Meanwhile, on the other side, Orochimaru whom Hii Kōri had imagined frolicking through a honey sea of research was not, in fact, tinkering with any mysterious new technology.
On the contrary, Orochimaru had recently been so bored he was almost at loose ends. For someone who, aside from missions, was usually reclusive, he had started wandering around the village.
The reason was simple: he had run out of money. All his experiments were stalled, completely frozen.
"Hashirama's cells" were called that for a reason. The extraordinary vitality of Hashirama Senju's cells far beyond that of other Senju meant that even decades after his death, his cells retained extreme activity and aggressiveness.
Processing such cells naturally requires specialized equipment.
Reinforced culture tanks with independent sterilization functions, various monitoring and experimental devices, computing equipment, a newly built laboratory, an independent power system to keep the lab running without external interference…
Though these one-time expenses were enormous, they were long-term fixed assets, so he wouldn't count them as ongoing costs.
But beyond that, the catalysts and inducers needed to stimulate cell division and induce specific traits, the specialized test strips for measuring data, the drugs to suppress transplant rejection… these consumables were an unavoidable daily expense.
Given the current state of chemical engineering worldwide, this level of consumption was essentially the same as throwing money into an incinerator.
Even setting all that aside, the most basic experimental material human lives, the cheapest thing in a ninja's eyes was still a major expense in Orochimaru's lab.
Yes, Konoha had initiated the Hashirama cell project to reclaim the "Wood Release" brand. From the start, the village intended to use war orphans or adult ninja as transplant recipients. But that would only happen once the results were stable enough for "their own people."
Until then, the test subjects with their inevitably high attrition rates would be death-row prisoners, prisoners of war, or "slaves" bought on the black market.
Of course, out of "humanitarianism" or simply cost considerations, Orochimaru had considered using animals for preliminary testing. That would have been the standard procedure.
But while lab rats shared high genetic similarity with humans, they failed miserably in physical constitution.
In the first animal test, a single rat couldn't tolerate even one Hashirama cell. There was no time for sterilization.
The moment the cell was injected, the rat instantly warped into a grotesque mass somewhere between animal and plant. Branches, soaked in blood far exceeding the rat's volume, burst forth, tearing it into tiny shreds.
Yet even then, the thing that had been a rat didn't die. It used the branches to pull in other rats, incorporating them into its body, then dragged in two researchers who couldn't escape in time. The final result was a mass of mingled flesh and wood fibers—an abomination that completely destroyed that entire laboratory.
The reaction was too fast, too violent, completely uncontrollable. Even as a bioweapon, it was useless.
Further research could optimize it, but current time and financial constraints wouldn't allow Orochimaru to indulge his curiosity.
Though the Second Hokage had left useful samples, they couldn't be wasted. So that line of inquiry was shelved.
That was why Orochimaru had skipped animal testing and gone straight to human trials and why he needed a new lab. The old safety measures were clearly insufficient against Hashirama's cells.
The speed at which his lab "consumed" people—faster than planting rice—had driven up the price of human materials on the black market to the point where the Anbu had to go out and "collect" suitable test subjects.
You couldn't trust regular ninja with this. Fighting and killing were one thing—ninja did that for money. But killing and capturing ordinary people to use as disposable materials, torturing them without restraint… there was a decisive difference. As for capturing enemy ninja… anyone sane wouldn't order their own people to capture enemy ninja alive on a large scale.
That would cause a mutiny.
The Anbu—the Assassination Tactical Special Forces, founded by Tobirama Senju and expanded by Hiruzen Sarutobi—were well suited for such tasks.
But even expanded, the Anbu were few. As the Hokage's elite forces, they had endless work during this period. Helping Orochimaru collect "special materials" occasionally was already their limit. Using the Anbu as a stable material supply was unrealistic.
Meanwhile, as the experiment progressed, Orochimaru's requirements for test subjects had grown increasingly stringent.
Chakra nature, physical strength, mental state, compatibility with Hashirama's cells, the influence of gender and constitution… for in-depth research, the list of requirements went on and on.
You could say Orochimaru now needed both too many and too few people.
Combined, these factors had slowed his progress considerably.
By now, he was completely "out of ammunition and food."
Though the Hashirama cell project was a major strategic initiative funded by the village, the problem was that after their "defeat" in the Second Shinobi World War, Konoha's finances were in poor shape.
After paying survivor benefits to the families of the fallen, simply keeping the village running was a struggle.
With cash flow this tight, competition for limited funding among departments was fierce.
Though Danzō Shimura—after losing the race for Hokage—had been dreaming of establishing his secret organization "Root," Root was currently like a stray dog on the roadside. No one paid him any attention.
But when Danzō requested funding to "rebuild the damaged intelligence network," "counter foreign infiltration," "gather external intelligence," no one could object.
