100 He Doesn't Deserve

The operation was quick and decisive. Within seconds, the eye transplant was complete, and Uchiha Shinjou’s Mangekyō Sharingan had a new owner.

Orochimaru blinked, and the sense of a foreign object in his socket vanished at once. “Tch, tch... A dōjutsu bloodline is such a convenient power, isn’t it?”

He wiped away the discharge at the corner of his eyes and, with keen interest, began testing the Mangekyō’s abilities. Observation, replication, hypnosis—aside from the basic capabilities of the Sharingan being stronger, exactly as he had expected, the Mangekyō needed no extra trigger.

Skipping the usual awakening procedure, he could, like condensing chakra in a normal point, draw directly on both eyes’ ocular reserves and use it at once.

In other words, if he wished, he could claim these eyes for himself with no bodily side effects.

Nearby, Kabuto Yakushi placed the removed eyes into a small nourishment cartridge. As he watched, he unconsciously adjusted his spectacles.

Orochimaru shot him a slanting look and said with a half-laugh, “What is it—afraid I’ll seize Uchiha Shinjou’s eyes?”

With those blood-red eyes, Orochimaru could sense even subtle emotional shifts. It was hard to hide anything, and Kabuto had never been a novice to sensory arts.

Under that gaze, Kabuto did not look away. His expression remained flat as he replied, “For eyes to become the eyes of Lord Orochimaru, Uchiha Shinjou ought to feel honored.”

“But perhaps it would be better if he did not,” Orochimaru said with an ambiguous smile. “It seems you two have gotten along quite well.”

Seeing Kabuto about to add something, Orochimaru tapped his own brow and said, “Compared with a normal Sharingan, these eyes are sharper. They not only read what lies on the surface, they read emotions too.”

“You were once an excellent spy,” he went on, “but don’t place too much trust in your mask. The shinobi world is wide enough.”

Kabuto, unable to withstand that stare, turned his head slightly; his expression was stiff.

It was not fear of exposing himself before Orochimaru, however, that had made him do that.

If the Mangekyō could sense emotion, then its previous owner, Uchiha Shinjou—well—

“Kabuto, you should know that although I have made use of you, I have no objection to your having one more place to stand.”

Orochimaru let the teasing leave his face and said softly, “Like Yamato, you can begin another life if you wish.”

“That is unnecessary,” Kabuto said, lifting his head. A smile appeared—not his usual artificial one, but one laced with self-mockery and bitterness. “I do not deserve it.”

In the end, Lord Nono U was dead, and drenched in blood. How could he stand upon the corpse of the one who had helped him, chasing after so-called … happiness?

So Kabuto did not mind being used by Orochimaru. He had willingly set himself upon a life of emptiness.
It was, in fact, a kind of punishment.

“All right,” Orochimaru gave him a sidelong glance, then turned away and continued his tests, speaking to the Lamp Deity on his back as he worked. “At this level, can you duplicate a Mangekyō?”

The Lamp Deity leaned forward, a clear smile on its face. “The recording is nearly complete. As long as your body can bear it, I can help you awaken the Mangekyō whenever you want.”

Orochimaru laughed, eyes bright with excitement. “Good.”

Indeed, he had no need to covet Uchiha Shinjou’s eyes. With the Lamp Deity’s help, he could obtain his own ocular bloodline.

In truth, a full dōjutsu bloodline limit is no more than a product of Yang Release, the physical force, joined to a certain degree with Yin Release, the spiritual force. Every shinobi possesses both; Orochimaru is no exception.

The only difficulty was that ordinary shinobi lack sufficient strength in both. Even though both the Senju and the Uchiha clans have bloodline advantages, they each carry only one.

Yet that barrier, as vast as a ravine, became no challenge at all once Orochimaru completed the perfect fusion of the First Cells and restored his soul from the Pure Land.

“Actually, in my opinion, you should also record the Sharingan states from one tomoe to three tomoe,” the Lamp Deity said with a hint of mischief. “Turning an eye straight into a Mangekyō is too abrupt. With those stages as a bridge, the cost of awakening it will be much smaller—perhaps even none.”

Orochimaru gave the Lamp Deity a sidelong glance and supplied what it had left unsaid. “And recording the transition from one-tomoe Sharingan to Mangekyō will be of great benefit to your future hosts, won’t it?”

The Lamp Deity did not deny it; it nodded as if the matter were obvious. “Naturally.”

Though he already knew that, Orochimaru still had not fully adjusted to the Lamp Deity’s shamelessness. Especially after he had labored to create something new, and that thing could later be used directly by its future hosts, his irritation only deepened.

Yet from another angle, judging from the Lamp Deity’s expression, once it grows in depth it will undoubtedly be capable of far more tricks than now. Whether its future host will profit or be taken advantage of is impossible to tell.

Damn... regardless, the one who profits in the end is that Lamp Deity, that conniving creature.

Orochimaru realized the truth once more.

Still, what needed to be done had to be done; the Lamp Deity’s advice was genuinely useful. A detonation seal to kill a mosquito, a butchering blade for an ox to slaughter a pig—wasteful in appearance, and excessive, yes, but for the user it was undeniably easy.

Why did the Uchiha go mad? Was it not because their physical frame could not bear the weight of their spiritual power, like a little horse pulling a heavy cart?

He had learned from the precedent. He would not repeat the same mistake.

After a while, Kabuto Yakushi returned the Mangekyō to Uchiha Shinjou and injected him with an antidote.

Soon, Shinjou stirred and slowly woke, pushing himself upright and looking with confusion at the two men in the laboratory.

“Lord Orochimaru, is it over? What comes next in testing?”

“There is nothing further. The Mangekyō testing is complete.”

Orochimaru pointed to his temple and smiled. “I have already done the detailed testing for you.”

Shinjou blinked, then stared for a few seconds before understanding what that “for you” meant. A strange expression crossed his face.

Honestly, as a research-minded shinobi, there is no better data than a scientist experiencing the test firsthand.

Still, seeing his own eyes treated like objects one could plug in or pull out at will, Uchiha Shinjou felt an odd unease.

That, more than anything, was why another person would have turned hostile.

And their eye-swapping technique had been so refined—he had not noticed it happen.

Noting the awkward look on Shinjou’s face, Orochimaru let out a brief grin, though his expression was far more serious.

“Compared with the Sharingan, your eye is already a mature dōjutsu bloodline.”

“It is a good thing, but it also means your eyes no longer have the same protections.”

Previously, when I tested your ocular ability, I did not use any special methods—quite the opposite, I used nothing at all.

“That means any ordinary jōnin, even a Kage-ranked shinobi, can use your eyes with no barrier at all.”

Orochimaru patted Shinjou on the shoulder and smiled. “Like the Hyuga clan’s Byakugan, you may well face this kind of greed in the future.”