Black patiently watched the world warp in on itself, space bending as it spat Uchiha Madara or rather, “Obito…” his fists curled into clenched hamrs and Black corrected himself, though he didn’t want to, “Madara, you’ve returned and you have failed.”
He was silent but Black Zetsu could sense the whirl of emotions within him, powerful as he had gotten since the death of the Madara Uchiha, he had yet to control how readable his hatred and fury was through his chakra, he had yet to beco unfazed by the hell of the world their mission required them to change.
Black wasn’t disappointed, he had been there to witness his first confrontation with a Kage, the bar for success was reasonably higher than it would be with other shinobi. However, he was confused as to why they weren’t successful, why he had failed and it seed Obito- Madara was as well.
“Karatachi Yagura is…” His hands lingered on the chip in his mask, he pulled it off his face and let his scowl known, “He is far more perceptive than I imagined.”
“He is the Mizukage.” Black answered, though he himself knew that was a hollow response, there had to be more they weren’t seeing. “Your Genjutsu and Kamui failed to take him by surprise, failed to subdue him.”
Madara walked up to and sat at his desk, the air wavered as his chakra warbled with his fluctuating emotions. He rested his mask and arm over the desk, ran a hand through his hair as his eyes looked far beyond what was in front of him, “No, it was more than that. He…he tested his attacks against . At first glance I thought…no, he knew of , of my ability.”
“How could he? You have never revealed yourself to Kirigakure until now. None of their ANBU from the night of your awakening survived to beg for rcy, much less return to give a report.” White chid in, his words all true and yet…
Madara shook his head, leaned back against the chair as the air around him began to stabilise along with his emotions, “He called an imposter. That word, its specific use ans he must know sothing. It is the only thing that makes sense about his actions now. He had agents infiltrate Agakure for what? Hahahah, he lies. Investigating the Sandai Mizukage’s death? In Agakure? Why? There is nothing between Kirigakure and Agakure.”
Black considered that for a mont and found it suspicious indeed. White grinned and gloated, “I told you so.” Madara snapped a glare at them and White shrunk but not as much as he would usually, “Nevermind the Mizukage, he could still not lay a finger on you whereas his entire village is within our grasp.” Black said, his voice low as he asked the next question, “How was it reuniting with your past?”
Madara looked away, his eye narrowed as he felt over the scarred side of his face, “He didn’t recognize .”
Black chuckled sinisterly, “And why would he? Did he ever? Look what he does with the Mizukage now, don’t tell you believe he could see anything more than what benefits Konoha. She, you never mattered enough.”
Chakra pressure spiked around Madara, sending a crack through the desk his arm rested upon, he glared at Zetsu and growled, “Enough.”
“Not yet.” Black said, weathering the glare more than White would like to, “Konan has been captured.”
His eyes widened a fraction before returning to calm indifference, “Is Nagato still fighting his past?”
“Danzo and Jiraiya have wisely chosen to retreat but you know Nagato, he doesn’t leave things unfinished.” White reported.
Madara gazed through them as he thought and planned. Black wanted to make a suggestion to intervene and kill all that had dared but he knew a lot of their plans depended on anonymity, sothing that may have been broken due to today’s failure. Perhaps he can still fix this.
Madara wore his mask and stood, silently activating his Kamui Black quickly asked as he stood nearby its effective range, “Where to?”
“Nagato,” Madara replied, his tone calm but resolute. “These things require personality.”
In an instant, the dim, stony depths of Madara’s hideout imploded into a vortex of bending space and collapsing ti. The pressure intensified, air stretching like shadows in a nightmare, and then released them just as swiftly into a new domain. Madara’s hideout disappeared, replaced by a scene just as oppressive and haunting.
A bitter, cold rain dripped rhythmically from high above, filling the air with the scent of damp rust and decaying stone. They had appeared within Nagato’s tower, the grim citadel piercing through the cloud-heavy skies of Agakure. Rain poured endlessly, an unyielding cascade that seed to draw the warmth from the very air. The slick stone walls of the chamber bore grooves from countless seasons of water’s erosion, echoing the relentless will of the man they ca to see.
