Chapter 8

Otogakure

The corridor stretched endlessly, its jagged stone walls dripping with moisture that shimmered faintly in the torchlight. Each step Genshi took echoed too loudly for his liking, the sound swallowed by the oppressive silence of the underground lair. His hands were clammy, the parchment in his grip feeling heavier with every step. He hated coming here—everyone did. But refusing Lord Orochimaru's summons wasn't an option.

He reached the final door and paused. It loomed in front of him, not grand or ornate, but unassuming in a way that made it worse. With a deep breath, he pushed it open.

The chamber inside was vast yet suffocating. The air carried a damp chill, tinged with something metallic that prickled at the back of Genshi's throat. At the far end of the room, Orochimaru sat on a throne-like chair carved with writhing snake motifs. It was hard to tell where the throne ended and the man began. His pale, unnervingly smooth face rested on one hand, golden eyes watching Genshi's every movement as if dissecting him.

Genshi immediately dropped to his knees, pressing his forehead to the cold stone floor. He didn't dare lift his head. Everyone knew not to meet those eyes unless commanded, and even then, it wasn't an experience to relish.

"Speak," came Orochimaru's voice, soft and sibilant, wrapping around the room like smoke.

"My Lord," Genshi began, his voice quivering despite himself. "I bring the latest intelligence report from Konoha, gathered from our own agents and... provided by Lord Danzo."

"Oh?" Orochimaru murmured, the faint sound sending a shiver down Genshi's spine. "And what little offerings have they brought us today?"

Genshi swallowed hard, his voice barely steady. "First, Ibiki Morino uncovered our operative, Mizuki."

For a moment, silence reigned, and then Orochimaru chuckled softly—a sound that carried no warmth. "Mizuki," he repeated, the name rolling off his tongue like an afterthought. "A waste of resources from the beginning. The only surprise is that he wasn't discovered sooner. Let Ibiki have his fun; Mizuki knows nothing of value."

"Yes, my Lord," Genshi whispered, his forehead still pressed to the ground. "But there's more. The Hokage... has changed." The words hung in the air like a faint tremor, the tension thickening. "In the past few weeks, he has become far more proactive. After a meeting with several key individuals—Jonin Commander Nara, Morino, Mitarashi, Hatake, and his son Asuma—he began delegating mission assignments to a shadow clone and reopened his old laboratory beneath the Hokage Tower. He spends most of his time there now, my Lord. No spy has been able to gain access or discover what he's doing."

Orochimaru leaned back in his throne, his fingers tapping lightly against the armrest. The sound was rhythmic, almost hypnotic. "Interesting," he hissed, his tone more focused now. "Stars burn brightest just before they die. Is the old fool preparing to pass his torch, or does he sense an end approaching?" His gaze sharpened. "What does Danzo think?"

"Lord Danzo believes the changes stem from concerns about the Academy. The sabotage has rattled the Hokage. He thinks it has shaken the Hokage confidence - but Lord Danzo will still meet him in a few days to personally ask."

Orochimaru let out a soft, humorless laugh. "Always sentimental about children," he mused, his voice low, almost to himself. "Less so when they grow and try to assert themselves."

The remark felt too personal. Genshi hesitated, his throat tightening. He knew he had one more piece of information, but revealing it would almost certainly shift the air in the room. Still, withholding it was a risk he dared not take.

"There is... one more thing, my Lord."

Orochimaru tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. "And what is that?"

"It's... minor," Genshi stammered, "administrative, perhaps. But two days ago, without ceremony or announcement, the civil registry in Konoha recorded something unusual."

"Out with it," Orochimaru snapped, his patience thinning.

"Jiraiya... now has a family name," Genshi said, each word a struggle.

Orochimaru's stillness was immediate and terrifying. The silence stretched unbearably as Genshi felt his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

"Which name?" Orochimaru finally asked, his voice sharper, the hiss barely restrained.

"Sarutobi," Genshi replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "Sarutobi Jiraiya."
The name hung in the air, heavy and electric. Orochimaru didn't move, but the weight of his presence pressed down on Genshi like a vice. The jonin could feel his own sweat pooling beneath him as his Lord's unspoken emotions churned like a storm.

"Sarutobi Jiraiya," Orochimaru said at last, his voice testing the name as though savoring it. "SO the old fool adopted him. Him and not…". There was no anger, no joy, only something deep and unfathomable. His tone slithered with something too quiet to name. An emotion, Genshi thought , that had no place in Orochimaru's mouth.

Genshi didn't dare lift his head. He didn't want to see the expression on his Lord face—not now, not ever.

