010 The Serpent’s Greed

In the forests of Konoha, Guy and Kakashi raced swiftly through the branches, one following the other. This time, their destination was not deep within the woods, but the central hospital of the village.

Guy glanced at the wounded man slung across his back, worried. “Lord Orochimaru, is he going to die?” It wasn’t an exaggeration; Orochimaru’s injuries were eerily strange. Though he appeared unscathed on the surface, an unusual pink hue seeped across his typically pale skin, hinting at countless ruptured capillaries beneath flesh and bone.

Guy could even faintly smell the metallic tang of blood from behind. Neither he nor Kakashi were medical shinobi; the rudimentary first aid taught at the Academy was utterly useless in this situation. They suspected even a trained medic would be at a loss.

“He won’t die,” Kakashi replied, though it wasn’t his voice that answered. A voice came from behind Guy. “But if you keep jostling me like this, I might actually die. Put me down, quickly.”

Guy startled, abruptly halting. “Lord Orochimaru, you’re awake?”

A messy scramble ensued, and Orochimaru coughed up several mouthfuls of blood, his injuries worsening. Leaning against a tree, he fixed his gaze on the two men and spoke slowly, “‘Treat the wounded where they are, don’t move them.’ Didn’t your Academy teachers ever teach you that?”

Yes, we learned that, but surely it doesn’t apply to someone on the verge of death!

Kakashi and Guy muttered quietly, but as they watched Orochimaru rest and recover, his condition visibly improved, and both fell silent. Common sense did not apply to a shinobi like Orochimaru.

With a rhythmic inhale and exhale, Orochimaru’s wounds—damage to heart and lungs—began to heal before their eyes. The Lamp Spirit emerged, looking smug. “Well? The healing effect of the breathing technique is remarkable, isn’t it?”

Orochimaru glanced coldly at the smiling Lamp Spirit, saying nothing. His wounds had been inflicted by the very one who gifted him this method, so gratitude was out of the question.

“Don’t be so frosty. You should know that you successfully harnessed natural energy this time.” The Lamp Spirit extended its neck, bringing its head level with Orochimaru’s, and grinned. “No need to pine after Jiraiya’s toad sage mode anymore. You have something better.”

Mentioning this only soured Orochimaru’s mood further. He retorted, “That kind of natural power is utterly beyond my control.” If not for the Lamp Spirit releasing it all at the last moment, his mind would have been obliterated by the overwhelming force of nature.

The Lamp Spirit nodded. “That was my mistake.” The world itself is both a blessing and a curse; the abundant natural energy in the shinobi realm is easier to sense yet places an immense strain on the mind. Save for the Sage of Six Paths, no one’s spirit could withstand such pressure.

The three great sanctuaries developed sage modes for a reason—it wasn’t meaningless for shinobi. But for the Lamp Spirit, sage mode was useless. Toad oil couldn’t be brought out of the world; forcibly replicating it would only warp and distort the host. He needed something more universal.

The Lamp Spirit looked at Orochimaru, a smile on his face. “Pure natural energy is dangerous. But will you give it up?”

Orochimaru leaned against the tree, silent. Once one has tasted meat, who could return to eating only vegetables? How could he possibly give up, even if it meant risking his life?

Still, Orochimaru was annoyed—annoyed that the Lamp Spirit saw through his greed so completely. A plate of meat, stuck with silver needles, placed before him with an expression that said, ‘You’re bound to eat it.’

Orochimaru could not bear to look at the Lamp Spirit’s obnoxious face any longer. He struggled to his feet, eyes falling on Guy and Kakashi, his gaze sharp.

“Earlier, while I was training, were you two watching from the sidelines?”

The pair looked embarrassed. Before Guy could offer the excuse he’d prepared, Orochimaru continued, “Don’t breathe a word of this to anyone. In exchange, I’ll teach you the taijutsu I’ve been developing.”

“This…” Kakashi and Guy exchanged glances, delight evident in both their eyes. Not only were they not punished, they were to be rewarded?

“No problem, Lord Orochimaru. We won’t tell anyone,” Guy promised eagerly.

Kakashi echoed his agreement.

Orochimaru nodded. “In a few days, I’ll pick a date and let you know.”

It was a clear dismissal. Kakashi understood, apologized, and was about to drag Guy away, only for Guy to seize his arm.

Orochimaru frowned. “Is there something else?”

Guy looked hopeful. “Lord Orochimaru, if you teach me taijutsu, does that mean I’ll be your disciple from now on?”

At that, Kakashi paused as well. The title of ‘disciple of the Legendary Sannin’ was prestigious, and Orochimaru’s taijutsu was formidable, but he had no intention of taking on another teacher—especially after the recent death of Minato-sensei.

“Guy, you may call me ‘teacher,’” Orochimaru said, turning to Kakashi. “But you may not. I am merely teaching you a technique; do not proclaim yourself my disciple.”

“…Yes!” Kakashi was puzzled by Orochimaru’s apparent distaste, especially as he accepted Guy.

But Orochimaru clearly had no intention of explaining. Kakashi could only apologize again and drag the excited Guy away.

Once they disappeared into the dense woods, the Lamp Spirit poked its head out and asked, “Your decision puzzles me. Kakashi is a genius.”

“But he is Minato’s pupil,” Orochimaru replied with a snort. “If I let him call me teacher, wouldn’t that mean I rank below Jiraiya?”

“I thought you cared for nothing but immortality.”

“Enough. Are you rested? We still have important matters to attend to.”

“It’s rare for you to suffer such grave wounds; it’d be a waste not to make use of them.”

…

In the heart of Konoha, at the core of the devastation wrought by the Nine-Tails last night, countless shinobi and civilians were busy at work. It was midday, the sunlight fierce, yet the mood was somber.

Beside the bodies covered in white sheets, children’s muffled sobs could be heard. Shinobi and civilians clearing the wreckage paid no heed, absorbed in their tasks, but their dejection was visible to all.

Just then, a figure stumbled in from afar, clearly bearing grave injuries. Among the resting shinobi, one spotted him, set down his water bottle, and hurried over.

Yet before he could reach him, the figure collapsed.

The shinobi rushed to his side to check his injuries. When he saw the man’s face, his expression turned to terror.

“L-Lord Orochimaru!”

How could he be here? And why was he so badly wounded?

The shinobi’s shout alerted others; more shinobi and civilians gathered, murmurs spreading in the crowd.

Could it be… After the Fourth Hokage, was Konoha about to lose one of the Legendary Sannin as well?