Interlude: Black Zetsu

"Really... I didn't expect that."

Sarutobi Sasuke muttered to himself, took the warm towel handed to him by a staff member, and vigorously wiped his face.

The pastels and shadows used to create a sickly appearance were wiped away, revealing his original young and handsome face.

The suffocating atmosphere on stage gradually dissipated, but the audience's desperate pleas still seemed to linger in their ears.

When on stage, he had to be completely immersed in the role of Taira no Shigemori, who knew he was nearing the end of his life, was filled with endless worries, yet still had to maintain his Taira no Shigemori to the very end.

He tried his best to understand and present every line, every glance, and every difficult breath.

But when the cheers from the audience surged forth like a tidal wave, for a fleeting moment, Sarutobi Sasuke felt the line between himself Taira no Shigemori blurred.

He almost forgot that he was just acting, as if he were really lying on a sickbed in that era, listening to the pleas and lamentations from strangers in "future times," and a complex and indescribable sorrow welled up in his heart.

If Shigemori could really hear this, what would he think?

No, I can't think about it anymore.

Sarutobi Sasuke shook his head.

He is Ninja of the Sarutobi Clan, a young and promising talent destined to succeed as Clan Head, not Taira no Shigemori.

That man's tragic fate is a thing of the past, long gone and unchangeable.

Don't worry, it's just a story.

Just then, someone patted him hard on the shoulder from behind, and a familiar voice rang out with genuine cheerfulness. "Congratulations on wrapping up filming! You've worked hard, Sasuke! You acted really well! I almost cried during the last scene!"

Sarutobi Sasuke felt a weight on his shoulder; it was Uchiha Izuna, who had put his arm around his shoulder with a grin, his bright black eyes full of admiration.

"Th-thank you," Sarutobi Sasuke responded instinctively.

"What are you thanking me for! You acted so well!" Izuna shook his shoulder vigorously and began to talk non-stop, "You have no idea, the audience below the stage, wow, their reaction! I was standing on the side holding the Biwa and I was startled! It shows that everyone was completely drawn in! The character of Shigemori was brought to life, really brought to life! From now on, when people mention Taira no Shigemori, the first thing that will come to mind will definitely be your appearance today!"

His eyes lit up as he planned, "After the whole performance, we have to celebrate! It's on me! Where do you want to eat? Barbecue? Sushi? I wonder if there are any good restaurants in the Capital of the Land of Fire."

Listening to Izuna enthusiastically planning what to do after the stage performance, Sarutobi Sasuke.

Taira no Shigemori is Taira no Shigemori; he has his era, his family, his inescapable fate, and his tragic choices.

And I am Sarutobi Sasuke.

Our souls briefly intersected at a particular moment; I became him and told his story, nothing more.

The story ends, the actors remove their makeup, and life goes on.

"Izuna," he said, "Thank you."

Izuna was taken aback by Sarutobi Sasuke's sudden thanks, his bright smile faltering for a moment. He blinked and asked, "Thank you for what?"

Sarutobi Sasuke looked at his expression, which showed he was completely unaware of what he had done, and the complex emotions he felt suddenly vanished.

He chuckled to himself.

For this guy, this was probably just one of his countless "interesting ideas" that was successfully implemented; he wouldn't even consider what the process meant for the people involved.

"You... well, never mind." Sarutobi Sasuke shook his head, offering no further explanation.

Some things are better left unsaid; saying them aloud only makes them seem pretentious.

He patted Izuna's hand, which was still on his shoulder, and turned to walk towards the dressing room, intending to go to the audience seats to watch the other performers.

"Huh? Why did you leave?" Izuna looked at his retreating figure, a little confused, and muttered, "It's always puzzling when someone only says half of what they mean..."

Just then, Tobirama Senju passed by, holding a scroll in his hand, his brows furrowed slightly as usual, as if he were checking something.

Izuna's eyes lit up, and he immediately leaned over, pointing in the direction Sarutobi Sasuke had left. "Tobirama! Tobirama! Did you see that? Sasuke suddenly thanked me, and then left without saying why! What happened to him? Was he exhausted?"

Tobirama Senju, then quickened his pace, as if lingering even a second longer would invite some trouble, and quickly disappeared into the passageway leading to the other side of the stage.

Izuna: "...?"

He stood there alone, looking in the direction Sarutobi Sasuke had left, then at the passage Tobirama had disappeared, his handsome face filled with deep confusion.

"No..." He scratched his head, "One by one... they're all starting to dislike me, right? What did I do?"

He reflected on his words and actions just now.

Warm congratulations, sincere praise, and enthusiastic plans for a celebration...

No problem?

What a normal and loving act!

Was I too noisy? Or was my smile not genuine enough?

Izuna touched his chin, momentarily lost in self-doubt.

But this dilemma only lasted for about three seconds before disappearing.

"Forget it, never mind!"

The stage lights dimmed temporarily, the melodious music faded, the Genjutsu Barrier dissipated, and the clear sky was revealed.

