Naruto: Orochimaru's Disciple

Chapter 186: Chapter 186: The People of the Ninja World and the People of My Previous Life Are Two Different Species

Chapter 186: The People of the Ninja World and the People of My Previous Life Are Two Different Species

”The Third Hokage is really greedy.”

Kenichi stared at the test subject on the operating table, then shook his hand and picked up the single tomoe Sharingan set aside next to him.

To be honest, he had not expected Hiruzen to come knocking on his door this early. But the more Kenichi thought about it, the more it made sense.

After all, Hiruzen was Tobirama’s disciple.

And Tobirama’s attitude toward the Uchiha had never been subtle. A student being influenced by his teacher was normal. If anything, it was proof that a teacher’s shadow could stretch frighteningly far.

The reason Konoha had not moved against the Uchiha sooner was complicated.

Part of it was political. The Uchiha were one of the two founding clans of Konoha.

Part of it was practical. As troublesome as the Sharingan could be, it was still a monstrous combat asset. It boosted dynamic vision, let a user copy hand seals, and even enabled genjutsu. In terms of versatility, it was hard to top.

The problem was always the same. Most outsiders could not turn it off. The chakra drain was relentless. And with the Uchiha clan still present, very few people dared to openly use stolen eyes.

But now?

Now things were different.

Kenichi injected the test subject with anesthesia. After watching the man sink into deep sleep, he finally began the operation.

Organ transplantation was never a simple surgery.

An eye transplant was worse. In Kenichi’s previous life, it was not even considered a real option. It was simply impossible.

But this was the shinobi world. Here, strange and unreasonable techniques existed everywhere, and medical ninjutsu could patch together problems that should not be patchable. Kenichi felt his odds were not low.

Removing the eyeball was only the first step.

The real nightmare was blood vessels and nerves.

The eye socket was small, the space was tight, and trying to perform delicate work inside it was like threading a needle while someone tried to stab you with a kunai.

When the operation ended, Kenichi wiped the blood off his hands and looked down at the half conscious test subject.

”How do you feel?” he asked casually.

The man’s eyes were unfocused. His expression twisted with pain. ”I feel so tired... and my eyes are sore!” he cried, clutching at his face like he wanted to tear the discomfort out with his fingernails.

Kenichi’s expression tightened.

That reaction killed a thought he had been entertaining.

He had briefly considered using himself as a test case.

Now he abandoned that idea without hesitation.

”I should check again,” Kenichi muttered, irritation creeping in. ”It is hard to say if I missed something.”

The most terrifying part of surgery was always this kind of situation, where something inexplicably appeared, or something inexplicably vanished, and you only realized it after the patient started screaming.

He needed answers.

If shinobi could survive in a world this brutal, then their bodies might not be built like ordinary people at all. That would also explain why true medical specialists were so rare, and why people like Tsunade had to walk a path that fused raw power with medical skill just to survive the pressure.

The eye was an absurd organ. It let a person see the world. Every nerve mattered. Miss one connection, and you could trigger a chain reaction of problems.

Kenichi focused on what he had observed during the transplant attempt.

The three tomoe Sharingan he had examined earlier had three extra nerves.

And when he inspected the test subject, an ordinary person, he could not find those extra nerves anywhere else.

”Maybe I can try using medical ninjutsu to stimulate autonomic nerve connections,” Kenichi sighed, continuing the tedious, high precision reconnection process. ”I really should have consulted Tsunade back then.”

His annoyance was not only with the difficulty.

It was with how absurd the shinobi world was.

In his old world, nerve reconnection was the kind of thing that made doctors sweat through their coats. Here, people casually swapped eyes in the middle of a battlefield and then went back to fighting.

Kenichi’s thoughts jumped, sharp as a scalpel.

Now I need to attach Obito’s eyes and give him a big gift.

His gaze drifted to the thermobaric bomb he had crafted, sitting safely in its container. He smiled with the kind of kindness that belonged in a nightmare.

Kakashi’s transplant had happened immediately, in the most brutal way possible. Yet it still worked.

That success, compared to these preserved Sharingan that had been removed who knew how long ago, was almost a miracle.

Most injuries in this world could be treated with medical ninjutsu, and specializing in it did not immediately boost combat strength the way ninjutsu or taijutsu did. That alone explained why medical development lagged.

Still, if he wanted real progress, he needed to compare bodies.

He needed to dissect shinobi and civilians.

He needed a shinobi world anatomical diagram, not a memory from his old life.

”My eyes hurt so much! They hurt so much! They really hurt so much!” the test subject howled, scratching at his eyes like he wanted to gouge them out himself.

Kenichi remembered the moment he had noticed the three extra nerves.

”However,” he muttered, rubbing his face, ”I do not even know if the nerves in my wrist are like that. If I want to solve these mysteries, I have to try again.”

Kakashi being able to use the Sharingan normally was not proof of elegance.

It was proof of luck.

Now Kenichi finally understood why Kakashi could not turn the Sharingan off.

With that kind of transplant method, being able to use it at all was already an outrageous stroke of fortune.

”So all the guys in the shinobi world are basically... vegetable people,” Kenichi snapped, then immediately corrected himself with a grim smile. ”No. I am one too.”

Even while complaining, he still shoved the Sharingan into the man’s eye socket.

He used medical ninjutsu to seal and heal the wound around the eye. Then he forced the test subject awake.

