After the Ten Tails' chakra was extracted from Obito's body, only the husk of the Ten Tails—the Gedo Statue—remained within him. As the chakra of all the tailed beasts was drawn out by Naruto, Kurama, and Inoiki, those green, phantom-like forms attached to Kurama's massive Tailed Beast chakra avatar—within which Inoiki also stood—began to take shape.
At first, they flickered like wavering flames. Then, gradually, they solidified.
One by one, the tailed beasts emerged—starting from the One-Tail, Shukaku, all the way to the Eight-Tails. Each presence carried a distinct weight, a pressure in the air that made the ground feel heavier beneath their feet. The Nine-Tails' chakra essence, however, flowed back into Kurama, merging seamlessly, as it had always belonged to him.
A faint tremor passed through the battlefield as the last of the tailed beast settled.
As for Obito, the moment the Ten Tails' chakra left his body, his strength abandoned him just as completely. His body gave out, and he collapsed onto the ground, unmoving for a moment except for the shallow rise and fall of his chest. It was inevitable—he had been the Ten Tails' Jinchuriki, and with its extraction, the cost was absolute.
The towering Nine-Tails chakra form around Naruto began to dissolve, its golden light breaking apart into drifting fragments before fading into nothing. The warmth vanished with it. As the last traces of KCM2 dissipated, Naruto dropped lightly to the ground, now clad in his usual clothes, the radiant glow around him gone. He stood there, breathing steadily, his gaze fixed ahead.
Silence lingered for a brief moment, heavy and uncertain.
Obito slowly turned his head, his eyes finding Inoiki. A faint, self-mocking smile tugged at his lips—tired, hollow.
"You were right," he said, his voice quieter than before, stripped of its earlier conviction. "Although I was ignoring it from the beginning… it's clear now."
He let out a weak breath, his gaze unfocused for a second. All of it… just a lie I chose to believe.
"I was played like a fool… and forced into becoming something I never wanted to be."
Inoiki nodded slightly and said, "Yes, this is definitely the case, because Madara was behind all of it. He was the one who manipulated your life, used you to fulfill his goals—that is, to resurrect himself and cast the Infinite Tsukuyomi upon the whole world."
His voice remained calm, steady, almost indifferent.
But the last part, Inoiki did not speak aloud.
Instead, his gaze lingered on Obito for a brief moment as his voice echoed directly inside Obito's mind, quiet yet piercing. "But he himself doesn't know that, just as he played you… he is also being played by someone else."
A faint breeze passed across the battlefield, carrying dust and the lingering scent of scorched earth.
At this time, Inoiki turned toward Naruto and said, "I am feeling quite weak, and I would like to have some rest. Why don't you go and meet your father? He is here. You won't get a better chance than this."
Naruto blinked, clearly confused.
When Inoiki had been inside the Nine-Tails' chakra form, he had been continuously surrounded by Kurama's chakra, recovering rapidly—almost back to his peak condition. And yet now, he was saying he felt weak.
Naruto's eyes narrowed slightly. That doesn't add up…
Still, he didn't question it out loud. He understood there was likely a reason behind Inoiki's words—something deliberate, something planned.
So, after a brief pause, he nodded.
"Okay… go and have some rest."
Inoiki gave a small nod in return. Without another word, he walked over to a short, jagged rock nearby and sat down, deliberately placing a considerable distance between himself and Obito. His posture relaxed, but his awareness did not fade—his eyes remained sharp, observing.
Not far from there, Naruto and Minato began speaking to each other, their voices low but filled with an unspoken weight. As they talked, Minato's attention occasionally shifted, his gaze turning toward Obito, as if preparing to say something to him as well.
The night had grown quiet.
Only the pale light of the full moon illuminated the battlefield, casting long, stretched shadows across the broken ground.
And then—
Something moved.
Around Obito's fallen body, his shadow began to wriggle.
At first, it was subtle—a slight distortion, like a trick of the light. But then it grew more pronounced, twisting unnaturally. The darkness stretched and shifted, extending outward like thin, creeping tendrils.
Like tentacles.
They writhed silently around him, alive in a way that shadows should never be.
…
So, when Black Zetsu saw the weakened Obito lying at a distance—and Inoiki seemingly having withdrawn from the area to rest—his thoughts moved quickly, cold and precise.
In that narrow window, he had seen opportunity.
He had calculated that before Inoiki could react—and even if he did, his reaction speed would be dulled by fatigue—there would be enough time. Enough time to take control of Obito's body, to seize it completely.
And once that was done—
Everything would fall back into place.
Using the Mayfly technique, he could slip into the ground and escape instantly, carrying Obito with him. From there, he would head straight toward Madara. And with Madara's assistance, controlling Obito's body would become effortless.
Then, the resurrection.
After that… the rest would follow naturally.
That had been the plan.
Simple. Direct. Certain.
Because Black Zetsu held an almost blind confidence in Madara—a deep, unwavering faith that bordered on absolute certainty. To him, Madara's strength was unquestionable, insurmountable.
