"Let You Become the Wind That Blows Through the Sky"
After praising Chi Yu's progress, Orochimaru's expression grew serious, and his tone sharpened like the hiss of a blade.
"First of all, your hand seal speed is lacking," he said, his golden eyes narrowing. "In a battle between equals, victory often belongs to the one who finishes their seals first. If you're too slow, you lose initiative—everything else becomes reactive. From now on, your training will include intensive hand seal drills."
He paused, then added, "That's the major issue. The rest are minor flaws you've shown in daily training—bad habits you need to iron out on your own."
Orochimaru's gaze softened slightly, though his voice retained its signature rasp. "Overall, not bad. Previously, your fundamentals were too shaky, so we delayed summoning training. But now, once you correct those issues, you'll be ready to sign a summoning contract with Ryūchi Cave… and begin learning my techniques."
Chi Yu's eyes lit up. His voice rang with eagerness: "Yes, Orochimaru-sensei!"
Orochimaru placed a hand on Chi Yu's shoulder. Then his voice lowered, like the flicker of a snake slithering in shadow.
"Chi Yu… I know what's in your heart. Konoha is a cage to you. You've been clawing your way toward strength, not for glory or duty—but because you want to escape."
Chi Yu frowned, preparing to object, but Orochimaru continued, his voice calm, unbothered by denial.
"You don't have to say anything. I told you before—we're the same. I want to learn every jutsu in the world. But my body… this aging, decaying shell… it's becoming my prison. Just like Konoha is yours."
He turned toward the night sky, wind tousling his hair and stirring the silence between them. The moon hung high, pale and indifferent.
"I want to break free of this prison. And because you're like me... I understand you."
Chi Yu stood frozen, eyes on Orochimaru's back.
Then Orochimaru smiled faintly, voice hoarse but laced with rare sincerity. "I have expectations for you now. I want to see where this wind will blow… my disciple."
Chi Yu blinked. He couldn't quite grasp what Orochimaru meant—but the word "disciple" struck a chord.
Still, he replied cautiously, "Orochimaru-sensei… I'll always be a shinobi of Konoha."
Orochimaru turned to him slowly, a curious glint in his eyes. He smiled, but beneath it was something ambiguous—too sharp to be affection, too faint to be scorn.
Orochimaru was still lost.
He was a man suspended in the aftermath of war. The Second Shinobi World War had shattered much of what held his ideals in place. He'd seen friends fall—Katō Dan, for one—and worst of all, Nawaki, Tsunade's younger brother and his own pupil, though impulsive, had held promise. Nawaki had rushed to the front lines, only to be torn apart by a pre-set landmine. By the time Orochimaru and Tsunade arrived, his body was mangled beyond recognition. Not even Tsunade's medical prowess could save him.
It was then Orochimaru began to question the value of life—so fragile, so easily snuffed out. He became obsessed with the idea that life was too short, that the human body was an inadequate vessel.
And so he turned to the study of forbidden techniques.
Driven by despair and ambition, Orochimaru had infiltrated Konoha's classified archives, assassinating the guards and stealing scrolls that detailed secret ninjutsu—among them, a fragmentary version of the Impure World Reincarnation (Edo Tensei), a technique originally developed by Tobirama Senju. Though he hadn't fully mastered it, it gave him the one revelation he needed:
The body is a vessel. The soul is the truth.
If he could transplant a soul into a new body, he could transcend mortality.
Of course, experimenting on humans was forbidden—not just in Konoha, but by the ethics upheld across the Five Great Nations. As a former student of the Third Hokage, Orochimaru was doubly bound—by law and by reputation.
But Orochimaru hated shackles. Whether they came from a decaying body or moral dogma, they only got in the way.
At first, Hiruzen had merely asked him to assess Chi Yu's potential. The boy was gifted—no doubt a prodigy—but what caught Orochimaru's attention wasn't his talent.
It was his eyes.
That same cold, calculated gaze Orochimaru had once worn during the war.
He remembered a mission in Iwagakure territory, when he, Tsunade, and Jiraiya were trapped in a cave. Jiraiya was badly wounded. Orochimaru had suggested abandoning—or killing—him to escape. Tsunade had called him heartless. Perhaps she was right. But in war, sentiment was a liability.
Now, seeing Chi Yu's quiet ruthlessness, Orochimaru saw a younger version of himself. Unrefined, but brimming with potential.
And now, he wondered: would this wind rise to tear through the sky—or falter, and fall to earth?
Chi Yu couldn't read Orochimaru's expression, but he felt something shift.
Orochimaru turned away, his voice returning to a whisper.
"Go ahead with your plans. I won't stop you. I'll help you. Because you are… my disciple. I'll shape you into a wind strong enough to blow through the heavens."
Chi Yu stared at Orochimaru's back. For the first time, it felt heavy—not with malice, but with something deeper. Grief, maybe. Regret?
He wasn't sure what to believe.
'Because you are my disciple.'
Those words echoed in his mind.
But would Orochimaru—the coldest, most self-serving shinobi he'd ever met—really recognize him as a true disciple?
He couldn't be sure. Orochimaru had many followers, but he treated most like tools.
Still… something felt different this time.
For now, Chi Yu said nothing more. Orochimaru seemed to understand him. And if he truly wouldn't interfere… then Chi Yu could continue moving forward, unburdened.
At least—for the time being.