The chapter was edited by Kitty Puff

"Speech"

A note, emphasis on the word, or flashback

Signs

Chapter 2 Revelations

The Hokage library was vast. To call it anything less than that would be to insult the endless number of books that had gathered and found their way into this quiet domain over nearly an entire century. The shelves and cabinets twisted and folded in an almost labyrinthine manner leaving only a central circle clear. This was the library's workspace.

To be in this circle was to be at the heart of an incomprehensible magic. Silent and profound was this place, surrounded by an endless wealth of knowledge that had come from all corners of the world and from every culture imaginable. So many were the books gathered here that no man could read them all in a single lifetime and at the centre of them all was a round table.

It was situated right in the middle of the workplace, big enough to accommodate as many as ten people and, because it was in the centre of the library, it was easy to navigate back to. When Jiraiya reached this place, he found a big drawn version of the Hakke no Fuuin Shiki combined with the Shiki Fuujin. It was an eight trigram style seal, where four symbol seals had been separated. To put it simply, this seal was capable of filtering a demon's chakra and adding it to a person's natural reserves.

He studied the meticulously drawn seal for a minute before he turned his attention to the contract that could summon a Shinigami.

The Yondaime was right- logically the only price one could pay for summing a Death God was a life in return.

But if that was the case, why then hadn't Minato lost his life? What had gone differently from the theorised outcome? Were death God's perhaps not quite the way humans thought they were? Did they desire things other than the life of the summoner in return for their services? What exactly was it that they wanted in return?

It was impossible to say, after all it wasn't every day that someone summoned a God, therefore information on this topic was exceedingly scarce.

Of course, Jiraiya shouldn't have been surprised. After all, how were humans to know what went through the mind of a God or that of a demon, angel or any other spirit that surely dwelt in this world somewhere...

The white haired man scratched his left brow in confusion. What had Minato been thinking when he had signed the deal with the Shinigami? Couldn't he have used some standard demon sealing method instead? Why did he insist on doing everything in his own, heroic, sacrificial way? For all the brains the boy had been blessed with, he could be an astonishingly stupid brat...

Jiraiya was just thankful that Minato hadn't fought against the help of the medics, It had taken a while but at last, he had managed to convince the blonde that his child was probably still alive and the world hadn't ended. Jiraiya suspected that if he hadn't, the man might have committed suicide. He had truly loved that woman and the child…for what little time he had known him.

Though, despite the fact that he had been able to convince Minato that Naruto was still alive, he wasn't so sure of it himself. The only clue he had was a single detail about parentage. The Shinigami had not said that the child would die, but neither did he say that it would live. Regardless, Jiraiya had explained it to Minato in such a way that made the Shinigami's words sound like this parentage had been transferred to someone else now and thanks to this little lie Minato was once again ready to face the world and start searching for his baby.

There was one other aspect of the Shinigami's words that Jiraiya found deeply disturbing. He had mentioned that Minato was not the only one to be punished for his actions. There was this so called 'initiator of the attack' that was to receive this punishment too. The question was who was this person and what reason did they have for their show of aggression? From what Sarutobi had revealed in his musings, it was most likely the same person that was behind the civil war in Waft and the deaths of the few strong Konoha anbu. Sarutobi also, apparently, believed that the attack must have been planned months in advance.

Jiraiya looked back to Minato. The poor boy. He was so young, yet already so broken. He remembered how the blonde man had cried in his arms when he finally found it in himself to let go and express his grief. Perhaps, that was why the Shinigami hadn't taken his life – because it would just be too easy to die. So Minato was given the hard way to live: without his child and wife.

The God of Death would surely not burden himself with a human child so that meant one of two things had happened to the child. Either he had killed it to make sure that Minato would never stand a chance to see his child again, or he abandoned it into the care of someone else, some other human. If this was the case, they would have to look for a boy with blonde hair and blue eyes. There couldn't possibly be that many people with features as striking as Minato's.

