[Belated June Update]

AN: Hey, reader!

A. I got sick in June, so this update will spoil you. Thanks for waiting + sorry for the inconvience.

B. Version 1 of rewritten Reincarnated 1 (first half) went live because of the next point—

C. Playing with the writing style here. Better? Worse-r? (I promise there is a difference…)

D. Rushing uploading this, but I'm making a slew of chapters. July's update might be skipped in favor for having weekly updates in the near future. (Wouldn't it be amazing if I can respond to your comments in a timely, predictable manner via weekly? I think we all need a little structure in our lives, haha!)

Orochimaru enters Academy days, part one of two.

Past

Paths To Be Crossed

1.5 Years After the First Shinobi World War

Orochimaru avoided the end for a time, but the world no longer wishes to coddle him.

The lull of Tsunade's family guides his day to day. The early mornings, the plentiful breakfasts, training and studying together, grocery trips, Tokonoma's questionable money-making strategy, Hazuo's story times, shared baths, dinner, and slumber. The comfort of routine almost convinced him to forget. His wizened half knew better.

He'd hear the distant pounding of hammers as loud as his heart, feel the suffocating itch of wood at the back of his throat, on the streets, on the way to Tsunade's home. He could duck behind the Tsunade's parents' backs or train his eyes on his feet, but nothing could stop the forward progress of time.

He longed for a distraction big enough to forget that building. Six months later, he gets his wish: a distraction with a price.

The Academy has opened for the next school year. He will attend. Tsunade's admittance was unanimously agreed upon. He was only considered due to how often he'd accompany her lessons, speeding through some, much to everyone's surprise. It also helped that Tsunade tugged Hazuo's pants and pouted, "Can Orochimaru go to the Academy with me, Daddy?"

Without hesitation, Hazuo said, "Of course!" It earned him a scolding from Tokonoma.

The colossal front door looms before his thin, trembling body. Beyond is a world without the protective shield of her parents. No one to hide behind or to take charge, no one to make painful choices. Where should he sit, in the front or back? Where should he eat, and what should it be? Should he greet his teachers or bow? And then?

Outside the door will be thousands upon thousands of paths for him alone to take. One path ends with all that he desires and dreams, but he can't distinguish the endless, sinewy roads apart. How can he tell if one will hurt him in the end? How can he walk down one and not leap to another? Whatever he chooses, one path will define who he is, who he will be. Will he be a soul that saves Tsunade's future heartbreak or does nothing to stop it?

How can any sane person make a choice?

"Something up?"

Tokonoma, as ever, moves silently. She should be with Hazuo and Tsunade, washing dishes and joking around. Yet, she sits on folded legs at his side, loose and white robes bending the few strands of light around her like a halo. Her void, deep purple eyes threatens to reflect his face, so he jerks his gaze away.

"It's a big day. I get it. It's not fun doing new things. There's no telling what's out there. You afraid of change?"

Funny how she of all people is telling him this. She will undergo the biggest change in her life in a few weeks time. She pushes for the construction for that building so that she may rid her hands of him and return to her ever-growing family. After all, she is a woman. She is the means of life. He has nothing.

"Well," she shrugs, "I get scared, too. I can't even tell you how many months I've spent sitting right here and, ah…" Moments after her voice wavers, she clears her throat. "I hoped things wouldn't change. But, they do. They change in ways we want or hate, and there's no stopping that. Doesn't mean it's any less terrifying, right, Orochimaru?"

There's no way she believes that? What other reason does she have to get pregnant? Why does she need another life? If she wants a boy so badly, she might as well—

No. No—what is he thinking? It's senseless.

"I wish…I had better advice for you. I'm not good at all this junk. Dad was. Dad was so charming and cool. He could tell you a story about watching water run, and it'd be amazing. He always knew what to do even when no one else did. I mean, how else could he just…just create the Leaf? It's never been done before. He started something unbelievable, and I'm just…I'm here…"

Slowly, his eyes drift to her side, from the silky fabric, to her hands entangled in her belt, to her protruding stomach that she seems to curl around as if to hug her baby. And her face, her eyes curtained by red bangs that keep the light away. Such tired eyes that ache his chest.

