Of course, Takuno's reminder to Nagato, while carrying a playful hint of watching a show, undeniably stemmed from a rare appreciation he held for Nagato himself.
The ideal of "peace" that Nagato stubbornly pursued appeared so ethereal, almost fantastical, under Takuno's scrutiny.
Perhaps even Nagato himself was not entirely unaware of this deep down.
However, knowing it was impossible, Nagato still burned his own life, stubbornly stumbling towards that mirage-like goal.
Deep within Nagato's heart, an indelible warmth and kindness always remained for those close to him, a trait that never completely vanished even after his drastic transformation.
This kindness was not only evident in his profound affection for Konan but also extended to his former sensei, Jiraiya.
Recalling Jiraiya's infiltration of the Land of Rain, it's clear that Nagato actually gave his sensei multiple opportunities to retreat unharmed.
At any moment before the final judgment, had Jiraiya chosen to escape the Hidden Rain Village, Nagato would very likely have given him a wide berth, allowing him to live.
Nagato's original intention was not to push his mentor into a corner.
However, regrettably, Jiraiya stubbornly refused these implicit chances for survival.
He pressed on until he irrevocably stepped onto the final path leading to his death.
Given the power Nagato wielded at the time, especially the "Rain Tiger at Will" covering the entire Hidden Rain Village, Jiraiya's whereabouts were exposed the moment he crossed the border.
If Nagato truly wanted to take his life, with the advantage of a surprise attack, it would have been almost effortless.
But he did not choose this most direct method.
Not only that, but in the subsequent series of direct conflicts that erupted when Jiraiya broke into the Hidden Rain Village, Nagato also held back at every turn, never fully exerting himself.
Otherwise, given the vast disparity in their strengths, Jiraiya would have had no chance of holding out against Pain for so long.
Even if Jiraiya had obtained crucial intelligence on the Six Paths of Pain beforehand, his fate would not have fundamentally changed.
At most, he could have defeated one or two of the Six Paths.
This scenario is constructed on the premise that the strongest of the Six Paths of Pain, the Deva Path, had not yet made a move.
Nagato deliberately kept the Deva Path as a trump card, precisely because it was the largest and final escape window he had reserved for Jiraiya.
One could say that Nagato would have even accepted Jiraiya taking back the corpse of one of the Six Paths of Pain.
Alas, the trajectory of fate ultimately could not be altered...
Jiraiya ultimately refused all the opportunities he was given, entering the final sanctuary.
Ultimately, between Jiraiya and his and Yahiko's ideals, Nagato chose the latter.
Perhaps, when he personally killed Jiraiya, Nagato once again became... even more disappointed in this world.
It was precisely this almost tragic persistence that stirred a tiny ripple in his heart.
Of course, Takuno's appreciation was limited to this.
He was a thorough realist and would never allow himself to be drawn into such seemingly noble but ultimately futile sacrifices.
His life's creed was clear and simple.
Provided his own interests remained completely unharmed, he didn't mind occasionally giving a gentle push to people or events that slightly moved him.
Just like with Nagato now.
This small push was all the goodwill he could offer.
It wasn't that he was stingy with providing more substantial aid.
The problem was, Takuno never made a losing deal.
All his actions followed the law of equivalent exchange; for him to truly help, he had to clearly foresee a sufficiently enticing return.
And Nagato, clearly, could not offer such a bargaining chip.
What's more, the process of Nagato's body breaking down was already irreversible.
From the moment he forcibly summoned the Gedo Statue from the moon to Earth at the cost of his own life force, his very life foundation was subjected to devastating and irreversible erosion.
Every subsequent use of the Rinnegan's power merely accelerated the extinguishing of his life's candle.
Unless Nagato had obtained a treasure like Hashirama cells at that time, there would have been a slim chance of recovery.
But even if time rewound to that moment of summoning, Takuno would have been powerless to change anything.
At that time, he himself had not yet mastered the Hashirama cells that could prolong life.
Even if he had held Hashirama cells then, Takuno would never have given them to Nagato.
Appreciation is one thing, reality is another.
Therefore, Nagato's fate, from the moment Madara chose him, was destined to slide into an inescapable tragedy.
