"This kid? That's easy."
Kazuyama Gekkō smiled faintly, stepped up to the water prison, and looked calmly at Sasori of the Red Sand.
Crystal spread out, piercing into the water prison and transforming the entire sphere into a glittering crystal orb.
But under his control, only Sasori's puppet body was crystallized—he deliberately left the core in his chest untouched.
"Shatter."
At his soft command, the newly-formed crystal sphere cracked and crumbled.
When it was done, only the core remained, along with a few scattered puppet fragments.
"There. All finished."
"Just the core left."
"But, sensei, you'd better be careful when dealing with him. You know his personality."
He tossed the core to Orochimaru. When it came to handling Sasori of the Red Sand, Orochimaru was the best suited.
And besides, this technique of condensing all flesh into a chakra core might inspire Orochimaru to create all sorts of strange things.
"Hehehe, then I'll take it."
"Don't worry. I've got plenty of ways to handle someone like him."
"Didn't that Hōzuki brat you gave me also end up behaving himself?"
He was talking about Hōzuki Mangetsu. The poor guy had it rough—locked in a container day in and day out, pulled out for experiments whenever Orochimaru remembered, left to rot whenever he didn't. No human rights whatsoever.
Kazuyama Gekkō shrugged and set off with Orochimaru toward the Land of Waterfalls.
After all, Orochimaru's herb-hunting matter still wasn't resolved. If they couldn't gather them, they'd just have to buy some.
...
Meanwhile, in the Land of Rivers.
Nagato and Black Zetsu had accepted the truth. As much as they had valued Sasori of the Red Sand, he had been captured—by Kazuyama Gekkō and Orochimaru, no less. The outcome was obvious.
"Who's there!"
"Come out!"
Just as they were about to leave, Nagato's eyes flared and he roared toward a direction.
Black Zetsu frowned, then thrust his right hand into the ground. A startled cry followed.
"Ah!"
"Who are you?!"
Vines shot up, binding a figure and lifting them into the air. The trapped person screamed in shock.
Nagato and Black Zetsu finally saw clearly—it was just a child, no older than seven or eight, gray-haired and wearing glasses.
"A kid? From where…?"
"But that emblem…"
Black Zetsu's eyes narrowed. On the child's clothes, he spotted a scorpion crest.
Fresh from battle, he instantly recognized it—the same emblem Sasori of the Red Sand used on his puppets.
"What's your relationship with Sasori of the Red Sand?"
"That's my sensei… Let me go! Where is he?"
This child was Kabuto.
During the battle, he had seen the unmistakable Iron Sand of his teacher, Sasori of the Red Sand, and rushed here. But by the time he arrived, his sensei was already captured.
Still, he showed no fear—or perhaps he didn't even know what fear was.
His face was calm, his tone composed.
That alone intrigued Black Zetsu. Anyone who had come this far couldn't have missed the scale of the battle.
And for him to be connected to Sasori of the Red Sand… interesting.
"Zetsu, that emblem."
"Mm. I saw. His disciple, maybe?"
Black Zetsu suddenly felt this trip wasn't fruitless after all.
A disciple chosen by a genius like Sasori of the Red Sand was unlikely to be ordinary.
"We may not have recruited Sasori, but this kid isn't bad. If trained properly, he might even surpass him as a puppeteer."
"Then take him. Let's move quickly. Staying here irritates me."
Nagato waved impatiently, dismissed his clones, and adjusted his clothes.
"Hehehe, let's go."
"Kid, come with us. Your sensei is already dead."
"Better to follow us than stay here."
Kabuto showed no reaction at all. Though he had been Sasori's disciple, he had endured enough horrors that his emotions were dulled.
Instead, his obsession lay with puppetry.
"If I go with you, will you teach me Puppet Technique?"
"That you'll have to learn yourself. Everyone walks their own path."
"What's your name?"
Kabuto glanced at them. One looked like a black-and-white cactus, the other had rings for eyes. Neither seemed like good people.
"Kabuto."
"…Come, then. Kabuto."
Black Zetsu bound him with vines and was about to leave when Kabuto stopped them.
"Not yet."
"My sensei's lab is nearby. I need to take the puppets."
How could a puppeteer leave without his puppets?
Besides, his sensei was gone. Who else should inherit them if not him? Better that than letting them gather dust.
Sasori of the Red Sand: My dear disciple, thank you so much…
When they followed Kabuto to Sasori's base, both Nagato and Black Zetsu fell silent as they watched him frantically pack everything.
"Zetsu, are you sure taking this kid is the right move?"
"Mm…"
He looked at Kabuto—who showed no grief for his sensei, only a sick excitement as he looted everything—and suddenly doubted himself.
"It should be fine… just an obsession with puppetry."
Nagato stared at Black Zetsu, then sighed helplessly. Really, what was he expecting? That you could read expressions on a pitch-black face?
Forget it. They'd take him. At least they had a new candidate.
Kabuto left the Land of Rivers without a trace of regret, clutching his packed bags like treasure.
Until they reached the base in the Land of Water.
"You're too slow."
"Huh? Where's Orochimaru? Why'd you bring back a kid?"
Uchiha Muren was already impatient. His dōjutsu let him travel fast, find people faster.
A tall figure stood at his side, radiating a sinister killing intent.
"Kakuzu. Meet Nagato, Zetsu… and, well, a nameless brat."
Yes—the one standing beside Uchiha Muren was Kakuzu. Even in uniform, the murderous aura he carried was impossible to hide.