Iwagakure's victory banquet was as lively as a boiling pot about to explode.
Drunken Stone Village ninja were sprawled everywhere, their faces flushed red. They tossed their grease-stained military coats onto the ground and lay there babbling nonsense.
The stench of cheap liquor, charred beast meat, and the sour sweat left behind by years of training was enough to make anyone sneeze.
Yoru sat atop a marble platform, with a chipped porcelain bowl before him containing half a bowl of cold, bitter tea.
A dark brown ring of tea stains clung to the bowl's inner wall, impossible to scrape away.
He idly traced the rim with a finger, his Mangekyō Sharingan fixed on the moon Orochimaru had just repaired. A vicious, chilling smirk hung at the corner of his lips.
"Orochimaru, the moon's patched up nice and solid, right?"
Without even turning his head, he called out to Orochimaru, who was beside him shaking a test tube.
Orochimaru was busy extracting genes from that pile of White Zetsu flesh. His white lab coat was stained with patches of blackened blood.
Hearing Yoru's question, the pervert gave two sinister chuckles, his tongue sliding over his bluish lips.
"Lord Yoru, it's covered in Iwagakure's sealing chains."
"Even if that old hag Kaguya wants to come out, she'll have to shed three layers of skin first. Hehehe."
Orochimaru tucked the syringe of dark red liquid into his coat with practiced ease, looking every bit like someone used to sneaking around and doing shady business.
Naruto was drunk below, currently pinning Sasuke beneath him and forcing him to call him big brother.
The collar of his orange tracksuit had been pulled loose, exposing his sweat-beaded neck.
Sasuke's face was as black as a lump of coal freshly dug from a mine. He struggled desperately,