Bounty Hunter Outpost 47
As Obito emerged with a swirling vortex, he found himself standing on a cold, unyielding stone platform, granting him an elevated view of the vast land below.
He remained still, his gaze distant, though his thoughts were anything but.
Sasuke Uchiha.
What an extraordinary child.
Yet Obito hadn't always seen him that way. No. When he had first evaluated the boy, there was little that stood out. Another name among a long list of self-proclaimed prodigies bred from the Uchiha's stagnant pride. A student of the Academy, noted for his stoicism and textbook skills. At twelve, his signature technique was the Great Fireball Jutsu, a rite of passage more than a feat. Obito scoffed inwardly at the thought. He, the discarded one, the so-called failure of the Uchiha clan, had mastered that same technique with far less guidance and far fewer resources.
The boy had other talents, yes. A natural aptitude for shurikenjutsu. Solid form in taijutsu. Quick reflexes. But none of these marked him as exceptional. None of them explained Black Zetsu's words.
The will of Madara had seemingly observed something... greater, something Obito could not see.
He remembered the conversation.
It had taken place years ago before the Uchiha clan had been reduced to ash. Back when Itachi had only just begun to tread the line between loyal shinobi and sacrificial lamb. Back when Obito, still masquerading behind masks and fragments of Madara's will, had only just begun aligning pieces of his grand design.
It was then that he gave Zetsu an order: scout the Uchiha. Search for any children, any host, who could possibly synchronize with the Gedo Mazo.
Even in those early days, Obito had known a truth he didn't like to admit.
He was not Madara.
The Rinnegan Nagato wielded was not his by birthright, and no matter if, no—when he took that gift away, and implanted it into his own eye-socket and channeled its power, it would never feel truly his. Black Zetsu had never hesitated to remind him of his inferior chakra potency and strength. Neither had Madara, in the brief and cryptic conversations they shared.
"You will never be the one to complete the plan," Madara had once said. "When the time shall come, you will repay your debt to me."
And though Obito had raged at the old man's arrogance, screamed internally at the limitations placed upon him, both by birth and Madara himself, he knew, on some deep level, that there was truth in those words. Madara had even placed a cursed seal upon his heart, a chain to drag behind him, a bitter reminder of control.
Still... Obito had always planned to break those chains. To take the plan and make it his own. But even the most rebellious minds needed insurance.
That insurance had a name.
"You came," Obito said flatly, not turning around.
"I always do," Black Zetsu murmured, his voice like oil sliding across stone. "I bring... developments, from the Uchiha clan."
Obito finally turned, eye narrowing. "Go on."
"There is a child," Zetsu began, pausing as though savoring the weight of the words. "The younger son of Fugaku Uchiha. His name is Sasuke."
Obito said nothing.
"I've observed him for some time now, at a distance, quietly. Unusually, his chakra is different, dense - more than any child his age has any right to be. His reserves are... promising. Not remarkable yet, but there's a quality to them. Refined. Pure."
"Another 'prodigy'?" Obito muttered, unimpressed. "The Uchiha are full of them."
Zetsu's yellow eye gleamed. "Perhaps. But this one… he resonates."
Obito's head tilted slightly. "With what?"
"That, I cannot say. Not yet," Zetsu replied, apparently choosing his words carefully. "But there is something ancient in him. Dormant. Sleeping. His chakra… it echoes, something I can feel with my extraordinary sensory capabilities. It reminds me of the chakra of my creator - Lord Madara."
Obito's silence deepened, his eye unreadable.
"I'm not making predictions," Zetsu added, "but if molded properly, he may one day serve a greater purpose than even Itachi. He is young, yes, as all great shinobi were once, but I advise you to keep him in your orbit."
Obito exhaled slowly. "He's just a child."
"For now," Zetsu agreed, shifting back into the shadows. "But so was Nagato once. So were you."
Obito crossed his arms, his cloak fluttering in the wind, the silence of the high trees wrapped around him once more—but now, it felt charged. Zetsu's latest informative report had confirmed his earlier conversation.
So, the child had leapt forward.
He had prepared him for many things. Recklessness, vengeance, maybe even bold declarations, but not this. Not a threat that sent ripples of unease through the Akatsuki's upper echelon. Sasuke had forced their hand, cornered them with precision that belied his years. He had boldly defied the Nagato, a man so powerful that he could hold an entire nation and multiple S-ranked nuke nin without breaking a sweat.
