Chapter 41: Want to Understand Him
The noise in Konoha showed no sign of fading. Members of the Uchiha Police Force were busy hauling away troublemaking shinobi, dragging them into cells one after another.
The Uchiha were, by nature, emotional and intense. When faced with open provocation, restraint was not in their blood. Their strikes often landed harder than intended, sometimes drawing blood—and each incident only deepened the rift between clans.
Conflicts broke out daily, and because the Uchiha served as the village's guards, every clash spread further, inflaming Konoha's fragile order.
Yet such scenes had long become routine, almost a part of village life. They stirred no real shock anymore. What stood out instead were the calm figures dressed in haori who moved through the chaos—not to fight, but to soothe.
These were Aizen's followers. Or perhaps more accurately, they were people he had once guided, healed, or inspired. Each of them carried his teachings, speaking of the Will of Fire not as an empty slogan, but as a living ideal.
They mediated fights, healed wounds, and spoke gently about unity. They used medical ninjutsu freely, treating friend and foe alike. And because of them, even the Uchiha—so often scorned—sometimes paused, reflecting on their anger.
These disciples worked tirelessly, without prejudice or expectation. To them, there were no classes, no clans, no borders—only the shared warmth of human life under the Will of Fire.
Their quiet compassion brought a rare sense of humanity to Konoha. Many shinobi, moved by their sincerity, began to question their own hatred, choosing instead to resolve disputes peacefully.
Downstairs in a small restaurant, a few injured shinobi from rival clans sat side by side, being treated by these healers. Their wounds were cleaned and bandaged, and before long, apologies were exchanged. The bloodshed that might have followed ended before it began.
But elsewhere, within the same building, the true leaders of Konoha had no time for such small miracles.
In a quiet upper room, Orochimaru leaned back, studying Tsunade with a look of disbelief that bordered on amusement.
"…Huh? You're telling me that was Aizen?"
Tsunade sighed, rubbing her temples. "You've already guessed it. Why are you still so surprised?"
"No, I'm surprised because I was right." Orochimaru frowned, tapping his fingers against the table. "Aizen's… flaw is too obvious. The haori, the abilities—all of it feels deliberate. Everything he does seems more like a performance of power than an act of malice. It's as if… it's not really him. Are we certain it is?"
"That should be it…"
"Then why does everyone who works with him start doubting themselves?"
"Because," Tsunade murmured, swirling her sake, "Aizen never lies. And he doesn't do anything wrong. He just stands there, watching, working quietly like nothing in the world concerns him."
Her voice trembled slightly. She began to recount to Orochimaru the strange story of how she had joined Aizen's team.
Yes, Aizen could be sharp-tongued, even cruel in speech—mocking their ideas, questioning their intellect. But his dedication to work was absolute.
Tsunade often saw several "Aizens" working together, debating theories, exchanging data, developing techniques with mechanical precision. They would consult her on medical principles, seek her input on anatomy, chakra flow, and cellular structure. And more often than not, she found herself learning from them.
Mistakes she had once dismissed as minor—Aizen exposed them effortlessly.
He wasn't a conspirator. He was a scholar. A scientist so consumed by research that he ignored politics entirely.
And what she saw in his research frightened her.
Within Aizen's reach were ideas far beyond their current understanding: how chakra moved through the human body; how it interacted at the cellular level; how its energy could be converted, fused, or exchanged. These discoveries could reshape the entire foundation of medical ninjutsu.
That was why Tsunade had joined in the first place—out of curiosity and unease. Yet the more she saw, the more she doubted her own legacy.
Was she really the founder of medical ninjutsu? Or just the first person bold enough to claim it?
Even though Aizen constantly expressed disdain for chakra as a concept, his mastery over it was unparalleled. He seemed to regard chakra not as a gift, but as a primitive tool.
And he shared everything.
Whenever Aizen completed a breakthrough—whether in medicine, chakra theory, or experimental ninjutsu—he would immediately archive his work in the Konoha library and research division. No secrecy. No conditions.
It confused her deeply.
Was this man a rebel—or the purest idealist Konoha had ever seen?
Tsunade didn't know anymore.
Watching Aizen stride ever forward—relentless, tireless, unshaken—she felt something inside her crumble.
Her old convictions, her doubts, even her pride as a Sannin… all seemed meaningless before his quiet, unstoppable progress.
"Aizen said he's already done everything he could for Konoha," Tsunade muttered, her eyes dim as she swirled the wine in her cup. "That the real choice shouldn't come from him—but from the people of Konoha. I… didn't know how to refute that."
She took a long sip, her expression caught between awe and confusion.
"He said he hopes the world will change for the better. That everyone should be able to take the leap they desire. He spoke about courage—that people need it, and that the world itself depends on everyone's efforts." Her voice grew quieter. "I know he's right. Every word of it makes sense. But when he said it… it felt strange."
