Tenchi Bridge, four days later.
Mist filled the air. The bridge emerged from the fog, not made of wood, but stone. The stone bridge spanned a canyon, and below it ran a river. The water did not flow; it swallowed. It swallowed every sound from the past four days, swallowed Yamato saying, "We're here," at the bridgehead, swallowed Sakura's rapid breathing. A man stood in the middle of the bridge. Not the spy, but Kabuto Yakushi.
Kabuto Yakushi adjusted his glasses. The lenses gleamed in the mist—not like lamps, but snakes. The snakes were not a color, but a look in his eyes. There was no loyalty in that gaze, no betrayal, only a choice. He chose Orochimaru, not because Orochimaru was stronger, but because Orochimaru's research was more interesting than Sasori's puppets. Interesting was not a reason; it was instinct. Instinct had made him betray Sasori, instinct had brought him to Tenchi Bridge, not to welcome anyone, but to expose them.
"Lord Sasori, I no longer care about you. Because Lord Orochimaru's research is far more interesting than your puppets."
The moment Kabuto finished speaking, someone else appeared in the mist. He had not walked out; he had slid out. What slid out was not a body, but a tongue. The tongue stretched from the fog, wrapped around a bridge pillar, then pulled out a man. The man was not standing, but coiled. Coiled atop that tongue, like a snake. And that was no metaphor. It was Orochimaru.
Orochimaru stood on Tenchi Bridge, his hands hanging at his sides. He was not relaxed; they were sealed. The Third Hokage's Reaper Death Seal had sealed his hands for two years. For two years, he had been unable to use any ninjutsu. But being unable to use ninjutsu did not mean