As we walked down the silent hallway, our footsteps barely audible against the polished stone, I remembered.
I remembered the weight of the Ferreira name. The burden of maintaining a flawless image for a pharmaceutical company that drained more than capital: it drained life. I had spent my youth holding up an empire I didn't build, sacrificing every personal desire in the name of a family that never truly understood me. I was always just another cog in the machine: elegant but expendable, useful but disposable. And in that pristine cage of success, I slowly faded away.
I still couldn't believe it. The air felt different. Cleaner. Denser. As if it were made of ink and chakra. I kept expecting someone to yell, "Cut!" and the set lights to come on. But no. Every detail, from the carved walls to Orochimaru's presence beside me, was tangible. Real. I was in the world of Naruto. In a universe I had devoured with my eyes during years of exhausted adolescence, my soul numb from endless hours in front of the microscope or locked in family meetings. Naruto had been my escape, my secret burrow. My corner of solace.
And if anyone could understand me—even beyond that blurred line between fiction and desire—it was Shisui Uchiha.
The only character who ever felt real. The one who vanished into shadows, silent and noble. The one who gave everything, even his eyes, for an ideal no one knew how to honor. I loved him the way you love the impossible. I sent furious emails to Kishimoto, enraged by the injustice of a poorly told story. How could someone like him, with so much love to give, end like that? Without redemption. Without comfort.
Shisui was more than a character. He was the purest reflection of everything I failed to be—and everything I still wanted to become. My most intimate hopes condensed in him. My fight against inertia. My desire to be seen, heard, understood.
And now, I was here. In flesh and chakra. In a world that smelled of paper, ancient dust, and blood. I didn't know if I'd have a chance to see him, to meet him. It all depended on what point in the timeline I had landed. But if there was a chance—a slim chance—of crossing paths with him... then I couldn't keep being Celine Ferreira.
[THE SYSTEM DETECTS AN OLD MELANCHOLY IN YOUR AURA]
We entered a pristine room, with elegant and sober furniture. Too comfortable for a child. But Orochimaru didn't treat me like a child. He observed me with the fascination of an entomologist studying a rare and brilliant specimen. He'd noticed the way I spoke, how I avoided childish games, the adult weight that seeped into each of my silences.
"And you?" he asked softly. "What should I call you?"
I hesitated for a second. My heart raced—not from fear, but from certainty. As if I were carving out my own prophecy in that moment.
And then, with the same feverish emotion that made me yell at the TV in my old room every time Shisui appeared, with the same devotion I once poured into writing a letter to a mangaka I never met, I answered. Not as Celine. Not as a victim of the past. But as someone choosing her name for the first time.
"Call me Shizuha."
Orochimaru smiled. And this time, his smile was a little slower. A little more curious.
"Shizuha..." he repeated, as if tasting the name between his fangs. "Chosen for meaning or preference?"
I sat on the edge of the bed, never taking my eyes off him. My heart still drummed, unable to accept that this man in front of me was real. Not a cosplay. Not an animated scene. Not a poorly subtitled YouTube clip. This was Orochimaru. With his raspy voice. His chilling aura. His insatiable intelligence.
And yet, I wasn't afraid. At least, not yet.
"Both," I replied firmly. "Sometimes, names find you before you know you need them."
He raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
"Quite a refined answer for a girl your age."
I smiled, with a touch of irony.
"And you expect simple answers?"
Orochimaru let out a soft, almost inaudible laugh. He moved across the room with that serpentine grace and sat in a chair on the other side of the desk. He studied me like I was already on his lab table—and at the same time, as if he feared breaking me too soon.
[OROCHIMARU HAS LAUGHED WITH YOU FOR THE THIRD TIME]
[BONUS: AFFINITY CIRCLE]
[USE: Displays the affinity of Protagonists toward you, based on color]
[STATUS: PENDING]
I was stunned by what the system told me. This was like a video game. Now I could even see Orochimaru's affinity. Although the circle above his head wasn't showing results yet. It seemed like it was still installing, like when you download an app.
"Tell me, Shizuha..." he said, fingers interlaced. "Where do you come from?"
The question wasn't innocent. It sounded casual, but it was laced with disguised poison.
I knew it.
I could lie. I could say I didn't remember. I could fake innocence.
But instead, I looked him in the eyes—those slanted, cunning, unfathomable eyes—and said:
"From very far away. Farther than you can imagine."
Silence.
Orochimaru watched me for several seconds, then slowly nodded.
"Then I imagine you also know who I am."
I nodded.
"Orochimaru. Legendary Sannin. Traitor of Konoha. Genius of the forbidden."
