Corpse Collector of Konoha

Chapter 55: Keep An Eye on Uchiha For Me

Konoha - Hokage Building

The Hokage's office had that peculiar tension that came with waiting for bad news. Sarutobi Hiruzen sat behind his desk like a man expecting his own execution notice, while the three elders—Danzo, Koharu, and En—arranged themselves around the room like vultures waiting for a meal.

When the snake slithered across his desk with the casual confidence of someone who belonged there, Hiruzen actually felt his shoulders relax a fraction. At least it meant Orochimaru's army still 'existed' to send reports. In wartime, silence was usually synonymous with death.

The snake performed its disgusting little magic trick, regurgitating a scroll that glistened with mucus and the promise of either victory or catastrophe. Hiruzen had seen enough of these deliveries to know that the contents were always a coin flip between "manageable disaster" and "start planning the funeral pyres."

As he read, his eyebrows performed an interpretive dance that told the whole story—furrowing with concern, smoothing with relief, then diving back into worried territory. It was like watching someone's emotional state get put through a grinder.

"Hiruzen," Danzo's voice cut through the silence with the patience of a man who'd been waiting for news that could determine the village's future, "what did Orochimaru say?"

Hiruzen handed over the scroll without a word. Let Danzo experience the emotional roller coaster for himself—misery loved company, after all.

Danzo's face went through the exact same progression of expressions, which would have been amusing under different circumstances. When he finished, he leaned back on his crutch with the satisfied air of a man who'd just calculated a particularly favorable trade agreement.

"Although we suffered heavy losses," Danzo said, his voice carrying the cold practicality that made him both invaluable and terrifying, "the Iwagakure suffered even greater losses. Orochimaru managed an impressive exchange rate, considering they initiated the attack."

From Danzo's perspective, it was simple mathematics. Ninja were resources, and as long as you lost fewer resources than the enemy, you were winning. It was the kind of logic that kept villages alive and leaders awake at night.

But Hiruzen's expression remained clouded, the weight of each lost life sitting heavy on his shoulders. "No matter how many Iwagakure ninja fell, we can't afford these losses. Every Konoha ninja represents years of training, irreplaceable experience, and..." He paused, looking older than his years. "They're people, Danzo. Not just statistics."

It was the eternal divide between them—Hiruzen's bleeding heart and Danzo's calculating mind. Separately, they were incomplete leaders. Together, they'd somehow managed to keep Konoha from either collapsing into soft-hearted idealism or crystallizing into heartless pragmatism.

"However," Danzo continued, seemingly oblivious to the philosophical tension, "the Iwagakure front should stabilize temporarily. Ōnoki isn't the type to rush into anything without three backup plans and an escape route."

Hiruzen nodded, then began the delicate process of dismissing the other elders. Koharu got medical assignment duties, En got logistics responsibilities, and both left with the subtle understanding that the real conversation was about to begin.

The moment the door closed, a second snake emerged from under the desk like some kind of reptilian stage manager, delivering its own scroll with theatrical timing.

Danzo's eyebrows climbed toward his hairline. Two scrolls meant secrets, and secrets meant the kind of conversations that never appeared in official records.

Hiruzen read the second scroll with the slow, methodical pace of a man defusing a bomb. When he finally set it down, he reached for his pipe—always a bad sign—and began smoking with the dedication of someone trying to burn through his remaining lifespan as quickly as possible.

"Hiruzen," Danzo's voice carried a dangerous edge, "what aren't you telling me?"

After what felt like an eternity of pipe smoke and meaningful silence, Hiruzen finally spoke. "Orochimaru reports that Tuhe, the Iwagakure commander, initially escaped but was killed by an unknown ninja. Identity unknown, allegiance unclear, but..." He paused to take another drag. "Orochimaru doesn't believe this mystery ninja harbors any particular hostility toward Konoha."

"Mystery ninja?" Danzo's voice went flat—never a good sign with him.

As the leader of Root, Danzo knew exactly what Tuhe represented. The man was a quasi-kage, someone who stood one step away from the absolute pinnacle of ninja power. Even if that final step might remain forever out of reach, his current strength was unquestionable.

And someone had just killed him.

"Orochimaru couldn't finish him off," Danzo said slowly, working through the implications, "but this unknown ninja could?"

What Danzo didn't know—what Orochimaru had conveniently omitted from his report—was that Tuhe had been barely alive when the mystery ninja found him. The difference between executing a dying man and defeating him at full strength was the difference between mercy killing and genuine power.

But from Hiruzen and Danzo's perspective, some unknown powerhouse had just eliminated a quasi-kage level threat. The implications were staggering.

"And Orochimaru believes this individual isn't hostile to us?" Danzo pressed.

"That's what he reports."

Danzo fell silent, his mind already racing through possibilities. After decades of partnership, he could read Hiruzen's expressions like a book, and right now, the Hokage was practically radiating opportunity.