Even someone like Inoiki—
Was not enough.
And in a sense… that belief was not entirely wrong.
Even now, Inoiki would not willingly choose to face Madara at his peak. Not without preparation. Not without a plan already in motion.
Because he knew.
Based on everything he had seen—his own memories, his understanding of Madara's power, and what he had witnessed while fighting Obito—there were limits he could not ignore.
At best… he could contain him.
Seal him away in another dimension.
That was the most he could realistically achieve.
Defeating Madara outright? Killing him?
No.
That was not something even Inoiki could claim with certainty.
And he knew it.
…
Just as the black, liquid-like mass began to rise, stretching toward Obito's fallen body, ready to engulf him—
He vanished.
In the very next instant, the space where Obito had been was replaced.
Inoiki stood there.
The transition was seamless, almost imperceptible. A faint distortion rippled through the air—barely noticeable—marking the moment he had acted. With precise control, he had used his psychokinesis to pull Obito away from danger, relocating him instantly, while he himself appeared in that exact spot through space teleportation.
The black mass halted for a fraction of a second, as if confused.
Inoiki did not hesitate.
He raised his hand, fingers slightly spread, his expression calm but sharp.
"Space Cage."
The moment his voice fell, the air itself seemed to tighten.
An invisible boundary snapped into existence, encasing the black liquid along with the chunk of ground beneath it. Though unseen, its presence was undeniable—the space within it distorted faintly, like heat shimmering over stone.
Then, slowly—
The entire section of trapped space lifted into the air.
Dust slipped off the edges of the enclosed ground as it rose, leaving behind a clean, unnatural void where it had once been. Suspended midair, the black, writhing entity was completely contained.
This shadow-like being was none other than Black Zetsu.
And Inoiki had been waiting for him.
From the very beginning, he had anticipated this move. His earlier act—feigning weakness, claiming he needed rest—had been deliberate. A calculated opening. He had known that Black Zetsu would seize the opportunity, would attempt to take control of Obito the moment his guard seemed lowered.
And just as expected, he had taken the bait.
Now, he was trapped.
Black Zetsu thrashed within the invisible prison, its form rippling and twisting violently. The cage itself could not be seen—only the piece of ground suspended in the air gave away its presence, along with the faint distortions of space surrounding it.
"Dammit! Let me go! Dammit! What the hell are you doing?!" Black Zetsu shouted, his voice sharp and filled with fury.
He struggled frantically, his dark form stretching, probing, searching for even the smallest gap. Again and again, he tried to slip downward, aiming for the ground below.
Because as long as he could touch the earth—
He could escape.
Using the Mayfly technique, he could merge with the ground and vanish instantly.
But no matter how he twisted, how he forced his body outward—
He couldn't reach it.
The invisible walls held firm.
And for the first time, there was something else beneath his anger.
A flicker of unease.
Inoiki lifted his hand slightly, and with a subtle motion, the floating space cage obeyed, drifting through the air until it hovered directly in front of him. The distorted space within shimmered faintly under the moonlight, the chunk of earth suspended unnaturally as Black Zetsu writhed atop it.
Inoiki's gaze remained fixed on him—calm, calculating.
"I was waiting for you," he said, his voice even, carrying no trace of strain. "Waiting for you to take the bait I had prepared."
A faint pause followed, the night air still around them.
"Or, to be precise… it wasn't even that careful of a setup."
His eyes narrowed just slightly.
"It's simply that I knew you would be desperate."
The invisible cage gave a faint hum as it held firm, despite Black Zetsu's continuous attempts to break free.
"Even with Obito's strength, he couldn't accomplish much. He's been defeated—by me, and by the combined efforts of all of us." Inoiki's tone remained steady, almost analytical, as if he were stating an obvious conclusion. "At that point, if you wanted to revive Madara, you had no choice but to act. You had to try and take control of Obito's weakened body."
Inoiki's lips curved faintly—not quite a smile, but close.
"And just as expected… you arrived right on time."
Inside the cage, Black Zetsu's movements stilled for a brief moment.
The realization settled in.
He had walked straight into a trap.
For a split second, his form rippled unevenly, as if reflecting that internal shift. But strangely, there was no immediate outburst—no frantic denial. The anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but something else accompanied it now.
A heavy, suffocating weight.
After all these years… this was the closest he had ever come.
The plan he had nurtured for decades—no, centuries—was finally within reach. The resurrection of his mother, Kaguya, had never felt more certain than it had just moments ago.
And now—
It was slipping away.
Because of one variable he had not accounted for.
Inoiki.
The thought alone caused his form to twitch violently, frustration bleeding through every movement. His plans, his manipulations, the countless sacrifices and schemes… all of it had led to this moment.
And now, it was unraveling.
No…
The idea refused to settle.
Years of planning—meticulous, patient, absolute—reduced to nothing.
That was something he could not accept.