This was originally intended as an intermission for the actors to rest and for the audience to catch their breath.

However, not a single person in the densely packed crowd below the stage left.

The nobles who had been whispering and harboring various thoughts earlier now remained silent. Even the most discerning musicians forgot to leave, gathering in small groups in a corner, lowering their voices, their faces showing barely concealed excitement and confusion as they discussed something intensely.

In this era of limited entertainment, people have only a handful of ways to pass the time.

Only nobles and refined scholars could appreciate Waka, Noh drama that was both grand and slow-paced, and song and dance performances that were elaborate yet formulaic.

If there are any other forms of entertainment, they are street performances, fragmented narratives by Biwa Hōshi, and brief but noisy performances during festivals.

They had never seen such a "drama" before.

Unlike any existing narrative form, its story is simple and interesting, with a clear narrative, no obscure words or sentences, and no deliberately lengthened singing segments to match the elaborately dressed dancers.

Only stories, purely stories about people.

The characters in the play are so vivid, it's as if they were living right next to you.

Their joys and sorrows, their struggles and choices, can so easily move people's hearts, making onlookers smile knowingly at times, hold their breath in awe at others, feel indignant at others, and even shed tears at others.

What surprised and even shocked them even more was the music that constantly surrounded the story.

In their understanding, music is more about Accompaniment and rhythm, and the connection between singing segments.

But Izuna's soundtrack is completely different.

It seems to be everywhere, cleverly hidden behind the story, as natural as breathing.

When children play, the light and lively melody seems to bring the scent of sunshine and green grass to mind.

When Tokuko poured out her sorrows, the music transformed into a gentle, lonely stream under the moonlight.

Taikenmon sounded, the strings of the zither erupted with a fierce, metallic clang, stirring the blood and making one's blood boil.

In the final moments of Shigemori's life, the music gradually faded away.

The music almost became a direct reflection of the characters' inner world, conveying those moving emotions more profoundly than any dialogue.

Even those old-fashioned Heikyoku, under Izuna's new arrangement and emotional infusion, have been given a completely different vitality, becoming so heart-wrenching and so infectious.

"So... music can be used like this?" A middle-aged musician stroked his beard, his eyes filled with disbelief. "The Ninja's zither music seemed to be everywhere... as if it had coated the entire story with an invisible layer of color and warmth."

"It's more than just color and temperature!" The younger musician next to him gestured excitedly, "That section at Taikenmon, the drumbeats are like heartbeats! And the part where Shigemori is ill... My God, listening to that music, I felt a tightness in my chest, and I couldn't breathe!"

"And those melodies that appear in ordinary days, they sound simple, but every time they play, it's like... it's like they can instantly pull you back to that scene."

"Yes, yes! And I never knew the Biwa could produce such a tone! That... I can't quite describe it! It's truly amazing!"

The young people were engaged in heated discussions, while the elders knew that they had already lost the battle.

An elderly musician who was blind sat in the very center of the front row.

Because he was blind, his hearing was honed to be more acute than that of ordinary people, and his understanding of music was more profound and pure.

He dedicated his life to the pursuit of music, listening to countless court music, Shrine melodies, and folk tunes, and also taught many disciples.

Tradition holds an almost sacred place in his heart, and it is precisely because of this that the impact on him is most intense when Izuna's completely unconventional yet so moving musical presentation appears.

He "looked" toward the stage, and although there was only eternal darkness before him, his gaze seemed to penetrate that darkness and see the unprecedentedly magnificent scene constructed from musical notes.

He can hear the shifting light and shadow, the ebb and flow of the characters' emotions, and the unfolding of the story.

This music is no longer merely a vehicle for Accompaniment or vocals; it is itself a narrative, an emotion, a language that can directly communicate with the soul.

Now, in the old musician's mind, the only possible basis for questioning this Ninja musician might be his unconventional fingering and musical arrangement.

But at this moment, any doubts about "incorrect fingering" or "not in accordance with ancient rules" seem so pale, powerless, and ridiculous in the face of this grand, exquisite, and emotionally charged overall narrative and soundtrack.

Why is this happening?

How could a Ninja create such mind-blowing yet deeply moving music?

If Izuna could hear the old musician's inner thoughts, he would probably burst into wild laughter.

Haha! I'm a music student! I remember so many songs!

In his memory, the vast sea of classical music, pop hits, movie scores, and even those exhilarating anime songs—which one of them doesn't completely dominate the music of this era?

Even without any complicated arrangements, he could play these tunes from memory for three days and three nights without repeating a single one!

There are so many musical options that fit this story; the only problem is choosing the one that best suits it.

But at this moment, Izuna was unaware that he had unintentionally made Madara a little embarrassed.

He was looking down, intently moving his fingers and wrists.

His slender fingers pressed lightly in the air, making a soft cracking sound from his knuckles. His wrists moved nimbly from side to side, and he would occasionally pinch the slightly sore web of his hand and palm.

