"Katsumura Yota collaborated with many people in his early years, but because of his cunning, cruelty, and treacherous nature, he was eventually cast out by the scientific community."
A middle-aged man spoke solemnly inside the Konoha conference room, where Naruto sat surrounded by advisors and division heads.
Another man—dressed in a white laboratory coat and wearing a monocle—followed up calmly:
"Regarding Katsumura Yota, he actually worked with me at the beginning. His achievements in biotechnology are, admittedly, remarkable."
"When he cooperated with me, he remained well-behaved. I was aware of his reputation and took precautions. Later, our collaboration ended due to a break in the funding chain… and he ultimately absconded with a sum of my money."
The man's voice carried a touch of helplessness. Even with all his preparations, he had still suffered a loss. Afterwards, when Yota found himself at rock bottom, he joined the Umbrella Organization, which ironically became a turning point for him.
"He once researched Kekkei Genkai with the rogue ninja Hiruko, which already made him an extremely dangerous and deranged biologist."
"The company on the market—Yota Biotech—I never imagined it was his."
In truth, there were countless things demanding attention across the Ninja World. Few cared about a seemingly insignificant company founded by an obscure scientist.
There were simply too many merchants in the world today.
And among commercial groups, Yota Biotech was merely average.
The real giants were the enterprises under Umbrella, operating almost like state-owned megacorporations—managing commerce, stabilizing prices, guiding industrial development, and maintaining overall market balance.
Naruto, seated at the head of the table, suddenly heard a familiar name.
Hiruko…? Didn't he disappear quietly back then?
A minor figure, barely worth remembering.
Naruto swept his gaze across the room, his expression carrying the unmistakable authority of the Seventh Hokage.
"What do you believe we should do with a company as cancerous as this?"
The room exchanged tense glances before someone stood up:
"Although Yota Biotech appears to provide convenience to many, behind the scenes it harms countless lives—conducting inhumane experiments. I propose we eradicate it entirely."
"No," another replied steadily. "We should monitor it and use it to draw out Kara. Compared to the whole organization, Yota Biotech is just a tiny ant."
"Monitoring them will only alert the enemy," someone countered sharply. "Better to eliminate them at once. Every moment they remain active means another person could be harmed."
The room fell silent.
He was right—prolonged hesitation only bred more casualties.
Shikamaru finally spoke, tapping his finger thoughtfully against the table:
"Katsumura Yota himself isn't the real threat. The key is forcing the people behind him to show themselves. If we push him hard enough, he'll inevitably call for support. He won't abandon a business he's spent years building."
"Once other Kara members appear, we can follow the trail back to their base and confront Ōtsutsuki Isshiki, who remains rooted somewhere in our world."
"But this requires exceptional reconnaissance and anti-reconnaissance skills."
"And overwhelming combat power—enough to guarantee a safe retreat once we find their nest."
"With our capabilities, hiding from ordinary shinobi won't be a problem. But hiding from Ōtsutsuki Isshiki… that's another matter entirely."
He proceeded to outline a concrete, step-by-step operational plan.
Everyone nodded. It was clear, comprehensive, and far stronger than the earlier scattered suggestions.
The truth was, they could devise plans like this—but energy needed to remain focused. Compared to Kara, now scurrying like rats, the true pressure came from the unknown depths of the Ōtsutsuki Clan.
Anything that threatened the world's stability had to be crushed swiftly.
"This is simple," a confident voice declared. "Leave it to me. With these eyes, nothing escapes my sight. In terms of reconnaissance and raw strength, there are few in the organization who can match me."
It was Neji.
The current Neji radiated conviction—his former youthful softness gone entirely.
His power had reached the Super Kage class.
Naruto had even consulted Ōtsutsuki Kaguya, progenitor of the Byakugan, regarding Neji's growth.
His strength had developed steadily—and astonishingly.
"Leave it to me. I think I'm the most suitable for this mission."
A firm, resolute voice echoed through the room.
It was Sasuke. Neji's brows knit together slightly.
Sasuke wasn't trying to compete with Neji this time—far from it. The mission involved Kara's hidden core and the unknown depths of the Ōtsutsuki Clan. No one knew the true extent of their power, but it was certainly not something a mere Super Kage-level shinobi could handle alone. Sasuke volunteered out of caution, not pride.
He and Neji had grown up together, forming a camaraderie rooted in shared battles and rivalries—even if their bond could never match his with Naruto.
"What are you two arguing about?"
A calm yet majestic voice drifted from the doorway.
Everyone turned toward it instinctively. The conference room was sealed to unauthorized personnel; only those of the highest clearance could step inside without prior notice.
At the entrance stood two young men—figures who needed no introduction.
Uchiha Madara and Senju Hashirama.
Although all high-level personnel received notifications of scheduled meetings, attendance was based on rank and urgency. Only the highest category meetings—the Red-Level sessions—demanded absolute attendance. This meeting wasn't one of them.
Within Umbrella, all meetings were divided into four tiers:
White (Ordinary) → Yellow (Strategic) → Red (Critical) → Black (Catastrophic).
Red was already the highest practical tier. Black was an emergency category that had not been activated for years.
Madara almost never attended standard conferences. Hashirama had never attended even once. At most, Madara occasionally listened without speaking.
Yet today, he had spoken first.
And the voice earlier belonged unmistakably to him.
Madara stepped inside with the composed arrogance of a man who had faced entire battlefields alone.
"After all these years, my body is practically rusting," he said with a faint smirk. "Why not leave this mission to me? I doubt anyone here is more suitable."
The air seemed to tighten around him. His presence alone carried an oppressive weight—immense, overwhelming, and unmistakably that of a legend.
The room exchanged looks. It was true—Madara's strength and experience in dealing with elusive enemies were unparalleled.
Naruto held Madara's gaze for several quiet seconds before finally speaking.
"…Alright."
He could see through Madara's excuse instantly. Madara wasn't acting out of boredom or "rust."
He was interested—deeply interested—in Ōtsutsuki Isshiki.
Naruto knew the truth:
Madara had spent the past few years doing nothing but refining himself. His strength had only grown sharper, harder, more terrifying.
Rust? Impossible.
He was steel—tempered to the point of legend.