Waking from the dream, Uchiha Sogetsu pinched out the candle flame.
He rubbed at his aching brow, exhaled slowly, and opened his eyes again. The restless surge in his spirit smoothed out bit by bit, simmering back down to its usual steady burn.
"As expected," he murmured, looking toward the window, "advancing to Dreamwalker pushed my rank up another step."
He could feel it—in the way his thoughts flowed, in the way the air around him seemed to hold more weight, in how the world's seams were easier to touch.
"It took some effort," he went on, "but the result was worth it. Test run successful."
Which meant one major headache was finally gone.
The biggest limitation of Hermes's brass candlestick had always been range.
Cross a certain distance and the relic simply couldn't pull people into his dream-country anymore. That was why the Tarot gatherings had been interrupted for so long.
If he let that drag on, suspicion was inevitable.
He couldn't just… keep canceling meetings forever.
But after advancing, after spending time exploring his new traits and Extraordinary abilities, he'd found another path.
He could take three powers—"Hypnosis," "Guidance," "Suggestion"—and inscribe them into an object using mystic symbols, then cut off a sliver of his own spirituality and bind it to that vessel.
Once that was done, distance stopped mattering.
As long as someone held that object—and he had a thread of them in his hand—he could drag them into a dream whenever he wanted.
With dream-walking, he could even step to them in an instant—crossing from mind to mind, from unconscious to unconscious, like stepping-stones.
Ōnoki's appearance, though, had been pure accident.
Originally, Sogetsu had only stayed in the Land of Waves to ambush Iwa's envoys.
If Kiri was serious about starting a war with Konoha, Iwagakure would absolutely send people.
He'd planned to quietly tag whoever passed through—tie them into his future network.
He got more than he'd hoped for.
Instead of small fry, a big fish floated into his net.
Obviously, he wasn't going to waste that.
Under the cover of his Psychology Veil, he slipped the prepared mystic item into Ōnoki's room and waited.
After that, everything was simple.
Turn up the dial on the old man's fear of Uchiha Madara.
Then feed him carefully edited "future clips"—all the horror, none of the context—to make sure when Ōnoki thought of coming disaster, his mind turned in one direction.
Konoha.
Just in case age had sanded his brain down too much, Sogetsu even made sure to "remind" him that Konoha's Second Hokage, Senju Tobirama, had been famous for forbidden jutsu—some of which were rumored to resurrect the dead from the Pure Land.
"Konoha has jutsu to bring back the dead," Sogetsu said to himself now, lips quirking. "And Uchiha Madara appears alive in the future…"
His smile widened, razor-thin.
"So the culprit is Konoha. Perfectly reasonable, don't you think?"
From a certain angle, it wasn't even wrong.
The one who would eventually bring Madara back was, strictly speaking, a shinobi of Konoha.
If Ōnoki concluded that made Konoha the villain… well. It was wrong in a satisfying, technically-correct sort of way.
Any problems?
None at all.
It was logical. It was "rigorous." It was the kind of conclusion an experienced Kage could reach on his own, with just the right nudge.
One thing was certain:
The Third Great Shinobi War would be arriving much, much earlier than the history books remembered.
Sogetsu straightened his collar, eyes glittering faintly.
"I've been away long enough," he said. "The venerable Hokage-sama should have cooled down by now. Time to go home."
Outside, snow fell in thick, muffling curtains.
Year 45 of Konoha's founding slid quietly into place.
Days of hard travel later, he reached the Fire Country border.
He sat on a fallen trunk in the woods, resting in the hush of the snow, when his ears twitched.
Soft footfalls.
He tilted his head—and saw a small shape slip between the trees.
A ninja cat, with a Konoha forehead protector strapped around its neck, padded silently into the clearing.
"So it's you, Rikimaru," Sogetsu said, smiling as he reached down to scratch its head.
The cat purred and arched into his hand.
He unfastened the scroll from its back.
It was sealed with red wax.
From Hikari.
He broke it and scanned the contents, his eyes moving quickly down the neat lines.
At first, his expression was ordinary.
Then his brows lowered, lips tightening. A dark shadow passed over his face.
Most of the letter was harmless: details of her travels with Tsunade, small stories about training and field medicine, little daily annoyances.
If that had been all, he would've read it with half a smile and tucked it away.
But at the end—
Hikari had written, in a few short lines, that she'd been secretly tracking Chizen. That she'd ignored his previous warning to stay out of this—and that she'd now found a possible trail.
Worse.
She was planning to use her ability to try and control him.
Sogetsu nearly spat blood right there.
"Use your ability on Chizen?"
Whether she could succeed wasn't even the point.
Even if she did manage to seize Chizen's strings for a moment—it wouldn't change the fact that Ōtsutsuki Isshiki was hiding inside that body.
"Reckless," Sogetsu said, eyes narrowing.
Stupid, reckless, well-intentioned, infuriating.
Good intentions or not, this was kicking a wasp nest blindfolded. If Isshiki felt threatened too early, the ripples could wreck everything he'd been building.
"Meow."
Rikimaru rubbed against his leg, then spat something out onto the snow.
A scrap of dark-blue cloth, stiff with dried blood.
Sogetsu's pupils shrank.
He picked it up, fingertips brushing the familiar fabric.
"Is she alive?" he asked, voice low.
"Meow."
Rikimaru nodded, as much as a cat could.
It hadn't learned human speech yet, but its meaning was clear.
Sogetsu's shoulders relaxed by a fraction. He let out a slow breath.
"Next time," he said softly, "you won't be that lucky."
He thought for a while, then took out paper and ink and wrote a new letter.
The phrasing was sharp, almost harsh. He explicitly forbade Hikari from digging up anything related to Chizen again.
This was his problem.
He had other plans.
He fed Rikimaru a few soldier pills, rubbed its head again, and tied the new scroll to its back.
"Go on," he said. "Good work, Rikimaru."
"Meow~"
The cat dipped its head, then vanished in a puff of smoke.
"Chizen…"
Sogetsu's eyes went cold.
Hikari had acted on her own—but he understood her heart. She'd only wanted to help. To take some weight off his shoulders.
He couldn't just sit back and do nothing.
But with his current strength, confronting Chizen head-on was suicide.
"Looks like I'll have to… give him something else to worry about," Sogetsu said, a chill smile touching his lips.
He might not be able to fight Isshiki yet.
But he could still make life… inconvenient.
That was what a Spectator did best: quietly nudging events. Sliding knives into the flow of thoughts and trends.
Making the board move his way.
Rustle, rustle.
A whisper of movement slid through the trees.
Someone was out there, half-hidden behind the trunk of a thick old pine, eyes gleaming with hungry greed as they watched him.
The voice that came out was rough, rasping:
"Heh. Lucky day."
"I didn't expect to bump into Konoha's Uchiha Sogetsu out here. There's an eighty-million-ryō bounty on your head in the black market, you know."
Sogetsu's Sharingan opened, scarlet light washing over his gaze.
"I'm not in a good mood," he said flatly.
"I'll give you three seconds to disappear. If you do, I'll let you live."
"Heh. Konoha shinobi really are arrogant."
The man behind the tree chuckled, cold and mocking.
◇ BONUS & SUPPORT ◇
◇ 1 bonus chapter for every 10 reviews — drop a comment!
◇ 1 bonus chapter for every 100 Power Stones.
◇ Read 60 chapters ahead on P@treon → patreon.com/StrawHatStudios