Konoha's early-warning nets might as well not exist to Black Zetsu.
ANBU perches, barrier tripwires, patrol routes—he slid past them like ink through paper, leading Uchiha Sogetsu to the rear mountain—the Forest of Death. Rain hissed in threads; the forest lay like a sleeping beast, breathing out a hush of ill omen.
They halted before a wire-fenced zone plastered with fat seals.
"The Kurama clan's forbidden grounds… right?" Sogetsu frowned, dredging up memory.
Most of the Forest, despite the name, wasn't public land. The Nara harvested medicines here; Yamanaka and Akimichi held sealed areas too. The Kurama sector ranked among the most dangerous. Once a true Konoha great clan, famed for five-sense domination genjutsu—until their bloodline thinned to nothing and the family withered.
Black Zetsu's tone was mild. "You know them. Don't worry—Madara-dono adjusted the Kurama wards long ago."
"So the Kurama bloodline fading… was his doing?" Sogetsu probed.
"No." Immediate denial. But when Sogetsu quietly opened Spirit Sight, the shadow's soul flickered—deep fear… and a pinprick of delight.
So you had a hand somewhere, Sogetsu filed it away, saying only, "I've heard their illusions are strong."
"Strong—so what?" a rasp of disdain. "Controlling senses didn't stop their end."
They passed unopposed, sank through stone into a hidden cavern.
"Here he comes—here he comes—shh, don't scare the guest—this the guy Lord Madara picked? Looks kinda flimsy—maybe Lord Madara's senile—"
Figures tottered out of the dark—ten-odd White Zetsu, chalk-pale, half-faces blank, bodies featureless, voices nasal and identical. They circled Sogetsu, gawping, snickering.
"Shut up, White Zetsu," Black Zetsu snapped, already nursing a headache.
"Can I kill them?" Sogetsu's mouth twitched; his voice went Arctic.
"Kyaaa he's scary—!"
"He's gonna kill us—!"
"Save us, Lord Madara—!"
"Do it," Black Zetsu said, cold as a gavel.
Sogetsu vanished.
Shh-shh-shh—
A knife-fine breeze passed. Silence fell. Pale bodies slid apart in neat sections and hit the stone with soft, damp thuds.
Fast, Black Zetsu's pupils pin-pricked. Even it hadn't tracked the cut.
Among scattered limbs, a black-coated youth pushed his glasses, eyes calm as a well; the tomoe in his irises turned like slow ink. "If that was the test, I've passed."
"It was," Black Zetsu conceded, now respectful. "Madara-dono is inside."
Sogetsu walked deeper. The tunnel widened into a bright cavern. An ancient man waited on a stone bench, skin paper-thin over bone, a bouquet of tubes at his back, breath thin as smoke—yet the eyes… even clouded, they held a pressure like a mountain.
Two eras met; sparks leapt in the silence.
"Uchiha Madara?"
"Uchiha Sogetsu."
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