Meanwhile, the rest of the Akatsuki were also wrapped in their own thoughts.
None of this had been part of the rhythm they were used to.
A spatial distortion had opened near them, abrupt and non-negotiable.
Orders followed immediately, not through projection, not through implication, but directly, with the leader present in his real form.
Kisame understood immediately.
Not because this was new information, but because it wasn't.
Kirigakure had never been a mystery to him.
It had been his proving ground.
His recruitment.
The place where he learned, firsthand, that villages didn't rot by accident, they were hollowed out deliberately.
Madara had shown him that.
Shown him Yagura.
Shown him how loyalty, secrets, and slaughter could be shaped into policy instead of chaos.
Madara had shown him something else as well.
Not mercy. Not justice. Honesty.
A world where lies weren't dressed up as ideals, where villages didn't pretend to be righteous while drowning in blood behind closed doors.
A world that admitted what it was instead of hiding behind flags and slogans.
That was why Kisame followed him.
Not because Madara promised peace.
But because he promised a world that stopped lying about itself.
So hearing Kirigakure named again, seeing the Three-Tails compromised, didn't shock him.
It amused him.
"Looks like someone finally bit back," he thought, teeth curling into a grin he didn't bother hiding.
If Madara had lost control of the village, even briefly, then whoever had done it wasn't some random rebel trash.
They had reached into a system Kisame knew intimately and broken something that wasn't supposed to break.
And if they could corner a perfect jinchūriki?
His grip tightened slightly around Samehada.
Then this wouldn't be boring.
Deidara was irritated.
Not afraid. Annoyed.
Dragged across the world without warning, no proper buildup, no time to savor anticipation.
He hated being summoned like a tool, even if it came from the leader himself.
"So some brats think they can steal a bijū from under our noses," he thought, eye twitching.
Kirigakure meant nothing to him.
A foggy backdrop. A stage.
If there was going to be a fight, then he'd make sure it was spectacular.
Sasori was quieter.
He didn't care about villages.
He didn't care about bijū either, except as components in a larger mechanism.
What caught his attention was the timing.
Someone had disrupted a long-term system.
That implied either recklessness or confidence.
Both were dangerous.
"If they acted this decisively," he calculated, "then they aren't improvising."
That made them interesting.
Kakuzu felt only irritation at inefficiency.
Kirigakure was just another asset that had apparently depreciated overnight.
Still, bijū were valuable.
Control was valuable.
And if someone had interfered with either, then eliminating them was a necessary expense.
"Fine," he thought coldly. "I'll collect the debt myself."
Hidan was the only one smiling openly.
A real fight. No waiting. No contracts. Just slaughter.
"A village, a rebellion, and some idiots who think they can steal from gods," he thought with delight. "Jashin's gonna love this."
He didn't care who the masked man was.
Didn't care about Akatsuki's logistics.
If he got to kill something that screamed back, that was enough.
What bound them wasn't loyalty.
It was also pressure.
The leader was here.
The masked Uchiha was here.
Could they really disobey them now, after that first, unmistakable display of power just now before the teleportation?
And whatever had happened in Kirigakure had escalated past internal correction into open challenge.
None of them liked being moved like this.
But none of them were foolish enough to refuse.
Because whatever awaited them near Kirigakure had already done something no one else had managed in years.
They had forced Akatsuki to move as one.
And that meant one thing.
Whoever was waiting out there wasn't just prey.
They were a problem and an open challenge to all of them.
Obito let his gaze linger on Itachi for half a second longer than the others.
Enough. He had always known what Itachi was.
A self-loathing instrument shaped by Konoha's elders, polished through years of brainwashing and obedience training. A spy.
Someone who never truly fit Akatsuki's profile.
Which begged the obvious question.
Why bring him in at all?
There were several reasons.
First, control.
A talented Uchiha with Mangekyo Sharingan, left unobserved, was a liability.
Bringing Itachi into the organization placed him directly under Obito's scrutiny, where his movements, growth, intentions, and even the quiet progression of his illness and the gradual strain on his dōjutsu could be observed, measured, and accounted for rather than left to uncertainty.
Second, utility.
Whatever Itachi's loyalties, his strength was real.
For example, if he performed today without hesitation, without any deviation, then Obito's original judgment would be validated.
Power was power, regardless of where it came from.
And third, timing.
Obito had never wanted the tailed beast collection to move quickly.
In fact, an organization riddled with internal contradictions, spies, and traitors suited him just fine. It bought time. Delays. Noise. A perfect excuse to stretch the plan while he refined himself and tested the chains Madara had left behind.
Itachi was useful in that sense, too.
After all, that same logic was why the Nine-Tails specifically had been nominally assigned to someone like him in the first place.
But Obito was never careless with him as well.
Shared blood, in their case, didn't inspire trust.
It inspired scrutiny.
Uchiha were not like the Senju.
They didn't move as a collective.
They fractured. Clashed.
Devoured one another over ideals and pride.
History was full of examples.
That was why Kisame had been placed at Itachi's side from the beginning.
Not as a partner, but as a watcher.
Obito's closest subordinate, the only one he recruited personally, and paired deliberately to keep a blade at Itachi's back.
At first, no one trusted him.
Then, Itachi drove Orochimaru out.
That shifted the balance.
Orochimaru had always been another lingering question mark, even more so than Itachi, as a former Konoha shinobi with such an exalted status himself there and decades of former ties and ambitions that never stayed within bounds.
Too curious. Too independent.
Too willing to slip between loyalties.
No one could ever be certain he had truly severed his connection to the village.
When Itachi repelled him decisively, without hesitation or ambiguity, that doubt collapsed in on itself.
And with it, Nagato's view of Itachi subtly changed, even though Itachi had never been recruited by Nagato himself.
Trust followed.
Proximity. Influence.
Which Obito noted.
And allowed.
Because now, with his second eye restored and his power fully reasserted, he no longer feared what might happen if they ever truly turned even together against him. Let them plot.
He would use them until the moment came to discard them. Just like today.