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His hand moved lightly over the floor as the mop in his grip left a faint trail of water, catching the glow of the fluorescent lights above.
When he returned as the man asked, he offered him the position of janitor. It wasn't an exciting role, but he hadn't expected it to be. In fact, it was exactly what he needed. The job was quiet and simple, which allowed him to fade into the background effortlessly. He liked it that way—to stay unnoticed, blending into the environment like a shadow, silently observing the world around him.
Balancing this job and his other one was going to be a challenge though. He needed to work two jobs a day just to make ends meet, which meant pulling double shifts nearly every day. Still, he saw this as a temporary stage in his life—a stepping stone until he could get his life together and finally leave both jobs behind for good.
There was even a part of him considering dabbling in the underworld—just to test the waters and see how things might play out. He needed the money right now.
But being a janitor, however, was perfect for now. The job granted him unrestricted access to the entire building, allowing him to move freely and remain unnoticed, blending seamlessly into the background.
And if anything happened, no one ever suspected a janitor of anything out of the ordinary. This allowed him to move freely, quietly exploring and observing without raising any suspicion.
He even had access to the morgue—yes, even the morgue. This gave him the chance to study bodies, including the shinobi's from different clans.
However, there was an issue... most of the clans whose bodies ended up in the morgue were from the lower class clans and lacked any remarkable kekkei genkai or any at all.
The more powerful clans, like the Uchiha, who took immense pride in their heritage and viewed sending their deceased to the morgue as a grave insult, ensured their fallen members were never exposed to outsiders.
Similarly, the Hyuga and other prestigious clans with special bloodline abilities followed strict traditions to safeguard their secrets. They would either burn the bodies or conduct secret ceremonies, keeping the remains and their valuable jutsu knowledge away from anyone who might attempt to exploit them.
The idea of accessing a fresh body for experimentation was next to impossible. Most deceased individuals were placed in coffins after a few days, sometimes even a week, before being buried deep in the ground.
By that time, any usable materials—especially something as delicate as eyes—were already rotted. Even if he somehow dug up a grave, there was little chance of finding anything intact or useful.
It became even harder considering the graves of the Uchiha or Hyuga clans. To get anything from them would mean breaking into their compounds, places that were among the most secure and guarded.
Both clans took immense precautions to protect their dead, with rituals and surveillance ensuring no outsider could desecrate their legacies. Attempting to infiltrate one of these compounds was almost suicidal. He knew he couldn't stand a chance in a direct confrontation. The risk wasn't just high—it was literally impossible.
Shinobi born into clans often viewed themselves as superior to both clanless shinobi and civilians. This arrogance stemmed from a sort of "god complex." Clan shinobi believed they represented the pinnacle of the human species, while they saw the clanless as inferior—almost subhuman.
Even if he approached the compound, he knew what to expect. They would either stop him at the gates or outright threaten to kill him. While he was no stranger to confrontation and would usually be up for a fight. If it came down to a fight, he'd die in less than a second—folded like an omelet before he could even react.
Even if he somehow managed to slip past the guards, dig up the graves, and find the organs completely intact, there was still one problem—he didn't have enough chakra to support something like the Sharingan.
Even Kakashi struggled to maintain the three-tomoe Sharingan due to its massive chakra demands. How could his chakra levels possibly compare to someone like Kakashi's?...It didn't.
Especially for a non-Uchiha, the Sharingan posed an even greater pain in the ass. Unlike Uchiha clan members, who could deactivate their Sharingan at will and use only minimal chakra to sustain it, outsiders couldn't turn it off. This meant its chakra consumption was significantly higher for them, making it a far greater burden to wield it.
He didn't want that. Did it mean he would have to take Uchiha blood and inject it into himself to become partially Uchiha? He remembered Orochimaru conducting a similar experiment, though there was an underline issue with that approach.
Blood alone wouldn't be enough to truly make him an Uchiha. Injecting a small amount of foreign DNA wouldn't work because the body's immune system would immediately recognize it as foreign and destroy it.
