Naruto : I Can Evolve My Gene Infinitely

Uchiha Obito had been raised under the pacifist wing of the clan, trained within the Academy, and graduated at the age of eleven. Compared to prodigies like Uchiha Shisui, who graduated at nine, Obito barely registered within clan circles.

Now under the tutelage of Minato Namikaze, Obito remained a genin even a year after graduation—only recently promoted to chunin. At thirteen, his presence in the clan was negligible.

"I remember him... he participated in the last Chunin Exams," Shisui said. "An Uchiha, but his reputation isn't great."

In truth, that assessment was generous. Obito had always been the underachiever—the shame of the clan. Bullied and mocked, denied entry to the clan shrine. Unacknowledged. A nonentity.

His clan file bore the lowest classification: Rank F. Unfit for cultivation.

Anyone who reached thirteen without awakening their Sharingan was considered useless by the elders—written off.

"He'll be our first candidate," Rin said calmly. "But before that, there's something else you must do."

Shisui tilted his head. "What is it?"

"Take back your eyes."

Rin's voice was quiet but sharp, like steel drawn in shadow.

"No Uchiha eye must fall into the hands of outsiders."

He gripped his cup with subtle force and drank. Shisui bowed his head.

"Yes, Vanguard."

He could feel the meaning behind Rin's words—protection, resolve, retribution.

Outside Konoha, deep within the woods, a dense forest cloaked writhing serpents in gloom and foliage.

Beneath the surface, in the damp belly of an underground cavern, Orochimaru cradled a treasure.

Two blood-red Sharingan floated in a suspension chamber. Their three tomoe swirled like polished black obsidian in crimson glass.

"Not even Danzo could get his hands on a pair like this," he mused. "Three-tomoe, fully matured… How unexpected."

He narrowed his eyes.

"Still… fusion with the First Hokage's cells isn't going smoothly. Why would Tobirama ever think a Sharingan could stabilize Hashirama's chakra?"

Orochimaru flipped through research notes, brow furrowed with doubt over Danzo's proposed methods. Yet he had little choice but to follow Danzo's lead—the man possessed vast archives from Tobirama's experiments. No one knew more about Hashirama cells than him.

"Orochimaru-sama, perhaps the next step is transplanting the eyes into a human subject. We've replicated all of Tobirama's procedures, but there's no better option."

His assistant barely finished speaking before the atmosphere shifted.

A squad member stumbled into the room, breath ragged.

"Emergency! Root has breached the base!"

Orochimaru's golden eyes narrowed. The air carried a strange scent—betrayal. He turned to his assistant.

"You sold me out?"

Before the man could respond, Orochimaru noticed his hand reaching for the Sharingan container.

He released the man's throat, snatched the vial off the surgical tray, and—without pause—swallowed the entire thing.

Danzo stepped into the chamber, calm and shadowed.

"Orochimaru," he said coldly. "So, you've been collecting Sharingan. Do you think Hiruzen will protect you if the Uchiha learn you murdered one of their own?"

"So it was you…"

Orochimaru's voice turned to ice. He extended his hand—his wrist unfurling into a black viper. It lashed forward, biting into the traitorous assistant's neck. The man choked and collapsed.

"Hand over the eyes, and I'll continue to support your research," Danzo said. "Refuse… and you'll be labeled a missing-nin. Konoha will tear you apart."

Danzo, master of Root, rarely encountered resistance. Even the Hokage turned a blind eye to his games.

But Orochimaru only laughed.

"You? Threaten me?"

Even cornered, betrayed, and surrounded, Orochimaru remained composed. Every motion oozed elegance and menace.

He retrieved the now-empty vial from his throat and twirled it between his fingers, taunting Danzo with the knowledge that the Sharingan were safe—inside him.

"Come and get them, then."

"Attack," Danzo growled.

"Earth Style: Headhunter Jutsu!"

One of the Root agents dove beneath the floor, erupting beneath Orochimaru to drag him under. The Sannin melted into a serpent mid-drag, coiling around the attacker and swallowing him whole.

"Lord Orochimaru, I demand ten sacrifices today. That last one counts as one."

Manda's voice rumbled through the cave.

The giant snake's slitted eyes scanned the Root ninja, tongue flickering.

When it spotted Danzo, it hissed gleefully.

"Well, well... an old friend."

Manda remembered this man. He'd fed it many offerings in exchange for power.

Danzo shed his cloak, revealing hardened armor and battle gear beneath.

"Wind Style: Gale Burst!"

His jutsu tore through the chamber, blowing apart shelves, tables, instruments. Orochimaru winced—years of research, reduced to rubble.

"Shadow Snake Hands."

Snakes burst from Orochimaru's sleeves, lashing against the wind toward Danzo.

"You'll die here unless you surrender the eyes," Danzo said flatly.

One Root operative drew a blade and cleaved through the snakes with surgical precision.

"Twelve elite Root agents," Orochimaru noted aloud, scanning his enemies. "So it's war, is it?"

"Sealing Formation: Four Violet Flames!"

Four Root members formed a square. Pillars of violet chakra surged skyward, encasing the lab in a burning barrier.

"I'm done here," Manda growled. "Send me the other eight sacrifices by post."

After swallowing one more agent, the great snake coiled back into the shadows and disappeared.

Orochimaru's brow furrowed.

Something was wrong.