You sometimes wonder what should be going through your mind as you prepare your painstakingly gathered subjects for experimentation. It's not like you're unaware of what you're supposed to feel; pain, remorse, physical sickness and other forms of negative reactions. Indeed, had your teammates or anyone in Konoha known what you were doing in your lab, they would have expressed the very same sentiments you should be feeling right now as you cleanse the bodies with acid and formaldehyde – ready for dissection.
But you don't feel any regret or sorrow at what you're doing. The anguished faces of test subjects as they're swiftly, albeit painfully neutralized, doesn't do a thing to the heart that's supposed to be the epicenter of all emotion (a concept you never did grasp seeing as the function of a heart was nothing more or less than that of a pump).
Actually, now that you think about it, many things in this village and in your training didn't make sense. For instance, how could you – or any shinobi really – be expected to feel bad about killing when all of you had been trained from an early age to accomplish exactly that objective? Maybe if circumstances were different and the children of the village did not grow up seeing death, defying death, watching their peers succumbing to it and delivering it when necessary, death would be something shocking and worth all the emotion people put into it. Perhaps it would do justice to the amount of vast literature, poetry and inspiration usually attached to it.
As it was, your first playmate had been death itself. Even though you were too young to remember it, you knew that you had been orphaned; meaning death had introduced itself to you quite early on. Had it made you fear it, not really saying as you had not been aware of what it was? Later as you'd grown up to see plants, animals and people around you vanish into the oblivion called death, you had just learned to accept it. It didn't seem such a stretch to think that your job was to be a grim reaper of sorts and deliver it as nothing more than a hired thug (which is basically what all shinobi were no matter how poetically their job description was put).
You almost chuckle as you prepare to dig a small, chakra enhanced blade into Subject J-3's pectoral area. Jiraiya would no doubt fly into a rage and deliver one of his melodramatic speeches on the duty of a Leaf ninja were he able to hear what was running through your mind. The boy was so convinced that he was on a path of goodness and justice, it was pitiful really. But if you are true to yourself, you envy your white haired teammate more than any man on earth.
People always whispered that you covet power. That you are ruthless in your methods (as stated in one too many mission reports leading to meetings in your former sensei's office) and that you'll stop at nothing to be the strongest man in the village. Some already consider you so, in fact. But what is power, really? The ability to exert one's authority over all beings, phenomena and time itself? You don't need any particular conventional weapon to do that. For what kunai or shuriken has the power to influence a soul? What paper bomb can watch history grow old?
Jiraiya however, had that power. For the toad sage's power lay within his utter conviction and his ridiculous nindo: to never, ever give up. And that, in your opinion, made him a truly dangerous man. Simply because he was so completely sure of his way of life, he could convince others too. Many a times you've seen creatures of weaker will submit to Jiraiya's aura as he spoke of truth, honor, justice and a world without war. Of course the irony of a shinobi spreading ideas of a world without war was laughable, but somehow, when Jiraiya said it, with his eyes blazing and expression so sincere, you wished with all your heart that you could believe him.
Concentrating now on the subject lying cut-open on the table, you try to poke the thick veins and arteries aside to get to the deeper rooted chakra network of J–3's body. When alive, an individual's chakra network stood out from his normal innards by a bright blue glow – proof that the person has been using his chakra for the majority of his lifespan. However, after death, the chakra network begins to fade into a color similar to that of the usual veins, arteries and platelets until it becomes almost indistinguishable from a normal vein network system. To further complicate the matter, there is no specific time limit for this to happen; data gathered thus far suggests that it depends on the individual in question. You still remember the shudder in Tsunade's voice as she explained all this to you after Dan's death.
Tsunade-hime, now that was another complex individual. If you had ever been asked which one of your teammates you preferred over the other, you would have replied (even if hesitantly so) that you preferred the blonde. At the very least, she was more likely than Jiraiya to listen to sense. Being a medic nin (the most talented medic nin you or anyone had ever seen, in fact) meant Tsunade had grown accustomed to death in all its forms. She knew better than anyone when to give up on someone whose body was failing – or had already failed. Ideally, she would have been the best research partner for you, the most able to assist you in your efforts.
Bit Jiraiya had gotten to her, as usual. Despite being in the field that she was, she still harbored that little bit of hope that all sciences contradicted. What else would have made her work on Dan's body for hours until she passed out from sheer exhaustion when, as a medic, she should have known there was nothing more she could do? Why else would a woman who had practically trained in the morgue and spent her internship as a chunin determining cause of death (Koharu's teaching methods had been simple: show them the worst first so nothing surprises them later on) collapse sobbing at the sight of the barely mangled body of her younger brother? After all, you knew for a fact that she had seen much worse on people who were actually alive. Shouldn't she have been glad that in death Newaki was... away from here?
Peace was not a concept you believed in (no matter how much Jiraiya preached it), it was just something you could not see, being raised the way you and every ninja were. It made you doubt that peace existed even after death. But death at least guaranteed an escape from the here and now, which was quite a lot given what the shinobi of the villages were put through every day.
You almost want to laugh at the irony of your situation. You - a man putting all his considerable efforts into defying death - contemplating its… benefits. Wouldn't all the gossipers at the bath house like to know what you're thinking right now? You smirk, thoroughly amused.
Ah finally… a dull, faded blue catches your eye and you are quick to grasp the tiny and fine chakra transport vein. Tracing the line with your blade and poking aside everything else in the way, you discover the hidden chakra network buried underneath the underneath. Luck seems to be on your side because the epicenter of the network, stemming directly from the heart, is still pulsing slightly. (You had only recently made the connection between the power and skill of a shinobi in wielding his chakra and the amount of time it takes for the network to fade out after his death, and had since made sure to only target skilled ninja for your research purposes).
Getting ready to dig into the heart and start slicing apart the network, you feel a sense of gladness and bitterness that the blonde Sannin is not by your side. Efficient as she was, she still could not face what you were doing. It would scar her too badly and you would feel… unpleasant at the thought of hurting her even more.
Jiraiya, with all his foolish ideals, had done both you and her a great favor. He had taught Tsunade not to give up no matter how bad things seemed and it had taught you… to appreciate the fact that she had learned that lesson so well. Whenever you found yourself uneasy about the dichotomy between what you were feeling and what you should be feeling, all you had to do was think of the two most important people in your life and things somehow fell into perspective.
Yes, you were still a long way from believing that peace would ever reign, but you could work to eliminate the tragedy of war. You could ensure that the ultimate threat, the one punishment that no one escaped, could be nullified, rendering this shinobi world useless. For how can something that no longer exits be used to influence anyone?
And if you were successful, maybe Tsunade would smile again? And Jiraiya could finally have a world where war didn't exist. It would probably throw the ecosystem out of balance, defy the very laws of nature and cause numerous conflicts among men and gods, but that seemed a small price to pay for seeing your two teammates happy.