As the Captain of the Hidden Mist Anbu, Fuguki moved freely through the Mizukage Building, his passage unhindered. He soon arrived before the office of the Fourth Mizukage.
A rhythmic knock, knock, knock echoed against the door.
From inside, a youthful voice answered, "Come in."
Pushing the door open, Fuguki stepped inside and quietly shut it behind him.
The office of the Mizukage was dim—curtains drawn, the air heavy and faintly oppressive. Unlike the bright, spacious chambers of other Kage, this one felt more like a cave. At the far end sat Yagura, the Fourth Mizukage, his hands clasped under his chin. Though his face still bore a boyishness that belied his age, the years had long since caught up to him.
"Mizukage-sama," Fuguki greeted, bowing low.
"Fuguki," Yagura said evenly, his tone as flat as his expression. "What brings you here personally?"
"Mizukage-sama," Fuguki began, his voice serious, "I have an important report to make."
"Speak."
"I've received intelligence that Genji-sama is preparing to send Mei Terumī, Ao, and others to move against you."
Yagura's brows lifted slightly, though his tone remained cold. "That's not amusing. What reason would Genji have to attack me? Does he seek to ignite civil strife within the Hidden Mist?"
Fuguki lowered his voice. "According to my subordinates, they suspect you are under the influence of a Genjutsu."
Yagura's expression darkened. A faint crimson gleam flickered in his eyes, and an overwhelming killing intent surged through the room like a suffocating wave.
Fuguki's heart seized for an instant, but he kept his composure. "This is complete nonsense, Mizukage-sama," he said smoothly. "Just an excuse for them to seize power."
He bowed deeper, his tone almost reverent. "You are a Jinchūriki—a Perfect Jinchūriki at that. How could you possibly fall under a Genjutsu's control?"
The Mizukage's killing intent slowly receded. Then, a thin smile curved his lips. "And what if… I truly am being controlled by a Genjutsu?"
Fuguki froze, caught between fear and calculation. After a beat, he gritted his teeth. "Then… I will still pledge my loyalty to you, Mizukage-sama. You have granted me rank, power, and wealth. For that, I remain loyal."
Yagura's grin widened, and suddenly he laughed aloud—a hollow, unsettling sound that echoed against the walls.
"Hahaha… So you're afraid they'll take your power and your wealth, aren't you? Afraid they'll take your life?"
Fuguki forced a laugh. "Mizukage-sama's insight cuts deep. Still, this humble subordinate's loyalty to you is sincere."
Loyal to me? Yagura thought. No—you're loyal to what I represent.
But that didn't bother him. Such men were easy to use.
As long as the ultimate goal could be achieved, morality was irrelevant. Ability, ambition, and fear, those were the tools that mattered.
"Their suspicions are correct," Yagura said at last. "I am indeed being controlled by a Genjutsu."
As his words fell, space itself twisted. A swirling vortex opened in the air, and from it stepped a man draped in a black cloak, an orange spiral mask concealing his face. His right eye glowed with the eerie red of the Sharingan.
Fuguki instinctively stepped back two paces, his face pale. "You... who are you?"
The masked man didn't answer immediately. He walked calmly toward the Mizukage's desk. Yagura rose mechanically, stepping aside. The masked figure took the Mizukage's chair and sat down as though it had always belonged to him.
"I am the one who holds dominion over the shadows," the man said coolly. "Uchiha Madara."
The Mangekyō Sharingan spun in his eye—three sickle-shaped blades forming a spinning triangle of crimson light.
Fuguki averted his gaze, bowing deeply. "So it's you… the one behind the Nine-Tails' rampage, the slayer of the Yellow Flash, the man who bends even a Kage to his will." He forced a laugh. "Sir, you truly live up to your legend. A Kage-slayer, indeed!"
The masked man—Obito—was quietly pleased by the flattery, though he showed only a hint of amusement.
"Enough," he said. "If you wish to follow me, you'll have to prove yourself first."
"As long as I pass, you'll have my loyalty completely," Fuguki replied earnestly. "Please give your command."
Obito leaned back in the chair. "Genji plans to 'free' the Mizukage from my Genjutsu. We'll use that plan against him, let him move first, and in doing so, weaken his own power base."
"A brilliant strategy," Fuguki said, then hesitated. "But, Sir… why not simply assassinate him outright? With your strength, that would be easy."
Obito gave a faint chuckle. "You wonder why I let him live?"
"Yes, Sir."
"With my power, I could kill Genji," Obito said. "But doing so would harm my interests more than help them."
"I don't understand," Fuguki admitted cautiously.
Obito's voice darkened. "Most of the Hidden Mist who oppose me are gathered under Genji's banner. As long as he lives, he keeps their anger focused and controlled. If I remove him, the opposition will scatter and erupt."
Understanding dawned on Fuguki's face. "I see. Without Genji to contain them, rebellion would spread like wildfire."
"Exactly. Chaos benefits no one—not yet." Obito's Sharingan flickered. "By controlling Yagura, I control the village. And through the village, I gain its resources. That will serve Akatsuki's growth—and my greater plan."
The logic was simple and ruthless. The Hidden Mist, for all its decline, was still one of the Five Great Nations. It was a resource to exploit, not destroy—at least not yet.
"Sir, your foresight is unmatched," Fuguki said with genuine awe. "How could I not have seen it before?"
Obito ignored the flattery. "Listen carefully. How many Anbu can you truly control? And I mean those who are absolutely loyal to you."
Fuguki considered for a moment. "Including myself, twenty."
"Twenty will do," Obito replied. "To avoid alerting me, Genji will limit the number of Ninja he sends—likely a small, elite team."
"That matches my estimation, Sir."
