"Pu-chuu?"
Botamon let out a soft, muddled chirp.
It blinked its large yellow eyes and looked at the only person standing before it—Uchiha Anlan.
Their gazes met.
The little creature wobbled its round body slightly, as if confirming something.
Then Botamon bounced lightly and let out a clearer cry filled with dependence and delight.
"Pu-chuu~"
Before Anlan could react, the small round creature moved.
Its pitch-black spherical body rolled upward along Anlan's leg like a living bead of obsidian with a will of its own.
"Shuu—shuu—shuu—"
The fabric of his clothes wrinkled slightly as it climbed, leaving behind a faint trail of coolness.
Before Anlan could adjust his posture, he felt a small weight settle on his shoulder.
Botamon had successfully reached the summit.
It crouched comfortably on his shoulder armor, its round body rising and falling with satisfaction after this tiny "achievement."
Then it pressed its smooth, cool head—like cold jade wrapped in velvet—against the side of Anlan's face with complete affection.
Cool.
Smooth.
A strangely pure sensation spread instantly across his skin.
"Pu-chuu~"
It chirped again, almost whispering beside his ear.
Its warm breath carried pure dependence and joy.
As if confirming that this place—and this human—was exactly where it belonged.
The little creature gently rubbed its head against him, its yellow eyes narrowing happily.
Its entire body radiated a simple message.
I like being beside you.
As expected of my Sharingan's ocular power… emotional resonance.
Still… direct domination works better.
Looks like I'm one of the chosen children too.
Feeling Botamon's trust and happiness on his shoulder, Anlan tilted his head slightly and met those round yellow eyes.
The little creature didn't shy away.
It remained pressed against him affectionately, its gaze pure and satisfied.
Something softened inside Anlan.
He lifted the small black creature from his shoulder and held it in his palm.
Then he lowered his head—
And buried his face deep into Botamon's jelly-like, velvet-soft body.
He inhaled deeply.
There was no scent.
Only an indescribably comfortable texture—like warm clouds beneath sunlight.
"Pu-chuu~! Pu-chuu-chuu!"
Instead of being startled, Botamon seemed delighted by the affection.
It bounced happily twice in his palm, chirping even more excitedly.
Then it lifted its smooth little head and gently rubbed against the tip of Anlan's nose.
At that moment—
A small puff of smoke burst beside him.
Space rippled faintly.
The black ninja cat returned from its mission, leaping gracefully out of the summoning smoke.
Its feline eyes instinctively searched for its young master.
When it found Anlan—
And saw what he was doing—
The entire cat froze.
The calm, calculating Uchiha Anlan…
The man who had summoned thunder from the heavens the previous night and judged the battlefield…
Was now holding a round, unknown black creature—
With his face buried in it—
In pure enjoyment.
Sniffing it.
You have ninja cats to pet and you choose to sniff THAT thing?!
Young Master, no!!
The black cat screamed internally.
Anlan calmly raised his head.
Without the slightest embarrassment, he placed the happily chirping Botamon back onto his left shoulder.
The little creature clearly liked that spot.
It immediately leaned against his neck and settled comfortably there, its big eyes curiously turning toward the suddenly appearing ninja cat.
Only then did Anlan look toward the cat still frozen in place.
"This is Botamon," he said calmly.
"A new member."
The police chief's whiskers twitched slightly.
Its cat eyes slowly shifted between Anlan's calm expression and the round black creature called Botamon.
"Young Master… is this some kind of new summoning beast?"
"…Or perhaps a technique you developed?"
It simply couldn't associate the harmless-looking little black sphere with anything known in the ninja world.
Anlan didn't answer directly.
Instead, he extended his index finger and lightly tapped Botamon's smooth head.
"Pu-chuu~"
Botamon chirped happily and rubbed against his finger.
Its position in the household had clearly been confirmed.
"Understood, meow."
The black cat bowed its head slightly.
But it couldn't resist sneaking another glance at the strange little creature.
"Pu-chuu?"
Botamon chirped toward it with friendly curiosity.
"…Meow."
The ninja cat instinctively replied.
The awkward cross-species greeting made the atmosphere slightly strange.
Anlan's lips curved faintly before returning to their usual calm.
He sat down on the couch again and returned to business.
"How is the cleanup in Infinite City?"
Botamon listened vaguely from his shoulder, still clinging to him affectionately.
The black cat forced itself to stop staring at the creature and began its report.
"All Mist prisoners have been secured."
"The noble assets have been fully inventoried."
"The situation inside the city has been stabilized."
"What remains is how the Mist forces outside—and the other villages—will respond."
"Good," Anlan said calmly.
"I'll meet Fuguki Suikazan and Kisame Hoshigaki later."
"Keep them alive."
"And monitor the Inabi squad outside the city."
"No mistakes."
"The underground space in the western district should begin reconstruction."
"Use the best materials."
"That place will become our true foundation."
"Yes, Young Master."
The black cat accepted the order solemnly and vanished in another puff of summoning smoke.
