"Monster… that monster…"
"Madara never told me there was a thing like that in this world!"
Obito sprinted in a cold sweat, terrified that if he slowed a step he'd be seized and interrogated by the blond monster behind him.
"Zetsu! You bastard! Didn't you say there's no monster on par with Madara left in this world!?" Obito snapped at the pitcher-plant-crowned Zetsu beside him.
Zetsu sighed helplessly. "I don't know where he came from either. He's like a fog—and his subordinates are a fog too…"
By nature, he could command White Zetsu and eavesdrop across every hidden village. Alone, he matched the intelligence networks of all Five Great Villages combined, able to probe the great and small of the shinobi world.
But Menma—and that cadre under him—completely eluded his sight.
"I've lived since Mother's era and witnessed the shinobi world's whole pageant. How have I never seen creatures like those…"
Zetsu brooded, vexed.
Giants, fish-men… If not for the fact they were still in the shinobi world, he'd have thought he'd crossed into another world entirely.
While he was mulling, Zetsu failed to notice the glint of ice in Obito's eye.
Menma's words earlier—Obito had pretended not to care, but every one was etched into his mind, especially the Tsuki no Me Keikaku (Eye of the Moon Plan).
If Menma was right, then the Eye of the Moon Plan… was Zetsu's lie to him and to Madara…
Crushing the thought down, Obito thrust his hand to his face and dug out his blinded three-tomoe eye.
"Zetsu. Give me a Sharingan."
His voice was flat.
Izanagi was a forbidden ocular art of the clan: for a set duration, it turned any misfortune to "never happened," selecting only outcomes favorable to the user as reality.
While it was active, even death could be undone—an invincibility so terrifying it bent reality itself.
But the price was steep: each use consumed one three-tomoe Sharingan.
If not for collecting many such eyes on the night the clan was wiped out, he wouldn't squander them so readily.
Zetsu tossed him a three-tomoe Sharingan, brined in saline.
Obito plucked it up and, like slotting a block, pressed it into his socket. A few blinks—and it functioned like a normal eye.
"No rejection?" Zetsu asked.
"I'm of the clan. Why would it reject me?" Obito's tone stayed cool.
He bore the clan's blood—and Hashirama cells. Swapping three-tomoe eyes at will was child's play.
"Good…"
Zetsu exhaled. With Akatsuki smashed, if Obito fell too, the Eye of the Moon Plan might as well be pronounced dead.
Suddenly Obito's face changed. A silhouette appeared at his side.
"Menma!?"
"Yo."
Menma flashed a grin—and drove a fist straight through Obito's heart. Flames roared up his forearm, and Obito's body went up like tinder.
"Aaaaaahhh!"
Obito screamed, a sound that could tear stone. Worse was not knowing how Menma had gotten close in the first place.
Just as he was about to be burned to ash, Obito's body blurred into mist—and reappeared dozens of meters away.
"Izanagi again. You're even more practiced than Danzō," Menma narrowed his eyes, striking at Obito as he spoke.
Unlike Danzō, this body was wreathed in a faint haze.
"So this is the invulnerability window of Izanagi, huh?"
Menma didn't chase. His gaze ticked to Zetsu. "Zetsu—no, I should call you the third son of Kaguya, shouldn't I? Do you have a name?"
Zetsu's mouth twitched. His voice turned strange.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
In truth, shock had numbed him to the core. He couldn't even think of a lie.
This monster seemed to know everything.
"Whatever. Say it or not, it's the same…"
Menma shook his head. His right arm turned jet-black with Busōshoku Haki (Armament Haki), and he blitzed up to Zetsu.
"Let's see if I can kill you."
His arm, hard as black steel, snapped out the index finger—stabbing forward in a storm like a thousand-petal rain. Only after-images could be seen, flickering and lancing.
Szzzz—szzzz—szzzz—
Zetsu howled. In an instant, his body was riddled with holes.
He abandoned most of his mass on the spot; only his lower body melted into the earth and vanished.
Menma hammered a Katon (Fire Release) fist down, blasting a vast crater in the ground.
Flames wreathed in Busōshoku Haki (Armament Haki) roared, burning what remained of Zetsu into ash—then even the ash ran like slag.
"Dead? …Probably not."
Menma stared at the blazing pit. That punch should have incinerated Zetsu completely… yet some instinct said the thing still lived.
After all, this was the hand behind every plot—the "third son" of Kaguya who would later backstab and kill Madara. It shouldn't be that easy.
But he still didn't know Zetsu's full ability set.
Menma turned back to Obito. "Got a third three-tomoe Sharingan left, Obito?"
A bad chill shot through Obito.
Zetsu had been driven off—where was he supposed to find a third three-tomoe now? He could only burn his Mangekyō Sharingan if he had to.
But if he sacrificed that eye, he'd be a cripple.
He hesitated—then made up his mind. He pulled out a Rinnegan, formed a seal, and fired it away like a shot.
"Menma! You wanted the Rinnegan, right?"
Obito's face twisted. "Go on—chase it. Once it hits the ground, it'll shatter to pieces!"
With that, he threw himself into a dead sprint the other way.
He was gambling—gambling that in Menma's eyes, the Rinnegan was worth more than Obito himself. Only then might he live.
Menma watched the Rinnegan arc through the air, thought for a heartbeat, then stamped off in pursuit.
Obito let out a breath like a man spared at the gallows. He licked his lips and drew a second Rinnegan from his pocket.
"No helping it…"
(End of Chapter)
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