That day came even faster than Amanojaku had imagined.
Yakushi Kabuto had prepared the ritual and medicine for changing bodies, and Orochimaru seized [Sasuke] with lightning speed before the reincarnation ritual was about to unfold.
Amanojaku’s backup plan hadn’t yet been deployed—or rather, it had already been used, but simply hadn’t taken effect. In the face of absolute, hard strength, any amount of plotting and scheming was nothing more than a paper tiger. This crafty man Orochimaru was actually far more treacherous and terrifying than he had imagined.
A white-scaled giant snake suddenly crawled out from the mouth of Orochimaru’s original vessel, its scarlet snake tongue flickering at a rapid frequency in the air, coming close to licking [Sasuke]’s fair, pale face.
The youth merely furrowed the tips of his eyebrows, making no struggle whatsoever. It was just that those pitch-black, clean eyes gazed at Amanojaku with a lingering, desolate sorrow all the while, his long, thick eyelashes trembling twice.
He clearly didn’t make any other expression, yet Amanojaku simply felt that he had suffered the greatest grievance in the world.
[Sasuke]’s soul was about to be murdered by Orochimaru, and his vessel was going to be seized as well. From then on, he would never again be able to see this peerless youth, never again see the unyielding, swaggering spirit that belonged exclusively to him.
Amanojaku’s world would once more plunge back into a pure white nightmare, with no one possessing the ability to bring back those vibrant, breathtaking colors for him.
——This was a result he absolutely would not allow!
“Amanojaku, you’d better not make any rash moves,” Yakushi Kabuto stared at him with a half-smile, subduing him together with Orochimaru just before he could make a move.
Orochimaru had lived for many years and learned a mountain of bizarre jutsu. Even if his taijutsu fell short of Amanojaku’s, and the jutsu he could weave with both hands had been forcibly stripped away, pinning Amanojaku to the wall was still nothing more than a piece of cake for him.
“We’ve never underestimated you for a moment, Amanojaku-kun.”
Bizarre, pitch-black chakra rods pierced through both arms and legs, firmly nailing Amanojaku’s body against the cold stone wall. The rod shafts stabbed into flesh and bone, with their tips deeply embedded into the rock face. The skin and flesh were forcefully torn apart, leaving him unable to struggle by even a fraction.
The intense pain pierced straight to his heart and marrow, assaulting Amanojaku’s consciousness in wave after wave. Every single cell beneath his skin was wailing, yet such pain was unexpectedly not something he cared to keep on his mind.
Amanojaku possessed a powerful will to resist, but lacked the strength to deal with Orochimaru.
He thought, so this was the very essence Sasuke-sama had warned him about earlier? Every word and phrase was tempered with blood and tears as a lesson; only when it was carved into his heart did he know what it meant to experience heart-rending agony.
He looked at the lingering sorrow and anguish within those black pupils, watching them continuously, on and on.
A voice in the depths of his heart coldly told him: Amanojaku, you are far too weak. This helpless appearance of yours is truly ugly. If this goes on, you won’t be able to protect a single thing.
What you love will be lost, what you care about will be destroyed, and you will forever keep company with loneliness and disaster.
Every single word was like a pearl, resembling a curse that dragged his soul plunging into an endless abyss, only to be burned and devoured by karmic fire down to the bone.
He had to watch with his own eyes as [Sasuke] was devoured by Orochimaru—something he would never be able to let go of, something he would never give up on…
“No—! I… absolutely refuse to accept this—!”
The white-haired youth nailed to the wall shuddered violently and abruptly. Chakra burst forth explosively all around him, his clothing instantly ballooning and fluttering, while bulging veins coiled up his neck and arms. The meridians around his Byakugan bulged outward, and towering fury and resentment soared into the sky.
These lower lifeforms, these damn bugs…
“Even Lord Orochimaru is not allowed to touch… him!”
There was no wind, yet the white hair fluttered gently.
Yakushi Kabuto’s astonished and terrified expression was like the grotesque character of a comical mime putting on a mask, completely freezing right there on that face.
Even [Sasuke]’s pupils were trembling faintly, carrying disbelief upon his face.
Meanwhile, the white-scaled giant snake was cleanly sliced into eight segments out of thin air, each section evenly scattering onto the ground. The splashing, dripping fresh blood dyed the snake cave crimson, and the reflections in everyone’s pupils were entirely filled with the color of blood.
Yet Amanojaku remained indifferent to their terror. Suspended in mid-air, he smiled and uttered a strange remark: “I heard it.”
However, the other two remained unmoved; even their fluctuating emotions were smoothed away by an invisible, massive hand.
[Sasuke]’s pair of pitch-black pupils also recovered their previous detachment, expressionless just like Yakushi Kabuto beside him, resembling puppets being manipulated by someone.
Then, everything turned into shattered flakes of light, annihilating and collapsing.
“Amanojaku, can’t he wake up yet?” The crisp, clean youthful voice sounded like cold stones colliding, with a wisp of an extremely faint nasal tone wrapped around the tail end.
“I’ve waited long enough.”
Hidden beneath the faint impatience was a trace of worry that was poorly expressed.
“Perhaps it requires Tsunade stepping in to lend a hand for him to recover his sanity.” Another feminine, hoarse voice carried some banter.
Orochimaru’s attitude toward his subordinates was just like using disposable materials; once used, they were discarded without a shred of worry or care.
Not without regret, he said, “We are both Konoha rogue ninja, so there’s no way we can ask the Fifth Hokage Tsunade to help. In that case, we can only throw him into the consumables for my experiments—might as well make use of waste.”
After finally producing a managerial talent with a brain who could also generate revenue for them, sparing him from worrying about anything other than experiments and teaching Sasuke ninjutsu, he was gone just like that. He would still feel heartbroken over it.
