"He—when did he get here!?" Gaara blurted, staring at the ghostly masked figure floating in the cave ceiling's breach.
"That man is the key," Kenya said, taking a step forward. "Gaara, can you move?"
"Yes." Gaara pushed himself up, grimacing, reluctant but determined.
"The two who attacked you out there — you handle them. This one I will deal with. If you stay here, it will stop me from killing him outright." Kenya paused, then added, voice gentle yet iron: "Move."
Gaara's eyes narrowed. With a sweep of his hand the rocks beneath his feet loosened into sand. The sand rose, swirling into a cloud that carried him forward like a flying carpet.
"Teacher—be careful!" Gaara called, urging the sand to rush after the art duo.
From nowhere, a familiar voice threaded through the dust, cold and amused. Obito — Madara's voice within him — sighed: "Enviable, in a way. Your Sharingan is something else now, but what you've done here isn't exactly Sharingan technique. If you'd had this back then, you could have drawn the Three-Tails out and saved Rin without her needing to rush into Kakashi's Chidori."
Time folded back for a moment: "Seven years since we last met," Obito murmured. "How fast things move."
Kenya didn't bother answering the rhetorical nostalgia. A slight smile crossed her face. "I prefer being stealthy."
Obito's tone turned clinical. "To accomplish major goals, disguise is necessary — much as you spent years hiding as 'Aizen' in Sunagakure."
"Ha." Kenya let the word fall, amusement thin. The cave trembled as her spiritual pressure flared, dark and rolling like an approaching storm. The mountain itself seemed to bend beneath that force; animals on the slopes fell unconscious, eyes rolling in their heads.
Gaara, sweeping his sand to pursue Deidara and Sasori, felt the surge of pressure and froze. He turned back, incredulous. "Teacher… have you reached this level?"
A thunderous blast erupted from the sky. The head that had pivoted jerked back again. A column of lightning—over a hundred meters tall—struck the mountain, burning and splitting rock. For ten seconds the flash hammered the summit. When the light faded the upper mountain had been razed.
At the peak, Kenya and Obito faced one another amid the ruin.
Obito's voice, tight behind his mask: "That power—can it rival a Tailed Beast Bomb?"
The face behind the mask was serious. Obito's Mangekyō was his salvation; without Kamui he knew he would already be dead. Kenya's speed and destructive precision were frightening.
Kenya's tone was level, not flattering: "Your Mangekyō is formidable. For escape, it is peerless."
Obito's eyes narrowed. "Then you must have your reasons for fighting me now. Why risk that? Come — make a deal."
Kenya hesitated mid-motion; Kyōka Suigetsu hung over her hand but did not complete its release.
"Go on," Obito said. "Your primary interest right now must be Uchiha Sasuke. Am I right?"
That single suggestion snapped Kenya's attention into sharp focus; she turned fully toward him. If Obito's earlier words had piqued curiosity, this spelled something she could not ignore.
"Is that your intelligence, or did Akatsuki intercept it?" Kenya asked, voice cool.
Obito did not answer the mockery; he continued: "I know Sasuke's situation. Few possess those eyes. I propose an exchange: Sasuke and Itachi — for Konoha's Nine-Tails. You don't need Kurama, do you? Hand them to me. We trade."
Kenya's grin was slow and humorless. "A deal only works between equals. Right now I haven't seen that equality from you."
"What you mean," Obito said, "is that you could kill me and take Sasuke by force."
Obito's body blurred, a phantom in the air. As they faced each other, his remaining eye closed in concentration. He trusted Kamui; this made him bold.
Kenya looked at the closing eye and at the man who wore Madara's legend like armor. The thought that flickered through her mind—could she rip Obito apart under continuous Hōgyoku-fueled assault for five minutes?—passed like a test and was rejected. Sasuke was the priority now.
She let the sword hang at her side. "A trade," she said at last. "You hand me Sasuke. Not because you can bargain, but because you have something I need in exchange. Tell me exactly what you want, Obito."
Obito's single visible eye studied her. The wind howled over the shredded peak. Below, the world in miniature — the cave, Gaara, the fleeing art duo — all spun outward from this axis of two men who could change eras.
"Think carefully," Obito murmured. "I can't stay long."
Kenya's expression was unreadable. The negotiation had begun. Both sides had too much at stake to be careless.