"When Tsunade was born, Dad was in a meeting. Man, Uncle chased him halfway 'cross the village before he lost him. He was drenched and sweat and was heaving more than me. But, he calmed as soon as she was born. Dad held her and looked at me. 'You're going to be a great mother,' he said.

"He answered my thoughts, just like that. How am I going to be a mother? I didn't even know I was pregnant until too late. Yeah, me, scared, a grown woman. The only thing I was good at…was just losing things. I couldn't create anything like Dad or Uncle or even Mom. I didn't want to be a mom 'cause it meant having to be someone I didn't know I could be."

If she became a mother despite never wanting to, were his parents the same? Did him being born surprise them? Why would they take care of him if they never wanted him? Pride? Shame? Hope? He's lived two lives so far and can't understand the mystery of how two people could ever decide to give and provide life.

"I don't know if I'm doing a good job, but I do know that I got Hazuo there. Some friends. Some of my family that's still hanging on. I won't ever stop being scared—I mean, c'mon I'm about to do this all over, and I'm having these doubts. I guess, the point of me rambling is that you can feel scared. It's fine. What you feel is always fine. All it matters is how you act."

Slowly, her hand reaches for him. His body stills, not paralyzed by choices—his body has made a choice. Her hand closes around his own, a warm cocoon.

"Let's walk down together, okay? Just hold my hand, Orochimaru."

The wooden fence had blocked a significant portion, but now nothing stands between him and the massive three-story building—its winding administration tower holding the Hokage's Office and the Mission Desk. Ninja from all walks of life pour in and out of the fence opening, some offering a small incline of their heads upon seeing Tokonoma.

The Academy. Similar to his memories but with key differences. The school is still under construction, having started near the end of the First Shinobi World War. Its late construction was be causing of Hashirama's repulsion of the idea of child soldiers. Tobirama and Mito tried to convince him otherwise. 8,000 to nearly 10,000 shinobi died every year—18 percent of the total population. When the total shinobi numbers reached around 14,000 (shinobi men and woman from 16 to 30, the prime ages), the two realized the Leaf's ranks would crumble within two years. With Hashirama's death came the implementation of the Academy, pushing out 11,000 or so graduates every year pulling trainees from as young as six to 12. One year of training is required. Once completed, the student can graduate and join the shinobi ranks.[1]

Ultimately, this is the reason why child soldiers are so prevalent to any hidden country. Hidden villages, while having an higher than average total population, cannot offset the deaths that plague the shinobi kind much more ruthlessly without pulling from the young. It makes sense, too, converting the malleable minds of children while young, before they can understand the scope of what it means to become a ninja.

Being a clanless child, Orochimaru has insurmountable odds stacked against him before, during, and after the Academy.

"We're finally here!" Tsunade hops on the balls of her feet, tugging her hand out Hazuo's grip. "Bye! See ya before sunset, guys!"

"W-Wait a minute." Tokonoma almost seems to pout. "Aren't kids supposed to cry and get all fussy—?"

"Look! Lord Hokage just entered the Academy! Lemme go!"

Hazuo chuckles. "Okay, princess. Behave and do your best!"

Tsunade stops tugging his arm just to meet her father's gaze. "Duh! That's the plan, Daddy! Bye bye!" She pulls him towards the Academy.

He can't look away from Tokonoma and Hazuo's shrinking figures before a wooden door divides them.

"Are you excited? I can't wait to graduate! We're gonna be ninja!"