"Good. Keep them under surveillance. When the Anbu loyal to Genji take the shift guarding the Mizukage Building, you'll lead your men in first. Lie in wait."
Obito's tone sharpened. "I'll coordinate from the shadows. When they fall into the trap, you'll strike."
Fuguki bowed. "Understood. But, Sir—Ao will likely be with them. His sensory skills and Byakugan will make it difficult to hide."
"The Byakugan…" Obito mused. "That complicates things slightly."
After a pause, he said, "Very well. I'll handle Ao myself."
Fuguki's eyes brightened. "Then our success is assured."
Obito shook his head. "No. I won't act openly."
Fuguki froze. "Why not?"
"What do you think?" Obito's tone was ice. "Controlling a Perfect Jinchūriki already stretches my power. If I fight too intensely through Yagura, I'll expose my control and everything will fall apart."
Fuguki bowed again. "Understood. You wish to remain unseen."
"That's right." Obito leaned forward, his voice cold. "On the day of the operation, show no mercy. Fail me, and I'll come for you myself."
Fuguki smirked faintly. "Sir jests. The Hidden Mist Anbu never show mercy—to enemies or allies. You'll see my loyalty with your own eyes."
"Good," Obito said simply. "Go."
"Yes, Sir." Fuguki bowed and departed, closing the heavy door behind him.
Moments later, a figure of pale white matter, White Zetsu, rose from the ground like a shadow peeling away from the floor.
"Follow him," Obito ordered. "Report everything."
White Zetsu nodded silently and sank back into the earth.
A moment later, a vortex opened, and Obito vanished into Kamui's space. The vacant-eyed Yagura returned to his seat, the red gleam flickering again in his pupils.
Far from the Mizukage Building, atop a mist-shrouded rooftop, a vague silhouette flickered into existence, barely visible through the haze.
If one with a Byakugan had looked in that direction, they would have seen the air itself distorted, Chakra coiling unnaturally around an unseen figure.
"Obito's chakra signature… White Zetsu's presence too, but no sign of Black Zetsu," a low voice murmured. "How fortunate."
The figure's outline rippled, then melted into the mist. "I'll keep watching. If Black Zetsu shows himself, I'll act."
And then, nothing remained.
Three nights later, the Hidden Mist slumbered beneath a thick blanket of fog. The shift change for the Anbu loyal to Gen was scheduled for dawn.
In the eastern district, inside a darkened home, Obito appeared soundlessly in the master bedroom. His landing was so deliberate that it made the faintest sound—enough to wake a trained shinobi.
Ao's eyes snapped open. In one motion, he threw off his covers, snatched three kunai from the bedside, and hurled them straight ahead. The weapons pierced through Obito's form with three dull thuds, embedding themselves into the wall behind him.
The masked man's body rippled, unharmed.
"Who are you?" Ao demanded, muscles tensed, Byakugan flaring.
Obito slowly raised his head, and the Mangekyō Sharingan came into view.
Ao cursed inwardly—it was already too late. The world tilted, his vision distorted, and he was swallowed whole by Genjutsu.
"Transfer Seal," Obito murmured.
He stepped forward, landing lightly on the bed. His Mangekyō rotated, transmitting a pulse of power into Ao's normal eye. Then, just as silently, Obito retrieved the kunai from the wall, laid them neatly back beside the pillow, and vanished into a spiraling vortex.
Ao blinked blankly, then lay back down as if nothing had happened, pulling the covers over himself. The Genjutsu was sealed inside him, dormant—its trigger set to activate when he used his Byakugan to observe the Mizukage Building at night.
Perfect. No one would notice a thing.
The following night, under the cover of deep fog, Mei Terumī and her handpicked team began their operation. Shadows flitted between rooftops, masks concealing every feature, movements silent as drifting mist.
Avoiding the night patrols, they approached within eight hundred meters of the Mizukage Building.
All eyes turned to Ao. He nodded once, formed a quick seal, and activated his Byakugan. Veins bulged around his right eye as his vision expanded—
and the seal triggered.
Ao froze for a heartbeat, his mind wrapped in illusion.
"No problem," he said flatly, unaware of the Genjutsu distorting everything he saw.
"Good," Mei said, her tone sharp. "Move. Quickly—before the patrol loops back."
She darted forward, and eleven masked figures followed, melting into the night.
The Anbu on duty had already been rotated out. Their infiltration went smoothly, too smoothly. They slipped through the corridors of the Mizukage Building like shadows of the mist itself, stopping outside the Water Shadow's office.
A Hidden Mist ninja pulled a key from his sleeve, silently unlocked the door, and eased it open.
They entered without a sound. Mei and Ao took point at the door to the private rest chamber. One glance exchanged between them—then Mei kicked.
BANG!
The door slammed open, splintering off its hinges.
Yagura sat up abruptly from the bed. In the same instant, Ao unleashed his jutsu, streams of water whipped through the air, coiling around the Mizukage's body with precise accuracy. His limbs and neck were bound in the blink of an eye.
Mei flashed forward, her chakra-infused hand pressing against Yagura's chest.
"Yagura-sama," she said sharply, "are you under Genjutsu control?"
Yagura looked down at her hand, then up again, a vicious grin twisting his youthful face. "Rebellion, is it?"
Mei's heart sank. That expression… Something was wrong.
Ao's eyes widened as the illusion dissolved. "No—this isn't him! It's a Shadow Clone! We've been trapped! Retreat!"
Before they could move, killing intent surged through the room.
From the surrounding corridors, masked figures burst forth—Hepatitis Ghost at their head, blade drawn, his face lit with murderous intent.
"Too late," he growled. "Kill them all!"
Steel clashed and water exploded as the silent war for the Mist erupted in the heart of its own village.