Kentarō
Two weeks had passed since his reincarnation, and the sight of blood and torn flesh barely fazed him anymore. No longer did nausea twist his stomach, nor did cold shudders creep down his spine. Now he just watched without as much as blinking, while Orochimaru methodically carved through the lower abdomen of the lifeless body before him.
He didn't bother to look away. Not even for a second. Every slice, every flick of the scalpel, etched itself into his brain. The more he forced himself to watch, the more ready he'd be. At least that's what he kept telling himself. Because if the stories about this world were right, death and gore were going to be his new normal.
'Ninja, eh?' A bunch of highly trained killers shaped by the villages into living weapons. They took any job; fetching some rich lady's lost cat, guarding a trade caravan or making important people disappear without a sound.
Normally, he would have been trained in one of those shinobi academies, the kind that took young, impressionable brats and molded them into deadly weapons. Brainwashed to fulfil all orders without a second thought. Fortunately or not, he wasn't in any academy. Instead, he found himself in some shady underground facility, far removed from the well-trodden path of the shinobi world.
Anyone who had read "Of Shinobi and Their Upbringing" would quickly draw the obvious conclusion: whatever the fuck Orochimaru was cooking up here; was anything but good.
And it's not like he was even trying to hide that.
"Kukuku… So this is the new poison Sunagakure came up with?" Orochimaru mused quietly, his fingers delicately hovering over the vial of urine he had extracted from the corpse. His eyes flicked over it with a mixture of curiosity and analytical detachment. "I wonder how Tsunade would have countered this…"
From what Kentarō had learned under the Sannin's tutelage, urine was the most reliable medium for comprehensive drug and poison screening. It was the foundation of many of Orochimaru's own methods, his mind forever turning to the practicalities of life and death.
The name he called out though… it was rare for the man to mention someone by it in Kentarō's company. Orochimaru, typically so guarded in his thoughts, didn't often speak of others by name unless they held a particular significance in his mind.
"Who is Tsunade?" He asked bluntly.
The question earned a thoughtful hum from Orochimaru. The Sannin didn't answer right away, instead taking his time to carefully place the sample into a container, babying it with care like a mother would her own child. Kentarō waited patiently, though inside he was brimming with curiosity.
Only when the vial was safely placed in the stash and shut with an audible click, did Orochimaru speak.
"She was a former teammate of mine," he began. "Tsunade-hime is one of the very few surviving Senju descendants, and the last of them who still holds any relevance. A granddaughter to Hashirama Senju himself, legendary founder of Konhagakure. Like me, she is a Sannin, but known for her association with slugs rather than snakes."
There was a brief pause, before Orochimaru's tone took on a hint of disdain. "She is, or rather was; the greatest medical-nin known to me, a talent squandered by her constant gambling and alcoholism. Truly, a waste of potential."
With a snort, he once again inserted his hands equipped with medical instruments into the corpse as he continued, each word laced with scorn.
"The death of her beloved younger brother left deep marks upon her psyche, which in turn bloomed into fear of blood." Orochimaru huffed under his nose, likely to chase away the smell coming from the bladder. "This, dear Kentarō-kun, is what happens when you let bonds you form with others shape the very essence of who you are."
"...And when they are finally gone from this world, which will happen sooner than later; a part of you simply vanishes, and vanishes more and more until you sink like a ship in the sea of sorrow and failure."
"...I see." He rarely heard Orochimaru say something clearly personal, so he made sure to remember it, so as to better understand the person the Sannin is. Thinking that way, he decided to indulge in a little bit of banter with the man just this once.
"That's quite a depressing way to look at it." Kentarō stated precariously. "If we are to talk in metaphors, I think the bonds could be more like rafts, something we could latch onto when in need."
The Snake Sage immediately laughed in response, though it had no mirth behind it. "When the sorrow and sadness weighs upon your soul like Mount Myōboku itself, wouldn't you simply drown that raft with yourself?"
"Perhaps." He fidgeted slightly, looking for the right words. It's not like he was accustomed to philosophical debates on a daily basis. "Or perhaps not. Depression is a hard thing to fight against. But even then, one may just survive the endless storms, and those few apt words of encouragement, some time spent together or a simple hug at the right moment, might be just enough to change the tide."
Kentarō smiled at the man smugly. "Just as you have shown me yourself, you grumpy old fart."
Orochimaru slapped him on the back of his skull. The man remained unimpressed, even as Kentarō scowled, rubbing his head.
