Chapter 90: Spread of Malice
"A nearly infinite repetitive loop? Yes… I think I understand now."
Adjusting his glasses, Aizen gazed at the suspended figure of Uchiha Kagami within the incubator. The pale light flickered against the glass, reflecting his calm, analytical expression.
"The left eye corresponds to a fixed point in time," he said softly, studying the readings. "While the right eye governs cyclical continuity. Together, they form a perpetual cycle—a closed temporal loop that can never be broken. The Mangekyō Sharingan functions in pairs, so their abilities often complement one another. This eliminates the only true variable."
He smiled faintly. "Indestructible, eternal… quite impressive."
"Impressive, sure," Sakumo muttered beside him, arms crossed. "But everything has a weakness."
"Indeed," Aizen agreed. "It cannot resist spiritual erosion. And when natural energy interferes, the chakra's restoration becomes unstable."
Sakumo frowned. "Meaning?"
"In essence," Aizen continued, "this Sharingan technique goes beyond simply merging will and chakra. It forcibly anchors chakra within fixed temporal stages, creating a false form of immortality. During this process, the chakra replenished between movements preserves the flow of the user's own time. But that comes at a cost."
He turned on a nearby console. Sparks of light rippled through the chamber. The liquid in the tank began to bubble as Kagami's body convulsed within. Data streamed across the monitors, converting into pages of dense, unreadable reports.
Aizen scanned them, his tone flat and unhurried.
"As expected. The Mangekyō's principle is sound, but its structure is predictable. There are others among the Uchiha in Konoha with similar configurations. Kagami is not exceptional—merely another fragment of the pattern."
He placed the report aside, exhaling lightly. "Just as Madara Uchiha once said, this one is merely a subject—a vessel moved by circumstance. Even if Madara wanted to intervene, he couldn't."
Aizen's voice deepened, echoing faintly through the laboratory.
"There is will within chakra. The tailed beasts are proof of that. But Kagami lacks the depth to embody it fully. His method is crude—a mechanical loop that fuses chakra and will by force. When his chakra runs dry before the cycle resets, he will collapse. His will erodes with each repetition. The limit, I estimate, is around eight thousand cycles. With the Eternal Mangekyō, perhaps one million at most."
He tapped the glass, watching the unconscious Uchiha twitch faintly.
"With today's level of technology, if one combined this with transplanted Wood Release cells, immortality might appear achievable. But natural energy erodes everything eventually. Without mastery over Yin Yang Release, his body will crumble under its own imbalance. In time, he'll die from the exhaustion of sustaining himself."
"Mm," Sakumo murmured, boredly swirling the last of his sake. "So even immortality's a fool's dream, huh?"
"In contrast," Aizen continued, ignoring him, "Uchiha Fugaku's Mangekyō ability is quite fascinating. He can glimpse fragments of the future—selecting the path most favorable to himself. Useful in both strategy and science."
"Predicting the future…" Sakumo tilted his head. "But only through chakra flow, right?"
"Precisely," Aizen replied. "He cannot foresee events influenced by natural energy. His vision is limited to the chakra dimension. Fascinating, yet still flawed."
Sakumo gave a small grunt. He wasn't sure which was worse—the endless talk or the fact that Aizen seemed perfectly content monologuing to a near catatonic test subject.
Ever since being pulled into this experiment, Hatake Sakumo had realized something: Aizen Sōsuke's talkativeness had evolved to a terrifying new level.
Whenever he came to report progress, he ended up hearing everything—from Aizen's layered theories to his multiphase plans.
And indeed, the plan was just as Aizen had described—audacious and methodical.
His death was an illusion. A catalyst to fracture Konoha from within. The chaos spreading across the village was deliberate—every conflict, every rebellion, a calculated experiment to measure chakra under stress.
But that wasn't the end of it.
According to Aizen's data, there existed a mysterious chakra source on the moon. The Moon Dream phenomenon—its power flow directly linked to lunar transmission—was amplifying emotional chakra across Konoha.
Konoha itself had become a vast petri dish.
The Uchiha's emotional turbulence, the widespread chakra interference, the crumbling barrier between family politics and government—all of it served Aizen's singular goal: to study the true nature of chakra and the will within it.
He wasn't seeking worship or power. Not even control. All Aizen wanted was understanding.
That, and confirmation of what he had long suspected—his own divinity within the system of chakra itself.