Orochimaru tilted his head, watching her closely. For once, he found himself without words.
What could one even say about someone like Aizen?
He was a master of ninjutsu development. The Blut Vene and the Blut Arterie—two inventions that had reshaped the very foundation of ninja warfare—were his creations. Most other jutsu relied on chakra capacity or power, but Aizen transcended both. His understanding of chakra science had created an entirely new discipline of combat.
And despite it all, Aizen Sosuke remained an enigma. A genius of unparalleled depth. A visionary scientist. A man universally respected throughout Konoha.
If he had ever chosen to, he could have easily become Hokage. With his influence and intellect, conquering the Five Great Nations wouldn't have been a dream—it would have been a plan.
But he didn't.
He stayed where he was. Calm. Detached. Unmoving.
What was he trying to do?
Or perhaps, Orochimaru thought, Aizen truly meant what he said—that he simply wanted to see the world become better.
But what is better, in his eyes?
Would he consider it "good" if Konoha's technologies were stolen and used by rival villages?
Or was his vision something far grander than nations or borders—something that even Orochimaru, with all his ambition, couldn't grasp?
Mars, perhaps? Orochimaru chuckled inwardly at the absurdity of his own thought, but the feeling lingered. Even to him, Aizen's perspective seemed alien.
Then, a familiar voice interrupted their uneasy silence.
"…Do you two need some advice?"
Tsunade froze. "Sakumo! What are you doing here?!"
"Break! And Captain Hatake Sakumo of the Eleventh Division, no less!"
Both turned sharply to see two figures rising from the table behind them—men in white haori, who had apparently been sitting there unnoticed the entire time.
For a moment, Tsunade's mind went blank. Her pulse quickened. She hadn't even sensed them.
Orochimaru's hand twitched toward his weapon before he stopped himself, realization dawning in his eyes. How long have they been here…?
Hatake Sakumo—Konoha's White Fang—stood with his usual air of quiet exhaustion. His haori draped loosely over his shoulders, his unkempt white hair casting shadows over tired eyes.
If one wasn't paying attention, he might have looked like part of the scenery—a man at the end of his rope, blending into the dim light of the bar.
He stuffed his hands into his sleeves and gave a halfhearted smile. "Ah, seems I've been discovered. I guess being called 'Captain of the Eleventh Division' suits me well enough."
Behind him stood Kato Dan, looking awkward and uneasy, clearly regretting being dragged along.
The realization hit both Sannin at once: the two had been monitoring them from the very next table. If Sakumo hadn't spoken, they might never have known.
Even Orochimaru felt a bead of cold sweat trickle down his neck. The power gap between them was suffocating.
"I told you," Sakumo said, gesturing lazily toward Kato Dan, "I'm not actually interested in your philosophical debates. I'm just keeping this guy company."
Dan scratched his cheek awkwardly, avoiding eye contact.
"Though, if you really want someone with a strong opinion about Aizen," Sakumo continued, "you should talk to Uchiha Kagami. He's been critical of that man for years. Frankly, he's a lot more fired up about it than Dan here."
Tsunade raised an eyebrow. "Kagami? I haven't seen him around lately."
"Yeah. He's been gone on a mission for nearly half a month now." Sakumo's voice was calm, almost indifferent. "No updates. Maybe he died somewhere."
The casual tone made Orochimaru frown. "Where did he die? That's not something you can just throw around carelessly."
"According to Jiraiya," Orochimaru continued, his expression tightening, "Senior Uchiha Kagami was a remarkably strong ninja. He possessed a unique technique—something called Number Bankai. How could someone like that simply vanish without a trace?"
Sakumo shrugged. "Who knows? The world's vast and full of strange things. If we have someone like Aizen here in Konoha, who's to say other villages don't have their own anomalies?"
Orochimaru grimaced. "That's… not exactly comforting, Sakumo-senpai."
The White Fang chuckled lightly and poured himself another cup of sake. "Which is exactly why you shouldn't try too hard to understand Aizen. It's safer that way."
He sipped slowly, then turned his gaze to Orochimaru, a small, knowing smile on his face.
"Orochimaru-kun… you've always been obsessed with the nature of life, haven't you?"
Orochimaru's golden eyes narrowed slightly.
"Well," Sakumo continued, "Aizen's done quite a bit of research on that subject. If you're curious, why not come along with us? I promise—it'll be enlightening."
For a long moment, Orochimaru said nothing. His fingers tapped against the table, his expression unreadable.
Then, that familiar, serpentine smile crept across his face.
"…Just what I wanted."
He could feel it deep within his gut—the instinctive fear of stepping into the unknown. But alongside it burned a hunger he could not suppress.
If Aizen truly held the secret of immortality… then the risk was worth everything.
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