Chapter 37 - Growth and Changes

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“We’ve already decided,” Mi Blade said with cheerful finality, his hand resting atop the enormous white snake’s head as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

He gave the sleek scales a couple of gentle pats, the way one might affectionately tap a friend on the back.

“You’re the coolest one here. What’s your name?”

The white snake, its coils winding menacingly through the dark cavern, narrowed its golden eyes. Its forked tongue flicked out, testing the air, and a low, deliberate hiss escaped its throat.

“Get down, kid.”

Mi Blade didn’t seem to notice the danger lurking in the snake’s voice, or perhaps he simply didn’t care. His grin widened.

“Nope. I’ve got a feeling we’re going to be great pals.” He paused, tilting his head thoughtfully as if pondering something deeply important.

“By the way... are you male or female? You’ve got an elegant look, so I’ll call you Shiro. A.K.A. Little White!”

The white snake’s jaw clenched. Its long body rippled, scales rustling faintly as its temper flared.

“I’M A MALE!” The words came out in a furious roar, the sound reverberating through the cavern.

“I am pure, 100% male.”

Mi Blade blinked but otherwise seemed unfazed. He merely shrugged.

“Shiro still works,” he said easily, clearly satisfied with his decision.

Meanwhile, Kakashi was facing his own predicament—though in a fashion that only Kakashi could pull off.

He had already slapped an explosive tag onto the Red Snake’s head, not with urgency or malice, but with the kind of casual grace that made it seem almost routine. As the paper tag fluttered slightly, he studied the serpent with mild curiosity.

“So,” Kakashi began, his tone polite, almost conversational. “What do you think? Am I handsome?”

The Red Snake stared at him, utterly bewildered. Its forked tongue flickered nervously in and out, as though searching for some reasonable explanation.

But none came. The snake’s head tilted slightly, as if the world had shifted on its axis, and it hadn’t caught up yet.

From across the cave, the White Snake Fairy—until now a picture of calm authority—blinked in astonishment.

Her lips parted slightly, and for the first time, her regal demeanor slipped. She glanced from the Red Snake to Kakashi, clearly unsure whether to intervene or to simply let the moment pass in silence.

In the end, she did neither, her gaze lingering on the explosive tag that now dangled from her subordinate’s head like a misplaced decoration.

Orochimaru stood nearby, arms crossed, his eyes sharp as they scanned the scene unfolding before him. His lips pressed into a thin line, but he said nothing for a long moment, as though trying to absorb the absurdity with quiet dignity.

“This is really happening,” he muttered finally, more to himself than anyone else. His voice carried a trace of disbelief, but also the resignation of someone long accustomed to chaos.

“Psychic contracts are supposed to be sacred. Respected.” His gaze flicked briefly toward Mi Blade, who was still chatting happily with the now thoroughly disgruntled Shiro.

“And yet, here we are.”

The White Snake Immortal, who had been watching with growing disapproval, now gave a slow, deliberate sigh.

Her serpentine eyes closed for a moment, as though she were gathering the last shreds of patience she had left. When she opened them again, there was a cool resignation in her voice.

“It’s fine,” she said, her tone measured but tinged with weariness.

“Fine. Just stop causing trouble.” Her gaze swept briefly over Mi Blade and Kakashi before settling on Orochimaru with a pointed look.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“If these are the ones you’ve picked, then so be it. They can start practicing Senjutsu.”

Mi Blade beamed as though he’d just won a prize, oblivious to the lingering tension in the air. He gave Shiro’s side a playful pat. The white snake groaned faintly, though whether in defeat or lingering fury was anyone’s guess.

Kakashi, on the other hand, raised a hand in a lazy salute, clearly satisfied with his own progress. The Red Snake remained still, its gaze locked on the explosive tag, which flapped gently as though mocking it.

Orochimaru stepped forward, attempting to restore some semblance of professionalism to the situation.

“White Snake Immortal, thank you,” he said with a measured nod. His voice was calm, though beneath it was a trace of the same resignation that had been building since this fiasco began.

“I’ll teach them a few jutsu before they return for Senjutsu training.”

The Immortal’s eyes narrowed, her expression one of long-suffering.

“Absolutely not,” she snapped, her voice colder now.

“Do you have any idea how chaotic these two are? You’ll be lucky if the cave is still standing by the time they leave.”

Orochimaru’s brow furrowed slightly, but he knew better than to argue. Instead, he cast a glance at his two students.

Mi Blade was practically vibrating with enthusiasm, while Kakashi seemed content to let his snake ponder its fate in stunned silence. Orochimaru sighed softly.

Mi Blade, completely unaware of the weight of the moment, flashed another wide grin.

“We’re going to be an unstoppable team, Shiro!” he declared, to the sound of a faint hiss of protest from his new companion.

Kakashi leaned back against the cave wall, crossing his arms with a look of easy satisfaction. The Red Snake, however, had yet to move, its gaze still fixed on the explosive tag now stuck to its head.

The White Snake Immortal, watching it all with a mixture of irritation and reluctant acceptance, folded her arms tightly across her chest.

“Orochimaru,” she said slowly, “if they destroy anything, it’s on you.”

Orochimaru sighed again. He had once imagined that training these two would bring him glory, perhaps even further cement his legacy. Instead, he was left wondering if he should have left them back in Konoha.

___________

In Konohagakure, the three renowned masters and their enthusiastic disciples gathered at the Hatake residence for a feast that would impress even the most discerning connoisseur.

Mi Blade, ever the performer, took the opportunity to entertain Sakumo Hatake with tales of the enigmatic Ryuchi Cave.

“Allow me to regale you,” Mi Blade began, gesturing theatrically with his chopsticks as if conducting an elaborate symphony.