“Wait.” Sasuke abruptly called out to stop him, his tone heavy. “Finding the Fifth isn’t entirely impossible.”
Orochimaru was all ears for details.
Sasuke’s brain worked at lightning speed, saying resolutely: “As long as you have money, you can commission the Fifth, right? So what if she’s the Hokage? Doesn’t she still have a gambling addiction? The village’s development requires money anyway, so I’m afraid she doesn’t have enough to squander.”
Orochimaru: ?
Then can my village be what you squander instead?
Once Sasuke made up his mind, he would set out to achieve his goal; not even Orochimaru could stop him.
Just as he turned around to leave, a light cough came from behind him.
Sasuke’s footsteps nailed themselves in place.
“Sasuke-sama—”
“I’m back.”
Like a warm evening breeze warmed by the spring sun, it effortlessly smoothed away the irritation in a person’s heart.
The gaze Orochimaru cast upon the two of them carried a bit of scrutiny, yet also revealed a hint of understanding.
Amidst Sasuke’s suspicious and disgusted gaze, he excused himself on the grounds of having further experiments to run, and leisurely left the room.
“How did you wake up?” Sasuke’s dark pupils shifted, his gaze landing on Amanojaku.
He had been unconscious all this while, and it looked like they were going to have to resort to some foolish tricks to snap him out of the genjutsu. He hadn’t expected him to regain consciousness on his own.
Could it be because he had mentioned money just now? Sasuke guessed.
He clearly felt Amanojaku’s snow-white pupils lock onto him, staring at him without blinking. He felt it was quite bizarre, and his hand involuntarily strayed to the hilt of the Kusanagi sword, tightening its grip slowly.
Amanojaku’s eyes crinkled as he smiled warmly and brightly: “Because I heard it.”
“I heard Sasuke-sama’s voice within the illusion, so I struggled and woke up from that nightmare-like scene.”
Sasuke paused, his hand slowly releasing the sword hilt, and asked casually: “Is that so? What did you dream of?”
Amanojaku’s voice lowered: “I dreamed that three years passed, and Lord Orochimaru was about to seize your body.”
Even upon hearing such words, Sasuke still did not change his expression. He merely curved the corner of his mouth in an ambiguous manner, then said faintly: “Is a thing like that actually a nightmare to you?”
You, who have always been utterly loyal to Orochimaru—upon learning that he can finally possess a new, perfect physical vessel and smoothly carry out everything—shouldn’t you feel joy and excitement welling up from the bottom of your heart?
Amanojaku admitted it crisply: “That’s right.”
Sasuke looked at him, his obsidian-like ink pupils carrying a bit of perplexity. He wanted to say something, then closed his mouth, and ultimately said nothing at all.
Amanojaku sat with a correct posture, both hands placed over the quilt covering his body, and shifted the topic without a change in expression: “Sasuke-sama, was it you who brought me back?”
Sasuke let out an “en” and frowned lightly: “It was a hassle, you’re quite heavy.”
Amanojaku’s smile stiffened slightly: “Thank you for the trouble, Sasuke-sama.”
Fortunately, those words weren’t spoken to a girl. The youth was good at everything, except that his speaking style was a bit too direct and never went around in circles.
Presumably, it was also because he didn’t feel there was any problem with speaking like that.
“You’re truly amazing, breaking free from the genjutsu so quickly,” Amanojaku began closed-eye wild flattery, heaping praise upon him.
Though in his heart, that was indeed what he thought.
Sasuke remained reserved: “When you experience it often enough, you become increasingly immune, and your ability to resist genjutsu increases.”
Is that so… Sounds rather hellish.
Uchiha Sasuke felt that ever since Amanojaku woke up from that genjutsu, he had undergone some changes. That probably wasn’t his illusion.
His threshold for love and hate had grown dull overnight, yet he wasn’t incapable of perceiving the changes in other people’s behavior, even the subtle ones.
It was just that he couldn’t figure out the source and reason for the change, so he decided to ask directly—
“The number of times you look at me has increased, Amanojaku,” Sasuke crossed his arms. “Was it that illusion that scared you out of your wits, making you feel like Orochimaru might grab me at any moment to swap bodies?”
Amanojaku was taken aback. He was indeed observing that fair, pretty little face more frequently than before, but not for the reason Sasuke thought; rather, he was observing the flexible deployment of his ninjutsu, especially the blue light shimmering faintly beneath his Byakugan.
That was the chakra of this world.
It came from the Divine Tree brought by Ōtsutsuki Kaguya and planted in this world, which plundered the physical energy of all living creatures across the entire planet and then converted it into a chakra fruit. After that woman swallowed the fruit, for reasons unknown, it scattered across this world.
Perhaps she had formed a connection with this world and bore descendants, which was why her descendants would also possess chakra. And her descendant happened to be a Saint Father harboring grand love, distributing chakra to the native populace…
This was a power system different from the one used by their Ōtsutsuki clan, yet it could be utilized by them and devoured by them.
Sasuke narrowed his eyes slightly, took a few steps toward him, lowered his head slightly, and stared into those white pupils—which were much deeper than before—before speaking with certainty: “Or, you’ve recovered your memories.”
This time he didn’t use an inquiring tone; when saying these words, he had a six or seven-tenths certainty of it.
Ōtsutsuki Amanojaku nodded: “Mm, I’ve remembered.”
Sasuke’s pitch-black big eyes gazed at him, and he couldn’t help speaking up: “Oh, then what kind of person were you before? Aren’t you planning to go home?”
Though dressed in plain white, this outfit could already be described as solemn and elaborate, meaning his identity was definitely not simple.
Amanojaku spoke with a heavy tone, yet as if relieved: “I’m an alien, I don’t have a home anymore.”
Sasuke: “…”