After some superficial analysis, Hagoromo came to a very simple conclusion:
If you wanted to get along pleasantly with Orochimaru, there was only one requirement—
Willingly offer yourself as research material.
Under normal circumstances, Orochimaru was surprisingly easy to talk to. Polite, measured, never relying on status—obsessive, but not arrogant.
For someone like Hagoromo, if he were willing to let Snake-sensei study him inside and out, top to bottom, front to back, the two of them would definitely develop a friendship that transcended ordinary bonds.
Absolutely guaranteed.
But could Hagoromo do that?
Of course not.
In his eyes, Orochimaru was no different from those kids who loved dismantling televisions and radios—taking things apart was one thing, but whether they could be put back together afterward was another matter entirely.
If Hagoromo ended up as a pile of irreversible components, who exactly was he supposed to complain to?
So no matter what, he would never participate in any experiment where he himself was the subject.
Hagoromo and Orochimaru both loved high-output, brutally powerful techniques. That gave them common ground.
But their philosophies ultimately diverged.
If Hagoromo could learn a technique, he learned it.
If he couldn't, he shrugged it off.
He had never once considered adding "external components" to himself.
Orochimaru, on the other hand, had a grand ambition:
To research and master every ninjutsu, and to endlessly develop new ones.
To achieve that goal, even changing bodies—or becoming something inhuman—was acceptable.
This was how he eventually walked down an extreme path.
Just like Jiraiya couldn't quit being a pervert, Orochimaru simply couldn't stop dissecting people.
It was a condition.
Incurable.
As a result, Hagoromo responded to all of Orochimaru's probing questions with a single, universal phrase borrowed from a certain "future person":
"That is classified."
After all, shinobi kept countless secrets—even from their own mothers. From any standpoint, Hagoromo had no obligation to satisfy Orochimaru's curiosity.
Especially since his most powerful and dangerous abilities weren't even ninjutsu, but something closer to superpowers—effectively a special form of kekkei genkai. No matter how interested Snake-sensei was, those were things he would never fully understand.
Orochimaru didn't take offense.
Whether the subject cooperated or not, research would continue regardless—cooperation merely made it less troublesome.
And when a scientist's curiosity ignited, it could be terrifying.
So if one were to ask Hagoromo how it felt working alongside Orochimaru—
Technically, the process was smooth. Snake-sensei's technical competence was beyond question.
But psychologically?
Enormous pressure.
If someone stared at you all day with damp, burning, predatory interest, anyone would feel uncomfortable.
To put it simply—
Hagoromo was terrified that Orochimaru might suddenly lick him.
He would rather bathe in the saliva of a split hound than endure that fate.
Fortunately, the assignment period was limited, and not every part of the Raikage research required Hagoromo's involvement.
Cherish life.
Stay away from Snake-sensei.
Whenever he wasn't needed, Hagoromo made a point of stepping out for air, abandoning the idea of witnessing Orochimaru's craftsmanship from start to finish.
Meanwhile…
"So let me get this straight," Hagoromo said flatly.
"For my very important fourteenth birthday, the combined gift from the three of you… is treating me to ramen?"
His eyes were dead.
His faith in his teammates—completely gone.
"And the real kicker?" he continued.
"We have to wait in this line. We came out for lunch, but by the time it's our turn, it'll be dinner. Maybe even a midnight snack."
Hagoromo was deeply tired of long, meaningless waiting.
"Hagoromo-taichō," Asuma Sarutobi said solemnly,
"Never forget that patience is an essential virtue for shinobi."
Hagoromo glanced sideways at him.
You're using shinobi patience for this—does your father know?
The situation was simple:
A legendary new ramen shop run by a man named Ichiraku had just opened, and Hagoromo's four-man squad was lining up.
Hagoromo had no idea that this man would later become a culinary legend whose ramen would dominate Konoha for decades—but food news had never been his specialty.
