Orochimaru’s eyes narrowed. “Whose?”

“Nawaki.”

The name hung in the cold air for several seconds.

Orochimaru’s grin slipped entirely, golden eyes turning almost reptilian in focus.

“You mean to tell me you found proof?”

Ryusei met his gaze evenly. “Yes. And you already know whose hand was behind it.”

Orochimaru’s voice dropped to a whisper, edged with venom. “Danzo.”

Ryusei gave a single nod.

A soft, slow laugh escaped Orochimaru, the one that held no real amusement.

Once upon a time, he had truly seen Nawaki as his first real student.

A boy full of promise, courage, and the kind of innocence that reminded him of what children his age were meant to be before the system twisted them.

That was why his death had changed Orochimaru so much. It wasn’t just a loss.

It was the first time he realized how easily even the bright ones were discarded.

He became cynical after that, not because he stopped caring, but because he understood too much.

It wasn’t the kind of grief that faded. It was the kind that soured into understanding. The kind that peeled away illusions.

He had known, even then, that something wasn’t right. Nawaki’s death had come too neatly, too suddenly, right after that boy had publicly declared his dream to become Hokage. It had the scent of politics all over it.

Orochimaru had guessed there was more behind it, a hand from the shadows, but he never said a word. He couldn’t.

Without proof, accusing Danzo or Hiruzen would’ve been suicide.

And telling Tsunade something like that would have only destroyed her without changing anything.

He told himself silence was mercy. But deep down, he knew it was also fear. Fear of the system that could erase anyone who saw too much.

That was when his view of the village began to rot.

When his curiosity turned into obsession, and his pursuit of knowledge became a way to keep control, because power was the only thing that couldn’t be betrayed.

Ryusei studied Orochimaru’s face quietly, the faint twitch near the man’s eye confirming more than words ever could.

He was right. Orochimaru hadn’t just known Nawaki; he had cared.

Maybe not in the naive way Jiraiya or Tsunade did, but in his own twisted version of affection.

The kind built on potential.

A student who could’ve been proof that his methods worked.

And when that boy died, something in Orochimaru calcified forever.

It made sense.

After all, Orochimaru wasn’t an idealist; he never had been.

He easily guessed the truth, yet he did nothing afterward.

Justice and revenge were concepts for people who still believed in fairness.

For him, betrayal and loss weren’t reasons to burn the world; they were reminders that the world was already ash.

Ryusei didn’t think it was cowardice. Just logic taken too far. A man who realized emotion only slowed survival down.

That was why Orochimaru had stayed silent. Why he’d never told Tsunade the truth, even if he suspected it. It didn’t serve his interests to make enemies of Danzo and Hiruzen then.

And years later, after defecting, his words would’ve been meaningless to them.

Or maybe, Ryusei thought, it wasn’t fear. Maybe it was guilt.

That helplessness he’d felt watching Nawaki die, knowing he couldn’t stop it, might have lingered long enough to twist into self-blame.

So he turned it into fuel instead, another justification to chase immortality, control, and power.

Because at least power didn’t die on you.

Even now, years later, Orochimaru still kept silent about it, still struck deals with Danzo, the same man likely behind that death, operating under the same organization that killed him.

Proof that he had learned to weaponize tragedy instead of mourn it.

Probably using it as some silent leverage on both Hiruzen and Danzo.

In a way, Ryusei almost respected that.

It also reminded him why Hiruzen had never truly managed to deal with Orochimaru properly.

The man was too knowledgeable to kill, too poisonous to keep, and too unpredictable to control.

So he was simply… expelled.

As if exile could solve what Konoha itself had created.

Perhaps that, too, had planted the seed for his eventual hatred toward Konoha and Hiruzen, so deep that even someone as analytical and detached as him couldn’t suppress it forever.

In the end, no matter how rational he pretended to be, there had to be emotion buried underneath that drive to crush the village, to one day kill Hiruzen with his own hands.

Maybe, in some quiet, twisted way, it was retribution for Nawaki.

And it had never been just because he wasn’t chosen as Hokage.

Orochimaru quickly composed himself again, the faint ripple of emotion vanishing behind his usual smirk.

He didn’t mention that Nawaki had once been his student, nor that the topic had touched something buried deep.

Instead, he replied smoothly, grin curving back into place. “If Tsunade learns this, then the real challenge won’t be convincing her to join us; it’ll be stopping her from tearing the elders apart before we’re ready. I agree with you, Ryusei-kun. You can… hint to Fugaku that it’s in everyone’s best interest if we quietly remain aligned.”

But beneath that calm tone, Orochimaru’s thoughts churned.

He was genuinely surprised that Ryusei had likely found proof about Nawaki.

For all his years inside Root, even with his access, he had never managed to uncover anything concrete about Nawaki’s death, as if it was the most deeply buried secret of the organization that maybe only Danzo knew about.

Of course, he had searched, but not out of sentiment.

Evidence of that operation would have been powerful leverage.

For now, though, all three, Hiruzen, Danzo, and himself, held leverage on one another.

They had his forbidden experiments.

And he, in turn, knew about the village’s buried sins. For example, the Senju purges. 

It was a web of silence, and Orochimaru had survived long enough to understand that sometimes, the only way to win such games… was to wait.

Soon after, their meeting ended the way it always did, without ceremony, without farewells.

Just two dangerous men parting paths with quiet understanding.

However, after a while since he left, Orochimaru kept staring at the back for some reason.

‘Nawaki… Ryusei…’

The thought lingered, curling through his mind like smoke.