But something told the ageing man, that they weren't going to find the child. No matter how hard they tried.

They were, after all, dealing with the Shinigami himself.

There is nothing a God does that need make sense to humans.

"Hush...hush..." She almost sang, in an attempt to calm the boy down. She shook the small bottle with warm milk and pressed the teat to his lips.

"Come on, my child..." She whispered and smiled triumphantly when the boy finally latched onto the teat. She was walking through the kitchen, lightly swaying the child back and forth in her arms.

Aiko had noted that baby was surprisingly calm for the most part. He slept solidly and peacefully, ate everything Aiko gave him without fuss and cried only when he was hungry or decided he wasn't receiving enough attention. Usually babies also cried when they encountered something they didn't like or understand. But Shirushi was impossibly curious and rarely got freaked by anything he stumbled upon.

But Aiko had quickly come to understand that the infant in her care was destined to be very different from any other child she'd met. The first noticeable sign that alerted her to this fact were his eyes. Their purple sheen was simply unnatural. She had thought that this was at least one thing he had in common with his father – unusual eyes.

"I wonder…Do you maybe look more like your mother? She might have been a ninja too..." she mused.

Aiko didn't know anything about the boy's parent's history. All she knew, for now, was that Shirushi didn't have mother to look after him, and that his father wasn't willing to devote his time to children. It troubled her that Madara-sama would neglect his son like this and fretted over the fact that he might come to see him as an object to be used. Maybe his heart had been broken by the death of his beloved, and in order to protect his fragile mentality he became harsh and cold?

She had met plenty of people who tried to build a wall around their broken hearts and knew that they all wound up just hurting themselves in the end. If the same was happening with the boy's father, she wasn't sure if she could fix it if he only ever appeared every once in a while. His work as a shinobi also contributed to this because while he was becoming cruel and cold, there was no one to distract him from the cruelty of life that shinobi witnessed so often. And killing people tended to become easier when one did not possess emotions. And so Aiko decided that she simply had to try and raise the boy in the right way, protecting his innocence.

"Your daddy is so lonely. He must feel crushed every time he looks at you."

She walked to the window and looked out. The house was surrounded by a grassy meadow and further away was the forest line. In her explorations of the mansion Aiko had found a lovely pond behind the building, and a bathhouse to boot! It was like a dream come true to have such a luxurious facility at her disposal.

She glanced up at the sky. It was a sunny day, and she almost felt like she had been reborn. She wondered if this was because she had been given a new purpose in life?

The boy yawned toothlessly, and then began to observe her with a keenness that was unnatural for one so young and yet he did it so innocently that she couldn't help but smile.

"It's a good thing that you have me, Shirushi. Your father will do anything to take his mind off all those painful memories, so he will be working hard, trying to forget about your mother, and as sad as it is, he'll be forgetting about you too. But we won't let him do that, right?"

She headed up the stairs to bring the infant to his room as he yawned again. The boy was ready to take his afternoon nap.

On the day of her arrival Aiko had discovered that the house, was far bigger than she had at first anticipated. The top floor alone had six bedrooms and two bathrooms, while the first floor boasted a kitchen, a dining room, a drawing room, and a study, the sizes of which bordered on the silly. On the ground floor she had found a library and even a dojo, which was connected to a room containing an assortment of shinobi equipment (this room she kept locked for the safety of the insatiably nosy boy).

All in all, the living conditions of this place were more than just a little impressive, so it surprised her when she learned that the lord of the house rarely lived here. He must have been on the move a lot, and his work forced him to spend most of his time away from here. But that was a given though, he was a ninja after all.

But Aiko maintained the opinion that it would be for the best if he could find more time to spend with his son. If only Madara-sama would remember that this child would eventually need a father figure.

