The Fujiwara Family

“This... is, Orochimaru... Lord Orochimaru.” Orochimaru paused slightly upon hearing this, then the corners of his mouth curled up into a meaningful smile.

Uchiha Jinso’s reaction was rather odd. With the keen observation granted by his Sharingan, could he really have failed to notice the ninja standing beside the clan leader right away? Or perhaps he did not recognize the uniquely striking appearance of Orochimaru?

By all reasonable logic, both possibilities could be dismissed. Uchiha Jinso had indeed recognized Orochimaru, and, considering the recent troubles facing his clan, had immediately understood the significance of Orochimaru standing alongside the clan leader: the leader intended to rely on Orochimaru’s renown and power.

Jinso, sharp-minded and deserving of the title ‘clever,’ nevertheless acted in an unexpected manner. He did not promptly bow respectfully to the one his clan sought for salvation, nor did he display excessive gratitude after receiving aid; instead, his gaze shifted toward the omnipotent clan leader.

Why was that? Clearly, he did not regard accepting Orochimaru’s help as an honor.

Orochimaru licked his lips, finding the situation amusing. Clever, arrogant, stubborn—these were the first impressions Uchiha Jinso left upon him.

Perhaps it was true that birds of a feather flock together, for every member of the security squad before him behaved and expressed themselves much like Jinso—seven or eight parts alike.

The spirit of youth!

Fugaku’s expression darkened. Orochimaru noticed it, but as clan leader, Fugaku saw it even more clearly. Seeing Jinso’s hesitation, he rebuked him, “Do as Lord Orochimaru says—move quickly.”

“Yes!” Jinso replied, then withdrew, disappearing with the security squad.

“Clan Leader Fugaku, your clansmen truly broaden my horizons.” Orochimaru chuckled, striving to keep his tone free of mockery. “With people of such temperament in your clan, your options are limited.”

Upon hearing this, Fugaku’s expression grew gloomier still.

“They may act on emotion, but you are the clan leader. Must you wait until the situation becomes irreversibly dire before you regret it?” Orochimaru abandoned his usual cold sneer, his voice now almost persuasive. “Uchiha must endure this ordeal. Be aware—the true culprit still remains at large. Do you wish to see the blame placed on Uchiha every time the village is attacked?”

“The village too has its limits to endurance. Exceed them, and there will be an eruption. You know well what consequences that would bring.”

Fugaku kept his head bowed, silent, his face shifting through a range of emotions.

“Or perhaps you wish to lead Uchiha in rebellion, claiming authority for yourself?”

“Enough, you need say no more. This matter... I agree.” Fugaku lifted his head, clenching his teeth, every word forced from his throat.

At this moment, Fugaku was consumed by hate—he hated that, years ago, Madara had led the tailed beasts in attacking the village, sowing discord between Uchiha and the rest. He hated the current mastermind even more, acting brazenly, heedless of the clansmen within the village.

“Very well, let us discuss the details further.”

…

Within the Uchiha compound.

Beneath the shade of the trees, Itachi, having just finished lunch, held the newborn Sasuke in his arms, feeding him milk.

Watching Sasuke enthusiastically suck from the bottle, Itachi could not help but smile. He relished his little brother’s dependence and affection.

“Itachi-kun…” A girl with a ponytail ran toward him from afar, waving as she approached.

“Izumi.” Itachi nodded to her and continued to focus on Sasuke’s feeding.

Uchiha Izumi was the girl he had encountered on the night of the Nine-Tails attack; he had happened to save her life, and since then, Izumi often sought him out for conversation.

“Ah, little Sasuke is drinking milk—how adorable.” Izumi bent down, bringing her face close. “May I hold him?”

Itachi refused without hesitation. “No, you’ll make him cry—just like last time.”

Izumi remembered being rebuffed before, her face scrunching in annoyance. “Come on, that was an accident! I’ll be careful this time, really careful, since he’s focused on the milk.”

As she spoke, she reached out, slowly taking Sasuke from Itachi’s hands.

As expected, Sasuke, with innate acuity, sensed the girl’s ulterior motive and began to struggle and cry.

Itachi quickly took Sasuke back, soothing him effortlessly.

Izumi, rejected yet again, fell into existential doubt—her ponytail ceased to swing.

“…”

“That’s Father.” Catching a glimpse of a figure from the corner of his eye, Itachi’s heart stirred and he ran toward that direction.

Soon, he arrived near Fugaku and could make out the figure standing beside his father. Instinctively, he sensed danger from this man and stopped in his tracks.

However, as if noticing them, the two men walked over.

The presence of the children lightened the heavy atmosphere. Orochimaru looked Itachi up and down, a thought stirring in his mind. “Is this your son? Care to introduce him?”

At the mention of his son, Fugaku’s tense face relaxed slightly, pride coloring his tone. “He is my eldest, Itachi. The little one is Sasuke. Itachi, this is Lord Orochimaru.”

“Yes, Father.” Itachi, holding Sasuke, bowed slightly. “Lord Orochimaru.”

“Itachi?”

Orochimaru murmured the name. For some reason, he sensed a hint of hostility from it. Perhaps it was because, in nature, weasels are natural enemies of snakes.

‘Natural enemy.’

The phrase flashed through his mind, and Orochimaru couldn’t keep from chuckling.

“Lord Orochimaru?” Fugaku, puzzled, wondered why he was laughing.

“No, nothing.” Orochimaru shook his head, his gaze drawn to the composed aura Itachi exuded, especially those serene eyes—the more he looked, the more he liked.

Turning to Fugaku, Orochimaru asked, “Itachi hasn’t started at the ninja academy yet?”

Fugaku nodded. Itachi was six this year and would begin with the next intake.

“I can see it—he’s a genius.” Orochimaru spoke plainly. “I wish to take him as my apprentice. What do you think?”

“This…” Fugaku’s expression shifted, uncertain how to respond.

Objectively, the Legendary Three Nin are the apex of shinobi; having one as a teacher would be the finest education possible. Yet Orochimaru’s reputation was far from sterling.

“Clan Leader Fugaku, does Uchiha have the privilege to disdain me here in Konoha?” Orochimaru immediately saw through Fugaku’s hesitation and snorted with displeasure.

But unwilling to rebuke him in front of the children, Orochimaru continued coolly, “I wish to take Itachi as my apprentice, partly for his talent, but also…”

He paused, “Jiraiya’s students have become Hokage. If I cannot achieve the same, would that not mean he surpasses me?”

“Hokage?!”

Fugaku’s heart skipped a beat at the word, his emotions surging.

Indeed, Orochimaru’s fame may be tarnished, but he was still the Third’s disciple—of the Hokage’s lineage.

Suppressing his excitement, Fugaku smiled, “Lord Orochimaru, you flatter us. I was merely wondering if Itachi met the standard.”

He signaled Itachi with a glance.

Itachi bowed respectfully, “Greetings, Master Orochimaru.”