There was this old joke Kenichi Amamiya remembered:
The hero's little brother dies.
The archer swears, "I'll avenge him."
The mage clenches his staff. "I'll avenge him too."
Then the necromancer steps forward and says—
"And so will your dead little brother."
Pitch-black humor.
And right now, Kenichi felt like he'd just unlocked that exact class.
After learning Impure World Reincarnation from Orochimaru, he had, more or less, officially "changed jobs" into a necromancer. A forbidden jutsu that drags souls out of the Pure Land and stuffs them into living sacrifices… if that wasn't necromancy, nothing was.
For now, though, Orochimaru had warned him not to use it inside the village.
The jutsu itself was still in the middle of being refined, according to his teacher. Once it was perfected, it would be far more practical and much easier to control.
"Sensei," Kenichi suddenly asked one day, "if souls exist, and the Pure Land exists… what keeps them running? What kind of energy holds a soul together?"
If there was a Pure Land, then there was a system. Systems needed fuel.
No way "soul" was powered by vibes.
"…I don't know," Orochimaru admitted after a pause. "The soul clearly exists, but what sustains it… that remains unknown."
He narrowed his eyes.
"Are you planning to research that now?"
Kenichi waved his hands so fast it was almost comical.
"No, no, no. I was just curious. I'm nowhere near ready to touch that."
Researching souls?
Right now?
That sounded like a great way to get a certain ancient man with a Rinnegan and a god complex to personally come knocking.
Kenichi might have skipped a bunch of flashbacks when he watched Naruto in his last life, but he still remembered this much: the Sage of Six Paths was in the Pure Land, watching everything. And the souls of most powerful shinobi were piled up in there too.
And yet, by the law of conservation of energy, souls shouldn't be free. They had to be burning something.
Chakra? Some higher-order energy? Something beyond his world's physics?
The question made him itch, but it also made him feel like a bug looking up at a planet.
"…As long as you understand," Orochimaru said at last. "For now, focus on the research you can actually do—and be ready when the time comes."
Kenichi nodded.
Orochimaru didn't say "ready for what," but he didn't need to.
Kenichi could guess.
His teacher had probably already made up his mind about leaving Konoha.
"Sensei, who's the fourth person in this photo?"
Later, back in the lab, Kenichi finally couldn't hold back his curiosity.
On Orochimaru's desk was a framed photo. Four people stood in it.
Three of them were legends: Jiraiya, Tsunade, and Orochimaru—the Sannin.
The fourth man, however, Kenichi didn't recognize. Handsome, sharp-eyed, wearing a Konoha forehead protector… and completely absent from the anime as he remembered it.
"Oh, that?" Orochimaru glanced at it, a faint sneer tugging at his lips. "That's Hiruko. A man who broke taboos and was cast aside by the village without hesitation."
Hiruko…
Kenichi's eyes narrowed.
He remembered that name. A missing-nin who developed a technique to steal and fuse bloodline limits. Filler or movie material in his old world—but here?
Here, that man was real.
If I could find him… or at least get my hands on some of his tissue samples…
The thought alone made his fingers twitch.
Leaving the underground lab, Kenichi walked back to his small house. The surrounding woods were quiet, but he knew better than to be fooled.
There were Root shinobi hidden all around.
That was how Danzō and Orochimaru worked. "Cooperation" always came with "surveillance." Orochimaru seemed unbothered, but Kenichi never forgot those unseen eyes.
On his way out to buy ingredients for dinner, he ran unexpectedly into a familiar pair.
"Hey, little Amamiya, you out shopping too?" Uzumaki Kushina called out, smiling so brightly it almost hurt to look at.
Recently, she looked… softer. Happier. Like a woman whose life had finally settled into the warmth she'd wanted.
"Yes, Kushina-neechan. I was just going to buy some things to make sukiyaki at home," Kenichi replied with his sweetest, most harmless smile.
Kushina's hair had already served its purpose. The strand he'd collected was analyzed in the lab, and thanks to Orochimaru's previous work separating out Hashirama's unique genes, extracting the Uzumaki clan's special genetic segment wasn't too difficult.
Give it a few days, and that elective task would be checked off.
Now that he'd decided to leave the village with Orochimaru sooner or later, Kenichi no longer felt the need to overly cozy up to Kushina. Basic friendliness was enough.
Who knew how things would unfold? Maybe Orochimaru really would change course under the butterfly effects. Maybe the Third would rope Kenichi in as an "undercover" double agent.
Never say never.
"Wow, you can cook too? That's impressive, Amamiya," Namikaze Minato said with his usual gentle smile beside her.
Most people saw him this way: warm, sunny, humble. The Yellow Flash of Konoha, war hero, natural-born leader.
Kenichi glanced at him and had to fight the urge to sigh.
I wonder, when you find out your son grew up not as a hero's child, but as a cursed 'Nine-Tails demon'… shoved aside, bullied, ignored… will you still love this village so much?
Probably not.
Or at least, not without a mountain of regret.
"Ehe…" Kenichi just scratched his cheek and smiled shyly, playing the innocent kid role to the end.
He had originally planned to discreetly collect something useful from the couple to use as sacrifice material for Impure World Reincarnation later.
But then he remembered: Minato would use Reaper Death Seal. Anyone eaten by the Shinigami couldn't be dragged back with Edo Tensei.
Kushina, on the other hand, wasn't that strong in direct combat, but as an Uzumaki, her sealing arts were terrifying. For her, Kenichi decided he'd gather materials later—sealing formulas, chakra traces, things tied to her craft.
Those would be much more useful.
After finally escaping the overly friendly couple, Kenichi bought his groceries and headed home to cook in peace.
The next morning, the village exploded with news.
The Fourth Hokage was to be officially inaugurated.
It was fast, but not surprising. The higher-ups had long since agreed on their choice. This was just the public ceremony, the moment Konoha at large would be told:
From now on, your Hokage is Namikaze Minato.
Joy rippled through the streets. Conversations, cheers, laughter—everyone was talking about Minato's achievements and legendary exploits.
Just days ago, people had been arguing fiercely about whether Orochimaru should be the Fourth.
Now, it was like he'd been erased. A background character.
Someone you walked past without seeing.
"Kenichi… do you know what I see when I look at this?" Orochimaru asked that same day, arms folded as he watched the celebrating crowd from a distance, a faint smile on his lips.
Kenichi shook his head.
"What I see," Orochimaru said softly, "is a rotten village that reeks of decay. I see ambition that refuses to step down… and ignorant masses who are being played, and don't even know it."
His eyes were icy cold.
Kenichi stayed quiet.
He understood exactly what Orochimaru meant.
Sakumo Hatake's death. Danzō's schemes. The way "Will of Fire" became a slogan used to justify sacrifice—always someone else's sacrifice.
This village was strong. It was deep. It had history.
But it was also unbearably dirty.
And the man standing beside him had finally decided—
He would no longer rot with it.