"I might just regret that, dear Kentarō-kun, for in the thousands of outcomes I foresaw, never once I imagined a brat ending up lecturing me about life." He shook his head in bemusement. "While I appreciate your willingness to find a meaning in your life, you place far too much faith in resolve." Sannin replied. "It erodes, given enough time, as people are weak in spirit, it's their nature."
'I know. But without clinging to it, I might just really sink for good.'
Orochimaru continued. "Storms, as you adequately named them, are inevitable. Loss, at one point or another; is inevitable. When I mentioned you might find a person, whose life is worth far more than yours, I did not wish for you to seek dependence on others, it will only leave you with a corpse in hands. The world revolves around the whims of the strong, not the other way around."
Orochimaru spread his arms in mock grandeur. "This whole facility depends on me. The fate of Konohagakure no Sato depends on me, now that we are at war. Oh great and noble Orochimaru of the Sannin. Yet what would come of them if I decided to simply leave it all behind?"
Kentarō frowned when he said nothing more. "You speak as if detachment makes a person undefeatable."
"It makes one unsinkable in the sea of loss, child." He replied without hesitation. "A vessel with no cargo fears no weaves."
Kentarō frowned. "But… a vessel without a cargo has no destination."
Orochimaru's single eyebrow rose. "How quaint. You believe suffering grants direction."
Kentarō cited: "It was only when my parents died, half a year after I became a genin; that I truly discovered my rival. My biggest enemy."
The man's other eyebrow rose, though he did not know if it was a feeling of surprise, or bewilderment at how stupid he sounded. He got his answer when Orochimaru smiled, before bursting into full blown, raspy laughter.
"Oh my~. How adorable of you, Kentarō-kun, using my own words against me. They would like you in Konoha's Torture and Interrogation Corps. Alas, let me educate you a little bit more about myself."
Sannin gestured with his hand at himself vaguely. "Have you ever wondered why I look so inhuman?"
Kentarō could only nod.
"It's mostly a byproduct of genetic modification done upon me by my parents when I was a child."
His breath stopped for a second. Kentarō could feel pity slowly creep it's way into his heart, only for him to squash it immediately. 'I have no need to either believe it nor deny it.'
His reaction did not escape Orochimaru's ever-seeing gaze. "I do not hate them, if that's what you think. Mostly, because I improved upon the original design, kukuku…"
…
"Orochimaru?"
"What is it, child?"
There's a multitude of things he could say, more topics he could argue about. He did not truly believe that suffering granted direction, only that it forced a choice. A moment where one decided whether pain would hollow them out, or mature them into a stronger person.
But he saw no point in pressing further.
For how could Adam offer salvation to the Serpent?
"...You are fucked up beyond saving."
"...Kukukuku."
…
It took almost half an hour of deep thinking for Kentarō's head to stop throbbing from the slap, and to finally finish analyzing their whole conversation along with possible ways it could go, before he asked another question.
"Who are medical-nin's?"
Orochimaru did not seem to mind the change. "Medical-nin are those who utilize medical ninjutsu; a style that uses chakra to repair any harm to the body by accelerating and enhancing their natural healing process to restore their physical condition. As it's a type of Yang Release, it uses only the physical energy of the medical-nin to manipulate the body's cells and biological functions, whereas spiritual energy of the patient is needed as a reference for the original state of the body."
Orochimaru lifted his hand above the abdomen of yet another corpse that Kentarō left on the table, only for a bright, blue glow to coat it, and slowly mend the wounds.
He maintained it for a few seconds before dispersing the chakra, only for the opening to revert back to its original size.
Kentarō swiftly committed every word and image to the memory, nodding his head in acknowledgment.
"Can you teach me medical ninjutsu?"
"No."
…
"...Why?"
"Until I see the fruits of your labor and see you deserve being invested into, you will get nothing more but scraps to keep you alive." Was his plain response.
Then, a slow, cruel smirk curled his lips.
"Either that, or it will be you lying on the surgical bed."
Ignoring the ominous remark, Kentarō decided to try another approach, shedding an already thin veil of shamelessness.
And so he pouted.
Like a child.
"It won't work on me, I know your actual age."
Skinny, greedy fucker. 'Even I don't remember that!'
"Unruly child." He shook his head with a scoff. "I can read you like a book."
"Why call me a child then? Are you into kids? That's fucking disgusting."
Orochimaru raised an open hand in response.
…Kentarō whistled, while looking anywhere but at Orochimaru. The ceiling suddenly became really interesting. "...Speaking of books, can I get another one?"
The man lowered his hand, slowly, until it remained at the level of his waist.
