NOVEL WEB Chapter 67: CHAPTER 67
c 67: Domineering Senior Brother
After purchasing a few bottles of sake from a discreet shop near the outer districts one that didn't strictly enforce age restrictions Gen Uchiha made his way to Orochimaru's private mansion nestled on the eastern edge of the village, near the cliffs.
When he arrived, he found the front gate locked, and the house dark and quiet. But Gen didn't hesitate. He leapt onto the tiled roof and slid a window open with practiced ease before stepping inside. It wasn't his first time entering this way.
Finding the interior just as he remembered cold, quiet, sparsely decorated he picked a seat in the small study and silently began refining chakra, letting the peaceful solitude wrap around him like a blanket.
Roughly half an hour later, he sensed movement outside. Without activating the Sharingan, he still recognized the chakra signature—spirited, erratic, yet familiar.
He opened the front door.
Standing there with a somewhat annoyed expression was Mitarashi Anko, Orochimaru's most outspoken and animated disciple.
"Where's sensei?" she asked.
"Not here," Gen replied flatly.
Anko clicked her tongue. "Tch. Didn't expect him to lose the Hokage election. That was a shock."
She entered uninvited, slumped onto the couch, her face marked with dismay and barely masked disappointment.
"You're not sulking just because your teacher didn't become Hokage, are you?" Gen asked calmly, eyes half-lidded with indifference.
Anko sat up straight and pouted. "That's not just any teacher. It's the Orochimaru. Being his disciple is like being a Hokage-in-training."
"Then maybe you should try becoming Minato-senpai's disciple instead. With Orochimaru-sensei's skill, the transfer would probably go smoothly," Gen said with a faint smirk.
Anko shuddered. "No way. I'd rather eat expired dango. I'm sticking with sensei—even if he's not the Hokage."
"Loyalty is admirable," Gen said, rising. "Come on. Let's get groceries before he returns."
"You cook?" Anko raised an eyebrow in disbelief.
"There are plenty of things I can do," he said, rolling his eyes.
"That's… actually kinda cool," she muttered.
"So, what's on the menu tonight?"
Gen rubbed his chin, recalling something he'd once observed: "Orochimaru-sensei seems to favor soft-boiled eggs. How about oden?"
"Oden?" Her eyes lit up instantly. "Yeah!"
Though rough around the edges, Anko was a true foodie, easily distracted from her worries by the prospect of a good meal.
The two headed to a nearby open-air market and a corner grocer. Since the main market near the Hokage Monument had closed early due to the announcement about Minato's appointment, they visited a smaller shop on the southern ring. Gen bought fresh eggs, daikon, tofu, shiitake mushrooms, fish cakes, and kelp broth concentrate. Anko insisted on adding konjac noodles and miso paste.
Back at the mansion, they got to work in the kitchen. Anko, while enthusiastic, cooked like she fought—aggressive and without restraint. Her knife skills were wild, and she didn't bother measuring anything, but Gen didn't mind. He preferred doing things precisely himself anyway.
Around 7:30 p.m., Orochimaru silently emerged from underground via a hidden passage in the garden, his expression unreadable as he brushed dirt from his robe. He had just finished a long discussion with Danzo about future funding reallocations and was mentally exhausted.
Seeing the house lit and smelling something unfamiliar but pleasant, he paused.
A quiet smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
He stepped inside.
"Sensei, you're back!" Anko called out as she peeked from the kitchen, her apron streaked with miso.
"Mm," Orochimaru murmured. Then his golden eyes caught sight of another figure moving about the kitchen. "Gen? I wasn't expecting you."
"Xuan's making oden," Anko said cheerfully. "We even bought extra eggs—your favorite."
Orochimaru tilted his head slightly. The corners of his mouth twitched upward. "How thoughtful."
Ten minutes later, the three sat around a low dining table in the formal room. Steam rose from a large clay pot divided into compartments, each holding simmering ingredients—golden eggs, fresh vegetables, lean cuts of meat, and a medley of mushrooms.
Gen, wordless as ever, uncorked one of the sake bottles and glanced at Orochimaru.
"Sensei, a drink?"
Orochimaru hesitated. He rarely drank his mind was his sharpest weapon, and he disliked anything that dulled it. But tonight was an exception.
