Kirigakure.
The Mizukage Tower.
As the most important and central structure in the Hidden Mist Village, the Mizukage Tower was built with grandeur befitting its significance.
But unlike the bustling Hokage Tower in Konoha, the Mizukage Tower was surrounded not by merchants and civilians, but by shinobi training grounds and ANBU drilling fields.
Unlike the warmth of Konoha, the atmosphere here was harsh and militarized—cold, ruthless, and unforgiving.
Pushing open the door, Yoru stepped inside.
Right away, he saw the Third Mizukage standing by the window, hands folded behind his back, gazing silently at the fog-shrouded village below. Though frail and aged in appearance, there was an eerie weight to the man's presence.
"I received a full report from Yagura," the Third Mizukage said, without turning. "If it weren't for you, Kirigakure would've been completely defeated in this war."
Then he turned, eyes resting on the masked shinobi before him. "Yoru… your growth has truly exceeded all expectations. With someone like you in our village, I feel at ease."
Yoru's expression remained flat. "Appreciate the praise, but I doubt you called me here just to flatter me."
"Hmph… still as sharp as ever."
The Third Mizukage moved behind his desk, retrieved a sealed scroll, and slid it across the table toward Yoru. "This contains the latest intelligence from the Iwagakure front. Iwa and Konoha are now in full-scale war, both sides throwing everything they've got onto the battlefield."
He paused, eyes narrowing. "If you were to step in now, with your unrivaled Ice Release… perhaps you could tip the scales, and secure a decisive victory for Kirigakure."
Yoru sighed, shaking his head.
"Yagura gave you the full report. You know the price we paid at the frontlines. And despite all that, your only thought is still war?"
"That's exactly why we need this," the Mizukage snapped, now visibly agitated. "A glorious victory to wash away the shame of our losses! Imagine it—Konoha, the mightiest village, and Iwa, just behind it, both crushed beneath Kirigakure's might! The Land of Fire, the Land of Earth… their territory and resources would all be ours! We'd dominate the Shinobi World! Think of the glory—for Kirigakure, and for you!"
Yoru laughed coldly.
"And what happens after that? After I destroy both nations and take their lands, what then? We barely have ten thousand people left in Kirigakure—including civilians. We don't even have enough manpower to properly govern our own archipelago. And you think we can control two entire nations?"
He stepped forward, voice sharpened with disdain. "You'd have no choice but to bring in outsiders to make up the numbers—foreigners, spies, even traitors. In just a few years, the village would rot from within and fall apart."
The Mizukage's expression darkened.
"You don't understand—"
"No. You don't," Yoru said sharply. "You've learned nothing. You're still stuck in the mindset of endless bloodshed. And if you keep dragging this village toward ruin…"
His Sharingan spun behind the mask, the tomoe glowing faintly.
"…then I'll have no choice but to take the village from you."
The Mizukage recoiled.
"What are you saying? Rebellion? Are you threatening me, Yoru?!"
But Yoru didn't answer.
His gaze pierced the Mizukage, tracing the faint signature of foreign chakra woven into his presence—something dark and invasive. Something familiar.
"That chakra… it isn't yours. It's tied to a Sharingan. So I was right after all."
He stepped forward, voice calm, but absolute.
"Before Tobi took control of the Fourth, the Third was already being manipulated. That's the only explanation for the utter idiocy of Kirigakure's war decisions during the Third Shinobi War."
"And there's only one man in this world capable of casting illusions strong enough to enslave a Kage like you."
Yoru narrowed his gaze.
"Uchiha… Madara."
The name landed like thunder.
The Third Mizukage froze, unable to hide his reaction.
But before he could speak, Yoru reached up and removed his half-mask.
His right eye—a glowing, scarlet Sharingan—spun violently.
In that instant, a tsunami of ocular power surged forth.
The Mizukage clutched his head, shrieking in pain.
"AAAGHH! No! What… what is this?! AAAGGHHHH—!!"
Elsewhere—deep underground…
In the darkness of his lair, Uchiha Madara jolted violently, collapsing from his meditative state. His aged body shuddered, blood-tears trickling from his left eye.
White Zetsu barely caught him in time.
"Madara! What's wrong?!"
Nearby, Obito blinked as the genjutsu space dissolved around him, concern clouding his face.
"Tch. So even you can't maintain it anymore, huh? That body really is falling apart."
"Shut up," Madara growled. "This isn't about the body."
"It's the genjutsu—Yoru just broke it."
"…What?"
Obito didn't comprehend.
"That eye," Madara hissed. "That damn Sharingan from Shisui. It's not normal… the power behind it—!"
He clutched his eye socket in agony.
"That wasn't just any genjutsu. He tore through my illusion like it was nothing."
"That's impossible," Obito muttered. "Shisui's eye only had a normal Sharingan. Just three tomoe. There's no way it could rival a Mangekyō."
Madara clenched his jaw, eyes narrowing.
"Then tell me—have you ever seen a regular three-tomoe produce chakra on par with your Mangekyō?"