Konoha had clearly entered a large-scale rest period. Not just his teammates—many shinobi from the same generation had returned to the village.
"This ramen really is good," Kurenai Yuhi said.
"Just look at the line. You should understand that, Hagoromo."
"And besides," she added pointedly,
"treating you to ramen is already a huge expense for us. We're not rolling in mission pay like you are."
Aoba Yamashiro nodded along in agreement.
Kurenai's words clearly carried subtext—but Hagoromo pretended not to notice. Today, he finally realized something important:
His entire squad consisted of cheapskates.
Compared to this, Kushina truly was a real teacher.
Her birthday gift to him had been an A-rank fūinjutsu—the Five Elements Seal.
Unfortunately, that technique required mastery over all five chakra natures (author's secondary setting). With only Lightning, Fire, and Water affinities, Hagoromo could only stare at it helplessly.
Another reason the squad had gathered was less cheerful:
They were about to be disbanded.
During the rest period, Konoha would reorganize squad compositions. For various reasons, Hagoromo would likely be reassigned elsewhere—meaning the "Hagoromo Squad" would cease to exist.
It was a pity. After more than a year of teamwork, they had finally reached peak efficiency.
But in wartime, such changes were routine. Everyone had grown used to it.
"Oh right," Asuma said, pulling something from his gear pouch.
"Check this out—pretty interesting."
It looked like a bladed knuckle weapon.
"This is a chakra-conductive weapon I just got. I call it Flying Swallow. When I feed chakra into it—like this—it forms a sharp Wind Release chakra blade."
Interesting.
Hagoromo glanced at it, then lost interest.
"Chakra blades… must be nice," he said casually, extending his hand. Two fingers came together, and a miniature Chidori Spear formed at his fingertips.
Asuma swallowed back a mouthful of metaphorical blood.
The emotion known as friendship termination washed over him.
You can be strong—but don't rub it in.
Fortunately, two familiar idiots arrived to save him from further embarrassment.
Kakashi Hatake and Might Guy.
"Hey Hagoromo, about that Raikage—" Guy began eagerly.
Hagoromo instantly clamped a hand over his mouth.
Low profile, okay? This is not something you shout in public.
"Impossible," Hagoromo said seriously.
"How could that be? I'm just a chūnin."
Technically, his jōnin promotion notice had already arrived on his birthday—but until the paperwork was finalized, he was still a chūnin.
"Idiot," Kakashi thought silently.
Guy was released, and the two of them lined up behind the group—proving that even elite shinobi were willing to wait half a day for ramen.
"But I heard it was Kushina-senpai's disciple," Guy said.
"That's you, isn't it?"
"Nope. False intelligence," Hagoromo replied smoothly.
"That was Iwagakure slandering Konoha to redirect Kumogakure's hatred."
"Oh! So that's what it was?" Guy's eyes widened.
Thinking about it, that confusing, impossible-to-trace behavior did resemble Hagoromo's style.
Still—no one actually believed he could kill the Raikage.
You could be impressive, sure—but not that impressive.
Smart people didn't ask further.
Less smart people had already been fooled.
The conversation drifted elsewhere as the line slowly advanced.
Then Hagoromo noticed someone approaching—
Minato Namikaze.
Hagoromo waved, assuming Minato was there for him.
He was wrong.
Minato nodded politely to Hagoromo, then turned to Kakashi.
"Kakashi, you have a mission."
"Yes, Minato-sensei."
Minato then added, "Hagoromo, I originally planned to include you, but since you're currently assisting Orochimaru-sama, I reassigned another member."
Hagoromo shrugged. Honestly, he would have preferred a mission.
Shinobi etiquette forbade prying into others' assignments—
…though he could always ask Kushina later.
Given the current frontline situation, the large-scale rest period, and Minato's relaxed demeanor, the mission likely wasn't too dangerous.
Probably a casual B- or C-rank, at least by Minato's standards.
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