Tsunade's girly voice barely cuts through the loud, echoing space. The building is coliseum-like. Reds, whites, tans everywhere. On walls are posters (Every hour, a ninja dies. Are you spending your life wisely?, Academy Entrance Exam Cram School on Sale!, Congratulations to the Hyuuga Clan for the Most Children to Enter the Academy). Award shelves rest side by side against the wall, filled with trophies, medals, and certificates—first graduates, best scores, A honor rolls, outstanding clan of the month.

On their way to the atrium where the Welcome Ceremony will take place, they cross an outside path. Beyond it are classes practicing martial arts and sparring. The beautiful fluidity of the Hyuuga, the fiery blows of the Uchiha, the agility of the Inuzuka. Tsunade takes a moment to watch, mouth agape, eyes glittering. "That's gonna be us."

The Welcome Ceremony is packed with students and staff. The duo stands near the back of rows and rows of clan children. Very, very few clanless. The odd red hair pops out among the litany of black and brown.

"Good morning, children."

A gentle voice quiets the room.

Center stage is the Third Hokage, layered in red and white robes fitted to his lean body. Hands crossed behind his back, Hiruzen Sarutobi sweeps his gaze left to right before speaking once more. A hint of his mesh undershirt peaks through the robes showcasing the beginnings of faint, white streaks mixed with raw, red scars.

"Today, most of you will embark on a yearlong journey of personal growth, struggle, and becoming protectors of the old and young. I could see no other role befitting of young, noble, optimistic people such as you all. I cannot express my gratitude nearly enough to you. I can never. For you are making a sacrifice far greater than your shinobi brethren that have fallen both out and in combat.

"The Hidden Leaf Village will support you as you complete your journey. You will never be alone. We want you to succeed. To live and protect your home. To repay the debt you owe to your parents—your families. You may look to me as your Hokage, but I am nothing more than a representation of the Will of Fire that lies within you. The very fire you will leave here and invigorate generations to come. I welcome you all to the Academy. May we have a fruitful, incredible year together."

Applause explodes. Near Orochimaru, students shout and holler. With a nod of the head, Hiruzen turns to leave, the atmosphere of the room calming. Another staff member walks forward. "I will call students from my list. At the end, I will tell you which teacher you belong to. Follow that teacher to your homeroom. Let us begin…"

Akio-sensei's room hosts 27 students. Of the 27, only three are clanless. Interestingly, this class holds the most future clan leaders.

All the names blur together for Orochimaru. He's glad Tsunade pulled him to his seat in the middle front row, right next to her. His mind is spinning. The sounds of his classmates finding their seats can barely be heard over his pounding heart.

Akio-sensei takes his place behind the teacher's desk. He wears the usual uniform, though his lanky body makes the sleeves and pants a hair too short. "My name is Akio. I didn't have this place growing up, so I spent the break doing teacher trainings. Forgive me if I make mistakes during the course. Let's see…I love Yakiniku Q. I hate sweets. Now, one by one, stand up and introduce yourselves."

Orochimaru's vision trembles. His throat constricts. Three students introduce themselves before it is his turn. He rises but is unable to meet Akio-sensei's eyes. All his writing utensils are tucked away in his school bag. He'd have to pull something out with shaky hands.

"Will you not introduce yourself?"

Though his hair curtains his view of his classmates, he can feel the pull of their judgmental eyes, the low rumble of laughter, sending him underneath turbulent waters. His lungs are running low on oxygen, but any attempt to gasp for air would drown him. Beyond his pounding heart, the world is filtered through the lense of a seashell pressed to the ear, until—

"This is Orochimaru." Tsunade had sprung out her seat, placing her fingers on his shoulder. "He doesn't talk, Akio-sensei."

Still, he is pulled under the water, but at the surface is a hand reaching for him.

Akio-sensei narrows his eyes at him. "Oh? Why not? Is he unable to?"

"Uh, well, I don't know why. He never speaks."

"I see, thank you…Tsunade Senju, correct?"

"Yup!"

"Yes, thank you. You may sit, Orochimaru."

