Two days later, an explosive rumor swept through the village:
The daimyō of the Land of Fire had been attacked!
According to the story, an Iwagakure infiltration team somehow slipped across the border and broke into the daimyō's residence.
The scene had been trajic, with more than half of the guardian shinobi were slain, until Orochimaru, who was escorting a supply convoy nearby, arrived just in time to rescue the daimyō.
Word spread fast. By the incident's second day, everyone in Konoha was talking about it.
They said the daimyō lavished Orochimaru with rewards, which he politely declined, asking instead for more resources to be sent to Konoha's troops, a request the daimyō granted.
For ordinary villagers, the daimyō was an almost sacred figure; they didn't grasp the politics, only that Orochimaru's deed was heroic and reflected glory on them all.
Turning down personal gifts to secure better supplies for comrades at the front won him even deeper respect.
As one of the legendary Sannin, Orochimaru already enjoyed immense prestige, yet he'd kept a low profile in this war, until now that is.
Rumors quickly filled the gap: some claimed he'd been on a top‑secret mission vital to national security, so dangerous that only a shinobi of his caliber could undertake it.
Although Orochimaru had not yet returned to Konoha, public opinion was already in full swing.
Sharp‑eyed observers sensed someone was deliberately stoking the flames, but most of those sharp eyes were currently deployed on the front lines.
…
Northern border of the Land of Fire
A sealing barrier dissolved, revealing a hidden military camp in the forest. At its head stood a young man, a pair of scars on his face, stubble on his chin, radiating quiet resolve.
"Lord Orochimaru." He bowed as he approached.
"Shikaku, are you in charge here?" Orochimaru asked, his gaze sweeping the camp.
"Lord Hokage entrusted me with the task," Shikaku replied evenly, "Word of what happened at the daimyō's mansion has reached us. Thanks to you, our country avoided disaster."
Orochimaru smiled faintly. "Compared with you risking your lives at the front, my part was nothing."
Shikaku blinked, surprised that Orochimaru would speak so politely, "You flatter me, Lord Orochimaru. Please, come inside."
The convoy of supply wagons rolled into the camp, and the stationed shinobi hurried to unload them.
The fresh supplies lifted everyone's spirits; shinobi dashed forward unbidden to lend a hand.
Orochimaru's eyes roamed the grounds.
Even with detachments elsewhere, thousands of shinobi remained, one of Konoha's largest garrisons on the Land of Earth front.
He knew camps like this well; in the previous Shinobi World War he had been a figure of dazzling reputation.
Yet in this war, he'd been pulled from the front early; Hiruzen had given him tasks only loosely connected to the battlefield.
Jiraiya was similar, fighting at the front but generating little news. Was he, too, stepping aside for his own student?
"Is Minato here?" Orochimaru asked.
"Minato's out on a mission," Shikaku said, "If all goes well, he should be back soon. Lord Orochimaru, you'll have time to see him."
Orochimaru chuckled softly. "So merely meeting him is this difficult?"
Shikaku explained, "You misunderstand, Lord Orochimaru. Minato hardly lets himself rest. He handles dozens of missions for every one the average shinobi does. Even I, working at the front, only see him on official business."
That admission drew genuine surprise from Orochimaru. He had always assumed Minato's reputation came from a handful of decisive victories he'd led. Clearly, he had underestimated the man—Minato was hands‑on in a way Orochimaru himself never had been.
After a pause, Orochimaru murmured, "Minato is truly relentless."
Shikaku nodded. "He once said, 'For Konoha, I'll sacrifice without regret.'"
As they spoke, Orochimaru suddenly stopped, tilting his head toward a massive tree nearby.
Sunlight filtered through the dense crown, scattering bright patches across his face.
"When we built the camp," Shikaku offered, "I thought it would be a shame to cut that one down, so we kept it. Off duty, everyone likes to sit under it and talk."
"Cutting it would have been a pity," Orochimaru agreed.
A breeze rustled the leaves; the shifting dappled light danced across his features, light and shadow interlacing, mesmerising the eye.
"Lord Minato's back!"
The shout rang across the camp, and a wave of excited chatter followed.
Orochimaru looked out and saw a tall, blond young man striding in, immediately surrounded by shinobi. Minato's warm smile carried the easy sunlight of early spring as he answered their greetings.
"Lord Orochimaru, Minato has returned," Shikaku reminded him.
"I see him," Orochimaru replied quietly, eyes fixed ahead.
On the battlefield, the enemy feared him as the Yellow Flash; in the village, civilians revered him as Konoha's hero.
This younger comrade's brilliance already outshone his own.
Fabricated rumors could fool common folk, yes, but these shinobi who had bled beside Minato? How could their loyalty ever be swayed?
Orochimaru's thoughts churned, and for once he found no path to break the impasse.
Until now he had scoffed at the idea: a mere Hokage's position, someone of his stature could seize it with a little power and cunning, couldn't he?
He resented Lord Hiruzen for giving up on him.
Wasn't he the favored student? Gifted, peerless in talent!
But compared with the man before him?
'The arrogant Eldest, the arrogant Eldest…' Shinji's comment echoed in his mind, deafening. For all his vaunted cleverness, he realized how narrow his vision had been.
"Lord Orochimaru?"
"Lord Orochimaru?"
Shikaku's voice pulled him back. Orochimaru turned.
"Let's head to the command tent," Shikaku said, "Minato will join us shortly."
"Very well."
As he walked away, Orochimaru glanced one last time toward Minato.
Stories can be fabricated; reality is far more fantastical…
'That boy…what ending will he carve out for me?'