The night over Konoha was unusually dark, as if the sky itself had been soaked in ink.
Deep within the Forest of Death, shadows coiled through the undergrowth like living serpents, their sleek forms gliding around the mouth of a stone cave nestled in a rocky slope.
Hiss… hiss…
Something had drawn their attention. The snakes raised their heads, flicking blood-red tongues as they scanned the darkness.
High in the distant trees, several masked black figures appeared without a sound, silent as owls. The snakes never noticed them.
"Is this the place?"
Sarutobi Hiruzen, clad in light armor, stood on a branch with a grim expression. He stared toward the pitch-black cave mouth and muttered, his voice heavy with complicated emotion.
"Disperse."
At his quiet command, the black figures scattered instantly, fanning out like dark wings to envelop the entire area in a web of beaks and claws.
This was the ANBU assassination squad—efficient, ruthless, and ice-cold.
Lately, too many Konoha genin, chunin, and even ANBU operatives had vanished without trace. ANBU members were at least skilled chunin; in the village they were pillars of strength. Even with Shimura Danzō covering things up in the shadows, the disappearances couldn't be hidden forever.
The incidents had finally reached Sarutobi Hiruzen, who had been busy handling border conflicts with the Land of Fire. The moment he heard the reports, his mind turned to the recent rumors about Orochimaru's suspicious movements…
"Orochimaru…"
After a long silence, Hiruzen and two ANBU operatives vanished into the night, leaving only a sigh that sounded equal parts disappointed and regretful.
Meanwhile, far below the cave, inside a labyrinth of cold, damp drainage tunnels…
Drip… drip…
The only sound was sewage splashing into stagnant pools.
Yet in one vast, dimly lit chamber, the space had been transformed into a secret laboratory.
"No matter how many times I see it, this body's perfection still takes my breath away."
Orochimaru gazed at the lifeless but intact corpse on the operating table. Greed and hunger practically overflowed from his eyes.
He had traveled the ninja world and seen many well-preserved ancient bodies, but they were always grotesque—skulls twisted, eyes bulging, limbs swollen and bursting through clothing.
This one was different. The face was exquisitely refined, almost inhumanly beautiful. The skin was pale and flawless, the black hair lustrous, even the eyelashes remained intact. With eyes closed, it looked as though the boy had simply fallen asleep.
Only the shriveled torso showed signs of dehydration, and the muscles in the limbs had atrophied.
Orochimaru was certain the youth was dead, yet the body still carried a strange vitality.
It felt as if the "soul" had slipped its bonds, leaving behind an empty but still-living shell…
"So this is the power of the Ōtsutsuki clan," Orochimaru murmured, chest rising and falling. He licked his dry lips with the tip of his tongue.
According to ancient Hyūga records, the Ōtsutsuki were the mighty race that had created chakra and ninjutsu. It made sense that their life force and souls would be extraordinary.
Even so, their blood ran just as red as anyone else's.
If he could transplant every organ from this body, he might even reverse-engineer his own physique and bloodline, gaining unmatched ninjutsu talent and vitality.
Only someone with his mastery of organ and cellular transplantation could perform such a procedure. Not even Tsunade could manage it.
It felt almost as if the body had been prepared specifically for him.
His gaze shifted to the second operating table, where a pair of white eyes trembled with fear.
The boy lying there was only fifteen—close in age to the corpse. Long black hair spilled across the table like silk. His young face was pale and tense, and the "Caged Bird" curse seal on his forehead stood out sharply.
In all of Konoha—in the entire ninja world—only the Hyūga clan possessed those pure white eyes. And only branch-family members bore the ugly Caged Bird seal.
Hyūga Kumokawa.
That was the boy's name.
The Ōtsutsuki corpse and the ancient texts recording the Hyūga clan's deepest secrets had both been willingly offered to Orochimaru by Hyūga Kumokawa.
According to those texts, the Hyūga were direct descendants of the Ōtsutsuki. The compatibility for transplantation should be perfect, with almost no risk of rejection or complications.
"Kumokawa, only the heart remains. Are you ready?"
Orochimaru wore a soft, sinister smile and deliberately dropped the honorific, calling the boy by his given name alone. The familiarity suggested either intimacy or overwhelming superiority. In this case it was clearly the latter—the arrogant claim that "everything you are belongs to me."
And it was true.
