So, it's a gacha system.
Not the worst outcome.
In fact, rather advantageous. If this system operates as I hypothesise, then I am no longer shackled by this world's finite logic. The rules… can be rewritten.
Name: Orochimaru
Race: Human
Characters Assimilated:
• Fully Assimilated: None
• In Progress: [Empty] [Empty]
Summons: None
Powers: Chakra control , Substitution jutsu, etc.
Equipped Items: None
I scrutinise the interface. Basic, yet functional.
A single point per day. Three required for a draw. Tedious… but manageable.
I've spent decades mastering jutsu that took lifetimes to develop. This is nothing.
If this system behaves like those in memories, then I am no longer limited to the chakra systems of this world alone. No longer bound by jutsu or bloodlines scattered across the elemental nations.
I can cross domains. Harvest abilities. Assimilate power.
It is… intoxicating.
A subtle chakra flicker at the edge of my perception draws my attention.
The window.
"Lord Orochimaru," the masked Anbu kneels. "Hokage-sama has summoned you."
So… it begins.
Sarutobi-sensei makes his move.
Predictable.
"The Hokage can wait a moment longer," I reply, waving him off. The shinobi vanishes without a sound.
The Hokage transition draws near. And Sensei wishes to play shepherd to his flock.
I rise not out of obedience, but curiosity.
Will the future align with what I know… or will changes ripple across the timeline?
Without further hesitation, I leave.
Might as well see what the old man wants.
When I arrive at the Hokage's office, I can already sense the chakra signatures within. Many of them.
I step in.
Right in front of me, sitting in his usual spot, is Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Third Hokage. The ever-so-persistent preacher of the Will of Fire.
To his right sit Homura Mitokado and Koharu Utatane, his two loyal advisors. A bitch and a dog wearing goggles, always yapping about village stability.
And to their left, Danzo Shimura. The darkness of the shinobi world or so he likes to think. One functioning eye and enough paranoia to fill the room. The Pot King himself.
The rest of the room is packed. Clan leaders in neat rows, expressions unreadable. Jōnin lining the walls, silent observers.
"Orochimaru, you finally came."
That voice.
Jiraiya.
Leaning casually against the far wall. Smiling, as always. Foolish, as always.
Beside him, standing like the village's golden child, is Minato Namikaze, Konoha's Yellow Flash.
"Senior Orochimaru," he greets me with that infuriatingly respectful tone.
I nod at the greetings and take my seat. A place I earned through years of war and experimentation. Two shinobi wars. Countless missions. A life spent in pursuit of knowledge and power.
Minato stands behind Jiraiya. Despite his battlefield achievements despite the corpses left in his wake his political standing remains low. A soldier. Not yet a leader.
But that won't matter soon… will it?
I know what comes next.
Sarutobi clears his throat.
"Since everyone's here, let's start the meeting," he begins. "The war is over. We've signed peace with Kirigakure."
No applause. No surprise.
Just silence. Tired silence.
We all know the truth. Peace through attrition. Not victory.
My eyes flick toward the Jōnin wall.
Kakashi Hatake. The boy looks half-dead on his feet, porcelain expression hiding exhaustion. That mask can't conceal trauma.
Fugaku Uchiha sits nearby, arms folded, his clan's pride radiating through clenched teeth. They bled the most. The Uchiha were always used like pawns, thrown to the front lines while the elders stayed behind their paperwork.
I feel the resentment brewing. Understandable. And useful.
But today's meeting isn't about bloodshed. It's about legacy.
Succession.
Sensei begins his performance.
"This war has cost us much, lives, resources, stability. But from loss, we must build. We need leadership… vision."
He's laying the groundwork. Reframing failure as rebirth. Turning ruin into renewal.
Classic Sarutobi.
"It is time for Konoha to be led by new hands."
And there it is.
He does not offer. He declares.
A decision disguised as wisdom.
His gaze turns.
To Minato.
And the room shifts.
The atmosphere thickens. Voices rise. Nods of approval. Silent acceptance. A tide turning without resistance.
Jiraiya places a hand on Minato's shoulder. Supportive. Almost fatherly.
I sit still.
Silent.
So… it's official.
The seat I once considered mine has been he is going to give him.
How poetic.
And how shortsighted.
You let me down, Sensei.
*********
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