Nagato sat entrenched within his machine at the centre of the room, his skeletal form intertwined with its intricate chanisms. The device seed as much a prison as a throne, pulsing with his life force. Cold, hollow eyes, windows of a Rinnegan, stared out into the room’s darkness, almost vacant, as surely half his consciousness road far beyond, puppeteering at least four of his Six Paths.
Madara stood silently, waiting for the barest acknowledgent from the red-haired Uzumaki. After a few seconds, Nagato’s gaze fixed upon them, flickering to life, calculating yet distant. Though his fra appeared almost wraith-like, his power was tangible, saturating the air with a quiet but fierce command that only cared to deliver pain.
“Madara, have you co at last to aid your ally?” Nagato demanded, the deepening scowl on his lips was unmissable.
“Of course, though I doubt you need much help.” Madara answered smoothly.
“Konan did,” Nagato replied. “But I will retrieve her with or without your aid.” He turned away, seemingly answering so silent call only he could hear, the rasp of tal and leather echoing through the hollow chamber.
“Do not worry for Konan, Nagato,” Madara assured him. “She will be taken care of, as will Konoha and their minions. Pursue Jiraiya and Danzo all you want but do not leave Agakure.”
Nagato’s brow furrowed, and he turned back to face Madara, Rinnegan flashing with intensity. “And why not?” he growled.
“The Akatsuki and Agakure are not ready for the full attention of two shinobi villages. Kirigakure and Konohagakure are on the verge of an alliance, and you—”
“No.”
Madara’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “What?”
“No, I will end Jiraiya and the worms he brought along with him,” Nagato responded, his voice low but forceful. “Plot as you please, but do not attempt to herd , nor place on the sa pedestal of strength as yourself. I am a God.”
Black groaned as White Zetsu’s grin widened, enjoying Nagato’s words far more than they should. Madara inhaled, stepping closer to the machine and looking up at Nagato’s frail yet resolute figure.
“I understand what you feel for Jiraiya in this mont, Nagato,” Madara said, keeping his tone asured. “But a fleeting mont of satisfaction is not worth the new world we are creating. Leave things to . I’ve already accelerated the tiline. Konoha will be the first of nations to tremble with pain. All I ask of you and Konan is that you advance your recruitnt efforts. Zetsu will guide you on the prospects I have in mind.”
Silence stretched between them. Nagato’s gaze flickered with a deep, dark calculation, each second punctuated by the persistent dripping of rain from above. At last, he blinked, conceding with a slight nod. “Jiraiya has escaped.” His voice was emotionless, a re whisper edged with faint disgust, perhaps with himself for allowing the Sannin to evade capture.
Madara nodded, almost grateful. “We will begin capturing the Tailed Beasts once all ten mbers of the Akatsuki are assembled, but Konoha… and Kirigakure will be our points of interest. The Mizukage is especially stubborn.”
Nagato’s Rinnegan eyes flashed, locking onto Madara. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Madara. Know I won’t be patient or understanding. Be quick with Konan’s return, or I will take matters into my own hands.”
Madara glanced back at Zetsu, delivering an unspoken command in his reddened gaze before returning his attention to Nagato. The familiar swirl of Kamui began to envelop him, a blackened vortex that seed to devour the very air.
“Always a pleasure, Nagato,” he said, voice fading as he vanished from the tower, leaving behind only shadows and the unending rain.
Left with the so-called “god,” White Zetsu’s grin lingered, revelling in the tension Nagato radiated. But before he could say anything rash, Black Zetsu spoke first, his tone decisive.
“We should begin recruitnt with individuals strong enough for our purposes but ultimately expendable for their attachnt to this world and its concerns. Kakuzu the Immortal will be a good start.”
“Then find him.”
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