When Orochimaru heard those words, his serpent-like pupils narrowed sharply, gleaming with intrigue.
This was not an answer he had anticipated—outrageous at first glance, yet disturbingly reasonable.
If it truly involved the Nine-Tails, then everything Menma said began to make sense. The Nine-Tailed Fox was a calamity older than legends, a monstrous being that had survived through ages of blood and chakra. Still, Orochimaru felt something in Menma's story didn't quite fit.
But such doubts were trivial. Orochimaru didn't dwell on them.
Just like with Danzo Shimura, who believed he was manipulating him, Orochimaru knew well he was the one truly pulling the strings.
And the boy standing before him—Menma Uzumaki—would be no different.
Compared to what Menma could offer, the price Orochimaru had to pay was insignificant.
A deal like this? Orochimaru relished such arrangements. Once Menma stepped onto his territory, the rest would unfold exactly as he desired.
"The connection between the Sharingan and the Rinnegan, hmm?" Orochimaru murmured, a twisted smile forming on his lips. "Fascinating… truly fascinating, Menma-kun. Very well. I accept all of your conditions. When you come to me, everything will be prepared to the highest standard. And if the answers you bring satisfy my curiosity… whatever you desire—if I can grant it—I will."
He licked his lips, his golden, slit-pupiled eyes gleaming with a predator's delight as a low chuckle escaped him.
From Orochimaru's point of view, this was a guaranteed victory—a win-win scenario. For now, he had nothing to lose.
Hearing his agreement, Menma's heart fluttered with satisfaction.
Although he had been almost certain—eighty, perhaps ninety percent sure—that Orochimaru would accept his offer, hearing it confirmed still sparked an uncontrollable surge of triumph within him.
Orochimaru wasn't his only potential ally… but he was by far the most advantageous.
For Menma's next phase of plans, the Sannin would serve as the perfect stepping stone.
"By the way," Menma added smoothly, "I have a small request. I hope Orochimaru-san can agree to it."
"Oh?" Orochimaru tilted his head, amused. "And what might that be, Menma-kun?"
"It's simple," Menma replied with a faint smile. "Before I leave Konoha and join you, I'd like you to look after my companion. She's an Uzumaki like me—and I believe she could prove useful to you in the future."
As he spoke, a shadow clone flickered into view nearby, standing beside a nervous Karin Uzumaki.
While Menma negotiated, his clone had already explained everything to her—about him, about the Uzumaki clan's downfall, and what he intended to do.
Just as she had told him before, Karin didn't have much of a choice. When Menma presented this decision, it was not really a choice at all—it was the only path left.
But as she gazed at Orochimaru's eerie smile, her stomach twisted with unease.
That man radiated danger.
"Karin," Menma said softly. "Konoha isn't safe for you. And I'll be leaving soon. Believe me—no more than a month. I'll come back for you."
His voice was calm, but his eyes held a rare sincerity.
Karin clenched her fists. She didn't know whether to trust him—but she wanted to. Something in Menma's eyes felt… real.
"Yes… Menma, I believe you'll come for me."
Her voice trembled slightly, her hope fragile but genuine.
"I will," Menma promised gently, brushing his hand through her crimson hair. "That's our promise."
He turned toward Orochimaru. "Orochimaru-san, is that acceptable?"
"Haha…" Orochimaru's chuckle slithered through the air. "Of course, Menma-kun. As I said—so long as you satisfy my curiosity, I'll meet all of your requests."
When Orochimaru's gaze fell on Karin, his lips curled into a thin smile.
The Uzumaki Clan's bloodline—a lineage famed for its near-limitless chakra and regenerative power.
Years ago, he had dreamed of studying that vitality firsthand. Now, two pure-blooded Uzumaki stood before him—one being the Nine-Tails' Jinchūriki.
Perfect research material.
"Go, Karin."
Menma's tone was soft but firm.
She looked at him one last time—eyes glistening, heart pounding—and then, gathering every shred of courage, stepped toward Orochimaru.
This was her first gamble in twelve years… and perhaps the last of her life.
Even if the abyss awaited her, Karin walked into it without turning back.
As Orochimaru began to lead her away, he paused. "Menma-kun," he said, his tone casual yet probing, "just out of curiosity—why do you want to leave this village? You may not be treated well here, but surely that's not enough reason to abandon Konoha, is it? Unless… there's more to it."
He smiled, fangs glinting faintly.
"Reason?" Menma echoed. For a moment, he fell silent, then exhaled slowly. His eyes hardened.
"Maybe it's my parents' identities," he said quietly. "But that's only part of it. The truth is, Orochimaru-san, I don't belong here. This village… and I… are incompatible."
His gaze turned distant, sharp with conviction.
"Perhaps I'm like you in that way. Konoha doesn't hold the future I seek. The people here, their ideals, their rules—they suffocate me. What I desire can't exist under this village's shadow. If anything, this village prevents it. That's why I have to leave."
His words carried no malice—only unshakable certainty.
Menma didn't just want to survive. He had ambitions—dreams.
He wanted to live freely.
And then, one by one, avenge those who had stolen his peace.
That was the philosophy he lived by.
His creed.
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