A light drizzle fell that evening.
As the old saying goes, every autumn rain brings a chill. The fine mist dampened Konoha's streets and alleys, pattering softly on tiled roofs and courtyards, wrapping the village in a cold, desolate quiet.
Inside one such courtyard, warm lamplight cut through the gloom. Master and disciples sat together at the low table, eating and drinking in easy silence.
After dinner, Anko, still worried about Kurenai, took an umbrella and headed out into the rain to check on her friend. The remaining two lingered beneath the eaves, ignoring the chill wind as they shared tea.
"Now that the Fourth Hokage has passed away," Gen asked calmly, "are you planning to compete for the position yourself?"
Orochimaru smirked. "Is that you asking… or the Uchiha clan?"
"What's the difference?"
"There are differences, subtle ones," Orochimaru replied, swirling his cup, "but in the end our interests mostly align."
"Has the clan pressured you yet?"
"Not directly. But sooner or later, they'll come knocking. That's inevitable. What I want to know is, what does my sensei think?"
Orochimaru's gaze shifted toward the distant Sarutobi compound, his expression unreadable. Gen didn't press him, letting the silence stretch.
Finally, Orochimaru spoke.
"I want to see… if sensei will choose me. With Minato gone, and Jiraiya and Tsunade unwilling, I am the only natural choice for Fifth Hokage. Unless Sarutobi-sensei crowns himself again."
"So you intend to wait passively," Gen said.
"Yes."
"And if you're chosen?"
"Then I'll serve. At worst, it will be exhausting."
"And if you're not?"
"Then… our bond will be broken. Master and disciple in name only." Orochimaru's voice was cold. "I won't wait forever. When Konoha stabilizes, the matter of the Fifth Hokage will be unavoidable. That will be the deadline."
Gen nodded faintly. He lifted his cup, watching rainwater trail down the eaves into the courtyard. His expression remained calm and unshaken.
"You're not going to try and persuade me?" Orochimaru asked, eyes narrowing.
He knew well enough; with a little effort, Jiraiya and Tsunade wouldn't oppose his candidacy. Add the Uchiha's backing, his own considerable power, and other supporters, even Sarutobi Hiruzen would struggle to suppress him.
If Orochimaru became Hokage, Gen would be a Hokage's disciple. The Uchiha clan's standing would soar. The opportunities were obvious.
So why wasn't Gen pushing him? That boy was ambitious, even utilitarian to the bone.
"Sensei has made his choice," Gen answered with a faint smile. "As a disciple, I should respect it."
Orochimaru chuckled… then his smile froze. His sharp eyes studied Gen intently.
"No… that may be part of it, but not the main reason."
"Hah. As expected of you, sensei—you saw through me."
"Then tell me, what's the real reason?"
"Strength," Gen said simply. "I'm close to a breakthrough. Once I reach the next level, it won't matter whether I'm the Hokage's disciple or not."
His focus these days was clear; gathering enough souls to awaken the Mangekyō Sharingan in one stroke.
Orochimaru raised a brow. "Confident, are we? Do you want to spar and test it?"
"We can spar," Gen answered with a small smile, "but there's no need."
"Hahaha…" Orochimaru's laughter echoed under the eaves. His disciple's words always carried that same sharp arrogance, amusing, yet never baseless.
"Let's set that aside. Time for business," Gen said, his expression turning serious.
"Business?"
"You wouldn't come to me without reason. Every time you do, it's because something's happening. What is it? Trouble with your research?"
"No," Gen shook his head. "My research is progressing fine. What I want to discuss is the night of the Nine-Tails. Do you know a group of… special creatures disguised themselves as Kirigakure spies to lure away Konoha's Anbu?"
Orochimaru instantly caught the important detail. "Special creatures?"
"Yes. White humanoids, shaped like people, but not human. Some have already been sent to the medical corps and Anbu for study. From what I've learned, they're connected to Wood Release."
That was enough to ignite Orochimaru's interest completely. Earlier that day, the old man had told him as much; the mysterious attacker possessed both Mangekyō Sharingan and Wood Release, the two powers most feared in times of turmoil.
"You want me to study them."
"Of course. Don't you, teacher?" Gen smiled. "I don't need much. Just give me two specimens."
Gen had already used his soul perception across Konoha, searching for traces of these White Zetsu, but found nothing. That meant either their Mayfly Technique could evade his senses, or there simply weren't any inside the village.
He leaned toward the latter. After all, if White Zetsu could serve as sacrifices for Edo Tensei, then they had souls. Their existence intrigued him even more.
If he could test his Soul-Soul Fruit on a White Zetsu body, perhaps he could turn them into Homies unlike normal human corpses. If successful, he wouldn't need to wait for Orochimaru's Reanimation Jutsu. He'd have tireless servants to collect souls endlessly.
White Zetsu could produce chakra, use techniques like Mayfly and Transformation, even learn taijutsu, ninjutsu, and genjutsu. They required no food, no rest, no waste.
The perfect tools.
With them, he'd gather the souls he needed for Mangekyō in record time.
"To have such creatures… of course I want them," Orochimaru said, eyes gleaming. "If there are spares, I'll give you two."
"Thank you, sensei," Gen said sincerely.
"There's no need for thanks. I'll speak to Danzo immediately. Root will have specimens. I'll begin tonight."
Orochimaru drained his cup in one swallow, his face alight with anticipation. He rose, stepped into the rain, and with a sinuous motion, sank into the wet ground itself, vanishing into the earth.
He truly did love this cold, damp weather.
Gen sat silently, staring at the empty spot where his master had stood.
"…No wonder Orochimaru achieves so much," he muttered dryly. "Look at that passion."
He finished his tea slowly, cleared the table, then stepped out into the drizzle himself.
He could've shielded himself with chakra, but chose not to.
The cold rain soaking into his clothes, the wind cutting against his skin, it reminded him he was alive.
And strangely, that made him happy.