Time skip.
A few more weeks.
Timeline-wise, this would be roughly four months after Seijuro became the host for the Ten-Tails. Speaking of which, his firstborn would be here soon. He didn't know it yet, but the second he set foot inside Konoha, that timer would begin ticking down.
And the fucking balance of the world would be tipped once more. Seijuro wasn't human anymore. He was 100% Otsutsuki, which meant his ass could be fed to a Divine Tree—and it'd probably produce the best Chakra Fruit any Otsutsuki had ever tasted in their entire miserable life.
But... it wasn't like they could beat him. The only one who could, right now, currently couldn't even see Seijuro... like, at all. As if some kind of magical hand was blocking his sight and making sure he didn't gank Seijuro for simply breathing.
Speaking of which, that same magical hand was the reason Earth wasn't currently being invaded by the entire Otsutsuki clan—present and future—at the exact same time.
Yes... Seijuro had such a bounty on his head.
Anyway, currently, his clone was in the middle of a meeting. He had fully developed and mastered the Pseudo-Karma and was willing to share it with his village.
Though he could probably mass-produce this shit, he was only going to make five Karma Seals. Gotta keep some semblance of balance. The illusion of choice was truly powerful.
The red-robed representatives of the Uzumaki, the pale-eyed Hyuga, the stoic Iburi, the feral Kaguya, the tattooed Hoshigaki, the mist-veiled Yuki, the blood-marked Chinoike, and even the rarely seen Kurama, Fūma, Kagerō, and Tsukigakure nomads sat in anticipation.
He stood there, watching all of them. It was about time he revealed his little bag of treats, but first, he needed to do some light little fuckery.
He raised a hand, and silence fell like a guillotine.
"Let me introduce to you all... the result of three years of research, fragments of forbidden sealing arts, and a tiny, tiny bit of stolen divine fire."
He snapped his fingers—and five sealing scrolls hovered before him, covered in swirling black ink shaped like spiraling tomoe. Chakra hummed from them. Vile. Vast. Alive.
"These are Pseudo-Karma Seals. Constructed using extracted chakra fragments from the Biju. There are five of them."
Some elders murmured. One nearly gasped. Another already looked ready to salivate.
Aizen continued, his tone half-teacher, half-devil-with-a-halo:
"Each seal will grant the bearer a wellspring of chakra equivalent to the Nine-Tails. It regenerates over time, adapts to the host, and has two modes:
Stage One – grants access to four-tails' worth of chakra and a passive buff to physical abilities.
Version Two – a full cloak, monstrous enhancements, regeneration, even limited biju-like avatar projection. Power enough to raze battlefields."
A Hyuga elder frowned.
"Why were these not distributed to the clan heads already?"
Aizen gave the kind of smile that should have belonged to a wolf.
"Because... I'm not handing these out like candy at a shrine festival. Power given is rarely respected. Power earned? That reshapes nations."
He tapped the table with a single finger.
"In two years' time, the strongest five jounin will be selected through combat. They will be awarded these seals."
He had a smile on his face as he said all that, as if he wasn't offering all these nations a chance to run it back—while knowing how much they desperately wanted to.
Plus, this was the chance they all craved. The chance they all wanted. For those who didn't get a Biju, this was a golden opportunity like no other.
He would open his mouth and say:
"You wanted Biju. Here's something better. A Biju that doesn't talk back."
Some laughter. Some tight fists. But everyone was listening now.
One Kaguya elder, his face war-marked with bone paint, leaned forward.
"What's the price, Aizen?"
Aizen's smile softened, oddly kind.
"Survival. Excellence. Loyalty to the village above clan. That's all."
Then colder:
"Let's not become Konoha 2.0, shall we?"
A silence again. This one respectful.
He turned on his heel.
"You have two years. Train your warriors. Sharpen your blades. This village will not be known for potential—but for power."
He left the room, letting the storm he had summoned fester and grow in the hearts of every clan elder behind him.
Because power, after all, was the truest form of diplomacy.
And manipulating clan leaders was quite easy—just dangle power in front of them and wait for their human greed to flare up. Yes, he used human greed for all of his scenarios because human greed was the only constant that remained throughout the course of history.
The reason for so many wars and all that shit—if you looked closely—could all be tied down to human greed. To people wanting more, envying what someone else had and wanting that shit for themselves. Like the fertile land of the Land of Fire.
Even if everyone's land was fertile, human greed would find a way to want something the other had that they didn't.
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