Chapter 76: A Gift, A Test

“Hiss… hiss…”
The white serpent coiled itself atop the long table, flicking its tongue as it surveyed the room. Its slit pupils turned ever so slightly, settling their gaze upon Kabuto.
“You contacted me so quickly—is something the matter?”
Kabuto bowed respectfully, not daring to be negligent, and succinctly reported the recent events.
Orochimaru lifted his head, glancing around the conference room. “Hiss… hiss… Danzo, is this your doing? Or perhaps it’s the rest of you.”
The serpent slithered down the length of the table, stopping before the three elder advisors, a clear look of disdain etched upon its reptilian face.
“Enough. If you have questions, ask them now. I’ve just arrived at Ryuchi Cave and have business to attend to.”
“Orochimaru, what exactly is this thing?”
Only now did Koharu regain her senses, staring in astonishment at the serpent on the table.
“That is your question?”
The white serpent lifted its chin, contempt gleaming in its eyes.
“It’s merely an advanced technique—a combination of shadow clone and sealing arts. Do you wish to learn it? I could teach you.”
“But mind you, I guarantee instruction, not mastery.”
Koharu heard the veiled mockery in his words, her face darkening further.
Homura quickly interjected, “Orochimaru, don’t change the subject. The matter at hand is your use of the First Hokage’s cells in human experimentation.”
“Oh, that? Kabuto has already conveyed my intentions. I will not conduct such experiments in the future.”
Orochimaru’s eyes narrowed as he glanced at Homura. “You’ve already acquired all the data… What, do you intend an additional punishment?”
Homura opened his mouth as if to speak, but closed it again.
Koharu, however, pressed on. “Punishment aside, you claim you won’t continue the experiments. How can you guarantee that?”
“I said I won’t, and that is my guarantee.”
Orochimaru hissed, a mocking smile curling on his serpentine face. “Unless, of course, you have some brilliant idea, Elder?”
Koharu furrowed her brow, about to voice the resolution reached earlier in the Hokage’s office, but the words stalled and died on her lips, leaving an odd expression on her face.
How was she supposed to say it?
That Orochimaru was incorrigible and would inevitably conduct experiments in secret, so they might as well let him do it openly, even assigning the village’s medical-nin to assist him?
It made sense, the logic was sound, yet how strange it sounded.
It was as if they were forcing an actress, who had sworn to turn over a new leaf, to return to the stage—and even giving her official endorsement.
Koharu bit her lip, her head beginning to ache.
Now, they were faced with only two choices: deceive themselves and choose to believe Orochimaru would refrain from further experimentation, or openly back him, allowing him to perfect the procedure until it became risk-free.
The latter would mean the Hokage’s faction—and all those who approved the decision—would have to shoulder the deaths caused by human experimentation.
That, Koharu could not accept.
Of course, there remained a third option: to turn a blind eye, pretend today’s events had never happened, and continue to keep Orochimaru under surveillance—waiting for him to slip, so they could seize upon it and condemn him.
But Koharu was unwilling to do that either.
Forcing Orochimaru into becoming a rogue ninja was not her wish.
Dilemma upon dilemma…
Koharu felt that, in the past month or two, these predicaments had become more and more frequent.
Especially because of Orochimaru—he was enough to shave years off her life.
Why couldn’t that wretch just be a proper, traditional Leaf shinobi?
And Hiruzen—he was no better. Why did he have to take on such a troublesome student!
In the Hokage’s conference room, the four village leaders wore peculiarly conflicted expressions.
The decision they had reached previously was logically sound, but none had expected Orochimaru to so easily relinquish his desire to experiment with the First Hokage’s cells.
Truth be told, if he wanted to conduct human experiments with the village’s backing, wouldn’t that be entirely to his benefit?
Why abandon it openly, only to persist in secret? Was it simply because he was Orochimaru, addicted to the cold, dank touch of the underground?
Facing their bewildered stares, Orochimaru merely flicked his tongue, the hissing sound almost like a twisted laugh.
To withstand the transplantation of the First Hokage’s cells, Orochimaru had, after much thought, deduced two possible methods.
One was what he now intended to pursue—training in Sage Arts to increase the quality of his chakra.
The other was to continue investigating ways to suppress the First’s cells, not only through medical means but also by delving into chakra manipulation.
Of the two, the latter was undeniably more complex and time-consuming, offering little benefit to his own strength.
More importantly, unlike his previous minor experiments with the Uchiha, this time, success would require the sacrifice of many lives.
Orochimaru was not one to shirk any method that involved exploiting lives.
But this time, it simply wasn’t necessary.
The white serpent’s eyes narrowed, their gaze sliding through the narrow slits, glancing sidelong at the silently brooding Danzo.
As for implementing the second method, he had already detailed the direction and key difficulties in a scroll.
Pioneering work was beyond Danzo’s researchers, but grunt work—tasks that demanded ruthlessness and callousness—if they could not manage even that, then they had no reason to exist.
Orochimaru did not wish for that outcome.
For it would mean that the Root, the very embodiment of Konoha’s darkness, was nothing more than a waste of resources that could not claim a single life.
If that happened, he would have to consider replacing Danzo—and the entire Root.
How troublesome that would be.
The atmosphere in the Hokage’s conference room grew tense. Each of the three options had its merits and drawbacks, but none were easy to choose.
Compared to the first two, standing aside required no sacrifice and delivered immediate, visible benefits.
Their silence was tacit approval of this course.
Having once rashly “stepped forward,” Koharu was loath to do so again.
Why should she, an elder advisor, be burdened with so much worry over Hiruzen’s student? Yes, she was an elder, but Hiruzen was still the Hokage.
Homura shared her sentiment, while Danzo was already pondering how to obtain the experimental data.
Just as this high-level meeting seemed about to dissolve without resolution, a commotion arose outside the conference room.
An Anbu member entered, swiftly approaching the Third and whispering in his ear.
The Third frowned. “Let him in.”
Moments later, a figure burst into the room.
His high-collared cloak was tattered, the fabric stained deep red with blood, his appearance thoroughly disheveled.
Yet none of the others spared a glance for his sorry state—their attention was wholly seized by something else.
A pair of crimson eyes.