And amidst this storm of emotion, the Uchiha clan's heightened resonance produced results far beyond expectation.
In just three days, the amount of data and insight gathered surpassed a decade of conventional research.
Across the rain-soaked village, several Sharingan eyes had already begun to twist and evolve—blooming into Mangekyō.
Under the influence of emotion, even the chakra of Minato Namikaze—ordinarily calm and composed—began to shift in nature. The data from his chakra fluctuations, combined with observable physical changes, finally confirmed many of Aizen's longstanding theories.
There was no absolute boundary between chakra and the human body. Chakra was the body, and the body was chakra. The two could be interchanged through a certain form of signal. Every human in this world could be transformed into something beyond human if influenced by the right signal source.
This realization delighted Aizen. It reaffirmed the significance of his ongoing experiment.
"For now," he said with a faint smile, "the chaos isn't enough. The true actors have yet to appear. At the very least, the other ninja villages must also be drawn into this storm."
Hatake Sakumo looked up at him. "So… what exactly is the Moon Dream? Was it your doing?"
"Yes and no," Aizen replied, his tone light.
Sakumo frowned. "Meaning?"
"I experienced the Moon Dream myself," Aizen said calmly, "but I wasn't aware that the chakra signal's origin was located on the moon."
"I see."
Sakumo gave a short nod, choosing not to press further. He had learned the hard way that any additional question would trigger another one of Aizen's extensive lectures—on how the Moon Dream began, why he sought to reshape the world, and why this grand experiment was necessary.
He had endured such explanations for three days straight, to the point his mind felt numb. As Aizen's most trusted associate—or rather, the one he believed could never betray him—Sakumo had been exposed to more of Aizen's truth than any other living soul. Each revelation gnawed at his sanity.
"But are you really not going to tell them?" Sakumo asked, breaking the silence. "They trust you more than anyone."
"The time isn't right," Aizen replied.
He glanced briefly at the unconscious Uchiha Kagami floating within the containment tank, then turned toward the adjoining hallway.
"They rely on me too much," he continued. "Blind faith breeds blind obedience. I won't allow those with potential to become slaves to belief."
He paused by the doorway, speaking almost as if to himself.
"That's what destroyed the Will of Fire. It began as a noble ideal—a symbol of unity and strength. But once it became fixed, once the village clung to it as unchanging truth, growth stopped. A world that refuses uncertainty can no longer evolve."
He smiled faintly, the expression both serene and unsettling.
"I enjoy this era, Sakumo. Everyone grows amid struggle and conflict, yet they maintain their limits. No matter how dire things become, humanity never quite crosses the line into complete annihilation. It's this delicate balance—between danger and survival—that makes the world worth studying. A world that progresses through tension… that is the reality I wish to see."
Sakumo was silent for a long time. Then, without looking up, he muttered under his breath, (I don't think Konoha has that many people capable of meeting your expectations.)
He watched as Aizen walked through the corridor, operating machines with calm precision.
Sakumo couldn't refute Aizen's words. In his own way, he understood them. The Third Hokage had retreated into hiding, and those who remained—himself, Kakashi, and the others—were merely passengers on the same train, watching the world change.
He no longer felt anything for the village. His loyalty had died with his name. If anything, Aizen had given him something resembling purpose again. And when his son, Kakashi, began to show interest in Aizen's ideals, Sakumo's indifference turned to quiet devotion.
In that sense, he was Aizen's most faithful follower.
Aizen stopped in front of a steel door and pressed his palm to a seal. The door slid open with a hiss, revealing a chamber Sakumo recognized immediately.
"I intend to give Konoha a gift," Aizen said softly, his back to Sakumo. "Something that will grant it the peace it desperately seeks. Otherwise, when the next era arrives, I fear this village will have no answer worthy of my expectations."
Sakumo's eyes narrowed slightly.
Inside the chamber, dozens of coffins stood neatly in rows, their lids engraved with sealing scripts that pulsed faintly with light.
For a moment, Sakumo's hand trembled, though he quickly hid it behind his cloak. He already had a good idea of who might lie within those coffins—and what Aizen intended to do with them.
He looked away.
He didn't want to see. He didn't want to know.
As long as his son remained useful to Aizen—and alive—Hatake Sakumo had no desire to interfere with anything else.
That was enough.
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