Takuno surveyed the current situation, and an intriguing "Russian doll" structure clearly presented itself before him.
The outermost layer was Nagato, the ostensible leader of the Akatsuki, originally a crucial chess piece meticulously laid by Madara and Obito to advance their grand plan.
Responsible for collecting the Tailed Beasts and, in the end, resurrecting Madara with the Outer Path: Samsara of Heavenly Life Technique.
However, under Takuno's covert interference and guidance, seeds of rebellion had already sprouted within this chess piece, beginning to question and attempt to break free from its predetermined destiny.
The second layer was Obito, who superficially acted as a pawn controlled jointly by Madara and Black Zetsu, executing their will.
His main tasks were to monitor Nagato's execution of the plan and to advance the Eye of the Moon Plan.
But Obito was by no means a puppet without his own thoughts.
He had actually detected many hidden doubts and contradictions within the plan, but out of his persistent pursuit of the ultimate goal of the Eye of the Moon Plan, he chose to go with the flow and play along.
As shown in the original work, his core motivation for ultimately choosing to become the Ten-Tails Jinchuriki himself lay precisely here: to use the existing framework to achieve his own demands.
The third layer was Madara, the legendary Shinobi, who became Black Zetsu's most perfect tool.
He was completely in the dark, utterly unaware of the truth behind the scenes.
This was not due to Madara being overly foolish, but rather due to his excessive self-confidence and absolute trust in ancient traditions.
He had never anticipated that the Uchiha Clan stone tablet, which was considered absolutely true and trustworthy, inscribed with the secrets of the Infinite Tsukuyomi, had its contents quietly altered by Black Zetsu.
More crucially, even with Madara's discerning eye that overlooked the Shinobi World, he was completely unable to see through Black Zetsu's true nature.
After all, this mysterious entity even managed to deceive the Sage of Six Paths, who founded Ninshu.
It was the superposition of these factors that led Madara to never harbor the slightest suspicion about Black Zetsu's true motives.
And now, although Black Zetsu and Takuno had no direct contact, all the meticulously planned conspiracies he set in motion inadvertently became an indispensable part of Takuno's plan.
In this sense, viewing Black Zetsu as a hidden chess piece in Takuno's hands is entirely logical.
Thus, from Nagato to Obito, from Obito to Madara, and then from Madara to Black Zetsu, finally implicitly connecting to Takuno himself.
With schemes interlocking and control nested layer upon layer, isn't it just like a set of Russian dolls?
Thinking of this, Takuno couldn't help but let a playful smile curl his lips.
Takuno looked up, his gaze fixed on the moon, which emitted a cool, pure light.
This was the ultimate medium for casting the forbidden Jutsu, the Infinite Tsukuyomi.
"Infinite Tsukuyomi..."
Thinking of the effect of this Jutsu, a complex emotion appeared on his face.
This Jutsu could trap everyone in the world in a Genjutsu; those caught by the Infinite Tsukuyomi would enter a dream where their wishes would come true.
It seemed beautiful, but in reality, they would be enveloped by the God Tree and have their chakra absorbed; if not released in time, those enveloped would turn into White Zetsu, leading to the end of the world.
The most cruel aspect of this Jutsu was that it would bring devastating blows to places that most cherished bloodline continuation and cultural heritage.
Because everything woven by the Infinite Tsukuyomi, no matter how beautiful and splendid, was ultimately a fleeting illusion.
Under its shroud, life in the real world would completely cease to propagate, and bloodlines would be severed.
The seeds of civilization would also be completely extinguished, and the so-called "heritage" would become a forgotten word.
However, Takuno knew very well that this absolute "extinction" and "severance," if placed in a certain era he knew from his previous life, might not be resisted by everyone.
Indeed, there would be a group of people who held "living in the present, enjoying life to the fullest" as their golden rule, indifferent to eternity and continuation.
For these people, the eternal dream created by the Infinite Tsukuyomi, even if known to be false...
As long as it could provide an endless stream of extreme sensory pleasures and false satisfaction sufficient to numb the soul, they would sincerely embrace this illusory world, indulging in it, finding it sweet.
The boundary between "true" and "false" seemed blurred to them; only "feeling real" was everything.
