The underground laboratory.
The stark white surgical light cast a cold halo over the operating table. The air carried the smell of disinfectant and a distinctive culture medium.
In the enormous culture tanks in the corner, several unfinished humanoid forms slowly rose and sank in pale green nutrient solution, tubing winding around them like vines.
On the surgical bed, the black-haired woman slowly propped himself up on his elbows, his movements stiff, almost newborn.
Long hair spilled over his shoulders like a waterfall, its tips brushing the cold metal edge of the operating table.
He lowered his head, his gaze sweeping over his newborn body-the work he and the Second, Tobirama Senju, had sculpted together using cells and cloning technology.
Its skin was smooth, its musculature well proportioned, and it brimmed with vigorous life, utterly unlike his previous vessel, which had begun to deteriorate under the effects of Living Corpse Reincarnation.
"How does it feel?"
A low, steady voice sounded.
It came from a chair in the shadows on the other side of the room.
A Shadow Clone of the Second, Tobirama Senju, left behind at the laboratory, sat quietly there.
He wore his signature dark blue layered armor, its white fur collar framing his sharply defined jaw.
He observed every minute movement Orochimaru made, from the trembling of his fingertips to the rhythm of his breathing, missing no sign that might suggest instability or rejection.
Orochimaru did not answer immediately.
He raised a hand, slowly spreading his fingers beneath the light, then clenching them, feeling the unfamiliar yet familiar strength as muscles and tendons worked together.
The heartbeat in his chest was steady and strong, the rush of blood clearly audible in his ears. He drew a gentle breath, and air flooded his lungs with a cool sting.
"A