{Guys, what's this Fanfic fiesta thing? And is our fic in the contest? If not, should I participate with this one? I don't really know about WN's competition so someone tell me.}
~
Somewhere far from the ruined battlefield the figures of Obito and Zetsu emerged.
Zetsu's white half leaned forward slightly, tongue flicking idly as it scanned the lingering traces of chakra in the air. Its black half, smooth and expressionless, finally spoke in an amused, lazy tone.
"Why be so angry?" it asked, glancing sideways at Obito. "It was just a little tease from the boy. You look like your entire world just ended."
The words were definitely mocking.
But Zetsu knew exactly why Obito was furious. It had orchestrated the path that led him here. It had guided him into this mask, this life, this endless cycle of loss and hatred. It understood better than anyone what lay beneath that storm of chakra erupting silently around him.
What it hadn't expected… was that Ren knew.
Ren had seen something he shouldn't have been able to see. Something only three people in this world, and Zetsu itself were supposed to know. Death of Obito's love, Rin Nohara and the things that happened as a result of what happened.
And yet, impossibly, nothing had changed.
If Ren had truly exposed Obito, the world would already be in chaos. The bingo books of every great nation would have been rewritten. Konoha would be in uproar. The name of the Fourth Hokage's student would be spat with even more venom as that of Orochimaru.
But none of that had happened.
Which meant Ren either hadn't spoken… or was saving it.
Obito gave no response to Zetsu's words. His masked face stayed turned toward the place where the battlefield had been, eyes hidden behind the single void of his spiral mask. Inside his mind, however, he was no longer seeing broken stone or unconscious shinobi.
He was seeing that moment again.
Ren's hand crackling with lightning.
The Chidori piercing straight through the chest of the Stone village seal master.
The man's eyes widening in shock as life vanished from them in an instant.
That scene overlapped with another, older, deeper, far more painful.
Rain-soaked ground.
Blood-streaked hands.
Rin standing exactly where the seal master had been.
And Kakashi, in Ren's place.
The lightning driving through her heart.
Obito's breath hitched sharply beneath the mask. The rage that boiled inside him intensified, heavy and suffocating. The image of Kakashi in that moment burned behind his eyes like a brand that never faded. This encounter had peeled that wound open again, raw and bleeding.
For a brief, dangerous moment, he genuinely considered abandoning everything, plans, pawns, timing and going straight back to the village. Going straight to Kakashi. Ending it with his own hands.
Zetsu felt the shift instantly. The pressure in the air thickened, warped by Obito's unstable emotions. It didn't comment on it. It simply waited.
Then, suddenly, something small fluttered down through the quiet between them.
A single butterfly.
Zetsu's white half perked up immediately, tongue flicking out with childish excitement. It had already leaned forward to snatch the insect out of the air when it froze.
There was a note tied to the butterfly's leg.
Both Zetsu and Obito paused just a fraction. There was only one person in this world who used butterflies like this. Only one who dared to send messages in this manner now.
Obito slowly raised his hand. The butterfly, as if guided, landed gently on his palm. For a moment it rested there, wings fluttering softly, completely unaware of the storm it had flown into.
The folded scrap of paper was small.
Obito unfolded it with a single finger. The message inside was short.
"Come to the village. I dare you, you trauma-addicted cockroach."
For a second, the world was utterly silent.
Zetsu's black half let out a low, amused murmur from the side.
"Well… that's certainly direct."
Obito didn't respond.
The chakra around his body surged violently, flaring outward in a jagged wave that distorted the air. The butterfly didn't even have time to react. His fingers closed around it in a slow, deliberate curl and with a soft, sickening crunch, he crushed it to dust in his palm.
The tiny wings disintegrated between his fingers.
The mocking message fluttered uselessly to the ground.
Then, without another word, Obito vanished in a violent swirl of warped space, leaving behind nothing but a faint echo of twisted chakra and the drifting scrap of paper.
Zetsu was alone again.
It looked down at the crushed remains in the dirt, then toward the distant direction of the battlefield, then further still, toward the village hidden behind layers of trees.
For once, even its usual playful demeanor dimmed slightly.
"Even if you're entertaining," Zetsu muttered quietly, more to itself than to anyone else, "the plan comes first."
The corners of its white half's mouth stretched unnaturally into a thin, unsettling grin.
"And you… you'll still have to die soon."
~~~
Leaf Village
The grand residence prepared for the rare visits of the Fire Daimyo was calm, the atmosphere, however, was anything but calm.
At the center of the main hall, the Fire Daimyo sat in formal posture, robes layered in rich crimson and gold. Across from him sat Hiruzen Sarutobi.
Behind the Daimyo stood two figures like living sentinels.
One wore traditional samurai armor with dark lacquered plates and a long sword resting at his side. The other was cloaked in a simple robe, face shadowed beneath its hood, yet the pressure leaking from his presence alone marked him as anything but ordinary.
With a single glance, Hiruzen had already identified them.
Two of the Five S-Rank Guardians of the Daimyo.
'So he brought out the heavyweights,' Hiruzen mused silently. 'Not for defense… but for display.'
It was a deliberate gesture.
A reminder.
The Daimyo was not without teeth.
Hiruzen kept his expression pleasant, a courteous smile settled easily on his aged face, but his eyes stayed sharp. He could already see the subtext beneath this meeting. It wasn't just a courtesy visit.
And the Daimyo confirmed it himself.
"Sarutobi," the ruler spoke casually, fingers tapping once against the armrest, "why isn't the Senju heir here yet? All the clan heads have already paid their respects. Yet the heir of the Senju clan is absent. Is there any particular reason?"
The tone was relaxed.
