Chapter 21

"Whoosh!" Saitama flashed into the battle, his lightning blade intercepting a Sand ninja. As the formidable opponent sized up the boy, half his body stained with blood, the currents crackling around him suddenly brought a piece of intelligence to mind: the Konoha wielder of the lightning blade who had single-handedly destroyed their supply line!

The Sand ninja narrowed his eyes, forcing himself to remain calm. If this boy truly was the Konoha ninja mentioned in the reports, he could not afford to underestimate him.

Amid the clang of metal, Uchiha Rin broke free from the siege of three opponents. The longer he fought, the fiercer he became, gradually gaining the upper hand.

A cold gleam flashed. Saitama's Sharingan locked onto his enemy's wrist. With a crackle, lightning raced along the blade and seared a burn mark across the Sand ninja's chest. His opponent stiffened briefly before a sudden burst of chakra blasted the current apart.

"Court death!" The Sand ninja seized an opening in Saitama's defense and drove his knee straight at his chest and abdomen. With a dull thud, Saitama staggered back. Wiping the blood from his lips, his gaze darkened. The crackling Lightning Release chakra around him drew everyone's attention.

"Die!" He sheathed his sword in a reverse motion, then surged forward barehanded with a sudden burst of speed. The instant his heavy fist smashed into the enemy's face, several broken teeth flew out with a spray of blood.

"Clang—" A kunai met the lightning blade, its blue glow blocking the current from passing through. Saitama's breathing grew heavier. That previous burst had granted him a momentary increase in speed, but it had consumed a great deal of stamina.

Fire Style: Phoenix Flower Technique! Taking the opportunity, Uchiha Rin broke through the encirclement, forcing back two pursuers with scorching fireballs. Ignoring the furious shouts behind him, he rushed straight toward Saitama's fight. The two Sand ninja hurried after him, only to see Saitama's blade moving even faster, pinning his opponent firmly in place.

Amid the swirling lightning, cold sweat formed on the Sand ninja's forehead. Uchiha Rin arrived before him, battle intent blazing in his eyes—this deadlocked struggle had finally reached a turning point.

The clash of metal rang out abruptly as Uchiha Rin flung out a kunai to seal off the Sand ninja's retreat. Saitama's blade spun and flashed, pressing forward step by step until his opponent was cornered.

"Urgh!" The Sand ninja was struck in the right arm, blood gushing out as his combat strength plummeted.

Fire Style: Great Fireball Technique! Using the recoil of his ninjutsu to accelerate, Uchiha Rin closed in and hurled a blazing fireball at the pursuers behind him.

His blood-red pupils spun rapidly as Saitama gave his enemy no chance to catch his breath. A flash of steel opened another wound across the Sand ninja's chest, and terror seeped into his bloodshot eyes.

Stepping forward, Saitama drove into his opponent's guard. As the kunai grazed his cheek, he tilted his head and clamped down on the enemy's wrist, blue arcs of electricity racing up the arm.

"!" The amplified current made the Sand ninja convulse violently. A cold flash followed as the ninja blade pierced his abdomen.

"Farewell." Amid the soft murmur, Uchiha Rin's kunai sliced precisely across his throat.

"Nice teamwork." Lin smiled as he sheathed his sword. Saitama raised an eyebrow helplessly—this was clearly stealing credit.

The final battle ended in a draw. Orochimaru and Rasa had both been badly wounded, and the two great ninja villages returned to their standoff. Saitama was secretly astonished: Rasa, who should have been defeated and killed according to his memories, was now actually able to match Orochimaru evenly?

"Made up your mind?" Lin crossed his arms.

"Yeah. I'm applying for a transfer back." Saitama looked toward the campfires. "There's nothing left here worth training for."

"What reason will you use? Injury?" Lin studied the boy who had volunteered for the front lines several months ago.

"Does an Uchiha need a reason?" Saitama chuckled and looked up. His seven-year-old body was already nearly one and a half meters tall, and the growth rate stimulated by chakra drew plenty of attention. He welcomed it—at least no one called him a little runt anymore.

"Heh." Lin smiled faintly after hearing Saitama out.

"Fine. Shisui has recently started taking missions on his own too. When you return, you can be with him." Lin reached out, rested a hand on Saitama's shoulder, and gave it a light pat.

He had to admit that though Saitama was young, his talent was astonishing. Their strength was nearly equal, and if they truly fought to the death, they would likely only end up mutually wounded. After all, Lin did not know the nearly monstrous ninjutsu-body technique Saitama used.

"Go tell Lord Orochimaru. He mentioned wanting to see you this morning."