She smiled a knowingly thinking that all men wanted to settle down and start a family, sooner or later, and all men no matter how hard they tried to deny it, loved children, especially their own. Madara-sama simply needed time, she thought, as she laid the sleeping boy gently in his crib.

His footsteps were heavy as he made his way to the opening that led outside where the sun was presently shining brightly. He was in no particular hurry. But there was one very important thing he still had on his to-do list.

He walked along the decoration of the building – which appeared to be a tongue – high above the ground, above the city, above human kind. He was closer to the sky than the earth. The sky that could hear him, his thoughts, his intents…

Today was the day.

Two years ago, he had taken an enormous step closer to his own dream. Two years ago, he had also taken a step closer to his dream too.

I hate this pathetic village with its never-ending rain. I will make it stop one day, so that this village, this little child will stop crying…I will become the God of this world, and cease its endless conflict…

He had become a God. A God in his people's eyes, a God in his own eyes. He could finally control the skies. But today, he could not let the sun shine brightly on this settlement as it wanted to. Today this place had to weep.

He raised his arms and looked up. His eyes did not reflect the clouds in the sky; his face was not that of a deity. The face appeared sad, calm, knowing and tranquil but it was also horrifically pierced with a multitude of black objects. Strands of his spiked orange hair shifted in the wind as, rapidly, everything around him darkened, and the, previously bright sky, was abruptly overshadowed by dark clouds. Soon the first raindrops began their descent to the earth.

Below, infinitesimal people stopped what they were doing and observed the rain. To them it was a sign that their God was in mourning. His pain was almost tangible to them, so they stopped smiling and laughing and became quiet. If their God had a reason to be sad that day, then that meant they had a reason too. If their God couldn't find happiness then how could they?.

He let the water soak through his clothes and to his skin. It made him feel right. This very day, a few years ago, his friend, the person most important to him, died. He had taken it upon himself to continue fighting for his friend's dreams and he was prepared to sacrifice just about everything for it. Even himself.

He felt the presence of another person behind his back. But he didn't need to turn around to know it was her. She was one of the reasons as to why their friend had died. But she was also one of the reasons why he was still alive.

Yahiko had loved her. That was why he had given up his life for her.

He himself needed her and cared for her. That was why he let her stay, even though being with him would put her in an immeasurable amount of danger. But she was stronger now. She could take care of herself.

Every year, on the day that Yahiko died, she refused to speak. Today was no different. She would not utter a word for the rest of the day. It was as if she had made a vow to herself and maybe she had. When she looked at him, she tried to hide what she felt. And he knew what she felt, because he almost felt the same when he looked at himself.

She didn't step into the rain. She stayed beneath the shelter, not joining him in his grief.

It wasn't vanity or discomfort that compelled her to remain out of the deluge-nothing so trite. She blamed herself and she wouldn't allow the rain to wash away her guilt and pain lest she forget what caused it. She didn't deserve the purifying touch of the rain.

They were so different, and yet so alike.

They had grown so strong in these past years and they hadn't abandoned their friend's dream either. Their friend was still with them, and they were determined to show him what they could achieve with their powers.

It was all about revenge.

Everything in this world is done out of love. Love made people do stupid, beautiful, and horrifying things. Things like revenge.

There was no man out there, closer to him than he had been to his own brother. He was the only one who understood him, was equal to him and shared his views with him. They had been unbeatable. So why was it that he was standing here alone?

It was so very long ago.

He had lost his sight. He had been so powerless that he hadn't even been able walk around the compound without stumbling. In hindsight, he realised that he had relied on his eyes far too much, and that inevitably his sight had betrayed him. But he had his pride – that classic Uchiha pride - that wouldn't allow him to admit that he realized his life as a shinobi was over. He tried to learn to live without it, to fight and see and live without his eyes, but it was in vain. In the end even his own clansmen treated him with pity. As if he was a dead man...

He didn't let it show though. He maintained his dignity, attended meetings and giving his advice where it was needed. He refused to let anyone aid him when he blindly made his way through the maze of corridors that made up the Uchiha clan's compound.

