Chapter 3: Is This a Genjutsu? (Patreon)

Of all the things Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Third Hokage, expected from this strategy meeting, a sudden and keen interest in bureaucratic minutiae from Orochimaru was not on the list.

It was like finding a snake that had suddenly developed a passion for knitting. Hiruzen blinked, his pipe momentarily forgotten.

His most taciturn student, the man who usually communicated in grunts, dismissive smirks, and the occasional creepy, prolonged stare, was asking about… paperwork?

Typically, Orochimaru's reports were things of minimalist legend, often just a single line: "The target is no more." Getting details on troop morale or supply-line logistics from him was like drawing blood from a stone—a stone that would probably try to genetically modify you for the trouble.

Perhaps he's just eager to get started, Hiruzen mused, mentally shrugging. Wants to know the number of troops so he can start planning before the end of the meeting. Indeed, as efficient as ever.

"Tentatively, you will be leading a force of no less than three thousand shinobi," Hiruzen began, deciding to play along. "With reinforcements to follow once you've established a beachhead and secured our supply routes. And you'll have Shikaku Nara acting as your strategist and second-in-command."

A slow, almost imperceptible nod from Orochimaru. Exactly as he'd anticipated.

While brilliant, this version of Shikaku hadn't yet been forged in the fires of clan leadership and full-blown war; his father and the other ex-heads of the Ino-Shika-Chō were still busy on the Kumo front.

This was perfect. A prodigy without the political weight to second-guess his commander's more… unconventional ideas was a prodigy worth keeping. He wouldn't have the prestige to disobey an order, or, more importantly, to ask too many questions about what exactly those orders were.

Feeling a mischievous impulse, Orochimaru decided to see just how far Hiruzen trusted him.

"Sensei," he said, the word laced with a deceptive warmth that made Hiruzen's eyebrow twitch. "To ensure maximum efficiency and fluidity of command on the Kiri front, which requires rapid, localized decision-making, I would like the authority to appoint Jonin."

The air in the room didn't just get cold; it flash-froze.

You could have heard a pin drop, and then heard that pin get nervously promoted to Chunin.

The power to appoint a Jonin wasn't just some administrative checkbox; it was a core, sacrosanct pillar of the Hokage's absolute authority. It was the ultimate carrot on the ultimate stick. Merit helped, sure, but final say resided in one office, and one office alone.

The Hokage's power was so absolute it made a dictator look indecisive.

The whole "Jonin Council elects the Hokage" thing was but a charming piece of political theater, a polite fiction.

Didn't Hiruzen himself get the job because Tobirama pointed a finger and said, "You, boy?"

And in the not-so-distant future, wouldn't Minato get the top job because a weary old Sarutobi said so, Danzo scowled recommending Orochimaru, two elderly advisors waffled, and the Daimyo just signed where he was told? The system was a rubber stamp with a fancy seal on it.

Promotions worked the same way. You could win the Chunin Exams, beat your opponent into the ground, and still go home with just a participation ribbon if the Hokage decided your haircut was too un-Konoha-like.

So, when Orochimaru casually asked for a slice of that ultimate power pie, every other Jonin in the room immediately started doing the mental math. Their eyes glazed over as they considered the implications.

Take the Uchiha, for instance. If, by some miracle, Orochimaru was granted this power and decided, on a whim, to promote twenty of their clansmen to Jonin… well, the police force would suddenly look a lot like a standing army.

They'd become the single most powerful faction in the village overnight, no contest.

Hiruzen's kindly-old-man expression vanished, replaced by the razor-sharp gaze of the "God of Shinobi." He studied his student, truly studied him.

He was an enigma wrapped in a mystery and then dipped in pale, scaly foundation. Is this a power play? he wondered, his mind racing. Is he finally making a move for my chair?

It was a logical fear. Everyone with two brain cells to rub together knew this was likely Hiruzen's last war as Hokage.

The village was bursting with fresh, talented candidates. If he tried to cling to power afterwards, it would cause a civil war. And Orochimaru wasn't just on the list; for many, he was the list. One of the most powerful, the most strategically brilliant, the most… terrifyingly effective.

But that was the problem. Ever since the tragic death of Nawaki, a deep, unsettling darkness had taken root in Orochimaru's heart.

The reports of human experimentation, the forbidden jutsu research, the chilling detachment from his fellow shinobi… it all painted a picture of a man who saw people as puzzles to be solved, not protected.

And yet… this was the first flicker of outright political ambition Hiruzen had seen from him in years.

A twisted part of the Hokage was almost… proud. It showed the snake still had some interest in the village, in leadership, in something other than what was hiding in a petri dish. The reservations were canyon-deep, but the curiosity was stronger. He had to see where this was going.

Hiruzen steepled his fingers, the smoke from his pipe curling around him like a wary serpent.

