Orochimaru had never been able to forget that day six years ago. The memory stayed clear no matter how much time passed, returning whenever rain fell. It was etched into him without mercy.
In year 48 of the Shinobi World Chronicle, the Third Shinobi World War came to an end. Konoha, attacked from all sides, paid a brutal price and finally claimed victory. The war ended, but the cost did not vanish.
But what did it mean?
Orochimaru's thin lips moved soundlessly as he looked straight ahead with a calm gaze. Dark clouds covered the entire sky, and the already cold graveyard felt even more empty under the rain. People bowed their heads and sobbed, black umbrellas packed together like a mass of dark shapes.
He stood among the mourners and looked toward the old man at the front. That was his teacher, Hiruzen Sarutobi. Hiruzen Sarutobi wiped rain from the tombstone, and that simple motion stirred grief among the crowd.
Orochimaru turned his eyes to a child standing a little ahead to the side. He recognized the boy from seeing him often, running upside down around Konoha with his Genin father. In his memory, the two of them were always loud and optimistic, ignoring the looks of annoyance and mockery around them.
Now was different.
This was the first time Orochimaru had seen the boy cry. He cried clumsily, with tears and mucus mixed across his face, streaked into a mess by the rain.
He had heard what happened during the mission. The boy had encountered members of Kirigakure's Seven Ninja Swordsmen, and that so called useless Genin father rushed in to cover his child's escape. Alone, he killed four of them, while the remaining three fled with severe injuries.
The father died there.
And there was another child.
Orochimaru shifted his gaze again, seeing a young face reflected in his eyes. The boy stood without an umbrella, letting the rain soak him. His crying was quiet and hoarse, his head lowered as his shoulders trembled, making faint broken sounds.
Tears kept streaming down in several lines, mixing with the rain as they fell.
Yunchuan Hyuga was timid by nature and physically weak. While others his age had begun learning Gentle Fist, he had not even awakened Byakugan, earning him the reputation of a useless burden within the Hyuga Clan. His father had not died on the battlefield, but succumbed to his injuries after returning, and rumors inside the clan said the elders had activated the Caged Bird Seal because he failed to protect main family members.
During the Second Shinobi World War, that same man had once served under Orochimaru with merit. How old were these two children? Nine, or ten?
So young, already sent to war. So young, already stripped of their only family.
Orochimaru looked again at the old man in front. Lightning flashed through the clouds, turning the world gray and white in an instant. The bent shadow on the ground looked long and twisted, and Hiruzen Sarutobi's sorrowful face was split between light and dark.
Having lived through two great wars, Orochimaru suddenly felt a deep disgust. It was strong enough to make him feel sick. What meaning did the lives of those who died in war really have?
Nothing had changed. Nothing at all.
When the crowd finally dispersed, only silent tombstones remained. Orochimaru stood before Nawaki's grave, holding a black umbrella dark as ink in the rain. He placed a white chrysanthemum down and looked at the familiar name, feeling no reaction at all.
No sadness, no anger, no pity.
Yet he was not calm.
He watched the rain drip from the edge of his umbrella and vanish into the carved lines of the stone. From deep inside, fear slowly rose.
"That, um…"
A timid voice came from behind, as if forced out of a tight throat. Orochimaru turned and met a pair of pale eyes. His cold expression startled the boy, who flinched back before steadying himself.
"Y your face looks very bad, so…"
Under Orochimaru's gaze, the voice grew quieter. Looking down at Yunchuan Hyuga, Orochimaru understood that he had stood at the grave too long. The boy must have been worried about him.
Kind, timid, and weak.
A useless person.
Orochimaru made that judgment and turned to leave without another word.
"Orochimaru sir."
The voice stopped him. He paused without knowing why.
"Do you know what the meaning of life is?"
Orochimaru narrowed his eyes and turned back. The boy still looked timid, but he lifted his head in confusion. "My father often spoke of you. He said you were a hero of Konoha. I thought someone like you would know."
"There is no meaning," Orochimaru said quietly, cutting him off. "If there is any, it only exists while one is alive. A life that has ended has no meaning at all."
Death was the fairest thing in the world. No matter what one did or owned in life, death left nothing behind. The cold wind slipped into his collar, and Orochimaru tightened his grip on the umbrella until his fingers paled.
To die was to lose everything. He did not want to lose everything. He wanted to possess everything.
"Orochimaru sir," Yunchuan Hyuga suddenly asked, "do you believe there are gods?"
Orochimaru looked at the timid child and almost laughed. To him, both saviors of prophecy and gods were inventions of the weak. An all knowing god did not exist, and even if one did, it would only be a stronger being.
"What if it had eternal life?" Yunchuan Hyuga hurriedly said. "Before he died, my father gave me a scroll and a body. He said the scroll recorded secrets of the Hyuga Clan, but I cannot open it. The body belongs to an ancestor who never died, only lost his soul."
The boy's voice grew smaller, but Orochimaru's eyes trembled. Of all people in the shinobi world, he knew the most about souls. Most considered them vague nonsense, yet to him, separation from the body was possible, especially for an ancient clan like the Hyuga Clan.
He studied the sweating child and found himself believing him a little. Perhaps it would not hurt to take a look.
Yunchuan Hyuga suddenly noticed that rain no longer fell on him. A shadow covered his vision.
"Why are you telling me this?" Orochimaru asked.
Yunchuan Hyuga looked up into his narrow eyes. Orochimaru held the umbrella and bent slightly, meeting him at eye level. "These are clan secrets. Why not tell the elders?" he asked with a faint smile.
"My father said that if he died, I could trade them for better treatment," Yunchuan Hyuga said softly. "But I do not trust them. They forced my father to death."
His trembling fists surprised Orochimaru. "Do you want me to help you take revenge?" Orochimaru asked lightly. "Are you not afraid I will tell the Hyuga Clan?"
"I do not think you would," Yunchuan Hyuga replied. "And even if you did, I would not lose much. Only myself."
Orochimaru was silent for a moment. Then he laughed and placed a hand on the boy's head.
Life might not have meaning, but only by living could one meet interesting people and things.
Later, Yunchuan Hyuga gave the scroll and the body to Orochimaru. After breaking part of the seal, Orochimaru read the first pages and learned of the Otsutsuki Clan, beings from beyond the world. They possessed great power by birth and could revive through a method called a Karma mark.