The meaning was not.
Hiruzen felt the question for what it truly was, unease.
The Daimyo's politeness was only skin-deep. Beneath it lay the same old fear the nobles had carried since the founding of the village.
The fear of the Senju.
Long before the Five Great Nations had fully stabilized, the daimyo system had ruled unchallenged. But when the villages were created, when shinobi became organized military powers, that balance had been shaken violently.
And at the center of that disturbance had stood one man.
Hashirama Senju.
The God of Shinobi.
The first Fire Daimyo of that era had been terrified. Not of rebellion from the Uchiha. Not of war from rival countries. But of Hashirama himself. There had always been the silent dread that the man who could reshape forests and subdue tailed beasts might one day decide that the daimyo system itself was… unnecessary.
But he never had.
Hashirama had knelt where he did not need to kneel. He had shared power when he could have seized it. And that choice had saved the nobles from extinction.
For a time there was relative peace with the nobles, then Hashirama died and then Tobirama followed.
The Senju bloodline withered. Their dominance faded into history. The Fire Daimyo line relaxed. Tsunade, the last great Senju banner, abandoned the village leadership entirely, disappearing into gambling dens and battlefields far from political thrones.
But now, Ren Senju.
An explosion where there should have been ashes.
From the moment his name entered circulation, it had not once gone quiet. Political upheaval, battlefield feats, internal purges, and whispers that painted him as both savior and monster. Unlike Tsunade, Ren did not avoid politics. He walked straight through it and unsettled everything in his wake.
The Fire Daimyo felt it.
And he did not like it.
Hiruzen, however, answered smoothly.
"Young Ren departed on a mission earlier today," he said calmly. "He was expected to return by now, but relayed that certain… unexpected complications arose. He has assured us that he will return soon. He, too, is awaiting the opportunity to meet you."
The Daimyo studied Hiruzen for a brief moment, eyes narrow but expression composed. Then he nodded once, seemingly satisfied.
'So the Senju hero isn't here after all,' he thought.
A subtle shift occurred behind his eyes as another calculation formed.
If Ren Senju was absent, then tomorrow's trial would be his stage.
Danzo Shimura would fall publicly. And the man who oversaw that fall, the symbol of order, of legal authority would be the Fire Daimyo himself. A message, not just to the village, but to every clan and every emerging power within Konoha.
The nobles still rule.
The Daimyo's posture straightened slightly, his tone shifting as the topic changed direction.
"Speaking of disturbances," he said, voice now restrained, "have you investigated the unrest in the minor villages along the outer territories?"
Hiruzen's eyes sharpened just a fraction.
"We have," he replied. "Multiple intelligence divisions are already tracking the movement of personnel and supplies. The reports suggest coordination that exceeds what those villages could manage on their own."
The Daimyo's fingers stilled.
"So it is external influence."
"That is our current conclusion."
A brief silence followed.
Hiruzen's expression did not shift, not even a tightened brow. But inside, his thoughts were different. He knew the real reason, of course he knew.
Of course he understood exactly where the unrest in the minor villages was coming from.
Only one man in the Land of Fire's political circle had both the motive and the infrastructure to stir rebellion while under supposed confinement.
Danzo Shimura.
Even bound by restrictions, the old snake had enough hidden roots burrowed underground to influence distant territories. The timing was too perfect, too convenient, coinciding precisely with the approach of his trial. Anyone with half a brain would see it.
But Hiruzen could not say that aloud, not here, not before the Daimyo.
Even if Danzo was a criminal, a traitor, and a man who had long since ceased being loyal to anything but his own twisted ideology, the fact remained:
He was still a Leaf shinobi.
If Hiruzen openly declared to the Daimyo that Danzo was behind these uprisings, then the blame would not stop at Danzo's feet. It would fall squarely on the Hokage's shoulders as well and for good reason.
Hiruzen had been the one who let Danzo roam unchecked for years, the one who allowed Root to exist, the one who turned a blind eye in the name of maintaining balance between extremes.
He should be blamed.
But not now.
If the Daimyo chose this moment to censure him, even lightly the consequences would spiral instantly. A Hokage under scrutiny was a Hokage without authority. And a Hokage without authority, during a time when Ren, Yoru, and Danzo were on the brink of clashing would leave Konoha leaderless.
And a leaderless Konoha was a ripe target for internal collapse.
Hiruzen understood this. He understood it painfully well.
He acknowledged his mistakes. He carried them like a ghost on his back every morning. Danzo's sins were not isolated, Hiruzen bore a part of every one of them. He had allowed the man to operate in shadows for too long. He had allowed Root to stain the village's foundation. He had allowed Danzo's ideology to spread like mold in dark places.
He would take responsibility for all of it.
But not before the village was safe.
Not before the transition of power was secure. Not before Ren, Yoru, and the other emerging forces finished what needed to be finished.
If those three fought Danzo, truly fought him the village would shake to its bones. Buildings would fall. Clans would be dragged into the conflict whether they wanted to or not. And if Hiruzen were weakened politically during that storm, even slightly, the entire village might burn.
He could not allow that.
So he kept his face steady and his tone untroubled. He answered questions, redirected concerns, and maintained the image of a leader who had everything under control. Even though he knew the truth.
Control was an illusion.
But it was an illusion the village needed right now.
Right now, the village needed a Hokage who did not waver.
He would take the blame when the time came. He would bear it without excuse.
He owed that much to the village.
~~~~~
{Do you think Obito would really come to the village? Anyway, the Daimyo's power would be much more than in the anime, because it just doesn't make sense how the Daimyo's, the rulers of the nations were so weak in the canon, it just doesn't sit well, so I'd be making some changes.}