Konohagakure

The last few days had been a whirlwind of emotions for Sai—more than he'd ever experienced in his entire life. It wasn't just taxing; it was exhausting in a way that drained every ounce of his mental energy. And unlike a normal person, Sai knew he wasn't exactly equipped to handle it. Thanks to that bastard Danzo, his emotions were as stunted as a poorly written haiku. Not that he'd ever dare insult Lord Danzo aloud. And not that he could. Blasted seal.

Not yet, Shin had told him.

Shin. Just thinking about his brother sent another wave of confusion and gratitude washing over him. Sai was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that the so-called God of Shinobi was apparently an actual god—and not the figurative type. Somehow, that man, Sarutobi Hiruzen, had managed to do the impossible: bring Shin back. The few moments Sai had spent with his brother since the resurrection had felt like a dream. It was as if every silent prayer he'd never dared to speak aloud, thanks to the damned seal on his mouth, had been answered.

God, it seemed, had plans. And those plans involved delivering him from the devil.

Too bad the angels sent by this God were complete assholes.

Sai stood perfectly still, as was his habit, while Hatake Kakashi and Jiraiya loomed over him, inspecting the seal Danzo had placed on his mouth like it was an interesting doodle in a notebook.

"It's a pretty clean seal," Kakashi remarked, tilting his head to get a better view. "Textbook design. Practical. Functional. A little ugly, though. I'd give it a seven out of ten."

"Seven?" Jiraiya snorted, crossing his arms. "That's generous. The flow pattern's sloppy on the second layer, and look at this kanji—it's uneven. Danzo's standards are slipping."

"Oh, forgive me, Master Seal Connoisseur," Kakashi deadpanned. "I didn't realize we were critiquing it for aesthetic value. I'm sure Danzo was aiming for pretty."

"Pretty or not, a good seal should be elegant," Jiraiya shot back, waving a dismissive hand. "This is brute force at best. No subtlety. It's like trying to hammer a nail with a toad."

Sai stared straight ahead, pretending he wasn't there, while the two men continued their bizarre banter. He'd long since realized that whatever passed for a professional discussion among Konoha's finest was nothing like what he'd experienced in Root.

Kakashi pointed to a small, swirling section of the seal, squinting. "This part's interesting, though. It looks like a secondary suppression line. Probably for emotional triggers."

Jiraiya leaned in, his expression shifting slightly. "Ah, I see. Clever little addition. Keeps the user from talking, but also messes with their feelings if they even think about rebellion. Typical Danzo paranoia. Can you break it?"

Kakashi tilted his head, his expression obscured by his mask but his posture suggesting amusement. "Me? Sure. If you want me to accidentally wipe Sai's entire personality in the process."

"That would be an improvement," Jiraiya muttered under his breath.

"Hmm," Kakashi muttered, leaning in close to Sai's face, his single visible eye narrowing as he studied the seal. "This part's interesting. It's tied to the chakra pathways, but the flow here... it's almost redundant. What do you think, Jiraiya-sama?"

"Redundant?" Jiraiya snorted, crossing his arms and looking over Kakashi's shoulder. "Don't flatter it. That's not redundancy—it's Danzo being an overcompensating paranoid. See this?" He pointed at a swirling character in the design. "It's a failsafe, tied to the master seal. Probably meant to knock Sai out if someone tries to tamper with it or if Danzo activates the command remotely."

"Ah," Kakashi said, tapping his chin theatrically. "So, he made a seal that punches people unconscious as a last resort. Very Danzo. Practical. Also, kind of an asshole move."

"Kind of?" Jiraiya shot him a look. "If you were rooting through someone's sealwork and suddenly got sucker-punched into dreamland, what would you call it?"

"Tuesday," Kakashi deadpanned.

Jiraiya rolled his eyes. "Anyway, if we can figure out the pattern here, we might be able to reverse-engineer the effect. You know, recreate the master seal."

Kakashi perked up at that, his eye curving in amusement. "Oh, recreate it, huh? What, you want to start your own shadow organization? You'd be a hit at parties."

"No," Jiraiya said, smirking. "But wouldn't it be fun to have Danzo's failsafe blow up in his face? Literally."

"True," Kakashi mused, leaning back to inspect the seal from a different angle. "Or we could use it as leverage. 'Oops, Danzo, we accidentally made a better version of your shitty seal. Want to negotiate?'"

Sai, still as a statue, watched them in mounting disbelief. Here were two of Konoha's most legendary shinobi, and they were treating the intricate workings of his oppressive seal like it was a weekend craft project.

"This redundancy," Kakashi continued, pointing at a faint swirl near Sai's jawline. "If we reroute the chakra flow here, we might deactivate the pass-out mechanism. Or trigger it. Could go either way."

"Reroute it, and Sai might eat dirt before we finish," Jiraiya said, rubbing his chin. "Maybe start with a test pulse, see how the seal reacts. We don't want to accidentally fry the poor guy."

