"Ridiculous!"
"You've killed far more people than I have, so why do you claim I'm filthier?" Sasori of the Red Sand shot back, voice brimming with indignation.
Gen remained calm, his faint smile unwavering.
"The people I kill are enemies, tyrants, or the corrupt rich. How can they be compared to your victims?"
"Killing them cleanses this dirty shinobi world, even if only a little. I've never slain an innocent. Can you say the same?"
Sasori's mouth twitched, words dying in his throat.
He killed purely for his art. If someone was a suitable material for a puppet, he would strike, good or evil, young or old, it didn't matter.
"Hmph. I won't mistake my target. Next time we meet, I'll make you part of my collection!"
"Oh?" Gen tilted his head, amused. "Is that so? Frankly, your Sunagakure puppet arts are unimpressive more like children's toys. Plus, my puppets are far stronger than your little toys."
"My puppets are not toys!" Sasori snarled, veins bulging at his temple.
His pride as a master puppeteer bristled at the insult.
"You're a puppet master too?" he sneered. "What a joke. Since when has the Uchiha Clan dabbled in puppet techniques?"
"I'm different," Gen replied smoothly.
"My blade is a puppet, but the control method I use is beyond your current level of understanding."
Sasori's lips parted, but no retort came. He truly didn't understand Gen's technique.
"Here's an offer," Gen said evenly. "Next time we fight, if you can defeat me, I'll let you see your parents again, just once. That will be the price for taking my life."
Sasori froze, his guarded heart faltering. Since childhood, love had eluded him. The thought of reuniting with his parents… it stirred something deep inside.
"…Fine," he said stiffly. "But I won't owe you. Buying your life with money is too cheap."
He clenched his fists. "From this day forward, I'll never use innocents for my puppets. Only enemies."
Gen's eyes softened for the briefest moment, though his expression remained detached.
"As you wish. In the end, whether you keep your word or not isn't for me to see."
"I can lie to others, but not to myself," Sasori said firmly. "I'll keep my promise."
"I hope so," Gen replied.
Then he turned his gaze on Konan. "As for you… Forbidden jutsu may desecrate the dead, but sometimes they can grant the living one last dream. Is there someone you wish to see? After I learn from Orochimaru-sensei, I could let you meet them again."
For a heartbeat, Konan's eyes softened. Yahiko's face flashed before her mind, a warmth blooming across her features, only for it to vanish as quickly as it came.
Nagato had already told her; Yahiko could be revived, but only through sacrifice, one life for another.
And Yahiko's ideals had already proven impossible. Better to let him rest in peace, rather than disturb him.
"There's no one I wish to see," she said coldly. "Everyone important to me is already by my side."
"Is that so?" Gen raised a brow. "Strange. You don't seem happy. I thought you carried a regret."
"I have no regrets." Konan turned away. "Sasori, we're leaving."
"Mn." Sasori followed after her.
"Alright, If you change your mind, come find me. Oh... and what's your name?"
Konan's steps faltered slightly. Her voice was flat when she answered, "White. But even after meeting twice, we are not acquaintances."
White? Gen smirked to himself. White Tiger, then? Interesting. [T/L: not sure if my mind in too dirty, bc, Im sure many know what white tiger refer to, when calling a woman that, at least in Chinese novels lol]
As the two Akatsuki members vanished into the distance, Gen gathered up the robe, the money, and the paper flower. He slipped on the black cloak with red clouds.
No perfume, no fragrance just the faint scent of soap and laundry powder.
He chuckled softly.
First the Konoha green vest, now the Akatsuki black cloak. He could almost say he'd worn the colors of the two greatest organizations in the shinobi world.
A moment later, Gen's figure blurred and vanished, reappearing on the path back to the Konoha camp.
Before entering, he pulled off the Akatsuki robe and tucked it away. It was far too flashy and far from the steady image of a vice commander.
Meanwhile, in the Mist camp, the atmosphere inside the council tent was heavy.
Suikazan Fuguki's massive form sat at the head of the table, his expression grim.
"You've all seen the Mizukage-sama's order," he said flatly. "We must give an explanation. How do we kill Uchiha Gen? Speak your thoughts."
This time, he wouldn't act alone. If it failed, the blame would be unbearable. But if everyone shared responsibility, the burden would be lighter.
The Mist higher-ups exchanged glances in uneasy silence.
Fuguki's brows twitched. "Jūzō. Speak."
Biwa Jūzō inclined his head. "Uchiha Gen is strong as Konoha's vice commander. In a frontal clash, with Orochimaru and the Konoha jōnin intervening, killing him would be impossible, no matter how many we send."
"To succeed, we need an unconventional tactic, absolute superiority in numbers, and strategy."
Fuguki nodded. "Well said. What tactic?"
"…I haven't thought of one yet," Jūzō admitted, a touch embarrassed.
At least he'd spoken some truth.
"Kisame," Fuguki called.
Kisame leaned forward, his tone low and serious. "We need to lure him out of the Konoha camp. Only then will we have a chance. I haven't figured out how yet, but that's the direction."
Fuguki accepted the answer without scolding his favored subordinate. His eyes slid toward a man who seemed oddly out of place, not ugly, but strikingly handsome, so much so that he overshadowed everyone else in the room.
"Mangetsu," Fuguki said. "The Hozuki clan is known for careful planning. Your thoughts?"
Hozuki Mangetsu folded his arms. "Ordinary distractions won't work. To pull Uchiha Gen out, it has to be a serious event; something that forces him to personally lead."
"Perhaps logistics?" Someone said.
The eyes of the shinobi at the left side of the table lit up. He straightened, speaking eagerly.
"I have a plan!"
Fuguki's lips curved into the faintest grin. "As expected of a clan that once produced a Mizukage. Speak, Mangetsu."
Every jōnin present turned their attention back to Hozuki Mangetsu again, anticipation in their eyes.
Mangetsu's tone was sharp, measured. "Your words inspired me. We divide the Mist forces into two groups, one large, and one small."
"The small force will be composed entirely of jōnin, special jōnin, and elite chūnin. They'll infiltrate Konoha's rear, striking supply lines and warehouses."
"A portion of them will deliberately expose themselves, strong enough and numerous enough to draw Konoha's attention, forcing them to dispatch a strong leader."
"The other portion will remain completely hidden, infiltrating slowly and carefully. Konoha's intelligence system will inevitably misjudge the situation."
"That misjudgment will be our chance to trap and kill Uchiha Gen."
His eyes gleamed. "Meanwhile, the large force launches a frontal assault not to win, but to tie down Orochimaru and Konoha's main strength, preventing reinforcements."
"In the end, the burden of protecting the rear will fall to one man: the vice commander."
"So tell me..." Mangetsu's lips curved faintly. "Do you think my plan is feasible?"