Shinju supported Rock Lee as they left the arena.
The silence over the entire venue finally shattered. Whispered discussions rose from all directions, thousands of eyes following the departing backs with complicated expressions.
In the shadows of the VIP seats, a man disguised as an ordinary escorting jonin gripped the armrest of his chair so tightly that the wood creaked under his fingers.
The Fourth Kazekage, Rasa, kept his gaze nailed to the boy's back until Shinju completely disappeared into the darkness of the contestants' passageway. His palms were already slick with cold sweat.
Just moments ago, he had run through a lightning-fast simulation in his mind.
If he unleashed Jiton (Magnet Release) and used his densest gold dust to construct his strongest defensive sand wall, could it block that invisible "wall" the boy had just manifested?
The answer had come to him almost instantly.
No.
He had a terrifyingly clear premonition.
The moment his gold dust touched that power, it would be directly broken down, its structure unraveled, and his control severed in an instant.
The bloodline limit he was so proud of, the power that could suppress the One-Tail Shukaku itself, would be meaningless in front of that boy.
Their entire systems of power were fundamentally different.
For the Fourth Kazekage, his strength lay in manipulating matter. But the other side's power seemed closer to setting the rules.
Rasa's breathing grew a little unsteady.
He began to doubt whether making an enemy of Konoha—making an enemy of such an incomprehensible existence—was really the right choice. His village could no longer afford any kind of failure.
He tore his gaze away from the tunnel and turned to the other "attendee" in disguise beside him—the leader of the Sound Village, Orochimaru.
Orochimaru didn't look at him. Those golden, slit pupils of his were still locked on the direction of the contestants' passage, unfathomable emotions churning in their depths.
Rasa couldn't read Orochimaru's expression, but he could feel it—the disturbance in that normally icy chakra. For him, that alone was enough.
Orochimaru understood the threat posed by the Namikaze family far better than Rasa did. His failure in the Forest of Death was still vivid in his mind. But seeing what had just happened with his own eyes gave him a completely different kind of shock.
Overwhelming power? He had seen that many times. He himself could achieve that.
But creating life out of nothing, reversing grievous damage in an instant—that kind of ability didn't even belong in the category of ninjutsu anymore.
Orochimaru's tongue unconsciously slid across his lips.
His lifelong pursuit, Fushi Tensei (Living Corpse Reincarnation), was, at its core, a technique that stole other people's bodies to extend his own soul's existence.
It was a filthy, rough, forcefully imposed forbidden jutsu—a distortion of the rules of life itself. But what that boy had just displayed was a pure, unadulterated power of life.
That was a divine authority—creation, not theft.
Under such absolute purity, his own pursuit suddenly felt crude and laughable.
Fear rose within him.
And following right behind that fear was an even deeper greed.
If he could obtain that kind of body… if he could decipher the secrets of that power…
Orochimaru finally pulled his gaze away and made a very subtle hand signal toward Rasa. Rasa understood at once. Without exchanging a word, the two stood and left the VIP seats.
They made their way to a basement beneath a building disguised as an ordinary residence within Konoha. This was a hidden Sand Village safe house.
Rasa yanked off the wig and coverings on his head, revealing the full regalia of the Kazekage. He turned, facing Orochimaru, who had likewise shed his disguise, and the anger he'd been suppressing all this time finally burst forth.
"Orochimaru."
His voice was low, echoing through the confined underground space, heavy with accusation.
"The intel you gave me never mentioned that Konoha had that kind of monstrous existence. Even if you knew he was a little 'strange,' how could he be that outrageous?"
"That boy, Shinju… what on earth is he?"
With his back to Rasa, Orochimaru studied a map of Konoha hanging on the wall. His hoarse voice drifted back.
"Intel, Kazekage-dono? When it comes to existences that cannot be understood, any so-called 'intel' is meaningless."
"Cannot be understood?"
Rasa took a step forward, golden sand dust swirling silently at his feet.
"Then what are we doing here? Challenging an enemy we ourselves know absolutely nothing about? Are you using the elite forces of the Sand Village as your lab rats?"
Orochimaru turned around. The disguise on his face was gone, leaving only a solemn wariness.
"I don't know either. He can't be measured by common sense. I thought his power had a limit… but after today, I see I was wrong."
"All I know is that he can resurrect the dead and let them fight with the strength they had at their peak. Right now, Shisui obeys only his orders."
Every sentence from Orochimaru echoed the terrifying thought that had first formed in Rasa's mind back in the arena.
Orochimaru had mentioned these things before. At the time, Rasa had written it off as some high-level puppet technique, or perhaps just exaggerated boasting. He hadn't truly believed it.
But after seeing with his own eyes what Shinju had done on the arena floor, he could no longer lie to himself.
Orochimaru hadn't been lying.
The Konoha he was facing now was no longer that weakened village that could be casually manipulated and carved up at will. If they continued according to the original plan, the outcome would likely be nothing short of a one-way slaughter.
"Our plan…" Rasa's voice had gone dry.
"Plan?" Orochimaru repeated, with a hint of self-mockery. "Kazekage-dono, you still think we're qualified to talk about 'plans'?"
"Our original plan was built on the assumption that the Third Hokage is old, that Konoha's higher-ups are divided, and that their new generation lacks sufficient power."
"But now, that foundation is gone."
Rasa realized this was the first time Orochimaru had ever shown uncertainty toward his own schemes.
Looking at Rasa's ashen face, Orochimaru continued:
"My suggestion is that we revise the original plan."
"Or rather… postpone it indefinitely."
"Otherwise, the one that collapses won't be Konoha—it will be us."
Rasa knew very well that the cooperation between them, built purely on shared interests, had become unstable because of that boy's existence.
If they pressed on, the elite forces he'd brought—himself included—might very well die here.
But if they backed off now, the Sand Village's financial crisis would remain unsolved. The daimyo would further cut their budget, the village would sink into even deeper decline, and his own authority as Kazekage would be utterly destroyed.
He was trapped with no way out.
This feeling—being unable to control the fate of himself or his village—was a suffocating humiliation.
Back in the arena, the preliminary matches were still ongoing.
Naruto, Sasuke, Hinata, and the other rookies from Konoha all defeated their respective opponents without any suspense and successfully advanced.
But after each match ended, the audience's attention quickly drifted away from the victors and back to what had happened earlier. Everything that boy had done still occupied everyone's thoughts.
The finals would be held a month later.
Over that one month, a complete layout targeting the final round had already begun taking shape in Shinju's mind.
What he wanted was not just a simple victory in the Chunin Exams.
He intended to use this opportunity to direct a grand drama—one capable of changing the very balance of the entire shinobi world.
Everything that had happened today was merely the prologue.
He needed everyone to witness Konoha's power. He needed them to feel fear.
Only then could the plan he was about to enact proceed smoothly.
(End of Chapter)
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