Chapter 91 - INTERLUDE - Machinations​

SOMEWHERE​

His was a sanctuary illuminated by the cold, unfeeling light of numerous candles; their children, ghostly, drawn-out shadows, danced eerily on the walls. For hours, the spectral performance persisted as a backdrop to the sannin's newest accomplishment.

Orochimaru, that accursed seeker of immortality, stood before a vat filled with a viscous, luminescent fluid. Within it floated an embryonic form: The culmination of years of inhuman research, enhanced by the fey knowledge provided by his red-eyed benefactor. Here, in this forsaken place, he sought to achieve what he had once deemed impossible: the creation of a perfect, undying vessel.

A body untainted by the flaws of human mortality.

The air was thick with the acrid scent of chemicals and the faint, almost imperceptible hum of power. Arcane instruments littered the room. The sannin moved with purpose, hands deftly adjusting dials, checking readings, ensuring that every parameter was within the precise limits required for success.

The thing in the vat twitched, its movements stirring the liquid into gentle ripples. Meat bulged. Form began to take shape, its features sharpening, becoming more defined. Orochimaru watched, entranced, as flesh knitted together, as sinew and bone intertwined in a symphony of unholy creation.

This, perhaps, was his magnum opus.

His greatest work.

And so, as the perfect vessel stirred to life, Orochimaru prepared himself. Like the vile serpent he was, he shed his flesh, scales and mortality, slithering out of his old husk into the overflowing vat. Liquid splashed noisily to the earth as a life was born anew.

Then the serpent opened its maw, snuffing out the newborn flame.

***

The casino thrummed with a life of its own, a symphony of murmurs, the clinking of metal poker chips, and the soft hum of machinery. Gas lamps bathed the room in a garish glow, casting long, distorted shadows over the players who hunched over their games, most oblivious to the world outside. The air was thick with the scent of stale smoke, cheap cologne, and the intoxicating aroma of desperation.

Obito, bearing the guise of Tobi, moved through the throng with ease, his presence unnoticed by the gamblers engrossed in their quests for fortune. He was a ghost among the living, a shadow slipping between the cracks of their realities unseen. His single visible eye flicked over the crowd, searching, evaluating, calculating.

In a far corner, at a table dominated by a low-stakes poker game, sat the man he sought. Kabuto Yakushi. Dressed in his signature purple high collar and pants, over which he wore a drab, non-descript cloak, the shinobi's expression was bland and generally unassuming, his features rendered mostly forgettable.

Obito approached, the din of the casino fading into the background. He took a seat opposite Kabuto, his presence finally acknowledged by a flicker of annoyance in the man's cold eyes and a glint in his glasses.

"Yoo-hoo! Kabuto-kun!" Tobi sang with a tiny wave, a carefree flare of his arms.

"Tobi-san," Kabuto replied, his voice barely audible over the cacophony. "What a surprise," he said, sounding utterly unsurprised. "Care to join me in a game?"

Obito did not care for the game. Tobi, however, did. "Yes, please!" he nodded, playing the fool. The noise of clinking coins heralded the emptying of his wallet, eliciting a smile from the sleazy-looking dealer at the head of the table.

"...What do you want, Tobi-san?" Kabuto asked as another set of cards was dealt.

Tobi's lone eye lit up hopefully. "A dango! You have some?"

"...No," Kabuto replied blandly to which Tobi's mannerisms turned downcast. "Oh," the facade pouted, his disappointment obvious for all to see. This only served to heighten Kabuto's apparent confusion.

A flicker of curiosity crossed the spy's eyes, and for a moment, the mask of detachment slipped. "Nagato wants you dead, yet you had the guts to come seeking me out? Did you truly believe I would be too fearful of you as to not even make an attempt at taking your life, Tobi-san?"

"Eh," Tobi dismissed with a shrug. "Not really. Still, I know you wouldn't. After all, you and I are not much different."

"...I do not understand."

"I know you are still working as a spy for Orochimaru, Kabuto," Obito replied.

The spy's eyes narrowed. "...You cannot prove anything," he countered after a moment of silence, not even bothering to deny the accusation.

In response, Obito tilted his head curiously. "I can't?" he asked with a small smile.

"...What do you want?" Kabuto finally compromised.

Obito told him.

Kabuto's gaze sharpened, suspicion flickering in his eyes.

Perhaps, he had not expected that. Disappointing. Tobi had hoped he had.

That would have made this more exciting.

