"Tsk, tsk, tsk... Simply incredible."
In a research lab that looked less like a biological facility and more like a hospital's intensive care unit, Orochimaru held a report, his eyes darting across the pages with a look of pure delight.
Tatsuma, meanwhile, scanned his surroundings. This was a far cry from the nightmarish laboratories he associated with the future Orochimaru; there were no jars of organs or grotesque biological experiments. It was clean, orderly, and well-lit, though it was heavily reinforced with sealing formulas. To Tatsuma's shock, there was even a computer—something he hadn't seen anywhere else in the Hidden Leaf, not even in the Hokage's office.
He suddenly felt a pang of nostalgia. He hadn't touched a keyboard in five years. Seeing the monitor, his mind didn't jump to high-definition movies or AAA games, but rather...
Solitaire.
He wondered if Orochimaru had the classic Windows time-killer installed. However, one look at the security seals glowing on the casing was enough to kill his curiosity. Even if the "Snake-Sannin" hadn't turned rogue yet, he was still the village's top researcher. His hard drive likely held enough classified intel to get Tatsuma executed ten times over.
"What's with the clicking and tsk-ing? Did you find anything or not?"
Compared to Tatsuma's stiff posture, Tsunade was perfectly at home. She'd used Orochimaru's equipment many times before and had no patience for his theatrics.
Orochimaru snapped out of his trance. "Tatsuma's cell vitality and the energy storage capacity of his individual cells are staggering. Compared to... cough... compared to his peers, it's like comparing the sky to the mud."
"So he's healthy?" Tsunade asked.
Orochimaru nodded, then hesitated. "I would say he is exceptionally robust, but it's not without concern."
"Spit it out!" Tsunade's brow furrowed, her voice rising with protective urgency.
Orochimaru flipped to the next page. "Tatsuma's blood sugar levels are elevated. It's quite rare for someone his age. I'd like to run a controlled study—one test while fasting, one after a meal. Ideally, I'd want to do twenty-four-hour monitoring to track the fluctuations and see if it's a systemic issue or just a result of his diet. After all, right before the sample was taken, he ate a mountain of BBQ and four ice creams. That could easily skew the results."
He shot Tsunade a reproachful look. Yesterday, after the debriefing, they were all on empty stomachs—the perfect time for a baseline sample. But Tsunade, claiming she didn't want the boy to go hungry, had dragged him to lunch first, introducing a massive variable into the data.
"Cough, cough..."
Tsunade looked away, a bit embarrassed. She knew a fasting test was more accurate, but she'd been hungry herself, and Tatsuma was a growing boy. How could she let him starve?
Tatsuma, who had been internally protesting the idea of more tests, suddenly felt a surge of genuine anxiety. A low probability of disease... In the world of statistics, "low probability" means nothing to the person who actually gets hit. To the individual, it's either zero percent or a hundred percent. Tatsuma wasn't about to leave his health to a roll of the dice.
Seeing the panic on Tatsuma's face, Orochimaru was surprised. The boy didn't seem like the type to be afraid of a little blood-work or an injury. Did he think high blood sugar was a terminal illness?
Or was it something else? Did Tatsuma, despite his youth, possess a deep reverence for life? Did he feel he had a grand destiny to fulfill and couldn't afford to be cut down by a common ailment?
Orochimaru's gaze softened with a flicker of... respect. "Tatsuma, are you currently fasting?"
Tatsuma instinctively touched his stomach. "It's been four hours since breakfast. I've done some light training. I should be at a baseline now."
Orochimaru nodded and reached for a sterile syringe. "Mind if I take another sample?"
"By all means! Take as much as you need!"
Tatsuma's "do-or-die" enthusiasm was so intense it made Tsunade look at him with a mix of confusion and pity. He looks so pathetic right now, she thought. Is my student really this afraid of a little sugar?
As far as Tsunade was concerned, there wasn't a disease in the world she couldn't punch her way through or heal. If a cure didn't exist, she'd just invent one. Even if Tatsuma's blood turned into pure syrup, she had the confidence to fix it.
"Is that enough? Should you take more? To be sure?"
As Orochimaru finished the draw, Tatsuma spoke with a shaky voice. Orochimaru stared at him, momentarily speechless. If he'd known the kid was this cooperative, he wouldn't have bothered with the long-winded medical explanations.
Still, the boy was too trusting. Orochimaru might not use the blood for forbidden research, but once this data existed, it was a risk. If Danzo Shimura or the Root ever got wind of Tatsuma's abnormal cell vitality, they'd be all over him.
"Your situation is unique," Orochimaru said, his voice dropping into a serious, mentor-like tone. "If people knew how much you've changed in such a short time, you'd become a target. Protect yourself. Don't give so much as a drop of blood to anyone you don't trust implicitly."
Tatsuma blinked, stunned. Is this really Orochimaru talking? Tsunade chimed in, echoing the warning. "Back in the Land of Iron, Orochimaru intentionally misled Mifune about your identity. If word got out that you were a 'Senju' or something even more exotic, you'd never have a moment's peace."
"From now on, try not to leave blood on the battlefield. If you're injured, heal it yourself and dispose of any blood-stained gear immediately. And never, ever agree to a physical exam unless I'm in the room. Understand?"
"So... why exactly did you mislead Mifune?" Tatsuma asked.
Orochimaru offered a faint, cryptic smile. "You need a cover story. Even if it's a lie, having people believe the wrong 'truth' is often the best armor you can have."