Lin withdrew his hand and turned away without the slightest hesitation.

Saitama remained where he was, lost in thought.

What could Orochimaru want from him? His performance in the last battle had made every Konoha ninja who witnessed it acknowledge Saitama's title as an Uchiha genius, while also proving that he possessed strength no weaker than a jonin's.

After the battle, Orochimaru had taken quite a liking to him, and their interactions had increased somewhat, though they had always remained limited to exchanges between superior and subordinate.

"I'll know when I get there. Why overthink it?" Saitama stopped dwelling on it, slung his sword at his side, and headed directly for Orochimaru's tent—a conspicuous green commander's tent.

He encountered quite a few ninja along the way. Saitama gave them cold nods, and they were already used to it, not finding him arrogant. At least he responded, didn't he?

Standing outside the tent, Saitama was wondering how to get Orochimaru's attention when a voice came from within.

"It's Saitama, isn't it? Come in." A low, magnetic male voice sounded, calm and utterly without emotion.

"Rustle—" Saitama lifted the curtain and walked inside.

The tent was dimly lit. Having just entered, Saitama took a moment to adjust, and his vision briefly sank into darkness.

He narrowed his eyes and looked ahead—a figure was seated cross-legged there.

"Lord Orochimaru." Saitama lowered his head slightly, walked over, and stopped.

Orochimaru studied him with interest, the corners of his lips lifting almost imperceptibly into a faint smile.

With his pale face and deep-set gaze, Saitama said nothing more and quietly waited for him to speak.

"Still so reserved, Saitama?" Seeing him stop two meters away, Orochimaru lightly licked his lips, his gaze burning.

He was deeply interested in this young Uchiha genius. Neither his strength nor his potential could be faulted.

"Did Lord Orochimaru need something from me?" At Orochimaru's gesture, Saitama sat cross-legged on the cushion to the right.

"I merely wanted to chat with you. Is that not allowed?" Orochimaru's gaze was intensely invasive as he stared directly at Saitama.

"Of course it is." Saitama did not back down, meeting his eyes and seeing his own reflection in those snake-like pupils.

"Saitama-kun, you are truly fascinating. At first, you were merely one Uchiha among many who interested me slightly. Now, you have become the one who fascinates me most." Orochimaru's hoarse voice carried a playful tone, the purple gem at his earlobe swaying softly as he tilted his head.

"I'm honored by your favor." Saitama's expression remained unchanged. In those snake eyes, he saw no filthy desire, only pure appreciation—at least, that was his judgment.

"Have you considered becoming my disciple? You are exactly the right age." Orochimaru was so direct that it was almost **. When they had first met, he had said that if this boy could walk off the battlefield alive, he would not mind forging such a connection.

"Would that be appropriate?" Saitama stared at him. As the Third Hokage's right-hand man, taking an Uchiha into his fold would effectively draw him into the Hokage faction, would it not?

"Why not?" Orochimaru did not even raise an eyebrow.

"You should remember that I am an Uchiha." The boy's lips carried a calmness beyond his years.

"Saitama-kun should also remember that I am one of the Sannin." Orochimaru found it amusing. Of course he knew about the conflict between the Hokage faction and the Uchiha, but so what? He was Orochimaru.

"It would be an honor. Unfortunately, I fear I have no time to receive your instruction in the near future." Saitama was genuinely surprised. Though he had long known that Orochimaru had already begun researching forbidden techniques during this period, according to the original timeline, he would defect no later than the year after next.

"No matter. I heard you applied to leave the front lines? If you change your mind, you may come find me anytime." His eerie golden eyes glimmered in the dim tent, and the purple eyeshadow extending to the sides of his nose made his smile especially sinister.

"Thank you for your kindness."

As Saitama turned away, a chill like being watched by a venomous snake swept over the back of his neck. That all-seeing gaze remained etched in his memory for a long time.

"What a treasure..." Orochimaru's tongue swept over his pale lips. He seemed to see what the boy would become in the future—what kind of brilliance would such an Uchiha bloom into?

As the tent curtain shifted, moonlight edged Saitama's departing figure in silver. When darkness closed in again, Orochimaru sat alone in the shadows, an unfathomable smile at his lips.

"Whew—" Taking a deep breath of the outside air, Saitama immediately felt his entire body relax. Orochimaru had not brought him any real pressure; what had truly kept him tense was the burden his own mind had conjured from nothing.

"It's time to leave." After sweeping his gaze over the entire camp, Saitama realized it was time to return to the village and make preparations. The end of Konoha's forty-fifth year was close at hand.