“Entering Ryuchi Cave was akin to stepping into a ninja-themed amusement park. There were giant serpents, illusions that defied logic, and enough surreal moments to make even a piñata seem like a work of serious art. At one point, I felt as though I had wandered into a poorly conceived horror film!” He paused dramatically, twirling his chopsticks as though preparing to unveil a grand revelation.

Sakumo responded with hearty laughter, raising his steaming bowl of ramen in a mock toast to Orochimaru.

“I owe you my gratitude, Orochimaru! You’ve introduced my son to a realm of bizarre and wondrous experiences. If only the shinobi world fostered camaraderie through such eccentric adventures, we’d be conducting strange rituals—perhaps cutting off our heads and burning yellow paper—in no time! It would be like celebrating Halloween every day.”

Mi Blade, adopting a more thoughtful expression, added with feigned seriousness, “Do we even have yellow paper in the shinobi world? I was under the impression we only dealt in scrolls and ramen. Perhaps I should create a scroll filled with ramen recipes and consider it my contribution to the world.”

For the following days, Kakashi, much to Mi Blade's amusement, seemed to abandon his obsessive habit of scanning the ground during training.

Whether he had become more focused in his efforts or had retreated into solitude due to lingering fears from the illusionary traps, it was unclear.

He had, however, become a master of avoiding unnecessary interaction, emerging from his room only when the enticing aroma of food drifted through the door.

This shift in behavior suited Mi Blade well, as his own training regime had become increasingly demanding, leaving him with little time to entertain Kakashi's antics.

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Every few days, Orochimaru would make an appearance as though he were a mysterious mentor in a melodramatic ninja drama, complete with an air of suspense and the implied sound of background music heralding his arrival.

His entrances were so elaborate that it seemed he should have arrived under a spotlight with a theme song playing in the background.

“Alright!” Orochimaru proclaimed one day, adopting the tone of a circus ringmaster about to introduce the grand finale.

“Today, we shall learn the art of ‘Earth Escape.’ Who wouldn’t want the ability to vanish beneath the ground like a ninja mole? Think of the possibilities—no need for shovels; we shall become ninjas with a talent for burrowing!”

He gestured toward the earth with exaggerated enthusiasm, as if revealing the latest attraction at a grand exhibition.

The disciples exchanged uncertain glances, both intrigued and wary of what this new technique might entail.

After all, if Kakashi had struggled with a mere illusion, how would he fare when asked to disappear underground like some sort of ninja gopher?

“Prepare yourselves to dig deep!” Orochimaru declared, his eyes gleaming with mischief. The students, unsure whether they were learning a crucial ninjutsu technique or embarking on a career in underground excavation, hesitantly prepared for the lesson.

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After mastering the fine art of Earth Escape, the next set of challenges lay before them: Water Escape, Fire Escape, and Wind Escape—each sounding more like an elemental cooking class than actual ninja training.

Mi Blade half-expected Orochimaru to don a chef’s hat and start whipping up some elemental soufflés.

“Next, we’ll be learning sealing techniques!” Orochimaru declared dramatically, throwing his hands into the air as though he were unveiling the next big act at a magic show.

“What’s next? Sealing your lunch?” Mi Blade quipped, already picturing himself wrapping up leftovers in an ancient scroll, like a ninja foodie preparing for a culinary battle.

“With this technique,” he said, rubbing his hands together with the glee of a child who’d just discovered a hidden stash of candy,

“you can transfer your consciousness to another person and live like a leech! Think of it as pseudo-longevity—minus all the pesky health benefits!”

Mi Blade and Kakashi exchanged skeptical glances.

“Uh, Master Orochimaru,” Kakashi ventured cautiously, “if we inhabit someone else’s body, will we still be… us?”

Orochimaru’s smile wavered for a moment. He had hoped to impart some profound wisdom, something along the lines of,

“As long as your thoughts remain your own, you are still you!” But the words got stuck in his throat, like a piece of ramen lodged in a wayward noodle, and he ultimately just shook his head and waved off the question with a chuckle.

“Just remember, if you wake up one morning craving pickles and ballet lessons, you might want to reconsider switching back.”

At this, both disciples erupted into laughter, realizing that this jutsu was not just powerful but rather suspicious.

After all, how would you explain to your friends that you suddenly had a newfound passion for knitting and a pet goldfish named Mr. Fluffy?

In his mind, Orochimaru found himself grappling with a moral crisis of epic proportions.

“Am I losing my way? Am I the villain for studying such dark ninjutsu?” He recalled sharing his ambitious plans with his former teacher, Sarutobi, who had looked at him as if he had just suggested they open a ninja-themed clown school.

It was no surprise he ended up cursed!

Noticing the storm cloud of existential dread brewing over Orochimaru’s head, Mi Blade decided to step in as the unofficial ninja therapist.

With a grin, he said, “You know, instead of going down the dark path of body-snatching, why not just clone yourself? You could use your own body cells to create a version of yourself that’s… slightly less creepy!”

Orochimaru frowned in contemplation.

“Clone myself? That sounds… oddly convenient.”

After a moment of silence, a slow smile spread across his face, as if the sun were breaking through after a long, dreary night.

“Hmm, I’ll have to study that! Imagine an army of me! Just think of the productivity! I could have one Orochimaru studying ninjutsu, another perfecting some groundbreaking research!”

Mi Blade chuckled, shaking his head.

“Just remember, though, no one wants to deal with the ‘you’ who loves knitting cat sweaters or the one that hoards snacks like a squirrel preparing for winter.”

As Mi Blade contemplated saving Orochimaru from his potential anime villain fate, he couldn’t help but think, You can betray the village all you want, but let’s keep it in moderation.

We wouldn’t want to give that silly author too many plot holes to deal with later! Otherwise, they might just pull a plot twist out of thin air like a ninja with a smoke bomb.