In a way, Ryusei was what Nawaki should have become if he’d lived long enough, if he’d learned that blind faith in Konoha only led to graves.

A child born from the Senju legacy, tempered not by ideals but by betrayal, now walking the same ruthless path he himself had taken.

And Orochimaru, unintentionally or not, was helping him do it.

A faint smile touched his lips, something almost human flickering in his eyes.

‘Maybe this is the closest thing to redemption I’ll ever get…’

Then the moment passed, and his expression turned cold again.

Meanwhile, Ryusei’s clone faded into the mist, the air still heavy with Orochimaru’s faint chakra trace.

He had another stop to make.

Since he was already on this front, it was time to visit Tsunade again.

Through his sensory link, he tracked her presence easily, bright, familiar, and powerful.

She was still stationed nearby, overseeing the forward medical base in the northern valleys of Hot Water Country.

Her chakra signature hadn’t changed; it was steady, sharp, and pulsing like a heartbeat under pressure.

He smiled faintly beneath his mask.

“She’s still overworking herself,” he muttered.

Moments later, he blurred through the treeline, silent and swift, slipping past the outer patrols and medical tents.

It didn’t take long before he saw her again, standing near a large wooden table covered in medical charts and reports, giving instructions to her subordinates with that same firm, commanding tone.

Her golden hair was tied high as usual, but loose strands framed her face, sticking slightly from the humidity and exhaustion.

The white coat was half-open, her sleeves rolled up, the faint scent of disinfectant and sake lingering in the air.

Ryusei leaned against a nearby support beam quietly, watching her for a moment before speaking.

“Still saving the world one broken bone at a time, I see.”

Tsunade’s hand froze mid-gesture.

That voice. Calm, amused, far too casual for someone who should’ve been miles away.

She turned slowly, her brow arching. “You,” she said flatly. “I thought you were on the southern line.”

Ryusei’s clone pushed off the beam lazily, arms crossing.

“Relax. The real me’s still where he needs to be. You’re talking to a shadow, remember?”

Her frown deepened. “You’re wasting chakra on this?”

“Please,” he said, tilting his head. “For you? It’s worth it.”

Tsunade pinched the bridge of her nose. “You show up like this, during a war, just to annoy me?”

“Annoy you? No. That’s a side benefit. I need to exchange for something with Orochimaru,” The grin under his mask was obvious even if she couldn’t see it. “He sends his regards, by the way.”

Tsunade crossed her arms, staring at him for a moment, her expression softening just a fraction.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Ryusei. The higher you climb, the harder the fall.”

“Then I’ll just make sure I climb higher than anyone can reach.”

She sighed quietly, muttering something that almost sounded like, “Arrogant little bastard.”

But her tone wasn’t sharp anymore, just weary, and a touch proud.

Ryusei tilted his head, catching her look. “You missed me.”

Tsunade clicked her tongue, looking away. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He chuckled. “You didn’t deny it, though.”

“Keep talking like that,” she warned, “and I’ll put you in the medical ward myself.”

Ryusei smiled behind his mask. “You’d heal me anyway.”

She gave him a look that could kill a lesser man, then turned back to the reports.

“You really came here just to flirt, or is there something worth my time?”

Ryusei was about to respond, but Tsunade’s expression hardened suddenly.

Her eyes narrowed, the warmth from moments ago cooling fast, as she remembered something suddenly.

“I already heard about some of your ‘unofficial’ actions on that front, by the way…” she said quietly. “Katsuyu told me everything.”

Ryusei blinked once. “Ah… the slug snitched?”

He said it playfully, but his grin couldn’t quite hide the tension under it.

‘So that’s why she didn’t want to meet me in the Shikkotsu Forest,’ he thought. ‘The reverse summoning we agreed… she must have been angry after hearing what I’ve been doing…’

Tsunade’s tone sharpened. “Don’t joke. You went around plucking people’s eyes for their dōjutsu, in part thanks to her help. Did I teach you like that and give you the summoning contract for that reason? That’s what she told me, so don’t deny it. You’re no better than people like Danzo or the current Orochimaru in that case. Did I truly misjudge you before?”

He tilted his head slightly, half amused, half thoughtful. “So she told you everything, huh? I should’ve known. She’s known you longer, probably feels more loyal to you than to me.”

Internally, he already expected this. The slug, quiet and obedient as she seemed, had clearly picked up fragments, as she could’ve, of what he’d done and reported them to Tsunade.

It wasn’t betrayal, just duty. And Tsunade, being who she was, had probably ordered her to keep an eye on him as much as she could, like a worried mother watching a dangerous child.

He exhaled softly. “You should understand, Tsunade. This world doesn’t reward saints. If you don’t want to be eaten, you have to eat, to grow, first. I’m not doing it for pleasure, I’m doing it to survive.”

Her jaw tightened, but her glare softened slightly, the anger fading into weary disappointment.

“You always talk like that. Like survival justifies everything.”

“Maybe it doesn’t,” he said quietly. “But if I die, I can’t protect anyone I truly care about.”

She didn’t answer, only looked at him for a long moment before turning away again.

The silence between them thickened, not hostile, but heavy.

Finally, he spoke again, his tone calmer.

“You’ll understand once you see what I’ve found. After that, these things will seem trivial in comparison.”

Tsunade glanced back, frowning slightly. “What do you mean?”

Ryusei’s smile returned, faint and knowing. “Something that’ll make you want to put down that clipboard.”

“But,” he added, glancing toward the medical tents around them, “let’s not talk here…”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep