fell, killing intent exploded out of Tsunade like a sudden storm.
In the depths of her amber eyes, warmth vanished—replaced by a cold flame that could freeze blood.
This was the killing intent of a battlefield demon: someone who had crawled through mountains of corpses, someone whose hands had been stained by countless deaths.
Dust in the air seemed to lock in place. The room temperature dropped. Even the light felt dimmer.
That murderous pressure crashed against the walls. Frost seemed to creep across stone. The metal table let out a thin, strained whine.
And Orochimaru, at the center of it all, looked as if a gentle breeze had brushed their face.
Those snake eyes remained calm—almost entertained.
They rolled their neck slightly. A soft click sounded, as though they were simply loosening up after sitting too long.
"Tsunade…"
Ignoring a killing aura that would've shattered a normal shinobi's mind, Orochimaru pressed forward, voice steady enough to chill the bone.
"Even during those years you fell into ruin—soaking yourself in alcohol and drowning in gambling—I was watching you. Just like Jiraiya."
At Jiraiya's name, Orochimaru's tone carried obvious mockery… and a sliver of acknowledgement.
"That fool ran around chasing some 'child of prophecy,' doing nonsense like a drifting idiot… but I'll admit it. He had power capable of disrupting the shinobi world's balance. And you do too, Tsunade. You're still the number one medical-nin in the world."
Then Orochimaru's gaze sharpened like a scalpel, dissecting with icy precision:
"You drink and gamble every day. Even though you lose every time, you keep throwing yourself back in. On the surface it looks like addiction, but really, it's just your way of running from the past, isn't it?"
"You use those repeated losses to punish yourself for failing your duty as a medical-nin—to save lives. And you keep telling yourself, 'See? My luck is just that bad,' turning it into a rigid belief so you can numb your nerves… so you can pretend you've 'made peace' with Dan and Nawaki's deaths."
The names pierced Tsunade's nerves like a spear.
A second wave of killing intent erupted—several times more terrifying than before.
This was no longer cold pressure.
This was molten rage.
Tsunade slammed to her feet. The entire room trembled. Dust rained from the stone walls as if the place might collapse under sheer murderous force.
A screech of metal—cracks spiderwebbed across the table. The stone beneath her feet fractured silently, pebbles jolting outward.
Her blonde hair lifted with the surge of chakra. Her amber eyes became hell itself, burning with fury that could incinerate everything.
She locked onto Orochimaru, teeth grinding, fists clenched, muscle swelling beneath her skin—like the next heartbeat would be her launching forward to tear them apart.
And Orochimaru remained calm.
Like a reef in the deep sea, unmoved by any wave.
Time crawled by inside that suffocating storm.
A few seconds—or longer.
Tsunade's breathing was harsh, chest rising and falling.
At last, she drew in a deep breath, forcing down the rage and pain flooding her lungs.
The crushing aura snapped back into her body.
Her eyes turned into a focused, glacial blade, voice low from the effort of control:
"Orochimaru. If you've got time to pry open old wounds for fun… then pry open your own."
Her words were laced with disdain—and something else, sharp and aching beneath it.
"You've turned yourself into this… half-human, half-monster thing. Hiding in the dark, playing with forbidden soul techniques. Was it worth it?"
For the first time, Orochimaru's composure shifted—revealing stubbornness and fanatic zeal.
"Because I have shed these shells again and again, because I have stared straight into the truest desire buried in my heart… I have never once regretted this path."
Tsunade closed her eyes.
"You're… insane."
She spat the words through her teeth, exhausted.
"Heh… hehehe…"
Orochimaru chuckled softly. The sound echoed through the empty room—light, almost pleasant.
As if the threat of death had been nothing but an irrelevant joke.
When the laughter faded, Orochimaru looked at Tsunade again, snake eyes glinting with calculation.
"Enough reminiscing. Let's talk business."
"You didn't kill me. You went to the trouble of imprisoning me here. So…"
"What exactly do you want from me?"
They asked as if it were obvious—like they were the one holding the reins, not the prisoner.
Tsunade watched that self-assured expression without the slightest disturbance.
That kind of psychological pressure?
Compared to commanding in the Great War—carrying the hopes of Konoha and the lives of countless shinobi while walking the edge of despair every day—this was child's play.
