A Disciple's Bequest, the Twelve Talismans

The hospital room was deathly silent.

Orochimaru stared blankly at the frozen smile on his mother's face, unconsciously stroking the little white snake around his arm. Bewildered, he asked, "Mother... is she dead?"

"Yes."

Toji stood with his back to them, his shadow stretching long beneath the slanting sunset.

There was no emotion in his voice. "Your mother is dead."

Orochimaru's eyes were vacant.

He had only ever seen the word "death" in books and had never understood what it meant. Whenever he had asked his mother before, she had deliberately avoided the subject. Only now did he truly understand the meaning of death.

Why was life so fragile?

Orochimaru could not understand. His thoughts ground to a halt.

"My condolences."

Hashirama sighed softly. With his hands behind his back, he shook his head and left the sorrow-filled hospital room.

Tobirama watched Toji's retreating back, his expression calm. He was an outsider with no connection to Matsumoto Kazuka, so naturally, her death did not make him sad.

What truly caught his attention was the voice. Eyes were the windows to the soul, and so was one's voice.

Just now, Tobirama had heard a bleak sorrow in Toji's voice, the kind of grief greater than a dead heart. When someone suffered the devastating loss of a loved one, they might not immediately drown in sorrow. Instead, at some unguarded moment in the future, they would remember it again and fall into a drowning terror and confusion.

But Tobirama had still heard the sorrow in Toji's voice.

The opportunity to corrupt Toji had arrived.

"Matsumoto Kazuka's parents died before the ninja villages were established. In Konoha, she had no roots."

"Once a master, always a father. Since she was once my disciple, I intend to take her body back and bury her