Orochimaru’s Magic Lamp

As a master of body modification, Orochimaru understood better than anyone the many forbidden techniques scattered across the shinobi world that could restore lost limbs.

Tsunade, for instance—if she were cut in half, so long as the halves were joined in time, she could regenerate completely.

There were also black-market medical jutsu, like Body Regeneration and Cell Activation, capable of reconstructing even a body torn to shreds.

…

But all of these techniques demanded advanced medical knowledge—knowledge not easily acquired.

The silver-haired boy in front of him clearly wasn't that kind of prodigy.

Orochimaru trusted his instincts. This young man didn't give off the aura of a scholarly genius. If anything, his nature leaned more toward brute force than intellect. There was no way he'd studied complex medical theory or chakra systems.

Which raised a very interesting question: How was he able to use such regeneration techniques? Was it something granted to him by the cult's so-called "Evil God"?

Orochimaru licked his lips, his thoughts racing, eyes sparkling with a twisted excitement.

Most people would recoil from Orochimaru's intense, predatory gaze—at the very least, they'd feel a chill run down their spine. But Hidan? Hidan had the same kind of unshakable ego as Guy. He stared back with open disdain.

"If you want to test me, go ahead," Hidan scoffed, lifting his chin arrogantly. "But remember—disgusting bastards like you? I'll kill you one day."

Orochimaru chuckled. "So lively. I like that."

He turned and opened a hidden door to the underground lab, disappearing into the darkness.

The moment Orochimaru turned his back, Hidan's eyes flashed coldly. A kunai chained to his wrist sprang out.

But, as expected, the attack missed. The chain was yanked back with enormous force, causing Hidan to stumble.

In a blink, Orochimaru appeared before him, caught his arm, spun, and slammed him into the ground.

The wooden floor cracked. Blood oozed from Hidan's forehead, soaking into the splinters.

Just as he tried to rise, a hand like an iron vice clamped around his throat, pinning him in place. His limbs ached, but despite the pain, Hidan wasn't discouraged.

He hadn't expected to win. This was just a test. He wanted to get a sense of Orochimaru's strength—to prepare for next time.

"Tsk. So disobedient," Orochimaru muttered from the shadows, his golden eyes gleaming. "I don't care about your little games. But once the experiments begin… you'd better behave."

"And what if I don't?" Hidan snapped, muscles tense, pride unbroken.

He didn't fear death. He didn't fear pain. Punishment meant nothing. He'd lived through worse.

Orochimaru fell silent, then grinned.

"If you keep acting out," he said slowly, "I'll throw you into the septic tank."

Hidan's expression froze.

The arrogance on his face wavered slightly. Just imagining being locked in a place like that made his stomach turn.

"You may be immortal, but there are fates worse than death," Orochimaru said with a smirk. "And from what I've seen, you can't regrow certain body parts if they're cut off, can you?"

Hidan clenched his jaw. Of course he could regenerate—but he wasn't about to confirm anything. The man in front of him was too shameless.

He wasn't just a follower of the Evil God—he was still human, with pride. Pain and torture didn't scare him. But Orochimaru's threats weren't about pain; they were about humiliation. And that was something Hidan wouldn't tolerate.

Still… the situation was out of his control.

And so, for now, he backed down.

Orochimaru, sensing the shift, didn't press him further. Forcing Hidan too many times would only push him over the edge. Once someone like him snapped, there'd be no controlling him.

After all, Orochimaru couldn't kill him. And without that leverage, any real control would vanish.

He let go and studied Hidan, now back on his feet, still glaring but a little warier.

"You really want to kill me that badly?" Orochimaru asked with a slight smirk.

Hidan scoffed. "What if I do?"

"Then I'll give you a chance," Orochimaru offered, raising a finger. "Help me with an experiment. We'll call it even for the failed assassination. Deal?"

A stick only works if you offer a carrot, too. That's what Orochimaru understood.

Hidan paused, visibly considering it.

He knew better than anyone that in the shinobi world, everything came with a price. Pain? Death? That was fine. He could endure it.

And if the price of attacking Orochimaru was just "cooperating in a surgery," well… that was tolerable.

Still, he was pissed.

"Hmph. Since you're begging, I'll do it," Hidan said with his usual arrogance, striding toward the lab.

One day, he thought. One day I'll make you regret underestimating me.

Killing Orochimaru wasn't a question of if, only when. Hidan didn't care about mercy. Life was about hunting the powerful. Without that… what was the point?

Orochimaru smirked as he followed.

Inside the lab, the chandelier lit up, casting light over a single medical bed.

"Take off your shirt and lie down," Orochimaru said casually.

Hidan didn't hesitate. He yanked off his shirt and lay on the bed, arms crossed behind his head.

Orochimaru watched with interest. With other test subjects, he'd have to disinfect or prep the body. But Hidan? He'd spliced himself together in battlefields without issue. This minor surgery would be nothing.

"You probably don't need anesthesia," he said.

"Just get on with it," Hidan replied, unbothered.

"Very well," Orochimaru whispered, scalpel in hand, golden eyes glinting. "Try not to move."

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