The moment White Zetsu appeared, Nagato knew it meant trouble—though not too much. Compared to other threats he had faced, White Zetsu was more of an annoyance than a true danger. Still, it was something that needed to be handled carefully.
White Zetsu wasn't acting alone. Behind his strange appearance and unpredictable behavior lay the shadow of something deeper: Black Zetsu. But even deeper than that, the true mastermind remained Madara Uchiha. That much was clear.
Nagato leaned back in his chair, gazing at the low fog drifting outside his hidden base. The Akatsuki hideout had always been secret, but White Zetsu was the kind of being who could slip in and out without anyone noticing—not even someone as cautious as Nagato.
He sighed.
It wasn't that he feared White Zetsu. After all, without Madara, Black Zetsu was just a lump of black goo—literally. He couldn't fight, couldn't scheme, couldn't do anything on his own. Black Zetsu's strength came from Madara and Obito, and Madara was still very much alive, still pulling strings from behind the scenes.
But Madara... he was arrogant.
He wouldn't listen to anyone—not even Black Zetsu. That was both a problem and a blessing. A problem, because it meant Madara still saw Nagato as a pawn in his game. A blessing, because that same arrogance made him blind to certain possibilities.
If Nagato played his part right, Madara would continue to believe he was still in control.
Nagato tapped his fingers on the armrest. It was all about balance now. He needed to appear strong enough to be useful, but not so strong that Madara would see him as a threat. It was a tightrope walk, and the stakes couldn't be higher.
Before heading to Konoha—something he had already planned—Nagato had one more task. He needed to make sure that White Zetsu, and through him, Black Zetsu, didn't try to snoop around Akatsuki. The organization couldn't function with spies crawling through it like insects.
"If only I could control White Zetsu..." he muttered.
That would make things so much easier. With White Zetsu under his command, infiltration would be effortless. Monitoring enemies, eavesdropping on conversations, collecting intel—White Zetsu was perfect for all of it. Even the Byakugan of the Hyuga clan couldn't detect him. He was a phantom, a ghost no one could track. But unfortunately, he wasn't Nagato's phantom.
Nagato needed to send a message—not just to White Zetsu, but to Madara himself. He imagined it: Zetsu working for him, moving silently through enemy lands, feeding him intel, removing threats before they ever reached Akatsuki's door. He wouldn't need to stretch himself thin. He wouldn't have to rely on guesswork or second-hand reports.
White Zetsu was born for stealth. His ability to blend into the environment, to move through walls, to become the earth itself—there was nothing like it. Even the Hyuga clan's Byakugan couldn't see him. Not unless he chose to be seen.
But that was the dream. And right now, Nagato had to work with what he had.
He walked slowly back to his chair and sat down again. The chill in the cave seemed a little stronger now. Maybe it was the wind... or maybe it was the lingering feeling of being watched.
Nagato closed his eyes.
His next move would be Konoha. The village had changed since his youth, but its core remained the same. A symbol of power, of order—and of hypocrisy.
Madara had plans for it. So did Nagato.
But first, he had to make sure the shadows weren't watching too closely