The cold autumn wind began to sweep across the border of the Land of Fire and the Land of Earth, shaking loose dry leaves that never had the chance to touch the ground before being crushed under blood-stained ninja sandals. The seasons had changed, the sky slowly lost its warmth, but the Third Great Shinobi War was still trapped in a sickening swamp of stagnation.
On the front lines of this conflict, no village could truly claim a decisive victory. The contested land borders only shifted a few kilometers forward one week, only to be pushed back the next.
A deadly territorial tug-of-war, paid in full with a very expensive currency: human lives.
Every day, the sight of horse-drawn carriages carrying piles of body bags was a routine that dulled all empathy.
There was always a long list containing the names of young shinobi sent back to their beloved village only in the form of ash urns, or worse, merely blood-caked forehead protectors because their actual bodies were no longer recognizable or recoverable from the front lines.
Seeing all these horrors with his own eyes, Shion finally realized something dark. In his past life, he had heard a statement from an anime show stating that the Third Great Shinobi War was the bloodiest and most resource-draining war in the history of the ninja world.
Now, standing atop puddles of blood and mud, Shion knew that statement was absolutely no dramatic exaggeration. This place was a literal meat grinder from hell.
And unfortunately for Shion, his brief 'vacation' in the village—which he mostly spent locked in his room mourning the remnants of his male pride—had officially ended.
As one of Konoha's valuable military assets, he had to plunge back into that hellish cauldron.
Konoha-Iwa Border Command Headquarters.
The atmosphere in the main base was tense, colored by the back-and-forth rushing of combat ninjas and medical-nin moving quickly like worker bees. Amidst the hustle and bustle, Shion strode toward the central command tent to report.
His appearance, as usual, was an anomaly that drew side-glances. Beneath the standard green combat vest that signified his status as a Chunin, the collar of a pristine white sailor uniform and a softly fluttering pleated mini skirt peeked out. Below that, a pair of black stockings wrapped his smooth, slender legs.
Shion let out a long sigh internally. 'Good thing this damn System has a little leeway to let me wear the Chunin vest over these cursed clothes,' he thought, slightly grateful that the signature Konoha vest at least covered part of his body's silhouette and gave him a thin layer of "honor" as a ninja (even though his mini skirt still continued to claim the gazes of the young shinobi he passed by).
As soon as he pulled back the heavy curtain of the command tent, the thick scent of map ink, parchment, and a faint metallic smell of wet earth assaulted his nose. At the far end of the large map table sat a figure with long, straight black hair and skin as pale as a corpse. His elongated, reptilian golden eyes stared at a pile of reports with a sharp, intimidating gaze.
Orochimaru.
Seeing the Legendary Sannin sitting in the commander's chair, Shion wasn't surprised in the slightest. Even though Minato Namikaze's name was rising like a new star in the village, even the most amateur spies knew that on a border as harsh and brutal as this, the only person in Konoha with the capacity, experience, and strategic ruthlessness fit to be the supreme commander was Orochimaru.
'In this timeline, he is still recognized as one of the loyal protecting heroes of the village,' Shion thought calmly while taking an at-ease stance. 'Although I don't know exactly what year Orochimaru starts his secret genetic experiments on his fellow Konoha citizens, looking at his position at central command right now, his crazy project shouldn't have started on a mass scale yet.'
Shion, along with two other squad commanders who had just returned from a perimeter patrol mission, gave their brief reports in turn. Orochimaru listened intently, occasionally issuing counter-instructions with his low, raspy, hissing voice that carried undeniable authority.
"Report concluded, Commander," Shion finished in a flat tone, bowing his head slightly as a standard sign of respect, preparing to turn around and immediately exit the suffocating tent.
However, just as Shion pivoted on his heel and the other ninjas began stepping toward the exit, that long, cold hissing sound halted his steps.
"I have received your reports. The rest of you may return to your respective posts," Orochimaru said, his golden eyes slowly shifting from the map, piercing through the dim light of the tent and locking straight onto Shion. "But you... stay here. Until everyone else has left this tent."
