"An immortal? You mean the God of Death?"
After regaining control of his body, Orochimaru's snake-like eyes locked onto the towering figure of the Shinigami.
In the ninja world, immortality is a foreign concept. The Tailed Beasts are merely chakra-based creatures—no one has ever truly heard of a person or ninja achieving eternal life.
But if what the Djinn said was true, then perhaps immortals do exist—just not in the way ordinary people imagine.
Orochimaru's curiosity surged. "Do you know where the Shinigami comes from?"
"Not exactly," the Djinn replied, half-leaning out from Orochimaru's back. "But if we get closer to the Fourth Hokage, I might be able to find out."
Hearing this, Orochimaru abandoned any attempt to conceal his presence and moved swiftly toward the scarlet barrier, landing beside the gathered onlookers—including the Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi.
Shaken by the night's chaotic events, Hiruzen frowned. "Orochimaru… what are you doing here?"
Orochimaru didn't answer. His eyes remained fixed on the scene before him, cold and unreadable, giving his full attention to the Djinn.
The smoky figure on his back suddenly collapsed into a sphere. From it, a thin thread of smoke shot forward, bypassing the barrier effortlessly and wrapping itself around the Shinigami's neck.
A blurry face emerged at the tip of the thread—but the God of Death didn't even react.
Orochimaru licked his lips, a flicker of surprise flashing through his expression. What kind of being is this Djinn?
As the Nine-Tails sealing ritual concluded, the Shinigami vanished. At the same moment, the smoke-thread followed him, piercing into the void and extending toward some unknown dimension.
Orochimaru assumed this exploration would take time, but within seconds, the smoke thread retracted. The Djinn reformed into its human shape on his back.
"Don't look at me like that," the Djinn said with a soft cough. "I barely made it in time, but I learned everything I needed."
Orochimaru's eyes lit up. "You found where the Shinigami resides?"
"Indeed," the Djinn replied, a sly smile on his face. "He dwells in the Promised Land of All Souls." He paused, then added, "You'd probably recognize it by another name: the Pure Land."
"Many great figures, ones you'd never expect, are preserved in the Pure Land."
"If you master the art of spirit separation, you too could travel there. The environment is extremely favorable for chakra-based soul forms."
At those words, Orochimaru turned his head toward the Djinn in disbelief, ignoring the presence of the other shinobi nearby.
The Pure Land—the place where souls go after death. In the minds of most ninja, it was the resting place of the dead.
But according to the Djinn, it was much more than that.
Not just a final destination, but a reachable space—like the three Sacred Lands of the summoned beasts. With the right technique, one could enter it.
Orochimaru committed the name of the technique—Spiritualization—to memory. Then, in a more serious tone, he asked again about the origin of the Shinigami.
He needed to know more about this eternal entity who ruled the Pure Land.
Even someone as powerful as the First Hokage, Senju Hashirama, couldn't freely come and go from the Pure Land after death without the support of a Reanimation Jutsu. Just what kind of existence was this Shinigami that defied those rules?
Orochimaru posed the question, and the Djinn gave a clear answer:
"The Shinigami possesses a special bloodline. He is a descendant of the Otsutsuki clan."
Orochimaru frowned slightly. "The Otsutsuki clan?"
"Yes. The towering horned ones," the Djinn said. "They are visitors from beyond the stars. One of them, the Sage of Six Paths, established the foundation of the shinobi system. Without him, the current ninja world wouldn't exist."
The Djinn figured it was better to explain now than later, and so he gave a brief summary of the alien invasion that reshaped shinobi history.
"There are no pure-blooded Otsutsuki left in the world today. But now and then, some lucky few 'revert to their ancestors' through bloodline resonance. Golden and Silver Brothers, for example—those two were among the few who inherited traces of that alien power, and they were strong enough to kill both the Second Hokage and the Second Raikage."
"This Shinigami," he continued, "is likely one of those who inherited an especially powerful strain of the Otsutsuki bloodline. Stronger than Ginkaku and Kinkaku, by far."
Orochimaru chuckled bitterly. "So that's all there is to it? The Shinigami is a god just because of his blood? Just because he's the descendant of aliens?"
"That's how it's always been in the shinobi world," the Djinn said with a shrug. "But don't look down on yourself. This isn't something sheer effort can change."
In truth, the Otsutsuki clan represented a complete mismatch of civilizations. Whether in terms of bloodline, power, or technology, they were in a league of their own. The shinobi world had grown through thousands of years of warfare, and still couldn't close that gap.
Yes, there had been powerful shinobi—Senju, Uchiha, others—but those were exceptions. They weren't the product of progress so much as diluted echoes of the Otsutsuki blood.
Even Naruto and Sasuke, the supposed saviors of the future, only reached their peak after regaining the ancestral power of the Sage of Six Paths. Once again, it wasn't their own effort that made them stand above all—it was inheritance.
The Djinn didn't like that narrative. He hated the idea of destiny, of nobility by birth. It went against his very nature.
Orochimaru's expression darkened and shifted. "So what you're saying is, instead of developing new ninjutsu, we should focus on rediscovering and inheriting the remnants of the Otsutsuki legacy?"
"Exactly," the Djinn replied. "It's not about blind inheritance—it's about taking what's useful, discarding what's not, and crafting a new generation of ninjutsu unique to this world."
He gave a sly thumbs-up. "I'm quite optimistic about you."
As the two continued their cryptic exchange, the crimson barrier sealing the Nine-Tails finally shattered, a sign that the Fourth Hokage had passed.
ANBU agents rushed forward to assess the situation. Their expressions grew grim as they confirmed the deaths of Minato and Kushina.
In that moment, the Third Hokage's face seemed to age a decade.
"Waaaaah!"
Naruto's wailing continued, but none of the ANBU dared to approach. It was as if the child was a bomb about to explode, not a newborn.
Hiruzen sighed and stepped forward—only for another figure to move faster.
Orochimaru appeared beside the infant in a blur, scooping Naruto into his arms like a curious scientist discovering a new specimen.
The Djinn had said the Uzumaki clan carried the legacy of the Six Paths, their bloodline blessed with a "Sage's Body" much like the Senju. And now this child, with half of the Nine-Tails sealed within him… what a fascinating combination.
The Third Hokage's voice turned sharp. "Orochimaru, what are you doing?"
The surrounding ANBU braced themselves, sweat forming on their brows. Instinctively, their hands went to their weapons.
"Old man, the kid's parents are dead. He has no one left. Isn't that tragic?"
Orochimaru smiled darkly. "I want to raise him myself. What do you say?"
Hiruzen didn't hesitate. "Absolutely not. That's out of the question."
"Tch. Fine."
Orochimaru didn't argue. After gently calming the crying baby, he handed Naruto over to the Third.
The tension in the air faded. Hiruzen's shoulders relaxed slightly, and the ANBU lowered their hands.
But before leaving, Orochimaru said one last thing.
"Old man… call Jiraiya back. Someone's eyeing Konoha… and its Jinchūriki."
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