In the end, he chose to die by an enemy's hand. Meeting one's death in a fight was the greatest honour a warrior could receive.

But, apparently, it wasn't meant to be.

When their clan received a mission they couldn't refuse, it was clear that his brother would never fulfil it adequately, even if he had the whole clan to back him. It was well known, that in order to challenge one clan, you had to use another.

The Elders of the clan came to conclusion that it was Madara who was needed on the battlefield. But for him to be even remotely useful, he had to have ability to see.

It was only later that he found out that Izuna had wanted to give him his eyes. That he couldn't bear to see his older brother struggling with the curse and that the reason why he hadn't come to him to speak of it, was that he had known that Madara would simply refuse.

So when the elders ordered Izuna to give one eye to his older brother, he had obeyed implicitly.

They were briefed on the mission together, and planned every move. They gathered the strongest of their men, and put their plans and strategies in motion. The fight on unnamed land lasted for hours, and in the end, it was they who were victorious.

The clan they had been ordered to eliminate had possessed the ability to camouflage themselves in any and every terrain. Of course no matter how good they were at blending in with their surroundings, nothing could help them hide from eyes that could see chakra.

Having successfully completed the mission, Madara felt for, perhaps, the first time in a long time that he was experiencing a new beginning and that things might get better. But, of course, it was not to be. The remainder of the slaughtered clan and their allies wanted revenge for their defeat and came after the Uchiha clan, and fought to avenge their fallen clansmen.

The second battle was a gruesome and dreadful affair as the tired and weakened Uchiha clan were unable to raise their guard again in time.

And it was then, during the second battle, that Madara watched his brother die.

The one person that meant the world to him.

Izuna had always placed others before himself. He had protected and loved his family unconditionally and Madara had one day told him that if he did not think of his own well-being at some point, that he would eventually die thinking of others.

Madara had been right and Izuna died taking a blow that was meant for someone else.

The few of them that remained after that battle were forced into shameful retreat.

That day he swore revenge.

Revenge on the clans of the Water country.

But it had, had to wait while he was drawn into shinobi clan wars, and then, the creation of shinobi village. In a whirlwind of events, facing one betrayal after another, he eventually ceased believing in anything other than his own actions and abilities. Madara felt that anyone he trusted in would surely betray him and become his enemy at one point or another. Even those he worked with and employed were only under illusion that he cared. His last true friend had been Hashirama, and even he was his arch enemy, because he was of the Senju clan.

Sometimes Madara got the impression that the whole world and all its inhabitants were out to get him, and he was stubbornly breaking down all their walls to achieve his victory.

But after obtaining immortality, time became of little consequence to him, and he slowly, carefully took steps, to bring his grand plans to fruition. And when he was officially proclaimed dead, it became even easier to move about undetected, go where he wanted to, do what he wanted to do. No one in their right minds would ever imagine that he still existed. His enemies would never be aware of him. He would hide behind someone else's face, someone's shadow and yet be perfectly free to use their positions, their power and control their actions.

His revenge on Izuna's killers was always there, in the back of his mind, waiting for the right moment to take its place at the front of his thoughts. And when it did, executing his long planned revenge was a piece of cake.

It had truly had been laughably easy to take the Mizukage's place, then to plant the idea for a bloodline purge and finally set the plan in motion. All he'd had to do was tell the ignorant people of Kiri that the bloodline wielders were demons in disguise and were always looking for an opportunity to kill them in their sleep. The idiots ate the lies like they were delectable morsels and all because he had seized the highest position of power.

None of the shinobi questioned the change in their leader's behaviour or actions, that was if they had even noted it. Yagura wasn't the sanest one around after all, and he'd had to bear the burden of the Sanbi. The logic of the people dictated that Yagura-sama would surely know better about demons than they, since he was, after all, the jailer of one.