It was elegant, in a way.
And yet, it was also problematic.
Sasuke was accelerating faster than even Obito had accounted for. That much was now clear. The very idea that he had manipulated Kakuzu, disposed of Hidan, and confronted the Akatsuki all within such a narrow time frame made one thing unavoidable. Obito no longer controlled the board. Not entirely. He hadn't gotten the chance to groom Sasuke into a tool, yet the tool had taken shape into a weapon, one that might even carve paths of its own if left unchecked.
Still, it wasn't all bad.
This boldness… this ruthlessness… it was pure and undiluted. The chakra Black Zetsu had felt all those years ago was now manifesting, not just in power, but in will. Obito could use that. If anything, Sasuke's defiance had cut through the delays. The child had turned into a contender, and contenders could be harnessed or broken.
The loss of Hidan and Kakuzu, while troublesome for the organization's operational strength, was irrelevant to Obito's personal endgame. In fact, the chaos served him well. Fragmentation meant vulnerability, and vulnerability meant opportunity. Pain might rage and posture, but if he wished to complete the sealing of the tailed beasts, he would need the leverage Obito held. And Sasuke… Sasuke was the perfect leverage of all.
Finally, the Gedo Mazo still waits… dormant. The boy... he'll fit into it perfectly.
The path had certainly remained similar, however. Subtle coaxing would work, just a little earlier than he had expected. It would take deception layered in truth. A lie so rooted in personal pain, it would convince Sasuke Uchiha to channel his fury for a new purpose.
And for that… Itachi's death would be the key.
A shame, Obito mused. He had grown fond of the boy's obedience. Zetsu had never reported any information leak from Itachi's side, and it seemed like Konoha was almost completely in the dark about the Akatsuki's movements, unless it was announced explicitly. It was kind of ironic in a way, with just how many acts of treason the elder Uchiha was willing to commit, despite his 'loyalty' to the Hidden Leaf village.
"Now, if only he were here..." Obito spoke out loud, his voice carrying a hint of annoyance.
"Still speaking to yourself, I see. You really have to stop that habit of yours."
"Zetsu," he commented, turning to face the humanoid creature. "You have arrived earlier than anticipated."
"Are you making fun of me?"
"Us."
"Same thing. It's not like we are slow just because we lack your fancy eye ability."
Obito ignored his partner, choosing to address the more pressing matter at hand. "He's not here."
"Huh? Wait... you're right – I can't sense him anywhere."
"Maybe he has a different plan in mind – something not so straightforward. Perhaps an ambush of some sort?"
Obito rubbed his chin in contemplation. Black Zetsu's suggestion was not out of the realm of possibilities. However, that also brought out another problem, an obstacle in his recruitment agenda. If neither he nor Zetsu could sense his prized pawn, then it was also likely that Sasuke could slip through his fingers at a crucial moment, which was not the ideal outcome.
"That is... plausible. Spread out, and search for it."
"Of course."
He took a step forward, temporarily turning off his intangibility to place his hand on a stone pillar jutting from the broken ground. His thoughts were tangled in possibilities. An ambush? A seal trap? Or perhaps Sasuke was testing Itachi, baiting a reaction?
That's when he felt it.
"ARGHHHHH!"
Pain.
Pure, white-hot pain was all he felt as he saw a black rod pierce his abdominal region.
Then he froze. Not from shock, but from complete neural override.
Realization struck. Chakra disruption.
And it had happened in less than a second. There had been no warning. No surge. No fanfare.
Just perfect timing.
"Uchiha Obito."
The voice echoed behind him, smooth and cold, devoid of haste. He tried to turn, but his body no longer obeyed.
Izanagi!
Kamui!
Izanagi! Kamui! IZANAGI! KAMUI!
None of his most powerful techniques responded. He tried to overwhelm the invading chakra in his body, tried to deflect, tried to overpower it. Nothing worked! He was too weak to even make a sliver of progress in his hopeless endeavor.
Black Zetsu's voice was screeching now.
"No! let me go! Let me go! LET ME G—!"
Black Zetsu, begging? He had never heard Madara's will sound so desperate, so eager, so hopeless in the decades he had worked with the loathsome creature.