Besides, blood itself doesn't contain DNA in a usable form. Even if he injected it, he wouldn't achieve the results he wanted. He needed more than just a symbolic attempt.
What he needed was the actual DNA from an Uchiha—their chromosomes. By extracting and integrating their genetic material with his own, he could theoretically rewrite his biology. This wasn't just a simple process of mixing DNA; it would involve altering his very makeup, reshaping his cells to carry the same traits and abilities as the Uchiha.
If he could successfully achieve that, he would then take the DNA not only from the Uchiha but also from every other clan, making their traits a part of him. He'd essentially become a living representation of every clan.
Imagine having the power of an Otsutsuki, capable of performing Shinjutsu without the need for hand signs.If he managed to get his hands on Hashirama cells, it would change everything. With those cells, combined with the power of a Jinchūriki and the Strength of a Hundred Seals, he could essentially achieve immortality.
He'd be able to recover from any wound and possess virtually limitless chakra, becoming an Orochimaru 2.0...But way fucking better.
The thought alone made his blood pump...even in places he didn't want it to.
Well, that kind of research would have to wait for another time.
Kaito walked the hospital halls, mop in hand, moving from one floor to the next. As he mopped the floors, a mix of doctors, nurses, and a few sick patients passed by, each absorbed in their own world. Kaito's eyes shifted from face to face, quietly observing as he did his job.
To anyone watching, he was just a janitor. But in truth, Kaito wasn't here to clean—he was searching. He was looking for someone, the perfect candidate who might unknowingly help him learn medical ninjutsu.
He didn't intend to outright ask for help; no, Kaito's plan was more subtle. He would play the role of a hopeful little boy, about his desire to become a doctor. Guilt and flattery would do the rest.
Kaito needed to find someone who was kind-hearted but naive, someone who wouldn't see through his motives. For a brief moment, he considered Haruto. She was skilled and approachable, but her popularity posed a problem.
Involving her would draw too much attention, and the last thing Kaito needed was to become the subject of hospital gossip. With a sigh, he shook his head and crossed her off his mental list. Haruto was a dead end.
A few other people came to mind, but they were still relatively well-known and would likely draw unwanted attention to him.
He moved through the cafeteria, mopping the floors with slow strokes. Afterward, he wiped the crumbs from the empty tables and carefully disinfected their surfaces. His gaze swept across the room, taking in the sea of faces that filled the area.
The cafeteria was full of lively chatter, punctuated by bursts of laughter as people enjoyed their meals. Then, his eyes stopped on someone sitting alone in the far corner, quietly isolated from the commotion around them
Kaito hadn't noticed them until now. 'I swore I looked over there before.' he mused, despite glancing in their direction multiple times, they had completely escaped his attention.
The person had thick, messy black hair that hung over their face, completely obscuring their eyes. They wore the standard high-collared, full-body uniform of the Konoha medical ninja, with the medic corps insignia prominently displayed on the left side of their chest.
They sat alone in the far corner, eating in silence... Perfect.... Kaito's lips curled into a subtle grin...he had finally found who he was looking for.
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Hitori raised the spoon in his hand and scooped up a portion of the mashed potatoes on his tray. Slowly, he brought it to his mouth, chewing for a few moments before swallowing.
He glanced around the cafeteria, his eyes scanning the lively groups of people laughing and chatting together. The room was filled with energy, but none of it seemed to reach his corner.
He tightened his grip on the spoon. 'Why am I so lonely?' he thought, a pang of sadness filling in his chest. He continued eating in silence, tucked away in the corner, his thoughts spiraling.
Hitori searched for an answer, replaying his past interactions. Every time he tried to talk to someone, they always gave him a look—a look he couldn't quite describe, but one that left him feeling invisible or unwanted.
But he realized it was likely just a look of pity. Hitori was a shy person, someone who struggled to speak to others. When he did manage to talk, it was in a whisper so soft that his words often went unnoticed.
Even with the patients he attended, their interactions were awkward and brief. He would mutter one or two words before leaving the room, and the patients often seemed relieved when he was gone.
