White clouds drifted slowly across the azure sky, and a breeze swept over Hokage Rock, carrying away a little dust.
At some point, a figure in a black robe had appeared there, standing atop Hokage Rock and looking down over all of Konoha.
"My plan shouldn't have been discovered yet, should it?"
An icy voice rang out. From the front, a mask concealed the figure's true appearance, leaving only one eye exposed.
"There have just been a few complications."
As he gazed down at the familiar village below, the black-clad man's exposed eye was cold and merciless.
"Namikaze Sui, was it?"
"Then you can perish along with the others in the coming feast of death!"
A breeze swept past, and his figure vanished.
When he reappeared, he was already in Konoha's Cemetery. He lowered his head to the gravestone before him, his exposed eye growing colder still.
He slowly bent down and picked up the flowers laid before the gravestone. Suddenly, he clenched his hand. The stems snapped, and petals scattered, fluttering to the ground.
Just then, his body jolted, and he turned around.
"Quite a few people have died in Konoha over the years!"
An aged voice sounded amid coughing. A figure leaning on a cane slowly approached and stopped behind the black-clad man.
"I'm sorry to make you step forward and do this at the very end of your life."
The black-clad man spoke coldly.
He seemed to show no respect whatsoever for the old man before him.
"As long as your plan proceeds smoothly. He's just some wet-behind-the-ears brat. I can still handle him."
The old man smiled faintly.
"Are those eyes still working well?"
The black-clad man suddenly fixed his gaze on the old man's eyes. They were blood-red Sharingan, with three tomoe spinning within them.