She sat back down, posture loose, even lazy as she leaned into the chair.
"I want to change this world."
Her voice was casual, almost offhand.
"But the world right now is… inefficient."
"What?"
For the first time, Orochimaru truly lost control of their expression.
Those slit pupils shrank to needle points. Shock flashed across that pale face.
Even when Tsunade had raided Otogakure, unveiling Wood Release and a terrifying genjutsu that rivaled the Mangekyō Sharingan…
Orochimaru hadn't looked like this.
That single sentence shattered the image of Tsunade as someone drowning in alcohol and cards, escaping reality.
The composed mask cracked, revealing something darker—hungry, fanatic.
A long tongue slid out, licking their lips. A low, eerie laugh slipped free.
"Hohoho… So a great many interesting things happened to you while I wasn't watching."
They emphasized the word interesting.
But experience told Orochimaru not to rush. They forced the storm in their mind down and, for once, spoke with something close to sincerity.
"Tell me, Tsunade."
"Why do you want to change the world?"
"And what, exactly, makes this world 'inefficient' in your eyes?"
They caught the key word immediately.
Tsunade met their gaze head-on.
"I can tell you."
"After you become one of my people."
Orochimaru let out a short laugh, thick with sarcasm.
"So you're finally going to use that genjutsu on me?"
They paused, recalling the bizarre technique that had instantly bent Otogakure's shinobi with only a few words.
"Turn me into another puppet who obeys you?"
Tsunade leaned forward again, returning to the posture of clasped hands beneath her chin.
It made her look focused—and faintly judgmental.
"No, Orochimaru."
Her voice was calm now, even solemn.
"If it isn't necessary, I don't want to use that method to control you."
She paused, then said clearly:
"You're a genius."
Not flattery. A cold statement of fact.
"In my life, I've seen countless powerful shinobi."
"My grandfathers. The Fourth. Madara Uchiha…"
"They reached heights of raw power that people can only look up to."
Then her tone sharpened.
"But you—Orochimaru—you're the most unusual genius I've ever seen."
"Your talent isn't strength."
"It's here."
She tapped her temple with one finger.
"It's your obsession with the unknown. Your madness toward life's essence. Those eyes that can see rules—and even dream of rewriting them."
"You chose a different road."
A ripple passed through Orochimaru's eyes.
Even coming from Hashirama's granddaughter, such a clinical, absolute appraisal of "genius" was rare.
Tsunade continued, voice decisive:
"That's why I know using that genjutsu on you would be pointless."
"With your intelligence, will, and research into the soul and mind, you'd find a way to break free sooner or later."
"And you might even turn it around and use it."
She stared at Orochimaru, word by word:
"So I'm not threatening you with genjutsu."
"And I'm not forcing you with power."
"Orochimaru—I'm formally proposing…"
"Recruitment."
The word hit the silence like thunder.
"Do you want to join me?"
The room went still.
Dust drifted under the cold lamp.
Orochimaru hung for a moment in the last memory of those roots, golden eyes deep as a well, reflecting Tsunade's face—serious, ambitious, unwavering.
They were silent for several breaths, weighing truth and lie, benefit and risk.
Then that unsettling smile returned.
"Honestly, Tsunade…"
Their voice slipped back into that hoarse magnetism, tinged with amusement.
"Maybe you really do understand me. The way I understand you."
"What you've become… does stir my curiosity."
Their head tilted slightly. The snake eyes gleamed—dangerous, excited.
"So joining you…"
"Why not?"
With Orochimaru's answer, Tsunade's intent shifted.
The roots withdrew at once, softening and sliding back into wall and ceiling until only empty grooves remained.
Orochimaru dropped—
But even with their chakra sealed, the landing was light, graceful. A toe touched the ground, silent as a feather, and they stood.
Before Orochimaru could speak again, a point of light blinked into existence in the air before their eyes.
The glow expanded, stretched, and became a soft blue, semi-transparent rectangular screen.
Two lines of strange text appeared.
And somehow, Orochimaru understood them instantly:
[Tsunade is requesting you to join the Ninja World Chat Group (sub-group). Accept?][Accept] [Decline]
No chakra signature. No hand seals. It simply existed.
