Uchiha orphan, so what if I'm ruthless?

Konoha, Forest of Death.

The trees here were far denser than the woods surrounding the village. Their trunks were thicker, and their canopies so tightly woven that they blotted out the sky, leaving the ground in near-total darkness.

A thick layer of fallen leaves carpeted the ground. The air was heavy with the scent of decay, mixed with the damp smell of earth, giving the entire area an ancient, stagnant atmosphere.

Somewhere deep underground in this Forest of Death lay a hidden laboratory.

The entrance was concealed behind a massive oak tree. A hollow at the tree's roots was obscured by thick bushes; unless one knew exactly where to look, it was impossible to find.

The opening was narrow, only wide enough for one person to squeeze through. However, once inside, the passage gradually widened until it became a corridor spacious enough for two people to walk side by side without feeling cramped.

The corridor's walls were cast in solid concrete. Every few meters, a bright white light fixture was embedded into the wall, illuminating the entire passage.

At the end of the corridor stood a thick metal door. Beyond it was a sprawling laboratory, several times larger than a standard civilian house.

The laboratory walls were pristine white. The high ceiling was studded with numerous lights, casting a bright, shadowless glare over the entire room.

On one side of the room sat several operating tables covered in various beakers, flasks, and instruments. Some containers held brightly colored liquids, while indicator lights blinked steadily on the machinery.

On the opposite side stood rows of shelves packed with jars and bottles. These containers preserved all sorts of specimens—some looked like organs, others like tissue samples, and some were completely unrecognizable.

A figure stood before the innermost operating table.

He wore a white lab coat with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing lean but muscular forearms. His long hair cascaded over his shoulders, with a few stray locks falling forward to obscure half of his face.

His long, slender fingers, encased in thin rubber gloves, were currently manipulating a container on the table.

The transparent glass container held a writhing mass.

The mass was blood-red, resembling a small chunk of muscle tissue. However, it wasn't dead. It squirmed and pulsed within the glass, constantly shifting its shape—contracting into a tight ball one moment and stretching out the next. It was an incredibly eerie sight.

The man standing at the table was Orochimaru. He kept his head bowed, his eyes locked onto the writhing flesh, a faint, focused smile playing on his lips.

A knock echoed from the laboratory door.

Three rhythmic taps.

Orochimaru did not look up.

"Come in."

His voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly through the quiet lab.

The door pushed open, and another figure in a white lab coat stepped inside.

The newcomer was a young man, around twenty years old, with silvery-white hair and round-framed glasses. He walked briskly, stopping just behind Orochimaru to drop to one knee and bow his head.

"Lord Orochimaru, Uchiha Itachi has left the village and engaged in combat with Uchiha Shisui just outside the borders."

He paused for a moment before briefly summarizing the course of events.

"Both of them possess the Mangekyo Sharingan. This was witnessed by multiple people and has been confirmed."

Having delivered his report, he fell silent, keeping his head bowed as he waited for Orochimaru's response.

Orochimaru's hands paused slightly. He still didn't look up, his gaze remaining fixed on the lump of flesh, but his lips parted in a wide grin, baring his teeth.

"Is that so?"

His voice was soft.

"Itachi-kun has truly given me a pleasant surprise."

As he spoke, he tapped his finger lightly against the glass container twice, producing a crisp clinking sound. His expression barely changed, but the sheer delight in his tone was impossible to fake.

The young man kneeling behind him kept his head down, his expression hidden. He seemed completely unfazed by Orochimaru's reaction, offering neither agreement nor questions.

"Lord Hokage, how should we handle this matter?"

The young man's voice remained perfectly steady.

Orochimaru moved his hand away from the glass container, reached across the table, and picked up a piece of gauze to wipe his fingers.

His movements were slow and meticulous, wiping each finger one by one, from thumb to pinky, first on one hand and then the other.

"There is no need to pay it too much attention."

Orochimaru's tone was casual, as if discussing something entirely trivial.

"Simply notify Clan Head Fugaku."

He tossed the gauze back onto the table, turned around, and looked down at the kneeling figure.

"But... Lord Orochimaru, if we do that, we will lose our observation target."

Orochimaru's smile didn't waver. He placed a hand gently on the young man's shoulder. "Do not be impatient, Kabuto. Some things cannot be rushed. Go."

The young man named Kabuto was, of course, Yakushi Kabuto. Hearing this, his expression shifted slightly. He replied with a crisp "Yes," stood up, and turned to leave.

Silence returned to the laboratory.

The only sound was the faint, sizzling noise coming from the writhing mass of flesh in the glass container, sounding almost as if it were breathing.

Orochimaru stood there, watching the flesh, the smile never fading from his lips.