"An… interesting proposal, Orochimaru," he said, his voice deceptively calm. "Let's discuss the specifics of what you have in mind. In exquisite detail."
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A slow, deliberate smile stretched across Orochimaru's face—a sight so unnerving it could make a seasoned ANBU check the corners of the room for suspicious puddles.

He thought that the great Konoha wasn't quite the rotting tree he believed it to be, a thought he would have to delete just two minutes later.

He began to speak, his voice a silken, hypnotic hiss that commanded the room more effectively than a shouted order.

"As you are all aware," he started, as if they were about to embark on a delightful conversational journey rather than discuss a potential apocalypse, "our village is currently the main attraction for all four Great Hidden Villages. The atmosphere is so… tense, and our troops are exhausted.

He paused, letting the grim reality settle in before delivering the punchline with chilling nonchalance. "If the situation deteriorates further, we may find ourselves issuing tiny forehead protectors and sending academy students to the battlefield."

He then shifted to the strategic meat of the matter. "Now, on the Kiri front, if the Uchiha and the Hyuga can manage to glare at our enemies, I am confident we can create a stalemate."

"We can hold the line, wait for another front to resolve itself, and hope for the best." His golden eyes gleamed. "But relying on luck is a very bad idea. What we need is not to simply stop them, but to make them regret setting their sights on Konoha and disturbing peace."

"To make them pack up their mist and their swords and scurry home. And for that, we need every single shinobi and civilian to fight not out of duty, but with desperate passion. We need them to give their all without a single hesitation."

"And how does one inspire such a need?" Orochimaru asked, his tone becoming thoughtful. "On my way to and at the front, I have decided to personally teach those worthy. I will bestow slivers of my… knowledge upon any civilian or clansman who proves they have what it takes. I might even take on a few disciples."

He let his gaze lock onto Hiruzen's. "But knowledge alone is a stale ration. What truly motivates a soul staring into the abyss of war is the promise of a reward before the abyss stares back."

"For this, I need the power to promote. Not at the end of the war in a dreary ceremony, but in the heat of the moment! I want to be able to look a promising Chunin in the eye after a successful mission and say, 'Congratulations, you are now a Jonin. Now go do it again.' We must make them understand that excellence will be met with immediate recognition, because in war, tomorrow is a luxury no one can afford."

He finished with a flourish that was almost, but not quite, sincere. "You must trust me, Sensei. I am not some frivolous person who promotes based on a whim. I will only elevate those who truly deserve it. You have my word."

Around the table, seasoned shinobi and clan elders exchanged glances that screamed, "Is this a genjutsu? Should I poke him to see if he dispels it?"

The Orochimaru they knew was a man of devastatingly efficient words. He'd give you a mission, and if you asked "why," you'd be met with a stare that could curdle milk and a simple, "Because I require it."

This new, talkative, almost… motivational-speaker version was utterly terrifying.

Hiruzen Sarutobi, the "God of Shinobi," puffed thoughtfully on his pipe. His sensory skills were among the finest in the land, the very reason he'd perfected the Telescope Technique.

He could feel the unique, cold, and sinuous chakra signature that was unmistakably Orochimaru. This was no imposter. Which led to only one, terrifyingly logical conclusion.

His research, Hiruzen thought, a cold dread trickling down his spine. It must have yielded a monumental breakthrough.

Something so profound it had put him in a… good mood. What in all the Ninja World could make Orochimaru this pleased?

The only thing Hiruzen could imagine was that his disciple had finally overcome his greatest obsession: his lack of a Kekkei Genkai.

The thought that Orochimaru might have engineered one for himself was enough to make the Hokage's blood run cold.

What Hiruzen couldn't sense was the magnificent, multi-layered chess game unfolding in Orochimaru's mind. The Snake Sannin had no intention of dying for Konoha, nor was he trembling at the thought of offending some clan elder if it meant lowering his chances of taking the Hokage's seat.

By obtaining the power to promote, he could reward pure, unvarnished competence. He would promote a talented Uchiha without a second thought for "clan balance," earning their fierce loyalty.

He would create a cadre of shinobi personally indebted to him, who saw him as a fair, if ruthless, meritocrat. It was the perfect long-term investment.

If he decided to leave this "black hole of politics and restrictions," he wouldn't be a rogue missing-nin slinking away in the night.

He would be a visionary leader, betrayed by the village's bureaucracy, potentially taking Konoha's best and brightest with him.

And the doubts of the old men in this room? The suspicious glances? He reveled in them. He was practically daring someone to provoke him, to give him a righteous excuse to snatch the Forbidden Sealing Scroll and bid a dramatic, damning farewell to this gilded cage.

(END OF THE CHAPTER)

I have ADHD and have probably done like a hundred Naruto fanfics with one chapter or so about new ideas that came into my mind. I also want to give this a try in my free time.