Orochimaru had already placed a curse seal on him. Once the organ transplant was complete and the soul-transfer technique perfected, he would find a way to break the Caged Bird seal and claim this flawless body for himself.
With the curse seal in place, Orochimaru had no fear that things would slip from his control. After all, the boy was nothing but a so-called "failure" in the eyes of the Hyūga clan.
"Lord Orochimaru, please proceed."
Hyūga Kumokawa's expression showed terror, yet his voice was steady. His white eyes gazed at Orochimaru with open adoration and gratitude. "You killed that old man and avenged my parents. I gladly offer you this worthless body of mine."
Orochimaru smiled. Sneaking into the Hyūga compound to assassinate a main-family elder had cost him considerable effort. By now his "beloved teacher" had probably realized who was responsible.
He had no choice. The surgery required total concentration, along with life-sustaining sealing techniques. He had no spare energy to maintain a genjutsu that would keep the subject unconscious. The boy had to remain fully aware.
So Orochimaru had granted Kumokawa's request and eliminated the main-family elder who had driven his parents to their deaths. Only then would the boy cooperate willingly.
It didn't matter. Orochimaru had grown tired of Konoha long ago. If he could obtain the secrets of the Ōtsutsuki clan, even defection would be worth it.
"Lord Orochimaru, what exactly are you trying to do?"
The last person in the lab spoke up—an elderly man in a white coat. He was the missing director of Konoha Hospital, a medical specialist secretly cultivated by Danzō, codenamed "Owl."
Owl stared at Orochimaru with a mix of shock and overwhelming fear.
Orochimaru ignored him. The old man would obey soon enough.
Pushing aside the last stray thought, Orochimaru confirmed that everything was ready and activated the complex sealing array beneath their feet.
A low hum filled the air.
Black seal patterns spread across Kumokawa's body, restraining him while feeding him chakra. At the same time, the external blood-circulation device whirred to life—tubes already inserted into the aorta and both venae cavae.
Kumokawa's kidneys, liver, pancreas, gallbladder, and other organs had already been replaced with those from the Ōtsutsuki corpse. Only the most critical and dangerous organ remained: the heart.
Orochimaru condensed chakra into a scalpel. The blade traced along bone and muscle, opening the chest cavity to reveal the vivid red organs inside. With absolute focus he excised the living heart, carefully preserving portions of the left and right atrial walls.
He then removed the Ōtsutsuki heart from the corpse. Though still and quiet, it remained blood-red. Orochimaru lifted it with both hands almost reverently, yet his movements never faltered.
The Ōtsutsuki heart was placed inside Hyūga Kumokawa's body.
"You're actually attempting a heart transplant?" Owl's voice shook. "You think the two of us can handle this alone?"
"I believe you can," Orochimaru replied coldly, glancing at the old man. "Because if you can't, the next steps will get rather bloody. Don't you agree?"
Owl's wrinkled face twitched, but he stepped obediently to the operating table.
Orochimaru began suturing the blood vessels. His technique was crude and reckless—one faulty vessel and the recipient would slip into immediate cardiac arrest.
Yet under the precise work of both men, a massive surge of chakra poured into Kumokawa's body, supplying an endless stream of vitality. It was nothing short of a miracle keeping him alive.
Minutes ticked by. Orochimaru's stored chakra gradually depleted.
Fortunately, the vessels were beginning to knit together. Even the cross-shaped incision on the chest was closing under the power of the Mystical Palm Technique.
"Only one step left. I'll release the life-sustaining barrier."
Exhausted from chakra depletion, Owl could barely stand. Orochimaru's already pale face had turned deathly white. He stared fixedly at Kumokawa's body and whispered, "Kumokawa… don't disappoint me."
Success now depended entirely on whether the boy could withstand the power.
The power of the Ōtsutsuki clan.
THUMP!
A deep, drum-like heartbeat echoed through the chamber. Veins and vessels crawled visibly across Kumokawa's skin like a network of faintly blue-green leaves.
On the monitors, the life signs that had been artificially sustained suddenly spiked violently.
"AAHHH!!"
Even though Kumokawa had steeled himself, the agony that felt as if it would tear his entire body apart tore a raw, hysterical scream from his throat.
Blood pumped from the new heart roared through his veins like molten iron. Countless capillaries on the surface of his exposed skin burst open. His body temperature skyrocketed to a scalding heat, as though liquid fire rather than blood now flowed through him.
"Use your own chakra! Use it to suppress and control the heart—calm it down!" Orochimaru ordered.
