Chapter Text
Weeks Ago
He had lost. He had been outplayed with knowledge that should have been impossible to have. Most ninjas worked that way. Once you knew how someone's abilities worked, it was much easier to plan around them, or come prepared for them specifically. Ninja kept what they did close to their chest. Always kept a secret in the back ready to be used.
Yet here he was, outplayed. She knew too much. That he was the power behind the Mizukage? Impressive, but possible for someone that had been in Akatsuki and was one of the most brilliant minds in the world. Knowledge of his ability to phase through objects and teleport? Almost impossible. No one had lived after fighting him except Minato, and he died less than an hour after and that hour was spent fighting the Kyubi. The Hashirama cells though?
The only person who could possibly know was Zetsu, and there was no way she got that out of Zetsu. Not willingly at least.
"I know everything," She said. Not that he could hear, his ears ringing the way they were, but he could read her lips just fine. His mind supplemented the sensual menace that she seemed to effortlessly give in every interaction. A ridiculous statement that seemed possible coming from her. He felt his heart stutter in the icey fist of fear.
Knowledge was power. He had entered the fight thinking himself untouchable, or at least an equal match, and yet clearly he had been dancing to her tune the entire time. The only time he had power in the situation was because she had let him have it so that he would sit still and let her poison do its work.
Then, she leaned forward like she was going to whisper a secret to a lover, her lips pulled back in a wicked smile.
"Obito-kun."
Time stopped.
She knew.
It wasn't possible. There was no way she knew, and yet, clearly she did. He couldn't breath. Couldn't think. How long had they been dancing in her palm?
He teleported away in a swirl of his power.
It was one of their hidden bases. The fall back place from Mist. Only he and Zetsu knew of it. Zetsu stood there waiting for him.
"Ah, Tobi. They caused a bit more trouble than we-" The black half of Zetsu began.
Obito fell to the ground and lost sight of his lips before he could see the rest of what the man was saying.
He still couldn't breath. He wasn't sure if it was the panic or the cancer, but his stomach ached from the effort of trying to get air. He thrust out a hand towards Zetsu and gave a panicked "Stay back!"
The monochrome man slowed and kept his distance.
"Poison. Hashirama cells." He groaned out, his good hand clutching at his chest. "Cells multiplying. Too much. Too fast."
His consciousness was leaving him. As he slipped away into the dark, his last thought terrified him.
What if she was lying about what the poison did?
XXXXXXXXX
Zetsu stared in shock as Obito lost consciousness.
It was unthinkable. The only person to ever see through Obito's abilities had been Namikaze Minato, and even then he'd shrugged off the damage thanks to the Hashirama cells. Anyone that would have any chance in putting Obito down shouldn't also be able to deal with him before he could just teleport away. He was too potent a mix damage prevention, mobility, and self-healing to be able to be put down. Anyone who had even the inkling of ability to take him down was just avoided entirely. And yet clearly Orochitama had come prepared for Obito specifically.
Just like she had prepared all of her bases and outposts with something that prevented him from melding to the walls. Now they found that she had something to attack Hashirama cells. The army of White Zetsu they had created were useless in the face of poison made to combat Hashirama cells. She said or did something to make Obito commit to staying long enough that she could win. She knew what he could do and possibly even why he did it. She had impossible knowledge and was acting against them.
"We can't just let him die here." His white half said desperately.
Obito moaned in pain at his feet.
"What do you want me to do about it?" His black side growled.
They didn't have a lot of options, and while Obito was their best piece on the field right now, they could probably still swing something with Nagato. He'd rather not have to rely on the Rinnegan user though; he was not as easily fooled as Obito was and had very different ideas on how to use the Gedo statue and Ten-Tails. Still, inserting some sort of schism between him and that paper bitch could-
"I could take it." White said.
Black stopped, considering. White was but one of many. This particular iteration of a White was useful to him. It was the most experienced and skilled of the ones they had, but its usefulness was greatly less than Obito's.
"How?"
"I'll bond with him, then leave, taking all the Hashirama cells with me." White said.
"His internal organs are half Hashirama. He'll die anyways."
"We have another White near by. They will arrive in minutes. Have it bond with him, it will keep him alive."
Black nodded. It made sense.
"Do it. Try to live as long as possible but move away from us both. I'll try to save him, but the longer you live, the better our chance to study this poison."
They split apart. White didn't hesitate. It embraced Obito like a hurt child before splitting apart and forming around him.
White develop small bumps along his skin within just seconds of contact, but the scientific creation stayed in connection with the man and took his time grabbing every Hashirama cell he could. It took a level of control most White's didn't have; on a level that wouldn't also instantly kill Obito at least.