"Are you really going back, Saitama?" The silver-haired youth with a sword at his waist picked at his ear absentmindedly, acting as though he had not heard the question.

"Hey! Show me at least some respect!" Saki ground his molars and **. He had only learned the news at the very last moment, which struck him as extremely strange—he did not believe that Saitama, who had swept through the battlefield without resistance, would choose to withdraw from the front lines now.

"Yeah, I'm leaving immediately anyway. Do you have anything else to say?" Knowing that Saki's taciturn exterior hid a chatterbox nature, Saitama deliberately did not take the bait, certain the other boy would quiet down on his own.

"Forget it. You have your own plans." Saki shrugged dejectedly. Having fought side by side several times, he had come to truly see Saitama as a companion, and he knew that once this boy made a decision, it was difficult to sway him.

"Take care." Saitama raised a hand and patted the other's shoulder. They were about the same height despite the nearly half-decade gap in age. Perhaps Saki, being a commoner, had suffered from poor nutrition? He was only an inch or so taller than Saitama.

"I hope we meet again." The departing boy's ** swayed lightly, casting a long shadow.

"You too, Saitama!" Saki's soft words scattered into the wind, but they could not escape a ninja's sharp hearing.

After more than half a month, Saitama finally returned to Konoha with the escort unit accompanying the wounded.

The sentiment of "leaving home young and returning old" did not apply to him. He had been away from the village for less than a year, far from the day of returning in glory to find everything changed beyond recognition.

After completing the handover for the escort mission, he set foot on a familiar road. The path home carried an unexpected warmth. Though he felt he had not been gone long, the life-and-death trials he had endured during that time were enough for an ordinary person to live through several lifetimes.

It was already after three in the afternoon when he reached the village. By the time he completed all the formalities, dusk had begun to wash over the streets. Konoha was still as it had been, only quieter than before. Even the commercial district had few people about.

"Creak—" When he pushed open the gate to the residence, the light from the kitchen met his eyes.

"Is that Shisui-kun? Is something wrong at this hour? Saitama hasn't returned yet, but I'm doing fine."

Uchiha Kaori's voice came from inside. At this hour, the only visitor she had received lately was the Uchiha boy who often kept her son company.

The kitchen door creaked open, and Granny Xiang, wearing an apron and carrying a tray of food, froze in the doorway. The setting sun dyed the courtyard honey-gold, as if time had stopped at that moment.

"Oh my, it's Saitama!" The seaweed rice balls on the tray trembled slightly, and the old woman's fingers shook faintly as she covered her mouth.

"Granny Xiang." The bald youth broke into a smile and strode forward to embrace her stooped figure. Grandmother and grandson without blood ties held each other in the fading light, and he could smell the familiar scent of miso on her.

Her aged palms stroked the muscles of his back. "You've grown taller... and stronger too..." Her choked voice mixed with a sigh. "Granny almost didn't recognize you..."

"But Saitama will always be Granny's Saitama." The battlefield's killing god spoke now in a voice gentle enough to melt ice.

"I was just making dinner." The old woman wiped the corners of her eyes and pulled free of the embrace, only to stuff the tray into his hands. "Have a little something first."

The youth followed her into the kitchen filled with the warmth of cooking smoke. The seaweed around the rice balls still held a trace of heat.

The wooden posts at the training ground were covered in scorch marks. Saitama braced his hands on his knees and breathed heavily. Sweat darkened the dirt beneath him, and his bodysuit was already soaked through.

"The activation effect of Lightning Release chakra still isn't enough..." The electricity flickering at his fingertips brightened and dimmed as he stared at the target's pierced center. Not far away, blackened wooden posts emitted thin wisps of smoke, and the scent of ozone hung in the air.

Uchiha Mori had watched with folded arms for quite some time. "Even the Cloud Village's Lightning Release body techniques are nothing more than this." His clansman uncle's Sharingan reflected the youth's lean waistline. "If your chakra reserves can keep up, this move can serve as a trump card."

"Recently, the clan..." Saitama sheathed his tachi behind his back, the scrape of metal startling several sparrows into flight. Sweat dripped from his chin onto the guard of his blade, reflecting his slightly narrowed eyes.

Saitama walked slowly, feeling the rhythm of his body. His breathing gradually steadied, his sweat slowly subsided, and his stamina recovered quickly.

"This body's natural physical qualities are quite outstanding. After chakra cell activation, the improvement is even more obvious, and its recovery speed after training is astonishing."

He recalled that Uchiha Fugaku had come looking for him before, seemingly wanting to discuss something. Fugaku was still in his office at the moment and had not yet left.