"...Dear Kentarō-kun, while searching through your head, I acquired knowledge of this really interesting gesture that seems to convey thousands of words without actually speaking. Let me answer you with that."
His fingers curled one by one towards the palm.
All, safe for the middle finger.
Kentarō's mouth twitched for retort, his head boiling in anger. It was not the fact that he was flipped off by an old bastard that made him feel this rage.
But the casualness with which the man admitted to basically mind-raping him with no remorse whatsoever.
Kentarō sighed, pushing down the feeling of anxiety and anger creeping into his chest. He should know better than to propitiate Sannin of all people by acting like a brat.
There was only one way.
"Then, how do I… prove myself?"
He shivered when Orochimaru's tongue darted out from his mouth, licking his lips in that disgusting way that always made him feel a shiver down his spine.
"Oh I thought you won't ask at last, kukuku…"
'Sigh… should have kept my goddamn mouth shut. '
…
A trial of prowess. Orochimaru described it as an opportunity granted to those in the lower levels of the compound. A way to prove one's mettle and acquire knowledge or new skills. Yet as expected, he refused to elaborate and told him to fuck off in very eloquent language before he slaps him again.
Would it be one on one duel, where the victor gradually ascended the ranks? Or something far more chaotic, akin to battle royale, where only the strongest and the most cunning one would emerge victorious?
So little information made Kentarō anxious, for it was not a way of shinobi to enter into enemy territory with barely any intel at hand. Still, one thing was sure; no matter what, he had no intention of losing.
Kentarō exhaled slowly, irritation bubbling beneath his composed demeanour.
Orochimaru's pettiness truly knew no bounds, he seemed to revel in it, basking in the frustration and cruelty he sowed in those around him.
'Guess we are not so different in that regard.' Kentarō snorted at the thought, before scowling in disgust. 'No, actually I'm not petty at all.'
Bonk!
"FUCK!"
A sharp thud echoed as pain shot through his skull, and Kentarō immediately swung his fist behind, only for the attacker to jump away, a sharp laugh escaping her lips.
Groaning, Kentarō clutched his throbbing head, glaring at the culprit. Of course, it was no one other than Kin Tsuchi, standing there with that infuriating smirk of hers, and having just lobbed a fucking log at his head.
With an overdramatic sigh, he straightened up and swiftly made hand signs required for Replacement Technique. This was part of their training too, each of them would perform a jutsu while the others observed, analyzing them in search of flaws.
A puff of smoke erupted, and in an instant, the log that had struck him transformed into a perfect replica of himself. The copy stood there, arms crossed, mirroring his own unimpressed glare at Kin.
She threw a kunai at it. It hit the target and changed into the log yet again with a puff of smoke. Kin gave a firm nod, before shifting her own glare towards their team captain.
"Dosu! It's your tu- AGH."
Ignoring Kin and the wooden trunk laying near her groaning form, Kentarō focused his gaze on another puff of smoke that filled the air. When it cleared, four identical figures stood before Kin, scowling at her in unison. Dosu had executed the technique flawlessly, his movements precise and effortless, just as expected. His form was as perfect as Kentarō's, if not more so.
He shot at them all, four logs hit the ground.
Kentarō nodded.
The Replacement Jutsu bore a striking resemblance to the Transformation Technique, which he had already mastered. In fact, when he thought about it, it felt like a fusion of both Clone and Transformation techniques. Like a standard clone, it lacked a will of its own, but unlike a mere illusion it had a tangible anchor, something real to stabilize the chakra around.
With its proper application, a simple log could be turned into an exact replica of the user, even set into motion, mimicking natural movement to a remarkable degree. Yet, what made it more useful in certain situations than the Clone Technique was a bit higher threshold of damage required to disperse the jutsu, and even then, replacement still remained for nearly a second and a half upon the impact; precious moments that could mean the difference between life and death in battle.
It was also great at acting as a decoy.
"Who wants to spar?" Kentarō asked, casting a knowing glance at Zaku.
The boy in question snorted, but the glint in his eyes betrayed his interest. The last time they had fought, Kentarō was on the receiving end of the not so gentle ass-whooping, and the memory still stung, so wanting a rematch was only natural… right? Or maybe, just maybe he was starting to enjoy this more than he cared to admit.
Battle junkie in the making?
Perchance.
Regardless, that little itch he felt every time now that he was about to fight, damn was it enthralling. It was glorious, not to just simply watch but to actually stand up, beat some ass and win.
He had yet to get to the winning part, but that's okay, baby steps, remember.
"You have yet to beat me, Deadeyes."
