Tsunade, who had been slumped over her desk while aggressively wrestling her bangs into place, glanced up as Xingye spoke. She gave a curt, distracted nod.
The Academy wasn't the Senju compound, and Tsunade was far from aloof. As long as he wasn't trying to squeeze into her personal space as a deskmate or acting like a nuisance, she didn't much care who sat in front of her.
Xingye took his seat quietly. He didn't turn around immediately to force a conversation. He wasn't some desperate predator; he was a tactician. In a school setting, familiarity is built through the steady drip of daily proximity, not a high-pressure "pick-up" line. Forcing a chat now would only mark him as "that annoying kid," an unwise move for a long-term play.
Instead, he stared out the window, projecting an air of calm indifference while he organized his thoughts.
The classroom filled steadily. Tsunade's deskmate turned out to be a girl named Yako Kazamatsuri. Watching them, Xingye noticed a subtle, ingrained master-servant dynamic. Kazamatsuri... like Moegi from the future? he mused. The roots of these clans go deeper than the history books say.
His thoughts were shattered by a booming voice that could have woken the dead.
"Hey! Xingye! What's with the brooding look?"
Xingye jumped, his heart hammering against his ribs. He glared up at Jiraiya, who was standing there with a massive, Naruto-esque grin.
"Why are you shouting?" Xingye hissed.
Jiraiya scratched the back of his head, looking sheepish. "Hehe, I saw you didn't have a partner, so I figured I'd come keep you company."
The truth was obvious: the clan heirs were treating Jiraiya like a leper. Aside from Xingye, the white-haired boy was an island. Xingye didn't call him out on it; he just leaned back and let the boy settle in. But as they talked, a realization dawned on him.
"Jiraiya," Xingye whispered, scanning the room. "During the placement tests, did you ever hear the name 'Orochimaru'?"
"Orochimaru? Who's that? Some kind of snack?" Jiraiya looked genuinely clueless.
Xingye's brow furrowed. That's impossible. In every version of the story, the Sannin were the peak of their generation. If everyone was ranked by their scores, Orochimaru should be sitting right here in Class A. Had his arrival as a "Butterfly" flapped its wings so hard that a legendary Sannin had simply vanished?
"You said you had 'subordinates' in the lower classes, right?" Xingye asked. "After class, find out if there's an Orochimaru in Class B or C."
Jiraiya didn't get the obsession, but he puffed out his chest. "Consider it done. If he's in this school, I'll find him."
Xingye was a ghost for the rest of the day, his mind spinning through parallel world theories. As soon as the final bell rang, Jiraiya came sprinting back, looking unimpressed.
"You had me all worked up over this Orochimaru guy. I thought he was some hidden boss," Jiraiya snorted. "Turns out, he's a total dead last."
Xingye froze. "What?"
"I couldn't find him in Class B. Finally, one of my guys in Class C pointed him out. He's at the very bottom of the barrel. In the placement test, he and some kid named Might Duy were the two worst performers in the entire grade."
Xingye was speechless. The snake-sannin... a failure? He demanded to see for himself.
They hurried to the door of Class C, lingering in the hallway like they were waiting for friends. Xingye peered through the glass and spotted him instantly.
The long, ink-black hair. The pale, almost translucent skin. The distinct purple markings around his eyes. It was him. But this Orochimaru looked frail, his face bruised and swollen from a beating he'd clearly taken during the assessment. He was packing his bag in total silence, isolated in the corner of the room.
"Want to go in and talk to him?" Jiraiya nudged him.
"No," Xingye said, his voice low. "Let's go."
As they turned to leave, Orochimaru suddenly looked up. His yellow, reptilian eyes swept the doorway, but the hall was already full of children rushing for the exit. He saw no one. He looked back down at his bag, a flicker of raw, cold resentment burning in his gaze—a look that promised a terrifying future.
At the school gates, Jiraiya was squinting at Xingye with intense suspicion.
"You've been acting weird all day. You ask about this kid, you find him, then you just stare and leave? Don't tell me... you have a crush on him!"
Jiraiya jumped in front of him, pointing a finger like he'd solved a grand mystery. Xingye responded with a swift, irritated punch to the shoulder.
"Shut up. I just heard a rumor he was a genius and wanted to see if it was true."
"A genius in Class C?" Jiraiya laughed. "Not a chance."
Xingye looked toward the sunset, his expression unreadable. "Maybe not today. But soon." He shook off the gloom and grabbed Jiraiya's arm. "Come on. I owe you that outfit. And after that, ramen is on me."
They hit the shopping district, and Xingye quickly picked out a set of durable gear for Jiraiya. As he handed over the clothes and paid the shopkeeper, his demeanor shifted. His movements became deliberate, his eyes sharpening as he leaned toward Jiraiya's ear.
"Take these," Xingye whispered, his voice barely audible under the bustle of the crowd. "Act natural. Keep walking. We're being followed."