"Weren't we told all participants in this plan are masters?" The 'spirited youth' Jigen scanned the room, his words perfectly matching his demeanor. "Seems obvious a few here are just filler."
It wasn't a loud taunt, nor a whisper. He just said it. Naturally, it drew sharp looks.
For all his cocky, flippant exterior, Jigen's internal mood was dead serious. For one reason: the massive, desiccated corpse of the Gedo Statue sat cross-legged in the center of their gathering place.
This was proof. These people aiming to shake the world weren't just talking. Seeing the Statue made him… happy. It was like seeing his own lower half again.
But he didn't stare. No need for unnecessary suspicion. He wanted to see this play unfold, not smash the stage on his first entrance.
Instead, as he spoke, his gaze settled on the masked man, as if sensing something off.
Hidden within the masked man, Black Zetsu saw no issue with Jigen. Simple reason: in its thousand-year plan, the factor of Isshiki Ōtsutsuki had never been considered. It didn't know he existed.
Isshiki excelled at patience and concealment. And Black Zetsu… well, intellect was never its strong suit.
If not for the Leader's presence, Jigen's words might have started a brawl. Thankfully, the Rinnegan carried enough weight to keep order.
More importantly, Nagato knew Jigen was right. There were fillers here. Some probably wouldn't live to see the plan's execution.
Yūshin wasn't about to indulge him. Voice low, pitched only for Jigen's ears, he said, "A few? From your perspective, isn't everyone here filler? Even the Leader up there."
Jigen's head snapped towards him. Did this old fossil see something?
No time to dwell. The meeting was starting. Despite its heavy team-building vibe and the Leader's speech being all vision and zero substance, everyone played along. For now.
To most here, the organization was shrouded in mystery. Except for anomalies like Yūshin, Jigen, and the masked man.
After the Leader finished his grand outlook, Yūshin spoke up.
"When the tailed beast captures truly begin, I can offer support." His voice cut through the hollow pomp. "I can use the First Hokage's Wood Release. That Kekkei Genkai is… particularly effective against tailed beasts."
That got immediate attention. Orochimaru's gaze sharpened. Itachi's eyes flicked over.
But most here had pride woven into their bones. Accepting help meant admitting inferiority.
Come on. We're all professionals. Who's weaker than who?
"Unnecessary," came the reply. "We have our own methods for dealing with tailed beasts."
To most in Akatsuki, Yūshin's offer wasn't kindness. It was a polished version of Jigen's insult. The subtext was clear. Even someone with an intelligence score of two could get it.
The meeting finally moved to assignments. The organization shifted from total dormancy to an intelligence-gathering phase.
Before capturing tailed beasts, they needed to know who the Jinchūriki were. The identities were, theoretically, classified secrets in each village.
Cough. Theoretically. In practice… well, in practice, everyone usually knew.
So, gathering the intel was tricky, but not impossible.
To Nagato, the crucial phase was the strike after getting all intel and amassing enough power. The captures had to be fast. Blitz them all before the great villages could react.
Seal the beasts, and you've assembled the cannon.
With his current understanding, Nagato wasn't thinking about becoming a Ten-Tails Jinchūriki or attaining the Six Paths. His plan was simpler: stuff the beasts into the Gedo Statue, then wield that power-laden puppet to terrorize the world into peace.
Honestly, for all its extremity, his 'peace through fear' plan was still within the realm of human conception. Ambitious, but human.
The masked man's plan? Madara's plan? That edged into… other territory.
And Black Zetsu's plan? Well. It just wanted to save its mom and maybe end the world. What bad intentions could it possibly have?
The Deva Path began handing out tasks. The new Konoha duo naturally got 'Confirm the Nine-Tails Jinchūriki's identity.'
"As for the Three-Tails…" The Deva Path hesitated. "Its Jinchūriki vanished years ago on the battlefield between Kirigakure and Konoha. Rumors say the host died, meaning the beast died too. But it hasn't resurrected all these years… Whether it's in Konoha or Kiri, its location is unclear."
Every other tailed beast had a clear home. The Three-Tails was the exception. It was… misplaced.
"I'll handle the Three-Tails intel," Yūshin volunteered again, ever proactive.
"Good." The Deva Path agreed easily.
Nagato didn't know about the Three-Tails host. That didn't mean the masked man, 'Tobi,' didn't. In theory, he was the one who knew exactly where it was. Yet he remained silent.
Yūshin's gaze swept past the masked man. He noticed it then—a slight, uncontrollable tremor in the man's frame.
Soon, almost everyone noticed the gloomy masked man's odd state. He said nothing. Then, like he'd been electrocuted, he stiffened and pitched forward, face-first onto the ground.
His limbs thrashed. A fish out of water.
What the hell?
"An… epileptic fit?"
The grand, unifying, triumphant meeting seemed to crash and burn in its final moments. The imposing aura built by the Rinnegan crumbled. A core member had… epilepsy? Who could you even complain to?
Right. The Three-Tails intel had jabbed at Obito Uchiha's submerged consciousness. A civil war was raging in his skull.