Orochimaru's pupils tightened, alertness and fascination igniting together.
Their mind raced:
"Genjutsu? But there's no chakra ripple.
Spatial interference? Mental projection?
The core is the 'Accept'—a forced consent anchor to deepen suggestion and reinforce control?"
They reflexively gathered what little chakra they had left, testing whether a chakra surge could shatter it.
Tsunade watched everything, and a faint smile tugged at her mouth—half understanding, half nostalgia.
She remembered her own first encounter with the "Gourmet Chat Group," when she'd stubbornly categorized it as an unknown high-level genjutsu.
"Stop guessing, Orochimaru. This isn't a genjutsu trap."
Her voice broke the tension. She met those questioning eyes and explained:
"This is something called a Chat Group."
"If it helps you understand, treat it as… a special kind of genjutsu contract."
"Once you sign it, you can communicate instantly with me and the others under contract, no matter the distance."
"And… you can use various abilities derived from it."
Orochimaru's gaze sharpened.
Instant long-range communication. Abilities.
Tsunade continued.
"The contract's core safeguard is this: if you leave it, everything tied to it—secrets, abilities, even the relevant memories—will be erased by the contract itself."
"As if it never happened."
"That's the guarantee preventing leaks."
Orochimaru's mind clicked.
A containment mechanism. A self-sanitizing secrecy covenant.
Their eyes flared with fervent hunger for knowledge.
"Then it's true…"
"The reason you have Wood Release, and the reason you could 'command' my subordinates yesterday… all of it comes from this contract."
"And to learn the full truth, I have to join it—under its witness and enforcement."
They glanced at the screen again, almost reverent.
"A perfect system… a technique powerful enough to be intoxicating."
Without hesitation, Orochimaru reached out and pressed [Accept].
No sensation. No sound.
The blue interface reshaped, expanding into a more complex menu with unfamiliar icons and panels—projected directly into their vision.
In the instant it unfolded, Orochimaru grasped the concept of member status, messaging structure, and, most importantly—
the Group Shop.
Their gaze snapped to the shop list, and each item's description struck like lightning.
Very quickly, two entries caught and held Orochimaru's attention:
Word-Sigil PantyhosePossibility Clone
"Now I see!"
Orochimaru exhaled—almost blissful—eyes locked on the Word-Sigil Pantyhose description.
"Tsunade, the 'genjutsu' you used to control my people yesterday—its essence is this Word-Sigil, isn't it?"
"And the root of your Wood Release…"
Their burning gaze slid to Possibility Clone.
"…came from summoning a clone with Wood Release and extracting the bloodline's secret from it?"
Their eyes flicked toward Tsunade's ankles and legs—
But there was no purple pantyhose in sight. Tsunade looked perfectly normal.
"Wait…"
A faint crease appeared between Orochimaru's brows.
Yesterday, too—Tsunade had been dressed normally when she used the technique.
Confusion sharpened into deeper curiosity.
"There's a connection," Tsunade said, "but you're not entirely right."
She spoke like a guide, patient and exact.
"First," she raised one finger, tone turning solemn as she laid out a larger picture, "I need to give you a concept."
"A world."
"The land we stand on is called the shinobi world. In truth, it exists on a massive planet."
"Beyond this planet is an almost endless, deep, empty universe."
"All of that together can be called a 'world.'"
"And outside our world…"
Her voice lowered as she spread her hands outward, as if indicating infinity.
"There are countless other worlds."
"They may run on completely different laws and power systems. Lifeforms, civilizations—everything could be utterly different."
"The main Chat Group is a contract that can ignore distance… and even pierce the boundary between worlds, connecting individuals from different worlds."
She paused, then added:
"What you joined is only a sub-group under my control. Its effects are limited to a single world."
As Tsunade expected, Orochimaru didn't scoff.
There was no disbelief—only the pure shock and ecstasy of having the horizon of reality kicked wide open.
Worlds beyond worlds?
Their hunger for research ignited hotter than ever.
"So," Orochimaru said sharply, "did one of your group members summon a Wood Release clone?"
But even as they asked, they shook their head and overturned the simplistic idea.