His legs would have given out at any moment. But before he can breathe a sigh of relief, Akio-sensei adds, "I hope we'll be able to fix whatever affliction this is by the end of the year. Nothing good can come from remaining silent."

A student's day is split into two. In the morning, Akio-sensei's class covers academics: math, history, rules, chakra theory, and hand seals. After a lunch, afternoon lessons are nothing but physical and practical applications: speed, strength, chakra control, and agility. By the time the end of the day arrives, students are much more subdued and obedient from exhaustion.

Tsunade has caught the eye of the few girls in class. During breaks and after school, she often says, "Why don't you just hang out with my friends? If you won't talk, you can't make friends of your own."

He always declines. He couldn't fit in with them anyways. Besides, he needs to do something important. Slinging his school bag over his shoulders, he heads out the sliding door. Thanks to maps on the walls, the trip to the library is easy.

The dim, quiet room is far less impressive than the Leaf Library, but no doubt suitable for his needs. Around the oval walls is a line of bookshelves stopped only by the librarian desk placed on the opposite side of the standing bookshelves. Tables are towards the front, a few children, perhaps even a classroom. Most don't spare a glance as he slips by, to the rows of shelves. Fiction, nature, chakra, clan histories, martial arts, writing—aha.

He unzip the bag and grabs the Tales of the Pure Land. The books lining the shelves are a series of ideogram guides: reading, writing, meanings. All necessary in his attempt at translating the archaic novel.

"Much like the sky, a human is split into day and night. Our 'day' is the perpetual soul, the soul that remains once the body and brain are dead, much like the sun's affects on our lives long after it has disappeared. Our 'night' is the fading soul, the soul that vanishes when the body dies, much like the moon's awakening of night creatures that prowl under the stars in secret. When I died, I was split into these extremes, existing in duality simultaneously. So long as my body was kept from rotting, I knew there was a chance I could return to the realm of the living…"

Orochimaru's head throbs too much to continue. The next day, he proceeds.

"The Pure Lands cannot be called 'lands'. They are at best symbols of a consciousness that no man could ever comprehend. … The Lands are further separated by every realm for every version of existence one may transmigrate[2] to: man, god, heaven, hell, animal, ghost[3]. Amida, 'The realms will never be free of suffering by their nature. For they are trapped in an endless cycle of death and transmigration. An enlightened one is the only one that can escape the cycle.'"

And he continues.

"Amida looks through me. 'Have you enough self-control? Did you devote yourself to mankind to be transmigrated once more?'

"I, 'I am not alive nor dead. I am here, yet I feel my heart beating ceaselessly. If I can return to my form, I will devote myself, Amida the arbiter.'

"'Never have I seen such a dilemma. Had your body been soulless, I would have required Takamanohara Technique, the Celestial Transmigration.'"

He's barely scratched the surface of what made the book so prized. Lengthy, purple prose litters the text, along with massive monologues and expositions dumps that never end. It is fatiguing.

Perhaps he should go at this another way. Maybe there are translations or essays describing the book? Some other means. Manually translating the novel needs more time than a lunch break necessitates.

At any rate, some truth exists within this novel. Tobirama used the book to create Edo Tensei. He will too. He has to. Despite his throbbing head, he's ready to leave the next day, book in hand—but someone pulls him back into his seat.

Tsunade is half glaring at his backpack, half at the door. "Where are you going? I can't find you. Is eating in the class that hard? Just stay with me."

And if he did? He's never spent any time around his "peers", if the reincarnated soul of his adds or detracts his total age. Politely, he removes her hand and makes sure to find a secluded part in the library to continue the translation.

"A ninja must learn to work on a team," Akio-sensei says, gesturing to the desks grouped into threes. "Today, we will focus exclusively on teams. On the desks, are your names."

Orochimaru follows behind Tsunade, the latter finding her group with two other girls. She turns on her heel to the front. "Sensei! Orochimaru isn't in my group!"

