Naruto: System of Zoro

Chapter 28 - The Stirred Uchiha Syōma

The atmosphere inside the Uchiha Clan's reception hall grew heavy, thick with unspoken tension. The polished wooden floor gleamed under the dim lighting, the flickering lanterns casting long, wavering shadows against the walls. At the head of the room, Uchiha Syōma sat, his expression carved from stone as he regarded the unwelcome visitor before him.

Orochimaru, ever the enigma, stood with his usual air of detached amusement, his serpentine eyes gleaming as if he were a predator who had slithered into a den of lions, unafraid.

Syōma's fingers drummed lightly against the lacquered table between them, but the measured rhythm did little to mask the irritation simmering beneath his composed exterior. His patience had already worn thin.

"Orochimaru, if you've come just to mock me, you can leave now," Syōma said, his voice sharp as a blade. He turned slightly, eyes flicking toward one of his men. "Izumi, see our guest out."

The moment the order left his lips, the tension in the room shifted. The Uchiha guards stationed nearby tensed, their hands subtly moving toward their weapons. Izumi, the shinobi who had escorted Orochimaru in, took a step forward, ready to follow through.

But Orochimaru remained unfazed.

"Syōma-dono, aren't you at least curious why I'm here?"

His voice was calm, deliberate. It carried no urgency, no aggression—just the quiet confidence of a man who knew he had something his audience needed. He didn't even glance at Izumi, as if the order to remove him had been nothing more than a passing breeze.

Syōma's brow twitched ever so slightly. Orochimaru was an infuriating man. His presence alone was grating, but what was worse was the gnawing sense that he was playing a game no one else could see.

"The Third Shinobi War has begun," Orochimaru continued, his lips curling into a faint smirk. "I've come to discuss a potential alliance. Don't you want the Uchiha clan to gain a foothold in Konoha's upper ranks?"

Syōma exhaled a short, humorless laugh.

"An alliance?" He leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing. "What wind brings you here, Orochimaru? And what exactly gives you the confidence to promise the Uchiha clan a seat in Konoha's leadership? Your Hokage-sensei? The very man who works hardest to suppress us?"

Though his tone was laced with mockery, Syōma gestured for Izumi to stand down. He wasn't dismissing Orochimaru's words outright—not yet.

"Hmph. You're not wrong," Orochimaru admitted, unbothered by the accusation. "My teacher has indeed been holding the Uchiha clan back." His smirk widened. "But do you have a choice? Only I can bring your clan to the battlefield."

His next words came slowly, deliberately, each one sinking into the air like a stone into still water.

"The Land of Lightning and the Land of Earth have declared war on Konoha. Jiraiya, along with the Ino-Shika-Chō trio, will lead our forces against the Cloud. Meanwhile, I have been tasked with leading the battle against Iwagakure, commanding a force of two thousand Chunin and Genin, alongside Jonin like Moonlight."

Syōma's eyes darkened slightly, but he remained silent.

Orochimaru pressed on.

"Jiraiya and the Ino-Shika-Chō will dominate the battlefield in the Land of Lightning—there's no place for the Uchiha there."

The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. Syōma's silence was telling. He had just learned of this war, meaning the orders from the Hokage had not yet reached him. That alone was significant.

Orochimaru's smirk remained, though his gaze was as piercing as a blade. There was a vast difference between the Uchiha volunteering for war and being ordered into it. If Syōma did not act swiftly, the Hokage would make the decision for him, stripping him of any leverage his clan might have had.

Syōma's fingers stilled against the tabletop.

"Hmph. Even if we are not sent to fight the Cloud, we could simply remain in Konoha, guarding the village as part of the Police Force... Why should we risk our lives on the battlefield for you?"

His gaze sharpened.

"Besides, Sarutobi only gave you ten Jonin and two thousand lower-ranked shinobi? Seems like he's already abandoned you."

There was an unmistakable weight behind those words. Syōma was not a man to be threatened lightly, especially not in his own domain. Though the Hokage always maintained a polite front when dealing with him, Orochimaru had come here with no such pretense.

If not for three inconvenient truths—Orochimaru's status as the Third Hokage's student, his Kage-level strength, and the fact that the Uchiha were still bound to Konoha—Syōma would have already put an end to this conversation, permanently.

But there was no "if."

Orochimaru let out a quiet chuckle.

"Syōma-dono, can't you see the fate of the Senju?" he mused. "When Konoha was founded, the Senju were just as powerful as the Uchiha. Yet after the Second Hokage's death, they faded into obscurity. Now, aside from Tsunade, can you even name another Senju of significance?"

He took a step forward, his presence growing more suffocating, like a predator cornering its prey.

"Are you so certain the Uchiha will fare any better?"

Syōma's eyes flickered with something unreadable, but his jaw tightened ever so slightly. The room seemed colder now, the air laced with unspoken realizations.

Orochimaru was right.

The Senju, once Konoha's strongest clan, had all but disappeared, their power absorbed into the village until they were nothing more than a name in history. If the Uchiha did not act, they would suffer the same fate.

