Malphegor
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HSU: Ch. 193
🕑 Added 2025-02-11 22:59:42 +0000 UTCThe power of senjutsu was a blind spot in the Uchiha ninjutsu system.
The curse seal, however, was a shortcut independently developed by Orochimaru.
Even for Masashi, who had already mastered Sage Mode, this technique was highly beneficial.
In the original timeline, this curse seal greatly contributed to Orochimaru's immortality.
He was indeed a genius, in every sense of the word.
"Curse Seal?" Orochimaru didn't agree immediately. Instead, he recalled the entire process of his research in his mind. "How did you find out about it?"
"We have some intelligence capabilities." Masashi replied, "Otherwise, we'd be dead by now."
Frankly, in the original timeline, the Uchiha clan's intelligence operations were truly asymmetric.
Outside of Konoha, their safe houses were everywhere, and their intelligence network was strong.
But inside Konoha? They were practically brain-dead.
Orochimaru thought for a moment. He had some doubts, but considering the Uchiha clan's prestigious history, it wasn't entirely unreasonable for them to have such intelligence capabilities.
Perhaps they had been hiding their true strength all along. That would explain how things turned around so suddenly after Masashi appeared.
And throughout this process, the entire Uchiha clan had been fully cooperating with him.
The more Orochimaru thought about it, the more it made sense. He decided to strengthen his security measures in the future to prevent information leaks.
"Since you already know, that makes things easier." Orochimaru said generously, "Since the Uchiha clan is interested, I'm happy to share. However, this technique is still incomplete, and just having the equipment may not be enough."
"I'm not greedy, but I lack experimental materials. I hope to use the Uchiha clan's connections to obtain supplies."
"What kind of supplies?"
"Medicine, of course." Orochimaru said. "I don't need finished products—just raw materials."
"That's easy." Masashi agreed immediately. "No problem at all."
"Then we have a deal." Orochimaru said. "Next time you come, I'll give you a list. Don't worry, I won't shortchange you on money. But my research speed depends on how quickly I get the materials."
"The supplies won't be an issue, but I want to check on your progress once a month. How about that?"
"No problem. I'll be here, so you can come anytime." Orochimaru agreed without hesitation.
He acknowledged Masashi's strength, but when it came to research, he doubted Masashi would understand much.
Not that it mattered. Funding worked like that.
Investors loved seeing progress, even when they didn't understand a thing.
Danzō was the same. He had launched numerous projects back in the day and had a blast doing so.
Judging from Masashi's attitude, he wouldn't help with human test subjects or provide direct funding. However, improving his access to equipment and medicine would still reduce costs significantly.
Besides, for the early and middle stages of the project, human transplants weren't necessary.
Later on, volunteer subordinates could take care of that part.
The Land of Rice Fields was still quite remote, making certain resources difficult to obtain and expensive.
But compared to other locations, it was the best place for him to establish his organization.
Orochimaru had already planned to first assimilate the various small ninja groups in the Land of Rice Fields. That way, Oto would have some scale and start looking like an actual ninja village.
Next, he needed to create a distinct ninjutsu system. With that in place, Oto would look much more legitimate.
His conversation with Masashi had gone smoothly. Orochimaru even decided to leave his beloved lab for a bit and personally escort Masashi to the exit.
As for the time Masashi helped Minato track him down? He didn't care anymore, because he had a magnanimous heart!
As they left the lab, Masashi was surprised that Orochimaru was seeing him off in person.
It only confirmed what he had already suspected—the Sannin was just pure in his own way. His unpredictability only surfaced when he acted as a boss out of personal interest.
As for experimenting on humans? He probably viewed it as a normal academic practice.
A textbook example of "art" over "ethics."
"Orochimaru, if you become too obsessed with 'art,' you might lose sight of your true goal." As they walked down the corridor, he commented.
"In order to achieve my goals, a complete set of techniques is indispensable." Orochimaru glanced at him. "Masashi, you seem quite confident in my ability to complete the curse seal. Is that the confidence of a Sage?"
No, I just read the manga.
"I trust in your abilities." Masashi replied. "In other matters, I don't believe a word you say. But when it comes to research, I know you take it seriously." After all, research data doesn't lie.
"Haha, you're quite interesting." Orochimaru chuckled.
This was the first time someone had trusted him in such a way.
Fine, in return for this trust, he would provide a complete set of the technique.
"We should keep in close contact." he smiled. "If the Uchiha clan need anything outside the village, Oto is happy to help. Oh, and I'll also send someone to officially establish an alliance between Oto and Konoha."
"Of course." Masashi replied. "A transaction is a transaction—doesn't matter who we place the order with."
With Black Zetsu nowhere to be found, Orochimaru was now his main subject of attention.
This guy always had surprises up his sleeve.
