Naruto: System of Zoro

Chapter 27 - Meeting the Uchiha

"What?! Only ten Jonin?"

Despite his usual composure, Orochimaru couldn't suppress the irritation bubbling beneath his skin. The words had left his mouth before he could stop them, his voice edged with disbelief. Was Sarutobi seriously expecting him to fight an entire war with only ten Jonin?

His sharp golden eyes studied the man before him, searching for some sign that this was a cruel joke. But Hiruzen Sarutobi remained impassive, the lines on his face deepening under the weight of countless burdens. The old man was always like this—calm, firm, unwavering. It was infuriating.

Orochimaru clenched his fist, restraining the urge to lash out. He wasn't a fool. He knew resources were stretched thin, with Konoha battling on multiple fronts. But if that was the case, why was Jiraiya getting better support against Kumogakure? Why was Danzo being entrusted with Kirigakure, while he was handed this... pathetic excuse of a military force?

And then there was the matter of the Uchiha.

They were a clan of prodigies, powerful and feared, but also a ticking time bomb. Their pride and volatility made them as much of a liability as an asset. Mishandling them would be just as dangerous as fighting Iwagakure itself.

And then there was Sarutobi's role in all of this.

The moment the Hokage stepped in to reinforce them—if he even intended to—any victory they achieved would be credited to him. Orochimaru could already see it: the Third Hokage, the wise and benevolent leader, swooping in at the final moment to turn the tide, leaving nothing for his so-called successor.

For the first time, Orochimaru seriously questioned whether Sarutobi ever truly intended for him to become Hokage.

"I have no choice, Orochimaru," Sarutobi said at last, his tone carrying the weight of a decision already made. "The village's forces are stretched too thin. We cannot afford to concentrate all our strength in one place while threats loom on multiple fronts. I can only allocate ten Jonin to you. However, I will give you two thousand Chunin and Genin."

The old man paused, letting the offer sink in before delivering the final bait.

"And I promise you this—if we win this war, you will inherit the Hokage position."

Orochimaru narrowed his eyes.

There it was again. That same promise, dangled in front of him like a piece of meat before a starving beast. As if that alone would be enough to make him obey.

"Two thousand Chunin and Genin?" Orochimaru scoffed, his voice laced with disdain. "They're nowhere near as useful as ten more Jonin."

Even for someone as cunning as Sarutobi, this was an insult. He knew Orochimaru wasn't the type to be swayed by empty numbers. Raw manpower meant little when up against an army of elite shinobi.

Iwagakure had already mobilized ten thousand troops against the Raikage alone. And Konoha—wealthiest and strongest of the Five Great Nations—had an army of over twenty thousand Chunin and Genin, along with nearly three hundred Jonin. Yet, despite that, he was expected to fight Iwagakure with only ten Jonin?

Absurd.

"Enough, Orochimaru," Sarutobi's voice cut through the tension, sharper than before. "You're a shinobi of Konoha. A leader. You need to learn to handle challenges on your own."

His gaze hardened.

"The Uchiha clan alone has over a hundred Jonin and even more Chunin and Genin under them. That should be more than enough to face Iwagakure. Or do you expect me to step in first and let you handle only the scraps?"

There was a challenge in his tone now, one that sent an unpleasant chill down Orochimaru's spine.

He had known Sarutobi for decades—long enough to recognize when he was being backed into a corner. The Third had no intention of negotiating further. This was the final offer. Take it or be left with nothing.

Orochimaru stared at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

Then, at last, he straightened.

"Understood, Hokage-sama."

Not "Sensei." Not "Teacher." Just "Hokage-sama."

A deliberate choice. A silent severing of whatever remained of their old bond.

Turning sharply, he strode toward the door without another word.

Sarutobi watched him go, his expression darkening as the sound of footsteps faded.

He let out a slow breath, the scent of tobacco lingering in the air.

"Hmph… have you forgotten who gave you everything you have?"

His voice was barely above a whisper.

But Orochimaru was already gone. He could feel Orochimaru slipping further from his grasp.

---

Back Mountain Grove

"Ittoryu Iai—Shishi Sonson!"

Kazane gripped the hilt of the Kusanagi sword tightly, his stance firm as he executed a lightning-fast draw. The gleaming blade flashed through the air, slicing toward the solid iron training target before him.

A deep, metallic boom echoed through the grove. The sheer force of the strike sent the iron slab hurtling several meters into the air before it crashed heavily onto the ground, leaving a trail of dust in its wake. When the dust settled, Kazane examined the target—though it had been deeply dented, it remained uncut.

He exhaled sharply, disappointment flickering across his face.

"Hah… still not enough. I'm nowhere near the level of cutting steel."

No matter how much effort he put in, no matter how refined his technique became, he was still unable to slice through iron the way the legends spoke of. He had expected this outcome, yet the reality of it still gnawed at him.

