Nestled just north of the Land of Fire, the Land of Rice Fields had long been little more than a forgotten corner of the world—scattered ninja clans, isolated villages, and no unified shinobi system.

That changed when Orochimaru arrived.

Now, the snake sannin’s ambitions had taken root here, giving birth to his hidden stronghold: Otogakure—the Village Hidden in the Sound.

Kitazawa traveled north at an unhurried pace until a cluster of looming cliffs came into view. Built into the shadow of those mountains lay the village Orochimaru had carved from secrecy and ambition.

But Kitazawa didn’t approach directly.

Instead, he circled wide, entering a narrow valley to the west.

Before Orochimaru’s rise, the most prominent clan in this land had been the Fūma Clan—once proud, now reduced to remnants.

They had tried to reclaim their former glory by aligning with Orochimaru.

Instead, they’d been used—drained of their strength and left to crumble.

Though they never officially joined Otogakure, the surviving members now acted as its outer sentries, patrolling the borderlands and eliminating any ninja who strayed too close.

In the original history, they had even dared to ambush Jiraiya and Naruto.

Kitazawa soon located their compound—a cluster of rundown buildings hidden among overgrown bamboo.

The Fūma Clan had truly fallen; only three jōnin remained—Fūma Kageno, Fūma Hakka, and Fūma Jishumo.

Kitazawa didn’t engage.

He simply observed from afar, then wove a series of quick hand signs.

A ripple of chakra spread over his body, his appearance shifting—hair turning dark, eyes sharpening, clothes morphing into the uniform of Fūma Hakka.

A perfect transformation.

In this disguise, Kitazawa slipped effortlessly into Otogakure.

With his skill, none of the village’s ninja could see through the jutsu—save for Orochimaru himself.

As long as he stayed clear of the central compound where the Sannin resided, his infiltration would remain unnoticed.

He could have entered openly if he wanted to—but unnecessary risks weren’t his style.

The best plans always came with insurance.

He moved silently through the dimly lit corridors and soon came upon a massive underground hall.

It resembled a gladiatorial arena.

Hundreds of young men and women were fighting fiercely below, their movements desperate, filling the air with the sound of clashing chakra and steel.

Kitazawa narrowed his eyes.

So this is how Orochimaru cultivates his soldiers.

Every one of them was a “genius” the Sannin had collected—some for research, others for experimentation… and a few as potential vessels.

Orochimaru’s obsession with immortality had driven him to perfect techniques like Living Corpse Reincarnation, changing bodies whenever his current one grew too old or damaged.

In the original story, that same desire had made him set his sights on Sasuke—the “perfect vessel.”

After a brief observation, Kitazawa left the underground hall and continued deeper into the village.

Moments later, he saw him—a white-haired kid standing apart from the others, posture elegant yet cold.

Kimimaro.

At this time, he was still healthy—not yet the frail, bedridden shadow he would become years later.

Kitazawa’s mind stirred with a bold idea.

He’d make an excellent addition to the Genius Class.

The rankings there had grown too stable recently; it was time to shake them up.

Kimimaro fit perfectly.

In age, he was about the same as Haku—just two or three years older than Naruto and his peers.

In potential, he could easily rival the top students.

After all, the Shikotsumyaku, his clan’s Kekkei Genkai, was one of the most fearsome in existence—the ability to freely manipulate his own bones as weapons, harder than steel and sharper than any blade.

In close combat, few could stand against him.

And even at range, his attacks were deadly.

Still, there were two problems.

First—the Kekkei Genkai disease that would one day claim his life.

Even Orochimaru and Kabuto hadn’t been able to save him in the original timeline.

But Konoha now had the world’s best medical minds: Tsunade, Shizune, Nono, Kabuto, and Kitazawa himself.

If they worked together, there might be hope.

The second issue was more immediate.

Kimimaro’s loyalty.

He lived only to serve Orochimaru.

If Kitazawa wanted to recruit him, he’d need to confront Orochimaru directly.

That, however, wasn’t out of the question.

In fact, Kitazawa had already planned to propose a cooperation agreement with Orochimaru—allowing him to conduct research for Konoha under strict supervision.

Would Orochimaru accept?

Most likely.

After all, a man obsessed with survival never turned down a lifeline.

Kitazawa continued his survey, encountering Guren—the kunoichi with the rare Crystal Release—but none of the yet-to-be-recruited Sound Four.

It seemed his guess was correct; they were still too young and hadn’t joined Otogakure yet.