"Planetary Devastation!"
Rinnegan.
That technique was only possible with the power of the Rinnegan. This was confirmation of the black rod's power source.
Sasuke Uchiha had the Rinnegan was the horrifying conclusion his mind reached.
Dread.
An enormous amount of dread coalesced, a creeping weight that settled into every corner of his mind, whispering of everything he had failed to account for.
How had he missed something so significant as another Rinnegan wielder?
How had Zetsu, the damn useless parasite, miss this?
"NoNoNoNONONONONONONONONO!" he heard Madara's 'will' scream. "Mother! You hear me! I will not allow it! I will - mmphhh!"
—missed Sasuke obtaining the Rinnegan?!
A deep rumble echoed in the ground as the terrain shivered and trembled, responding to its summoner.
At once, the Earth fractured.
The very crust beneath them splintered open as chunks of the ground lifted skyward, drawn toward the forming singularity above. An invisible but inescapable gravitational force bloomed into existence, a black point in the sky devouring everything it touched.
Boulders the size of wagons cracked from the earth and spiraled upward. Trees were torn from their roots with a sound like bones breaking, their trunks twisting midair as leaves disintegrated in the crushing pressure. Shards of shattered terrain followed as entire slabs of stone, dust, and debris were ripped from the ground like they weighed nothing.
It doesn't make any SENSE! Obito raged internally.
This was more than a miscalculation. It was a failure of cosmic proportions.
Any further deliberation or thoughts were interrupted by... movement.
His legs shifted.
His shoulders turned.
His spine straightened.
Obito's eye trembled as he was forcefully turned around. His own limbs betrayed him, moving like a puppet strung on invisible threads. His gaze was dragged upward.
There he was, the man of the hour.
Sasuke stood, cloaked in the awe-inducing glow of a colossal purple Susano'o, its armor shimmering with murderous intent. And within his left socket—no longer a Sharingan, but a Rinnegan, glowing with godlike gravity.
His thoughts stuttered. It was doing that a lot today.
The Susano'o reached forward, its colossal ethereal hand shimmering with violet chakra, enclosing around Obito's suspended body like the fingers of a god gripping a condemned soul. The gravitational pressure from the imploding core in the sky threatened to pull him into oblivion, but the spectral warrior held him in place.
He barely registered the gesture.
He has the Susano'o too?! And that right eye!
That power... it wasn't attainable without the sacrifice of another! Not without the eye of a close relative! It required Itachi.
Itachi.
It required Itachi's help.
The phrase repeated in his mind like a mantra, each iteration stabbing deeper than the last.
Itachi helped him.
Of course.
The words bloomed into a realization that struck like a lance through his chest. The facade Sasuke had presented to the Akatsuki—the bravado, the threats, the arrogance—it had all been a carefully constructed illusion. A mask designed to obscure a deeper, far more dangerous truth.
Itachi and Sasuke had worked together. They had schemed together in order to play him. He, Obito Uchiha, had been watching the mask while the blade had already been at his throat.
Another miscalculation of immense proportions, another reminder of where he had failed.
A bitter laugh welled up in Obito's throat, but could not escape. His body remained frozen, held captive by an invading chakra that flooded every cell, silencing his will, stifling even his rage.
I was the manipulator. The puppetmaster. I held the strings of this world.
Not true, apparently. Far, far from the truth.
Here he was, with the strings snapped and his power stolen. Played like a fool by the very ones he believed he had orchestrated from the beginning.
The irony was cruel. The architect of pain, the puppeteer... outmaneuvered by the very tools he had forged in blood and hatred.
Black Zetsu was still screaming somewhere inside the rocks, reduced to raw, primal panic. It thrashed within the floating rock like a trapped animal, shrieking about Kaguya, about fate, about vengeance.
But Obito barely registered it anymore.
Instead, unbidden, his thoughts turned to the past. Not the grand battles or the twisted ideologies, but to them. His old teammates, bonds he had severed in pursuit of an impossible dream—more of a nightmare in hindsight. The three faces that haunted him the most. A girl too gentle for the world she tried to protect. A friend too bright for the darkness they'd lived through. And a man who had once called him "my precious student," eyes full of hope for a future that never came.
He had failed them all.
