If he lacked natural talent for chakra, he would study it himself.
If he had no strength, he would seize it through science.
With his unique template, Hikuro had long since climbed to the very peak of this world.
Yet to grow stronger still, he needed more—much more.
“`
[ Name: Hikuro ]
[ Template: Singed, the Mad Chemist — 47% Integration ]
[ New World: None ]
[ Research Projects:
• Weakened Sage Body (Deployed)
• Life Formulas No.
1, No.
2, No.
3
• Body Modification Arts
• Prosthetic Integration Arts
• Organ & Cell Cloning
• Advanced Toxicology ]
“`
Hikuro now stood at the threshold of Kage-level, and could briefly unleash power equal to a fully realized Kage.
Singed’s Q ability let him combine his laboratory-made toxins into devastating mixtures—everything from cyanide, dioxin, sarin, and VX nerve gas, to deadly poisons native to the ninja world.
The result was a toxin for which there was almost no antidote.
Countless enemies had fallen victim to this technique, earning him the title King of Poisons.
Out of concern for the environment, he always drained every last trace of toxin away after use—otherwise, he would leave nothing but dead wasteland in his wake.
In this new life, Hikuro had no interest in the title of Hokage.
What he sought was simple: eternal life, and every pleasure the world had to offer.
To put the old foxes at ease, he had deliberately cultivated a reputation for indulging in beauty.
It worked—they happily opened their purses, eager to fund his research.
As for the Singed template itself?
Hikuro knew he could never match the chemist’s utter, unhinged madness.
His progress was steady, but slower than it might have been—for he was no true lunatic.
He still held to his own boundaries.
Yet he had made one crucial discovery: pushing his own limits, or creating breakthroughs in his research, raised his integration with the Singed template even higher.
Hikuro handed Danzō a vial of Life Formula No.
1, his voice low.
“I’ve pushed the cost down as far as it will go.
Even with toxins to suppress the side effects, an ordinary civilian still cannot be turned directly into a ninja.
“But it will take a Genin and make them as strong as a Chūnin—at the cost of ten years of their lifespan.”
Danzō’s eyes lit up with greed.
“And the cost per dose?”
“Roughly 10,000 ryō.
If we produce it in bulk, we can bring that down to 5,000 or 6,000 ryō,” Hikuro answered honestly.
“Excellent!
Well done—only you could pull this off!” Danzō beamed, then gritted his teeth as he thought of another.
“That bastard Orochimaru—always swindling me out of funds, delivering nothing worth a fraction of what you’ve achieved!”
To Danzō, Hikuro was straightforward, reliable, willing to show his hand—and completely uninterested in the Hokage’s seat.
As one of his oldest confidants, Hikuro had earned his full trust.
Of course, if Hikuro lacked strength, he would have been fitted with the Cursed Tongue Eradication Technique—a leash for his loyalty.
But with power like his, no chains were needed.
Danzō held the crystal-clear vial of body enhancement serum, his face glowing with delight.
Then—
Whoosh!
A shadow materialized before them as if from thin air.
The ANBU bowed low, his tone grave.
“Lord Hikuro, Lord Danzō—the Hokage requests your presence immediately.”
His respect for Hikuro was absolute.
He knew well that the weapons, prosthetics, and implants Hikuro had developed had given countless war-wounded shinobi back their livelihoods, their families, and their purpose.
They had helped carry Konoha to victory in the Third Great Ninja War.
This man had never stepped onto a battlefield, yet he fought in the shadows just as bravely—upholding Konoha’s peace.
He was a hero worthy of all honor.
Danzō stormed forward, seething with anger at the Third Hokage’s interference.
It looks like I’ll probably have to pull out my usual routine of “you regret it, I exploit it” to get through this.
Hikuro glanced sideways at the ANBU member on the floor, frowned slightly, then spoke slowly: “I understand.”
Secretly, he wondered what the old man Hiruzen could possibly want from him this time.
Compared to Danzō—who was simple-minded, generous with money, and easy to manipulate—he found Hiruzen Sarutobi far more troublesome.
Hiruzen was shrewd and cunning, always dangling empty promises to get Hikuro to work for free.
As a scientist dedicated to research, Hikuro naturally wanted a steady flow of funding to support his experiments.
But the Third Hokage was notoriously stingy; he often intercepted funds that Danzō allocated for Hikuro, only to claim the results as his own.
Danzō, on the other hand, might be short-sighted, biased, stubborn, and unrealistic—his methods were rough, and he frequently abandoned people once they had served their purpose.
If Hikuro didn’t possess overwhelming strength, he would long ago have been forced to bear the Cursed Tongue Eradication Technique.
Yet one thing was certain: Danzō truly did not hold back when it came to spending money.
The Shimura clan had suffered terribly for it; they gained little benefit from following him, while their shinobi and their entire fortune were all sacrificed to the cause of Root.
Still, Danzō almost always agreed to whatever Hikuro asked for.
Hikuro could easily wheedle enough funding, test subjects, and even secret techniques and research materials out of him.
In fact, most of the sealing arts and curse mark knowledge Hikuro now possessed had been provided by Danzō as payment.
Hiruzen Sarutobi was a completely different story.
He seemed warm and approachable, polite to everyone, far-sighted, and principled—never one to discard others after using them.
But he had one flaw that drove Hikuro up the wall: he loved getting things for free.
This reminded Hikuro of his past life, working in a lab.
Back then, his boss would only talk about ideals and ambition, never mentioning wages.
In the end, he earned barely five or six thousand yuan a month… and eventually dropped dead from overwork right there in the laboratory.
Hiruzen was exactly the same.
He would constantly brainwash Hikuro, preaching the Will of Fire and urging him to dedicate himself selflessly to Konoha.
But when it came time to discuss actual compensation?
Not a single coin would leave his pocket—only empty words of praise.
The village’s budget was always calculated down to the last sen, tight-fisted and full of restrictions.
That might be acceptable for native Konoha shinobi raised entirely on the Will of Fire, but Hikuro?
In his previous life, he had literally worked himself to death in a lab.
There was no way he would fall for that again.
Once the two had left, deep underground—one thousand meters beneath the secret base—lay a dim, hidden chamber.
In the center of the room stood a massive glass vat, filled with murky green liquid.
Bubbles rose slowly, making a soft glug-glug sound.
A red-haired woman forced her eyes open, stared at the young boy floating in the vat before her, and then fell back under the influence of genjutsu.
The sorrow in her gaze lingered long after.