All of this also helped for him to realize the sheer power that the bijuu possessed. And if memory served correctly, all the bijuu had been divided between shinobi villages in order to maintain a balance of power and as a sign of peace, courtesy of Hashirama. Most of the villages, in the hopes of obtaining a powerful weapon, sealed beasts into humans.

But Madara had a more ambitious plan for the bijuu. He intended to recreate the ten tailed beast from the nine that currently existed. If the historical records were correct, then the sage of six paths himself had been the first jinchuuriki but, unable to fully destroy the ten tailed beasts power, was forced to tear it into pieces. Madara felt giddy just thinking about the power that he would obtain if he successfully formed the ten tails again...

He held the child in his arms as Aiko placed all the supplies he had brought in their respective places. He wasn't in the least surprised to see her so full of energy, excitement, humour and smiles any more. In the beginning it had been a bit uncomfortable to see her behaving so positively, but he learned to ignore such things. Her love for the boy made her happy, most likely.

He looked down when he felt Shirushi touch his mask. It seemed he liked to study absolutely everything around him and those eyes were always so full of curiosity, as if he was ready to discover everything there was to learn about the world. Madara sincerely hoped that those eyes were worth all the effort he was putting into the boy's growth. He was having to spend time, money and a good portion of his thoughtfulness on the kid. He was no fool, and knew that the bloodline the child seemed to possess shouldn't be necessary for his plans to come to fruition, but it looked to be a powerful one and Madara was never one to pass up a chance to obtain a bit more power.

Using other people in one's plans and relying on them was one thing, but raising someone and teaching them to worship and protect you was entirely different. In the future, when this boy would see him as the most important figure in his life, he wouldn't even have to tell him to do what needed to be done. The boy would simply follow his every order, wish and demand without a thought of resistance. And if he influenced him in the right way, the kid might prove to be very useful. Besides, he would never dare to betray him, unlike so many others...

He could pay for a shinobi to take an order from him, but nothing could quite compare to the devotion of a child to his or her parent figure. After all: parents are gods in the eyes of a child. And that was what he was counting on. But it would still be some time before the boy grew up. Fortunately for Madara though, he wasn't in any hurry, he was an extremely patient person; and he had plenty of time on his hands.

"...mouth almost full; I think he will have all his teeth pretty early, it's proof that he's very healthy. He also repeats words a lot, so I am sure he will learn to speak early too. He's probably going to be a very smart boy."The woman informed him happily, still busy with the task at hand.

"He's already repeating words? I thought children only started talking around the age of two." He said, and blinked when the boy repeated 'words'. The pronunciation hadn't been perfect by any means, but it still came as a surprise. He found it almost equally surprising that the boy had detected the emphasis on that particular word. Unconsciously, his right hand caressed blond locks, noting that they were very soft.

"Oh, it all depends on the child. There's no set rule for when or how children start to talk. Sooner or later, they just do."

Madara grunted in reply. It pleased him that the child was already growing and progressing. It appeared he had inherited good genes. But he didn't plan on making too much contact with the boy: at least not until he could hold a decent conversation with him. Madara decided to hazard a guess that the boy came from a family of ninjas and that the ninjas in question possessed a Kekkai Genkai of some form themselves. Perhaps they had been different bloodlines and in combining had formed the one this boy had. Or perhaps the parents had both possessed the same bloodline but theirs were recessive and had only come to show in their progeny.

Very interesting indeed.

Aiko fixed her dress after joining Madara and Shirushi in the drawing room. She stepped closer with a bright smile and slightly touched Madara's shoulder while looking down at the child.

"O-tou-san." She pronounced slowly, expecting the boy to learn how to address his father. He didn't disappoint.

"Oo-t-tou-saan..."The boy tried. Madara was astonished to find that he felt very uncomfortable. He felt as if his responsibilities had multiplied all of a sudden and he didn't like the increased weight of them. Not one bit.