Failed to save them.
Failed to honor them.
And worst of all... failed to make the world better.
He could feel the truth, he knew precisely what would happen next. An interrogation was inevitable, perhaps followed by death, maybe worse. The chakra that filled his veins wasn't just invasive—it was overwhelming, dominant, and ancient. There was no room for resistance. No outlet for Kamui. No loophole for Izanagi. His chakra was suffocated beneath the oppressive pressure of Sasuke's power.
Was that what this had all been for? To be undone by two children bound by blood and pain? To have everything he'd sacrificed, every lie, every betrayal, every corpse, amount to nothing more than a stepping stone for someone else's dream?
In the end, nothing had changed. Nothing. The world would be in an endless state of misery, an endless loop of loss, until no one had anything left, and it seemed that it would stay that way with his demise. All his hopes, his dreams, and his sacrifices were reduced to worthlessness. He was still that same naive failure of a child whose dreams were far bigger and brighter than his future.
What a waste. What a failure he was.
_____________________________________________________________________
Sasuke stood in the crater's center, the remnants of destruction spiraling slowly in the air around him.
Activating the Deva Path's gravity manipulation, he pulled the massive floating rock toward him and Obito. With his controlling power, he forced the masked man to move, guiding him until he stood mere inches away from the gargantuan construct. Sasuke infused additional chakra into Obito, compelling him to perform the Kamui on the floating rock, aiding in its transfer.
Within seconds the massive object vanished into the Kamui dimension, sucked away into a spiraling vortex.
He exhaled slowly. Once. Twice.
It's done.
The threat of Obito and Black Zetsu had been neutralized. His mission had been executed flawlessly.
Sasuke unsheathed his sword.
He did not hesitate.
In a fraction of a second, he closed the distance between himself and Obito, his blade already unsheathed in one seamless, fluid motion. With a single arc of his sword, he severed Obito's head cleanly, the body sagging for a moment before the black flames of Amaterasu ignited it in the next breath. Kagutsuchi sculpted the flames further, molding the black fire with surgical precision to ensure nothing could remain. Complete and utter eradication of the pretender's existence.
He should've felt triumphant.
And yet...
He looked down at the scorched ground where Obito's corpse had been moments ago. The flames of Amaterasu still danced there, slow and eternal, devouring even the ashes.
... I don't feel it enough.
Sasuke exhaled, steady but unsatisfied.
He had killed them. And yes, he enjoyed it.
Sasuke took great pleasure in watching Obito's paralysis, in feeling Zetsu scream. The way their panic cracked their carefully constructed disguises. That moment, when he realized they were finally afraid of him, it sent a thrill up his spine, electrifying and primal. After years of being a pawn, of watching from the shadows, of suffering beneath the weight of history, Sasuke had taken control. The vengeance had intoxicated him, just as he had expected. It lit something inside his chest that had long grown cold. For a moment, just a moment, it had felt right.
But it hadn't lasted.
For some reason, Sasuke anticipated more. More resistance. More meaning. More justice.
Instead, there was just... ash, a scorch mark, and a crater.
He found himself staring down at the ground.
Is that it? he thought. After everything? He supposed it was incredibly moronic to expect a fight when he was so much stronger than any being alive.
Obito had looked so human in the end. So... pitiful. Not a god. Not Madara. Not even a monster. Just a man, flawed, broken, and clinging to ideals far too large for a single person to carry. There had been no grandeur in his final moments, no righteous fury, no godlike resistance. Only fear and desperation. The quiet, almost tragic stillness of someone who had finally run out of paths. All that power, all that manipulation, and in the end, he died like anyone else, with wide eyes and an empty heart. A man who had gambled everything on a fantasy of peace built on bones and blood.
Sasuke hated how familiar that sounded.
He shut his eyes, shaking off the thought. There was no room for sympathy—not now. He had another mission to complete.
With two of the most slippery members of the Akatsuki dead, the likelihood of Kaguya's resurrection was next to nothing. But there was still a chance, a possibility of the other Rinnegan wielder causing the formation of the Ten-Tails, which was not under his jurisdiction. That was something he had to eliminate before it got out of hand.
He sheathed his blade with a smooth motion, the sound of metal sliding into its scabbard echoing across the hollow battlefield.