Once his reconnaissance was complete, Kitazawa quietly exited the village and began his journey home.

By the time he returned to Konoha the next morning, dawn light painted the village rooftops gold.

He passed through the marketplace, and on his way to the ANBU Base, he caught sight of the new Ocean’s Heart jewelry store.

It had just opened—and the place was packed.

A line stretched out the door, filled with kunoichi and even a few off-duty shinobi.

Kitazawa smiled faintly.

With Tsunade’s backing and the recent hype from the Capital, it wasn’t surprising.

Still, he knew the excitement would cool in time.

After all, ninja life was expensive—weapons, armor, medical costs. Only a handful of jōnin could afford such luxuries long-term.

Reaching his office at the ANBU Base, Kitazawa sat down and unfurled a scroll.

He began writing a detailed report on Otogakure—including the structure of the village, the underground facilities, and the location of the Fūma Clan’s hideout.

If Konoha planned a siege, the Fūma clan would undoubtedly be the first to detect it. They had to be neutralized before any large-scale operation.

Halfway through, Kitazawa paused. Something felt off.

He looked up.

“Konan.”

No response.

He frowned slightly. “Did she return to the Akatsuki already?”

After a moment of silence, he shook his head and went back to writing.

Half an hour later, he set his pen down and reviewed the finished scroll—every detail precise, every risk accounted for.

Satisfied, he rolled it up and rose from his chair.

It was time to report to Tsunade.

Kitazawa arrived at the Hokage’s Office, knocked once, then pushed open the door.

“Tsunade-sensei,” he said, stepping forward and placing a sealed scroll on her desk. “This is the intelligence report on Otogakure.”

Tsunade raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised.

“That fast?” she asked, eyes narrowing in disbelief. “You’ve already gathered intelligence on an entire ninja village—in under two days?”

If it were anyone else, she might’ve assumed they were bluffing.

But Kitazawa wasn’t just anyone.

He was thorough, and when it came to serious matters, never careless.

“Otogakure was founded only recently,” he replied evenly. “There wasn’t much to investigate.”

“…Fair point,” Tsunade admitted, unrolling the scroll.

For a few moments, the only sound in the room was the soft rustle of parchment as she read. Then, closing it, she exhaled through her nose.

“Orochimaru really is something else,” she murmured. “If you give him enough time, Otogakure might grow into a force just below the Five Great Nations.”

Her tone was part admiration, part disdain.

Orochimaru’s ‘academy of geniuses’ reminded her of Danzō’s Root—a cold, efficient system that turned talent into weapons.

It was effective.

And utterly heartless.

She also wondered how he managed to gather so many gifted children in such a short time.

“For now,” Tsunade went on, leaning back in her chair, “the only true threat to Konoha is Orochimaru himself.”

She let out a short chuckle, the tension easing from her voice.

“At first, I was worried Otogakure might cause real damage if we went to war. But from what I see, it’s just a glorified laboratory. The village itself isn’t much of a threat.”

Kitazawa nodded slightly. “Still, there’s one person there worth our attention—Kimimaro. He’s a rare talent, and I think he’d fit perfectly in the Genius Class.”

Tsunade looked up. “Kimimaro?”

“He possesses the Shikotsumyaku—a powerful Kekkei Genkai. But he’s also suffering from a rare Kekkei Genkai disease.”

Kitazawa’s tone was calm but deliberate. “If we can bring him back, it’ll be both an opportunity to strengthen the Genius Class and to study the disease itself. It’s virtually undocumented among Medical Ninja.”

Tsunade’s eyes softened slightly in understanding.

So that’s why he was bringing it up.

He didn’t want the boy dying in the crossfire.

“Hmm… Kekkei Genkai disease.” Tsunade folded her arms. “It’s worth studying, no doubt. But if we do capture him alive, can he be trusted?”

“He only listens to Orochimaru,” Kitazawa admitted. “But if we have Orochimaru in custody, he’ll obey without question.”

Tsunade was silent for a moment, then nodded.

“Alright. I’ll leave that to you.”

She trusted his judgment. Kitazawa was the Genius Class’s instructor—and she knew he’d never endanger his students.

“When should we act?” he asked. “The longer we wait, the more time Orochimaru has to prepare.”

“Hmm…” Tsunade tapped her fingers against the desk, thinking. “Make it Saturday. That gives us two days to prepare.”

