"You've been getting rather bold lately."
In the dimly lit depths of Root headquarters, Danzō Shimura—Konoha's infamous "Scapegoat King"—scowled at the man standing before him.
"What exactly are you trying to do?"
A shadow crossed Danzō's eyes as he asked again. The research on Hashirama's cells, along with the experiment to transplant them into his own body, had already been completed. Yet the other man's demand for test subjects only grew stronger.
Even the monumental task of cultivating a ninja capable of controlling Wood Release had been accomplished. Tenzō was proof of that.
And still, Orochimaru continued his daily experiments.
From that dark, secret laboratory of his came screams so chilling that even Danzō, hardened as he was, felt his scalp tingle.
"To live. To live longer."
Orochimaru extended his grotesque tongue, a manic smile twisting his face.
The Living Corpse Reincarnation was nearly complete!
He knew he would be exposed sooner or later, but before that happened, he intended to perfect the ninjutsu he had created.
For immortality.
For survival!
From the Second Shinobi World War and his battle against Hanzō of the Salamander, to leading Konoha's forces in their desperate defense at Kikyō Pass—he had done more than enough for Konoha.
Yet what had he gained from it?
Respect?
That faded with time and meant nothing of substance.
Along his path of war, he had seen far too much death—his parents dying on missions, and one by one, the comrades beside him falling at Kikyō Pass.
The meaning of life, he realized, was to live simply for the sake of living.
Only by living long could he study ninjutsu without end, to do what he loved.
Only by living long could he become stronger.
In short, he had reached enlightenment—his own personal creed:
Only by living can one continue to create.
"I won't stay in Konoha much longer. Once the experiment's finished, Sensei will surely take notice."
Drawing himself back from his thoughts, Orochimaru's expression grew calm once more.
"I'll contact you when I find a suitable place."
"Oh, and I need someone's file—all of it."
A file?
In Konoha? Besides Itachi Uchiha, there's someone else who interests you?
Danzō raised an eyebrow. "Who?"
"Hakken Yoru. The kid adopted by my adorable apprentice."
...
The night was dark and gusty.
A figure from the Mitarashi household, wrapped in a black cloak, returned to the training grounds he had used earlier that day.
When training had ended, he'd unleashed that one sword strike. His stamina had finally reached its limit, and he collapsed from exhaustion.
In the end, it was Itachi who, despite his own fatigue, had carried him home.
After all, he was only five years old.
With just a small amount of chakra drawn from within and what little physical strength remained, he had barely managed to activate the special ability before completely draining himself.
But he wasn't sure how powerful that strike had been.
He only remembered the rockery splitting in two before crashing down.
After a night's rest, his energy had returned, and Hakken was eager to test the true destructive power of his technique.
That mattered a great deal.
In Konoha, one couldn't just use their techniques freely.
You always had to stay alert—someone was always watching from the shadows.
Like the Third Hokage, who used his crystal ball to casually peek into the women's bath.
So, using his special ability to test his attack power during the day had been the last time.
It wasn't about hiding his strength.
It was about catching everyone off guard when the time came for him to show his real combat ability.
Playing dumb to catch the strong?
No, nothing like that—he simply didn't want unnecessary trouble.
Although the Fourth Hokage, Minato Namikaze, was officially in charge, the Third Hokage hadn't chosen to retire quietly. Instead, he still lingered in the Hokage's office, subtly pulling the strings of power.
Heh, one village, two Hokage making decisions together.
Everyone knew exactly what that meant.
The Third hadn't truly stepped down.
Even appointing Minato as the Fourth Hokage had been an act of necessity.
The Third Shinobi World War had drained Konoha far too deeply, and under Danzō's pressure, Hiruzen Sarutobi had relinquished his title—at least in name.
But the authority still rested firmly in his hands.
And Hakken, still growing and developing, had no intention of drawing the attention of Konoha's upper echelon too soon.
Landing lightly in the middle of the training ground, he looked at the collapsed rockery before him. Running his fingers along the perfectly smooth cut surface, Hakken's lips curved into a faint smile.
That strike—he had infused it with the Wind chakra nature, pushing the cutting power of his chakra blade to its very limit.
The destructive force was impressive. With that level of sharpness, no ordinary weapon could possibly withstand it.
As he grew older, the shortcomings in his stamina and chakra reserves would naturally be compensated for. When that time came, the power of his "Normal Slash" trait would multiply endlessly!
Satisfied, Hakken nodded and rose to his feet.
He now had a clear grasp of his ability's lethality—and a rough understanding of his own combat strength.
As the King of Normal Attacks, inheriting the template of Zaraki Kenpachi, how far his strength could go depended entirely on whether he was willing to stake his life on the fight.
Only in real battle could he unleash his true power—
The strength of a demon from the world of Bleach!
After clearing the traces left on the ground, Hakken was just about to leave when a sudden, chilling aura made him turn sharply, his hand instinctively gripping the hilt of his blade.
Dark. Wild. Sinister.
In all of Konoha, there was only one man with such an aura.
Orochimaru.
"Your perception is impressive."
As the figure slowly stepped out from behind the tree, Hakken's pupils narrowed slightly.
"It's not perception. When one beast encounters another, they both sense it."
A beast, huh?
This kid's description of me… how fitting.
...
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