Seeing Orochimaru standing before him, Akira couldn't help but feel a ripple of doubt stir in his heart.
Why would Orochimaru, one of the Legendary Sannin, a man shrouded in both awe and infamy, personally seek him out? As far as he knew, the original owner of this body—the child named Akira—had never had any direct interaction with him. There was no reason for a shinobi of Orochimaru's stature to take notice of an academy student, no matter how gifted.
Although his mind was spinning with questions, Akira kept his expression carefully neutral. Since Orochimaru had come calling for him by name, avoiding the encounter was no longer an option. The only thing to do now was play along, tread carefully, and make sure not to slip up.
When he finally stood before the pale, snake-like man, Akira lifted his gaze and locked eyes with him. Those vertical, inhuman pupils were even more unsettling in real life than in the scattered memories of his past life as a reader of the original story. For a brief moment, Akira was genuinely curious whether Orochimaru's eyes were the result of some ocular jutsu or simply an external manifestation of his deep descent into inhumanity.
"Who are you? What do you want with me?" Akira asked, his tone sharp but steady, concealing both his guardedness and curiosity.
Orochimaru's thin lips curled upward, and his eyes glinted with a flicker of dark amusement. "Oh? You're not afraid of me?" he mused, a thread of genuine appreciation weaving through his voice.
It was rare for children, especially those yet to graduate from the Academy, to stand before him without trembling. His appearance, compounded by the cold aura of killing intent that seemed to hang around him like a second skin, often left young ninja paralyzed with fear or even reduced to tears. But this boy—this Akira—showed neither. His courage, or perhaps his indifference, was intriguing.
Of course, Orochimaru had no way of knowing the truth: that Akira's real strength was enough to face even him without fear. If it ever came to it, Akira had the confidence that with his Mangekyō Sharingan and mastery over his arsenal, he could summon Susanoo and crush Orochimaru on the spot.
Orochimaru, blissfully unaware of this silent calculation, stepped closer. "I am Orochimaru, the commander-in-chief of the Wind Country battlefield. There are some matters I need to discuss with you, so I suggest you prepare yourself."
Akira, reading his tone, subtly relaxed. It seemed Orochimaru wasn't here to cause him trouble. He nodded calmly. "I'm ready. Please, go ahead."
Orochimaru's expression darkened slightly, his voice growing heavier. "I'm afraid I bring unfortunate news. Your brother, Uchiha Kaba, has been missing for several months now. At this point, it's all but certain—he's dead."
The words hit the air like a hammer, though they stirred no true grief within Akira. He had never even met Kaba, the original owner's brother, so his death held little weight in his heart. But he understood the need to act. He lowered his head, allowing silence to stretch between them, adopting an expression that balanced grief and quiet acceptance.
Orochimaru interpreted the silence as a natural, if stoic, reaction to devastating news. He gave a small, hollow nod, offering a form of comfort that carried no real warmth.
"You don't need to suppress your feelings," Orochimaru said softly, though the chill in his voice belied any genuine empathy. "Life is fleeting, and on the battlefield, death is a shadow that follows every shinobi. This is the way of our world."
Akira clenched his fists, willing a few tears to well up in the corners of his eyes. When he looked back at Orochimaru, his voice was quiet but resolute.
"Thank you for your words, Lord Orochimaru. I prepared myself for this outcome long ago. My parents both died on the battlefield... I knew Kaba's fate would likely be the same. I can endure it."
Orochimaru studied the boy for a moment, noting his composure and the sharp clarity behind his tear-streaked eyes. He had suspected that Akira was special, but this only confirmed it. The boy's strength wasn't limited to his skills; he had a mind and spirit honed far beyond his years.
"You are strong," Orochimaru remarked. "Stronger than most adults I've met. But tell me, aren't you curious why I, as commander-in-chief, came to deliver this news in person?"
Akira didn't hesitate. "Yes, actually. Kaba was a common ninja. I didn't think someone of your rank would concern yourself with such a matter."
A faint smile crept across Orochimaru's pale face, though it never reached his eyes.
"Your instincts are sharp, as expected. I've heard much about you, Akira—a young genius, especially gifted in medical ninjutsu. Lately, I've been searching for a talented student to train under me, one with medical expertise. Would you be interested in becoming my disciple?"
For a moment, Akira stood frozen in thought. So that was the real reason behind this encounter.
It all made sense now. Orochimaru's interest wasn't in family ties or grief, but in talent—and more importantly, in securing a capable assistant for his own ambitions. Akira had his suspicions about Orochimaru's ongoing experiments with immortality, and his need for a disciple was likely tied to that research. In the original timeline, Orochimaru had taken an interest in Kabuto, grooming him into both a spy and a loyal assistant. But this time, his path had crossed Akira's first.
Becoming Orochimaru's disciple was both an opportunity and a gamble. The risks were obvious: being too closely linked to Orochimaru could make him a target of suspicion, especially once Orochimaru inevitably defected from the village. But the benefits were almost too great to ignore. Not only would he gain access to powerful, forbidden ninjutsu, but the chance to study under one of the most brilliant, albeit twisted, minds in the shinobi world was too valuable to pass up.
And then there was the Ryūchi Cave Summoning Contract. Akira knew Orochimaru held the summoning scroll, and if he could sign his name on it, it would open the path toward learning sage mode—an unparalleled advantage. Moreover, if he ever hoped to unlock the Rinnegan, access to Hashirama's cells would be essential, and Orochimaru was one of the few people who had them.
Weighing the pros and cons, Akira made his decision.
"I have heard of your strength and wisdom, Lord Orochimaru," Akira replied slowly, carefully choosing his words. "I would be honored to become your disciple. However, I am about to graduate from the Academy. Once assigned to a team, I'll likely be deployed to the battlefield. I'm afraid I might not have the time to properly receive your guidance."
Orochimaru's gaze sharpened. He had expected some hesitation, but Akira's answer carried both thoughtfulness and maturity beyond his years.
"You need not concern yourself with that," Orochimaru assured him smoothly. "I can request the Hokage to place you in my squad. That way, I can oversee both your training and your safety on the battlefield."
Hearing that, Akira lowered his head slightly, hiding the faint smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. Everything was falling neatly into place.
"In that case," he said, lifting his head once more, "I will gladly accept your offer, Lord Orochimaru. I look forward to learning from you."
Orochimaru's smile deepened, though it remained as eerie as ever. With a final nod, he turned and walked away, his pale figure vanishing into the dimming streets, leaving Akira standing alone beneath the sky, his mind still abuzz.
He was well aware that Orochimaru's offer wasn't one of pure mentorship—it was a calculated move. Orochimaru preferred to mold his subordinates through temptation and subtle manipulation, rather than crude threats or the cursed seals that Danzo so loved.
But Orochimaru had underestimated him. Akira wasn't some lost child craving guidance, nor was he a rootless soul desperate for power at any cost. He had his own path, his own goals. Their temporary alliance would benefit him now, and when the day came that Orochimaru's ambitions became dangerous, Akira would already have an exit plan.
This was the difference between Akira and the usual denizens of this world—or even other transmigrators. He wasn't the kind of person to cower at the thought of attracting Orochimaru's attention. On the contrary, he saw it as an opportunity. He would stand on the shoulders of giants, learn everything he could, and when the time was right, he would forge ahead on his own terms.
For now, he had taken the first step into a new chapter of his life—a chapter that promised danger, power, and endless possibilities.