Nara Shikaku's explanation didn't put everyone's minds completely at ease. What he'd said only made it plausible that Koeda Kyoichi could have shown up down south — it didn't explain how Kyoichi managed to ruin Orochimaru's operation. Was it just because he'd killed Hanzō of the Salamander?
True, Hanzo had been terrifyingly strong in his prime — once spoken of as "half-divine," standing at the pinnacle of the shinobi world. Even Konoha's Sannin had tasted a crushing defeat at his hands.
But that was then.
Hanzo had been at his peak back then while the Sannin were only beginning to show their strength; the outcome reflected that generation's balance of power. Now, Hanzō had long since declined, while the Sannin were in their prime — any one of them could match or surpass Hanzō at his height. Time changes everything.
So killing an aged, waning Hanzō did not automatically mean Koeda Kyoichi had the ability to take on Orochimaru.
Silence filled the tent; no one knew quite what to say.
"I tell you this so you understand the danger: if you ever run into Koeda Kyoichi, run if you can. If you can't break away, only engage in a group effort — try to create an opportunity to withdraw or hold out for reinforcements. If you meet him alone… good luck to you," Orochimaru said matter-of-factly.
"Of course, you're unlikely to meet him anytime soon. Kirigakure's defeat is settled — they won't be in a position to strike back in the near future. What you should be wary of is later on. I'll file a detailed report on Koeda Kyoichi; read it when it's circulated so you're mentally prepared if you ever face him."
Orochimaru did not care about how others judged him; he was simply speaking to himself as much as to the room. At this moment, despite everything, there remained in him a certain attachment to the village — to Konoha as his hometown. Past experiences had twisted and complicated that attachment and ultimately drove him to extreme choices later in life, but that was the future; for now he appeared composed and relatively sane. He spoke plainly about his defeat at Kyoichi's hands partly because he didn't much care about the effect on his reputation, and partly because his feelings for the village meant he did not wish to see it needlessly harmed by his loss.
"…I understand." Kudō Mokume's mind seemed to short-circuit; he nodded stiffly.
"All right, then. I'll rest," Orochimaru said, rising and moving toward the tent flap.
"Wait!" Mokume called after him.
"Anything else?" Orochimaru halted and turned.
"…No, it's nothing. We're in the middle of a meeting — why don't you sit and listen?" Mokume offered awkwardly. He'd only ever worked alongside Tsunade and Katō Dan in the past; he wasn't close with Orochimaru, only acquainted. Orochimaru had always been a bit aloof and difficult to read, so Mokume felt clumsy dealing with him.
"No, thanks. I'm not interested in boring matters. Besides, I only joined this counterattack as an ordinary jonin; I don't belong in high-level strategy meetings." Orochimaru said it offhandedly and left.
He walked out and left the tent full of stunned, disordered faces. Who was an "ordinary jonin" who could stroll into a room, sit in a chair left for him, and talk candidly before all those chiefs? No one said it aloud — he was Orochimaru, the favorite disciple of the Third Hokage and a legitimate contender for the Fourth's post; capriciousness was practically his right.
"—Shikaku, continue," Mokume said after the flap fell and the tent closed. He spoke as if Orochimaru had never been there.
"Right." Nara Shikaku rose and resumed the briefing. They didn't dwell on Koeda Kyoichi or the fleeing Kirigakure remnants; according to Orochimaru, Kyoichi was sensational but did not alter the strategic picture. Whether he might become a danger later was a question for the Hokage and the elders, not for them.
—
Meanwhile, in Konoha, the sun was setting and the school bell had rung. Students streamed out: the little ones scurried off with parents waiting at the gates; the older kids walked home in small groups. A few walked alone — lone wolves whose presence radiated strength.
One of them wore the Uchiha clan's fan crest on his collar. His name was Uchiha Tsuraha. He was nine years old, an orphan who lived with his older brother, Uchiha Jiuyu. Not long ago, they'd received word from the front: Jiuyu had fallen in battle, his body never recovered. The news devastated the solitary, withdrawn Tsuruha; he dug inward, hardened himself against others, even in front of the clan head.
"Found him — Uchiha Tsuraha." A carnivorous-plant–like figure appeared on the trunk of a towering tree above Tsuruha, looming down on the boy's back. The half-black, half-white yin-yang face curled in malicious delight. The pale half asked: "Hey, hey, Black Zetsu, what now? How shall we use this kid to rile up that Uchiha brat, Jiuyu?"
"…What else? Make him witness the death of someone he loves. That's the surest, fastest way to force an Uchiha to awaken!" Black Zetsu's dark, sinister voice drifted across the wind.