A web of blue veins surged around Kumokawa's eyes. The chakra erupting from within made Orochimaru's pupils shrink.
But the struggling body suddenly went rigid. The rapidly climbing vital signs on the monitors halted, then plummeted at a terrifying rate. Shrill alarms blared through the lab.
"Damn it!" Orochimaru's expression darkened instantly. "The Hyūga should be the most compatible host—how could he fail so quickly?!"
If even Kumokawa couldn't endure it, he would have to seize someone from the main family instead.
There was no time. He had to cut the heart out while it was still viable and preserve it again.
Orochimaru began gathering the last of his chakra to form a scalpel.
…THUMP.
A faint sound reached his ears. His hand froze mid-motion. He snapped his head up to look at the boy.
THUMP!
Kumokawa's eyes remained tightly shut, yet a heavier beat now resonated from his chest—clearer than before.
The laboratory fell deathly quiet. Only the heartbeat sounded deafening.
THUMP! THUMP-THUMP!
The dull rhythm grew from a gentle patter to a thunderous drumroll, pounding powerfully inside his ribcage.
"This is…"
Uncontrollable joy spread across Orochimaru's face. He stepped lightly toward the boy as though approaching the very truth of the world. His golden, slit-pupiled eyes flicked to the monitors.
Sure enough, the vital signs were stabilizing. Every reading had climbed to inhuman levels—vibrant, terrifyingly powerful.
Which meant… it had finally…
"Yes."
A soft voice answered him, gentle as a beautiful fairy tale.
"It's finally succeeded," the voice said.
Orochimaru froze in delighted shock. On the operating table, the figure slowly opened his eyes.
He met a pair of eyes that were both familiar and utterly alien.
The once-pure white Byakugan now shimmered with iridescent depth under the surgical lights, flowing like molten glass between pale turquoise and white.
Yet that was not what struck Orochimaru with such strong unease.
It was the complete absence of emotion in those eyes—calm and bottomless, like a still, unfathomable pool of dark water.
The blood that had sprayed across his skin evaporated instantly in the searing heat. Crimson mist rose from his body, veiling his face in a hazy red haze.
Blood surged through his vessels like spring thaw. Every cell breathed greedily, like new shoots bursting through stone. Unparalleled power flooded his limbs and bones.
"You…"
Owl, watching from the side, eyes wide with shock, opened his mouth to speak.
But the next instant—
Schlick!
The blade moved with terrifying speed. There was no pain, only cold death.
A wind softer than the night breeze seemed to pass. The sound of flesh being pierced was faint, swallowed instantly by silence.
Orochimaru instinctively turned his head. A tiny tearing sound followed, and a faint sting brushed his cheek.
A thin red line crept across his face, inch by inch, until it stopped at the cheekbone. Blood bloomed like scattered petals, then trickled wetly down his jaw.
Owl, still dazed, suddenly saw the world tilt and spin.
Thud!
The headless body collapsed to its knees. Blood gushed from the severed neck like a fountain, raining crimson across the lab.
The head hit the floor with a crisp, melon-splitting crack and rolled, leaving a bloody trail. The face still wore a trace of confusion, eyes staring sightlessly into the growing pool.
The severed neck continued to spray like a geyser, bathing the two remaining figures in a shower of blood.
"I've waited far too long for this day."
Hyūga Kumokawa sat up. He looked at the chakra scalpel still formed in his palm, watched the blood roll off his fingers like water off green leaves, then raised his eyes to Orochimaru and smiled.
"A night like this should be utterly silent."
Three years. Three years after three more years…
He had finally perfected the talent of this frail body, claimed the true Ōtsutsuki bloodline that belonged to him, and…
[Your lie (Ōtsutsuki corpse and descendant) has been judged as [Full Immersion][Honeyed Words, Hidden Dagger][Turning Deception into Reality]. Orochimaru's emotions have reached [Complete Belief]. You have gained 10,000 Reality Points.]
[Evaluation: A bewitching trick, like shadows dancing on a wall—even the smallest person can cast an enormous shadow.]
[Remaining Reality Points: 10,041]
"…"
Orochimaru stared at the young face. In his memory it had always worn a look of timid fear.
Now the curse seal on the boy's neck was fading, and a deep, quiet smile curved his lips.
Like a child who had pinned an ant to the ground, watching it struggle between his fingers before calmly crushing it.
Pure and unadulterated malice.