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Orochimaru sat quietly in his lab, the soft hum of equipment and the steady bubbling of vials filling the air. His hands moved with calculated precision, meticulously working on cultivating the First Hokage's cells, each step a masterpiece of scientific genius. Yet, despite his focus on the experiment, his thoughts drifted elsewhere—toward Danzo.

Danzo, in his predictable arrogance, had made a grave mistake. Six Root agents, embedded in the Chunin Exams under false identities, now dead. No survivors. All because Danzo, in his petty anger, had sent them after a genin—Haruto—simply because of an essay that had ruined years of careful manipulation.

Orochimaru smirked. Danzo's plan had backfired spectacularly. Aika, one of Danzo's best upcoming operatives, was nothing but ashes now, thanks to a poorly placed explosive tag. The rest of the team? Killed, left with no one to report back. The Leaf's ANBU were now investigating the deaths, digging into the pasts of the agents, raising suspicions Danzo could no longer contain. It was a mess—one that only highlighted Danzo's reckless decisions.

How petty, Orochimaru mused. The essay Haruto had written had ignited a fire among the Uchiha, fanning the flames of discontent, and Danzo's inability to contain the situation had now left him vulnerable. Vulnerable enough for Orochimaru to gain leverage. Blackmail, he thought with satisfaction, such a useful tool.

But his thoughts didn't linger long on Danzo. Orochimaru's curiosity was piqued by something else—the very genin Danzo had foolishly tried to eliminate.

He reached for the dossier on his desk, flipping it open to reveal the details of Haruto. A young genin, yet so promising. Fuinjutsu, medical ninjutsu, a talent for lightning release—there was potential there. Orochimaru's fingers traced the edges of the file as he absorbed the information. Interesting.

The thought briefly took Orochimaru to his visit with Tsunade. He had gone to her under the guise of discussing Haruto, curious to learn more about the genin under her wing. But as soon as they met, he saw it—the distance in her eyes, the unspoken wall between them. It was as if every glance she gave him was colored by memories of a time they could never reclaim.

Nawaki. Orochimaru pushed the name from his mind, though the weight of it lingered in the air between them. It wasn't something they spoke about, not directly, but it haunted every conversation they had, a reminder of the gap that had formed between them.

He had been the boys Jonin sensi, Nawaki had run into an explosive trap, his body unrecognizable.

As Orochimaru had looked at Tsunade, he had seen it—the way her gaze shifted, that lingering sense of blame. She hadn't needed to say anything. Every time she saw him, it was as if she was staring at a ghost from her past, a constant reminder of what had been lost.

But why should it matter? Orochimaru leaned back in his chair, shrugging off the thought. He had more pressing matters to attend to, more important goals. Let Tsunade hold onto her protege. He had no need to confront the past, not now. Besides, Haruto could wait. There would be a time for him, eventually. But for now, Orochimaru had enough on his plate.

And with the blackmail he now held over Danzo, the future was already beginning to shape in Orochimaru's favor. The grin that stretched across his face was cold, calculating. Danzo would pay for his missteps—in due time.

For now, Orochimaru returned to his work, his fingers steady as he adjusted the vials of cells beside him. There was much to be done, and the pieces were falling into place. Let Danzo scramble to cover his tracks—Orochimaru would wait, as he always did, until the perfect moment arrived.