To no one's surprise, it was Kin Tsuchi who challenged him, a menacing grin tugging at her lips, the one he'd come to recognize all too well. It always surfaced when there was a smell of potential battle in the air.
Always when she sensed the chance to crush someone's ego underfoot.
'...Yes, just look at her, I'm not petty at all.'
Though this time, while the venom in her voice was still sharp and unfiltered, it lacked the usual contempt from his first days in the facility. It didn't sound personal, not like before.
It was just Kin being Kin, sharp tongued and ready to quench the thirst for some thrashing.
Though she seemed to learn her own lesson, and no longer deemed it wise to underestimate him like the first time, every time they fought now, he could feel her giving her best.
At least that's what he chose to believe, if only because it made him feel slightly appreciated.
It's not like he was being delusional though. His relationship with each member seemed… better than before. Certainly more refined. Not by much but Rome too wasn't built in one day. He finally started to feel like a part of the team, chatting and in some moments even laughing with them.
It felt nice.
And all of that, just because he started to actually care and do his best.
It didn't even take that much effort to begin with. To think forming connections with new people was that easy.
The conversation with Orochimaru came to his mind once again. Orochimaru could say what he wanted, but if not for those people, he would still be whimpering about the cruelty of his current situation. All alone and helpless.
Kentarō allowed himself to smile. They might just be his rafts, for they helped him when he was close to drowning in misery at his unfair fate.
'So just maybe, one day too I will be able to help, acting like a ship when they are in need. Actually helping others instead of drowning them with me.'
He hummed to himself. 'Yeah… that would be nice too.'
"Ya done with thinking shitstain!? Less thinking, more fighting!"
…For now, Kentarō, being the kind and helpful guy that he is; will of course start by absolutely ragebating her into having an aneurysm.
He brushed his imaginary beard, while saying in his most deep and profound voice. "The lion shits into the little dog's mouth when it barks." And lunged at her viciously.
They met in the middle of the field. Kentarō laughed, already sauntering in adrenaline as he exchanged blows with Kin, her face blushed in a mix of embarrassment and fury. Each strike was more ruthless than the previous, all aimed at vital points. In a matter of seconds, the smirk on his face faded away, a calculating and determined expression taking its place.
It looked nothing like a friendly spar. Ripped out hair strands moved in the air as they "danced", like fallen leaves twisted by a powerful gale. Eyes, joints or nether regions; nothing was spared from the merciless strikes of Viper's Fist.
A spear palm strike came to his eyes, which he swiftly swatted away with the use of right hand. As he grasped her striking hand with his own, piercing her flesh with fingernails, Kentarō directed a knee to her liver in hopes of finally turning the match in his favor.
Unsurprisingly, Kin Tsuchi saw the kick coming and jumped in the air using his knee as a leverage pivoting herself around the arm he gripped so firmly. She ignored the pain coming from it, even as his nails scratched off the skin, leaving marks of blood behind. Instead; she lashed out with a kick of her own, one that sent shockwaves throughout his teeth and knocked his head upwards.
He stumbled back trying to regain balance on his feet, while Kin Tsuchi, using the moment of weakness slithered from below, just away from his gaze and delivered a clawing strike to his eye.
A tilt of his head saved his eye, but the blood from his temple, where a scratch mark now laid; poured slowly to his left eye, restricting the once clear view of the now smirking Kin Tsuchi.
Kentarō growled in frustration, his expression twisted in a rictus of pain and anger as he pounced on her again, his hands shaped like serpent's heads. She jumped behind just in time to avoid the injury to the liver, though her robe didn't seem as lucky, judging by the fist sized hole in it.
She clicked her tongue in annoyance. "Shithead! I just got it yesterday! I should peel yours from your corpse!" She yelled in an arrogant tone.
"Hmpf! You still have much to learn, junior. Kowtow hundred and fifty times before I make you eat my shit with a teaspoon!" Kentarō shouted while trying to keep his voice serious and renewed his assault with doubled effort, using his new body to the fullest.
"STOP TALKING ABOUT SHIT YOU SHITHEAD!"
He shook off the tap into his good eye, that came along with a vocal screech of a fucking banshee. Still blinded on his left side, he bit into her hand while she tried to withdraw it, with intent to hold her in place. The metallic taste on his tongue only fueled his fervor. Muffled chuckle escaped his lips seeing Kin's shock as Kentarõ held her in place like a petulant child. He used an opening he had created on her right side to deliver the strike to the liver he sought so much, along with a powerful elbow strike from his left to her temple.
She staggered on her feet, and in a heartbeat, she fell to the ground, unconscious.
Oh, did he just… knock her out?
