"It has been far too long, Senju Haruto-dono."
Just as Haruto was wrestling with a vague, gnawing sense of emptiness, a familiar, raspy voice sounded from behind him.
"Orochimaru." Haruto spoke the name without hesitation before slowly turning, his gaze locking with the serpentine Sannin.
From the very beginning, Haruto had been aware that Orochimaru had infiltrated the Hidden Leaf. That much had never been in doubt.
"What a spectacle. I never imagined you would even master the Eight Gates," Orochimaru said with a smirk.
"You didn't come all the way here just to flatter me, did you?" Haruto's eyes narrowed as he scanned Orochimaru from head to toe, unconcerned by the possibility of an ambush.
The reason was simple—Orochimaru, with his current strength, stood no chance against him. If Orochimaru dared to bare his fangs, the fight would end in an instant.
And Orochimaru knew it.
He gave a slow shake of the head. "If I said I was simply passing by, would you believe me?"
"Since parting ways in Kusagakure, I resumed my research into the First Hokage's cells and have made… certain strides. At the same time, I've come to a sobering realization: the gap between you and me is vast. Yet…" His voice suddenly shifted, low and probing. "You've felt it too, haven't you, Haruto? That something is missing inside you."
Orochimaru was not only one of the Legendary Sannin but also among the few true scientific minds in the shinobi world. His insights into the human psyche were as sharp as his scalpel.
"What are you trying to say?" Haruto's voice was low, clipped—demanding honesty without the games.
"You're too strong, Haruto."
The words came easily, Orochimaru's tone matter-of-fact.
"Do not mistake my weakness in combat for ignorance. When it comes to information, my reach is no less than yours. I have watched your journey unfold all these years."
"Whatever methods you've used to gain Wood Release, the Sharingan, the Byakugan, and other bloodline limits… they've granted you overwhelming might. In today's shinobi world, there is none who surpasses you."
Orochimaru's lips curved into a mocking smile. He had prepared himself before stepping into Haruto's presence. Even if Haruto destroyed this vessel, Orochimaru's contingencies ensured his survival elsewhere.
"But this near-invincible strength of yours… it leaves one feeling hollow, doesn't it?"
"You felt it just now, didn't you? Watching your own Wood Clone unleash the Eight Gates, tearing through your Wood Release and even Susanoo—didn't you feel it? That exhilarating rush? That thrill of facing an opponent who could actually threaten you?"
"Those sensations acted like a drug to your system."
Orochimaru spread his pale hands wide, his words slipping into a lecture. He began describing the results of his human experiments, how he had discovered that the brain secreted a substance that generated pleasure and satisfaction.
Deprived of it, one would first lose joy, then sensation itself, until nothing remained—no emotion, no desire.
"I know what you want, Haruto-dono. You seek to unify the shinobi world. But after unification… then what? What joy will remain?"
"You are not a man obsessed with power. A throne means nothing to you. Women, too—you've never shown interest. As for battle… there is not a shinobi alive who can face you as an equal. No matter their ninjutsu, no matter the cost they pay, you crush them with a single strike. Such battles, in truth… are boring."
Orochimaru's voice dripped like venom, his monologue relentless as he pressed against Haruto's heart.
But what Orochimaru did not realize… was that Haruto already understood this better than he did.
That "substance" Orochimaru spoke of—Haruto knew it well from his original world. Dopamine.
And in that instant, Orochimaru's words clicked into place, revealing the emptiness that had been gnawing at him.
He remembered an anime he had once seen, one that mirrored his own life in unsettling ways. One Punch Man.
Its protagonist, Saitama, wielded absolute power—defeating any enemy with a single punch. Yet beneath that invincibility, he gradually lost his senses, his passion, his joy. The world became dull, gray, meaningless.
"So that's it…"
The realization struck Haruto like lightning. The hollow ache, the emptiness—it all made sense.
From the moment of his very first "sign-in," he had wielded the power to crush jōnin in an instant. His next reward granted him Wood Release, making him, beyond doubt, a shinobi of Hashirama's caliber. To call him a force that could stride across the shinobi world without opposition was no exaggeration.
The only powers that had once given him pause were Uchiha Itachi's Tsukuyomi and Danzō's Kotoamatsukami. But the next reward rendered him immune to all genjutsu.
Beyond legendary figures like Uchiha Madara, the Sage of Six Paths, or Kaguya Ōtsutsuki—Haruto could not imagine defeat.
Battle after battle had proven this true. Every opponent was crushed. No fight was truly a fight.
And so, he had forgotten what battle even meant.
Until just now.
Until his Wood Clone, through the unleashed fury of the Seventh Gate, rekindled something he thought long lost—
Expectation.
Yes… that was it.
"Expectation."
"What?" Orochimaru blinked, momentarily thrown off by Haruto's sudden utterance.
"Nothing," Haruto waved a hand, expression calm. "Go on."
What was happening here? Orochimaru frowned. Was it his imagination, or had Haruto changed somehow? His eyes were clearer now, free of that earlier haze of doubt.
"I was saying…" Orochimaru's tongue flicked against his lips, "I know a way for you to experience battle as equals once more."
"Battle as equals?" Haruto actually chuckled. In the entire shinobi world, who but the Sage of Six Paths could hope to stand toe-to-toe with him? What trick did Orochimaru think he possessed—that he could summon the Sage from the dead?
"Yes," Orochimaru replied without hesitation, his golden eyes gleaming with resolve.
"I can make it happen."
"But… I require something in return."
He drew in a long, steady breath before revealing his purpose.
"I want Uchiha Sasuke."