My mind was completely occupied with the upcoming music arrangements.

"... Hmm, let's slow down for a bit, but not too much, we need to keep people on edge..." He muttered to himself, his brows furrowed, completely absorbed in his thoughts, unaware that Madara had walked up to him.

Madara Uchiha looked at his younger brother, who was so focused that he almost forgot himself, and swallowed back the words that were on the tip of his tongue.

He had originally intended to praise and encourage his younger brother, but seeing that Izuna hadn't noticed him at all, Madara felt... a little uneasy.

The backstage area was quiet; even the hushed conversations ceased.

Madara turned his face expressionlessly, his gaze precisely catching Hashirama Senju hiding behind the crowd, trying hard to suppress his laughter.

Hashirama saw Madara looking over, he immediately tried to put on a serious expression, but his slightly twitching lips and gleaming eyes completely betrayed him.

Ban wanted to encourage his younger brother, but was completely ignored, haha!

A vein bulged on Ban's forehead.

The nearby Ninjas, whether from the Uchiha or other families, all tacitly averted their gaze.

Some looked up to study the white clouds in the sky, some looked down to carefully straighten their clothes, which they had already straightened, and some pretended to discuss some serious issues with their companions, but their smiles were a little strained.

Very good.

Madara said nothing, but strode through the crowd and grabbed Hashirama's wrist before Hashirama could react.

"Huh? Madara? Wait a minute--!" Hashirama was taken aback.

Ban didn't give him a chance to speak, grabbing him and running towards the outskirts of the city at such a speed that it created a gust of wind.

"Since we can't use Ninjutsu, let's have a proper exchange using Taijutsu, Hashirama!"

"No... wait! Madara! Now? The intermission isn't over yet! The next scene is about to begin--" Hashirama tried to struggle, but Madara's hand was like an iron clamp.

The two figures quickly disappeared, leaving only Hashirama's increasingly distant protests.

Startled by the commotion, Izuna finally snapped out of his musical reverie, looking up blankly at Madara and Hashirama's disappearing figures. "Huh? Where are they going? The next scene is about to begin."

The surrounding Production Crew members. "..."

Everyone looked at each other, and finally someone couldn't help but burst out laughing, which then triggered a chorus of suppressed, good-natured chuckles.

"Ahem, um... Lord Izuna, it's almost time." The Ninja in charge of the script supervision reminded him, barely suppressing a laugh.

"Oh, right!" Izuna slapped his forehead, immediately forgetting about Madara and Hashirama's sudden departure.

He picked up the Biwa, took a deep breath, and his calm and focused expression returned. "All units, prepare! Lights! Genjutsu! Actors, take your positions!"

With his command, the props were in place, the Genjutsu Barrier was restored, and the melodious prelude of the Biwa flowed out, instantly pulling the audience back to the Taira world, which was in turmoil after losing its pillar.

What Izuna didn't notice was that while he was focused on the stage and temporarily closed the Shitty Map navigation interface, in an inconspicuous corner, a blurry black figure, like ink dripping into clear water, silently entered the body of a Senju Clan youth.

The young man merely shook his head slightly, as if momentarily dazed, before returning to normal and continuing to immerse himself in his role, unnoticed by anyone.

Not far away, Tobirama Senju Roster, suddenly frowned slightly. His keen senses allowed him to catch a fleeting glimpse of a chilling aura.

His sharp gaze swept quickly across the audience and backstage, but that aura vanished too quickly, and there were too many people present, their auras mixed together.

He pondered for a moment, then attributed it to the natural scent emanating from some Ninja lurking among the crowd, either from another faction or someone who had not joined Konoha.

After all, in such a mixed environment, it's not surprising to find Ninjas of unknown identity.

Besides, with so many Konoha Ninjas, nothing bad will happen no matter what; those people aren't that stupid.

With that in mind, Tobirama suppressed his doubts for the time being and focused on the work at hand.

After the first act ended smoothly following the intermission, Izuna took advantage of the brief break between scenes to habitually open the "Shitty Map" interface again to check on the actors' condition. His gaze inadvertently swept over the green dotted area representing his own team.

One of the points of light representing the Senju clan went black.

He swiped his finger, zoomed in on the area, and locked onto the point of light.

A message appeared next to the point of light that made his eye twitch.

[Senju Hideki (Black Zetsu)]

Izuna frowned.

Black Zetsu... this guy, he really couldn't resist, taking advantage of the crowd to sneak in and possess someone?

The chosen one was a Chunin, Strength was not outstanding and whose identity was not central, making him unlikely to attract attention, which was in line with his usual insidious and cautious style.

Izuna did not immediately make a fuss.

There's no need to alert them. Black Zetsu currently possessing him simply to observe the performance up close, assess its impact, and look for potential loopholes.

Taking any rash action before it takes further steps could lead to chaos.

He silently memorized the name "Senju Hideki" and its approximate location, then casually closed the map interface and continued playing.