Orochimaru’s Magic Lamp

Whether or not the Kumogakure delegation actually knew about the Hyuga clan's plan, it's clear that they would never admit to it. And Konoha certainly wouldn't confront them directly—there's no trust between the two villages to begin with.

Whether the plan moves forward depends entirely on how much the Hyuga clan values Hyuga Hizashi, and whether they can stomach the humiliation of his death being for nothing.

Orochimaru suspected they wouldn't. Losing Hizashi wouldn't weaken the Hyuga clan or shake their standing in Konoha. But what would be intolerable is the shame—the idea that they were outplayed by the Kumogakure delegation, and allowed Hizashi to die in vain.

That kind of humiliation is something the Hyuga clan cannot accept.

Orochimaru recalled a story the Djinn once told him—about Zhuge Liang infuriating the warlord Zhou Yu three times, until the man died of rage. Orochimaru didn't believe it was fatigue or illness that killed him—it was the repeated public humiliation.

Zhuge Liang had mastered the art of manipulating perception and public opinion.

And this situation mirrored that story. Two enemy villages, with one—Kumogakure—sure to broadcast the scandal far and wide. The Hyuga clan couldn't allow themselves to become the laughingstock of the shinobi world.

If only this generation of Hyuga had a prodigy, perhaps one could rise from disgrace and awaken a new kekkei genkai, like the Sage of Six Paths did in ancient times. But there was no such figure now.

Jiraiya could tell Orochimaru's plan played skillfully on the distrust between the villages. It was simple, but undeniably effective.

Still, saving Hizashi wasn't all he wanted. What troubled him was what came after.

"What do we do next?" Jiraiya asked. "Are we just going to let Kumogakure keep barking without a response?"

"We'll talk about that later," Orochimaru replied with a smirk. "Let me keep that part a secret for now."

He patted Jiraiya's shoulder.

"I wasn't going to interfere in this at all—you're the one who pulled me in. So from this point on, whatever I do, however I do it, you'll support me. Understand?"

"You knew from the start that my methods aren't like everyone else's."

Jiraiya brushed off Orochimaru's hand, frowning. But he nodded.

He did know.

But if the alternative was to sit back and watch Hizashi die, he'd rather go along with Orochimaru's ruthless methods.

"Oh, and at the next council meeting," Orochimaru added, "bring Tsunade. Try to persuade her to side with us."

A glint of amusement crossed his face.

---

Hyuga Clan Grounds

In the wide indoor training hall, Neji Hyuga stood barefoot on the tatami, fists flying as he practiced. His breathing was steady but sharp, and he punctuated each motion with sharp, focused cries.

Kneeling nearby was his mother, watching silently. His young face was already soaked with sweat, a clear sign of his dedication. Her eyes held both pride and a quiet sorrow.

In the shinobi world, youth had never been a barrier. Itachi had gone to war at the age of six. And Neji—he was a true prodigy of the Hyuga clan.

She had watched him grow step by step, proud of every accomplishment. But beneath that pride was a deep, gnawing regret.

To be a genius in the Hyuga branch house was not a blessing. It was a curse.

More than ten years ago, Hyuga Hizashi had also been hailed as a genius of the clan.

Was that same cruel fate now destined to repeat itself with Neji?

The thought made Neji's mother sigh quietly.

"Mother, is something wrong?" At some point, little Neji had walked over to her, his training robes drenched in sweat.

He was talented, yes—but still a child. His bones hadn't fully matured yet, and even holding proper stances for too long quickly wore him out. Still, children had endless energy. With only a few short breaks here and there, he'd been training for quite some time.

"It's nothing," she replied softly.

She dipped a towel in clean water and gently wiped the sweat from his small body.

Neji closed his eyes, completely at ease, leaning into her touch with a peaceful smile.

Seeing that innocent, trusting expression on his face, her heart clenched. Her hand froze mid-motion. And then, silently, tears began to fall.

Neji's fate was even more heartless than Hizashi's.

She had shared a bed with her husband for years—how could she not know what he was planning… and what he was willing to give up?

"Mother? Why are you crying?"

Neji opened his eyes in confusion. When he saw the tears on her cheeks, he panicked, clearly unsure of what to do.

No matter how disciplined he seemed, no matter how mature he tried to act—he was still just a child.

His mother quickly wiped her face and forced a smile.

"It's nothing... really. I'm just so proud of how hard you're working. It made me happy, that's all."

"Really?" Neji asked, looking at her with innocent suspicion. Deep down, something didn't feel right.

If she was happy, why did her smile look so sad?

"It's true," she replied, keeping her smile up even as fresh tears welled in her eyes.

She wasn't like her husband. She had no special talent—just an ordinary woman, powerless before the will of the village or the clan. No matter how much her heart burned, there was nothing she could do to stop the sacrifice they were demanding.

She could only sit and watch as her husband prepared to throw away his life… all in the name of "honor."

Slide…

Suddenly, the shoji door opened. The fading sunlight spilled into the room, and a long shadow stretched across the tatami, casting a darkness that seemed to swallow mother and child whole.

A cold figure stood in the doorway, his face obscured in the shadows.

Neji's mother startled and wiped her face quickly, standing up.

"Lord Orochimaru, I didn't expect you so soon—please forgive me, I'll go prepare some tea—"

"No need."

Orochimaru's golden eyes glanced over her tear-streaked face. Then he looked at Neji.

"I've come to speak with Neji. I'd prefer if you stayed as well."

As Orochimaru spoke, Neji quickly stood straight, his young face serious and disciplined.

Though it hadn't been formally decided, he already knew this was the man his father would call 'teacher'—and someone he'd be expected to respect, or perhaps fear.

"It seems I've come at a bad time," Orochimaru added, his voice almost mocking. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

"N-not at all…" Neji's mother replied, her voice stiff.

She feared Orochimaru—not just for his fame as one of the legendary Sannin, but because of something far more unsettling: the oppressive aura that seemed to suffocate the room.

In the past, she'd sensed a beast lurking beneath the surface. But now, there was no aura at all. It was like standing in front of something no longer human. Something unknowable.

An indescribable terror crept into her chest.

But… if someone like him was willing to intervene for Hizashi… was there still hope?

As Orochimaru sat cross-legged beside Neji, his mother hesitated, words catching in her throat.

He noticed. And with a strange, knowing smile, Orochimaru said nothing.

____________________

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