Anlan watched the fading spatial ripple where it disappeared.
His thoughts drifted.
The Summoning Technique was essentially a form of space-time ninjutsu.
In terms of capability, it rivaled the ninja world's teleportation arrays.
Humans could be transported.
Animals could be transported.
The barrier to learning it was relatively low.
Yet its true principles remained hidden—like trying to see through frosted glass.
Anlan had studied it extensively before.
He had hoped to use the summoning technique as a key to unlock deeper space-time abilities.
There had been progress.
But the true core—the essence of coordinate anchoring and spatial folding—remained elusive.
Only after acquiring the teleportation spell Dimensional Move from the world of Overlord did things change.
Combining it with the Sharingan gave birth to a unique Uchiha ocular ability—
Space Jump.
From there, the concept of a teleportation array began to take shape.
The vast underground complex currently being constructed beneath the western district was the first step.
A hidden teleportation node completely under Uchiha control.
Once completed—
He would bring every Uchiha, young and old, from Konoha to this place.
After that—
The clan would have no more worries.
No matter whether Konoha won or lost its wars.
Even if the village collapsed.
Even if the entire population died.
It wouldn't matter.
Of course—
That was merely the worst-case scenario.
Given Konoha's strength and the balance among the great nations, the likely outcome would simply be mutual losses before everything returned to normal.
"Pu-chuu?"
A soft chirp interrupted Anlan's thoughts.
Botamon nudged his neck gently with its round body.
Like a drop of cool dew trying to get his attention.
Anlan smiled and patted the little creature.
Warm affection—and Sharingan ocular power—flowed through their connection.
"Pu-chuu~"
Botamon's eyes curved into happy crescents.
Relaxed by the nourishing energy, it snuggled into the crook of Anlan's neck and quickly fell asleep.
Clearly—
Another energy-hungry little companion.
Far from Infinite City—
Zabuza Momochi stood alone on a hillside overlooking the Mist encampment.
The Executioner's Blade rested across his back.
According to his agreement with Fuguki Suikazan, news should have arrived by morning regardless of the outcome.
Yet the sun had already risen—
And not a single Mist shinobi had returned.
He waited.
Time crawled forward.
Each passing minute eroded his patience.
The silence itself carried the worst possible message.
A trap…
Damn.
A cold sense of foreboding wrapped around his heart like a venomous snake.
He slowly turned his head.
In the distance lay the battered Konoha eastern army encampment.
The Akimichi commander was still organizing desperate defenses.
But Zabuza could smell the exhaustion.
And despair.
They were trapped prey.
Waiting for the blade.
But even a cornered turtle could still bite.
Zabuza was not Suikazan.
He was not blinded by greed.
He understood survival under the Bloody Mist's rules.
Loot meant nothing if the main assault had failed.
Even maintaining the siege here would not save him from blame.
The Mizukage demanded results.
Victory—
Or blood.
Enough blood to justify defeat.
Zabuza decided he could not wait any longer.
Whether Suikazan lived or died—
Whether Infinite City had fallen or not—
Was no longer his concern.
He would secure his own victory.
He grasped the hilt of the Executioner's Blade and took one final look toward Infinite City.
Then turned away.
He stepped to the front lines and raised the Executioner's Blade.
Its tip pointed toward the Konoha camp.
"All forces."
"Advance."
"Leave no survivors."
The order was simple.
Direct.
Cruel.
The Killing Mist spread again.
A tide of death surged forward.
The eastern Konoha forces were quickly swallowed by ninjutsu and flashing blades.
Later—
Zabuza walked through the battlefield.
His Executioner's Blade dripped with blood.
Corpses lay everywhere.
Each step splashed softly through thick pools of crimson.
Broken bodies of Konoha shinobi lay scattered across the ground.
Their cries had long faded.
Only faint dying groans lingered in the cold morning air.
The blade fell once more—
Severing a weakly raised arm.
Ending the last whimper.
Zabuza's face remained expressionless.
As if clearing obstacles rather than ending lives.
His eyes were as cold as the deep sea.
He would use the blood of these hundreds of Konoha shinobi—
As the answer for the village.
"Messenger."
A Mist shinobi appeared instantly and knelt.
"Report to the village immediately."
"The main eastern commander, Fuguki Suikazan, led 1,500 shinobi to attack Infinite City."
"There has been no contact."
"They are likely… completely wiped out."
"My forces have eliminated the eastern Konoha army."
"We request immediate strategic guidance and reinforcements."
The message crossed the sea.
Eventually—
It reached the desk of the Third Mizukage in Kirigakure.
The room was cold.
The air felt frozen.
As the Mizukage read the report—
The shadow behind him moved.
It twisted.
Stretched.
And formed a dark humanoid silhouette.
Black Zetsu.
After reporting to Uchiha Madara, it had returned to monitor the situation.
After a brief conversation—
Kirigakure made its decision.
The remaining four thousand Mist shinobi—
Including the Seven Ninja Swordsmen and the Six-Tails Jinchūriki—
Were mobilized.
Every last one of them.
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