Shion's footsteps froze in mid-air. The Byakugan veins around his temples even twitched without him realizing it.
The other ninjas glanced at each other, but no one dared question the Sannin's orders. In a matter of seconds, the large tent was empty, leaving only Shion standing rigidly in the middle of the room and Orochimaru staring at him with a gaze full of indecipherable interest.
An oppressive silence fell over the tent.
Cold sweat the size of corn kernels began to slowly seep down the back of Shion's neck. His brain started sounding maximum-level danger alarms. He knew full well that nothing good would come from a mad scientist like Orochimaru asking for alone time inside a closed tent.
'Oh man...' Shion wailed bitterly internally, holding himself back from trembling under the commander's serpentine gaze. 'I beg any god who's listening... please don't let this be something troublesome. And please, don't let this damn System chime in and give me a crazy mission!'
...
Outside the command post tent, the cold border wind swept across Shion's arms, which were now no longer protected by the thick layer of his vest. He stood frozen on the half-muddy ground like an ice statue. His facial expression was blank. His pair of Byakugan eyes, usually sharp, had now lost all the light of life, looking exactly like the dead eyes of a fish displayed at a flea market.
'What in the world just happened...' Shion wailed in torturous silence.
His brain spun hard, comparing this bitter reality with memories from his past life.
'Isn't it true that in every ninja novel or fanfic I've ever read, if the main character is specially called to stay alone in a tent by Orochimaru, it means the Sannin is interested in his talent? Shouldn't he praise me, try to use me, or at least plan to make me a secret experimental subject to dissect my eyes?! Why... why is reality like this?!'
A few moments ago, inside the command tent…
A suffocating silence blanketed the tent as soon as the other squad commanders left. At the end of the map table, Orochimaru stared intently at the figure before him.
Thanks to the absolute buff from the System that negated any gender detection abilities from Dojutsu or Sensory Ninjutsu no matter how high the level, to Orochimaru's eyes and chakra sensors, Shion was a one hundred percent genuine young girl. There was absolutely no doubt about it, biologically or magically.
It was an open secret in the village that among the three Legendary Sannin, not a single one of them had a 'normal' personality.
Orochimaru himself never denied it, and even tended to not care when his peers or the village elders called him weird, eccentric, or obsessed with bizarre things.
However, right now, seeing a young Kunoichi standing tall before him wearing a sailor uniform top, an incredibly short white pleated mini skirt, black nylon stockings, and then having it haphazardly layered with the thick green Konoha Chunin vest…
Orochimaru suddenly felt a strange headache. The Sannin massaged his pale nasal bridge. His brain automatically conjured up the only female face in his circle that he remembered best... or rather, the only one he cared to remember: Tsunade.
His former teammate was a woman with monstrous strength that could split the earth, a heavy-hitting gambler who always lost until she was chased by loan sharks, and a heavy drinker who chugged sake like water.
And now, in front of him, stood a genius Kunoichi from the noble Hyuga clan who apparently had an insane obsession with wearing super skimpy, impractical, and eye-gouging clothes in the middle of a hellish war.
'Could it be...' Orochimaru sighed deeply and wearily internally. 'Why is it that among all the women around me, not a single one of them is sane and normal?'
The fashion combination of the Kunoichi before him was truly a visual anomaly. Chaotic, illogical, and literally hurting the eyes of anyone with any aesthetic sense in clothing.
"Shion..." Orochimaru's hissing voice broke the silence.
"Y-yes, Commander?!" Shion answered promptly, his body tensing up, ready to receive an offer of dark power or a threat of physical torture.
"Choose only one outfit that you want to wear on the battlefield," Orochimaru said with an evaluating gaze filled with aesthetic discomfort. "Combining your... 'unique' clothes with our village's official Chunin vest truly ruins my sight."
Hearing that completely unexpected instruction, Shion's brain experienced a lag for a fraction of a second. Instead of feeling relieved that his eyes weren't being gouged out, the instincts of discipline and panic typical of a subordinate ninja took over before his rationality could kick in.
"But, Commander..." Shion answered innocently, blinking his eyes. "Isn't it against village regulations to not wear the official vest while on duty at the front lines?"
