c155 — Change Is a Good Thing
"Ridiculous!" the Crimson Sand Scorpion snapped, voice sharp with offended pride. "You've killed far more than I have, why do you call me dirtier?"
Gen Uchiha's lips curved into a faint, unreadable smile. His tone was calm, almost clinical. "The people I killed were enemies, criminals, men who preyed on others for greed. There's a difference. Killing them made the world a little cleaner."
The Sand Scorpion's face flushed. He had always justified his killings as necessary; now Gen's words struck like a mirror. "I have never killed an innocent," Gen continued. "Have you?"
The Crimson Sand Scorpion fell silent, anger and a stab of doubt mixing on his features. He had torn people apart to make puppets men and women, regardless of creed or age removing what he needed with indifferent hands. He'd used their bodies as tools, as if life were only raw material for his art.
"Hmph. Next time we meet, you'll be part of my collection," the Sand Scorpion spat.
"Is that so?" Gen's smile didn't change.
"You really think Sand puppetry is anything special?" the Scorpion sneered. "It's child's play."
"My puppet is not a toy," Gen said softly. "It's a blade."
Beneath scorn, veins throbbed at the Scorpion's temples. He wanted to kill Gen on the spot. "Are you a puppeteer too?" he demanded.
Gen laughed once, dryly. "When did the Uchiha clan become known for puppetry? I am…different. My sword is a puppet. The way I control it, you wouldn't understand at your current level."
The Scorpion opened his mouth to retort and found no words. The demonstration Gen had performed earlier the subtle melding of kenjutsu, chakra control, and a tracing of genjutsu-like intent over a weapon had been incomprehensible to him. It wasn't the crude strings and hidden mechanisms of Sunagakure's puppets; it was living control, the Uchiha's precision grafted onto steel.
"If you defeat me next time," Gen added, "I'll reunite you with your parents. That's the price I'll stake."
"How?" the Scorpion asked, suddenly vulnerable. He had grown up wanting only to be noticed; the promise of reconnecting with lost family scraped at a wound long kept hardened.
"Okay," he muttered, voice small. "But I won't owe you anything. My life is too cheap to be bought."
"I won't ask for a debt." Gen's voice stayed even. "But in return, stop attacking innocents. Make enemies into puppets only."
Gen's words were met with a guarded nod. The Scorpion's features hardened. "I'll keep my word," he said. "I can fool others, but not myself."
Gen's smile thinned. "I hope so."
He leaned closer, voice dropping. "Forbidden techniques can desecrate a soul, it's true. But sometimes when used with purpose they can realize a person's last wish."
"Is there someone you wish to see?" Gen asked.
For a moment, Yahiko's face flickered through Xiaonan's thoughts a memory that loosened the muscles of his mouth into something like a smile, only to harden into cold steel again. Nagato had once claimed there was a way to bring Yahiko back, but at the cost of another life. Yahiko's idealism had ended in a pit; Nagato's path would become Akatsuki's creed. Better, Xiaonan thought, to let Yahiko rest.
"I have no one I want to see dead or alive," Xiaonan said at last, voice flat. "The people I care about are around me."
"You don't look content," Gen observed. "If you had regrets to make up for"
"I have no regrets, Scorpion. Let's go."
"If you change your mind," the Scorpion said before walking off, "come find me. By the way your codename?"
"No comment."
"There must be a codename. I feel we'll meet again."
"The first time is a casual meeting. The second acquaintances. The third…well, don't let familiarity breed contempt."
Xiaonan's footsteps paused. "We're not acquaintances even after the second meeting," he said coldly.
White? Was the Scorpion thinking of the codename White Tiger?
After the two left, Gen folded away the money and paper flowers, shrugged the Akatsuki black-and-red cloud robe over his shoulders. The robe carried no perfume, only the faint, clean scent of laundry soap incongruous against its terrible fame. Wearing Konoha's green flak jacket beneath the Akatsuki cloak, he'd blended two of the ninja world's most infamous mantles into one image: deputy commander and rogue. For a moment he allowed himself a small, private amusement.
When he reached the edge of the Konoha outpost, Gen slipped off the black-and-red cloak and folded it neatly. The ostentatious garment didn't suit the steadiness expected of a deputy commander.
…
In the Kirigakure tent, the high command sat clustered around a low table. On the main cushion the portly, broad-shouldered man nicknamed Watermelon Mountain Pufferfish ruled the room with a face serious and tight.
"You've all read Mizukage-sama's order," he said. "We must explain ourselves. We must decide how to eliminate Uchiha Gen."
They would carry this out together; no single man could be allowed to fail and make the Mizukage's wrath fall on him alone. Shared responsibility diluted blame.
Silence stretched. No one rushed to speak.
The Watermelon Mountain Pufferfish stiffened, then called names to prod them. "Juzang, your thoughts."
Loquat Juzang obliged. "Uchiha Gen is strong deputy commander of Konoha. A frontal assault will draw Orochimaru and Konoha jonin interference. Even if we send more Kirigakure jonin, killing him in the open is unlikely."
"If we hope to succeed, we must use trickery defeat the many with the few," he finished awkwardly.
The Watermelon Mountain Pufferfish nodded and pressed on. "Give us specifics."
Embarrassed, Loquat had nothing more. The others looked to Kisame, who sat stiff and unreadable at the table's edge.
"Kisame?" the elder asked.
Kisame's voice, when it came, was flat. "Lure him out of Konoha's camp. Create a trap where he must act in person."
"That's vague," someone muttered.
"Then think," the leader snapped, and turned toward a man whose handsome face was incongruous with this room full of battle-scarred veterans.
"Tang," he said. "The Shui Wuyue clan is known for planning. Any ideas?"
"I have some," Tang replied.
"But it won't be easy to draw Uchiha Gen out with ordinary means. It needs to be a major incident something significant enough that he will lead the sortie himself."
At that, a junior officer on the left brightened and spoke up eagerly. "Logistics," he said.
"As expected of a Mizukage family," the leader grunted. "Tell us."
Gui Deng Crescent Moon inclined his head and spoke with measured gravity. "Divide our forces into two a large contingent and a small, covert unit. The smaller unit will be composed of jonin, special jonin, and elite chunin skilled at stealth."
"One element of the small unit will deliberately expose itself attack supply lines, sabotage warehouses in the rear of Konoha. Make the exposed group look substantial and dangerous. It must be convincing enough that Konoha diverts strong forces to respond."
"The other part of the small unit must remain hidden fewer in number, but more careful. They will infiltrate slowly and quietly to a covert position. The confusion this creates in Konoha's intelligence and response will be our opening to strike Uchiha Gen."
Gui Deng's eyes narrowed. "We'll also coordinate timing. When the small force begins its rear operations, our large force will launch a frontal assault not a full decisive battle, but a demonstration to pin Konoha's main strength at the front so they cannot reinforce their rear."
"As expected," another said. "Orochimaru will lead the front. Konoha's deputy commander will likely shoulder the rear. That is precisely the opportunity we need."
The tent hummed with a darker energy. The plan was risky, but methodical: a feint and an ambush, misdirection and the carefully placed sting. If Konoha misread their intent, the Mizukage's order could be fulfilled or Kirigakure would answer for failure with bleeding consequences.
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