The Hodgepodge Shinobi: A Gacha-Gone-Wrong Adventure

The hospital wing was quiet in the way only hospitals could be — filled with the soft, sterile hum of magic and medicine, whitewashed walls too clean to feel warm, and the occasional distant clack of sandals against tile. Alex's room was near the back, a private recovery chamber reserved for shinobi with trauma too fragile to share with others. Tsunade sat in the single visitor chair, a clipboard in her lap, eyes half-lidded as she reread the vitals for the third time.

Alex was unconscious again. Not medically induced, not chakra suppressed. Just exhausted. His body had stabilized, and his chakra was no longer spiking unpredictably. But Tsunade didn't like what she'd seen when it had.

It hadn't been raw chakra. It wasn't even just violent. It had twisted. Flickered. Bent at angles chakra wasn't supposed to go. Not nature transformation. Not cursed energy. Not any kekkei genkai she'd ever seen. Just… wrong.

Her pen scratched something down absently. No known bloodline. No clan. No training history beyond the Academy. Chakra network slightly malformed, but stable. Muscle density was abnormal, as if his body had been conditioned far beyond the norm for a genin his age, but with no corresponding damage or scarring from overuse. Just strange.

The door clicked open behind her.

She didn't look up.

"You know," she said flatly, "you could've knocked."

Orochimaru's voice was as smooth as ever. "Forgive me, old habits. Though I'm surprised you beat me here. You usually avoid hospitals when you're not the one holding the scalpel."

Tsunade still didn't look at him. "I'm not in the mood, Orochi."

Orochimaru stepped into the room with the soundless grace of a predator. His arms were folded into his long sleeves, his yellow eyes glinting as they settled on Alex in the bed.

"So this is the child," he murmured.

"Don't touch him."

His gaze didn't move. "You wound me. I only came to observe. No needles, no poisons. Not today."

Tsunade stood slowly, letting the clipboard fall onto the bedside table with a quiet clack. "You already made your interest clear in the meeting."

He turned his head slightly toward her, just enough to show the faint smirk on his face. "You don't find it curious? A child, barely trained, whose body responded to mortal danger with something none of us can categorize? Chakra signatures fluctuating in patterns no textbook covers. You've seen the scans. You felt it too."

Tsunade's voice was sharp. "That doesn't make him yours."

"No," Orochimaru said, stepping closer to the bed. "But it does make him something… fascinating."

Alex stirred slightly, letting out a weak breath, but didn't wake.

"I know that look," Tsunade said, narrowing her eyes. "You're not just thinking about chakra. You're thinking about structure. About breaking it down."

"I'm thinking," Orochimaru replied calmly, "about why a genin with no bloodline, no history, and no killer instinct snapped so violently that three seasoned enemy ninja died in under ten seconds — one of them imploded. You've seen that happen before, Tsunade?"

She didn't answer.

"Mm," he hummed, taking another step. He didn't reach for Alex, but leaned forward slightly, letting his gaze wander over Alex's still form. "If I didn't know better, I'd say someone built him."

Tsunade moved to stand directly between him and the bed.

"Try it," she said, eyes flashing. "Try laying a single finger on him, and I'll show you just how much chakra I can channel into a fist these days."

Orochimaru paused. Then smiled.

"Protective, aren't we? That's new."

"Maybe I'm just sick of seeing people carved open to satisfy someone's curiosity."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," he said, finally turning from Alex and strolling lazily toward the door. "If I wanted to carve him open, I wouldn't have come through the front door."

She watched him with clenched fists until he was nearly gone. But just before stepping out, Orochimaru paused in the doorway and glanced back.

"Keep watching him, Tsunade," he said. "Because whatever that was in the field… it wasn't instinct."

And then he was gone.

Tsunade stared at the empty doorway for a long moment before turning back to Alex. His breathing was slow. Shallow. Peaceful.

But something deep beneath his skin — in his chakra, his bones, his being — wasn't peaceful at all.