In wartime, one more ally was infinitely more valuable than one more enemy. And if this mystery ninja could be convinced to work with Konoha rather than against it...

The task was obvious. Danzo would handle the "recruitment" efforts—he had the tools and the moral flexibility for such delicate work. Hiruzen had dismissed the other elders because they were too rigid, too bound by conventional thinking to appreciate the potential of turning a foreign ninja into a Konoha asset.

Some things were better left as secrets between the Hokage and his shadow.

**The Next Day - Fire Country Border**

The command tent felt like a trap disguised as a meeting room. Qifeng stood at respectful attention while Orochimaru lounged in his chair with the casual confidence of a predator who knew the prey had nowhere to run.

"Lord Orochimaru," Qifeng said, trying to keep his voice steady. Every instinct screamed at him to run, but running would only confirm whatever suspicions were already forming in that serpentine mind.

Orochimaru barely acknowledged him, which was somehow worse than being the focus of his attention. The silence stretched until a small snake emerged from the Sannin's sleeve, performing its disgusting mail delivery service with practiced efficiency.

God, I hate this job, Qifeng thought as he watched the snake regurgitate its payload. Six months ago, my biggest worry was whether the cafeteria would serve decent ramen. Now I'm watching snakes vomit up classified correspondence while trying not to think about how many ways my boss could kill me.

Orochimaru read the scroll with the same expression he might use to peruse a grocery list, though Qifeng caught the slight tightening around his eyes that suggested the contents were anything but routine.

After what felt like an hour of tense silence, Orochimaru finally looked up with that smile that never quite reached his eyes. "Qifeng-kun, the village is sending someone to escort the wounded back. Would you like to go?"

Qifeng's heart nearly stopped. Was this a test? A trap? A genuine offer? With Orochimaru, every conversation was a minefield wrapped in an enigma, sprinkled with the possibility of sudden death.

"Is... is that allowed?" he managed to ask, hating how hopeful his voice sounded.

Please say yes. Please let me go back to the village where the worst thing that can happen is paperwork and training accidents. Please get me away from this nightmare battlefield where I'm apparently becoming someone's pet project.

"Of course," Orochimaru said, as if offering to let him return to safety was the most natural thing in the world.

But this was Orochimaru, and nothing was ever simple with him. Qifeng found himself analyzing every word, every gesture, every pause for hidden meaning. It was exhausting, like trying to have a normal conversation with someone who spoke exclusively in riddles and veiled threats.

"Then I'll follow Lord Orochimaru's arrangements," Qifeng replied, aiming for respectful enthusiasm while internally screaming with relief.

"Then you can stay here."

Qifeng blinked. Then blinked again. His brain performed a small emergency shutdown and restart sequence.

What.

Orochimaru's chuckle was like silk wrapped around a knife blade. "Prepare yourself. You'll leave with the team tomorrow."

"Yes!" Qifeng practically shouted, then caught himself and tried to look appropriately grateful rather than desperately relieved. "Thank you, Lord Orochimaru!"

But as he turned to leave, some misguided sense of professionalism made him pause. Maybe he should try to be a good subordinate? Show some initiative? Demonstrate value beyond being a walking question mark?

"Lord Orochimaru," he said, immediately regretting the decision to speak, "is there anything I can do for you?"

Orochimaru's smile sharpened to the point where it could probably cut glass. "Keep an eye on the Uchiha for me."

The words hit Qifeng like a physical blow. His blood turned to ice water as the implications crashed over him. The Uchiha. The most politically sensitive clan in Konoha. The ones who were already dancing on the edge of suspicion and rebellion.

And Orochimaru wanted him to spy on them.

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. This is how I die. Not on a battlefield, not from enemy action, but from getting caught in the middle of village politics while trying to spy on a clan of walking war crimes.

"Of course, Lord Orochimaru," he heard himself say, his voice sounding remarkably steady for someone whose world had just collapsed into a black hole of political intrigue.

As Qifeng left the tent, his mind racing through the implications of his new assignment, Orochimaru leaned back in his chair with the satisfied expression of someone who'd just set several complex plans in motion.

The reason for sending Qifeng back was elegantly simple—it was a test. Hiruzen wanted more information about the mystery ninja, and Orochimaru had his own suspicions about his newest subordinate.

If Qifeng left and the mystery ninja never appeared again, well... that would be quite the coincidence, wouldn't it? Three separate incidents where both individuals had been involved, and now they were linked by absence as much as presence.

Either they're the same person, Orochimaru mused, or they're connected in ways that my dear subordinate has been very careful not to mention.

The game was afoot, and Orochimaru had always enjoyed games where the stakes were measured in lives and secrets.

"Very interesting indeed," he murmured to the empty tent, his smile promising that answers would be found, one way or another.

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