After a moment, he sealed the container on the table, took off his gloves and lab coat, and retrieved his Hokage robes from a nearby coat rack, slipping them on.

Once he was finished, Orochimaru left the laboratory, walked down the corridor, pushed open the door, and returned to the surface.

Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, dappling his face. He squinted slightly against the glare before heading toward Konoha.

The Hokage's office was located in the center of the village, offering a sweeping view of Konoha from its windows.

When Orochimaru stepped into his office, it wasn't even noon yet. The orange sunlight poured through the windows, bathing the room in warm hues.

He walked behind his desk, sat down, picked up a stack of documents, and began to read.

Not long after, the door was pushed open, and someone strode in.

The visitor hadn't bothered to knock, a rudeness Orochimaru seemed long accustomed to.

The man didn't even look at Orochimaru. He walked straight to the sofa opposite the desk and sat down.

The visitor was none other than the Third Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen.

Compared to ten years ago, Hiruzen had aged considerably.

His hair was completely white, and the wrinkles on his face were far more numerous and deeply etched than before, as if carved by a knife. His skin sagged, heavy bags hung beneath his eyes, and the corners of his mouth drooped. He looked like a tree bending under an invisible weight—his back was no longer straight, and his shoulders were slightly hunched.

He gave off the impression of a man with one foot in the grave, looking as though he might collapse at any moment.

Yet, his eyes were still sharp, possessing a piercing clarity that only came from a lifetime of experience.

Without any pleasantries, Hiruzen got straight to the point the moment he sat down. "Uchiha Itachi has left the village. This matter must be dealt with immediately. Otherwise, the fallout will be disastrous."

Orochimaru didn't even lift his head, continuing to flip through his paperwork.

His fingers turned the pages with a soft rustling sound. His expression remained completely placid, as if he hadn't heard Hiruzen at all.

However, he did offer a response.

"There is no need."

His tone was dismissive.

"Things are fine just the way they are."

With that, he turned another page.

"Besides, I've already had my people lock down the information. There won't be any major fallout."

Hiruzen furrowed his brow.

As he frowned, the wrinkles on his face deepened, making his skin look like crumpled fabric.

"Unacceptable. We absolutely cannot allow the Uchiha clan to get any dangerous ideas. You should know exactly why Itachi left."

He stared at Orochimaru, his gaze heavy.

"If he actually manages to find that man, it will spell disaster for the village."

Orochimaru's hand paused. He finally looked up at Hiruzen, the corners of his mouth curling into a faint smile.

"Sensei."

He lowered his voice so that only the two of them could hear.

"Over the years, I have already reactivated Root, just as you wished."

He set the documents down and leaned back in his chair.

"I have also placed restrictions on the Uchiha clan."

He paused. "At this point, we shouldn't escalate things any further."

Hiruzen's expression darkened.

"Orochimaru, times like these are precisely when we must be the most vigilant!"

His voice rose in volume.

Orochimaru shook his head. The movement was slight, but the meaning was absolute.

"I have already made my decision."

He looked at Hiruzen with calm, unyielding eyes.

"You should stop interfering, Sensei."

Hearing this, Hiruzen's face turned incredibly sour. He glared at Orochimaru for a long moment before finally standing up.

His movements were sluggish. He swayed slightly as he rose from the sofa, having to grip the armrest to steady himself.

Knowing he couldn't sway Orochimaru's mind, he didn't waste any more breath and headed straight for the door.

Pulling the door open, Hiruzen paused on the threshold without looking back.

"You will regret this, Orochimaru."

Sitting behind his desk, Orochimaru watched Hiruzen's retreating back, his smile unwavering.

"I am the Hokage, Sensei."

His voice wasn't loud, but the words were crystal clear.

*Bang!*

The door slammed shut.

Orochimaru kept smiling as he casually tapped his fingers against the desk.

A moment later, a figure "flowed" out from a framed portrait on the wall. Like a blob of thick ink, it slid down the wall and pooled on the floor.

The ink then began to expand, forming into a human shape in mere seconds.

The figure's clothing quickly solidified—a standard outfit worn beneath blue armor, with crack-like markings marring his face.

"Lord Second, how would you evaluate your student?"

The person who had just appeared was none other than Senju Tobirama.

He spoke expressionlessly, "He handles matters with some stability, but he fails to grasp the core of the issue. He only knows how to blindly execute the policies I established back in my time."

Orochimaru chuckled. "Quite foolish, isn't it?"

Senju Tobirama remained silent.

Orochimaru lowered his head. "Never mind. In any case, Root has already been handed over to you."

Tobirama said nothing more. His figure dissolved back into an ink-like substance and flowed up into the picture frame.

And inside that frame was a portrait of Senju Tobirama himself.

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