"I'm aware," says the man, unfazed.

"Well…why? He can't talk. I kinda understand him, though."

"You can't let him get away with this disobedience—he needs to become a good ninja. Let him unlearn this negative behavior and speak."

He can't pry his eyes off the ground while he searches for his seat. His heart vacuums all of his blood and breath and pounds, flooding his body, making him quiver. The moment he spots his chair, he drops into it.

His classmates roam the room, sharks surrounding a decaying lifeboat. Eyes that linger less on their name tags and more on his face. What do they think of him? Could they see right through his mask?

"—oh, you're Orochimaru, right?"

Without meaning to, he turns in the direction of his name, to be met with a youthful face with striking, dark eyes. The boy situates his slender body sideways on the chair, legs crossed on the side furthest from him.

"I mean, I know you're Orochimaru," he continues, glancing at the nametag. "Trying to relax you, is all. Anyways, I think your eyes look so cool. And the—eye paint? Birthmark? That's so neat. My clan gets a lot of things, but nothing like that."

He rubs at the lavender strip of skin, having forgotten its existence. When has he looked into a mirror last?

"I'm Takenaka Uchiha." Another classmate sits, one with the trademark Uchiha high collar. "That's Ihai. He's a killjoy."

The other Uchiha grumbles and kicks at the boy. The latter grips his shin, laughing.

The team activity involves matching hand seals to the correct Ninja Technique. A good portion are some of the most recognizable techniques—to the point where he remembers seeing them in episodes. The rest are the trickier homework questions he worked through with Tsunade. Alone, he could finish the activity within ten minutes.

He doesn't dare tell them the answers. Then, he'd have to explain why. Even if it's on paper or miming, he'd doubt he get that far through. Akio-sensei is stalking group after group, hands behind his back. Scrutinizing. The moment he'd attempt to communicate, Akio-sensei would no doubt force him to speak. He can't do that. His mouth is wedged shut—not by his own volition.

He waits on the edge while his teammates go off-topic, guess wrong answers.

"Okay, c'mon Takenaka, we need to get some of these right."

The boy laughs and flicks his eraser at the other. "There's no point in this. We know what's on the graduation exam."

"Well, yeah, but your dad's not gonna like you getting crappy grades."

"Grades don't matter in real life. Living and dying do," he says, then turns to Orochimaru. "You get me, right, Orochimaru? As long as you pass the test, you'll become a ninja. And if you and Tsunade are as close as I think, well, there's no way you'd fail."

"Takenaka, leave him alone."

"It's not like the Senju Clan are a big clan, but the clan leader has influence. She'd know something. We're the lucky ones—we have shortcuts." Smiling, he pushes their paper off the table where it drifts into the shadows and under their feet.

Orochimaru bends under the desk to collect it, whilst his partners laugh about another side conversation. The Academy has been active for almost four years at this point, but that's too short for clans to work the system, no? The Leaf appreciates self-discipline and integrity. If clans have an advantage over clan-less on a grand level…

Maybe Mito Uzumaki has something to do with this cheating.

He busies himself swinging on the lone swing, watching the Academy's front doors for Tsunade. As a girl, she is required to take Kunoichi Class after school. He waits outside as the students roam the building free of structure and teachers. Some boys run out the doors to their friends, their family, never alone.

As soon as the clearing is no longer busy, he can hear the faint bang bang bang noises that sends tremors through his body. It's not long now. It's almost done. He'll be forced into that building with countless orphans and rules and structure and corruption—never alone.

He can't keep pretending the future isn't on its way to meet him face-to-face. He can't stay here and meet the end. He should've have just…why did he have to meet her at the cemetery?

He needs to escape.