But Takuno himself had a deep-rooted aversion to the allure of the Infinite Tsukuyomi.
This wasn't born from an inherent dislike of falsehood itself, but rather a deeper root in power.
He clearly foresaw that once immersed in the world constructed by the Infinite Tsukuyomi, the growth of his own power would be confined by invisible shackles, and the peak he could reach would be clearly visible.
This upper limit was not the true limit of life's potential, but rather the power ceiling that this false illusion itself could simulate and contain.
And Takuno could not accept such a world that was not only false but also had an upper limit.
Takuno stretched, a smile playing on his lips.
"Next... I just need to wait and watch the show."
...
Time flowed silently beneath a seemingly calm surface.
The Akatsuki's plan continued to operate silently, even though Nagato had internally resolved to accelerate the process.
However, objective real-world conditions, the allocation of resources and manpower, and the final confirmation of Tailed Beast intelligence...
All acted like heavy chains, preventing him from achieving his goals overnight.
More crucially, he had to carefully weave a plausible excuse for "advancing" the timeline to appease the "Uchiha Madara" lurking in the shadows.
He absolutely could not let him realize that he had already discerned part of the truth.
Thus, the Akatsuki members continued to act silently in the shadows, accumulating the vast logistical supplies needed to capture the Ichibi to Eight-Tails.
Meanwhile, far away in Konoha, the bi-annual Chunin Selection Exams commenced as scheduled.
Under the active recommendation of their Jonin instructor Kakashi, his Team 7—Naruto, Sasuke, and Hinata—also entered this trial ground for testing Shinobi abilities.
On the eve of the assessment, Kakashi leaned against the training ground, his single eye beneath his silver hair quietly scrutinizing his three disciples.
His gaze swept over them, and he quickly made an assessment in his mind: Hinata, this introverted yet resilient girl, had solid fundamentals and excellent Byakugan perception.
In terms of combat experience and decisiveness against strong enemies, she was still slightly immature compared to her teammates, her strength being at a critical transitional stage from Genin to Chunin.
But if her specialties were considered, she was qualified to be a Chunin primarily focused on reconnaissance.
Sasuke was completely different; his raw strength had long surpassed the Genin level, honed through his pursuit of Naruto.
Whether it was his exquisite Shuriken techniques, his sharp Lightning Release, or his use of the Sharingan, all firmly met the Chunin standard.
And the one who stirred the most complex emotions in Kakashi's heart was the blond, blue-eyed boy, Naruto.
Although the current Naruto still carried the immaturity of a youth, the power contained within him was astonishing.
His almost bottomless, massive chakra reserves, combined with his increasingly proficient and powerful Ninjutsu, already surpassed what an ordinary Chunin could match.
Even if his Taijutsu skills were still a weakness, his advantage in chakra and Ninjutsu alone was more than enough to handle regular Special Jonin.
What's more, in critical moments, a corner of the wild and powerful Nine-Tails power sealed within this boy would occasionally leak out uncontrollably.
Whenever that crimson chakra surged, even experienced full-fledged Jonin would never dare to confidently claim they could "securely" subdue this thirteen-year-old disciple.
Kakashi's gaze became somewhat profound.
The fact that Naruto and his teammates still had to participate in the assessment step-by-step was largely due to the rules of this peaceful era.
If they were placed in an era of war, with the abilities the three currently displayed, Sasuke and Hinata's promotion to Chunin would be almost certain.
As for Naruto, with his destructive power and battlefield adaptability far exceeding his peers, he would probably have already been exceptionally promoted to Special Jonin...
This situation was remarkably similar to his own youth.
A trace of imperceptible emotion flickered across Kakashi's heart.
Nowadays, Shinobi Academy enrollment ages are generally delayed, and the stable environment no longer requires children to graduate early and join the battlefield like his generation.
The age at which these students just graduated from the Shinobi Academy was precisely the age when he set the record for becoming a Jonin at twelve years old...
Kakashi shook his head slightly; this was not an obsession with titles, but an objective fact.
Under the current education system and peaceful environment, to catch up to his age of Jonin promotion, one would need to jump directly from Genin to Jonin within the first year after graduation.
This has become an almost impossible task; the geniuses shaped by the era are, after all, different.