Orochimaru: "..."
Shion: "..."
A silence far deadlier than any lethal elemental jutsu suddenly swallowed the entire contents of the tent. Time seemed to stop ticking.
It took three full seconds for Shion's brain to re-process the sentence structure that had just flowed freely from his own mouth. When the true meaning of that sentence hit his logic, his eyes instantly widened in horror. His blood felt frozen.
'WAIT A MINUTE!' Shion screamed hysterically internally until it felt like his own eardrums burst. 'If I question permission to NOT wear the Chunin vest... that means I'm indirectly implying that I PREFER to take off the vest and keep wearing this sailor outfit and mini skirt?! But Orochimaru never told me to take the vest off! He only told me to pick one!'
To Orochimaru's ears, Shion's spontaneous response just now sounded exactly one hundred percent like the protest of an eccentric teenage girl fighting tooth and nail for her right to wear cosplay on the battlefield instead of official armor!
"W-wait, Commander! That's not what I meant! I-I absolutely didn't mean that, I can explain!" Shion stammered incredibly. He stepped forward in a panic, waving his hands wildly. His face flushed beet red, as if ready to explode from holding back unparalleled embarrassment.
However, Orochimaru seemed to have completely lost interest... or rather, refused to understand the contents of this weird young woman's head any further.
The genius scientist sighed wearily again, then waved his hand with a very firm, dismissive gesture.
"I don't need your explanation. Fetishes are a personal matter," Orochimaru cut in coldly. "Just consider this my written permission and a special exception for you to not wear the vest. Now... get out of my tent before my eyes hurt even more."
Back to the present…
Kicked out. Deemed a crazy girl obsessed with short skirts by one of the most terrifying and brilliant ninjas on the entire continent.
The border wind blew hard again, fluttering the hem of his white sailor skirt, which now danced freely without the green vest obstructing it, revealing a hint of his Zettai Ryouiki feature that immediately drew an awkward throat-clearing from the two tent guards nearby.
Shion slowly bowed his head. He let his long brown hair fall to cover his face, which was engulfed by a cloud of absolute despair. His shoulders slumped downwards.
'Dammit...' Shion wailed bitterly internally, his soul having truly given up on the world.
'Orochimaru-sama... I beg of you, just kidnap me. Please make me your experimental subject... Take my eyes, turn me into a snake monster, do anything as long as I don't have to live with this humiliating misunderstanding...'
...
The border forest was wet with the remnants of last night's rain. The scent of damp earth, rotting pine, and the faint metallic smell of blood mixed together in the cold air. Three shadowy figures darted through the branches of giant trees at high speed.
At the very front, Shion led the patrol formation. Without the green Chunin vest that covered his upper body, the autumn wind directly hit his sailor uniform. The white fabric fluttered with a constant rhythm, while his mini skirt danced, defying the laws of gravity. Miraculously, even though they had passed through thickets and mud, the clothes remained as white as snow and his black stockings remained spotless—a magical miracle from the System that Shion could only be grateful for amidst his despair.
"Halt," Shion hissed suddenly, raising his right fist.
His two teammates, two veteran Chunin whose faces were covered in scars, immediately braked and landed silently on the same tree branch.
Fine veins began to emerge around Shion's temples. "Byakugan!"
The world around him instantly turned monochromatic. Shion's X-ray vision pierced through leaves, tree trunks, and rocks within a radius of several kilometers.
Shion's heart instantly dropped. About two hundred meters from their position, hidden behind perfect earth-element camouflage, four extremely dense clumps of chakra were waiting.
Three of those chakra clumps were equivalent to elite Chunin, but one of them emitted chakra fluctuations that were far larger, heavier, and highly concentrated.
'A Jonin...' Shion thought, cold sweat beginning to seep down his neck. 'One Jonin and three Chunin from Iwagakure. They've already noticed our presence and intentionally set up an ambush formation.'
Before Shion could even give the order to retreat, the ground beneath the tree they were standing on suddenly shook violently.
"Doton: Iwa Nadare! (Earth Release: Stone Avalanche!)"