With those thoughts in mind, Sasuke decided to continue his journey toward the Hidden Rain, hopefully this time without interruptions.
As for Itachi…
Sasuke knew just how to deal with him.
_____________________________________________________________________
Hidden Grass - South-West Border with the Hidden Rain
Itachi came to a sudden stop, halting Kisame in his tracks too.
"Kisame, my summon has reached the outpost."
"Oh? So fast?" Samehada's wielder was shocked. He and Itachi had moved at top speeds to reach the intended location, but it was still quite surprising for a crow to cover such distances quicker than two of the fastest ninjas alive.
Itachi extended his arm towards him, beckoning him to place his hand on the appendage. "Just like I mentioned earlier, I will link my chakra to yours and we shall teleport directly to the outpost."
"As always, Itachi-san, your quick thinking never ceases to impress me," Kisame grinned and placed his flat palm slightly above his partner's wrist.
And the scenery suddenly changed.
Where previously there was an overwhelming presence of trees, rocks, and shrubbery, it was swiftly replaced by a dark wooden room. Dim rays of sunlight filtered through small cracks in the walls, casting subtle patterns on the floor below. The interior was vast, with high ceilings and rows of wooden support beams stretching into the distance. The air was cool and slightly musty, hinting at the passage of many years since the building's construction. If Kisame were not taking part in a highly important mission, he would've taken his time to explore and admire the place.
He turned to face his partner.
"Itachi-san, this is not—"
Gone.
Uchiha Itachi was gone.
As such, Kisame found himself and Samehada alone in a barely lighted wooden warehouse, far, far away from the location assigned by the leader. It was at that moment did the painful and bitter realization settled in—his partner, Uchiha Itachi, the man whom he respected and admired for his wisdom, composure, and intellect without a shadow of a doubt... betrayed him.
Kisame snickered.
Why had he never forcefully pried for information? How had he never bothered to look underneath the closed-off mask Itachi portrayed? Had he been so utterly blind, deaf, and dumb to the blatant suspicious behavior? What kind of ninja was he?
Kisame's snicker trailed off into silence.
Memories surfaced, unbidden and sharper than any blade. Fleeting glances during missions. Long silences that spoke more than words ever could. The way Itachi's gaze softened, barely, but unmistakably, whenever the name Sasuke was uttered. The pause before executing an order. The distant look in his eyes when he thought no one was watching.
And Kisame, fool that he was, had ignored them all.
He had dismissed the signs and brushed aside the cracks, chalking it up to illness, fatigue, the burden of genius. Anything but betrayal.
He laughed again, shorter, sharper. Not out of amusement, but disbelief.
And then the laughter stopped.
Because it wasn't funny anymore.
It hurt.
More than he thought it could.
He had killed comrades. Slaughtered clansmen. Burned villages without a blink. And yet this... this clean, silent betrayal cut deeper than any of it. This wasn't treason in the battlefield sense. This was personal.
Itachi had chosen to leave him behind.
The silence of the warehouse was oppressive. It felt colder now. Emptier.
Kisame stood still, the weight of it pressing down on him like Samehada at full size. For a moment, he didn't know how to feel. Anger? Shame? Mourning?
He looked down at his hand.
The one that had touched Itachi's wrist just moments ago, trusting.
Foolish.
Then a sharp prick on his thigh.
Samehada.
The blade had nipped at him, sensing his chakra spike, sensing his emotion. It growled lowly, unintelligible but oddly... concerned.
Kisame exhaled.
"Yeah," he muttered. "I know."
He took a long breath and ran a hand through his hair.
"He got me good, didn't he?"
There was no rage in his voice. Just something quiet. Something sad.
"Heh… guess I deserved it. For never asking what really went on behind those eyes."
Patting Samehada a few times, the Monster of the Hidden Mist molded some chakra to summon the Akatsuki to inform them of the latest developments.
Madara's plan will still work. he told himself. It MUST.
It sounded like a coping mechanism now, but it was the only thought that kept him going, kept him from putting an end to it all.
As for Itachi...
Kisame's jaw clenched.
He didn't know what he would do if they met again, hell, he wasn't even sure he wanted to.
But if Sasuke failed, if Itachi emerged from this alive, victorious, still hiding behind his silence and lies—
Then Kisame would be waiting.