Human puppets, as subordinates, have many inconveniences: they cannot think independently, cannot adapt to sudden changes, and for any plan or arrangement requiring fine precision, Satsuki must control them personally.
But there is one advantage—they never ask "why."
Why use a technique that robs the Uchiha clan of their memories as a threat, yet preserve only the clan head's memories?
Why operate under the Hagoromo clan's name instead of the Ōtsutsuki name?
Why ally only with the Uchiha and not with the Kaguya or the Tachibana clans?
If a human puppet's intelligence were higher, it might even ask: why go to such lengths to sow discord between the Iga and Kōga shinobi factions?
Satsuki had neither the time nor the interest to explain her plans one by one. What she needed was a tool to carry them out exactly as intended—and clearly, not everyone had even the most basic judgment.
Such as the several Uchiha currently surrounding Kiyomaru.
"You there. I don't know what honeyed words you used to deceive the clan head, but I will never agree to this absurd order."
"Our Uchiha clan controls the surrounding resources and missions here. Even the daimyō must show us respect to maintain their rule. Why should we abandon our own interests just because of a few words from you?"
"Brother An is right," another Uchiha sneered. "This so-called Hagoromo clan of yours—I've never even heard of them. What right do you have to compare yourselves to us?"
Faced with these ever-present provocations, Satsuki suddenly felt the urge to slap them down.
She chose, instead, to temporarily anchor her consciousness in Kiyomaru's body.
Kiyomaru's gaze shifted, a dark light passing through his eyes, transforming into a look of cold arrogance.
"I can tolerate weakness, for strength is always a relative concept, never absolute."
"Huh? What nonsense are you muttering?"
They took a few steps closer—then heard the second sentence.
"I can also tolerate ignorance, for unequal information will always exist as an objective reality."
"What?!"
"To speak so to the Uchiha clan—you'll regret standing before us."
"Enough talk—get him!"
Without any visible motion, Kiyomaru raised one hand. Instantly, every Uchiha around him froze in place, unable to move.
"But I cannot tolerate stupidity."
His gaze swept the circle of furious, immobilized Uchiha. He tapped a finger lightly toward the ground.
In an instant, dozens of Uchiha collapsed to both knees under crushing pressure.
"Unable to see the gap in strength, yet blindly pressing forward. Blind to the changing tides, yet unwilling to bide your time. Blind to your clan's fate, and so doomed to slaughter."
Kiyomaru's tone was cold. "The Sharingan is wasted on the likes of you."
With those words, his form dissolved into a puff of smoke, leaving every Uchiha kneeling in humiliation.
Several minutes passed before they could move again.
By then, Kiyomaru stood once more in Satsuki's hall, just below her favored seat.
Using reverse summoning, Satsuki had brought him back to her stronghold. As always, she ran a quick chakra inspection over the human puppet's condition.
"Go and see to your own maintenance."
Bowing his head slightly, Kiyomaru obeyed, departing from the main hall.
Satsuki closed her eyes, continuing to think through the next steps. Her connection with the Uchiha clan was now established, and lines of communication were open. The calculated show of force earlier was enough to ensure that Tajima Uchiha would move forward with the first phase of her plan. Once they came into direct contact with the Senju clan and the tailed beasts, ambition would drive both sides to fight one another—just as in the original events.
And so, the destiny of Indra and Asura would continue.
At that thought, an image surfaced in her mind: half black, half white, wrapped in a plant-like body resembling a pitcher plant, wearing the black cloak with red clouds of the Akatsuki—Kaguya's will incarnate, Black Zetsu.
This strange existence, who more or less shared her purpose, should soon reappear on the stage.
Before long, when the Uchiha and Senju clashed over the tailed beasts, the reincarnations of Asura and Indra's chakra would awaken as a result. Everything would unfold as it had in the original script.
As the most devoted "son" of the shinobi world, and one who could manipulate Madara Uchiha in the palm of his hand, Zetsu earned a measure of Satsuki's respect. Though only because the plot demanded it, his goal was ultimately achieved—after thousands of years and countless failures, he succeeded in resurrecting Ōtsutsuki Kaguya. For sheer persistence alone, apart from intellect, he was noteworthy.
Of course, Kaguya had been resealed almost immediately, and Zetsu sealed along with her.
This ending had always been hard for Satsuki's rigorously logical mind to accept. Before entering this world, she could dismiss it with the excuse of "plot armor." But once she became part of the shinobi world herself, her perspective changed.
Satsuki no longer believed in so-called plot armor. She was more inclined to think that everything was being maintained and manipulated by some unseen force.
As for Zetsu, she would have her chance to deal with that millennia-old being in due time.
Picking up a mirror, Satsuki examined her reflection. Where her eyes should have been pure white, they now gleamed gold. Within each golden iris, the faint image of a flower with only two petals shimmered.
"My own Tenseigan?"
This change had only appeared recently. Ever since leaving the Sage's hidden land, she had been watching these eyes closely, constantly feeding them all the chakra she could spare.
But after the tenth full infusion of her chakra, the pattern had remained at two petals. She had stopped trying to force more chakra into them.
Her own chakra alone was far from enough to awaken this special Tenseigan. She would need outside help—guidance on how to awaken it, or a far greater source of chakra.
"Sage chakra is out of the question. Perhaps it's time to visit the Hamura Temple again."
With that thought, she changed into an ornate black robe adorned with intricate decorations and jutsu patterns. Her long, silky black hair spilled down her back. Around her waist was a slim sash tied in a butterfly knot. On the back of the robe was the crest of the Ōtsutsuki clan, and along the collar ran a sequence of magatama designs.
Small jewels and glass beads hung as tassels at her hips, swaying gently and chiming faintly with each step in her high-heeled geta.
Their soft clinking followed her as she entered the courtyard of her main hall. Two samurai puppets, already waiting for her orders, brought forth a large scroll and unrolled it on the ground.
Satsuki stepped onto it, forming hand seals to activate the array inscribed there. With a soft puff of white smoke, she vanished.