A Multiverse Tale: Hope in Another World!

Takuma Kirie had been whisked away by Orochimaru for a month. 

To his utter astonishment, that month didn't bring the brutal experiments he'd braced for. Instead, his every need—food, shelter, rest—was tended to with meticulous care. 

His meals were lavish, packed with nutrients, and supplemented by rare restorative elixirs. Sleep was a science: strictly timed, and after some mysterious injection, he awoke each morning feeling sharper than ever. Daily exercise was calibrated down to the minute, though chakra refinement was off-limits, and his blood was drawn for tests with clockwork regularity. 

In just a month, Kirie transformed from a scrawny refugee orphan into a picture of health—his body and spirit brimming with vitality, as if polished to perfection.

Watching a third of his time slip away, he felt a twinge of frustration but couldn't do much about it. Orochimaru had no clue about his cheat-code Multiverse Roulette, and Kirie sure wasn't about to spill the beans. He had no choice but to let himself be groomed as the perfect lab rat. 

Thankfully, five days later, the pampered prep phase finally ended. 

The morning he woke to find no lavish breakfast waiting, Kirie knew it: the real experiment was about to begin. 

Dressed in a stark white hospital gown, he was wheeled to an operating table. Harsh fluorescent lights blinded him, and the faint tang of disinfectant mingled with the stinging bite of alcohol in the air. 

"To be honest, kid," Orochimaru's voice cut through the sterile silence as he loomed over the table, a syringe of murky liquid in hand, "you're the healthiest, most promising orphan test subject I've ever come across." 

"Maybe you'll actually pull this off." 

"As I promised, if you succeed, I'll grant you the title of student to me, Orochimaru of the Sannin." 

With those words, he plunged the syringe into Kirie's arm, the fluid coursing into his veins. 

"Struggle well, kid." 

"If you die, it's all over…" 

A hint of melancholy flickered in Orochimaru's tone, but before Kirie could pin it down, darkness swelled like a tidal wave, swallowing him whole. 

--- 

Three days later. 

Orochimaru's serpentine eyes glimmered with rapture as he watched Kirie conjure a Wood Clone with effortless precision. 

To him, it was like an artist beholding the world's finest masterpiece. In that moment, Kirie wasn't just a person—he was something sublime, a living work of art. 

Kirie barely noticed the stare, too intoxicated by the surge of newfound power thrumming through him. Every cell in his body pulsed with life, screaming the presence of the Sage Body. Each time he refined chakra, an endless wellspring of vitality bubbled up, tugging a grin across his face. 

For most Naruto fans, the standout moments were the kaleidoscope Sharingan, Sage Mode, Nine-Tails power-ups, or Might Guy's earth-shattering kick. But as a veteran of countless Naruto fanfics, Kirie had seen past the flash. He'd glimpsed the truth behind the hype. 

Question time! 

How could Yamato control tailed beasts?

Yamato: Don't ask—Hashirama cells, baby. 

Why didn't Obito's Sharingan burn out?

Obito: Don't ask—Hashirama cells. 

How did Orochimaru restrain Tobirama?

Orochimaru: Don't ask—Hashirama cells! 

How could Danzo handle all those Sharingan?

Danzo: Don't ask—Hashirama cells. 

Why'd the White Zetsu suddenly get so jacked? 

White Zetsu: Got me some Hashirama cells! 

Hashirama: "Madara, look at these shameless punks—cheating with my cells!" 

Madara: Sneaks a glance at his own chest, recalls how he snagged the Rinnegan, blushes, and shuts up. 

Across Naruto's sprawling story, Hashirama's cells were the ultimate plug-in—Wood Release, insane buffs, raw life force. When it came to cheats, nothing in the ninja world topped them! 

"Looks like you've successfully fused with Hashirama's cells," Orochimaru said, reining in his earlier awe. 

For the first time, his gaze shifted—Kirie was no longer just a "test subject." He was a person. 

"As promised, I'll take you as my student. You'll also assist me in researching Hashirama cell compatibility." 

To Orochimaru, Kirie was a miracle—a living proof-of-concept. If he could crack what made this kid's body sync so perfectly, mass-producing Hashirama cell transplants would be a breeze. 

On one hand, Kirie's Sage Body was still at the level of a young Hashirama—eight or nine years old. It'd evolve as he grew, requiring long-term monitoring. On the other, Orochimaru genuinely saw potential in him. 

This kid had a ferocious drive to grow stronger, a sharp mind, and a physique rivaling Hashirama's at the same age. Give it a decade—no, maybe just five or six years—and Orochimaru could mold him into a new God of Shinobi for Konoha! 

At least until the Third Hokage screwed him over and he turned rogue, Orochimaru's ambitions still leaned toward the village. Becoming Hokage had always been his dream. 

"I'll arrange a Senju clan identity for you," he continued. "You'll enter the Ninja Academy as a Senju orphan who awakened a kekkei genkai—my student. Beyond that, I'll teach you my ninjutsu personally." 

Echoing the earnest tone he'd once used with Nawaki, Orochimaru fixed Kirie with a serious look. "Anything else you need, Takuma-kun?"

"I do have one more request," Kirie replied, not missing a beat. "I want a Sharingan transplant." 

His voice dropped into a devilish, tempting whisper: 

"Sensei, don't you want to see it? Maybe my body can handle the Sharingan too. Imagine crafting a disciple with all of Hashirama's and Madara's potential—what would that do to Konoha… to the entire ninja world?" 

As a scientist and experiment junkie, Orochimaru didn't hesitate. Kirie's words lit a fire in him. 

The next day, he spearheaded an eye-swap operation. 

When he saw Kirie flick the Sharingan on and off with casual ease, a rare flicker of unease stirred in Orochimaru's chest—the first time he'd ever felt wary of the unknown. 

He could guide this eight-year-old kid… right?