"No. Even if someone summoned a Wood Release clone, it would only be like obtaining First Hokage cells—a research sample. It wouldn't grant you Wood Release itself."
Their gaze sharpened on Tsunade.
And when Orochimaru mentioned First Hokage cells, Tsunade's eyelid twitched—just slightly.
"Yes," Tsunade said. "And the key isn't a Wood Release clone."
"One of my group members summoned something called a 'hybrid-bloodline' clone."
"That clone possessed a special ability called Bloodburst."
Seeing Orochimaru's confusion, Tsunade explained in detail:
"It's a technique that uses will and mental force to stimulate and raise the concentration of a specific bloodline in the body."
"In a short time, it can draw out the power of that bloodline."
"I studied Bloodburst's underlying principles with the help of multiple group members across different systems."
"Then I tested it on a Possibility Clone of myself—one that carried Senju blood."
"I used chakra to simulate Bloodburst, forcibly stimulating the dormant Wood Release bloodline hidden in that clone."
Tsunade's tone held a thread of pride.
"In the end, I succeeded in reproducing that 'forced awakening of bloodline potential'—using chakra."
At the very end, Tsunade added, voice steadier than before, as if making a vow:
"In the Fire Country arc… I'm going to stop dumping raw setting explanations."
"It takes more time than I expected to write it this way, so today's word count is a little low."
(That last line hung in the air like a promise—quiet, deliberate.)
Join here to read ahead.
In Star Rail, Ultra-Beast Armored — Have I Caught "Equilibrium"? l (Chapter 80)
Uma Musume, But I Only Have Five Years Left to Live (Chapter 178)
Zenless Zone Zero: I'm a Doctor, Not a Bangboo (Chapter 147)
Ben Tennyson Wants to Join the Justice League ( 126 )
TYPE-MOON: Redemption Beginning with the Holy Grail War (Chapter110)
Yu-Gi-Oh! — Transmigrated into the White Dragon Girl (Chapter185)
"Is this chat group even serious?" (Chapter105)
I, Lord Ravager, Utterly Loyal! (Chapter215)
Can Playing Games Save the World? 65
Crossover Anime Multiverse: The Demon Hunter of an Unnatural World 77
From Junkman to Wasteland 66
Weekly Refresh of Overpowered 31
I'm Grinding Proficiency Like 46
From Kiana, Lord Ravager, Onwa 185
Honkai: Is This Still the Prev 42
Elf: My Starter Pokémon Is Inc 65
Warhammer: My Primarch Is Remi 170
From Demon Slayer to Grand Ass Volume2/1
The Way the Umamusume Look at 68
Uma Musume, but My Cheat Power 206
Naruto: Weaving the Future, Be 65
Zenless Zone Zero, but Kamen R 76
Multiverse Crossover: The Perf 66
My Cyberpsycho Girlfriend 65
Uma Musume: The Dark Trainer 190
Uma Musume: A Calamity Born fr 154
I, a Reincarnation-Loop Player Volume4/23
The Violent Girl Group Is Beat 106
Uma Musume: The Horse Girl Who 67
Uma Musume: From Beginner 125
Becoming a Horse Girl, I Will 85
Uma Musume: I Want All 105
I Can Copy Unique Skills 90
Summoning an Evil God, but the 70
Supernatural Multiverse 90
My Harem Is Indescribable 80
Jujutsu Kaisen: Heroic Spirit 86
"I'm just a Valkyrie passing through." 68
Uma Musume: Today Is Another Romantic Battlefield 81
Still playing traditional Honk 65
The Most Filial Son Under Heav 65
What Should I Do After Switchi - Volume2/3
Reincarnated as a Demon, Skill 57
Hell-Difficulty Dungeon? 45
Transmigrated as Sukuna 59
Checking In in Demon Slayer 59
The Reincarnating Trainer of Tracen Academy 73
I Refuse to Become a Heroic 45
My Best Friend Into a Slime? 36
A Saiyan Stands Above Marvel 40
What Do You Mean by Using a Lab Mod to Be the Hero? 60
Tanya Starts from Re:Zero 30
Why did they assign me to Uma 35
MYGO Beauties 43
DanMachi: Emiya the Giant Hero 30
The Gacha Merchant Who Started 31
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