Even if it was a small-scale conflict, Konoha couldn’t afford to go in unorganized.

“Understood.”

“Also,” Tsunade added with a sly smile, “I’ll let you handle the op. You know Otogakure’s layout better than anyone now.”

Kitazawa blinked. That wasn’t just delegation—it was military authority.

He’d be the one deciding who went… and who didn’t.

As he left the Hokage’s Office, Kitazawa’s mind was already sorting through potential candidates.

Itachi was essential—his Sharingan could counter Orochimaru’s techniques and genjutsu.

Might Gai was another. If Orochimaru somehow powered up, Gai’s Eight Gates could end things quickly.

Bringing in Hiruzen or Jiraiya was tempting—but risky. They’d never take orders from him or Tsunade. Worse, they might steal the kill.

No, this operation had to be controlled, precise, and quiet.

Besides, Orochimaru’s Edo Tensei hadn’t been perfected yet—Kabuto wasn’t involved at this stage. The jutsu wasn’t nearly as dangerous as it would one day become.

Still, a Sealing Squad was necessary. Edo Tensei or not, sealing was always the best insurance.

As for Orochimaru’s summons—the snakes of Ryūchi Cave—Tsunade’s Katsuyu could easily counter them. The three Sage Beasts were evenly matched by nature.

“Alright,” Kitazawa muttered to himself. “Saturday it is.”

After leaving the Hokage Building, he headed toward the Hyuga residence.

Hiashi had assigned twenty of his clan’s ninja to help produce jewelry, including several jōnin-level artisans.

They might be needed for the coming operation, so he had to brief them in advance.

As Kitazawa walked through the shaded streets, his chakra sense flickered.

“Konan.”

In a swirl of paper, she appeared before him.

“Back from the Akatsuki already?” he asked mildly.

Konan shook her head. “No. I went to the Capital of the Land of Fire.”

Kitazawa raised an eyebrow. “Curious about the necklace?”

“I wanted to see what kind of design could sell for eighty million ryō,” she said truthfully.

A faint smile tugged at Kitazawa’s lips. “Trying to learn from it, then?”

Konan hesitated… then nodded.

He wasn’t surprised. The Akatsuki had always been short on funds. For someone like her—practical, analytical—it was only natural.

“So,” he asked, “what did you learn?”

Konan’s tone shifted, turning thoughtful. “The Land of Rain discovered a silver mine recently. We were planning to sell the raw ore… but now I think we should manufacture jewelry instead.”

Kitazawa nodded approvingly. “Good thinking. Selling ore puts you at the bottom of the chain. Selling finished jewelry moves you up—from supplier to brand.”

“But,” he added, “you’ll face two problems. Design—and clientele.”

Konan’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Explain.”

“Konoha can sell jewelry to the nobles of the Land of Fire because of Tsunade’s connections—and because the Daimyo’s wife is already wearing one of our necklaces,” Kitazawa said. “That opened the door for us.”

He folded his arms. “Akatsuki, on the other hand, can’t do that. You don’t have that kind of political access… and you can’t directly compete with Konoha’s market.”

Konan fell silent, her expression unreadable.

Kitazawa glanced at her sideways. “But if you’re serious about it, I might have a few ideas.”

Her eyes lifted toward him, quietly intrigued.

Kitazawa smiled faintly. “We’ll talk after Orochimaru is taken care of.”

“Design-wise… we don’t have anything yet.”

Konan’s voice was calm, though her expression betrayed a hint of frustration. She had seen the Ocean Heart’s necklaces in the Capital—breathtaking pieces that seemed impossible to replicate.

They weren’t the kind of creations that could come from ordinary artisans.

After a moment of silence, she asked, “Could we sell to the nobles of the other Great Nations?”

It was a cautious question, but sincere.

The Land of Fire was clearly off-limits—competing against Kitazawa was suicide. Yet the smaller nations were too poor to sustain high-end sales.

Kitazawa considered her words before replying. “You could… for a time. But once local merchants catch wind of it, competition will crush your profits. They already have the networks—manpower, transport, and regional leverage.”

He crossed his arms, his tone measured. “Ocean Heart works because it has two advantages: the Daimyō’s endorsement and designs no one else can imitate. Akatsuki has neither.”

Konan fell silent, her sharp mind already turning over the problem.

She understood now—wealth didn’t come just from talent or effort. It came from position.

After a long pause, she looked up at him, eyes glinting with resolve.

“Then… would you consider becoming Akatsuki’s advisor?”