Obito's consciousness fought for control. But struggle as he might, it was nearly impossible. Even if both sides had an intelligence score of two, Black Zetsu had a thousand years of experience on its side.
After a minute or two, the masked man stilled. He adjusted his mask. Stood up.
"Ahem. Do you believe in prophecies?" His voice was strained. "I just received some mysterious omens from the great beyond…"
A desperate attempt to save face. But then…
"Hey, uh… did you just wet yourself? Do prophecies cause incontinence?"
"..."
While one shouldn't avoid doctors out of shame, the meeting couldn't continue. It was becoming a biohazard.
The Deva Path finished assigning tasks and immediately declared the meeting adjourned. Go home. Find your mom. Find a bathroom.
......
At this stage, Orochimaru's raw power probably ranked third in Akatsuki. Setting aside Jigen and Yūshin, the Six Paths of Pain theoretically couldn't handle him.
The problem was, Orochimaru sat atop a golden vault but had lost the key. His hardware was top-tier, but his operating system had been factory reset.
Thanks to Yūshin's merciless sealing, Orochimaru possessed the combined power of Hashirama Senju and Madara Uchiha. He'd just forgotten about it.
So, despite being strong, his current actions were… kinda lame. He was still that Sharingan fanboy, stuck in his 'obsessed with red eyes' phase.
After the meeting, the Konoha duo—Itachi Uchiha and Orochimaru—left one after the other.
Orochimaru trailed behind, planning an ambush. Itachi walked ahead, unafraid of one.
Pathetic. Truly pathetic. With his current strength, Orochimaru's schemes should be grander. He should be aiming for Nagato's Rinnegan. Instead, he was back to snatching Mangekyō Sharingan.
"That Yūshin," Itachi spoke without turning, "seems to be a senior from Konoha. Should we greet him?"
Itachi Uchiha consulting Orochimaru on social etiquette. The world truly was full of wonders.
But even as he spoke, Itachi's mind was on the masked man. That 'help' had led to Shisui's death. He'd seen the man's methods. His intuition screamed that major secrets lurked beneath that mask.
As for Yūshin? Honestly, Itachi didn't care much. Or rather, he didn't consider him a significant factor.
Orochimaru fiddled with a snake in his sleeve, his tone deceptively thoughtful. "Best not. Everyone here has their reasons. Our pasts are better left buried. Bringing them up… only invites hostility."
This showed two things. First, Orochimaru might not grasp etiquette, but he understood the human heart. Second, the name Yūshin sparked zero recognition in him. The memory removal had been thorough.
"Treating each other as strangers is the best approach…"
The moment the words left his lips, snakes erupted from his sleeves. Thick as arms, they shot toward Itachi, coiling around him in an instant. Tight.
"I recall… internal conflict among members is strictly forbidden."
Even ambushed, Itachi's voice remained calm. The situation was under control. Probably.
"The organization?" Orochimaru's voice was righteous, despite the lowly act. "I considered lying low for a while. But seeing you… I can't let this heaven-sent opportunity slip away."
Itachi gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Then…
Hm?
He tried something. It failed.
The coils constricted violently. No point saving chakra now. The three tomoe in his eyes swirled, morphing into the unique pattern of the Mangekyō Sharingan.
Orochimaru was finally under his genjutsu.
It worked. For a split second.
Then the genjutsu bounced off. 'Bounced' was the right word—especially when two similar forces clashed, and the stronger overwhelmed the weaker.
Itachi's surprise snapped into outright shock as he looked at Orochimaru.
Orochimaru's eye sockets now held Mangekyō Sharingan too.
Right. He couldn't activate the 'active skills.' But don't poke the bear too hard. Under extreme stimulus, abilities even he didn't know he had surfaced on reflex.
Both had Mangekyō. Neither was the Eternal version. Yet, Orochimaru's ocular power crushed Itachi's.
Simple reasons. One: his Mangekyō stemmed from research on Madara Uchiha's cells and chakra. Two: his body was already supercharged by Hashirama's cells, amplifying his ocular power.
Orochimaru's current actions were absurd. He was robbing a local bank's teller while carrying the keys to the central vault on his back.
"Where did you get that Mangekyō Sharingan, Orochimaru?" Itachi asked, looking down at the man from his trapped position.
Somehow, even from that height, he seemed to be the one being looked down upon.
When Itachi used his Mangekyō, his eyes bled. His breath hitched. His spirit felt drained. Stabbing pains shot through him.
Orochimaru? He wielded the Mangekyō with the smooth, effortless flow of… well, something decidedly less pleasant.
"Huh? Who? Me? What eyes?"
Orochimaru's hand rose, fingers brushing his eyelids. A sudden, intense urge to pluck them out and have a good look seized him. Wait. If I pluck them out, what would I use to look at them?
He fumbled in his pouch and pulled out a kunai. Used the dark blade as a mirror.
And saw them. The crimson eyes with their unique pattern in his own sockets.
No sense of foreignness. They felt like they'd always been there.
"What… is happening?" he muttered. "Am I under a genjutsu?"
His brain buzzed. Questions piled up. Forget how he got these eyes. If he had them… why was he trying to mug Itachi Uchiha?
Did I… maybe… screw this up?
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