It took a full minute, an agonizing horror-filled minute, but White eventually wrested control of everything he needed to grab and all at once, ripped himself from the Uchiha with a wet squelching sound and a spurt of blood and viscera. As he disconnected, Obito briefly sat upright and released a violent cry of searing agony that quickly grew strangled and faint before again flopping to the ground and letting out short raged breaths.
Black leapt into action. Medical Jutsu was not something he advertised as being a part of his repertoire, but it was one he was quite adept at. When Mother was returned to the world, he would make sure nothing could ever make her leave it again.
The damage was severe though, and Black doubted that even Tsunade would have been able to save Obito in his current state. There was a reason Obito's comrades wrote him off for dead after he was crushed by rocks. Without the healing power of Hashirama cells, Obito could not continue to live. It took all that he had just to keep the Uchiha alive long enough for the other White to enter the room.
He succeeded, but barely. He wasn't sure that the Uchiha didn't suffer brain damage in the meantime; something to keep an eye on.
In the mere fifteen minutes that passed, the infected White had been transformed. He sat, huddled in the corner, eyes leaking tears of pain as he gentle rocked himself back and forth; at least, as much as bulging misshapen blob could rock. His mouth locked open where he took deep and desperate breaths that rattled loudly in the stone room. Massive tumors spread from every conceivable surface. They would occasionally pop with a burst of the white fleshy material that made up the White Zetsu and splattered it against the wall. His fingers were embedded in his chest, literally, as he attempted to relieve some manner of pressure within the depths of his most vital area.
It was the most horrific sight Black had seen in centuries, and it been caused by someone who tried to pass themselves off as a tittering vapid woman.
Really, his plans for the ninja world were deserved.
XXXXXXXXXXXXX
(Back to present)
Nagato had been trained to know that patience was a virtue. A truth of the world that Jiraiya had managed to impress upon him more than any of his other students. It was best to wait, to act at the right time. If one was patient, you would often find the enemy defeated themselves. This was not to say that one should be afraid to act either. That could kill you just the same. It was an act of balance, but one his mind constantly weighed the scales for.
His heart, however, had grown quite used to not having to wait.
When he told someone to be somewhere, they where there. When he stated he was hungry, food was brought to him promptly. Such was the nature of things as a leader of a nation and a band of killers. It was known that if you angered the boss, your life expectancy didn't was short.
Nagato was not feeling patient. "You're late."
"Apologise, Leader-sama, we've been cleaning up that mess in Mist." The White Zetsu stated while the Black stared at him in vague contempt.
The contempt was normal. Black had a base hatred for everyone and everything. It made him useful, and predictable, to an extent. Madara's servant was only unpredictable when one didn't know all the facts; which was the real challenge, as he seemed to know everyone's secrets. Everyone, it seemed, but Orochitama.
No, it was the white half that was suspicious. It looked the same, sounded the same, at least at first. However, something was off about the more outgoing side of Zetsu. In the wake of the Mist uprising, with every meeting, he became more sure. This White was not the same as the one that had been there before. It was small things. Little imperfections the human eye couldn't perceive, but could be distinguished with the Rinnegan.
"When is Madara showing up?" He demanded.
"He won't be showing up today." Black stated immediately. The same answer he had gotten since Mist's fall.
"Why?" Pein demanded.
"Madara does not owe you an explanation." The Black growled. A more emotional display than he usually gave.
The Masked Uchiha often went weeks, even months, without showing up and speaking with him. Being gone was not, in itself, unusual for their partnership. However, Nagato knew that Madara had been working out of Mist. He didn't know to what extent, but there was too many signs showing his presence there. Going silent in the wake of Orochitama's presence in the area implied a confrontation. A confrontation that had the Snake Sannin walking around, and the Masked Uchiha absent.
It was telling.
At the end of the day, one of two things was true. Either the new Snake Sannin was far more dangerous than anyone had ever dreamed, able to clash with The Uchiha Madara and not only win, but win so successful that there were no signs of combat at all. No giant plumes of fire, no earth shattering strikes, nothing. Most Jounin far below Madra's caliber were not capable of being taken out so cleanly.
No, such a thought was practically laughable. It was far more likely that the Masked Man was not Madara. A fact that Pein had long considered to be likely, but he had expected the man to have the kind of power that rivaled his own.
If he lost to Orochitama, it seemed that was not the case. He was just a ninja with a good trick.
That wasn't to say that was anything to scoff at. Most Legendary ninja could be described as such because they developed one or two very good tricks. Kakuzu and Hidan were both excellent examples of this. They had cut through scores of talented ninja that were burgeoning legends in their own right. Such it was with many of the most notable figures in history. Mu, A, and Kurasa all had potent tricks that they leveraged in powerful and creative ways that took them to being the Kage's of their nation.
