Chapter XVI: Gyatsō
Hikari remains still; his breath steady as his large clay bird slowly descends from the sky. The bird squawks loudly, the sound echoing through the air as it spirals downwards. Hikari's eyes flicker downward, narrowing as they land on a figure standing at the entrance of a dark cave. The man is shrouded in mystery, his face concealed by a mask that immediately catches Hikari's attention. It's unmistakably Tobi's old mask — orange with a spiral pattern, starting from a single eye hole and radiating outward in a mesmerizing, almost hypnotic design. Hikari immediately recognizes the distinct design of the Osore organisation's attire— a loose-fitting, dark, and tattered hooded cloak, with the unmistakable Japanese kanji恐 (Fear) marking the wearer as one of their own. The unknown man's posture remains calm, but there's an undeniable aura of danger radiating from him, his presence unsettling in the otherwise serene landscape.
I hope I didn't take too long. Otherwise, I'll be seeing Konan again sooner than I thought, Hikari thinks. The clay bird touches down gently on the ground. The masked man stands motionless, his gaze fixed intently on Konan's unmoving body. The cold wind ruffles the edges of his cloak. There's a stillness in the air, as if the world is holding its breath in the presence of this enigmatic figure. Hikari's heart beats steadily, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. With a swift, fluid motion, the blonde shinobi leaps off the bird, landing softly on the earth. He doesn't hesitate, his body instinctively bowing low in a sign of respect toward the masked man, his eyes briefly flicking to the Konan's corpse before returning to meet the stranger's inscrutable gaze. The air is thick with anticipation, a silent tension between them that neither speaks, but both feel.
"Hikari... welcome back. Should I take it that Konan has been rendered unconscious?" The masked man's voice rings out, cool and steady, though there's a hint of curiosity in his tone. He stands tall, his posture unwavering, his eyes fixed on the motionless body just a few paces away.
Hikari shifts his weight, resting one arm casually behind his head. He gives a nonchalant smile, his gaze drifting between the masked man and Konan's still form. The air around them feels charged with an unspoken tension, yet Hikari remains unfazed, his demeanor laid-back despite the gravity of the situation.
"Actually, our dear comrade has been slain," Hikari replies.
"Ah... and who killed her?"
"I did. It was a mercy killing. She was mortally wounded by the enemy. Since she served us well, I ended her pain as quickly as possible."
The masked man crosses his arms slowly, his movements deliberate and precise, as if he's weighing his thoughts carefully. He exhales a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, the sound carrying a mix of resignation and quiet contemplation. His shoulders relax slightly, the tension of the moment easing just enough for him to collect his thoughts. His gaze remains fixed, but there's a subtle shift in his posture, as if he's pondering something far deeper than what's unfolding in front of him.
"I see. And what of Nagato?"
"I couldn't retrieve his body. Itachi's Amaterasu burned his body to ash."
"A most unfortunate outcome... I would have liked to praise their efforts myself. I could have Orochimaru bring them back to life, but Nagato insisted for that to never happen. My final reward for their loyalty... is to let them rest in peace," the masked man says. Hikari nods in agreement, his expression unreadable as he takes a moment to assess the situation. The masked man shifts his attention to Itachi's motionless body lying nearby. His gaze lingers on the Uchiha, his concealed eye narrowing ever so slightly, as if measuring the significance of the still form before him.
"I see that Itachi Uchiha was successfully reanimated and subjugated. I'm sure Orochimaru has his own hidden motives, but he's been playing nice for the time being. It's a shame he rejected my offers into the Osore," the masked man says.
"Can we... actually trust that scoundrel?" Hikari asks, his voice laced with disdain, not even attempting to mask the venom in his tone. The words drip with bitterness, a reflection of the deep resentment festering inside him. The mere thought of having to work alongside Orochimaru—the very villain who had torn his life apart—is enough to stir something dark in his chest. His jaw clenches, the memory of the past burning in his mind. More than anything, Hikari longs for revenge, his heart still heavy with the loss of those he once held dear. The faces of his childhood friends, their smiles forever lost to him, haunt his dreams every night. They are the ghosts of his past, and their absence fuels a fire of vengeance that will not be easily quenched.
"My alliance with Orochimaru and the Hidden Sound is purely military," the masked man says, his voice cold and calculated. "When he has outlived his usefulness, I will dispose of him without hesitation. But for now, I cannot ignore the role he has played in advancing my war preparations." He pauses, his gaze sharpening as he turns his focus back to Hikari. "Which reminds me—did you complete the mission I entrusted you with?" The weight of the question lingers in the air, a subtle challenge in his tone as he waits for Hikari's response.
