The air in the Hokage's office felt a little heavy.
Hiruzen Sarutobi sat behind his desk, piled high with documents, leisurely smoking his pipe.
White smoke curled up from the bowl, swirled in the afternoon sunlight, then dispersed.
His expression was calm, even carrying a trace of his usual warmth, but his eyes...
Deep within those eyes, which had seen too much life and death, too many conspiracies, something else lay hidden.
The door was gently pushed open without a sound.
A figure slipped inside silently, as naturally as a snake and as lightly as a shadow.
It was Orochimaru.
He still wore his jonin vest, his pale, long hair draped over his shoulders. His golden, slit-pupiled eyes gleamed coldly in the dim office.
He walked up to the desk, stopped, and inclined his head slightly.
"Teacher Sarutobi."
His voice was low, with its distinctive rasp, but clear.
Hiruzen Sarutobi lifted his eyelids, glanced at him, then lowered his eyes and continued smoking. Only after a few seconds did he speak. "How was it?"
A question without context.
But Orochimaru knew what he was asking.
"Uchiha Makoto." Orochimaru spoke the name as casually as if discussing what he had eaten for lunch. "Six years old, the orphan of ordinary Uchiha Clan members. His parents died in the Second Shinobi World War. No noteworthy background."
He paused, seemingly weighing his words.
"His talent for taijutsu... is decent. His chakra control surpasses that of his peers. His combat instincts are reasonably sharp."
"That's all?" Hiruzen Sarutobi asked.
"That's all," Orochimaru said. "Just a somewhat gifted Uchiha child. The Uchiha always produce a few such children in every generation."
He spoke casually, almost dismissively.
As though he had not been the one who had tested the boy with a swarm of snakes at the Training Ground, pressured him with a kage-level aura, and finally offered him a way to get in touch and a promise of early graduation.
Hiruzen Sarutobi said nothing, merely taking another puff.
He slowly exhaled smoke, obscuring his expression.
Just then, the air in a shadowed corner of the office warped slightly.
A figure appeared there without a sound, as though seeping out of the wall.
He wore black, with bandages wrapped around half his face. His single exposed eye glinted darkly in the shadows.
Shimura Danzō.
He stood there, looking at neither Orochimaru nor Hiruzen Sarutobi. Instead, he stared at a point in empty space, his voice cold and hard, like rusty metal scraping.
"Just somewhat gifted?"
He repeated Orochimaru's words with undisguised mockery.
"Orochimaru, since when has your judgment been so poor?"
Orochimaru did not turn around. He did not even raise his eyelids.
He merely gave a soft chuckle, as though he had heard something ridiculous.
Danzo paid it no mind and continued, his voice especially grating in the quiet office.
"The Uchiha Clan has already produced two geniuses in this generation. Shisui Uchiha, and now Uchiha Makoto."
He paused, turning his single eye toward Hiruzen Sarutobi.
"Hiruzen, we cannot leave a prospect like this unchecked. The Uchiha Clan is already unruly and difficult to control. With geniuses emerging one after another, who can guarantee they won't start harboring ambitions they shouldn't?"
Hiruzen Sarutobi still said nothing, simply smoking in silence.
Danzo took half a step forward, lowering his voice, yet making it all the more oppressive.
"Why not hand him over to me? Root needs fresh blood. I'll 'train' him properly and make him Konoha's sharpest blade. At the same time, we can keep constant watch on the Uchiha Clan's movements and stop trouble before it starts."
When he said "train," something cloying and unpleasant crept into his tone.
Like a snake licking its prey.
Orochimaru finally moved.
He turned his head slightly and glanced at Danzo from the corner of his eye. A faint, almost imperceptible chill flashed through his golden, slit-pupiled eyes.
"Elder Danzo."
His voice remained level, yet somehow carried a different edge.
"I've already decided to take Uchiha Makoto as my apprentice."
One sentence.
The office instantly fell so quiet that the faint crackle of burning tobacco could be heard.
Danzo's single eye abruptly narrowed.
Hiruzen Sarutobi's smoking motion also paused, almost imperceptibly.
Orochimaru wanted to take an apprentice?
An Uchiha, at that?
Who was Orochimaru? A disciple of the Third Hokage, one of the legendary Sannin, and one of Konoha's greatest geniuses.
Since when had he become interested in taking apprentices?
And an Uchiha, no less.
The relationship between the Uchiha Clan and the village's leadership was already delicate.
As a core member of the Hokage's faction, Orochimaru suddenly wanted to take an Uchiha child as his apprentice. What lay behind that...
Danzo's expression visibly darkened.
He stared at Orochimaru, emotions roiling in his single eye.
Surprise, anger, suspicion, and an icy sense of having been slighted.
"Orochimaru." He spoke slowly, each word seeming to squeeze through his teeth. "Do you know what you're saying?"
"Perfectly well." Orochimaru turned back, no longer looking at him but facing Hiruzen Sarutobi instead. His tone returned to its earlier indifference. "His talent caught my eye. I believe he is qualified to inherit some of what I have to offer. Nothing more."
"Nothing more?" Danzo sneered. "An Uchiha, inheriting what you 'have to offer'? Orochimaru, when did you become so naive? Or perhaps..."
He left the sentence unfinished, but his meaning was obvious.
Or perhaps you, Orochimaru, want to establish ties with the Uchiha too?
The air in the office grew heavier.
Like congealed glue, so thick it was hard to breathe.
Hiruzen Sarutobi finally put down his pipe.
He gently tapped it against the ashtray with a soft click.
Then he raised his head, looking at Orochimaru, then at Danzo.
His gaze swept over their faces before finally settling on Danzo.
"Danzo."
His voice was low, but carried unquestionable weight.
"Since Orochimaru has already decided to take him as his apprentice, we'll proceed as he wishes."
Danzo whipped his head around, his single eye filled with disbelief.
"Hiruzen! You-!"
"Enough."
Hiruzen Sarutobi cut him off. His tone remained calm, but now held an authority that brooked no argument.
"Uchiha Makoto is a Konoha shinobi, and so is Orochimaru. There is nothing more natural than a master taking an apprentice. As for Root..."
He paused and looked at Danzo.
"Konoha needs Root, but it does not need to turn every genius into a member of Root. This matter ends here."
This matter ends here.
Those words brought the brief argument to a close.
Danzo stood there, his chest rising and falling slightly.
His single eye fixed on Hiruzen Sarutobi, then swept over Orochimaru before finally settling on empty space.
He was holding back.
Swallowing his anger, enduring this public rebuff, and accepting Orochimaru's almost provocative act of snatching the boy out from under him.
Only thin wisps of white smoke drifting from the pipe remained in the office.
Along with the undercurrents silently surging between the three men.
Hiruzen Sarutobi picked up his pipe again and drew deeply on it. Smoke rose, blurring his expression.
He slowly exhaled, narrowing his eyes slightly.
"Orochimaru."
"Yes."
"Since you're taking an apprentice, teach him properly. Don't let the boy's talent go to waste."
"Yes."
"And..." Hiruzen Sarutobi paused. "Find a time to bring him to see me."
"Understood."
That ended the conversation.
Orochimaru bowed slightly, turned, and silently left the office.
Danzo remained where he stood, like a cold statue.
Several seconds passed before he gave a cold snort. His figure gradually faded, merging back into the shadows.
Hiruzen Sarutobi was alone in the office once more.
He sat there, taking one puff after another.
Amid the swirling smoke, his gaze was distant and complicated.
Before you continue