The instant Uchiha Itachi appeared, the Masked Man retreated into the swirling vortex of his space-time jutsu without hesitation, vanishing into the Kamui dimension.
Orochimaru's golden, snake-like eyes followed the distortion carefully, memorizing every detail. His expression was calm, but behind that calmness, his mind was already dissecting what he had seen.
That ability… a space-time technique that allowed complete withdrawal from the battlefield. No ordinary Mangekyō Sharingan could perform something like that. Interesting. Extremely interesting.
Silently, Orochimaru's body melted into the ground like a shadow sinking into mud. He left no trace, only a faint ripple in the soil as he seeped away.
Moments later, deep within a secluded forest outside the Land of Rice Fields, the ground bubbled, and Orochimaru's pale figure rose from the earth like a corpse climbing out of a grave.
The forest was deathly quiet. A light mist curled around the trees, carrying the faint scent of damp moss. Yet Orochimaru was not alone.
At the entrance to the grove, Uchiha Itachi stood, his black cloak of the Akatsuki stirring lightly in the night breeze. His crimson Sharingan eyes glowed faintly, calm yet suffocating.
Orochimaru's lips curled into a faint smile, neither friendly nor hostile.
"Itachi," he drawled, his voice silky, edged with mockery, "did you come all the way here to deliver a message?"
His tone carried a subtle provocation, testing, always probing for a reaction.
Itachi's face was expressionless, his voice even colder.
"The leader sent me. He wants to know when you will return to the Hidden Rain Village."
"Heh…" Orochimaru's tongue flicked briefly, his amusement thinly veiled. "Regarding that little planet falling from the heavens, I still have some data left to collect. Surely, such important research cannot be rushed."
Itachi did not blink. He did not argue, but his silence itself was pressure. His voice, when it came, was calm and absolute.
"The leader's meaning is clear. You will return within three days. The Akatsuki will make its appearance during the Five Kage Summit… and you are required to be present."
The words Five Kage Summit made Orochimaru's eyes narrow slightly.
So that was Nagato's intention.
He wanted to display Akatsuki's might at the highest stage, before all the great nations. To use fear of destruction as a chain to bind the Five Great Shinobi Countries together under his command.
A grand plan. Ambitious. Bold. And yet…
Naïve.
Orochimaru chuckled softly to himself. Nagato believed the villages would submit when faced with apocalypse, but Orochimaru knew better. The Five Great Nations would never bend so easily. Even Konoha alone would resist such manipulation.
Still smiling faintly, he nodded.
"Very well. I understand. I will be there… within three days."
Outwardly, his voice was calm. Inwardly, however, the decision was already made—Nagato's thinking was laughably idealistic. Remaining in Akatsuki any longer would only shackle his ambitions.
Itachi, satisfied with the answer, turned to leave. His cloak swayed as he moved, his back unguarded.
It was the opening Orochimaru had been waiting for.
From the sleeve of his robe, a serpent shot forth with lightning speed, fangs bared, striking straight for Itachi's neck.
But before the snake could strike, Itachi's head turned sharply, Sharingan blazing.
In that instant, Orochimaru's body froze as if pierced by invisible chains. His breath caught in his throat, and the world itself seemed to shatter around him.
That gaze…
Cold. Merciless. Eternal.
The Mangekyō Sharingan's power pressed against his mind like a crushing weight, suffocating, overwhelming.
"Orochimaru," Itachi's voice was quiet, but it carried the chill of winter steel. "Before these eyes, you are powerless."
Those words, spoken without arrogance yet with undeniable truth, pierced Orochimaru's pride.
Anger flared within him. Rage. Humiliation.
Danzo had spoken those words to him before. And now Itachi repeated them. Was he always to be dismissed, belittled, crushed beneath the Uchiha's eyes?
His fingers twitched uselessly. The snake that had struck froze in midair, its fangs trembling inches away from Itachi's skin.
Seconds passed. Long, suffocating seconds.
Then Itachi released him. The genjutsu faded like a mist.
Without another glance, Itachi turned and walked away, his figure fading into the forest shadows, calm and untouchable.
Orochimaru stood still, his pale face half-hidden in darkness. His palms were damp with cold sweat.
Fear? No. Not fear.
Excitement.
That feeling—the suffocating despair in the face of true power—it set his blood on fire. It reminded him of what he desired above all else.
The Sharingan. The Mangekyō. The truth of the Uchiha's cursed eyes.
As he lingered in that thrill, the darkness rippled, and the Masked Man emerged once more, his swirling mask glinting faintly.
"Orochimaru," the Masked Man said coldly, "provoking Uchiha Itachi is reckless. Now is not the time."
Orochimaru chuckled, unbothered. "Heh… I only wished to confirm the terror of those eyes. Indeed, the Sharingan is a terrifying weapon."
The Masked Man did not press further. He had seen enough.
Instead, his voice shifted, focused. "What of your Edo Tensei plan? How far has it progressed?"
"Almost complete," Orochimaru said smoothly. "But for perfection, I require your assistance, Lord Madara."
The Masked Man tilted his head. "Corpses. You need powerful corpses."
"Indeed," Orochimaru hissed softly. "I trust this won't be… troublesome?"
The Masked Man gave a low chuckle. "For me? Child's play. I can infiltrate any village, harvest what is needed. Corpses, samples—it matters little. Their defenses are already spread thin preparing for Akatsuki's spectacle. I will move freely."
Orochimaru's lips stretched in a delighted grin. "You are truly dependable, Lord Madara."
The Masked Man nodded once, assured. "This is our cooperation."
But Orochimaru wasn't finished. His eyes gleamed with a new thought. "Oh, and one more thing…"
The Masked Man raised an eyebrow behind the mask. "Speak."
Orochimaru leaned forward slightly, his voice soft, dangerous, full of anticipation.
"Uchiha Itachi's younger brother… Sasuke. Could you bring him to me?"
For a moment, silence. Then the Masked Man chuckled lowly.
"Leave it to me."
Orochimaru's grin widened.
How amusing. The Masked Man agreed so easily. Was it because he truly cared nothing for Sasuke? Or because he saw him only as another pawn against Itachi?
Either way, it revealed something important.
Orochimaru's thoughts deepened, circling like snakes in the dark.
Uchiha Gen's genjutsu—the mysterious Mangekyō control—did not bind this Masked Man absolutely. It was not domination, but guidance. Subconscious influence, not complete erasure of will.
Danzo and the Masked Man acted with different logic, sometimes even contradictory. Proof that the jutsu had limits. Rules. Loopholes.
For a scientist like Orochimaru, this was gold.
If he could observe further… experiment further… perhaps he could uncover the true structure of Uchiha Gen's power.
The risks were high. Sasuke was dangerous. The Masked Man was unpredictable. But the lure of knowledge, the truth of the Uchiha's eyes, was irresistible.
Orochimaru's pale lips curved into a serpentine smile as he watched the Masked Man sink once more into darkness.
This game was only becoming more interesting.
And he would be at its center.
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