In a way, the Fourth Great Ninja War in the original timeline—aside from the major bosses and protagonists—was essentially a battle between Tobirama, representing the old era, and Orochimaru, representing the new era.
The most eye-catching techniques? All their doing.
Orochimaru had many reasons for participating in the war, but Masashi only believed one—world destruction would interfere with his research.
As they reached the exit, he extended his hand toward the Sannin.
Orochimaru looked at the gesture.
"Masashi, you do realize that everyone knows you can use the Flying Thunder God, right?"
"Orochimaru, we're friends now." Masashi frowned. "Shouldn't we shake hands to celebrate our partnership?"
"If you didn't know the Flying Thunder God, I'd have no problem giving you a hug."
This shinobi world is truly cold. The trust between people is so fragile! Regretfully, Masashi secretly dispersed the chakra in his body.
"What a pity. But there's always tomorrow. One day, you'll realize I'm actually a good person."
"I find that very regrettable too, Masashi." Orochimaru smiled. "But you're simply too dangerous."
Actually, he had already completed the first version of the curse seal, and his first test subject had been himself.
At such close range, he could clearly sense the chakra fluctuation.
"Well then, Orochimaru, I'll take my leave."
"I won't see you off."
---
The remaining days of Year 54 passed peacefully.
Within the village, the grandest event was likely the birthday banquet of the Hyūga clan's main family princess, Hinata.
However, in this timeline, without the meddling of the Kumo ninjas, many people attended the celebration.
The allied clans—Uchiha, Inuzuka, and Aburame—were a given, but even the Sarutobi, Nara, Yamanaka, and Akimichi clans sent representatives to offer their congratulations.
Minato couldn't attend due to work, but his wife came, accompanied by a few Uzumaki survivors.
Hinata had a wonderful birthday. To the little girl, many kind and respected adults came to celebrate her, bringing numerous gifts, making her incredibly happy.
The adults she saw as kind and friendly also seemed to get along well with each other.
Outside the village, the joint Chūnin Exams hosted by Kiri proceeded as scheduled, led by a Sarutobi jōnin.
In this exam, Itachi cleared every challenge without suspense, becoming the most outstanding participant of the year.
Even though his Sharingan had yet to awaken, he breezed through the exams with his clan's signature fire jutsu and shuriken techniques.
And then, he received a pile of love letters in Kiri.
Of course, those meant nothing—if he ever considered staying in Kiri, Fugaku would probably activate Susanoo and storm the village in a rage.
Oh, and one other very important thing happened.
Sasuke secretly practiced his father's calligraphy, only to be discovered by Mikoto.
That day at the Fugaku household… was rough. Really rough.
According to Hikari and Haku, Konoha's current Advisor was seen the next day with dark circles under his eyes, covering his face whenever he met someone.
As for Sasuke, his backside seemed noticeably swollen—he didn't even wrestle with Naruto that day. Not because he didn't want to, but because every touch made him yelp in pain.
A short-lived surge of Fugaku's counterfeit calligraphy in the black market also vanished as a result.
The only one disappointed was Tetsuka, while Masashi thought he hadn't been punished enough.
And so, the days passed.
Masashi officially settled into his routine—daily training, mentoring a few younger ones, occasional trips outside the village, and, of course, the inevitable mid-month meetings at the Hokage's office.
By Year 56, he sponsored Haku's enrollment into the Ninja Academy.
This marked Haku as a true Konoha shinobi.
Joining the same year was Karin.
The current Academy was far more developed than in its early days, even surpassing its state under the Third Hokage. Every major ninja clan sent their children there without exception.
The difference between clan and non-clan children in today's Konoha was only in the quality of their home training.
Thanks to the reforms during the Third Hokage's era, the Academy's curriculum had become highly effective—after attending, a student's aptitude and future career path were practically set.
This saved the clans from investing excessive resources in training and selection.
It also benefited the Hokage's office, allowing centralized record-keeping while spreading the Will of Fire.
In recent years, Konoha's power structure among the ninja clans had shifted.
The Shimura clan had officially disbanded, while the Uzumaki clan was restored, with Kushina as its undisputed leader.
The nine great clans had now divided into three factions.
The newly revived Uzumaki clan aligned itself with the Fourth Hokage, forming a new Hokage faction.
The Sarutobi, Nara, Yamanaka, and Akimichi clans maintained their alliance, though leadership had shifted to the Nara clan.
Meanwhile, the Uchiha, Hyūga, Inuzuka, and Aburame clans formed their own faction, centered around the Police Force.
In the same year, another seemingly ordinary yet personally significant event occurred for Masashi.
The day Hinata's younger sister, Hanabi, was born, Shijime passed away.
According to the Hyūga clan, she had participated in both the First and Second Great Ninja Wars as a jōnin, accumulating many hidden injuries that eventually took a toll on her health.
For a ninja, she wasn't exceptionally old at her passing, but it wasn't considered premature either.