Her words caught even Kitazawa off guard.

He arched an eyebrow. “Oh? And why would I do that?”

“This wouldn’t be charity,” Konan replied quickly. “It would be business. You help Akatsuki earn profits—and we compensate you accordingly.”

Kitazawa smirked faintly. “A profit-sharing deal with an S-rank organization, huh? Interesting.”

“So you’ll accept?” she asked, watching him carefully.

“I don’t see why not.” Kitazawa leaned back, the faintest grin tugging at his lips. “But I’ll expect fair compensation. Either a share of the revenue… or Akatsuki takes certain missions for me.”

Konan blinked. “Missions?”

“Let’s just say,” he replied, “there are things that are… inconvenient for me to do as a Konoha official.”

Konan mulled that over. It wasn’t an unreasonable request. Akatsuki already functioned as a mercenary group — taking paid missions was their bread and butter.

But she had to be careful.

“There’s one condition,” she said finally. “If you’re to act as Akatsuki’s advisor, you’ll need a separate identity. There are… members with deep grudges against Konoha.”

That was an understatement.

Nagato’s parents had been slain by Konoha shinobi.

Sasori’s parents—killed by the White Fang.

Orochimaru, once of Konoha, now a traitor.

And the masked man—Uchiha Obito—whose hatred for the village burned like wildfire.

Even Kakuzu, though from Takigakure, still resented the Leaf for its history with the First Hokage.

If Kitazawa showed up waving a Konoha headband, he’d be attacked on sight.

Kitazawa gave a soft laugh. “A false identity? That’s fine. I can be whoever you want me to be.”

“Then it’s settled.”

Konan inclined her head slightly—a rare sign of respect.

“First,” Kitazawa said, “focus on mining. Build up your silver reserves. Once you’ve stockpiled enough, we’ll talk design—and I’ll charge a design fee.”

Konan nodded without hesitation. “Understood.”

It was a deal. Purely transactional, as he’d said.

“I’m heading to the Hyūga residence,” Kitazawa said, already turning away. “You don’t need to follow.”

Konan nodded once and vanished in a flurry of paper, dissolving into the air.

“Kitazawa!”

Hiashi stepped forward to greet him the moment he arrived.

“I’m here to relay Lady Tsunade’s orders,” Kitazawa said, his expression solemn.

Hiashi’s smile faded instantly. “I’m listening.”

“Form four Byakugan squads—all jōnin, if possible,” Kitazawa instructed.

Hiashi blinked. “Four full squads? That’s sixteen Hyūga jōnin. What’s happening… a war?”

“Half-right,” Kitazawa replied calmly. “Assemble at the Forest of Death by 9 a.m. this Saturday. You’ll receive the mission briefing then.”

Hiashi studied him for a moment before nodding. “Understood.”

Kitazawa turned to leave, his next destination already decided.

The Konoha Military Police Force headquarters.

Fugaku looked up from his desk as Kitazawa entered.

“Clan Head Fugaku,” Kitazawa began directly, “form four Sharingan squads—jōnin-level.”

Fugaku’s brows furrowed. “For what purpose?”

“You’ll be briefed Saturday morning in the Forest of Death,” Kitazawa said. “Lady Tsunade’s orders. And…” he paused, “…make sure Itachi participates.”

Fugaku’s eyes brightened ever so slightly.

Tsunade personally requesting Itachi’s inclusion—that was a sign of trust. Perhaps even acknowledgment.

If this continued, the Uchiha clan’s chances of producing the next Hokage were no longer just a dream.

Kitazawa spent the rest of the day notifying the others—Might Gai, Kakashi, Kosuke, and a dozen elite jōnin he trusted.

Every piece of the plan needed to fall into place.

This time, Orochimaru wouldn’t escape.

Two days passed in silence.

The village seemed calm on the surface, but among the upper ranks, tension brewed like a storm about to break.

Saturday, 9 a.m.—Forest of Death.

One by one, jōnin arrived, gathering under the towering trees.

When they finally looked around, their expressions turned from curiosity to disbelief.

So many elite ninja in one place—it felt less like a mission briefing and more like the start of a war.

Whispers rippled through the crowd.

“Why’s the entire Hyūga clan here?”

“And the Uchiha too…?”

“That’s Gai and Kakashi—what’s going on?”

The tension was palpable.

“Are we… starting the Fourth Great Ninja War or something?” someone muttered under their breath.

——————————–

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