Obito’s Mangekyo Sharingan had been in Kenichi’s possession for a long time. But he had concerns.

He needed to know if his own eyes could be perfectly reattached after he was finished with Obito’s Mangekyo.

Kakashi could use Kamui, so Kenichi had once assumed the process would be simple.

Now he was no longer so confident.

”Fortunately, these steps can be handled by shadow clones,” Kenichi decided, his tone firm. ”Dissection does not require much technical skill. It is just an eyesore.”

He did not intend to personally oversee the repetitive work.

It was perfect for clones. They would do the counting, the cutting, the recording, and he would still receive every memory.

That also allowed comparative experiments to run in parallel.

The results were consistent.

There really were three extra nerves.

Kenichi did not know why.

They were simply there.

Compared to the Uchiha, an ordinary person’s optic nerve structure was missing three connections in the eyeball.

Dissecting and counting nerves did not require genius. It required patience, and it was painfully repetitive. That was exactly why Kenichi delegated it.

What? You have been poisoned? Learn about the technique of extracting small lesions.

The thought flashed through his head like a bitter joke.

Fortunately, some blood vessels could be pulled for connection, which lowered the difficulty slightly. But the deeper he went into the work, the more absurd it became.

Some nerves inside the eyeball were a disaster, and because of improper preservation over time, a few had even atrophied.

Even then, there was no guarantee every nerve could be successfully connected.

Worse, Kenichi discovered something else.

His teacher had removed these eyeballs with extremely violent methods.

What? You are injured? Palm Healing Technique!

Kenichi almost laughed, then swallowed it down.

He needed to answer a core question.

Were shinobi bodies different from civilian bodies?

Did shinobi have special organs, special nerves, special structures that made them fundamentally different?

It was worth exploring.

Kenichi could only stare, a question mark practically forming in his mind.

So the Uchiha clan can no longer be considered human, is that it?

If those extra nerves were only for transmitting chakra, it would be understandable. Chakra could be mobilized throughout the body, after all.

But Kenichi could not shake the feeling that these three nerves might serve another purpose.

The Sharingan evolved from single tomoe to three tomoe through chakra and emotion.

And when Kenichi looked at those extra nerves, a cold thought surfaced.

Maybe the humans of this world and the humans of his previous life were not even the same species.

He used his three tomoe Sharingan the same way he would release a jutsu. Chakra gathered in his hand smoothly, as if the eye itself was part of a broader internal system.

”Hm.” Kenichi’s eyes narrowed. ”Would my teacher have what I need?”

In this area, Kenichi was still a novice.

Orochimaru was not.

A long time passed. The test subject nearly woke once during the procedure, forcing Kenichi to administer anesthesia again before trouble could start.

It was always like this. Before one mystery was solved, another appeared.

And the truth was, Kenichi had never truly dissected human bodies before. Deep down, he had assumed the people here were built the same way as people in his old world.

He treated the work the same way he treated rice improvement.

He handled the initial research and the theory. The rest was thrown to shadow clones. Otherwise, if he did everything himself, it would take years just to move one step.

But now another concern surfaced.

If a single tomoe Sharingan had three extra nerves, what about the Mangekyo?

If the nerves did not match, then after he used Obito’s Mangekyo, he would have to put his own eyeball back in and reconnect blood vessels and nerves again and again.

That was not a risk he wanted to discover the hard way.

With his logbook in hand, Kenichi hurried to his teacher’s laboratory.

The moment he entered, he saw Orochimaru examining an arm.

The arm was necrotic.

Strangely, it also had bruises.

That was... unsettling.

”Teacher,” Kenichi asked, genuine curiosity slipping through his usual composure, ”what is that thing in your hand?”

The scene made him oddly nostalgic. When Kenichi had first become his teacher’s test subject, Orochimaru had examined his arm in much the same way.

Orochimaru did not look up. ”The arm that the Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, replaced. He sent me this arm.”

His voice remained calm, as if he were discussing vegetables from the market. ”I asked for it. I was also curious why the compatibility was so high, yet the arm died so quickly.”

Kenichi’s eyes narrowed.

That was terrifying.

[After the test subject received a single tomoe Sharingan, he became manic, experiencing intense, unbearable pain and repeatedly attempting to gouge out his own eyeballs.]

Kenichi rubbed his eyes. Even with his Sharingan active, his eyes felt tired.

”How should these neural networks be connected?” he muttered. ”Blood vessels are one thing, but these nerves...”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, headache building.

He had expected difficulties.

He still had not expected this.

”No wonder shinobi never consider these details,” Kenichi said under his breath. ”It is too troublesome.”

With medical ninjutsu this convenient, it was normal for medicine to advance slowly. People rarely build ladders when they can already jump walls.

Still, Kenichi needed answers.

What did the three extra nerves do?

What did they transmit?

Were they tied directly to chakra?

Using the Sharingan from single tomoe to three tomoe required chakra. That was undeniable.

Kenichi looked at the concept in his mind again, and the conclusion kept returning.

The people of the shinobi world and the people of his previous life were likely not the same species.

He set his logbook down and looked at Orochimaru. ”Teacher, do you have anatomical diagrams of civilians and shinobi?”

Orochimaru finally glanced at him. After a brief pause, he nodded toward the archives.

”Look for it there.”

Kenichi exhaled slowly.

Before he could solve the mysteries of the Sharingan, he first had to understand the bodies trying to hold it.

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