Chi Yu's Month in the Serpent's Den
Chi Yu was deep in the throes of Orochimaru's brutal training regimen.
Unlike most jōnin instructors who crushed their students under the weight of physically intense tasks from day one, Orochimaru's methods were far more insidious. The training seemed deceptively easy at first—like a warm-up lap before the real race. But over time, the façade peeled back, revealing a slow-burning torment that tested both body and mind.
It was psychological warfare, masked as instruction.
Still, credit where it was due—Orochimaru's teaching ability was terrifyingly effective.
He tailored the curriculum with surgical precision, zeroing in on Chi Yu's weaknesses and honing them like a blade. The pace was relentless, the feedback clinical, and the results undeniable.
If only he summoned fewer snakes.
Chi Yu had spent nearly a month in the underground complex—an eerie labyrinth that felt more like a science lab than a dojo. At first, he'd battled common snakes. Now, Orochimaru had escalated to summoning snakes from Ryūchi Cave, legendary beasts that not only possessed significant chakra but were revered as contract summonings in their own right. They were a massive step above the standard fodder.
Chi Yu now trained daily with these chakra-enhanced serpents, all while wearing weighted training blocks on his limbs. More than once, he'd found himself pinned under a colossal viper's tail or nearly devoured by an aggressive albino serpent that hissed with intelligence.
His body was battered, but his resolve was steel.
He had also recently mastered the basic Shadow Clone Technique—not the forbidden Multiple Shadow Clone Technique (Tajū Kage Bunshin no Jutsu) made infamous by Naruto, but the standard B-rank version, allowing him to create a single, fully tangible duplicate.
Chi Yu, of course, tried using the clone for accelerated training—Naruto-style.
Terrible idea.
When the clone dispelled, the mental fatigue, chakra depletion, and pain surged back into Chi Yu's body like a chakra feedback loop from hell. The whiplash nearly knocked him unconscious.
That sensation? Like taking an express elevator straight to the Pure Land.
Still, he adapted. Now, he used the clone for theoretical learning—memorizing hand signs, elemental theory, and combat simulations. When it dispelled, Chi Yu gained knowledge without the physical cost. A clever workaround.
Every day stretched his chakra reserves and stamina to their limit.
Thankfully, Orochimaru administered a special concoction—a pale, bitter liquid that he claimed was a nutrient-rich elixir. According to him, it restored bodily functions, accelerated recovery, and flushed out fatigue. And to Chi Yu's amazement—it actually worked. After drinking it each night, he could sleep until dawn and wake up without an ache in his body.
It was the only reason he could survive this hellish routine.
That morning, Orochimaru had been uncharacteristically absent, leaving behind only a curt message:
> "Train on your own today."
Even in his absence, Chi Yu didn't slack off.
Training wasn't for Orochimaru. It was for himself.
After completing his morning drills, Chi Yu removed the weighted blocks, wiped the sweat from his face, and prepped to make lunch—udon noodles with fresh greens. Normally, Orochimaru prepared the meals himself (a surprisingly domestic twist for the man who once experimented on his own arms), but today Chi Yu was left to fend for himself.
He barely started boiling water when Orochimaru returned—now dressed in his classic combat gear, a sleeveless tunic and snake-patterned bindings around his arms.
"I've taken a C-rank mission for you," he said bluntly. "We leave immediately."
Chi Yu blinked. "Huh? That's sudden."
Orochimaru leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, yellow eyes gleaming. "It's time to see the results of your training. You'll be exterminating a group of bandits in the Land of Rice Fields. Consider this your first real test."
Chi Yu set down the green onions in his hand, wiping them dry. "Alright, I'll grab my katana."
Before he could move, Orochimaru tossed a pouch to him.
Chi Yu caught it mid-air. Inside were five kunai, a handful of shuriken, and several explosive tags—more than he could afford on his own.
"Thank you… Sensei."
He fastened the pouch to his hip. Truth be told, Chi Yu had been living entirely off Orochimaru these past weeks—food, shelter, resources. Now even ninja tools.
Explosive tags weren't cheap, either. A few could cost as much as a week's rent in Konoha. The gesture made Chi Yu uneasy, though he said nothing.
Sword in hand, Chi Yu followed Orochimaru out of the hidden entrance beneath Konoha. Sunlight washed over him for the first time in weeks.
It felt surreal.
As they walked, memories resurfaced—of his parents, of a childhood that had felt warm and bright despite the harsh world around them. Those years had shaped him. Grounded him. Given him purpose.
Without that love, Chi Yu might've become just another weapon shaped by war.
Now, he fought for that warmth. For himself. For Kushina Uzumaki. For the future.
"You're quiet. Something on your mind?" Orochimaru asked, voice as smooth and cold as a blade.
Chi Yu exhaled slowly, eyes on the horizon. "Nothing serious. Just... this is my first time leaving the village since I returned. Kind of exciting."
Orochimaru gave a faint smirk, eyes narrowing. "Is that so…"
He didn't press. But he knew.
He always knew.
---
The Land of Rice Fields.
A minor nation bordering the Land of Fire. No shinobi village. No structured military force. Just scattered towns and a daimyo who barely lifted a finger.
It was a haven for criminals.
The bandits they were targeting had already pillaged multiple villages—massacring the residents without distinction. The bloodshed was senseless. Merciless.
Now, Chi Yu and Orochimaru stood atop a hill overlooking the latest village they'd hit. Smoke still rose from the torched houses, and the bandits were down in the square, drinking and laughing as they celebrated their carnage.
Men. Women. Children. All dead.
And the murderers? Holding a feast.
Chi Yu's eyes darkened.
All the bandits had gathered together. That would make things easier.
With quiet precision, he slipped down the hillside, keeping to the shadows. He had prepared traps along the path—wire traps, explosive tags concealed beneath leaves, kunai set as deadfalls.
He approached the square, kunai already drawn.
In front of him, the drunken bandits jeered and joked about their victims—bragging about their kills like they were trophies.
Chi Yu crouched in the dark, gaze cold, killing intent seeping from every pore.
No mercy today.