Shen Mo found the entire scene deeply amusing. Orochimaru, with his grand, theatrical offer of resurrection, clearly intended to exploit Tsunade's profound grief, hoping to bind her to his will.
Unfortunately, Orochimaru, you are operating with hopelessly outdated intelligence.
Confronted with the Sannin's offer, Tsunade suddenly narrowed her eyes, a flash of insight crossing her face. "By the resurrection you speak of, you don't mean the Impure World Reincarnation technique developed by my great-grandfather, do you?"
During her recent return, Hiruzen Sarutobi had, in a moment of weakness, informed her of this S-rank forbidden technique, originally developed by the Second Hokage.
Tsunade understood its horrific nature: the resurrected souls were lifeless husks—unable to age, sleep, taste, or derive any joy from existence. They were puppets, subservient to their controller. It was an ultimate act of disrespect to the dead.
"You are actually aware of the technique?" Orochimaru was genuinely surprised; he had assumed Hiruzen would keep that information strictly confidential.
"If that is what you meant, then your 'resurrection' is utterly meaningless!" Tsunade's gaze hardened, leveling a fierce accusation at Orochimaru.
The Impure World Reincarnation (Edo Tensei)—now in the hands of the erratic rogue ninja—was a terrifying prospect.
"Do you truly not wish to see them again?" Orochimaru's voice grew husky, taking on a sharper edge. "Even if you have somehow forgotten Katō Dan, what about Nawaki? It was your gift, your reckless encouragement, that sent him excitedly rushing onto that treacherous battlefield."
This was the raw, open wound of Tsunade's life. Though the necklace itself wasn't cursed, Nawaki's death was inextricably linked to the excitement her gift had sparked.
Yet, Orochimaru was far too late. The deep regret of the past had been countered by a profound, new resolve.
"You didn't come here out of kindness to discuss this technique with me," Tsunade said, her arms crossed, her eyes cold and unwavering. "Tell me exactly what you hope to gain from me, what your price is, and what your true purpose is for returning to Konoha."
Standing bathed in the sunlight, Tsunade's golden hair seemed to reflect her newfound inner strength. Her face, young and beautiful due to her own Jutsu, showed no hint of the crippling fear that used to define her.
"..."
Orochimaru was left speechless. This reaction was entirely unforeseen. He had never witnessed Tsunade display such unflinching confidence, calm conviction, and mental stability. Her legendary personal weaknesses seemed to have vanished, as if nothing could touch her core stability.
After a prolonged, unsettling silence.
"You have changed drastically; I hardly recognize you. Now, I am even more intrigued by the man who caused this transformation and the nature of his charm," Orochimaru said softly.
Tsunade's indifference to the possibility of seeing Nawaki again defied all logic. Orochimaru's only plausible explanation was the man Tsunade had supposedly taken as a lover—the ultimate cause of her shift.
Tsunade gazed at Orochimaru, deep in contemplation.
Then, she laughed—a sudden, deep, resolute laugh.
"If you are truly so desperate to meet him, there is no harm in granting your wish."
"Ah?" Orochimaru's eyes brightened with predatory anticipation.
Shen Mo, still observing, was momentarily baffled. Is Tsunade truly that naive? Does she intend to drag me into this mess?
"He is not currently within the village," Tsunade clarified, turning to leave. "If you wish to meet him, come with me outside the walls, and I will summon him."
She walked away, seeming unconcerned whether Orochimaru followed or not.
Shen Mo instantly understood the maneuver. She's using me as bait to lure him out.
He recognized the strategy: she wanted to isolate Orochimaru away from the collateral damage of Konoha. Shen Mo's expression turned slightly amused. Tsunade had indeed grown significantly—she was now stable, calculating, and tactically sound.
Orochimaru watched her departing figure, a confident, cold smile forming on his face before he easily fell into step behind her. Whatever Tsunade was planning, he believed his own mastery and preparation would allow him to effortlessly counter it.
Both Sannin, intimately familiar with Konoha's security, easily bypassed the outer patrols and traveled a significant distance to a secluded forest clearing.
"It wasn't necessary to travel this far simply to meet one person," Orochimaru noted, his voice low, acknowledging the distance.
"Undoubtedly,"
Tsunade turned, her smile fading as she clenched her fist, the sound of bone grating against muscle loud in the quiet woods.
The meaning was unambiguous. The Sannin were about to fight.
"I have one last question," Orochimaru maintained his composed smile. "If your intent was to eliminate me, a rogue ninja, it would have been easier to engage within the village walls, where reinforcements are abundant. Why lure me all the way out here?"
Orochimaru scanned the seemingly ordinary forest clearing. There were no detectable signs of traps or ambush.
"Capturing you is not a simple task. A fight within the village would not only harm the populace, but would give you too much chaos to exploit for escape," Tsunade explained, shrugging off her coat and tossing it to the ground. She looked at Orochimaru, an almost expectant fire in her eyes. "Besides... I intend to capture you myself!"
The subtle confidence in her expression was rooted in a certainty: Orochimaru was acting on outdated intelligence and had not yet acquired power from the Jars. This was her best, perhaps her only, window of opportunity.
"After a decade apart, you have certainly become arrogant, Tsunade," Orochimaru drawled. But his aura instantly dropped in temperature, transforming into an almost palpable, predatory killing intent.
"Conveniently, I came here with the exact same intention."
Orochimaru was determined to destroy Konoha, and Tsunade's sudden return—now empowered and resolute—was the single greatest variable in his entire plan. Since he could not control her through the promise of resurrection, the only remaining solution was the simplest one: eliminate the variable.
Former comrades, separated by time and ideology, now stood ready for a devastating, uncompromising clash. Neither hesitated.