Orochimaru's Curiosity

Dull politics.

Orochimaru ignored the two people in the office, stepped out on his own, and walked through the long, curved hallway with a low sigh.

Deliberately placing a cat by the pond, then accusing it of stealing fish.

Even if that reason hadn't been pointed out today by that Sahara-kun, it would probably have appeared in the village's public eye at just the right moment, whenever Teacher Sarutobi needed it, wouldn't it?

Teacher Sarutobi's grasp on that man Shimura Danzō was far beyond what ordinary people could imagine.

The fact that Root had planted quite a few agents within the Anbu under the pretext of training was an open secret among Konoha's upper echelons.

After all, those who emerged from Root's inhuman training—or rather, torment—were no longer normal people in any conventional sense.

Most of the time, a single glance was enough to see through their identities.

Yet Teacher Sarutobi always put on an air of knowing nothing, pitiful and innocent.

As if all his power had been hollowed out by others, leaving him helpless.

But every move Shimura Danzō made within Root would always, without warning yet with perfect timing, land in Teacher Sarutobi's hands.

No one knew how many pieces Teacher Sarutobi had planted around Danzō.

And yet Shimura Danzō was completely oblivious to this—his laughable competitive streak and arrogance had blinded him.

"When it comes to tactics, I suppose Teacher Sarutobi is the one to watch."

"Still, that's precisely why."

"As the weaker side, Danzō is allowed to have someone of sufficient weight stand alongside him, so that neither side inadvertently becomes a complete puppet in Teacher Sarutobi's hands."

"Stupid enough to be irritating."

Orochimaru murmured, stopping by the window. He gazed outward at the Hokage Rock, shrouded in the faint light of dawn.

Nearly forty years had passed since the First Hokage's time.

But how many of the dreams of that idealist, who founded Konoha and was unmatched in his era, had actually been realized?

Compared to his own pursuit of truth, the petty scheming on the political stage was so trivial as to be beneath notice.

Still, Orochimaru was a rational man.

He knew that across all of Konoha, there were only three people truly qualified to inherit the title of Fourth Hokage.

Tsunade, Jiraiya, and himself.

Among these three, the only one with any realistic chance of succession was himself.

The reason was also his rationality.

Why did no one ever ask if he even wanted to be Hokage?

Orochimaru thought to himself.

Even the most rational person could have moments when they wanted to be willful.

But out of a simple sense of responsibility, he quietly snuffed out that thought.

It might sound a little funny to say.

At least, up until now.

This man, who had never loved anyone, still loved Konoha deeply.

Even though he couldn't stand many of the things happening in this village, he was still willing to give everything for it—including the life he cherished as if it were a treasure.

"Orochimaru-sama?"

Hearing a voice from the distance, Orochimaru slowly withdrew his gaze and looked toward the figure standing in the darkness.

Sahara Mizu stood quietly in the gap between faint light and shadow, his expression gentle.

"Sahara-kun?"

Orochimaru looked at this man, who seemed far too young, his voice flat. "Still not planning to leave? It's almost dawn."

"Is that so?"

Sahara Mizu's voice remained calm and even, a faint smile on his lips. "I thought it was Orochimaru-sama who wanted me to stay."

"Oh?"

Orochimaru looked at him, his expression still.

But those golden, slit-pupiled eyes flickered with a dangerous light, like a predator signaling a threat.

Sahara Mizu, however, seemed completely unaware, continuing:

"After all, when you heard the word 'Hand Seal-less Ninjutsu' in Minato-kun's account—"

"Your eyes."

"They were just like a real venomous snake."

"Tch."

Orochimaru's tongue, elongated from his soft-body modification, unconsciously slid across the corner of his lips. Suddenly, he broke into a grin, and the killing intent directed at Sahara Mizu, along with his immense chakra, radiated outward without any concealment.

The intimidating pressure radiating from his entire being surged in an instant to a level bordering on illusion.

Interesting.

It was merely a sudden whim.

He very much wanted to test the true measure of this newly risen young man before him.

His left hand formed a single-handed seal.

"Boom—"

Yet, in almost the span of a single thought.

The very instant before, Sahara Mizu, who had been at least ten meters away, now appeared before him with a sharpness that bordered on the extreme, abruptly materializing.

If not for the violently bursting wind swirling around him and his scattered jet-black hair, which tangibly proved this was a real physical phenomenon, Orochimaru might have mistaken that incredible speed for an unprecedented Space-Time Ninjutsu.

In the blink of an eye, the space between them shrank to less than ten centimeters.

At the same time, without him even noticing.

Sahara Mizu's hand had already firmly clamped down on his wrist, interrupting his one-handed seal.

However, Orochimaru's smile did not fade; instead, his interest grew even more intense, and even the look in his eyes when he gazed at Sahara Mizu seemed almost tangible.

"How astonishing, Sahara-kun."

His voice remained as hoarse and low as the scrape of metal: "Your performance far exceeds even my highest expectations."

"If it were not so, how would This Humble One dare to stand before you?"

Sahara Mizu's tone was utterly sincere: "Likewise, only like this can I make you recognize the value of me and my techniques, correct?"

Orochimaru looked at this young man, and a flicker of curiosity stirred within him.

Not curiosity about the other's arrogant attitude or his unexpected strength.

But curiosity about his 'certainty.'

It was a kind of 'certainty' that he was someone who absolutely could not refuse a new technique.

Yet, until now.

This trait had been deeply concealed by him, to the point that even his teacher, Sarutobi Hiruzen, had not truly detected it.

Orochimaru's curiosity suddenly began to grow vigorously.

"What do you want?"

Sahara Mizu's expression slowly sobered: "That depends on what you can offer."

"Of course."

"This is not the place to talk."

"If there is an opportunity, I hope we can discuss it in detail next time."

Orochimaru's smile paused, and he said calmly:

"That's not for you to decide!"

Suddenly, from Orochimaru's sleeve, as he remained locked in confrontation with Sahara Mizu, several black-scaled venomous snakes shot out with lightning speed, lunging fiercely at the young man before him.

At this extremely close range, the speed these snakes unleashed was no less than that of shuriken.

Yet.

Orochimaru's eyes suddenly widened.

The thirteen venomous snakes that had shot out from his sleeves, collar, and the cuffs of his pants all froze in place at the same moment, stopping in Mid-air just a paper's thickness away from Sahara Mizu.

Unable to advance an inch.

Sahara Mizu's smile instead remained calm and indifferent, as if he had anticipated all of this.

"Then, This Humble One will take his leave."

The moment the words fell, a bang sounded.

The young man's form suddenly turned into a puff of smoke and vanished.

From the very beginning, the one confronting Orochimaru had only been a Shadow Clone.

Orochimaru watched his figure disappear into thin air.

Instead, an odd smile inadvertently crept onto his face.

"How astonishing."

"Sahara-kun."

Things have become interesting.