The dim corridors of the Akatsuki base stretched endlessly like veins of shadow carved into stone. A chill lingered in the air, heavy and suffocating, as though even the walls themselves were holding their breath. It was here, in this oppressive silence, that Black Zetsu hurriedly emerged, his face as dark and unreadable as a stormcloud. His steps were swift, but his heart was filled with unease that he could not conceal, a gnawing anxiety that refused to be quieted.
The moment his figure appeared, a whirl of distorted space rippled nearby. Obito materialized before him, his single eye burning with impatience. He moved quickly, striding toward Zetsu, his voice sharp with urgency.
"Zetsu," Obito demanded, "how was your investigation?"
The darkness of Black Zetsu's form deepened, as if his mood itself was thickening the shadows around him. His face was a mask, cold and devoid of emotion, yet behind that void was a torrent of anger and dissatisfaction. He stared at Obito, though Obito could not see his true expression.
Suppressing his fury with effort, Black Zetsu finally spoke, each word restrained but edged with a biting intensity.
"Obito," he said slowly, "what exactly happened that day between you and Uchiha Gen? Tell me everything—every detail, word for word."
Obito frowned, his tone reluctant, almost dismissive. "Let me think…"
Memories flickered in his mind like shards of broken glass—Izumi's indifferent tone, the calm smile that had unsettled him, the quiet inevitability of his death that night. Piece by piece, Obito recounted the encounter, his voice low but steady, as though speaking aloud lessened the weight pressing down on his chest.
Black Zetsu listened with grave attention, his expression growing increasingly severe. The more he heard, the deeper the shadows seemed to pool around him.
"Concept enhancement?" Zetsu muttered under his breath, his voice laced with doubt. "Assisting another Mangekyō Sharingan? Impossible…" His golden eyes narrowed sharply. "Could it be you're lying to me, concealing the true nature of his Sharingan's ability?"
Obito shook his head, irritation flickering across his face. "No. At the very least, my visual prowess was enhanced. And he placed a contract on me."
For a long moment, Black Zetsu was silent. Inside, he seethed. You are truly a fool, Obito. Even Uchiha Itachi did not fall for such tricks… yet you did.
"Yes," Obito continued, forcing himself to sound calm, "that's how it was." He reached into his cloak and pulled out a small glass vial. Inside, sealed in preservative fluid, floated a pair of eyes—Izumi's Mangekyō Sharingan. Without hesitation, he tossed the bottle to Black Zetsu.
"These eyes contain the Power of Annihilation," Obito said grimly. "Tell me, Zetsu… is there a way to use them to reverse this disaster?"
Black Zetsu caught the vial, his dark hand closing around it tightly. For a moment, he did not speak. He simply gazed into the bottle, into the swirling tomoe of the Mangekyō. Even sealed away, the eyes radiated an oppressive aura, eerie and suffocating, as if they carried the weight of death itself. A chill ran down his spine.
"Indeed…" he finally said, his voice low and cautious. "That is a good idea. However, these abilities are beyond anything we understand. If we act rashly, we may unleash a calamity far worse than what we hope to avoid."
White Zetsu, who had been lounging carelessly nearby, suddenly spoke up, his tone light, almost mocking. "Why don't I try them? If anyone can test their abilities safely, it's me. Maybe I'll discover something useful."
Black Zetsu's golden eyes flashed with fury. He turned and glared at his counterpart. His voice was sharp as a blade.
"No! Absolutely not. Until we fully uncover the truth behind Izumi's eyes, no one—especially you—will attempt a transplant. If these eyes conceal some hidden trap, some resurrection method or cursed contingency, then meddling with them blindly will trigger a disaster none of us can control!"
White Zetsu only shrugged, smirking faintly, but Obito's expression grew serious. He nodded in agreement. "I thought of that as well. That's why I haven't dared to act rashly."
Black Zetsu scoffed inwardly. As if you could figure it out even if you tried…
Silence fell for a moment, broken only by the faint sound of dripping water echoing through the base's stone walls. Finally, Black Zetsu spoke again, his voice softer, more measured.
"What about Uchiha Itachi? Has he spoken of this matter?"
Obito shook his head. "He knows nothing. He isn't even aware that Izumi possessed a hidden Mangekyō Sharingan."
