Wave Country had grown quieter, but quiet did not mean still.
Ren sat cross-legged inside the storehouse that had become their headquarters, charcoal smudges on his fingers, scrolls scattered like an unfinished map. He drew neat columns: names of men, their skills, their debts, and what they feared most. Numbers bled into lines of supply—grain from the coast, timber for the bridge, coin that once flowed to Gato now redirected into hidden purses under his seal.
The Eclipse Order was no longer just three blades in the dark. It was taking shape.
He glanced up. In one corner, Zabuza and Haku sparred—steel on steel muted by restraint. Zabuza barked corrections, not softening his strikes for the boy. Haku moved with fluid grace, always measured, always precise. Beside them, Gojo sprawled across a crate of fish nets, half-asleep, half-smirking, like the whole exercise was his entertainment.
Ren pressed his thumb into the parchment. This is only the beginning.
His mind flicked back to the story he remembered. Wave was supposed to be Naruto's proving ground. Here the boy would first roar his dream to the world. But with Gato gone early, with Zabuza and Haku at his side, the script had already changed. The bridge would still rise, but its shadow belonged to the Eclipse Order.
Ren tapped his charcoal against the scroll. "We need structure."
Zabuza snorted mid-swing. "We've got strength. That's enough."
"No," Ren said firmly. "Strength without discipline is just noise. If we want to last, we need ranks. Duties. Cells that move without drawing attention."
Gojo cracked one eye open. "Oh? So what are you, Boss? Chairman of the Board? Or maybe Supreme Overlord of Fish Ledgers?"
Ren ignored the jab. "Zabuza, you'll head combat cells. Direct action, raids, intimidation. Haku—logistics, intelligence, diplomacy. People trust your face more than mine."
Haku inclined his head, accepting without hesitation. Zabuza grunted but didn't argue.
"And you, Gojo?" Ren asked.
Gojo stretched, grin widening. "Mascot. Obviously."
Ren gave him a flat look.
Gojo chuckled. "Relax, Boss. I'll play watchdog. If anyone tries to smash your little toy castle, they'll find me at the gate."
It wasn't exactly obedience, but it was enough.
Ren leaned over the parchment again. Slowly, carefully, he began to draw the first outline of something more than a gang. Something that might one day rival even the hidden villages. A chain, link by link.
Far away, in a tower that pierced the endless rain, another order gathered.
Nagato sat rigid in the throne-like chair of the central chamber, eyes of rippling rings staring down at the table. Konan stood at his side, paper flowers folded into her hair, her gaze sharp. The others had gathered by projection, flickering bodies of chakra and will.
A report lay open between them, parchment damp from the journey.
Konan read aloud, her voice steady. "Wave Country has stabilized faster than expected after Gato's fall. A blindfolded man was seen leading thugs out of the streets. A boy with the Sharingan fought mercenaries at the unfinished bridge. Momochi Zabuza is rumored to be involved."
Kisame laughed, sharp teeth flashing. "Zabuza? That shark finally left the Mist and picked up work for a brat? I almost respect it."
Deidara scoffed. "Tch. Sharingan again. That eye ruins art wherever it shows up."
Sasori said nothing, but the faint tilt of his head spoke volumes: interest, calculation, a craftsman cataloguing tools.
Nagato raised a hand. Silence returned. His voice carried through the chamber, deep and implacable. "Wave Country is not our concern. Our objective remains the Tailed Beasts. Yet… anomalies cannot be ignored."
Konan's paper wings rustled faintly. "A blindfolded man able to deflect attacks without chakra manipulation is no ordinary mercenary. And if a Uchiha child survived…"
"Then Konoha grows weaker by the day," Nagato said. His eyes narrowed, not with curiosity, but with cold purpose. "Keep watch. Do not interfere. For now."
The projections flickered out one by one. Rain pounded harder against the tower's shell.
Only Konan and Nagato remained. She lowered her voice. "Do you believe the rumors? About the blindfolded man?"
Nagato did not answer at once. He looked beyond the rain, as if searching for a shape he could not yet see. "If he stood against the Nine-Tails that night… then he is dangerous. Dangerous enough that even Madara hides his reaction."
In the deeper dark, away from Akatsuki's tower, Obito listened to the same words.
He leaned against the cavern wall, mask hiding everything but the faint gleam of his eye. White Zetsu crouched nearby, idly shaping the stone floor into little faces before smashing them flat. Black Zetsu slithered along the rock, voice low, watching Obito's silence.
Finally, Obito spoke.
"That night should have been mine." His voice was rough, pulled taut. "The Nine-Tails should have broken Konoha. Minato should have died by my hand, not by sealing himself into legend. But it didn't happen that way. Because of him."
Zetsu tilted its head. "The blindfold?"
Obito's fist clenched. "He walked through fire with a child in his arms. Fire didn't touch him. Kurama's claws stopped short. Weapons bent around him like the air itself turned traitor. He wasn't using chakra. He wasn't using any jutsu I've ever seen."
White Zetsu chuckled. "Maybe he's a ghost. Boo."
Black Zetsu ignored the joke. "Not chakra. Something else. That makes him dangerous. And now he leads. He builds. Power like that in the hands of an organizer…"
"—is unacceptable," Obito finished, voice low. He pushed from the wall, mask turning toward the endless tunnels. "A child Uchiha with two tomoe is nothing. But in the hands of this… blindfolded demon, he becomes a symbol. Symbols become seeds. And seeds grow into thorns."
Zetsu shifted, eyes narrowing. "Do we move?"
Obito shook his head slowly. "No. Not yet. I wear one mask already. There's no need to show another until I must. We watch. We wait. When the time comes, Wave will learn what true despair looks like."
For a long time he stood silent, lost in memory—smoke, fire, the roar of a fox, and a figure who smiled like the world could never touch him.
"I'll erase him," Obito whispered. "When the time is right."
Back in Wave, Ren closed another scroll and rubbed his eyes. His body was small, but his mind never stopped turning. He thought of Konoha, of Akatsuki, of wars yet to come. He thought of chains, invisible but strong, binding one nation to the next.
"Boss," Gojo called lazily from the doorway, "you're overthinking again."
Ren looked up, Sharingan fading back to black.
"Maybe," he admitted. "But someone has to."
Gojo grinned. "That's what makes you fun."
And outside, Wave Country slept, not knowing that two shadows had already marked them: one building, one waiting to tear it down.