Tatsuma shrugged, pulling his sleeve back down. "I understand. Lord Orochimaru, should I come back for the results tomorrow? I'd like to get back to training."
"Yes. Come by whenever you're done. I have no other projects right now; you're my priority."
Tsunade nodded her approval. "Go back and study. And check in with the other genin to see what the recent Chunin Exam formats have been. If you fail the exam, I'll kill you myself when I get back."
"Yes, ma'am! Mission accepted!"
As Tatsuma hurried out of the lab, Tsunade added, "And keep an eye on Nawaki. He's graduating soon, and his teacher is useless. Help him out."
Orochimaru let out a dry cough. "I'm a busy man, Tsunade. Besides, me teaching Tatsuma while Tatsuma teaches Nawaki... it's a perfectly efficient chain of command."
"Didn't you just say you had no other projects?"
Seeing Tsunade pounce on his slip of the tongue, Orochimaru's expression stiffened. He liked Nawaki, but the boy's training was a disaster. He'd already been "corrupted" by the brawling style; Orochimaru felt he had no hope of fixing him.
Tatsuma didn't stick around for the fallout. He knew how unreasonable his teacher could be, and his small frame wouldn't survive being caught in the crossfire of her fists.
He hurried home, his stomach beginning to growl. He needed to cook; eating out was too expensive, and he had to save his ryo for the ice cream his [Vitality Unceasing] required.
However, as he reached his apartment building, he saw three familiar figures waiting for him: the "Ino-Shika-Cho" trio. All three looked like they were carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders.
"Don't you three have school?" Tatsuma asked.
Shikaku Nara scratched his "widow's peak" hairline, looking utterly miserable. "The Academy is pushing for early graduation. The three of us were sent home to master our clan's secret techniques instead of sitting in class."
"So why aren't you studying? Why are you here?"
Shikaku let out a long, weary sigh. "The point of the secret techniques is to prepare us for the battlefield. But we know a few jutsu won't keep us alive out there. We wanted to ask someone who's actually survived a war for advice on how to stay alive. Minato is missing, so you were our only lead."
Tatsuma smirked. He knew why they hadn't come to him first. Shikaku just wanted to survive; he knew Tatsuma was a monster who could kill Jonin single-handedly, which wasn't exactly "relatable" advice. Minato was much more grounded.
"With your personality, Shikaku, I'm surprised you aren't trying to dodge the draft entirely."
Shikaku groaned. "The Ino-Shika-Cho bond is a package deal. I could fail the exams on purpose—my dad and I wouldn't care—but these two wouldn't stand for it."
Choza and Inoichi nodded, their faces as sour as if they'd just bitten into a raw lemon.
"I see," Tatsuma said. "Well, why don't I see where you're at?"
"That was the plan."
"But first, you're buying me lunch."
"...Fine."
An hour later, the trio sat in a park, staring at Tatsuma with soulful, wounded eyes. Tatsuma had eaten through a month's worth of their pesticide sales profit in a single sitting.
"Don't look at me like that. My sparring is worth every ryo. So, do you want to go one-on-one, or as a team?"
"One-on-one first," Shikaku said. "On a real battlefield, we might not always have the luxury of our formation."
A few minutes later, Tatsuma stood perfectly calm, his breathing even. Choza and Inoichi were already sprawled on the grass, exhausted. Shikaku was nearing his limit as well, but he managed one final move.
"Shadow Bind!"
The shadow beneath Shikaku's feet stretched out, connecting with Tatsuma's. Tatsuma tilted his head with a grunt of effort. It was a struggle, but he could still move. Instead of forcing his way out with raw strength, he performed a one-handed seal with a casual flick of his fingers.
"Wind Style: Great Breakthrough!"
A blast of wind roared toward Shikaku, sending him tumbling backward. The shadow connection broke instantly.
Tatsuma walked over to the fallen Nara. "Your chakra is too weak to hold me. And honestly, this jutsu is a bit of a joke. You burn a massive amount of energy just to keep the enemy still, but you're stuck in place too. It's a stalemate at best."
"I know," Shikaku panted, not even bothering to get up. "It's one of the few entry-level techniques we have, but it's the most practical. You're right, though. Relying on someone else to finish the job while I'm immobile is a drag. It would be better if I could move while using the shadow."
"Or... if I could force the enemy to move with me. To mimic my actions."
Shikaku suddenly sat up, a rare spark of energy in his normally lazy eyes. "Tatsuma, what if I developed a jutsu that used the shadow to force the opponent into a mirror-match? If we're connected, and he has to copy me... then I just have to carry my gear in a weird place, like a spot an average ninja wouldn't expect. I draw my weapon, he mimics the motion but grabs air, and I kill him before he can react."
Tatsuma stared at him. Shadow Imitation?
"Shadow Imitation?" Shikaku mused. "That has a nice ring to it. The clan has some old, fragmented records of people using shadows to herd deer by making them follow a path, but nothing combat-oriented like that."
Tatsuma scratched his head. He realized that the Kage Mane no Jutsu—the cornerstone of the Nara clan's future—hadn't even been invented yet. And he'd just watched the world's laziest genius dream it up purely because he didn't want to rely on others.
"It sounds like it has potential," Tatsuma said. "If you develop it, I'll help you test it. But I bet I can still find a way to beat it."
"Ugh... development and testing... that sounds like so much work."
Shikaku promptly flopped back onto the grass. He'd already given up on the idea.