"How spectacular."
Staring at the vast, pitch-black cavern before him, Orochimaru, who had just replaced his massive lightning serpent with a smaller one, reached out to touch the rough surface of the cave wall.
The guards around him studied their surroundings in awe, each silently wondering how many secrets could be hidden in a cavern that warranted the personal visit of none other than the Director of Konoha's Research Division—one of the legendary Sannin himself.
It had been many years since Uchiha Madara departed for the Pure Land. With Yōwan having aligned himself with Isshiki and other factors at play, this once-secret base that had sustained Madara's fragile existence now contained none of the wealth or resources he had left behind.
All that remained for Orochimaru to study were a few shriveled White Zetsu corpses and faint traces of Madara's life that had once lingered here.
"Where's Aburame Tatsuma, the one who discovered this place?"
Orochimaru asked a Konoha shinobi, his tone tinged with interest.
The man stiffened, then quickly replied, "He found some suspicious tracks and went after them to investigate."
"I see." Orochimaru nodded slightly, then crouched down to examine one of the withered White Zetsu corpses on the ground. His snake-like eyes gleamed as though his thoughts had slithered somewhere far away.
...
Meanwhile, Black Zetsu was on the run—clutching those precious Rinnegan eyes as he fled through the wilderness, pursued relentlessly by Aburame Tatsuma.
"What a troublesome man."
He muttered bitterly, glaring at the faint trails of kikaichū insects that occasionally emerged behind him.
He was furious—furious that he had lost his last hiding place, and even more enraged that this insignificant insect of a shinobi dared to chase him so persistently.
He had already severed ties with the White Zetsu army. Even Madara's corpse had been handed over to those people. So why, why was this sunglasses-wearing fool still on his trail like a curse that wouldn't fade?
What infuriated him most was that no matter where he ran, the man always managed to find him.
If he hid underground, the insects could burrow after him.
If he dove into water, the insects could swim.
Even when he possessed a bird and took to the skies, the enemy unleashed massive flying insects that could swallow his host whole.
Created hastily as an imperfect being by Kaguya in her moment of crisis, Black Zetsu lacked the divine powers of Hagoromo and Hamura. Other than fleeing and hiding, he had no effective means of counterattack.
He could only keep running, relying on prayer—a foolish, desperate form of hope—to avoid Aburame Tatsuma's pursuit.
But something felt wrong.
He could tell the distance between them was shrinking; sometimes, he could even hear that damnable buzzing sound drawing closer.
Soon, however, the scenery around him began to change.
As he fled, the dense forest gave way to sparse vegetation. The rich greens turned to hues of yellow—the terrain signaling that he had crossed from the Land of Grass into the borders of the Land of Wind.
Before long, he encountered two unlucky Sunagakure shinobi on border patrol.
Black Zetsu's dark eyes glimmered with excitement. Finally, suitable vessels! Just as he began sinking into the sand to seize the opportunity, a kunai sliced through the air, hurtling straight toward him.
A flash of yellow followed. Part of his body was severed cleanly by that light.
"Who?!"
He shouted instinctively—and in that instant, the distinctive attack style told him exactly who it was.
Not good. It was Namikaze Minato!
Without looking back, Black Zetsu abandoned his severed fragment and bolted in the opposite direction.
Damn it all! That "Yellow Flash" of Konoha possessed sealing jutsu from the Uzumaki clan—jutsu that rendered all of Zetsu's shapeshifting and intangibility useless. Sealing arts were the one thing he truly feared.
"Still trying to run?"
Minato's sharp gaze narrowed. He hadn't expected that strange black mass to retain mobility after taking such a direct hit.
But years of combat experience took over. Without hesitation, he unleashed another volley of Flying Thunder God kunai, marking Black Zetsu's escape path.
And, just as Minato predicted, his opponent reappeared right there.
Minato extended his right hand and pressed his palm against Zetsu's body.
The moment of contact sent an indescribable sensation through him—something slick, cold, and disturbingly elastic.
It was... disgusting.
And his Flying Thunder God seal—
The seal he had placed seemed to vanish into Zetsu's form. When Minato tried to sense it, he found nothing.
This thing was strange.
"That's... the Yellow Flash?!"
The two Sunagakure patrolmen finally realized who had intervened.
"Quick, go! Pretend you didn't see anything!" one of them hissed.
After all, their recent cooperation with Konoha had shown them what "proper supply lines" looked like.
To put it bluntly, the grain stores of Sunagakure had been pitifully empty since the village's founding—barely enough to feed a rat.
But after signing the humiliating, one-sided treaty with Konoha, their warehouses had suddenly been filled to the brim.
Not out of charity—oh no. The Konoha troops stationed there simply couldn't stomach Sunagakure's local rations. So the Leaf sent entire shipments of food to sustain their own people, which in turn filled Suna's storerooms as well.
And so, the once-proud shinobi of the desert had resigned themselves to the situation. Now, many secretly hoped Konoha would just annex Sunagakure outright—so they could finally call themselves true sons of the Leaf.