The wind rustled through the trees, filling the grove with a rhythmic whisper. As he steadied his breathing, he suddenly felt an oppressive presence behind him.

Without turning, Kazane knew who it was.

Orochimaru had arrived.

The snake-like man stood a short distance away, his pale features shadowed under the dimming light. His usual smirk was absent, replaced by an expression dark and unreadable. His presence alone felt like a storm brewing on the horizon—something was wrong.

Kazane turned his head slightly. "What happened, Orochimaru-sensei? Did Hokage-sama summon you for something important?"

Orochimaru's golden eyes flickered with something unreadable before he finally spoke, his voice devoid of its usual amusement.

"The war is starting. Go prepare yourself."

No explanations, no details. Just a simple command.

Then, just as quickly as he had appeared, Orochimaru was gone, vanishing into the trees without another word.

Kazane remained standing there for a moment, gripping the hilt of his sword tightly.

The Third Shinobi War was finally beginning.

For years, he had prepared for this moment. He had trained relentlessly, pushing himself beyond his limits time and time again, waiting for the day he could carve his name into the battlefield. And now, that day had come.

His blood burned with anticipation.

Without hesitation, he tightened his grip on his sword and resumed his training.

---

Konoha Village – Uchiha Clan District

The Uchiha clan's district was unlike any other part of Konoha. Located on the outskirts of the village, it was vast—occupying nearly one-fifth of the entire settlement. Unlike other clans, the Uchiha lived in near isolation, their territory functioning almost like an independent village within Konoha itself.

Lining the streets were rows of refined, traditional houses, their tiled roofs and wooden exteriors meticulously maintained. The roads were clean and orderly, bustling with Uchiha clansmen going about their daily lives. They had their own restaurants, their own clothing stores, their own weapon shops. It was a self-sustaining community, separate from the rest of Konoha.

It was no wonder they looked down on outsiders.

Growing up in such an environment, isolated from the struggles of the common people, it was only natural that they developed an inherent sense of superiority.

As the descendants of the Sage of Six Paths, inheritors of the fabled "Sage's Eye," the Uchiha clan had long since built walls—both physical and ideological—between themselves and the rest of the world.

But today, those walls were being crossed.

A lone figure walked through the district, escorted by a member of the Uchiha Police Force. His pale skin, golden eyes, and long black hair made him stand out like a shadow in the daylight.

Orochimaru moved through the streets with a composed, almost lazy gait, his sharp gaze taking in his surroundings with an air of mild amusement.

"Incredible…" he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "The Uchiha truly live up to their reputation. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed such a grand district existed within Konoha."

The Uchiha escort walking beside him let out a proud laugh.

"Hahaha! Our Uchiha clan has been a dominant force in the shinobi world since the Warring States Period. It's only natural that our prosperity continues to this day."

There was an unmistakable arrogance in his tone, the kind that came from generations of inherited prestige.

Orochimaru listened, but inwardly, he scoffed.

They have no true top-tier fighters left, yet they remain so prideful…

He knew the truth. The Uchiha's former glory had been built upon the strength of a single man—Madara Uchiha. It was his power, his name, that had once commanded fear and respect across the shinobi world. But Madara was gone, and the Uchiha who remained were merely living off his legacy.

They were a paper tiger, proud of the golden cage they had built for themselves.

Of course, he kept these thoughts to himself. Today, he came for a reason.

Soon, they arrived at the heart of the Uchiha district—the clan leader's reception hall.

Two guards flanked the entrance, their red Sharingan eyes flickering to life as they assessed the unexpected visitor. Without hesitation, one of them stepped inside to announce his arrival.

"Clan Leader, Orochimaru has arrived."

A pause followed before a deep, authoritative voice responded from within.

"Orochimaru? What is he doing here?"

Inside the hall, Uchiha Syōma, the clan leader, furrowed his brows. Orochimaru was not someone who casually visited. The two had rarely interacted, as the Uchiha and Orochimaru had always operated in their own spheres.

After a moment of thought, Syōma finally spoke.

"Let him in."

The guards stepped aside, allowing Orochimaru to enter.

Inside, the reception hall was grand yet minimalist—traditional wooden architecture, polished floors, and a large table where Syōma sat, his dark eyes scrutinizing Orochimaru's every move.

Orochimaru stepped forward with a polite, measured smile.

"Clan Leader Syōma, I hope I'm not intruding."

Syōma nodded but wasted no time with formalities.

"Orochimaru, what brings you to the Uchiha clan?"

There was no warmth in his voice, only curiosity laced with caution.

Orochimaru chuckled softly, feigning mild surprise.

"You mean to say you don't know? I assumed you were already aware. Surely Hokage-sama has informed all the major clans. Or… have you not received the message yet?"

A shadow crossed Syōma's face at the implication.

Orochimaru's smirk widened ever so slightly.