The giant banyan tree trunk they were standing on shattered into pieces. The ground below exploded, spewing out pillars of sharp rocks that shot into the air like giant spears.
"Scatter!" Shion yelled.
The three of them leaped in different directions. However, the enemy had already calculated their evasion trajectories. While Shion's two teammates were still mid-air, three Iwa Chunin darted out of the mud like ghosts. A barrage of shuriken and explosive kunai filled the air.
BOOM! BOOM!
Chain explosions rocked the forest. One of Shion's teammates took a direct hit from the rock shrapnel of the explosion and was thrown against a cliff with the horrifying sound of breaking bones. His second teammate tried to counter with a fire-element jutsu, but was pierced by two swords from his blind spot by the other Iwa Chunin. In less than thirty seconds, both of Shion's teammates were lying in pools of blood on the muddy ground, completely unconscious.
Now, only Shion was left.
Shion landed gracefully atop a large, flat rock. His breathing became heavy. This wasn't his first time on a battlefield, but this was his first time having to face an enemy Jonin directly in a life-or-death battle without any senior or village legend to protect him. When he faced Minato, it was just sparring. When he was saved by Hiashi, he didn't even get to physically clash with the Jonin fully.
But this time, there was no Hizashi. There was no Minato Namikaze.
There was only him, his Byakugan, and a System that often tortured him more than it helped.
From behind the cloud of dust, a large, muscular man stepped forward. He wore the Iwagakure uniform with a scratched forehead protector. Burn scars covered half of his face, giving off a terrifyingly brutal impression.
Behind him, his three Chunin subordinates spread out, blocking all of Shion's escape routes.
"Heh... Look what we caught today," the Iwa Jonin's voice sounded raspy and heavy, like rocks grinding against each other. His cruel eyes stared at Shion from head to toe. "I heard rumors about Konoha's popular 'White Skirt Fairy'. I thought it was just the bullshit of frightened Genin, but it turns out you're actually real. And you... wear an incredibly seductive outfit for a soldier."
The three Chunin behind him smirked lewdly.
Hearing the verbal harassment, Shion's jaw hardened. Hatred and disgust peaked in his chest. 'Damn perverts. I'll make sure you regret being born with eyes!'
"Finish her off slowly. Don't ruin her pretty face," the Iwa Jonin ordered casually, crossing his arms over his chest, feeling that victory was absolute.
The three Chunin darted forward simultaneously.
Meanwhile, a few kilometers from the battlefield…
Inside the stuffy command post tent, Orochimaru massaged his still-throbbing temples. His head felt dizzy, his eyes still felt 'sore' after being treated to the sight of a weird Kunoichi combining a mini skirt sailor outfit with a Chunin vest. The Sannin felt he needed some fresh air. Fresh air that smelled of enemy blood.
Orochimaru formed a quick hand seal, creating a Shadow Clone (Kage Bunshin) to sit in his place on the commander's chair. Meanwhile, his real body walked casually out of the base, heading toward the front lines.
Orochimaru hopped from branch to branch like a snake slithering through the trees. He hadn't gone far when his sharp sensory instincts caught intense chakra fluctuations from the east.
Driven by curiosity (and the desire to stretch his stiff joints), Orochimaru darted toward the source of the fight. When he arrived and stood hidden atop the branches of a lush banyan tree, his golden eyes narrowed.
Down below, in an open area already destroyed by jutsu, the 'weird' Kunoichi he had just kicked out of his tent was fighting desperately alone against an Iwa Jonin. The corpses of three Iwa Chunin and two unconscious Konoha ninjas lay scattered around her.
Orochimaru watched closely. The girl's clothes were extremely annoying, yes. However, her movements... were incredibly sharp. Efficient. Lethal. The girl used pitch-black batons to parry the enemy's brutal barrage of attacks, while searching for an opening with the patience of a cold-blooded killer.
'Interesting,' Orochimaru smirked, his tongue licking his lips. 'Her talent far exceeds her eye-gouging appearance. I think I'll "help" her a little. It's been a while since my Kusanagi tasted the blood of an Iwa Jonin.'
