On the border of the Land of Water, the mist was so thick it seemed less like vapor and more like a creeping shadow, swallowing the world inch by inch.
Within that oppressive haze, three figures lingered in silence—Black Zetsu, Uchiha Itachi, and Biwa Jūzō—their forms battered, their chakra signatures ragged.
The battle against Obito and Danzō had been nothing short of disastrous.
Itachi knelt on the ground, breath shallow, face pale as bleached paper. His body trembled with exhaustion, and his eyes—once keen, sharp, and calculating—were dimmed, blood seeping faintly from the corners. Obito's assault with the Mangekyō had left wounds not only on his body, but etched deep into his mind.
Black Zetsu's expression twisted, a rare sight of disbelief flashing across his ink-black features. Even he, the patient shadow of centuries, had not foreseen this unraveling.
Just as despair seemed to anchor itself, a fluttering sound cut through the suffocating mist.
Sheets of paper descended like pale autumn leaves, drifting in delicate spirals. From them, Konan emerged, her form assembling with calm precision. Her eyes, sharp and steady, fell on the battered group.
"This is no time to linger over the ruins of the Land of Water," she said, her voice cool, unwavering. "We must return to Amegakure immediately. Stabilizing the village comes before all else."
Her words, firm yet measured, pierced through the oppressive silence. Black Zetsu finally stirred, lifting his head slightly. His thoughts churned in shadowed complexity. For the first time in a long while, he sensed the threads of fate slipping beyond his grasp.
The battle had transformed Kirigakure into nothing more than a smoldering graveyard—a hatchery of calamity. Meanwhile, the Leaf's internal strife brewed unseen, beyond his reach.
And above all… there was Nagato.
"Perhaps," Black Zetsu thought grimly, "he truly is the final hope of this era…"
But the truth gnawed at him: in his current weakened state, he could not properly guide Nagato, nor ensure the grand design's continuation.
Slowly, his gaze fell upon the slumped Itachi.
Without a word, Black Zetsu moved forward, his blackened hand stretching. From his palm, pale matter oozed forth, writhing like living clay. It peeled away in viscous strands before fusing into Itachi's broken body.
Itachi gasped softly. A strange warmth spread through him, flowing into his veins like fire and water at once. His fatigue ebbed, his flesh knitted, and even the turbulent storm within his eyes subsided. His third eye—dangerously unstable moments before—closed at last, falling into uneasy dormancy.
From the side, Konan's eyes narrowed. "...White Zetsu? It can heal so effectively?"
Black Zetsu waved dismissively, his tone deliberately casual."A trivial matter. White Zetsu clones can be used to replenish chakra and vitality. For wounds of the body or spirit, they are… convenient."
"Replenish… vitality and chakra?" Konan repeated quietly, unease settling in her chest.
Zetsu tilted his head, as though unbothered. He allowed three more White Zetsu masses to peel away from his body, tossing them lightly onto the damp ground before Konan's feet.
"These things have countless uses," he said, tone flat, almost careless. "You should take them as well. Perhaps they'll be useful in the future."
The paper-woman's eyes lingered on the clones, her instincts recoiling. They pulsed faintly, as though breathing, and she felt a subtle wrongness radiating from them. A hidden trap? A curse? She could not shake her suspicion.
Her fingers twitched, ready to refuse—
But then a familiar voice, strained yet commanding, echoed in her mind.
"Konan… take them."
Her head turned slightly. In the shadows beyond, concealed by the mist, Nagato stirred. His breathing was labored, his cough wet and violent, but his words were resolute.
Konan's heart clenched. "Nagato, we don't yet know what schemes lie hidden in these things. What if Zetsu—"
Another fit of coughing, then his voice again, rasping yet unyielding:"Konan. We have no choice. If I am to recover—if we are to guide the world into true peace—then even the faintest chance of healing must be seized. Do not hesitate. The world cannot wait for our doubts."
Silence weighed heavy. Then, at last, Konan exhaled slowly and extended her hand, gathering the writhing White Zetsu fragments into her paper.
"I understand, Nagato," she said quietly. Her eyes softened, but her shoulders remained tense. "I will cooperate with you."
Black Zetsu watched her carefully, though his expression betrayed nothing. Inwardly, he nodded with satisfaction.
The seeds had been sown.
And from here, Nagato—bound by weakness, driven by desperation—would walk exactly where Zetsu needed him.
Yes… now, at last, the world would hail him as its savior.
