The moment those words left his mouth, Orochimaru's serpentine pupils thinned into two razor-sharp slits.
At the same instant, every piece of information he had ever gathered on the man before him flashed through his mind.
Aizen Sōsuke…
Same generation as Kakashi. Other than decent learning ability, he was unremarkable in every way—neither his talent, physique, nor background stood out.
He graduated from the Academy at nine, then joined Konoha Hospital as a medical-nin.
During the Third Great Ninja War, he achieved no notable feats, surviving the frontlines simply by remaining behind as a medic. At twelve, he was promoted to chūnin.
After the war, he entered research work, and a few years ago, through experimental studies involving Yin Release and Kekkei Genkai development, he was promoted to jōnin.
By the standards of Konoha's younger generation, his résumé was impressive enough—but to someone like Orochimaru, it was ordinary to the point of being dull.
Especially since Aizen showed no bloodline ability of note. He was not someone worthy of attention.
Could that be exactly why he slipped past his notice?
That thought flickered through Orochimaru's mind, a spark of curiosity flashing behind his golden eyes.
"Who exactly are you?" he asked quietly. "A spy? A sleeper agent? A runaway from a Kekkei Genkai clan? Or perhaps… an ambitious man hiding in obscurity?"
To do all of this with such a plain background—there was only one explanation. This man, like Kabuto, must have discovered his own extraordinary talent and insight from a young age.
Or perhaps, he had received some kind of secret training that allowed him to conceal himself from everyone's eyes.
An impressive young man indeed.
Orochimaru's eyes narrowed slightly. A hint of admiration flickered there—along with the deepest, most chilling intent to kill.
"Just an insignificant nobody," Aizen replied. His calm tone showed not a trace of the tension one would expect from someone standing before a Sannin.
"To think someone as distinguished as you would remember my name—that alone is an honor."
"You discovered the Wood Release subjects, guided my movements, blinded Root and Anbu, and lured me here…" Orochimaru's voice was measured, even as he began to close the distance between them with slow, deliberate steps.
"A nameless nobody could never have done all that."
"You flatter me," Aizen said with a soft, almost bashful smile—so natural that he could have been any ordinary young man.
Orochimaru ignored the response and continued, voice low and probing.
"When did all of this begin?"
The hidden Wood Release experiments that not even he, a direct participant, had detected.
The obfuscation of intelligence from both Root and Anbu; the invisible hand that guided his every move; the attempt to seize the data and resources he had left behind—
Just imagining the sheer effort and precision required for all this made Orochimaru's curiosity surge into something fierce and uncontrollable, burning bright in the depths of his soul.
"From the very beginning."
Aizen's expression didn't change as he answered, still wearing that mild, respectful smile.
"Your talent, your schemes, your desires—and your eventual failure—were all decided from the start, Lord Orochimaru."
He took a step forward of his own, his calm voice carrying effortlessly through the still air.
"You are exactly as I judged you to be—narrow-minded yet arrogant, emotional yet self-contained. A man of conviction and ambition who would sacrifice anything to follow his own path."
"That is why you followed your suspicion and your impulse."
"And that is why you came here."
Orochimaru's pupils shrank slightly at the words, a twitch of emotion crossing his pale face before it twisted into a smile.
It was clear he was furious, though his tone grew only colder and steadier.
"Then tell me, Aizen."
"For someone so skilled in planning and manipulation—why…"
He took one final step forward, and his hoarse voice rose like the sudden crash of a wave breaking through calm waters.
"…would you dare stand before me?"
Along with his words came the release of killing intent so intense it seemed to tear through the air itself.
It was the aura of one of the Three Legendary Sannin—one of the strongest living shinobi in the entire ninja world.
The surge of bloodlust and chakra twisted the air into a howling storm. The shockwave of his gaze alone shredded bark from the trunks of ancient trees.
In Orochimaru's narrowed vision, Aizen's face came sharply into focus.
Step. Forward.
With strength few could imagine, Orochimaru's foot slammed into the ground, scattering earth and stone.
The recoil sent his body shooting forward in a blur, barely visible even to trained eyes.
His hand flashed to his hip. The blade of the Kusanagi Sword gleamed in the moonlight as it sliced through the air—its cutting edge aimed straight for Aizen's neck, the blow fast enough to cause a sonic crack.
A metallic shriek split the silence.
The Kusanagi halted abruptly, its edge colliding with a black kunai just an inch from Aizen's throat. Sparks burst between them.The blade would go no farther.
For an instant, something like surprise flickered through Orochimaru's eyes.
Aizen's voice came from just beside his ear.
"As I said, Lord Orochimaru—you're far too arrogant."
The next instant, a black flash struck him like a thunderbolt. Aizen's leg whipped out, his heel slamming into Orochimaru's midsection with enough force to bend his body backward.
The impact sent him crashing through the air, bones cracking audibly.
Before he could rise, a kunai—its edge chipped from the earlier clash—whistled toward his face like a bullet.
Orochimaru twisted his neck at an impossible angle, his head snapping ninety degrees to the side as the weapon embedded itself in a tree trunk behind him.
A split-second later, a heavy punch came flying toward him.
Orochimaru raised his arms just in time to block. The strike crashed against his forearms with a deep, crushing sound, driving him backward several steps.
For the first time in a long while, he actually felt pain. And yet his expression only grew more exhilarated.
Not bad.
Lightning-fast, he reversed his grip on the Kusanagi, slashing upward at point-blank range. The blade sliced through the air with a shrill tearing sound, forcing Aizen to retreat half a step.
Before Aizen could react further, Orochimaru's other arm suddenly extended—stretching like a whip as his clawed hand seized Aizen's shoulder.
Caught off guard, Aizen's body was yanked from the ground, his entire form whipped through the air in a deadly arc.
Just as he was about to crash down, a kunai pierced Orochimaru's arm, severing the muscle. The limb instantly lost strength, and Aizen twisted midair, landing deftly against a tree trunk.
Using that split second of contact, he launched himself forward again—like an arrow released from a drawn bow.
Clang!
Kunai met sword once more.
In the pale moonlight, their gazes crossed—both wearing faint, exhilarated smiles.
Moments later, the forest erupted into a symphony of clashing steel, gusting wind, and shattered earth. Their movements blurred together, too swift for the eye to follow.
The battle was fierce, balanced, and primal—rekindling in Orochimaru the rush of blood and excitement he hadn't felt since the battlefields of the Third Ninja War.
His speed, his strength, his reflexes, his skill—
Everything about this fight thrilled him.
For someone so young to wield power so close to his own… what kind of secret did that body hold?
The thought alone made the hunger in his serpentine eyes blaze even brighter.
He wanted it. He wanted to know. He wanted more.
His strikes grew faster, his blade heavier, the cutting wind sharper and louder as it sliced the air between them.
The surrounding forest quaked beneath their clash. Massive trees splintered, bark exploding off in great shards.
It was no longer a battle between men—it was like two beasts tearing through the wilderness, uprooting trees and shaking the very ground beneath them.
And far away, deep underground, others watched in stunned silence.
...
Kabuto froze mid-motion, staring blankly at the enormous screen that covered the wall before him.
Every researcher in the room mirrored his shock.
His trembling hand pressed against the alarm button linked directly to Orochimaru's earpiece. He had been pressing it again and again—but there was no response.
On the screen, his master continued to fight—utterly absorbed in the battle, consumed by it.
Almost in disbelief, Kabuto whispered, his voice cracking with confusion and fear:
"Lord Orochimaru…"
"What on earth are you doing?!"