"Oh, he's tough," Kakashi said breezily. "Besides," Kakashi added, his tone light, "if something goes wrong, we'll just fix it. I mean, Hiruzen-sama can apparently resurrect people now. Worst case, we're like, 'Oops, Sai got crispy.'", he said, not trying to think of Rin and Obito. It was selfish, he knew it. The Hokage had told he could have only a maximum of two to three zombies running around. But…

"Classy," Jiraiya said, shaking his head. "Anyway, focus. We need to figure out if this pattern is tied directly to Danzo's master seal or if it's independent. If we can isolate the trigger function—"

"—we can figure out how to make it misfire," Kakashi finished. "Or better, recreate it. Imagine having a master seal to make Danzo's agents pass out on command. He'd lose his shit."

"An asshole move for an asshole man," Jiraiya quipped, grinning. "I like it."

Konohagakure

"Are you sure?" Nono asked, holding the syringe aloft with steady hands, the faintly luminous liquid inside catching the harsh fluorescent light.

Hiruzen Sarutobi, sleeves rolled up and arm resting on the sterile table, let out a long, exasperated sigh. "Yes, I'm sure. We've tested it on three prisoners, Nono. And on more animals than I care to count. If I wasn't sure, do you think I'd be sitting here like this?"

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "I don't know, Hiruzen. You have a knack for throwing yourself into situations most people would run screaming from."

The Hokage gave her a pointed look, his fingers drumming lightly against the table. "And you have a knack for asking unnecessary questions when there's work to be done. We're not exactly here for your sparkling wit."

Nono smirked, her head tilting just slightly as she stepped closer. "I can't help it. You're too easy to provoke, even when you're about to play guinea pig."

"Flattering," Hiruzen muttered, leaning back slightly in his chair. "Let's not drag this out longer than necessary. I do have a village to run."

She rolled her eyes, more amused than annoyed. It was strange, how quickly the awe she once felt for him had faded. Behind the grand titles and legends, Hiruzen was... human. And humans, even ones called the God of Shinobi, could be surprisingly irritable.

And brillant. And kind. A genuine smile spread on her face. Being reincarnated as a brainwashed zombie was, sadly, one of the best thing that had ever happened to her.

"All right," she said, inspecting the syringe one last time. "If you're absolutely sure, then let's do this." She swabbed his arm briskly, the alcohol sharp in the air. "And don't flinch. You're supposed to be setting an example."

Hiruzen's lips twitched. "If I can sit through countless council meetings without jumping out the window, I think I can handle a needle."

She didn't dignify his comment with a reply, her focus shifting entirely to the injection. The serum in the syringe was the culmination of three weeks of relentless, nerve-fraying work—Hashirama Senju's cells, painstakingly isolated and manipulated from the precious few drops of his preserved blood. Stabilizing the concoction had required a desperate gamble: using material derived from Tenzo's blood, another victim in Danzo's trail of destruction.

Nono's grip on the syringe tightened for a moment, her jaw clenching. Danzo. The name alone was enough to send a wave of simmering anger coursing through her veins. That bastard had taken everything from her, from Kabuto, and from so many others. Hiruzen's revelations, shared in a quiet, almost apologetic tone, had laid bare the depths of Danzo's treachery. He had twisted Kabuto's life beyond recognition, breaking the boy she had once cared for and molding him into something unrecognizable.

Kabuto was still alive, her Kage had told her. Alive, but hopelessly lost, wandering a path paved with betrayal and blood. The thought tightened her throat with a mix of despair and guilt. The truth about what had happened—what Danzo had done to her, to them—had shaken her to her core. But there had been something else in Hiruzen's words that day, something she hadn't felt in years: a promise. Soon, he had said, his voice heavy with both regret and resolve. Soon.
The needle slid into Hiruzen arm smoothly. She pressed the plunger, the liquid disappearing into his veins. Her heart beat a little faster despite herself. Theoretically, this should work. Theoretically.

Hiruzen's face remained impassive as she stepped back, discarding the syringe. He rubbed his arm absentmindedly, watching her with calm curiosity. "Well?"

Nono crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing slightly as she observed him. "Well, you haven't exploded. That's a good start."

"Encouraging," Hiruzen replied dryly. "You're a natural at bedside manner."

"Better than your patience," she shot back, though her expression softened just slightly. "Now, we wait."

"And here I thought I'd feel invincible immediately," he said, leaning back in his chair with an air of feigned disappointment.

Nono snorted quietly.

Chapter 9 to 13 published on P.a-tr.e°on with exclusive extras.
Also, again - there is many questions in the reviews on my take on the technology levels, on the Edo Tensei...There is a lot of background information for this story (political landscape, medical knowledge, tech levels) on Questionable Question, where I made about 4 000 words of explanation on that. So if it interests you, I've answered your reviews and questions there.