The Uchiha Clan district was cloaked in a suffocating silence, the sky above thick with low, gray clouds that pressed down like an iron lid.
When Tsunade, Jiraiya, and the Third Hokage Hiruzen Sarutobi arrived, the devastation that met their eyes left them shaken to their cores.
What had once been a proud and vibrant district was now nothing more than charred ruins. The ground was scorched black, the air still heavy with the acrid stench of burnt wood and seared flesh. The faint outlines of ancestral homes stood like hollow shells, their silence a monument to destruction.
But even more jarring than the sight of ruin was the tableau that greeted them in the center of it all.
Senju Tobirama, the Second Hokage, stood rigid, his face grave, and at his side lingered a shadow that made all three freeze in shock—Orochimaru, the traitor of Konoha, long branded a criminal.
For a moment, even the howling wind seemed to stop.
Hiruzen's voice, when it finally broke the silence, was raw with disbelief and anger."What... have you two done?"
His tone trembled as much from dread as fury. Somewhere deep inside, he already feared the answer.
Jiraiya's eyes locked on his former teammate, his voice harsher than steel."Orochimaru... Why are you here? What have you done?"
Orochimaru did not sneer, nor mock, as was his custom. Instead, he exhaled a long, weary breath, his expression unreadable, yet touched by something almost like resignation.
"The Second Hokage and I attempted to summon Uchiha Shisui with Edo Tensei... hoping his power might undo Uchiha Gen's cursed vision of the world's end."
His words fell like thunder.
A suffocating silence followed. Tsunade's eyes widened in disbelief, Jiraiya's face froze mid-scowl, and Hiruzen's color drained until he looked as pale as the ashes around them. His body trembled faintly, his voice breaking when he spoke:
"Teacher! How could you? How could you trample on life and soul so recklessly? You know the cost of that forbidden art, better than anyone! And yet you—"
His accusation was almost a plea.
Tobirama said nothing at first. His face was stone, but beneath the steel his silence admitted everything. He did not excuse himself, nor did he cast blame on Orochimaru. He had gambled with the unthinkable, and failed.
When he finally spoke, his tone was low, cutting."Then tell me, Hiruzen. What else would you have us do? Stand idle as the apocalypse bears down on this world? Place our hope in your benevolence... your goodwill?"
His words were like a blade to the heart. Hiruzen faltered, lips parting, but no reply came.
The silence stretched, heavy with accusation, until Jiraiya broke it. His voice was steadier, more practical."Enough. Arguments won't change what's already done. What matters now... is the result. Second Hokage—what happened?"
Tobirama's gaze flickered, then slid away.
It was Orochimaru who answered in his stead, his voice as calm as it was chilling."Uchiha Gen's curse has... shifted. Mutated in ways we could not predict. It may no longer be confined to the Sharingan. Other bloodlines may fall victim in time. As for the scale of this mutation... we cannot yet grasp its full extent."
The words weighed heavier than stone.
Hiruzen closed his eyes briefly, his chest rising and falling with weariness. "Teacher... such consequences..."
But Tobirama cut him off sharply, his voice ringing with iron resolve.
"Enough! We cannot waste time with regret. Begin preparations at once. A Five Kage Summit must be convened. This threat is beyond Konoha's power alone." His gaze hardened, his voice like thunder. "And the Akatsuki of Amegakure must be included. We will need them too."
Hiruzen opened his eyes again, gazing long at his teacher and at Orochimaru, his expression clouded with conflict. At last, he released a long, bitter sigh."...It seems there is no other choice."
The group began to disperse, each mind heavy with the impossible task ahead. But Jiraiya lingered, his sharp eyes still fixed on Orochimaru.
"So then... does this mean you're returning to Konoha?"
The question was simple, but it landed like a hammer.
Orochimaru's lips curled faintly, his eyes narrowing with irritation."Idiot. What purpose is there in asking something so pointless now?"
But Jiraiya only laughed—loud, boisterous, almost defiant. His eyes softened with rare warmth."Maybe it's pointless... but I don't care. I'm just glad, that in this moment, the three of us stand in the village again. Even if the world ends tomorrow... at least the Sannin will fall together."
Tsunade's fist clenched, her temper flaring."Idiot Jiraiya! Don't you dare say such unlucky things!"
Orochimaru, however, only chuckled lowly, shaking his head. His voice was dry, but beneath it lingered a flicker of something almost human."Fool."