Many ninjas suffer early deaths from accumulated injuries—several techniques had even been classified as forbidden because of this.
For Masashi, this meant that everyone from his life as Muzo, those he once had close relationships with, was now truly gone.
As Muzo, he had seen countless farewells.
In this life, he knew them, but they didn't know him.
He never intended to rekindle past bonds—the old him was dead. He was now Masashi.
At the start of this life, some of his old friends and subordinates were still alive. But by the time he was ten, most had passed away.
Life and death follow nature's course—it couldn't be avoided.
That night, he went to a bar alone, ordered a pot of sake, and raised a silent toast to the Hokage Rock outside the window.
A drink for every old friend.
Everything was in the alcohol.
Even for Danzō, he offered a cup. They stood on different sides in this life—what a pity.
Memories flooded his mind—vast battlefields, bloodshed, and, in the end... emptiness.
That night, he didn't go anywhere else. He quietly went home, took a bath, and went to sleep.
---
The next morning, he moved forward as usual.
Interestingly, neither Pakura nor Hikari noticed anything unusual. Among everyone, only Tetsuka stubbornly insisted that he wasn't in a good mood.
That night, he dragged Masashi out for another drink, practically pulling him by the sleeve.
"Come on, you're not fooling anyone," he said as they entered the same bar from the night before. "I saw that look in your eyes this morning, even now I can see it."
"What look?" Masashi settled into his seat, noting it was the same spot he'd occupied yesterday.
"That distant one. Like you're seeing ghosts." Tetsuka waved down the bartender. "Oi! Two bottles of your best sake!"
"One," Masashi corrected. "I'm not in the mood."
"See? That's exactly what I mean." Tetsuka leaned forward, his usually carefree expression replaced with concern. "Talk to me. We're friends, aren't we?"
The sake arrived, and he poured for both of them. Masashi stared at his reflection in the cup before taking a small sip.
"Nothing special. Just thinking about peace."
"Peace?" Tetsuka raised an eyebrow.
"How many friends have you lost, Tetsuka?"
"Too many." Tetsuka's grip on his cup tightened.
"Peace comes at a price. Someone always pays it." Masashi's eyes drifted to the window, where the Hokage Rock was barely visible in the darkness. "Sometimes I wonder if those we lost would recognize the village they died for."
"They would." Tetsuka's voice was unusually firm. He poured himself another cup. "They'd be proud. We're building what they fought for."
Three cups later, his eyes were getting misty. "You know what's funny? During the war, we thought peace would be boring. But here we are, training the next generation, protecting the village..." He laughed, but it was hollow. "I miss them. The ones who never saw this."
By the time the second bottle arrived—ordered by Tetsuka despite Masashi's protests—the usually cheerful Uchiha was deep in his cups, recounting war stories with increasingly slurred speech.
"Remember that mission in... in..." he swayed slightly. "The one where... where did all my sake go?"
"Come on, hero," Masashi sighed, throwing Tetsuka's arm over his shoulder. "Time to go home."
The walk to the Uchiha district was mercifully short. Tetsuka's father was still awake, looking unsurprised at the sight of his son's condition.
"Ah, Masashi," the older Uchiha smiled warmly, helping move Tetsuka to a nearby couch. "Please, join me for some tea. It's the least I can offer."
The tea was served in the traditional style, steam rising gently from ceramic cups. Tetsuka's snores provided a steady background sound.
"He gets it from his mother, you know," Tetsuka's father said, glancing at his sleeping son. "That inability to leave a troubled friend alone. That and his poor tolerance for sake." He turned back to Masashi, his expression growing serious. "You're good for him. He needs friends who can keep him grounded."
"He's more likely to get himself into trouble than cause any," Masashi replied diplomatically.
The older man chuckled. "That's what worries me. He charges headfirst into everything—friendship, fights, life itself. One of these days, that straightforward nature of his..." He sighed, looking older for a moment. "Well, just keep an eye on him when you can. He respects you."
Their conversation meandered through various topics—village politics, the new training programs, the changing times. By the time Masashi finally excused himself, the clock showed nearly eleven.
What a talker. No wonder Tetsuka turned out this way. Stepping into the cool night air, he couldn't help but smile bitterly at the irony of it all.
In his life as Muzo, he spent decades fighting the Uchiha clan. Now here he was, sharing drinks and forming bonds with them. The memory of Tetsuka's earnest concern, his father's warm hospitality—it was a far cry from the battlefields of his previous existence.
Truly, life was unpredictable.
This year, he turned twenty-three.
The timeline stretched before him like a well-worn map: next year, Sasuke and Naruto would enter the academy.
In six years, they would graduate. This time around, there would be no "stolen" forbidden scroll incident—he'd make sure of that.
Still, some things were bound to happen. Seven years, he thought, looking up at the stars.