A pause.
"And yet, you don't seem afraid of me."
I stayed silent. It wasn't that I wasn't afraid. I just didn't want to show it.
[OROCHIMARU IS CURIOUS ABOUT YOUR THOUGHTS]
The phrase hung in the air like a note held too long. Orochimaru looked at me with a mix of amusement and suspicion.
"And why do you think that is?"
I shrugged, with a lopsided smile, pretending to be calm.
[OROCHIMARU ADMIRES YOUR COURAGE]
[YOU HAVE UNLOCKED THE PASSIVE SKILL: UNBREAKABLE]
[USE: Creates the impression of being strong and powerful before any character. Warning: it's just an impression. You are still weak.]
[Skill level: Rank C]
[BECOME CLOSE TO OROCHIMARU TO LEVEL UP 'UNBREAKABLE']
Wow. That's actually awesome. Orochimaru looked at me again, and I felt his killing intent, so I gave my best answer. One I had already prepared.
"Heroes are predictable. Monsters... change the rules of the game."
It wasn't an improvised line. I had chosen those words carefully, like picking shōgi pieces. From the moment I opened my eyes in this universe—the one that used to live only on my computer screen and manga pages—I knew I was in danger. Orochimaru wasn't just a villain. He was the villain. The unpredictable. The brilliant. The cruel.
That's why I couldn't treat him like a background figure in someone else's story. I had to get inside the narrative. Use the rules I already knew. Because even if I didn't know exactly when I was in the timeline, I knew enough about him. I had seen every analysis of every character I found interesting, every YouTube video essay dissecting him like a lab specimen: "Orochimaru: scientist, monster or martyr?" I knew how he thought. What fascinated him. What kind of people he didn't kill... immediately.
So I planned my next move with a surgeon's cold precision. I had already piqued his interest. Now I had to earn his favor. Faking ideological compatibility would do. For now.
[THE SYSTEM ADMIRES YOUR DETERMINATION]
That response seemed to please him. He got up from the chair, crossed the room with near-silent steps, and opened a small cabinet embedded in the wall.
I didn't blink. But inside, my mind was a boiling laboratory.
"One step closer. One less until he cuts me in half."
Orochimaru pulled out a hermetically sealed glass box and placed it in front of me. Inside, several small vials held vividly colored liquids, and in one of them floated a black spiral-shaped substance.
I leaned in slightly. I could recognize compounds by color and viscosity. Alkaloids, recombinant proteins, and something else... liquid chakra?
"What is this?"
"A failed attempt to stabilize a chakra-based toxin. Designed to attack the circulatory system without affecting the mind," Orochimaru said, almost talking to himself. "But it's... unstable. And lethally volatile."
I shivered. Not from fear. From fascination.
"Do you want me to analyze it?"
"I want you to tell me what you see. Now. No equipment. Just your nose, your eyes, and that brain you're so proud of."
I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and visualized the possible formulas. Molecular chains. Unstable chemical combinations.
"It looks like you tried to use a mitoxantrone base with chakra resin. But they repel each other under heat. That's why you couldn't stabilize it. If you change the catalyst to a slow-release protein, you could at least reduce the spontaneous combustion."
[YOUR KNOWLEDGE HAS LEVELED UP THE SKILL: PHARMACEUTICAL PULSE]
[PREVIOUS LEVEL: F]
[CURRENT LEVEL: D]
When I opened my eyes, Orochimaru hadn't moved. He was studying me as if I had just revealed a new version of myself.
"Your knowledge is... unusual for a child."
I smiled, calm.
"You already knew that."
Orochimaru lifted the box and handed it to me with an almost ceremonial gesture.
"Then this is yours. Your first project."
I held it reverently.
In that moment, I thought of Celine.
The girl who grew up with obligation tattooed under her skin, who woke up with the weight of the Ferreira name and went to sleep with the guilt of not being enough to carry it proudly.
She had lived for that name. Fought for it. Suffered for it. Obeyed, smiled, stayed silent. Died for it.
Like Shisui, I thought.
He too died for something greater than himself. For the village. For others.
And what a stupidly noble death.
They lived for others. Died for others.
As if their existence never truly belonged to them.
I didn't want that. Not again. No more sacrifices painted as virtue.
This time I didn't want to be good. Or bad.
I wanted to be mine.
Completely mine.
And in the thick silence of the laboratory, for the first time, the echo of my own footsteps sounded free.
[AFFINITY CIRCLE: FULLY INSTALLED]
[WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE OROCHIMARU'S AFFINITY?]
[YES - NO]