He stumbles out the swing, throws on his backpack, and sprints for his life. He races until he comes across a marketplace, one he'd see on a few trips out. His feet are on autopilot, left and right, and steps away from the Shinkyou Apartments, one of the many apartment complexes huddled close to the village's epicenter. Being exclusively shinobi apartments, few, if any, security measures are taken, seeing as any person who think it wise to break into war-shocked veterans' homes, don't need their life insurance after all. Not to mention how some shinobi tend to lose themselves and see these security details as acts against their lives.

It's effortless for him to enter the complex, scanning the bottom floor apartments for—aha. The giddiness of the adventure fades into a colder, heavier pressure as a realization dawns on him: They're mad, they have to be. His parents must be angry that he's abandoned them for so long. For them, it was justified. He has nothing to explain himself with.

They would have figured he's trying to replace them. He can never replace them. And—and they can't be mad because he got sick of the lonely nights and remnants of persons who were never more. They need to explain themselves to him. Did they love each other? Did they love him? Do they regret dying? Why did they leave him when he told them not to go? No, was it really his fault he couldn't simply return here?

Orochimaru reels away from the apartment's door. The world shudders, fades at the edges. His shallow breaths reverberate all throughout his core.

"Mommy, please don't go!"

Tears poured ceaselessly from his eyes as he gripped her sleeve and would never release it.

"Every time, I must go through this with you!" Glacial white eyes divided by a black sliver of color locked onto him. "We are in the midst of a war. Mommy and Daddy need to fight in it, or else everything will become worse. Do you want that? Are you that selfish?"

"No, but…" He felt as though he were engaged in war himself, fighting for a victory to bring home, so that he could right everyone's wrong assumptions about him. He was not selfish, was not cruel, because he was not that Orochimaru.

"The world will break everything that makes you yourself and will never care. We have to fight to keep the things we hold dear. Even if it means leaving you alone like this. The world will never care about what you feel. Stop caring about it, Orochimaru."

He can see it now. Her frosty expression as she closes the door behind her, ignoring the tiny, sobbing child trapped inside a too small apartment. How she heads towards the exit, walking past him; he wants to grab her hand and never let go. He does so. He reaches for her once more. Nothing but shadows remain. Shadows and memories that never seem to fade no matter how much they hurt. Why do the most painful things in world seem to follow him?

He shouldn't have come here! He's so stupid.

Tsunade greets him as she runs out the Academy, none the wiser of his journey. "Here you go!"

The flower she gives him is a white flower with delicately round petals curving up to touch the sky. Nearly beautiful, if he avoids its unblinking eye. A black abyss in the flower's center.

"That's an anemone flower—it's basically you," she says then waves a pink and white flower. "Mine's the hirugao[4]. I think it's prettier!"

An anemone? She is subtly mocking how often he stares and loses himself in dreams. He doesn't want it.

Tsunade watches him for a moment longer and puffs out her cheeks. "Geez! Why aren't you excited? You don't even look grateful. If you don't like flowers, you could've told me that before I thought about you! No wonder Mom said you didn't even put flowers on your parent's grave."

What? It was rainy and full of people that day. Why would Tokonoma assume he didn't? How could she even know? There were indeed flowers placed by the caretaker. He furrows his brows trying to come up with a solution. Nothing.

"Just gimme it back! Geez! You never care about anything. You're so annoying!" She rips the flower from his fingers, decapitating its head. "Orochimaru!"

In his shock, he grips the flower stem tighter, and her face goes red. She stomps on the anemone's head once, twice, thrice. She mocked him with it. He wouldn't care about the flower, nor her, or anything because how? He would do anything to cut the roots from which this pain blossomed, but it's not that simple.

"Just drop the flower! You don't even like it! You're just—you are so tedious! I do so much and you—you just! Nothing can ever make you happy. Do you like being grumpy? Geez, why can't you talk? Why can't you be normal? Why do you have to make things so tough? Good grades are good because people are happy and brag about you. But when you're like this, everyone is sad and talks bad about you. 'Cause nobody likes sad people!"

