As a Special White Zetsu, Aoi's physical abilities were quite decent. Yet that wasn't enough for him to successfully flee the scene… much like how no man, no matter how fast, could outrun four wheels.
Aoi was panicking. Like the protagonist in a horror story, chased into a corner.
If he had a tongue, it would be lolling out right about now.
Within the 'shell,' Obito Uchiha sensed Aoi's distress and decided to help. Konoha could wait. Rin and Kakashi could wait. Right now, he had to help Aoi escape.
After the world-shattering event and being saved by these little creatures, Obito still held some gratitude. In that moment, he even thought they were 'good people'… His world had almost shattered. If it had, his emotions would have undergone a qualitative change, and this bit of gratitude would have been nothing.
But 'almost' wasn't 'did.' Obito had already begun to fall into the abyss, only to be fished back out at the last second.
And the person who fished him out was now chasing them.
"Aoi, I know how to get away… Watch me!"
Obito wasn't lying. As he spoke, his body and the surrounding space shimmered with spiral, spatial distortion patterns. Then—he vanished.
During the previous Kannabi Bridge mission, Obito hadn't donated his eye to Kakashi Hatake. So now, he possessed a full pair of Mangekyō Sharingan. With dual Kamui, his escape was terrifyingly fast.
After all, the script and character arcs in that battle were different from the original timeline. Kakashi wasn't extreme, didn't need redemption, and frankly didn't need a Sharingan… Both his parents were alive, especially that old man, Sakumo, living and breathing. His family background was so ordinary it screamed 'non-protagonist material.'
Space–Time Ninjutsu was a great tool for escape. But that didn't mean it worked every time. Using it in front of Yūshin right now? Not wise.
Yūshin was waiting for Obito to use Kamui. Where could the kid even go?
"Mastering Space–Time Ninjutsu right after awakening the Mangekyō… Is that something 'Idiot Number Two' could do? It had to be the effect of Hashirama's cells…"
Using Yomotsu Hirasaka, Yūshin observed Obito's technique and his exit point… Obito didn't hide himself and Aoi in the Kamui dimension. His escape route was utterly mundane—back the way he came.
This kind of thoughtless, instinctive action fit Idiot Number Two perfectly.
Needless to say, Yūshin followed.
But upon reaching the new area, Yūshin stopped caring about Obito… Finding Madara Uchiha across the entire Shinobi World was hard. Limiting the search to this tiny area? Problem solved.
Yūshin's sensory perception pierced through layers of earth, reaching an extremely deep cavern. His Byakugan confirmed it. A perfect spot for murder and burial.
"Hiding this deep. Afraid wild dogs will dig you up after you die?"
Yūshin couldn't be bothered with Earth Style. He used Space–Time Ninjutsu again, stepping directly into the cavern.
The vast, dark space was lit by a few flickering candle flames. Yūshin appeared behind and to the side of a stone throne. On it sat a withered old man with white hair.
"How did it go, Black Zetsu?"
Madara Uchiha was also awaiting the results. If all went well, he could close his eyes in peace.
Initially, Madara hated Zetsu's erratic, appearing-out-of-nowhere movement. But he'd gotten used to it. A dying man shouldn't care about such details.
Another mistake. If you were wary of something from the start, staying true to that wariness until death was the shinobi way.
Madara had grown lax.
"You probably screwed it up… most likely."
A voice, both unfamiliar and familiar, sounded by Madara's ear. Definitely not Black Zetsu's… Unfamiliar because he hadn't heard it in years, had almost forgotten it.
Familiar because he could never truly deceive himself into forgetting.
Madara turned his head with a speed that belied his age. He confirmed Yūshin's state—young, overflowing with chakra, in peak condition.
He'd lived a long life, the latter half muddled, immersed in a delusion of being the only sober man in a drunken world. But on death's doorstep, he finally got smart.
As he turned to confirm Yūshin's state, his hand shot towards his own chest. Fingers pierced flesh. Gripped. Crushed his own heart.
"Uh…"
Yūshin was stunned. What the hell? Why so extreme? See my face and just… kill yourself?
Madara didn't commit suicide to avoid hearing Yūshin talk. His action was perfectly logical… The moment he saw Yūshin, his fear wasn't that Yūshin would kill him. His fear was that Yūshin wouldn't let him die.
Because in Madara's plan, he needed to 'die and be reborn.' If he couldn't even die, rebirth was impossible. So was his grand plan.
Over the years, hiding in this cavern, Madara had still gathered intelligence on Yūshin. Or rather, he needed to gather it. He'd heard of the various 'Crystal Miracles.'
Madara refused to become preserved meat.
So Yūshin, who came to chat with an 'old friend' and offer some end-of-life care, ended up being the grim reaper.
"Yūshin… perhaps we should have a conversation. But not today…"
Madara grinned, then chuckled softly, like an old witch.
The final step of his death plan remained unconfirmed. Yūshin's presence likely meant things had gone wrong. But he had no other choice. He had to trust Black Zetsu to handle the rest.
Of course he trusted Black Zetsu. He firmly believed Black Zetsu was a manifestation of his own will.
"For having the guts to off yourself so cleanly… fine. Die, then."
Yūshin watched the dark red blood seep from Madara's chest and mouth. He decided to grant this wish… Madara would rather die than talk to him. Had Yūshin really become that loathsome?
This scene was nothing like what Yūshin expected. But since it was quite the spectacle, he let it play out—with his Yin–Yang Release, Madara could still be saved. He'd just saved someone who'd torn out their own heart, after all. But why would he?
Watching Madara struggle towards death, towards his end… it had its own entertainment value. Yūshin watched quietly, holding his breath, refusing to interrupt the performance.
Only when Madara went utterly limp, slumped in his throne, did Yūshin gently clap.
