Hiruzen persuaded me to die

"Coming for vengeance? For your master?"

Orochimaru's blade halted mid-thrust—not in flesh, but caught effortlessly between Naraku's fingers.

Naraku spoke lazily, as if commenting on the weather.

Orochimaru was silent for a moment. Then, in a low, gravelly voice:

"…No. I don't act for sentiment."

He pulled the sword back slowly.

"The old man's death… means nothing to me."

Naraku chuckled, faint amusement flashing in his eyes.

He knew Orochimaru too well. Their bond, twisted and ancient, was never simple.

Orochimaru killing Hiruzen Sarutobi in the original timeline—some called it revenge. Naraku knew better.

It was choreography. One final stage performance between master and fallen pupil.

He granted Sarutobi a warrior's death. Public. Symbolic. Preserving his legacy.

But now?

Naraku had ruined Hiruzen.

Not just physically—politically, morally, spiritually.

By the time the execution order came down, Sarutobi had been stripped of all honor.

His two sons were dead. His lifelong comrades erased. The Four Clans that once stood beside him—gone.

Even Tobirama Senju, resurrected, had condemned him and revoked his Hokage title.

What was left of the Third Hokage when he died?

Nothing. Not even legacy.

And Orochimaru hated that.

Not out of love.

But because Naraku had stolen the stage from him.

"I only wanted to test your strength, Naraku-kun."

Orochimaru took a graceful step back, his grin returning—sharp, knowing.

"I've heard stories, of course. Your… achievements."

But curiosity gleamed in his eyes.

The Byakugan—dismissed by many as inferior to the Sharingan—had evolved in Naraku's hands into something else entirely.

"Uchiha Fugaku and Shisui both awakened Mangekyō Sharingan. Their dojutsu shook even tailed beasts."

He leaned closer, snake-like.

"Your eyes… what have they become?"

Naraku said nothing at first.

Then calmly replied, "The evolved Sharingan is called Mangekyō. Its pinnacle technique: Susano'o."

He paused, then added, "As for my eyes… why don't you find out for yourself?"

He raised his hand—and the world shifted.

Gravity burst outward from his palm.

Orochimaru's body lurched forward—snatched from the ground by an invisible force.

"What… is this?!"

Orochimaru's golden eyes narrowed. He was yanked through the air like a leaf caught in a vacuum.

Then—

Naraku snapped his wrist.

The pull inverted.

Orochimaru was blasted backward—smashed into trees with crushing repulsion.

The forest cracked. Wood splintered. Leaves tore from their branches like fleeing birds.

Orochimaru landed hard, dust clouding around him.

"…That force…"

He rose slowly, brushing soil off his robes.

He remembered that power. He'd felt it before—Pain.

Years ago, when he and Sasori had confronted the self-proclaimed god of Amegakure.

He'd tried to ambush him—only to be thrown aside like trash.

This was the same power.

"Gravity… and repulsion," Orochimaru murmured.

He dusted himself off and continued coolly, "Interesting. I've recently joined a rather curious little organization. One of its members can do the same trick."

Naraku smirked.

"Akatsuki?"

Orochimaru didn't answer.

But Naraku knew.

Of course he had joined them.

Chasing the Rinnegan. Trolling for secrets. Funding his twisted labs under the Akatsuki's nose.

Typical.

And yet, behind the casual tone, Orochimaru's heart burned with envy.

The Rinnegan—wielded by Pain.

The Sharingan—wielded by the Uchiha.

And now… even the Byakugan had evolved into a power beyond his grasp.

Three great dojutsu—three keys to supremacy.

Each slipping through his fingers.

He narrowed his eyes.

"Besides gravity and repulsion, does your Byakugan offer anything else?"

Naraku answered without expression.

"There is more. But not needed… for you."

The slight tilt in his voice was pure dismissal.

It stung.

Orochimaru's face twisted briefly.

The same arrogance as Pain. That same omnipotent detachment.

"Then I'll make you use it!"

With a hiss, Orochimaru lunged.

His body blurred.

But Naraku didn't even move.

Until Orochimaru was right in front of him.

Then—snap—his hand closed around Orochimaru's wrist.

"What?!"

Orochimaru's mind reeled.

This was his top speed. His fastest strike.

Caught. Effortlessly.

"Step back."

Naraku whispered—and then slammed him into the ground.

A crater bloomed beneath Orochimaru's body.

Dust.

Silence.

Orochimaru struggled to rise, lips bloodied, pride bruised.

He couldn't believe it.

The gap in speed, power—technique.

No repulsion. No gravity tricks.

Just raw strength. And superiority.

Naraku had grown far beyond what he was when he first defected from Konoha.

Far beyond what Orochimaru had expected.

"…Unbelievable," Orochimaru muttered, face darkening.

And Naraku… still hadn't used his full power.