"See, Madara-sama, he's a quick learner. Oh, by the way, I've prepared dinner, will you join us?"

He shook his head and held out the baby to her."No, I won't. I don't have time." She nodded shifting the boy in her arms so that they both felt comfortable."Have you written everything you need in the list?"

"Yes." She replied, saddened by the brusque tone he had taken all of a sudden. Madara ignored her dejection.

"I'll be back in a month with the fresh supplies." He stated and left in the vortex of smoke and fire. She sighed at the lack of progress in his feelings for the boy, but she reasoned that she had lots of time.

There was no window. And no warmth either.

Only cold stone walls and iron bars.

He often leaned his head on them staring at the wall opposite him. And no matter how he tried to look at it, he felt like a caged animal – no – he was a caged animal.

His wrists, ankles, chest and stomach were adorned by chakra suppression seals, but they really weren't much in comparison with his prison. It was literally decorated with them. They prevented him from being able to utilise his chakra for even the simplest of jutsu. Moreover the seals made him incredibly weak, leached him of his strength and he noticed that with each month he had less energy, slept longer, wasting away. And yet despite that, he continued to dream up brilliant and fantastical escape plans.

But they were all worthless. He was wasting his time. He was never getting out. He was condemned.

It was as if he lived on a deserted island. Not once had he found proof that, somewhere in the world outside his prison, lived other people.

He believed that his prison was underground, so he had no idea what was happening in the outside world. The small bit of space behind the bars led absolutely nowhere, as if this prison had no entrance and no exit.

There was no sunlight.

The only sources of light were a pair of grim torches that were stationed on the other side of the bars, well out of his reach.

The young man with the short light hair sighed and shut his purple eyes as he contemplated his situation. In the beginning he had been confused. He had awaited the day when his captors would use, torture or kill him or whatever else it was that Jinchuuriki kidnappers did. But time had passed and nothing of that sort happened.

It confused him to no end; what could his kidnappers possibly gain by keeping him imprisoned but alive? The only thing that came to mind was that it would lead to an absence of the village leader. But in essence that made no sense since the village would simply pick a new leader and keeping him alive wasn't exactly a pre-requisite for that. So why keep him alive at all?

He wished that he could at least speak to his demon. But even that small ability had been taken from him by yet another set of unknown seals. He was powerless and nearing his wits end. But he wouldn't stoop so low as to kill himself, even if he was sick and tired with the current state of things and his pathetic circumstances.

The worst part was the silence. It was enough to drive anyone insane – though he suspected that he may have already crossed that line for some time now.

The silence along with the loneliness and hopelessness were slowly turning him numb.

He dejectedly sat on the futon and waited, because waiting was all that was left for him to do.

He didn't know – or indeed, no longer cared – how long he had been sitting motionlessly when a hideous figure emerged from the wall on the other side of the bars. He had long since gotten used to its strange appearance. With its green hair, yellow eyes, and two oppositely coloured halves of its body and its bizarre and ugly Venus fly-trap...

Yagura could not bring himself to believe that this...thing...was human. Even if it did possess some human features.

It was always the same; the thing would bring him some food, observe his appearance, maybe throw a comment or two (usually offending in its nature) and then leave. He was yet to learn what his name was, and who was behind his incarceration.

He had already considered that someone maybe planned to extract the demon from him. For what purpose he could not say but perhaps his extended stay was a result of a lack of knowledge on how to extract the demon and seal it within something else. At any rate, this someone had better get to fulfilling those plans soon, because he was quickly getting tired of his unpleasant situation.

The green haired figure silently pushed the food through the bars. The wide black cloak it wore failed to disguise its unpleasant appearance.

Yagura did not stand up. He continued to sit there and only briefly glanced at the food given to him. He barely even had the strength to feel annoyed any more even though he was being treated like a dog; with access to water in the corner of the room, and the food on the floor.

He let his tired glare land on the plant thing.

