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While Minato Namikaze was celebrating his wedding.
His student, Obito Uchiha, was in the Hidden Mist Village, conducting a slaughter of unspeakable cruelty.
In just a few short days, Obito, manipulating Yagura, led ninja forces in a massacre of the village's kekkei genkai clans.
It wasn't that Obito wanted to rush. He had to.
To wipe out clans, you had to be fast.
Give them time to react, to band together, and resistance was inevitable.
After so many days of killing, the river water in Kiri ran red. The very air carried the faint, metallic tang of blood.
Now, Obito decided it was time to pause.
Their success so far was built on surprise, on catching the clans unprepared.
The ones left were on high alert now. Smooth sailing was over. The real work—the slow, grinding work—was about to begin.
During these days, Obito had also noted a promising candidate for the Akatsuki.
Under the cover of night, a Kiri-nin named Kisame Hoshigaki moved.
He slipped past several guards—their bodies now cooling in the shadows—and entered a secured building.
A heavy iron door blocked his path, sealed with thick chains.
Kisame drew a kunai. A sharp clang, and the chains fell away.
He pushed the door open.
Inside, on weapon racks, rested several blades. Unclaimed members of the legendary Seven Ninja Swords.
Kisame walked straight to one in particular. The blade that once belonged to Fuguki Suikazan, slain on the battlefield by Qianyu.
Samehada.
He pulled it from the rack, hefting its strange, scaled weight, and secured it across his back.
As he turned to leave, a voice cut through the silence behind him.
"Impressive work, Kisame."
Kisame spun, his hand already gripping Samehada's hilt.
"I suspected you'd try this," the voice continued. "While we were busy with the clans, you'd sneak in. Under our current… survival-of-the-fittest policy, since you successfully claimed Samehada, you are now its master. And, by extension, my subordinate."
Yagura stepped from the shadows.
A mocking smile touched Kisame's lips. "Until you decide to erase me too, Lord Fourth Mizukage?"
"I know your character. That's why I trust you," Yagura said, his tone eerily calm. "Only someone who has carried out countless dirty missions for country and village, who has betrayed again and again to complete an objective, could truly understand… this world is nothing but a fabrication."
Kisame's eyes narrowed, fixed on Yagura's. His voice dropped low. "I understood that the moment I first killed a comrade. A shinobi of the Mist, forced to slay fellow Mist shinobi… What does that make me? Friend or foe? What is my purpose? Where do I stand? Where am I going? Where can I possibly find peace?"
He looked down at his own hands, holding them up. "The only thing that feels real… is my own falsehood."
These hands. Stained with the blood of brothers-in-arms.
A new figure materialized behind Yagura.
"Then let me free you from that pain," Obito Uchiha said. "I will build a place for you to belong."
Kisame's grip tightened on Samehada. "Who are you?!"
"Start with this nation," Obito offered, his voice a low hum. "You've always fought to kill your comrades. From now on… fight as one of mine."
Kisame frowned. "You seem to trust me. Yet I don't even know who you are…"
Then he saw it. That single, glowing crimson eye in the darkness.
"A shining eye in the shadows… I see. So the one I've been calling the Fourth Mizukage… is really you." A bitter, knowing laugh escaped him. "To think you've been manipulating the Fourth, a Three-Tails Jinchūriki, with that Sharingan… Hah. This world is all a lie."
He leveled his gaze, small eyes sharp. "But with a visual prowess capable of controlling a Kage-level Jinchūriki… just who the hell are you?!"
Obito's reply was simple, earth-shattering. "Uchiha… Madara."
Kisame's eyes widened in his shark-like face, disbelief plain.
But he mastered it quickly. Cooled. "That legend died long ago. I can't trust that. Show me your true face."
"Suit yourself. Whether you believe is your choice."
Obito stepped forward and removed his mask.
To Kisame, it was not Obito's face he saw, but the stern, lined visage of Uchiha Madara himself.
The mask slid back into place. Then Obito began to speak. Of the Moon's Eye Plan. Of a world of infinite Tsukuyomi.
To Kisame, it sounded like the raving of a madman.
"Are you sane?" Kisame couldn't help but ask.
"Of course. That is my goal! The Moon's Eye Plan! That is the only true world! A world without war, without suffering. Only happiness!"
A flicker of that same madness ignited in Kisame's own eyes. A grin split his face. "Hearing you say it… I think I'd like to see this world of yours."
"Then… welcome, Kisame."
With Kisame recruited, the slaughter in Kiri continued unabated. Only now, Obito had a powerful new blade to wield.
Meanwhile, Yahiko, Pakura, and Kurosuki Raiga faced a crisis of their own.
They were broke. Again.
Fresh off their two-million-ryō windfall from Qianyu in Tanzaku Quarter, the trio had enjoyed themselves. Lavishly. For days.
A little celebration wasn't the problem.
The problem was Raiga deciding he wanted to win back the thousand ryō he'd lost at the tables last time.
That decision was a one-way ticket.
At first, luck was with them. They won. Then, as if a switch flipped, their luck vanished. They lost. And lost. And lost some more, until a pitiful fifty thousand ryō was all that remained.
Desperate, eyes red with the gambler's fever, they shoved it all onto the table.
The result was inevitable. They lost everything.
They slunk out of Tanzaku Quarter, wallets empty, hearts full of bitter regret.
Asking Qianyu for more money so soon was out of the question. Shameful. So they scrambled, taking any odd job, any low-paying mission they could find.
If Qianyu knew, he'd facepalm. Probably yell at them for a solid hour.
To think these supposed revolutionaries could be so… irresponsible.
But in a twisted way, this finally put them on track. Broke and hungry, they were finally, actually, working.
That same night, after Minato's wedding festivities ended.
Within the Hyūga compound.
Hiashi Hyūga summoned his younger brother, Hizashi. Alone.
The two sat across a table from each other. A chasm wider than any valley lay between them.
They were brothers. Blood of the same blood.
And they had absolutely nothing to say to each other.
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