"We were delayed," Kiyohara said, walking briskly toward Rin, Kurenai, and the others.
He looked toward the center of the camp.
Standing on a hastily erected wooden platform was a man with deathly pale skin, long black hair, and golden, slit-pupil eyes. Purple markings trailed down his nose. Magatama earrings dangled from his lobes.
Orochimaru.
Kiyohara had only ever seen the Sannin from a distance.
When he received the 100,000 Ryo sponsorship, he had been genuinely surprised. If his last name were Uchiha, he would have assumed Orochimaru was fattening him up to steal his body.
But right now, Orochimaru was still loyal to Konoha (mostly) and collaborating with Danzo. His obsession with the Sharingan hadn't reached the madness it would after encountering Itachi.
"Quiet down."
Orochimaru's hoarse voice wasn't loud, but it carried an invisible, suffocating pressure. The noisy camp fell dead silent instantly.
The aura of a Sannin was absolute.
"The Hidden Mist," Orochimaru began, his tongue unconsciously flicking over his pale lips, "is no longer satisfied with border skirmishes. They are extending their claws into the Land of Fire."
He paused, letting the reality sink in.
The Land of Fire was the most fertile, resource-rich territory in the world. Everyone wanted a piece.
Currently, Konoha was fighting a war of attrition on four fronts: Iwa (Earth), Kiri (Water), Suna (Wind), and Kumo (Lightning). The Ninja Academy couldn't graduate Genin fast enough to replace the body bags coming back.
"To counter a massive naval invasion, we are establishing a coastal defense line," Orochimaru announced, unrolling a scroll. "You will be assigned to forward sectors."
The camp murmured nervously.
Orochimaru began reading squad assignments.
Kiyohara pricked his ears.
"...Squad 7, Squad 11, Squad 14. You are assigned to the Old Site of the Land of Whirlpools (Uzushiogakure). Establish an observation post. Scout Mist movements. Intercept if necessary."
Kiyohara's heart stirred.
The Land of Whirlpools. The ancestral home of the Uzumaki Clan, destroyed years ago. Geographically, it was a massive island off the eastern coast, serving as a buffer between the Land of Fire and the Land of Water.
It was a crucial chokepoint. But it was also the absolute frontline. The risk was astronomical.
"Have you ever been to Whirlpool?" Kurenai whispered to Kiyohara.
"No," he shook his head.
Orochimaru finished the list. The ninja began to disperse.
Then, the hoarse voice spoke again.
"Kiyohara. Stay behind. Come to my tent."
The camp froze.
Dozens of eyes snapped toward Kiyohara.
Kurenai stopped, her crimson eyes wide with confusion. Kakashi's visible eye narrowed.
Why was a Sannin summoning a random Commoner Chunin?
Kiyohara kept his face perfectly blank.
"Yes, Lord Orochimaru."
He followed the Sannin's ANBU guard toward the command tent.
Shiranui Genma, chewing his senbon, watched Kiyohara walk away.
"This kid..." Genma muttered, feeling a complex mix of emotions.
He used to worry Kiyohara would die because he was weak and broke. Now, he was afraid Kiyohara was going to soar so high he'd leave them all in the dust.
'It's like they say,' Genma sighed. 'You're afraid your brother won't be able to afford his own kunai, but you're also afraid your brother will get sponsored by a Sannin.'
.....
The command tent was dim, lit only by flickering oil lamps.
Orochimaru sat at the head of a map table, his hands steeped under his chin. His golden snake eyes examined Kiyohara with terrifying intensity.
"Lord Orochimaru," Kiyohara bowed respectfully.
"Heh heh..." Orochimaru let out a low, raspy chuckle. "Kiyohara-kun. Don't be nervous. I am merely curious about your... outstanding performance."
Orochimaru had read the files.
High sensory ability. Mastery of Wind and Lightning Release. And recently, a sudden, lethal proficiency in Kenjutsu (Swordsmanship) that allowed him to kill Ao, a Mist Jonin.
For a civilian Chunin, his growth curve was a vertical line.
"I also heard," Orochimaru continued, "that you spend almost all your mission pay—and my sponsorship—on repairing gear and buying weapons. And that you took out a loan from the Village to fund your loadout?"
Kiyohara's heart skipped a beat.
'Of course he looked into my finances. The man is thorough.'
Kiyohara decided to play it straight. You don't lie to a snake; you just tell it what it wants to hear.
"Yes, Lord Orochimaru. Better equipment means a higher chance of survival. For a ninja, the only truly important thing is... to live."
He didn't mention the "Will of Fire." He didn't talk about protecting the village.
He gave the most pragmatic, selfish answer possible. Because he knew Orochimaru didn't believe in the Will of Fire either. To Orochimaru, ninja were just lab rats. Why would a lab rat care about the laboratory?
"Interesting," Orochimaru's eyes gleamed.
It was a refreshing answer. He had asked many young ninja that question. They all regurgitated the same brainwashed rhetoric: 'I fight for the Hokage! I fight for the Village!'
Boring. Predictable. Like windmills waiting for the wind.
Orochimaru leaned forward, his curiosity piqued.
"If survival is the only goal... then what do you live for, Kiyohara-kun?"
This was the core of Orochimaru's own existential crisis.
Kiyohara looked directly into the golden eyes.
He knew exactly what the Sannin wanted to hear. It was time to play the intellectual sycophant.
"I live to witness more wonders, Lord Orochimaru. And to grasp more truths."
It was the perfect lie.
In reality, Kiyohara just wanted to survive long enough to open more "Urns" and stack more cheats.
He quickly did the math in his head.
'Marching to the Land of Whirlpools will take a week. If I can just survive one week on that island without getting killed... the next Last Words Letter will arrive.'
Orochimaru smiled. A genuine, terrifying smile.
"Truths," the Sannin whispered. "Yes. We are very much alike, Kiyohara-kun."
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