Orochimaru had been gone for a long time.
The Fourth's funeral had started in the morning and ended around noon, but even after everything was over, Amamiya Kenichi still hadn't seen his teacher.
"…Sensei isn't really trying to become the Fifth Hokage, right?"
Kenichi scratched his head.
If that were true, it would be hilarious—and terrifying.
He knew Orochimaru had once seriously aimed for the Hokage seat. Maybe not obsessively, but that ambition had been there.
But after Minato was chosen as the Fourth, Orochimaru had clearly let it go. Or at least, he'd seemed to.
"…No. There's another possibility."
Kenichi thought back to the missing left arm of Hiruzen Sarutobi.
Even if the Third had lost an arm, who was his teacher?
Orochimaru.
The man with the most advanced biological and forbidden-tech knowledge in the entire shinobi world.
If anyone in Konoha could restore Hiruzen's combat capability…
It would be him.
And if Hiruzen wanted to sit in the Hokage chair again, getting that arm "fixed" was the first step.
So who would he go to?
Kenichi didn't even need to think about it.
"Forget it."
Kenichi stopped guessing and went back down into the "public" lab he shared with Orochimaru.
This place was a decoy lab—half-smokescreen, half-real.
No grotesque human experiments.
No taboo projects.
Nothing you couldn't technically justify to the village.
"Kenichi, the more you act like you've got nothing to hide, the less people care. The more you sneak around… the more they want to know."
That's what his teacher had told him once.
Kenichi had to admit—it made a lot of sense.
If the Third ever decided to investigate, this place was clean enough to pass inspection.
Probably.
"So, assuming Sensei was called to 'fix' the Third's arm problem…"
Kenichi picked up a pen and casually spun it between his fingers.
"There are three main solutions, give or take."
He had nothing dangerous he could openly test in this lab, so he might as well use the time to think through designs.
"First option: clone an arm using his own cells and transplant it. Best-case scenario."
But there was a problem.
Orochimaru's cloning tech still wasn't at a stable, reliable, plug-and-play level. There were too many unknowns, too many side effects. It could work—but it might not be what Hiruzen wanted as his primary solution.
"Second option: grow a new arm using Hashirama's cells."
Kenichi immediately crossed that one off in his mind.
"Absolutely not."
Hashirama's cells were insanely aggressive. Even Danzō had to rely on Uchiha eyes just to keep the stuff from overrunning his body.
Could the Third Hokage really afford to walk around with a Hashirama arm?
Even if it worked, the political blowback would be insane—especially with the Uchiha already under suspicion. The optics alone would be terrible.
"So that leaves the third option…"
Kenichi's eyes lit up.
"I remember there are chakra-conductive metals in this world. If we make a fully mechanical arm from that kind of material…"
Wouldn't that solve the problem too?
Blood and flesh are weak.
Metal ascends.
The biggest issue with losing an arm wasn't just aesthetics—it was the inability to form hand seals, channel chakra properly, and fight at full strength.
But if the arm itself was made of high-grade conductive metal?
Then it could transmit chakra.
Form seals.
Act as both armor and weapon.
With Hiruzen's status and resources, getting the best possible material would not be an issue.
And the best part?
A mechanical arm meant one more thing:
Backdoors.
Hidden fail-safes.
Control triggers.
Little surprises only the creator knew about.
If Kenichi—or Orochimaru—ever needed to fight the Third one day, they could remotely disable the arm. Or worse.
"That'd be one hell of an off switch," Kenichi muttered to himself, sketching a rough design.
He was still doodling schematics when the lab door opened.
Orochimaru descended the stairs, his face darker than usual.
"Kenichi. As for restoring Hiruzen-sensei's arm… do you have any thoughts?"
So he really had gone to see him.
Kenichi instantly understood: the Third had not decided to pass the title on to Orochimaru. Instead, he'd asked his former student to patch him up—then planned to reclaim the Hokage seat himself.
Classic Sarutobi.
"I've got three ideas, Sensei."
Kenichi quickly laid them out one by one.
The first and second ideas—cloning and Hashirama cells—didn't get much of a reaction. Orochimaru had clearly thought of those himself.
But when Kenichi started describing the third idea…
"Using chakra-conductive metal to create a mechanical arm as a replacement?" Orochimaru's eyes sharpened, real interest flickering to life.
"That's right, Sensei. With good metal and precise construction, it would be very practical."
Strong, resilient, chakra-compatible—better than flesh in many ways.
Blood and bone could be poisoned, cut, broken.
Steel could be layered, reinforced, upgraded.
Of course, people like Maito Gai who trained their bodies to monstrous extremes might still out-punch metal with brute force alone… but that was the exception, not the rule.
"And with a design similar to Sand's puppetry systems," Kenichi continued, "we can use chakra strings, control conduits, and joint mechanisms to synchronize the arm with the user's will. It could form seals, focus chakra, even block weapons."
"Placed correctly, it could absorb impact, resist blades, maybe even resist poison if we coat it right. It just…"
He paused.
"…might be expensive. Chakra-conductive metals aren't cheap. And the higher the quality, the higher the cost."
Orochimaru smiled.
A sharp, amused, genuinely intrigued smile.
"Interesting. Very interesting. In that case, I'll assign you a budget," he said lightly. "Use your spare time to research this mechanical arm concept. I'd like to see what you come up with."
Kenichi blinked.
Then grinned.
Funding. For a chakra-mechanical prosthetic. In a world of ninjas.
So building a discount Iron Man really wasn't that far-fetched, huh?
"Understood, Sensei."
"So… what did the Third decide?" Kenichi couldn't help asking.
Orochimaru's expression cooled.
"He wants me to transplant someone else's arm for him—for now. It's the fastest way to regain basic function."
He let out a soft, humorless laugh.
"And then, on top of that, he wants me to hurry up and clone a replacement using his own cells as well."
In other words—
He wanted everything.
Fast recovery.
Minimal weakness.
Maximum political control.
Kenichi could almost hear Orochimaru's unspoken thought:
Looks like the old man is getting desperate.