Inside the underground base, Orochimaru’s expression suddenly shifted.
Itachi noticed imdiately and was about to speak when Orochimaru cut him off.
"mbers of the Akatsuki are here. It seems leaving won’t be so simple."
Upon hearing this, the two imdiately moved, preparing to head topside and confront the enemy.
Kimimaro stepped forward to follow them, but Orochimaru raised a hand to stop him.
"Kimimaro, the enemies this ti are far too dangerous. You need to evacuate."
Kimimaro clenched his fists, frustration clear in his eyes.
"No, Lord Orochimaru! Let buy you so ti. You two escape first. I can use the Dance of the Seedling Fern!"
Itachi remained silent, unsure how to respond.
Orochimaru’s expression darkened. Without warning, he appeared behind Kimimaro and bit down on his collarbone.
Three tomoe spun and condensed.
"I hadn’t planned to give you the Cursed Seal of Heaven... but if you can endure its power—"
A searing pain spread from the bite. The cold, sinister chakra devoured Kimimaro’s body, clouding his consciousness.
His legs gave out. Within seconds, he collapsed.
Itachi was stunned by Orochimaru’s sudden action. His voice was laced with disbelief and anger.
"Orochimaru, what the hell are you doing?! He’s just a kid! How could you—"
Orochimaru simply shook his head, gazing at Kimimaro’s fallen figure with a rare mix of pity and sorrow.
"Kimimaro’s bloodline is powerful, but it’s also eating away at his body."
"If he can endure this, there’s hope for a cure in the future. If not... this is the only path left to him."
"Use Reverse Summoning to get him out of here."
The next mont, Orochimaru’s deanor changed completely. His face twisted into a cruel grin as aggression returned to his eyes.
The cold-blooded genius of the Second and Third Great Ninja Wars—the fearso Shinobi who once played with life and death—had returned.
"Akatsuki... Perfect. Let’s settle old scores and new grudges all at once. I’ve got so new jutsu I’ve been dying to try out..."
Itachi fell silent again. Now that he understood Kimimaro’s condition, the way he looked at Orochimaru shifted.
So... you were trying to save that child after all.
The two erged from the base, stepping into the open.
Suddenly, a swarm of paper shuriken flew toward them from above.
With swift, fluid movents, Itachi ford hand signs, gathering chakra into his lungs. He exhaled sharply.
"Fire Style: Fireball Jutsu!"
A massive orange fireball erupted from his mouth, engulfing the incoming paper and reducing it to drifting black-and-white ash.
Shhhhhh!
Countless tiny senbon needles burst through the flas, aid directly at Itachi.
Itachi flipped backward several tis to evade.
Senbon hidden in the shuriken?
I was careless. I didn’t have my Sharingan activated...
Orochimaru raised his right hand, and with a sharp sweep of his sleeve, dozens of venomous snakes erupted forward.
"Hidden Shadow Snake Hands!"
The serpents whipped through the air, intercepting the poisoned senbon mid-flight.
Taking the opportunity, Itachi activated his Sharingan—three tomoe spinning into perfect clarity.
Together, the two repelled the ambush.
From their elevated vantage point, they saw the attackers clearly.
Black cloaks adorned with red clouds.
Akatsuki...
So this was the organization Uchiha Hikaru had warned him about.
Hikaru said you should never face them outnumbered—but right now, it was two versus two. And he had Orochimaru at his side.
Besides... he still had the Mangekyō.
A dry wind stirred Orochimaru’s long black hair.
He smirked, gaze cold and mocking.
"Konan. Sasori. Long ti no see. Forr comrades from Akatsuki, how nostalgic."
"Sending two full-fledged mbers just to find ? What’s the matter? Missed that much?"
"Thinking of inviting back?"
Konan’s face twisted with revulsion.
This disgusting snake. She’d tracked him across two abandoned bases, and now that she’d finally cornered him, he still had the nerve to act this infuriating.
Sasori’s hatred was deeper.
While both of them sought immortality, Orochimaru’s path was perverse—seeking physical immortality by stealing bodies. A grotesque mockery of art.
True immortality was the puppet body. Eternal. Untouched by decay.
To Sasori, Orochimaru was a walking insult to his life’s work.
He extended both hands, and thin, nearly invisible chakra threads shot out, connecting to the puppet beside him.
Ten blue threads lit up in the air—controlling the deadly puppet Fei Liuhu.
Konan followed, her skin beginning to flake apart into thousands of tiny sheets.
She transford completely into her angelic paper form—wings spread, body weightless.
"Dance of the Shikigami."
Sheets of paper spun into a massive wheel, rapidly rotating as it sliced through the air, aiming straight for Orochimaru and Itachi.
From left and right, they were pincered—puppet and paper closing in from both sides.
Itachi’s hands moved quickly—signs flashing—his chakra condensing and heating in an instant. This ti, it wasn’t the standard fireball.
A blazing dragon of fla erupted from his throat, roaring through the air.
"Fire Style: Dragon Fla Jutsu!"
The speed of the attack was at least five or six tis faster than before.
The spinning paper wheel t the oncoming inferno.
The wind pressure from the wheel tried to snuff the flas—but it was no match. The chakra concentration of the Dragon Fla Jutsu was leagues above a basic Fireball Jutsu.
Especially when used by an Uchiha.
The paper wheel was gradually consud, torn to ash by the fire.
The fla dragon twisted and flared, roaring forward toward Konan.
Sasori reacted instantly.
He yanked the chakra threads connected to Fei Liuhu, causing the puppet to slide in front of Konan.
He flexed his index finger downward—activating the chanism.
"Puppet Technique: chanical Light Shield Seal!"
A shimring blue chakra barrier erged just as the fire dragon collided with it, exploding against the shield in a burst of heat.
The red iron shell behind it glowed red-hot from the flas.
Itachi had blocked the combined assault of both Konan and Sasori with a single jutsu.
"It’s not that I can’t use large-scale ninjutsu," he said coldly, "I just don’t like wasting chakra."
He cast a glance at Orochimaru—half-arrogant, half-amused.
Orochimaru simply chuckled.
Still so competitive... after all, he was just a thirteen-year-old boy.
Still proud. Still a prodigy.
...
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