"…Just one."
He poured a glass for Orochimaru, then for himself.
Anko blinked. "You're drinking?"
Gen raised an eyebrow. "Do you have a problem?"
"You're underage," she pointed out. "Alcohol's one of the three taboos for shinobi."
Gen scoffed. "So what?"
He leaned back and added, "Anko, rules only matter when I choose to follow them."
"When are they worthless?"
"When I don't want them to matter," he said evenly.
That calm defiance made Anko shiver.
So domineering…! she thought. He says it so casually, but it's like a declaration of war.
She glanced at Orochimaru, seeking guidance, but the Sannin remained silent.
Taking courage from that silence, Anko said boldly, "Then I want to drink too!"
Gen turned to Orochimaru with a look of mock disapproval.
The Sannin finally chuckled—a soft, hoarse sound. "One glass won't kill her. Even the village rules are sometimes… elastic."
Then he picked up his own cup and sipped slowly. Afterward, he reached for an egg and, true to his reptilian habits, swallowed it whole with a single gulp.
Gen filled Anko's glass and raised his own.
"To freedom. And doing whatever we damn well please."
Clink.
The glasses met with a sharp ring above the steaming pot. Then, together, they drank.
Anko smacked her lips. "Tastes weird. Not as good as sweets… but not bad."
For the next hour, they ate, drank, and even bantered. At one point, Anko cheerfully tried to encourage Orochimaru with a clumsy pep talk. He nodded slightly but didn't respond further.
Gen said nothing. He knew Orochimaru didn't need comfort only understanding.
Anko's view of their teacher was childlike. She thought he was heartbroken over not becoming Hokage.
But Gen understood. The title of Hokage was never Orochimaru's goal, it was merely a tool. Without it, the tool was gone. Time to forge new ones.
By the time the pot was half-empty, Anko was flushed and glassy-eyed. The alcohol had kicked in fully.
Gen carried her to the guest room upstairs and tucked her in under a plain brown quilt. She murmured something incoherent and drifted off.
Returning to the dining room, Gen sat across from Orochimaru, who was slowly twirling his nearly empty cup.
"Teacher, I need your help."
Orochimaru didn't look up. "Speak."
Gen poured more sake into both their cups. The sound of liquid pouring was soft, like a whisper in the quiet room.
"I want to purchase a set of specialized research equipment."
Orochimaru's gaze sharpened slightly.
"I assume not for cooking."
"I want to study the biological properties of the Sharingan. Normal analysis techniques are insufficient. I need scanners and cellular analyzers."
"Bio-monitoring equipment. Full-spectrum chakra diagnostics. Possibly neural trackers," Orochimaru murmured.
"You plan to perform human experiments?"
Gen didn't flinch. "I want to verify a hypothesis. I'll need accuracy not just Byakugan-level observation."
Orochimaru swirled his cup and chuckled softly. "You've been paying attention."
He took a sip, and for the first time, his pale face showed the faintest blush bizarre against his otherwise corpse-like complexion.
"Be careful," he warned. "Even sanctioned research has limits. You'll have to hide certain results."
"I'm already covered. This project is officially endorsed by the upper echelons. Even if exposed, there are bureaucratic loopholes."
Orochimaru gave him a long, silent look.
"Unless…" Gen added, "I choose to leave the village."
Those words hit the air like a dropped kunai.
Orochimaru stared into his cup, lost in thought. "Indeed. Once the Fourth becomes Hokage, Danzo's influence will wane. My own funding will be cut. The Root experiments will face tighter restrictions. I'll have to beg for scraps."
"That's no way to advance science," he added bitterly. "If Konoha won't give me room, then I'll find it elsewhere."
A chill ran down Gen's spine.
Was this the moment? The origin of his teacher's defection?
"…Are you planning to leave?" he asked, voice low.
Orochimaru finally looked at him.
This disciple this sharp, secretive, talented boy—knew him better than Jiraiya or Tsunade ever had. They didn't understand. But Gen… Gen saw him.
"Maybe not yet," Orochimaru replied softly.
"But one day, when the walls close in… yes, I will leave."
And Gen, heart pounding, felt the weight of that confession settle into his bones like a prophecy.
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