"Huh… I- F-fuck me backwards."
He had finally won.
And damn did it felt rewarding.
"BOOM BI-" While Kentarõ was about to verbally destroy the unconscious girl, he was cut off by a slow, mocking sound of clapping.
"Ara? Do my eyes deceive me, Kentarõ-kun?" Purred Orochimaru, who somehow went unnoticed by any of them. Kentarõ twitched along with his teammates, clearly startled at how the man could conceal his presence. "It would seem you are more than just ready for the upcoming trial."
In an instant, everyone seemed to straighten their backs at Sannin's very own presence. The way he held himself screamed of authority and power as he scanned everyone around, so it was no surprise each one of them treated Snake Sage with respect and fear. Kentarõ too straightened like everyone, even if not genuinely.
Well… like everyone but Kin Tsuchi. Heh.
"Ease yourselves. I came here for you, Kentarō-kun." He directed his chilling gaze at him. "In a few hours I shall depart to the front, as the presence of my clone is not nearly enough anymore. During my absence, you shall conduct laboratory sessions with one of my most trusted and competent underlings. He will find you tomorrow, after your training with the team is done."
He waited a moment to let that sink in before he continued.
"You are to test out various new operations I acquired knowledge of, some that are bound to revolutionize and modernize the way medicine is conducted as of right now." Orochimaru tapped Kentarõ's forehead with his fingers, much to his rising anger. "That would be all. I expect much progress after I return from war, and who knows, maybe I will let you stretch out your wings for a bit. Wouldn't that be interesting, Kentarõ-kun~?"
It was needless to say that Kentarõ did not take kindly to what Sannin considered a funny joke. What to him was violation of the sanctity of the mind, to Orochimaru it must have seemed like nothing but slipping through the pages of a poorly written book.
After all, it was hard to describe his former existence with anything but.
And while rightfully angry, it took no more than a thought to wash the unpleasant feelings away. Orochimaru could taunt him as much as he wished too, because the man he thinks he knows already is a distant and outdated version of his current self.
'Gotta grind some more.'
Kin Tsuchi
While everyone made their way out of the training grounds, limping, groaning, teasing and laughing through the pain; Kin lingered behind. She stayed where she was, sprawled in the ground after giving few lighthearted excuses, forcing herself to breathe evenly as she tried to untangle the mess of thoughts that clawed at her mind.
Her muscles ached from the constant extortion, making it hard to lift any of her limbs up. Yet it was not her body that hurt the most.
It was her pride.
Her confidence as Kunoichi in training, someone meant to stand above your average cannon fodder amongst Orochimaru's pupils, had taken a far nastier blow.
Before meeting Kentarō, she thought she understood what a prodigy looked like. To her, Dosu seemed like a personification of one. Quiet. Distant, with everything coming to him with a sense of ease.
What took her sweat, blood, and sleepless nights, Dosu could mimic with a fraction of her work. Even the genjutsu she meticulously redesigned, he'd unraveled and learned in a single spar. From that very day she vowed to guard any of her abilities from his analytical gaze.
Then Kentarō arrived, and shattered that image in just two weeks.
From a helpless whelp into an insufferable, deadeyed shithead who actually beat her in a spar.
To say she felt like failure would be an understatement. Of course taijutsu wasn't her strongest calling, but for a complete newbie to beat her after so little time?
It screamed of genius.
'Or maybe that's just an excuse.' She thought bitterly. 'Something to justify my own uselessness.'
The doubt sank its claws deep, twisting tighter with every step she took. The future she'd envisioned, one where she ventured out under the Sannin's name, earning fame, fear, and recognition, suddenly felt very fragile and unsure.
Would he even want such a useless thing as a subordinate? One that could not hold off against a newbie?
By the time she forced herself upright, her vision swam. It took what little strength she had left not to collapse again as she dragged herself toward the cell, boots scraping softly against the dirt.
Not once did she look up, focusing her gaze downwards like a beaten dog. She paused at the doorway, fingers curling into trembling fists.
No one had mocked her. No one laughed, and yet, it somehow made it worse.
Because the truth was undeniable; talent existed, and effort alone didn't always bridge the gap. Whatever she did, there was always someone with a talent that did it better.
She reached for a doorknob, only to pause mid-motion.
An exaggerated groan escaped her lips, as she angrily ruffled her head, leaving her hair as a mess of knots.
She turned on her heel, even as her joints protested, and made her way back to the training grounds.
She didn't know if more effort would ever be enough.
She didn't know if she would ever be enough.
Yet she will never know that by standing still.
'Gotta grind some more!'