Chapter 3 – I'm Here
No one knew how much time had passed.
Thud!
A battered body crashed into the trunk of an ancient tree, leaving a spiderweb of cracks across its bark. The young man coughed, a wet, ugly sound, and spat out a mouthful of blood.
Shaking, he forced his limp wrist to rise, trying to bring up the chipped, black kunai and point it toward his enemy—
But before he could steady himself, the moonlit gleam of a blade drove mercilessly through his shoulder, pinning him against the tree like an insect.
"Impressive, Aizen-kun,"
Orochimaru's rasp carried an edge of reluctant admiration as he leaned in, both hands gripping the hilt of the Kusanagi, keeping his opponent nailed in place.
His pallid face was streaked with blood. His left arm and leg were severed at the joints, the raw stumps crawling with grotesque new growth — pale tendrils of flesh, writhing as if searching for the missing limbs.
His long, black hair hung loose and wild, framing a faint, almost delighted smile tugging at his lips.
The slit pupils of his snake-like eyes wandered over Aizen's exposed skin — along his neck, across his arms — where blackened veins were crawling ever closer toward his heart. Even the blood he coughed up was laced with streaks of black.
"It must be agony, Aizen-kun," Orochimaru murmured, his tongue snaking out to lick the blood at the corner of his mouth.
"I know my venom well. Tell me—"
"Whose pawn are you?"
He looked almost amused — even with half his body gone — as though the situation excited him more than it troubled him.
The battle had told him much.
This young man's moves blended Cloud-style grappling with Root's escape techniques — and even a hint of the Anbu's kenjutsu patterns when he used his kunai. For someone barely in his twenties to wield such hybrid skill was rare.
Was he a sleeper agent Cloud planted in Konoha from birth?
Or a Root operative who had been stationed in Cloud — now sent back under a new identity?
Was this part of Hiruzen-sensei's schemes? Or perhaps that old dog Danzo finally decided to remove me in this clumsy way?
In just a few seconds, dozens of theories spiraled through Orochimaru's mind.
"Kh…"
Pinned against the tree, Aizen coughed again, dark blood dripping from his lips. The shattered frames of his glasses caught the moonlight, forcing Orochimaru to narrow his eyes.
The young man was still smiling — just as he had been at the moment they first met.
"Remarkable, Lord Orochimaru…"
"To have come this far…"
His voice was hoarse, ragged with exhaustion, yet carried a weight that made Orochimaru frown.
Slowly, deliberately, Aizen raised one hand and gripped the blade that pierced his shoulder.
His fingers squeezed until the skin split. Blood ran down the silver edge in a thin stream.
Orochimaru felt a warning instinct rise in his chest.
But the young man did not resist. He simply stepped forward.
Once.
Twice.
Each step forced the sword to carve through his flesh, until the entire length of the blade passed through him.
And still he walked, closing the distance until they stood face to face.
Orochimaru's senses rang like alarm bells.
At last, Aizen's bloodied hand reached out, stopping just an inch from Orochimaru's pale cheek — as if trying to touch him.
And then, his voice became soft. Flat.
"You still haven't realized, have you?"
"Lord Orochimaru."
For a heartbeat, Orochimaru froze.
Then, as though struck by lightning, he abruptly released the sword and sprang back several paces.
The voice was coming from behind him.
Crack.
The sound was like glass breaking.
Orochimaru turned.
There, at the border between moonlight and shadow, stood the young man — immaculate, untouched, as if not a single blow had ever landed on him.
In his hands was a notebook, freshly closed.
Just as he had been when they first met.
Not a step out of place.
Aizen Sosuke looked up, his gaze meeting Orochimaru's with that same calm, gentle smile — a smile that sent a sudden chill slicing through Orochimaru's spine, leaving cold sweat trailing down his back.
The one I fought just now…
Orochimaru's pupils shrank.
All around them, the forest bore witness to what had happened:
Trees split and toppled. The earth cracked like shattered glass. Scorched soil steamed with lingering chakra residue, stained dark with blood. Crows called hoarsely from the distance.
Scattered through the clearing were severed limbs — Root operatives and others, their bodies left in the wake of the so-called "battle."
Pinned to the very tree where Orochimaru thought he'd trapped Aizen was the corpse of a Root ninja, mask half-broken, his lifeless eyes wide in incomprehension — as though even in death he still didn't understand what had happened.