Orochimaru dropped down from the tree silently, landing on the ground somewhat far behind Shion's position. The Sannin tilted his head back.
His mouth opened wide, unnaturally wide. A white snake slithered out of his throat, and from the snake's mouth, the hilt of the legendary Kusanagi sword was slowly being pulled out.
However, before Orochimaru could fully draw the sword, the climax of the battle in front of him occurred.
In the midst of the fight, the Iwa Jonin made a fatal mistake due to overconfidence in his stone armor. He swung a massive, wide punch.
Shion ducked low, letting the stone fist miss over his head. Shion's mini skirt fluttered, and the magical charm of the Zettai Ryouiki feature once again toyed with the opponent's focus. The Jonin's eyes were subconsciously distracted toward Shion's thighs for an eleventh of a second.
That pause was enough.
Shion spun his black baton, focusing all of his remaining chakra into the tip of the weapon, and thrust it with full force into the only blind spot of the enemy's earth armor: the armpit, which connected directly to the heart.
STAB!
The black baton pierced flesh and crushed the Iwa Jonin's heart. The muscular man's eyes widened in horror, before blood finally spurted from his mouth. His massive body collapsed to the ground with a loud thud. Dead instantly.
Silence.
The forest wind blew, scattering the dust of battle.
Shion stood, his body trembling violently. His breathing was ragged. Sweat flooded his face and neck. He had pushed past his physical limits. His muscles screamed, and his chakra reserves had truly hit rock bottom. The veins around his eyes slowly vanished as the Byakugan automatically deactivated.
'It's over... I managed to survive...' Shion moaned internally, feeling as if half his soul had floated away.
He held the long black baton, covered in the enemy's blood, in his hand.
Because he wasn't carrying any storage scrolls, Shion's exhausted brain, half-insane from adrenaline, subconsciously remembered the System's bastard reward feature: [The Skirt That Holds Everything!]
'To hell with pride. No one's watching me here anyway,' Shion thought resignedly. He was too tired to care. His teammates were unconscious, and the enemies were dead.
With a movement that looked incredibly natural yet visually utterly absurd, Shion used his left hand to lift the front hem of his sailor mini skirt slightly upward. Then, with his right hand holding the meter-long, pitch-black iron baton, he shoved (inserted) the long, hard object directly into his crotch area... or rather, into the invisible Pocket Dimension portal hidden beneath the skirt.
The long black baton was swallowed slowly as if entering a bottomless magic pouch, disappearing completely behind invisible laced panties.
After the baton vanished, Shion released the hem of his skirt, letting it fall back to cover his thighs neatly as if nothing had happened. He sighed in relief, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
However, amidst that relief, his shinobi instincts suddenly caught another presence. The hairs on Shion's neck stood up. He whipped his body around quickly.
There, standing about fifteen meters away among the corpses of the enemy ninjas and his unconscious Konoha teammates... stood Orochimaru.
The Legendary Sannin stood frozen like a wax statue. His head was still slightly tilted upwards. His mouth was open incredibly wide. A white snake protruded from his throat, and the hilt of the Kusanagi sword was only pulled halfway out of the snake's mouth.
Orochimaru's posture was completely halted. His reptilian golden eyes, usually full of calculation, coldness, and cunning, were now wide open, staring straight at Shion with a blank gaze filled with a confusion that couldn't be explained by any science.
As a genius scientist who had performed thousands of crazy body modifications, Orochimaru felt he had seen everything in this world. Storing a sword in the stomach of a snake inside his throat was 'normal' for him.
But, seeing a beautiful 'girl' lift her mini skirt and shove a long, hard, blood-stained black iron pole straight through her crotch until it vanished without a trace... that was a biological terror that successfully caused the Sannin's brain to experience a fatal error.
The cold border wind blew again, carrying remnants of dry leaves that drifted between the two of them.
Shion, his face now paler than the corpse next to him, stared at the sword protruding from Orochimaru's mouth.
Orochimaru, with the Kusanagi sword still stuck in his throat, stared at Shion's mini skirt.
Shion: "..."
Orochimaru: "..."