***

Sasuke Uchiha was quickly becoming an unbearable thorn in his side. A pawn that, with each passing day, seemed even more poised to halt Mother's return.

Zetsu watched the pest pen down words at a table, the young Uchiha's silhouette stark against the faint candlelight. Sasuke's brush moved slowly, each stroke deliberate. His face, bathed in warm light, showed deep contemplation. The scent of ink mixed with the faint aroma of wax, and killing intent slowly permeated the air.

"You can come out," Sasuke said, the monotone of his voice cutting through the stillness.

Zetsu did not respond. After all, why would he? For a thousand years, he had walked this earth, invisible to the annals of man. Anonymous. He refused to believe he would be outdone now even by one as talented as this Uchiha before him.

Yet, for some strange reason, Sasuke's gaze swivelled to look directly at him, Sharingan spinning lazily within. "Have you no manners?" the Uchiha asked. "Come out."

Hesitantly, Zetsu emerged from the earth, rising until the entirety of his torso was visible to the naked eye.

"...How?"

"Orochimaru mentioned you," Sasuke drawled, dismissing the question as he turned his attention back to the script he was writing. "Zetsu, right?"

"...Yes."

"Now… what was it that was important that you thought it wise to come snooping around my abode uninvited? Go on. Enlighten me."

The Uchiha seemed genuinely curious.

Zetsu's mind went into overdrive in search of an excuse. "I have an offer for you, Sasuke," he lied easily. Truly, he had come here to scout out the root of his most recent woes, but the volatile Uchiha need not know that. Perhaps yet, a play might be made here. His visit need not be a total failure.

"I am listening," Sasuke urged.

"...Years ago, the Akatsuki was formed to enact what Madara dubbed "The Eye of the Moon plan"," Zetsu disclosed, hoping to ensnare the pest's interest. "A vision to reshape the world," he said, "to end all conflict and suffering. You must be aware of that, given your affiliation with Orochimaru."

"I am. Continue."

"Well, I am here to offer you a chance to spearhead this initiative. The Akatsuki has two of the Tailed Beasts. You have the Shukaku. The remainder would be trivial to retrieve with our collective might. And with the Eye of the Moon Plan complete, destroying Konoha would be a foregone conclusion, this I can assure you."

Sasuke's lips twitched into a semblance of a smile, more mocking than amused. "And you think I need your help for that?"

Zetsu's eyes narrowed. "I am offering you the power to rewrite the fate of the world. With it, you can be well assured that those you care about would never be in danger again."

Slowly, Sasuke turned fully to face Zetsu, his gaze evaluating. A small smile continued to play on his lips. "Truly," he asked instead, "what are you?"

"...What do you mean?"

"You aren't human, that much is obvious," Sasuke replied. "Then what are you? I am curious."

"...I offer you the means to remake the world yet this is what garners your interest?"

Sasuke chuckled lightly. "The Eye of the Moon?" he intoned. "Is that supposed to impress me? I don't need help remaking this world. Still, do not despair, strange thing. There are other ways you might be of use to me."

"Wha—"

*BANG*

Zetsu looked down to see a meter-long bone rod impaling his torso where his heart would have been had he possessed one. Gaze travelling up the length of the projectile, and up the dainty hand wrapped around the end, Zetsu's eyes met Sasuke's. The Uchiha was crouched in front of him, head tilted as he examined the Zetsu's chest for a puncture wound or the lack thereof.

虎.

Tora.

"Jukai Shinshoku!"

A throng of deadly, waist-thick roots burst from beneath the floorboards to impale the Uchiha as Zetsu turned to flee. Alas, the bone spike impaled in his left half refused to budge for some odd reason. Black Zetsu glanced down again at his restrained half to see a thicket of bone spikes emerging from white flesh. Like hooks, the protrusions clung stubbornly to meat, refusing to let go.

Without hesitating, Black Zetsu divested from his other half, taking to the earth like fish in water. Claw-like fingers plunged into the soil behind him, wrapping around his neck in a vice grip.

"NO!"

A single thought had Black Zetsu's form softening to a mud-like consistency that allowed him to escape the Uchiha's grasp. Without waiting to witness his fellow Zetsu's fate, Black fled, abandoning his other half as he vanished deeper into bedrock.

On the surface, Sasuke stared at the spot where his quarry fled. In his right hand was a bone spear on which his consolation prize squirmed ineffectually. His gaze panned to regard the creature before his shoulders shifted in a small, dismissive shrug.

"Can't win them all, I guess."