All those same legends died because someone figured out how to counter their trick.
It seemed that the Masked Uchiha was the same.
"Let us both stop playing the fool. I am not sure your master is even alive. I have allowed you your freedom and your secrets because of the utility to you bring. Do not make me reconsider. If I do not see him before the end of the month, I will assume he's dead." Pein stated firmly.
Zetsu glowered at him. The White side even looked exasperated, though he stayed silent. (Again, out of character. White would normally make a joke or try to appear overly friendly to diffuse the situation.)
"Is that why you demanded I come here? To posture?" Black shot back.
"No." Pein replied dully. "Orochitama. She has become a nuisance. She has made actions against us directly, and in the public eye. I need information. Was this the extent of her plan? To use us to distract from the forming of her village? She has her throne, is she best left alone?"
Zetsu grimaced. "Finding information about her is...difficult." Said Black.
"That bitch is paranoid about us specifically." White complained. "Every structure her people build has some property where we can't phase through it. We can't get into her bases and listen into their information."
Nagato raised an eyebrow. "You've found nothing?"
"It's not nothing. I know she's building something in Wave, but it's all civilian contractors and they don't seem to entirely know what they're building yet. There are whispers of her also not being the one to take the Kage position, but it's probably just misinformation being put out to reassure the other villages. Make them hesitate. They can swallow the village's existence if she's not in charge."
Pein hummed, but didn't comment. He did not understand this new snake enough to be certain of Zetsu's assessment. To go through all the effort of making a ninja village, and not putting yourself in charge seemed foolish, but the Snake Mistress had already taken many actions he thought to be foolish, only for it to be unveil as part of a master plan. He would not dismiss it out of hand.
"If you cannot use your unique abilities to get information, use traditional ones. Work with Sasori. He should have some agents implanted in the former village of Grass. If they don't know anything, create your own agents. If you can't create one, kidnap one and bring them to me. I will extract the information we need from them." Nagato stated firmly.
"Of course, Leader-Sama." Zetsu agreed. The title, as always, had a mocking tilt to it in the creature's mouth.
The monochrome being sunk into the ground and disappeared. The room grew silent, but not for long.
"Do you really think he's dead?" Konan asked, stepping out from her hiding place in the shadows.
"No. Black would be demanding vengeance if that were the case." Nagato responded simply.
"Then why antagonize him?" She pressed.
"I do not think they share our vision on the use of the Gedo statue. We want the same thing, but I have no illusions that when we win, they will try to use it in the way they see fit. We will come to blows, it is only a matter of time."
If it was just the fake Madara, Pein would have just killed him. Ironically, it was Zetsu that stayed his hand. The plant like man was too valuable a tool. He was too skilled in infiltrating the most secure locations possible and coming back with information. Pein had the might already, he just needed information and assistance.
There were few ninja that could take the full might of the Rinnegan. There were only ever two ninja that Nagato found himself doubtful he could kill. Itachi and the Masked Uchiha.
Now, the Masked Uchiha had been replaced with the Snake Mistress.
XXXXXXXXXXXX
I laid in bed on my stomach, idly kicking my legs behind me as I read through my pen pal's letters.
He was such a serious guy. Real stickler for being "proper" but was an absolute sucker for a philosophical discussion, but that was probably expected for the leader of head Samurai of the country of Iron. He also had a great passion for art and education and indulged my discussion on that as well. Even if his version of art was mostly poetry that could never be as deep as its seventeen syllables pretended to be and writing a single character in a really fancy way. Still, letters had been exchanged consistently for months. Ever since I had landed on the idea of bringing Star Wars to the ninja world, I had been sending exchanging letters with the man.
Granted, he didn't know who I was at first, but what had started as mildly threatening letters steeped in the usual samurai/ninja contempt, soon turned into great discussion on the responsibility of government and how honor could be brought to the systems in place to better help the world.
In short, I liked the guy.
It was fairly easy to convince him to hold the Kage Summit. The formation of my village had created waves and he was interested in it not turning into a riptide that pulled his nation out to war. He was easily seen as impartial and was considered wise enough that no one would mind his moderation.
If the other nations didn't try to also have genuine pleasant conversation with the man and get on his good side, I couldn't help them.
I was left with one big question that needed answering though.
"Is he one of those samurai that wants the flashy and flaunting women? Or the kind that wants them understated and proper?" I muttered as I skimmed through the letters.
I needed to know how much I needed to floozie up or chaste down.
After all, I needed to make sure the moderator would let me talk for as long as I needed to.