Zeldris turned, eyes narrowing slightly. Sasori followed his gaze—and promptly froze.
When did he get here?!
More importantly… how did he get here?
There hadn't been the faintest flicker of chakra. Not even the usual dramatic ninja entrance. One second the lair was empty. The next—bam, there he was. A man in a black cloak with a single orange swirl for a face.
Sasori's instincts flared like alarm bells. Something was very wrong.
Anyone who could sneak up without alerting a sensor-type like Zeldris—or even a paranoid creep like him—was a problem. A space-time level problem.
And then he saw the eyes.
Red. Swirling. Watching.
Sharingan.
Sasori's entire body tensed like a spring-loaded trap. Puppet or not, he was ready to launch his entire arsenal if this turned south.
Before he could twitch, a calm hand touched his shoulder. He turned.
Zeldris.
The guy looked… unbothered. Almost amused.
With the faintest shake of his head, Zeldris gestured for Sasori to stand down. His lips curled into a smirk.
Of course, he knew who this was. That stupid mask was basically famous at this point.
The legendary ghost. The man behind the Nine-Tails incident. The one walking around pretending to be someone else for years.
Uchiha Obito.
Zeldris almost laughed. The greatest pretender in the entire ninja world had just walked through his front door. How poetic.
He remembered that face—well, the real one, back when they were kids at the Academy. Back when Obito wasn't a masked terrorist trying to start world war four.
How ironic, Zeldris thought, suppressing a grin.
Guess it's my turn to wear a mask.
His expression flipped in an instant. He narrowed his eyes, cloaking his voice in feigned caution.
"Who are you?" he asked coolly. "And what business do you have here?"
The masked man flinched. Subtly. Barely noticeable—but Zeldris caught it.
Behind the mask, Obito's eye widened slightly.
It's him…
A flood of memories hit like a kunai to the ribs.
Zeldris. The quiet rival. The one always a few steps behind—but too close for comfort. Back at the Academy, it had always been him, Kakashi, and… Zeldris. Until one day, Zeldris just vanished—early graduation, ANBU, then nothing.
Now here he was. Strong.Dangerous.
When the hell did he get this powerful?
Obito's pulse quickened, but he quickly smothered it under years of practiced deceit. Thank the gods for that dumb mask.
Time to play the part.
His voice dropped into the deep, commanding tone of his favorite cosplay.
"You're Zeldris—the rogue mercenary."
It wasn't a question. Just enough menace to sound important.
Then his gaze slid to the side.
"And you… the infamous puppet master of Sunagakure. The Red Sand Scorpion."
Sasori didn't respond. Just narrowed his eyes, like he was deciding whether or not to shoot poison gas directly into this guy's lungs.
Silence hung in the air.
Zeldris, meanwhile, was busy mentally connecting dots. This guy wasn't here by accident. Konan must've reported the Kazekage thing, and the masked ghost had come snooping—or worse, recruiting.
Too bad, he thought, you should've waited a few more days.
He let out a small chuckle. Nothing loud. Just enough to be noticed.
"Well," he said, stepping forward slightly, "you got one thing wrong."
Obito tilted his head.
Zeldris continued, voice like a razor.
"He's not the Red Sand Scorpion of Sunagakure anymore."
He paused just long enough for the impact to sink in.
"As of yesterday… he's part of something new."
Sasori didn't say anything. But his silence now felt deliberate. Like he agreed.
Obito's eye narrowed behind the mask.
Zeldris smirked.
"And judging by your eyes… Uchiha. From Konoha."
The masked man let out a low chuckle—gravelly and echoing. Like a bad guy from a theater play.
"You're right about that much," he said. "But don't get ahead of yourself."
He stepped forward, the crimson glow of his Sharingan catching the edge of the dim torchlight.
"My name… is not important."
Zeldris raised an eyebrow.
"That so?"
Obito gave a slow nod. "But yes. I'm Uchiha."
No point hiding it. The eyes gave it away. Might as well lean into the myth a little.
Zeldris gave a short laugh.
"Well then, Uchiha—what exactly do you want from us?"
His tone shifted midway. That easy calm drained out, leaving something colder.
"If this isn't about a job… or a contract…"
He let the sentence hang in the air like a blade above a throat.
"…then you can leave."
Obito stared at him.
So did Sasori.
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