From every corpse, pale wood-like growths were bursting forth, sprouting into thin branches — the telltale mark of Wood Release cellular experimentation.
Overhead, the crescent moon had already drifted west, sinking toward the horizon.
Orochimaru stood frozen.
Genjutsu?!
When did it start?
How much time has passed?
Why hasn't the monitoring team responded?!
One realization after another detonated in his mind, tightening his chest until his fists clenched of their own accord.
And then he noticed something else — something worse.
He glanced down.
Just like the bodies littering the ground, his own left side was covered with those same pale growths. His leg had rooted itself deep into the earth, binding him in place.
It had happened without him noticing.
The fact that such a drastic physiological change had occurred under his very nose — without triggering his senses — sent a rare flicker of shock through him.
From the very start… this man was using all of us. Including me.
Orochimaru's golden pupils narrowed to slits.
"Aizen-kun," he rasped at last, his voice low, eyes locked on the figure before him, who was now slowly fading like mist.
"What exactly is it that you want?"
At those words, Aizen raised his head and met Orochimaru's gaze fully.
Beneath the heavy frames of his glasses, his eyes were calm, unhurried — as though, for the first time, he was truly seeing the man before him.
And he smiled.
His soft, handsome features curved into a smile — the kind of smile that felt completely natural, as if it had always been meant to be there.
His tone was as warm and unhurried as ever.
"Why, to change this world, of course."
"...Heh."
Orochimaru stared at him.
At first, his lips twitched — then curled upward, stiff and slow, until they stretched into a grin.
A grin that turned into a laugh.
A low, mocking laugh that grew louder, carrying a faint note of madness.
So that's it.
If it's someone like you… then perhaps this rotten village of Konoha really…
But before the thought could finish, the pale white growth crawling up his body reached his face, consuming him entirely.
Aizen Sosuke merely stood there, watching quietly until it was done.
Only then did he turn his back on Orochimaru.
His voice was soft.
"Farewell, Lord Orochimaru."
"You truly were excellent experimental material."
Almost the instant his voice fell, the seething white mass surged forward, smothering all of Orochimaru's senses and engulfing him completely — until nothing of him remained but silence.
---
"Lord Orochimaru!!!"
Back in the underground monitoring room, Kabuto Yakushi sat frozen, head tilted back, staring at the screen.
His fists clenched so tightly they shook, his face a mask of disbelief.
That invincible man — the unstoppable, undefeated Lord Orochimaru — had just died.
Died quietly.
Died without even leaving a scream behind.
At the hands of… a no-name operative?
"No… impossible."
He pressed the alarm button until it cracked under his palm. No response.
None of the emergency seals triggered either.
That could only mean one thing:
Every safeguard, every contingency… had already been dismantled by the enemy.
And Kabuto — just a mid-level genin in terms of pure combat strength — was utterly powerless.
Even his rage felt useless.
He ground his teeth hard enough to hurt, his thoughts spinning wildly.
There was only one thing left he could do now — one final contribution he could make to Lord Orochimaru:
Pass on the man's identity.
That man's true identity.
"Aizen…"
Kabuto spat the name through clenched teeth, each syllable like broken glass.
He stood abruptly, chair skidding back with a squeal.
There was no time to hesitate.
He had to warn Lord Danzo.
He had to warn the Hokage.
But as soon as he stood —
Something felt wrong.
The room was still.
Too still.
Kabuto blinked, frowning, then reached out and lightly tapped the shoulder of the nearest researcher.
The man collapsed instantly, boneless, like a puppet with its strings cut.
Thud.
That sound was the first domino falling.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Bodies toppled across the control room, row after row, slumping lifelessly over consoles, collapsing to the floor in eerie silence.
Kabuto stood rooted to the spot, shock freezing him in place.
And then — slowly — he turned.
The blood drained from his face.
There, seated behind him, was the figure he had just seen on the monitor moments ago.
Aizen Sosuke.
Sitting with one elbow propped casually on the armrest, chin resting on his hand, eyes fixed on the same screens Kabuto had been watching — as though deep in thought.
He must have felt Kabuto's gaze.
Because Aizen turned his head, met Kabuto's wide, horrified eyes… and smiled.
A gentle, warm smile.
Then, in a voice quiet enough to make the hair on Kabuto's neck rise, he answered:
"I'm here."