Syōma's expression remained unreadable, but the silence stretched long enough to confirm what Orochimaru had hoped. The clan leader was considering his words.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Syōma exhaled, the air in the room shifting ever so slightly.

"I will hear you out," he said at last, "But if your offer does not satisfy me, you won't be leaving so easily."

The weight of his words was punctuated by the unmistakable surge of killing intent that filled the room. The Uchiha guards stiffened, their hands hovering near their weapons once more, their eyes locked onto Orochimaru like wolves awaiting their master's signal.

Orochimaru simply smiled.

"It's simple. My sensei has promised that if I secure victory in the Land of Earth, he will make me the Fourth Hokage."

He paused deliberately, for effect.

"And when I become Hokage… I will take your grandson as my disciple and personally ensure he becomes the Fifth Hokage. Is that enough sincerity for you?"

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken calculations. Syōma's sharp gaze flickered—just for a moment. It was impossible to ignore the temptation laced within those words.

The position of Hokage had always been kept out of the Uchiha's reach, no matter how capable they were. Even the great Uchiha Madara had been denied. But now, here was Orochimaru, extending an opportunity so alluring that even Syōma found it difficult to remain unmoved.

Still, he was no fool.

"And why should I trust you?" Syōma countered. "What makes you think I won't seek another ally instead?"

Orochimaru's smile deepened, his amusement clear.

"You have no choice... And neither do I."

With measured ease, he placed both hands on the lacquered table, his posture commanding, yet never outright aggressive. He loomed over Syōma ever so slightly, enough to unsettle but not provoke.

"In Konoha, only I can help you. And only you have the power to help me."

A long silence stretched between them, each man weighing the risks, the possibilities, the consequences of this unspoken pact.

Then, at last, Syōma let out a cold snort.

"Remember your promise. Tomorrow, I'll have Fuchu bring Itachi to meet you. Izumi, see him out."

Though he had agreed, Syōma refused to let it seem as though he had been cornered into this decision. With a dismissive wave of his hand, he acted as though the arrangement had been his choice all along.

Orochimaru chuckled softly, the sound a low, almost mocking murmur.

"Haha, no need to trouble yourself, Syōma-dono. The official orders will arrive soon. I look forward to our cooperation."

Without so much as a glance at Izumi, he turned and strode out of the Uchiha compound, his presence vanishing into the night as easily as a serpent slipping back into the underbrush.

Syōma remained seated long after the doors slid shut. His fingers tapped against the table in a slow, thoughtful rhythm, his expression unreadable.

"The Fifth Hokage, huh…" he murmured under his breath.

---

That Night – Hatake Clan Residence

By midday, the news of war had spread throughout Konoha, carried on the wind like an omen. The Third Shinobi War was no longer just a distant storm—it was here, pressing against the village's walls, waiting to swallow them all.

Orders had already begun to trickle in. Kazane had received his that afternoon: at dawn, he would leave with the vanguard, marching toward the Land of Earth's border. If all went according to plan, they would reach the battlefield by the third morning.

Perhaps that was why, as night fell, the Hatake residence was unusually lively.

Kazane had gathered his friends for a feast—not a grand celebration, but a gathering of comrades, of young shinobi who knew that by the next time they met, some of them might not be there. The atmosphere was a strange blend of festivity and melancholy, laughter woven with the unspoken weight of uncertainty.

The scent of grilled meat and simmering broth filled the air, and the warmth of the hearth softened the reality looming over them. Plates clattered, voices overlapped, and for a moment, it almost felt like any other gathering of Konoha's young shinobi.

Kazane sat near the center of the room, cup in hand, watching the scene unfold with a small, contented smile. Then, raising his cup of juice as if it were the finest sake, he grinned.

"Tonight might be our last time together like this. Next time we meet, I expect to see a bunch of you promoted to Chunin or even Jonin! Don't forget about me when you outrank me, alright?"

Across the table, Uchiha Obito smacked his palm against the wooden surface with an exaggerated huff.

"Idiot! What kind of nonsense are you spouting?! Even if I become a Jonin, I, the great Obito-sama, will never forget you!"

Laughter rippled through the group.

"Haha, yeah! Speaking of which, you're the first among us heading to the battlefield, right? I'm jealous!"

"If you get promoted, make sure to look after us, alright?"

"Man, must be nice to be Orochimaru-sama's student. I heard he's commanding the forces at the Land of Earth's border."

The conversation swirled around him, a mix of excitement and nerves. Some wore bravado like armor, speaking of promotions and victories as if they had already been won. Others remained quieter, their laughter not quite reaching their eyes.

Kazane listened, absorbing it all.

Then, after a brief pause, he leaned back slightly, his expression thoughtful. His gaze swept over his friends, taking them in—their faces, their voices, the easy way they spoke now, unaware of how war might change them.

He took a sip from his cup before speaking again.

"Since we're all here… what are your dreams?" he asked, his voice quieter this time. "If you don't say them now, you might never get the chance."

A hush fell over the room. It wasn't a question one could answer lightly.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Then, slowly, voices began to rise again, one by one—sharing ambitions, hopes, and the unspoken wish that they would all return alive.