A small bonfire flickered, pushing back the forest's encroaching darkness.
Orochimaru tossed a piece of wood into the flames, the dry timber crackling as it caught fire.
"Your speed and stamina need work," he said, his hoarse voice addressing Rope Tree and Mikoto's struggles during the day's run. "These are critical for any ninja. Over the next few days, I'll teach you techniques suited to your strengths."
"But first, you must understand how to increase speed," Orochimaru continued, turning a wild boar over the fire. Golden oil seeped from its charred skin, sizzling under the heat.
"There are several ways to boost speed. The first is pure physical movement, driven by rigorous training. Day after day, you must hone your body to achieve it."
Orochimaru sighed. "Few excel at this naturally. Your teacher, Sensei Nishimura, is one such master."
Tatsumi's eyes widened. Nishimura? That guy?
He'd always pegged Nishimura as unreliable—a broke, petty chunin who bragged too much and flopped at blind dates. Yet Orochimaru's respect suggested hidden depths. Was Nishimura secretly a prodigy? The illegitimate son of the Third Hokage? A shadow-level powerhouse masking his strength, burdened by a tragic past, teaching at the Academy to lie low?
Tatsumi's imagination ran wild. Maybe Nishimura was poised to mentor him, ready to pass down forbidden jutsu and a fortune. Why else would he play the fool? Unless… Am I too perfect for him to approach? Tatsumi touched his face, half-serious.
Oblivious to Tatsumi's mental spiral, Orochimaru continued. "Beyond physical techniques, the second method uses chakra to stimulate cells, enabling high-speed movement."
"The Yeyue clan of the Cloud Village is renowned for this," he said. "Every Raikage masters Lightning Release to enhance their chakra, achieving unparalleled speed."
Orochimaru's golden eyes shifted to Tatsumi and Mikoto. "You both have the lightning chakra nature, don't you?"
Mikoto nodded shyly.
Tatsumi, still lost in his Nishimura conspiracy, didn't respond.
"…"
"The third method involves ninjutsu—techniques like Substitution or elemental escapes to swap positions or move instantly," Orochimaru said. "These require hand signs."
"The most famous practitioner is Sansho Hanzo, leader of the Rain Village. His ghostly speed and unpredictable summoning beasts make him a legend. I've seen him fight—his skill far surpasses mine."
Orochimaru's voice carried a rare reverence, his eyes gleaming with admiration for Hanzo's prowess.
"The final method is the Second Hokage's Flying Thunder God Technique, a space-time ninjutsu. It's unique—none have replicated it."
Orochimaru omitted any mention of advanced Uchiha techniques, like those tied to the Sharingan. Such methods blended the above principles and weren't distinct categories.
He continued discussing ninjutsu, his expertise shining through. For once, the reserved Sannin was talkative, far from the aloof figure Tatsumi expected.
Eventually, Orochimaru paused, fatigue creeping in. He sliced the roasted boar, its golden fat dripping, and handed portions to Tatsumi, Mikoto, and Rope Tree.
"Eat. You've been hungry all day," he said gently, his hoarse voice almost warm.
Tatsumi blinked, stunned. This… gentle Uncle Snake? Is this a clone or what?
Orochimaru gestured to the bonfire. "A fire like this is only safe here, near Konoha. In hostile lands, it's a death sentence, broadcasting your position."
"And food," he added. "On long missions, when rations run dry, you must hunt. Self-sufficiency is key."
Orochimaru shared years of mission experience—tips on traps, survival, and combat—distilling hard-earned lessons for the trio to absorb and apply.
"By the way, Uncle Snake," Tatsumi said, "I sensed traces of genjutsu nearby. What's that about?"
Orochimaru's eyes glinted with approval. "Sharp. Yes, I've woven chakra-based genjutsu around our camp, layered with physical traps. They'll alert us if enemies approach, without others noticing."
Tatsumi nodded, impressed.
"Your genjutsu talent is remarkable," Orochimaru said. "Tsunade mentioned it once. Your illusions differ from standard techniques—they're more potent, subtler."
"Exactly," Tatsumi said, picking up the thread. "Many of my genjutsu don't require hand signs, and their power spikes dramatically."
Tatsumi had always puzzled over this. His hand-sign speed was exceptional, even for one-handed seals, but genjutsu came to him effortlessly, often without seals at all. This was true even before awakening his Sharingan. With it, his illusions would be terrifying.
He'd queried his mysterious "system," but it offered no answers. He could only chalk it up to innate talent—perhaps tied to his lineage, as the father of Shisui, the manga's famed "strongest illusionist."
Orochimaru nodded, unperturbed. "Genius defies explanation. Everyone has their gifts."
Gazing at Tatsumi, Mikoto, and Rope Tree, Orochimaru felt a pang of nostalgia. He saw echoes of his own youth—Sarutobi Hiruzen leading him, Tsunade, and Jiraiya on missions, bickering and bonding. Now, they were seasoned ninjas, scattered by time.
A faint smile curved his lips. "Sensei Sarutobi, did you feel this way, watching us grow?"
Visit patreon.com/TEA_QUILL to get 30+ chapters