Not even Orochimaru, whose own funding had been cut.
Whatever else you might say about Danzō, no one could deny his ability in intelligence work. And among Konoha's leadership, he had an impeccable reputation for never embezzling.
Even Orochimaru admitted to occasionally skimming funds for his own pet projects. Danzō never had that problem.
Danzō's ambition was never hidden—he wanted power. In that pursuit, he kept his hands cleaner than anyone.
Recently, over a dozen Konoha shinobi on missions had gone missing—neither seen alive nor found dead.
Jiraiya, sent to investigate, had returned with serious injuries and intelligence that the "Crimson of Agony" had infiltrated the Land of Fire undetected and taken the departed Tsunade hostage.
Adding to that, other villages and organizations seemed to have caught wind of something, all subtly increasing their infiltration and reconnaissance of the Land of Fire's borders… These events had pushed intelligence work to an unprecedented priority.
The result was that Orochimaru couldn't compete for funding against the intelligence department.
Hiruzen Sarutobi, called the "Professor of Ninjutsu," understood research. He didn't question Orochimaru's progress.
But the situation was clear: one was an urgent, time-sensitive crisis that could blow up at any moment; the other was a long-term project that might not yield usable results for another year or two. The village's choice was obvious.
Orochimaru wasn't bitter about it.
He was deeply interested in Hashirama's cells himself—he'd be happy to fund the research out of his own pocket. But the reality was that his personal savings were a drop in the bucket compared to the scale of such a large project.
Having thrown himself into this village secret research, he hadn't taken outside missions in a long time.
And before Tsunade left the village, he had given her most of his savings. Naturally, his wallet was flat now. His pockets were almost emptier than his soul.
Walking under the early spring sun for the first time in ages, Orochimaru's expression didn't change, but those who knew him could see a flicker of listlessness deep in his eyes.
"…Suddenly, I dislike Hii Kōri."
Wandering aimlessly, Orochimaru clicked his tongue, recalling that man—their last meeting had been in Amegakure.
Those missing Konoha ninja were most likely captured by Hii Kōri as materials. Based on their earlier exchange, Orochimaru was sure of it.
Capturing people for experiments—he understood that. The Second Hokage had used countless lives researching Impure World Reincarnation, and Orochimaru himself was doing the same with Hashirama's cells.
But one thing was another. Understanding didn't mean he wasn't annoyed.
If you're going to capture people, why not go after smaller countries or minor villages? And even if you insist on targeting Konoha ninja in the Land of Fire, why let Jiraiya find your trail?
With such a dangerous man surfacing in the Land of Fire, Konoha had naturally gone full "spinosaurus mode"—hissing on high alert. And now Hii Kōri had simply patted his ass and left, leaving Orochimaru's funding slashed and his experiments stalled.
"…What a terrible person."
Showing rare emotion, Orochimaru punched a nearby tree. Feeling the rough bark, he sighed helplessly.
What could he do about it now?
"...Hm?"
Orochimaru looked up. Unknowingly, he had wandered to Konoha's cemetery. As far as he could see, there were only simple headstones.
Since returning after the war to pay respects, he hadn't been here. In his view of life and death, mourning the dead was meaningless.
He meant to turn away, but his feet wouldn't move. Pressing his lips together, he stepped into the cemetery.
His already quiet footsteps grew softer. His pale form in a gray-white robe looked like a wandering spirit.
After a while, his steps stopped before an unremarkable grave.
Nawaki. Tsunade's younger brother. The stone slab was plain; the inscription brief.
Orochimaru stood silently before the grave, staring at the name as if trying to see through the dirt and coffin, to look once more at that energetic child who had dreamed of becoming Hokage.
But the more he tried to recall, the fuzzier that face became. In contrast, the boy's death—his lower body shredded by explosive tags, organs exposed, his upper body riddled with kunai wounds—was starkly vivid.
Orochimaru closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. The still-chilly spring air spread through his nostrils, cooling the nonexistent scent of blood.
Only when the sunset had faded to its final embers did Orochimaru seem to return from his long reverie.
He raised his pale, slender hand and gently patted the top of the headstone—as gently as he had once patted that boy's head.
Without another word, he turned and walked out of the cemetery as quietly as he had come.
"All things that exist shall eventually cease"… was it?
Looking at the darkening sky—which reminded him of smoked salmon—Orochimaru recalled Hii Kōri's words.
But he felt no sense of "ceasing." Only a hollow emptiness, so profound that he considered seeing how many whole boiled eggs he could swallow in one go, just to kill time.
Walking back down a familiar street, his gaze settled on a house in the distance.
Jiraiya's home.
Maybe I'll go check on that idiot.
When bored, teasing a fool might be decent entertainment?
He hoped so.
***
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