"A fine mime show. You truly are the Shinobi World's comedian…"
After Madara's final bow, Yūshin finally had time to observe the cavern. It was empty. Even the most crucial item—the Demonic Statue of the Outer Path—was gone.
No. Precisely because it was so crucial, Madara had moved and hidden it before dying.
Elsewhere, Black Zetsu sensed the change at Madara's location. He gathered all essential assets and fled. Madara could die. He should die. But Black Zetsu couldn't go down with him.
That night, Black Zetsu and several White Zetsu hid in another 'safe house.'
"The plan failed. Madara is likely dead. The pawn might be uncontrollable… What do we do?"
The unavoidable, dreaded question lay before Black Zetsu.
Aoi arrived then. Obito Uchiha was still inside him.
"Where's Obito?" Black Zetsu asked.
"With me. Asleep… The mental strain of awakening his Mangekyō was too much. He needed rest," Aoi replied, for once not resorting to his usual comedic antics. The situation was too messy.
"As long as he's here…"
Black Zetsu fell into thought. He pondered all night before reaching a decision.
A plan like 'The Loss of a Beloved' could only work once. Repeating it would lack credibility and face even greater difficulty.
It was time for Black Zetsu to show his resolve. Time to enter the game himself.
Before, Black Zetsu was the mastermind behind the scenes. He schemed and plotted, but his own safety was assured.
Like an international drug lord. He supplied the product. No matter how many couriers or dealers got caught, it never threatened him.
But now, facing the possibility of his mother's revival and a plan going off the rails, he decided to take a risk. He decided to cross the border himself.
At dawn, Black Zetsu tapped Aoi. The shell opened like a flower, revealing the sleeping Obito Uchiha inside.
Then, Black Zetsu abandoned his perennial White Zetsu mount. He dissolved into a shadowy mass and surged into Obito's body.
Rin's 'resurrection' had plugged the dam of Obito's crumbling heart. Black Zetsu's infiltration and control… would now 'correct' that.
......
Konoha.
The Third Great Shinobi War had worn down the Third Hokage. Feeling his age, he decided to gradually transfer power to Gengetsu Gensui.
The war was brutal. He'd broken many of Konoha's long-standing, unspoken rules. He'd lost the support of many… both internally and externally, the Third was struggling.
Where some lose favor, others gain it. Most ordinary people can't change their environment. They pin their hopes on others…
In practice, Gengetsu Gensui was already the Acting Hokage. And she was working to further reduce the Third to a puppet, a symbol.
The Hokage's office. The Third Hokage and Gengetsu Gensui sat behind separate desks.
In theory, the Third should be teaching Gensui the ropes one-on-one. But Gensui would never listen to him… In her heart, she considered even her own father, the Second Hokage, to be a rather mediocre leader. Her opinion of the Third was even lower.
She was sometimes like the Second, sometimes like the First. A blend of her two father figures.
Take her attitude towards The Fireflies. The Second had always been wary. Not Gensui. In her view, once she became Hokage, The Fireflies would be her subordinates. Treat them accordingly. Why get all paranoid over nothing? How petty.
This attitude was almost identical to the First's. Arguably wiser than the Second's.
The Third Hokage trying to control Gengetsu Gensui? That was putting the cart before the horse.
The Third wanted to use Gensui to continue his policies. Gensui had a similar idea—use the Third's authority as a cloak to get things done. While he was still Hokage, he should carry some of the burden.
A fine frame for a black pot. Waste not, want not.
"Lord Third… from the Second War to the now-concluding Third War, over a decade of conflict… have you noticed the Uchiha Clan's rising influence?"
Gensui had been scribbling on a document. She suddenly tossed her pen aside and spoke, seemingly out of nowhere.
"It's inevitable. The Uchiha's battlefield performance is undeniable. As Hokage, fairness is the baseline. You—"
The Third seized the chance to lecture, but Gensui cut him off.
"Lord Third, the Uchiha problem needs solving. In the final stage of your tenure, you should leave some political legacy for your successors, no?"
"S-solve?"
"Yes. You should implement a new system within the Uchiha Clan. With the war not yet over, resistance will be lowest."
She handed the document she'd been working on to the Third.
The Third glanced at the cover. A few simple words: Sharingan Registration System.
He skimmed through it. The 'registration system' was simple: require the Uchiha Clan to register details of their Sharingan. This included, but wasn't limited to, time of awakening, stage of evolution, and special abilities. It even required Uchiha shinobi to submit written reports on Sharingan usage after missions. If someone awakened the Mangekyō Sharingan, detailed reports on that were mandatory…
What was this? 'Big Brother's Prism Project'?
"You want to enforce this? Given the Uchiha's nature, they'd never accept."
"Not enforce, per se. But one thing: only registered Uchiha will be recognized as true Konoha Uchiha. Those who register and comply will receive various benefits. Conversely, those who refuse will face invisible suppression… If the clan head doesn't register, he won't be recognized by the village."
Not enforced? Ha. It was enforced. Refusal meant restrictions in evaluations, promotions, assignments… every aspect.
"Do you know what this will cause?"
"Of course. The conflict between the Uchiha and Konoha will transform into conflict between one faction of Uchiha and another. Even if tensions boil over, it'll be one Uchiha faction fighting another. Konoha just needs to referee, mediate."
Konoha treats one group of Uchiha as people, another as not. Conflict was guaranteed. One side would be labeled 'traitors,' the other 'stubborn fanatics.'
The Third Hokage looked at Gengetsu Gensui with a complex expression. For a moment, he seemed to see a man with white hair, a half-covered forehead protector, and faint red markings on his cheeks and chin.
Well…
A fine shit-stirrer.
Did you study in the UK?
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