The Old Pervert

After the door opened, Orochimaru walked slowly out of the laboratory. Sunlight filtered through the trees onto his pale skin, and he narrowed his snake-like eyes as he adjusted to natural light for the first time in months.

For the past eight months, he had been utterly absorbed in the research materials Tsukimi had given him on living puppets, along with the finished puppets themselves.

Those unique specimens had given him a wealth of inspiration.

Not only had his research into revitalizing the body yielded preliminary results, but his work on compatibility with Hashirama cells had made enormous progress as well.

"Heh, Tsukimi... I wonder when I'll get to study your body?"

Orochimaru murmured to himself, his voice thick with undisguised interest.

He had never stopped thinking about this student of his with such unusual abilities. He had always wanted to study him, but he had yet to find the chance.

Orochimaru had not yet become the deviant he would be in the future. Granted, he was already quite deviant, but he had not joined Danzo in abducting village children for Hashirama cell transplant experiments as he had in the original timeline. He still had the tiniest shred of a moral boundary.

Without lingering any longer, Orochimaru flickered away from the Forest of Death and headed back to his residence.

His home stood in a quiet corner of Konoha and rarely saw visitors, making it ideal for undisturbed research. After eight months without anyone tending it, weeds had sprung up along the walls, and a thin layer of dust coated the steps.

Before he reached the courtyard gate, Orochimaru sensed a figure waiting outside, as still as a statue. The visitor had clearly been there for some time.

"Lord Orochimaru." The Anbu ninja's voice was low and devoid of emotion