Acid is eating away at his heart. He can handle being alone. He can handle being harassed and ignored. He can't handle the fact that since meeting Tsunade's family, he held hope of being happy at their side…only for it, too, to end. Everything ends. The world doesn't care about him. It never will.

Her words unleash a pain so primal, it overwhelms him.

"You make my parents so worried, because you're just a sad, loner, mute boy who hates everything! Why do you like that? You can like that, but not flowers or friends or happiness, or or or—!"

If he could shout, his guttural roar would pierce the heavens and reach the moon. If his throat wouldn't constrict moments before he wants to plead for help, ignoring his many attempts to subvert it. If he could turn off his heart so that her words could never have held this much power over him, he would do so in an instant.

He can't. And so his vision turns red and blurs and his hands are cold from chakra. And he pushes. Down the girl sprawls, crushing the hirugao under her body. For a moment, she looks between him and the flower—as if the life of a flower is somehow more concerning than a human.

It's over. This stupid delusion ends tonight. He turns on his heel and leaves through the Academy gates into the depths of the village not knowing where his path will take him.

Footnotes:

[1] LONG ramble/explanation with how I came up with numbers because they aren't random.

Leaf has a 5/5 population. 1.5 years after the 1st war, the population is 56,853 with an annual growth rate of 1.11% (average rate in US). When Naruto is 12 (in 45 years), the pop will be around 89,000. If the Shinobi Alliance is around 80,000 and Leaf has highest pop, it makes the most sense that they would take up a larger portion of force size, which is why I assume pop is probably 100,000 strong by wartime and Leaf makes up 40-50% of forces alone.

I imagine only ages 6-30 are active shinobi, meaning around 45% (25,584) of total Leaf population are active shinobi at any given time. Of this, 6-12 are in graduation ages, and if the curriculum caters to clan children, let's assume graduation rate is 99%. All this to say that there is probably 11,258 new, young, and active shinobi produced every year.

Leaf also has a 3/5 military. Not the best. I assume this means military size/competency because no other country has nearly as talented shinobi in surplus. If students are being pumped out as ninja as early as 6, I think the average death rate of shinobi is somewhere 8,000 to 9,900. Meaning every 54-66 minutes, a ninja dies per year. If this is true, it makes sense as to why there is a need for child soldiers as young as SIX. It's possible that about 13,300 people are born and 12,000 people die every year—700 births annually, nearly aligning with the US's average of 731.9 births per 100,000 population.

Interestingly, Sand has a 5/5 population which doesn't make sense considering its economic depressions, goods produced, political instability, Kazekage assassinations, border disputes, and hostile environment wouldn't be able to support a high population. For the canon rating system to make sense within the context of the world, 5/5 describes the population density and not the size for this specific country. Of course, if this doesn't gel with you, lemme know.

[2] transmigrate is the "official"/most accurate term for reincarnation…but essentially it's a difference in connotation. You'll typically see this version in more ancient/official religious text.

[3] this is a little too complex for me to discuss here without completely confusing you, so google "Onmark six paths". There are tons of reference material

[4] actual name: convolvulus, bellbine, or hedge bindweed

AN:

Here is the two-part Past setup conclusion. After Undermine, there should be a subtle…"shift" in the mood of the story emerging in the next past chapter HAUNTING.

Lemme know if you feel it. If not, I need to re-structure this.

We begin to explore Tsunade's character bit by bit as her role in the story is slightly more…meatier than Jiraiya's? (It's hard to define as all 3 are super important.) Rather than info dump you, I'd like to ease into her character. I feel like we only see a traumatized Tsunade in canon, but, provided Orochi succeeds, this story will have a tsunade without this trauma.

So who would she become?

Jiraiya, though, is already pretty defined by the series' end and doesn't needed as much characterization, so his focus is more on his past and the actions he takes. In case you can't tell, he's a foil to Orochi (whereas Tsunade and Orochimaru share far too many similarities).