As a child, things weren't much different. He had no friends and was a frequent target of bullying. Always the quiet kid, he kept to himself, retreating further into solitude as the years went by.
"Should I just..." Hitori hesitated for a moment, his voice barely above a whisper. "Kill myself... If I do it, nobody would care if I'm gone anyways..." His eyes were fixed on the food before him, his messy hair obscuring his face as despair clouded his thoughts.
He slowly reached for the small carton of milk beside his tray, lifting it toward his lips with trembling hands. The room seemed distant, the chatter around him fading into nothing but a hum. Just as the milk touched his lips, he felt a heavy shove against his shoulder.
The carton slipped from his grasp, spilling its contents across the table and falling onto the floor in a white, splattered mess.
"Oops... Sorry, sir," came a childish voice. It cut through the haze in Hitori's mind like a jagged knife. He froze, his eyes darting to the culprit...to see a boy smiling in his direction.
Kaito
"I'm so sorry about that!" Kaito immediately apologized, his voice 'earnest and apologetic'. "I'll clean it up right away."
Hitori stared, unable to process what had just happened. The boy knelt down, grabbing some napkins from his tray to wipe up the spilled milk. A slight smile still on his face despite the mess.
After cleaning the table and floor, Kaito straightened up and bowed deeply. "I'm really sorry again," he said, his tone 'genuinely remorseful'. Then, extending a hand toward Hitori, he added with a bright smile, "I'm Kaito. What's your name?"
Hitori hesitated, staring at the outstretched hand as if it were a foreign object. People didn't approach him like this. His heart picked up a pace, uncertainty bubbling to the surface. Finally, he swallowed and murmured, "Hitori..."
Kaito's smile widened. "Nice to meet you, Hitori." he said, his enthusiasm infectious. "Looks like you're having a tough day, huh? Mind if I sit here?"
Before Hitori could answer, Kaito pulled out a chair and plopped down beside him, his presence breaking through the invisible wall Hitori had built around himself. For the first time in a while, Hitori felt something other than isolation—a faint spark of connection.
Kaito didn't seem bothered by Hitori's silence. Instead, he launched into a story about how he had accidentally spilled a whole tray of food on himself earlier that week. "I swear, the whole cafeteria turned to stare at me! I thought I'd disappear right then and there," Kaito said, laughing at his own embarrassment. "But hey, at least I learned to balance my tray better."
Hitori couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. It was quiet, almost imperceptible, but Kaito caught it and grinned. "See? You've got a good laugh in you..."
The conversation flowed—well, mostly from Kaito's side. He talked about everything from the latest rumors around village to a stray dog he'd seen that morning. Hitori listened, nodding occasionally, his tension slowly easing with each passing minute.
Finally, Kaito leaned back in his chair and stretched. "You're not so bad after all. You're a bit quiet, but you're a pretty cool guy. I like how you listen," he said with a grin. "So how about it? We become friends?"
Hitori hesitated, his gaze dropping to the table as he mulled over the question. After a long moment, he gave a small, almost timid nod.
Kaito's smile grew even brighter. "Awesome!" he said, standing up and brushing off his uniform. "Well, I gotta get back to work, but I'll see you around, okay?" With a casual wave, he walked off, leaving Hitori feeling oddly lighter than he had in a long time.
Hitori watched as the man walked away through the cafeteria dragging a bucket of water along with a mop in hand.
'What was that about...' he thought, still processing what had just happened. A random guy had walked up to him out of nowhere and started talking like they'd known each other for ages. It was strange, unexpected... but not entirely unwelcome.
Despite the awkwardness, Hitori realized he didn't mind the boy's presence. In fact, he had actually enjoyed it, even if it caught him off guard. There was something about his easygoing energy that made the interaction feel refreshing.
Still, Hitori couldn't help but find it odd. Who just casually offers friendship like that, without hesitation or reason? It was bold, maybe even a little weird...
His eyes drifted to the clock on the wall.
"Break's over," he muttered to himself, pushing back from the table. With a small sigh, he stood up and headed back to work.
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