"Let's see… materials for the thermobaric bomb: check. Enough to make the fuel-air mix: also check.
The problem is—"
Amamiya Kenichi frowned at the blueprint spread out across the lab table.
The design was complete.
The ratios were not.
The scroll he'd gotten had every key step, every structural calculation, every note on pressure waves and combustion…
Except the exact composition of the explosive mixture.
Whoever made this thing had decided that part was "figure it out yourself, good luck :)".
Kenichi rubbed his chin.
In his past life, he'd only ever seen thermobaric bombs in movies and documentaries. He'd never touched the real thing, much less built one.
But he knew enough to be properly respectful.
These weren't normal bombs. They were monsters—especially vicious against underground structures and the people hiding in them.
He'd always suspected those jungle tunnel wars back on Blue Star had given certain western militaries very, very loud PTSD.
So they invented this.
"Well, can't deny it. Thermobarics are pretty much top-tier among conventional weapons," he muttered. "Nukes don't count."
He stared at the blank "ratio" section on the blueprint.
"Maybe the reason it's not written… is because it's supposed to factor in chakra?"
That thought made him pause.
The biggest difference between this world and his last wasn't tech. It wasn't history. It was chakra.
A clean, versatile, deeply weird form of energy.
Just look at ninjutsu. Even the 'simple' ones made no physical sense.
And then there was ocular power—瞳力. A completely nonsensical stat that somehow let you drag meteorites out of the sky.
So when he'd first gotten the thermobaric design, Kenichi's brain had gone straight to the obvious forbidden thought:
What if I inject chakra into this?
And if he could fuse chakra with a thermobaric warhead…
Could he eventually fuse ocular power into it as well?
What kind of weapon would that create?
Kenichi was extremely interested in the answer.
For now, though, he had no concrete method to make "chakra-infused thermobaric bombs" a reality.
So he decided to work from a simpler, proven concept.
"I remember we had a copy of Explosive Tags: From Beginner to Master around here…"
He left the workbench, walked over to the shelves in the next room, and flipped through a few manuals.
After a moment, he pulled out a thick booklet with a satisfyingly dumb title.
"Found it."
Explosive tags were simple in concept:
Take a low-level Fire Release jutsu.
Use a special sealing formula.
Bind it into treated paper.
Result: portable, stackable boom.
If you were crazy enough, you could chain them.
If you were Orochimaru-level crazy, you could probably create an entire explosive library.
And if sealing ninjutsu into paper was possible, then so were more advanced things:
Beast-sealing tags.
Curse-seal tags.
Even senjutsu tags.
The principle was the same.
So Kenichi's plan was simple:
Start by learning how to make proper explosive tags from scratch.
Understand the structure and flow of chakra inside the seals.
Use that as a reference to develop chakra-synced thermobaric charges.
Orochimaru watched her disciple bustle between rooms and scrolls while sipping tea.
She was… satisfied.
Even knowing she was currently in a "weakened" state—fresh out of a soul transfer—Kenichi hadn't shown the slightest hint of betrayal.
No probing strikes.
No tests.
No "accidents."
Just research.
Of course, in reality, she wasn't that weak anymore.
The moment Kenichi left on his mission to the Rain, she had sealed the lab and performed Living Corpse Reincarnation.
The first few hours, she had felt the soul fatigue—her spiritual presence slightly thinned, her control not at one hundred percent.
But by now?
Her strength had recovered to nearly normal.
If Kenichi had tried anything cute while she was still calibrating this body…
She wouldn't have hesitated in the slightest to "purify the bloodline" and get herself a new disciple.
"Akatsuki, hmm? Rinnegan—the Sage's eyes. If the legends are true, they're said to hold incredible power…"
Orochimaru turned her new ring between pale fingers.
Then her gaze dropped to her own body, and her expression cooled.
The Living Corpse Reincarnation experiment had not gone perfectly.
Partway through the transfer, the host's body had shuddered violently for a moment.
Just a twitch.
Normally insignificant.
But the process demanded near-absolute stability. Even that small tremor had interfered with the soul transfer.
Now, Orochimaru had discovered a side effect:
Some of the host's memories had bled back in.
Memories that should have been scrubbed clean and scattered.
They weren't dominant, they didn't affect her identity—but here and there, scraps resurfaced:
A childhood street.
A favorite snack.
A fleeting embarrassment.
Useless, human junk.
"Annoying," she muttered.
Still, it didn't affect her ability to mimic her old face. When she'd gone to test Kenichi with her "Orochimaru form," every word, every expression had been calculated.
The exam was over now. The results had been good.
So there was no longer any need to walk around in a teenage girl's skin.
Her appearance shimmered, contours stretching and twisting—
Until the familiar pale face and snake-like eyes of "Orochimaru" re-formed.
Only the height was slightly lower than before. But not enough for most to notice.
『Orochimaru. Welcome to Akatsuki.』
A cold voice rang suddenly in the darkness.
Her vision blacked out for an instant.
Then she was standing somewhere else.
Not with her physical body, but with a different kind of presence.
A projection.
"Leader Pain, what technique is this?" Kenichi's voice rang out nearby.
He'd been dragged in as well.
He'd seen this meeting in his past life, animated on a screen.
Experiencing it firsthand was… oddly cool.
"This is how Akatsuki conducts internal meetings," Pain replied expressionlessly. "Since it's your first time, I didn't notify you. I will inform you next time before pulling you in."
In truth, this first sudden summons had been deliberate.
A show of power. A reminder.
The two Konoha defectors joining his organization needed to understand what kind of person they were working under.
"Oh? As expected… that really is the Rinnegan." Orochimaru's gaze settled on Pain.
Even in this shadowed, half-formed space, those eyes were unmistakable.
Concentric ripples.
Cold, inhuman light.
They were the kind of eyes you saw once and never forgot.
"From now on, during internal communication, use your ring names," Pain said flatly, ignoring her comment. "No real names."
"Got it, Pain," Kenichi said cheerfully.
He turned his head toward the only person here who looked remotely normal.
"Konan-nee, can you make my cloak extra cool? I want a long coat—maybe something that looks really dramatic in the wind."
"…"
For a moment, the air went completely silent.
Pain inhaled slowly.
For no particular reason, he suddenly had an urge to kick "Gyoku" out of the organization.
Konan stared at him for a few seconds, then finally answered.
"…The uniforms are all the same. Only the size changes."
She honestly could not remember the last time someone's first concern at an Akatsuki meeting had been fashion.
Would coolness-value increase damage? Would a dramatic silhouette raise mission success rates?
She doubted it.
"Aww, but we could at least add some personal touches to tell us apart," Kenichi grinned. "Like maybe—"
"Enough. Gyoku."
Pain cut him off.
Kenichi shrugged, made a little "zipping his mouth shut" gesture across his lips, and obediently went quiet.
For now.
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