"Yes, I planted multiple bombs throughout the Hidden Leaf Village," Hikari replies, his voice steady and confident, though there's a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes. "Using my Speed Style jutsu, I ensured I was undetected. Not a single soul sensed my presence as I set them in place." He pauses for a moment, his mind replaying the precise movements, the careful execution. "One of my co-conspirators informed me one of the bombs detonated on a Leaf Anbu squad earlier," he continues, a slight smirk curling at the corner of his lips. The thought of the explosion and the chaos it caused gives him a small, dark thrill, knowing it's all part of the plan that's steadily unfolding.
"Once my fusion with Itachi is complete, you will immediately set off the remaining bombs," the masked man orders, his voice calm yet filled with dark resolve. "Orochimaru's Hidden Sound shinobi, alongside my own Hidden Dark forces, will strike the village with precision, overwhelming it and taking control." He lets the weight of his words settle in the air, his eye gleaming with a sinister fire. "In this war, I will rise, revealed as a god—one who will alone rule over the Land of Fire. The very earth will tremble beneath my reign." His expression hardens, a dangerous edge to his tone. "And then, one by one, the rest of the Five Great Nations will crumble, bowing before my might. No force, no alliance, will stand in my way."
Hikari smirks faintly, his eyes glinting with a mixture of admiration and a dark, unwavering loyalty. He lowers his head in a deep, respectful bow, the gesture more than just an act of submission—it's a vow.
"I will gladly risk my life if it means I can serve you," he says, his voice steady, tinged with fervor. "I will always stand by your side, no matter the cost, to witness you become exactly what you've set out to be." Hikari's words are filled with an intensity that suggests no room for doubt. "I will see you ascend to that throne," he continues, his tone softening with a reverence that borders on worship, "and nothing will sway my resolve, Lord Gyats-"
The masked man suddenly grabs Hikari by the throat, lifting him off the ground with a swift motion until his feet hang helplessly in the air. Hikari gasps for breath, his chest heaving as the pressure tightens around him. He keeps his arms at his sides, making no attempt to resist, his body completely still except for the sharp rise and fall of his breath. His eyes remain focused, betraying no fear, only a silent acknowledgment of his situation.
"Never address me by that name when I wear this mask," Gyatsō demands, his voice cold and commanding, each word sharp like a blade. The intensity of his gaze holds Hikari captive, his presence a tangible pressure in the air. "Do you understand me, Hikari?" The words echo ominously, a warning that carries weight far beyond the simple command.
Hikari meets Gyatsō's concealed eye without hesitation, his own expression blank. The air is thick with tension as he opens his mouth, a brief moment of silence hanging between them before he speaks.
"I do," he answers hoarsely.
Gyatsō releases his grip on Hikari's neck, the pressure lifting just as quickly as it had come. He begins to chuckle softly to himself, the sound low and almost amused, as though pleased with the exchange.
"Good. Now, take Itachi to the gathering lair," he says. "When our little Uchiha friend wakes up, I'll speak with him before the fusion."
Hikari rubs his slightly bruised neck, feeling the sting as his fingers graze over the area. He glances downward, a moment of contemplation passing through his mind.
"Yes, my liege," he replies, his voice tinged with respect, the words slipping easily from his lips as he bows his head slightly.
Without hesitation, Hikari performs a series of hand signs, his fingers moving swiftly through the familiar motions. The large stone entrance behind Gyatsō groans and slowly begins to slide open, revealing a dark tunnel beyond. The bird model, a quiet sentinel of clay, steps forward and enters the passage, Hikari following closely behind it.
"Are you coming?" Hikari asks, glancing back at Gyatsō, his tone casual but respectful.
"I will, momentarily. Go on without me," Gyatsō responds, his eyes fixed on the darkness ahead as if deep in thought. His words carry an air of finality, an unspoken command.
Hikari shrugs and continues walking into the tunnel, his footsteps echoing faintly as he moves further from the cave's entrance. The stone door slides back into place with a quiet rumble, sealing the passage behind him.
Gyatsō stands still for a moment, his expression unreadable under Tobi's mask. He closes his eyes briefly, then reaches up and gently rests his hand on the mask. With a deliberate motion, he unhooks the straps and slowly lifts the mask off, revealing his true face beneath it.
He is a slender figure, his skin pale as if untouched by the sun, with moppy white hair that falls in disarray around his face. His red eyes—crimson and unblinking—stare into the vastness of the sky above, a wicked smirk curling at his lips. The wind howls around him, tugging at his pure white hair, sending it swirling back as though it too acknowledges his power.
Soon... oh yes, so soon... I shall become a god of war.