The operation was swift and clean. In less than a minute, the eye transplant was complete—Uchiha Shinsuke's Sharingan now had a new owner.
Orochimaru blinked slowly as the initial discomfort faded. "Tsk, tsk… Pupil-based kekkei genkai really are convenient."
He wiped the residual fluid from the corners of his eyes, then began testing the newly acquired Sharingan with obvious fascination.
Observation. Copying. Hypnosis.
As expected, the Setsurengan didn't require any special stimulation to function. The activation process was seamless—no dramatic eye-opening moment. Just a conscious draw of chakra toward the pupils, as simple as channeling it into any other part of the body.
In short, the eyes were fully functional. No backlash, no rejection. It was as if they were his own.
Off to the side, Kabuto carefully placed Orochimaru's original eyes into a nutrient tank. Watching this, he adjusted his glasses silently.
Orochimaru glanced at him sideways, smiling. "What is it? Worried I've taken too much interest in Uchiha Shinsuke's eyes?"
With the enhanced perception of the Sharingan—and his training in Sage techniques—Orochimaru could easily detect even the faintest emotional shifts. Kabuto's reaction hadn't gone unnoticed.
Under the weight of those blood-red eyes, Kabuto didn't flinch. His expression remained calm.
"It should be an honor for Uchiha Shinsuke to lend his eyes to you, Lord Orochimaru."
Orochimaru chuckled, "But an honor better left unreceived, perhaps?"
His gaze sharpened with amusement. "Seems like you two got along during your time together."
Kabuto opened his mouth to reply, but Orochimaru cut him off, tapping his temple lightly.
"These eyes are more sensitive than ordinary Sharingan. They don't just perceive movement and chakra—they can pick up on emotion."
"You may be a skilled spy, but don't put too much faith in your mask. The shinobi world is vast, and you're not the only one who knows how to read people."
Kabuto looked away instinctively, his expression stiffening. But it wasn't Orochimaru he was worried about.
If the Sharingan could read emotions… then Shinsuke, the original owner, likely could as well.
"Kabuto," Orochimaru said, his voice softer now, the teasing tone gone. "You know I've been using you. That much is true. But I don't care if you find shelter elsewhere. Like Yamato—you could start over."
Kabuto lifted his head, offering a faint smile. Not the usual hollow one, but a bitter, honest expression full of self-mockery.
"There's no need," he said quietly. "I don't deserve it."
Nonō Yakushi was dead. Kabuto's hands were stained with blood. How could he chase something like happiness while standing on the corpse of the person who saved him?
That's why he didn't mind being used by Orochimaru.
He had chosen a life of emptiness—because that's all he believed he was worth.
This was, from the start, a punishment.
"Also," Orochimaru muttered, glancing sideways at Kabuto before turning back to continue testing the newly acquired powers of the Setsurengan. He spoke to the Djinn on his back. "So? Can you copy the Setsurengan at this stage?"
The Djinn leaned forward, a clear smile playing on his lips. "Recording's almost complete. As long as your body can handle it, I can help you awaken your own Setsurengan anytime."
Orochimaru's eyes gleamed with surprise. "Excellent."
He didn't need to covet Uchiha Shinsuke's eyes after all. With the Djinn's help, he could acquire his own pupil-based kekkei genkai.
After all, the Sharingan and its variants were ultimately just a fusion of yang release (physical energy) and yin release (spiritual energy). Every ninja had both, and Orochimaru was no exception. The problem lay in the strength of these forces. The Uchiha and Senju clans held natural advantages—most others, like Orochimaru, did not.
But now, with his perfect fusion of the First Hokage's cells and a soul restored from the Pure Land, that barrier no longer mattered.
"Actually," the Djinn added with a sly tone, "you'd be better off recording the Sharingan's stages—from one tomoe to three. Trying to leap straight to the Setsurengan might be too aggressive. With a proper progression, the burden could be far lower—maybe even negligible."
Orochimaru gave him a sidelong glance, then finished the thought for him: "And recording the evolution from a single tomoe Sharingan to the Setsurengan would benefit your future host as well, wouldn't it?"
The Djinn didn't deny it. He nodded with a casual smile. "Naturally."
Orochimaru sighed. Even though he already knew it, he still couldn't get used to the Djinn's shameless honesty.
It grated on him—he'd work tirelessly to achieve something groundbreaking, and the Djinn's future host would reap the benefits with no effort at all. That bitterness was hard to ignore.
But on the flip side, if he helped build a stronger foundation for the Djinn, he'd gain access to greater resources and more possibilities. It was hard to say who'd really get the better end of the deal in the long run.
Damn it… either way, the winner was still the Djinn.
Once again, Orochimaru was reminded of that truth.
Still, valuable insight was valuable insight. The Djinn's suggestions held merit.
Using a paper bomb to kill a mosquito might seem excessive. Using a butcher's cleaver to slice pork could feel like overkill. But from the user's point of view, the result was efficient and clean.
Why had so many Uchiha members fallen to madness? It was simple—the body couldn't support the weight of their mental power. Their minds outpaced their vessels, and eventually, everything broke.
Learning from the past, Orochimaru would not repeat the same mistake.
…
After transplanting Uchiha Shinsuke's Setsurengan, Kabuto injected him with an antidote. Moments later, Shinsuke stirred awake.
He sat up, blinking, and looked around the lab. "Lord Orochimaru? Is it done? Are we proceeding with more tests?"
"There's no next step," Orochimaru said, pointing to his own forehead. "The testing is complete."
Shinsuke blinked, puzzled. Then realization dawned on him. Orochimaru had used his own body to perform the tests.
As a scientist, Shinsuke knew that firsthand data was far more accurate than secondhand observation. Even so… there was something unsettling about having his eyes treated like tools.
Still, this was Orochimaru. Anyone else, and Shinsuke might have lost his temper.
Also, the eye transplant had been so smooth he hadn't even noticed. Their surgical technique was impeccable.
Seeing Shinsuke's uneasy expression, Orochimaru grinned—but his tone grew more serious.
"Compared to the standard Sharingan, your Setsurengan are already a mature kekkei genkai. That's a good thing… but it also means they're unprotected."
He licked his lips.
"When I tested your abilities, I didn't need to use any enhancements or tricks. That means others—Jonin, even Kage-level shinobi—could do the same. Your eyes could be taken and used freely."
Orochimaru patted him on the shoulder, smiling again.
"Like the Byakugan of the Hyuga, your eyes may soon become something others covet."
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