Three days later, Orochimaru accompanied Danzo back to the Konoha Orphanage.
Faced with the tempting offer of Root subsidies, Yakushi Nono kept her composure. Outwardly, she acted as though she was wavering, but inside, her decision was firm.
If she appeared untouched by money, Danzo would abandon persuasion and use force instead.
Playing along was the safer choice.
But when Danzo demanded that she hand over a child to be raised as a Root spy, Nono refused without hesitation.
Danzo immediately shifted tactics, threatening her with financial compensation.
Reluctantly, Nono gave ground but not completely.
She agreed to let a willing child join Root as a shinobi, but never as a spy.
Danzo scowled, but ultimately accepted. Root wasn't lacking for spies, and forcing the issue might compromise her usefulness. He let the matter rest.
When it came time to choose, Kabuto naturally volunteered.
At that moment, Orochimaru interjected. With a small gesture to divert Danzo's attention, he casually brought up Kabuto's budding talent in medical ninjutsu. He then suggested Kabuto be placed under his personal supervision for training.
Medical ninja were rare in Root.
Part of it was because capable medics were precious in general. But more importantly, Root's philosophy was that shinobi should not fear death so they cared little for healers.
Even so, the idea of reducing casualties among Root's elite was tempting. Each operative was hard to replace.
Danzo knew Orochimaru had a strong grasp of medical ninjutsu and, as both a Sannin and his trusted deputy, was well suited to train someone like Kabuto.
Reluctantly, he yielded.
And so, Kabuto Yakushi was handed over to Orochimaru, becoming his subordinate.
Of course, Root protocol demanded measures; the cursed Tongue-Sealing Seal to prevent betrayal.
But Orochimaru was the exception. He alone, apart from Danzo, moved freely within Root, unrestricted.
That much would not change.
The deal was struck and Kabuto left with Orochimaru.
Soon after, Nono finalized her affairs at the orphanage. With a heavy heart, she accepted a mission that would take her away, to Iwagakure, under her old alias; the 'Wandering Miko.'
Disguise was second nature to a shinobi. For a spy, it was an art. And for an ace like Nono, it was perfection.
Actors risk boos if their performance falters. Spies risk death—often a brutal one.
When you act with your life on the line, mistakes aren't an option.
The following afternoon, inside the Hokage's office at the Hokage Tower.
Sarutobi Hiruzen sat behind his desk, Hokage robes draped over his shoulders, pipe smoldering quietly at his lips. His brow furrowed as he read the report in front of him.
All the death row inmates in Fire City Prison had died mysteriously.
Again.
His mind raced. How many times had this happened recently?
Closing his eyes, he recalled the string of similar incidents. When they opened again, they burned with sudden clarity.
This wasn't isolated. Across the Land of Fire, one town after another reported the same eerie deaths.
Could Konoha itself be next?
Grimly, Hiruzen summoned his personal Anbu and ordered them to warn both the Police Force and Torture Department; tighten prison security immediately.
They didn't know who or what was responsible, but the scale was alarming.
Some unknown shinobi was clearly practicing a dangerous forbidden jutsu. If Konoha Prison fell victim, the consequences would be disastrous.
Still frowning, Hiruzen scrawled the word 'Read' across the report and set it aside. He reached for the next document, but his thoughts lingered.
Send an investigation team?
They had already tried.
The death of a condemned prisoner didn't trouble most, but the strangeness of it all rattled even noble lords. Their own forces had investigated to no avail, so they turned to Konoha.
The Corpse Disposal Unit. The Interrogation Division. Specialist trackers. All sent out.
They chased shadows until their legs gave out only to return with nothing but a single clue; a man in black robes seen near one prison. No face. No trace.
The trail went cold.
Embarrassingly, Konoha's ninja gave up.
Still, there was a silver lining.
Spooked nobles and wealthy merchants, distrustful of their own guards, began hiring Konoha shinobi for personal protection at inflated prices.
Konoha's coffers swelled, and many ninja pocketed generous rewards.
They lost face, but gained profit.
Eventually, both nobles and village reached a quiet understanding. Official reports would continue to be filed. But in truth, the matter was shelved.
After all, only death row inmates had died. Weeks had passed, and no one else was touched.
Better to leave it alone than risk provoking whoever lurked in the shadows.
Meanwhile, outside Konoha, Uchiha Gen was reaping the results of his own schemes.
From his retainers, Shiroichi and Shiroji, he absorbed the gathered souls and lifespans, mostly condemned criminals, with a sprinkling of rogue ninja.
In truth, every stray shinobi in the southern Land of Fire had already fallen prey to his Spirit Transformation technique.
"Well done. Rest for a few days and recover before your next collection."
"Yes, Master!" Shiroichi and Shiroji replied eagerly.
They did not eat or drink, yet endless labor drained their spirits. A reprieve was welcome.
Gen wasn't worried about slacking. Between the leash of their lifespans and the bond of his soul-core, he could check on them anytime.
"Go."
With a flick of his hand, he dismissed them. In the blink of an eye, his figure vanished reappearing a heartbeat later inside his home in the Uchiha compound.
That's right. Gen had mastered the Flying Thunder God Technique.
He was far from battle-ready with it, but for travel? It was perfect and efficient. A true gift for anyone aspiring to manage time like a weapon.
In his soundproof chamber, Gen sat cross-legged on the bed before a mirror.
Closing his eyes, he drew upon his soul power, forcing his mind and spirit into resonance.
His Sharingan spun open, three tomoe glinting. Under the flood of soul-born chakra, they began to shift.
The tomoe stretched. The black dot at the center warped. Rotation quickened until, suddenly, stillness.
A new pattern bloomed in the mirror's reflection.
The Mangekyō Sharingan.