"You appear to be in a bad mood today, Mizukage-sama."The thing spoke. It was mocking him and he wished he could just squeeze the life out of it.

A moment later the air by the strange figure started to change and shift. It became a swirl and quickly took the shape of a man.

The prisoner narrowed his eyes at the newcomer. For all the time he spent in this prison, ugly plant-man here had been the only living being to grace him with its presence. This was someone totally new to him.

The newcomers face was hidden in the shadowy of strands of his hair, so he couldn't determine what he looked like, but his red eyes were piercingly clear in the darkness, as they observed him in a frighteningly calculating way.

He felt a shiver go up his spine and wondered how it was that someone could cause him to feel such fear with only a single look. It had to be someone powerful obviously.

Perhaps this was the person responsible for his disappearance, perhaps he was even his attacker?

They stared at each other, thinking, observing and judging. There was no doubt in Yagura's mind that this person knew who he was, He could only wish that he could say the same for the strangers in front of him. Upon closer inspection of the stranger he came to the conclusion that he might be dealing with an Uchiha. The man was clearly using a doujutsu and he could only think of one where the eye's turned red.

While he studied the three tailed demon's jinchuuriki, Madara noted that he had lost some weight and possibly the will to live. Even though Yagura glared at him with the eyes of an irritated and tired man, he could see depression behind it. For the most part, that was good. It meant he wasn't a threat and would not run away (not that he could anyway). But there was always a possibility that if kept here for too long, he would snap and try to kill himself.

That of course was a significant problem, since his death would kill the beast also. If it got to that stage he would have to consider further restraints.

"He's unresponsive." The yellow eyed creature spoke, commenting on the prisoner's behaviour. "But he's quiet, doesn't cause trouble and seems to be fairly patient."

"I see." Madara murmured. "That's good."

"Have you decided what you're going to do with him?"

"Of course. But the plan has not progressed that far yet." The man mysteriously replied. The creature nodded its understanding.

"By the way," It suddenly said. "I have piece of news you might be interested in hearing." The strange thing tilted its head expectantly and the white half smiled.

The man looked at him from the corner of his eye."What news?"

"I was able to confirm those rumours about the Ame village. It has a new leader."

Madara nodded and returned to studying the jinchuuriki.

"It's strange though." It added. "The new leader never appears in public. Rather, he sends some sort of Angel to inform the village of his plans and laws."

The plant-like figure directed a serious look at the man and spoke quieter."From what I've heard, he single-handedly defeated Hanzo, after fighting and rebelling against him for years. Since then, he's become known as a God to Rain shinobi, or, his other name, Pain. Also, he may possess power related to his eyes. I only caught a glimpse, but from what I could see it looked like concentric grey rings around his pupils."

Madara frowned and then turned to his trusted spy with a thoughtful expression."A doujutsu?"

"Possible."

"Very interesting."The man hummed with a calculating glint in his eyes. He actually already had an idea as to what doujutsu could it be, even though it seemed almost too good to be true.

From inside his prison, the jinchuuriki observed the figures in front of him interact as if he didn't even exist anymore. Did they consider him so helpless, so insignificant that it didn't even matter if he heard what they talked about? The thought made him scoff inwardly, but a part of him – a weak and cowardly part of him – quailed at the thought that perhaps they really were as strong as they considered themselves. In their minds he, apparently, didn't stand a so much as a hint of chance of escaping.

He had, of course, tried everything that had come to his mind to escape, but to no avail. Not that it stopped him from trying and cooking up ever more far-fetched and implausible plans. They were fools for underestimating him and he would prove it to them by escaping.

Now if only he could work out how...

For those who might forgot, Yagura is the original Yondaime Mizukage, also jinchuuriki of the three tailed beast...

A. N. I have to add that I ignore the original sealing method Minato used to defeat the Kyuubi. Here both the sealing technique and summoning of Shinigami are separate things.