A deep frown creased Black Zetsu's face. His mind whirred with possibilities, with schemes and contingencies. He looked again at the vial in his hand, at the cold, unblinking eyes of Izumi.
"Itachi will find out eventually," he murmured. "This has grown beyond a secret. It concerns the survival of the entire ninja world. He will be drawn into it, whether he wishes it or not." His gaze sharpened. "And not just Itachi. The entire Akatsuki must be involved. None of us can remain on the sidelines any longer."
---
Far from the Akatsuki base, beneath the heart of Konoha, darkness swallowed the secret chambers of the Root organization. Silence hung heavy, broken only by the faint rasp of labored breathing.
Danzo Shimura sat alone in the gloom, his body hunched forward in his chair, his right hand clutching desperately at his eye. His expression was twisted with pain. Cold sweat beaded on his pale forehead and slid down his cheeks. His breaths came in ragged gasps as if every inhale was a battle.
Ever since the day Shisui's Sharingan had undergone its strange transformation—its light abruptly extinguished—Danzo had known no peace. Outwardly, he maintained his mask of calm authority, but inwardly he was plagued by torment.
In the recesses of his mind, Shisui's voice echoed ceaselessly, ghostly and inescapable. It was not the voice of a man, but of something beyond, like a whisper dragged from the abyss of the netherworld.
"The ninja world… needs nuclear peace…"
"This world should not have ninjas at all…"
"Ninja are the root of war, the source of suffering… Only complete destruction can bring true peace…"
The words were cold, merciless, and unrelenting. They gnawed at Danzo's consciousness, battering against his mental defenses like waves against a crumbling wall.
"Kotoamatsukami… does it even exist?"
Day after day, these whispers eroded his sanity. He tried everything—meditation, suppression, even sealing techniques—to rid himself of the curse. But each attempt failed. The voice always returned, whispering its apocalyptic gospel.
At last, rage burst through his torment. His nails dug into the flesh of his face, nearly tearing his skin, as he roared hoarsely into the darkness.
"Shisui! I never thought you were such a man… Your Sharingan—it was a trap all along!"
His voice shook with fury and despair. His mind was breaking. In desperation, Danzo suddenly raised his hand. His fingers hooked into claws as he reached for his own eye, intending to tear the cursed orb from its socket.
But just as his nails brushed his eyelid, his arm froze midair, trembling violently. His chest heaved, his breath ragged. He fought against himself, against the urge to be free of the curse.
"No… I can't… I need this eye. It is my power. I am Danzo. I am the Root of Konoha! I cannot be controlled!"
Yet even as he screamed in defiance, Shisui's voice returned, merciless as ever.
"Nuclear peace… the end of the ninja world… This is the only correct choice…"
Danzo shuddered. Images forced their way into his mind—visions of a future drowned in silence, the world reduced to rubble and ash. Cities crumbled, forests burned, oceans dried. All life extinguished. Only endless darkness remained.
"No!" he roared, his voice echoing through the underground chamber. "I am Danzo Shimura! I am the Root of Konoha! I will not be destroyed by you!"
But his body betrayed him. The Wood Release cells he had grafted into himself suddenly flared to life. Power surged uncontrollably, bursting outward in wild growth. Thick roots and vines exploded from his body, tearing through the stone walls of the chamber, twisting violently in all directions.
"Not good!" Danzo gasped. He struggled to suppress the rampaging power, pouring all his chakra into restraint. But the force was overwhelming, like a flood breaking free of its dam.
And then, from deeper beneath Konoha, something stirred. The withered wood born from Uchiha Gen's corpse sensed the outburst. Slowly, eerily, it extended tendrils of dead roots, grafting themselves onto Danzo's rampaging Wood Release. Like veins reuniting, they merged seamlessly into one.
Danzo fought desperately, sweat pouring from his face, until finally, with monumental effort, he forced the power back under control. His chest rose and fell violently as he gasped for breath.
Unbeknownst to him, however, the withered wood of Uchiha Gen had already flowed back into his body, seeping silently into his cells. The countless Sharingan embedded along his right arm glowed faintly, now tinged with an unsettling, alien aura.
And Danzo Shimura, trembling in exhaustion, realized none of it.
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