Transformation of Mind
"This crappy mission wasted a whole week, and the reward was pitiful,"
Bai Ye muttered wearily as he pushed open the gate of the base.
The mission had no precise location, forcing him to spend most of his time tracking down the enemy. Ironically, the actual battle had lasted no more than thirty minutes.
It had been nearly three months since he left Konoha under Orochimaru's guidance. Now, it was December of Konoha Year 41. The new year was approaching.
A thin layer of snow covered the ground surrounding the base. The light snowfall had begun while Bai Ye was away, marking the area's first snow of the season.
"I'm back!"
His voice rang loudly as he stepped inside, the sound waves shaking snow loose from the trees nearby.
"You idiot! It's the middle of the night—do you want to die yelling like that?"
The voice was familiar and almost comforting. A soft whoosh followed, and a white blur—clearly a pillow—struck Bai Ye square in the face.
"I learned that from you, you know. Don't forget who used to bang on my door every time he came back late."
Standing at her doorway in bunny-print pajamas, Mitarashi Anko (nicknamed Hongdou) yawned and rubbed at her half-lidded eyes. She looked exhausted.
Since their last assignment, Bai Ye had been operating solo, while Anko accompanied Orochimaru on other missions. Their schedules rarely overlapped—especially during late-night returns like this—so they had developed a habit of teasing each other when they crossed paths.
Despite her strong protests, Orochimaru had assigned Anko to a room adjacent to his. She claimed it made her feel safer. Still, Orochimaru himself rarely slept there. Instead, he remained in the base's upper levels, likely still holed up in his lab.
"Are you stupid? What if you ruined my clothes?"
Bai Ye caught the pillow with one hand and smoothly peeled off his mission-worn clothes with the other, tossing them toward Anko.
That woke her up fully. She frowned in distaste, gingerly pinching the bloodstained garments between two fingers and holding them at arm's length.
A strong metallic stench of blood still clung to them.
"You're the one who insisted on the bet. Don't try to weasel out now," Bai Ye said nonchalantly.
Clad in only a pair of shorts, his pale, well-proportioned figure was exposed to the cold air. Unlike many shinobi, Bai Ye wasn't heavily muscled. His lean physique remained unscarred thanks to rapid regeneration techniques, likely tied to his modified chakra network or spiritual body.
"You know it's the middle of the night, right...?" Anko grumbled, watching him walk by. She felt a twinge of envy—despite the harshness of shinobi life, Bai Ye's skin remained flawless. Her own body bore the signs of rigorous daily training.
"Whatever. I'm taking a bath."
He dropped the pillow lightly on her head as he passed, disappearing into the shadows.
"Honestly... can't we just get along like normal people?"
She sighed, rubbing her face. "Ugh, I'll break out tomorrow for sure."
Back in her room, Anko tossed Bai Ye's clothes aside and collapsed onto her bed with a groan.
---
Elsewhere, Bai Ye soaked in the warm water of the hot spring, his pale head just above the surface, a white towel folded neatly on it.
"Will I get to see them for New Year's?"
He recalled his brief return to Konoha not long ago, when he and Anko had been given a few days' leave. He had used the opportunity to meet old friends who weren't actively deployed.
Yue and Yuyan, however, hadn't returned. No one seemed to know where they were stationed now.
He'd seen Might Guy during that trip, too. But he hadn't mentioned anything serious. The moment had passed.
Spending time under Orochimaru's watch had gradually changed something in him. His thoughts, once filled with hesitation and idealism, had begun to shift.
The very first mission Orochimaru gave him involved an assassination—his first brush with killing deliberately. At the time, Bai Ye had felt deeply conflicted, even repulsed.
In his past life, he'd never even killed a chicken. He came from a peaceful era where death was distant, sanitized, hidden behind closed doors.
Even in this world, he had only killed in self-defense—once when he passed out immediately afterward, unaware he'd even struck the killing blow. Another time during an escape, where adrenaline and fear clouded his awareness. In both cases, he hadn't fully processed what had happened.
His early missions under the Third Hokage's oversight had been low-risk and relatively simple. Very little combat. No killing.
But Orochimaru's assignments were different—carefully curated, morally skewed, and deliberately unsettling.
Each target was a documented criminal: slavers, human traffickers, traitors, sadists. The files on them were thick with unforgivable sins, the kind that stirred hatred just by reading.
The man from this mission had no ninja training. A civilian leader of a trafficking ring. After reading the dossier, Bai Ye had infiltrated his hideout and eliminated him without hesitation.
Only when warm blood splattered his face did Bai Ye snap out of his fugue. But strangely, he felt no revulsion. No guilt. Just clarity.
It scared him how easy it had been.
Looking back, he realized he had lulled himself into thinking this world was peaceful, simply because he had not yet witnessed its cruelty firsthand.
But this mission reminded him—violently—that he was in the world of Naruto, a brutal shinobi era defined by constant wars and mortal stakes.
During these past months, Orochimaru hadn't taught him any jutsu directly. Instead, he kept assigning missions, each darker than the last.
They were tests. Trials to wear down his conscience. To replace hesitation with resolve.
At first, Bai Ye thought it was normal—just the life of a working ninja. But as the pattern repeated, even the most naive would catch on.
Eventually, he understood.
Orochimaru wasn't just testing his skills. He was molding him.
And Bai Ye let it happen.
He accepted the missions willingly. He understood what was at stake.
It was better to adapt now than hesitate later—hesitation that could cost his comrades their lives.
In a world like this, especially during wartime, there was no room for softness. No room for mercy.
Just survival.
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