Not long after, Shuryu descended with Orochimaru standing on his back.
"Oh? You drove off the enemy so quickly and even brought back spoils."
Orochimaru's golden eyes narrowed, the hint of a smile curling at his lips. "Gen, your strength now may not be any less than mine. Truly, a young hero."
Uchiha Gen gave a faint smile. "The waves of the younger generation push the older forward. The student surpasses the master, and a great teacher produces great disciples. Sensei, shouldn't you be happy?"
Orochimaru chuckled, low and hoarse. "Happy is happy… but if a disciple surpasses me, it is rather embarrassing for the teacher. Seems I'll need to devote more time to improving myself."
Gen simply smiled again and said no more. With a fluid movement, he vaulted onto Shuryu's scaled back.
"Shuryu, absorb the flames below, then take us to the surface of the lake."
"Yes, Master."
Shuryu lowered himself on a cloud of crimson fire until he hovered above the sea of burning forest.
At that height, the heat wasn't unbearable. Opening his great maw, he began to swallow flames. The verdant trees below had already become towers of fire, and rivers of orange-red flame poured into him as if the sea itself were flowing home.
"Tsk tsk… such a strange elemental creature," Orochimaru muttered, eyes gleaming. "I'd love to dissect and study it."
Shuryu let out a displeased rumble, shaking his body enough to make Orochimaru shift his balance.
"Heh… don't mind me," Orochimaru said smoothly.
"Hmph!"
Shuryu snorted and steadied his flight.
He continued until the burning forest was devoured to the last flicker, leaving only blackened trees and thin plumes of smoke. Then he banked toward the lake, wings of flame trailing sparks, and descended to the center of Crimson Moon Lake.
Gen leapt lightly to the ground, crouched, and picked up the corpse of a fallen White Zetsu.
"A pity it's dead," Orochimaru observed. "It would have been… entertaining if it lived."
"Even dead, it has its uses."
Gen pulled a sealing scroll from his pouch and sealed the body away. Sealing scrolls were expensive, their inner space limited, but it was worth the cost for something this unusual.
Afterward, he remounted Shuryu, and together they turned back toward Konoha's camp.
Along the way, Gen examined the Uchiha war fan. When the camp came into view, he finally spoke.
"Sensei, I'll deliver the report to Konoha myself this time. It's also a good chance to return this war fan to the clan."
He didn't trust anyone else to transport such a priceless heirloom. If word spread to the Uchiha, they would send a powerful escort, but for now, it was better to handle it quietly.
Originally, Gen had thought to experiment and perhaps to transplant the war fan's ability to deflect ninjutsu into Shizukamaru. But after a brief study, he abandoned the idea.
Not only did the ability not match Shizukamaru's slender blade, but the war fan itself bore Madara's mark.
A hidden sealing had been placed on it as an invisible lock. Only Uchiha Madara could fully unleash the fan's power.
Obito had only deflected a Rasengan with it. In Madara's hands, it could repel Tailed Beast Balls and even conjure chakra shields.
The arrogance of Madara had turned a clan treasure into a semi-exclusive weapon. Breaking that seal would take immense effort, and for what? Gen already had more than enough weapons. Better to return it to the clan and gain prestige.
Even if Orochimaru claimed some of the credit, the rest would still benefit him.
"Very well," Orochimaru agreed. "But return quickly. There are still many experiments to conduct at the research base."
"No problem," Gen said. "But I'll go back in two days."
"Oh? Why delay?"
"In two days, the Uchiha Clan holds its monthly clan meeting."
Understanding dawned in Orochimaru's eyes. He chuckled, soft and sinister. "You sly fox… calculating as ever."
Gen only smiled faintly. "I simply wish to maximize benefits."
Orochimaru thought otherwise, but he didn't argue.
Far away, in the Mizukage's lounge within Hidden Mist Village, a spatial vortex spun open. Obito stepped out, followed by Black Zetsu and White Zetsu.
"Obito," Black Zetsu growled, "not only did you fail, but you lost Madara's war fan."
Obito sat casually on the bed, voice indifferent. "So what if I lost it? What will you do?"
The act made Black Zetsu seethe internally. Just a pawn's pawn, yet so arrogant!
White Zetsu interjected quickly, "Obito must have a deeper plan, right? Tobi thinks so!"
Black Zetsu swallowed his irritation and said flatly, "Your reasoning had better be convincing."
"I wanted to extend goodwill to Uchiha Gen. Consider the fan… a gesture," Obito said. "Though, I admit, the battle was not simple."
That caught their attention.
Obito explained: "Gen commands Shuryu, a flame dragon not of flesh or blood. More like living fire with a will of its own. And his Kusanagi, Shizukamaru, has also awakened. It fights on its own, striking from every angle. It even spoke. He used it to feign weakness, dispel my genjutsu, and nearly caught me."
Even Black Zetsu was shaken. "Bestowing life to sword and flame… this resembles Yang Release. And yet, the Uchiha are masters of Yin Release, not Yang. Such potential…"
Tobi whistled. "So he can give self-awareness to elements and weapons? That's terrifying. Against most ninja, they'd die before finishing a hand sign."
"Exactly," Obito said. "That's why I'd rather recruit him than fight him. But if not…" His eyes glimmered red. "…then I'll make Hidden Mist target him directly. Revenge, and a test."
Two days later, Uchiha Gen left the battlefield.
This time, he didn't need Shuryu as he used the Flying Thunder God Technique.
In a blink, the endless miles shrank. If not for chakra limits, he could have gone straight from blood-soaked battlefield to the hot springs of home.
And that was exactly what he did, in his own way.
Before returning to Konoha, he slipped into a nearby town. Orochimaru believed the round trip would take days by flight. With the extra time, why not relax?
He bathed in hot springs, had a massage, drank sake, even enjoyed a foot soak. After a full day of leisure, he finally returned to Konoha at dusk.
At the village gates, he put on a performance with his dusty clothes, bloodshot eyes, and weary posture.
The crying child gets the milk. The exhausted shinobi wins sympathy.
Without this act, who would know how hard he worked?
In this world, life was theater. When it was time to perform, one must perform well.
With his frontline pass, Gen entered the village smoothly, heading first to the Hokage Building to deliver his report. The clan meeting could wait. Public duty came first after all, one must never give critics a chance to find fault.