---
Black Zetsu listened to the world.
Not with ears, nor eyes, but through the quiet tremors of fate itself—the subtle misalignments that told him when history had deviated from its proper course.
And it had.
Again.
Deep beneath the Land of Fire, in a cavern where roots older than nations strangled the stone, Black Zetsu peeled himself free from the earth like a thought refusing to stay buried. His pale half smiled faintly; his darker half remained silent, brooding.
"The Chinoike Clan …" he murmured.
Once, they were meant to be ashes scattered to the wind. A disposable pawn. A convenient scapegoat. A tool to fracture bloodlines and drive wedges where harmony threatened to grow.
Now?
Now they were settled. Recognized. Sheltered by the Fire Daimyō's decree. Planted deliberately between the Uchiha Clan the Hagoromo Clan like a living blade.
The irony tasted bitter.
---
The Original Design
Black Zetsu had been patient.
For centuries, he had watched the descendants of his brothers Hagoromo Ōtsutsuki and Hamura Ōtsutsuki entangle themselves in alliances, grudges, and cycles of war. The Land of Fire—fertile, central, stubbornly resilient—had always been the greatest obstacle to his design.
Too many descendants.
Too much unity.
Too much potential.
So the first step had been separation.
Remove the Hagoromo Clan from the Land of Fire.
Not by force—that invited resistance.
Not by open war—that forged heroes.
But by betrayal.
---
The Lightning Country Gambit
The previous Lightning Daimyō had been weak in all the ways that mattered.
Indecisive.
Sentimental.
Surrounded by ambitious nobles.
And most importantly—
He trusted his first wife.
A woman of sharp ambition and colder cruelty, she had been everything Black Zetsu required. Her faction of nobles—greedy, paranoid, hungry for relevance—were the perfect knives.
"They were never loyal," Black Zetsu mused softly. "Only useful."
Through whispered counsel and carefully planted fears, he had shaped them into political puppets. Their goal aligned neatly with his own: weaken the Land of Fire, fracture its great clans, and elevate the Lightning Country as the dominant power.
The Hagoromo Clan had been the key.
Bearers of relics that still resonated with the echo of the Sage of Six Paths himself:
Bashōsen,The fan that bent elements
Benihisago,The gourd that devoured souls
Kohaku no Jōhei,The sealing pot
Kōkinjō, The binding rope
Shichiseiken, The sword of judgment
Symbols. Weapons. Legacies.
If the Hagoromo Clan could be turned against the Land of Fire—if they could be made to flee—it would shatter the balance.
And so, the plan had been elegant.
---
The Kidnapping That Wasn't
Two underworld bounty hunters.
No names worth remembering.
They had been promised wealth and protection beyond imagining. Their task was simple:
Kidnap Daiki Hagoromo, the second son of Gyoza Hagoromo.
Kill him quietly.
Leave evidence pointing unmistakably toward the Land of Fire.
A child's death would ignite rage.
Rage would demand retribution.
Retribution would force exile.
The Hagoromo Clan would have no choice.
Black Zetsu had already envisioned it—their departure, the crumbling of alliances, the Lightning Country swelling with stolen strength.
But fate, as it so often did lately, had twisted.
---
The First Failure
The Lightning Daimyō had died too soon.
Not by enemy hands.
But by his own wife's.
"She was impatient," Black Zetsu said, a note of irritation seeping through his voice.
The first wife believed herself betrayed. Convinced the Daimyō favored the children of his second wife. Convinced he sought diplomacy when she craved conquest.
Her faction feared irrelevance.
So they struck first.
The assassination had been messy.
Emotional. Inelegant.
And worse—
It created variables.
In the chaos, the first wife and her noble faction attempted to shift blame onto the second wife and her clan.
The Chinoike Clan.
Rebels.
Traitors.
Conspirators.
It was supposed to work.
It should have worked.
---
The Second Failure
Someone talked.
Someone leaked sealed correspondence, financial ledgers, assassination orders.
The Fire Daimyō learned the truth.
The Lightning Country convulsed as the conspiracy unraveled. Nobles screamed innocence. Alliances fractured overnight.
And the first wife?
Executed.
Her faction followed—publicly, decisively, without mercy.
Black Zetsu's fingers curled slowly.
"All my careful threads… severed by incompetence."
But even then, the plan might have survived.
If not for him.
---
Keiji Uchiha
Black Zetsu's smile vanished.
Keiji Uchiha—son of Madara. Victor of the Land of Fire Youth Ninja Competition. A boy who moved far too precisely for his age.
"He was not meant to be there," Black Zetsu hissed.
Yet Keiji had intervened.
He saved Daiki Hagoromo.
He captured the bounty hunters alive.
He delivered them directly to the Hagoromo Clan.
No ambiguity.
No deniability.
Truth laid bare.
The result?
The Uchiha and Hagoromo Clans were united.
Not bound by convenience.
But by gratitude and shared bloodshed.
Black Zetsu felt something rare coil in his chest.
Annoyance.
---
The Chinoike Clan Complication
And now—
The Chinoike Clan lived in the Land of Fire.
Not as exiles.
Not as scapegoats.
But as a sanctioned clan of the Land of Fire.
Protected.
Watched.
Poised.
"They were meant to fracture," Black Zetsu whispered. "Not anchor."
Their presence changed the equation. Instead of isolating the Hagoromo Clan, they now served as a pressure point between major powers. Instead of weakening the Land of Fire, their settlement forced consolidation.
Every move meant to scatter descendants of his brothers Hagoromo and Hamura had instead drawn them closer.
Uchiha Clan.
Hagoromo Clan.
Senju Clan.
Uzumaki Clan.
Hyūga Clan.
Kaguya Clan.
Too many roots.
Too deeply entwined.
---
A Shadow's Reflection
Black Zetsu sank back into the stone, thoughts racing faster than armies.
"This era is wrong," he muttered. "Too many anomalies. Too many actors stepping outside their roles."
His gaze drifted, unbidden, toward the thought of Keiji Uchiha.
A child who interfered where he should not.
A lineage too close to dangerous truths.
A presence that bent probability.
"And yet…" Black Zetsu murmured slowly, "…every deviation reveals something new."
Plans failed.
But failure taught.
If the Hagoromo Clan could not be driven out—
Then perhaps they could be pulled.
If the Chinoike Clan could not be destroyed—
Then perhaps they could be used.
And if Keiji Uchiha continued to disrupt the board—
Then the board itself would need to change.
Deep underground, ancient stone cracked as Black Zetsu reshaped himself into the shadows once more.
"Very well," he whispered, voice echoing through roots and bones alike.
"If my brothers descendants refuse to scatter…"
His pale half smiled again—slow, sharp, inevitable.
"Then the next move will ensure they collide."
---
End of the Chapter
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