"Oh?"

"Sand Village demanded that Pakura's body be returned afterwards?"

In the Mizukage's office, Obito glanced at the reply letter from Sunagakure in his hand, smirked, and tossed the scroll back to Yagura.

"Promise them."

A few days later, in the Land of Water, a secluded Mist Valley became the stage for betrayal.

On the mountains flanking the valley, Mist-nin crouched in formation, their ambush ready.

The valley below was the only path leading directly to Kirigakure.

Through the thick, rolling mist, a lone kunoichi approached, a thick woman with a Sand forehead protector.

She wore a black, backless battle outfit that hugged her curves, her posture confident yet elegant. Her hair was tied up in a neat bun, her mature and beautiful face radiating quiet strength. Pakura of the Scorch Release.

A kind-looking Mist ninja stepped forward, smiling politely.

"Pakura-sama, welcome. It's an honor to finally meet you."

He approached her with an exaggerated warmth.

"The Mist is quite thick...you'll need a guide."

Pakura hesitated for a second, a flicker of doubt in her eyes, but nodded.

"Thank you for your hard work. But it's just a valley I doubt I'll get lost."

"Well, if you say so."

The Mist ninja smiled, stepped aside, and gestured respectfully.

"Then, please proceed."

"Hmm."

Pakura walked ahead, unaware of the trap waiting for her. After all, this mission came directly from the Fourth Kazekage.

Confidential, solo, and supposedly simple, just deliver an armistice agreement. There was no reason to suspect foul play.

But after a few steps, a sharp pain exploded in her lower back.

Her eyes widened.

She twisted her head slightly to see the same smiling Mist ninja stabbing her with a kunai.

"You… wha… why…?"

The man's face twisted into a grimace, his voice turning cold.

"Feel the pain of those our Mist suffered… because of you."

He yanked the kunai free and leapt back. Pakura stumbled and fell to the ground, paralyzed.

"…Poison…?" she gasped, realizing she couldn't move.

Above, a storm of kunai rained down from both sides of the valley, clattering and tearing into her body.

Blood pooled beneath her as her vision blurred.

Through the haze, a familiar Mist shinobi approached and crouched, his voice like venom.

"Don't misunderstand. Killing you won't erase the hatred our village bears."

"Your death… is just a small comfort. And the people who sent you here? They probably feel the same."

But just then another voice sounded completely different from before.

"Yo~, beautiful lady. Looks like you need a hand."

Pakura's fading vision caught a pair of glowing red eyes. Her consciousness slipped into darkness.

"Wow, you really are in bad shape… They really did you dirty, huh? Talk about being loyal in the ninja world."

Obito squatted next to Pakura's bleeding form. He slipped an Item into her mouth, yanked out the kunai, and placed a hand on her wounds, green chakra flaring to life.

"Damn. Poisoned too? Typical."

Around them, every Mist-nin including the one who stabbed her stood frozen, faces blank, bodies still.

Obito finished his healing, giving the curvy view in front of him an appreciative glance.

"Tsk. Such a perfectly shaped ass… what a waste not to mold it."

He grinned, then called out,

"White Zetsu, your turn."

From the ground, White Zetsu emerged like a sprouting mushroom.

"Leave it to me."

After siphoning a bit of Pakura's chakra, Zetsu's body warped and reshaped. Within moments, an exact copy of Pakura lay in the bloodstained dirt, chakra signature and all.

Obito stored the real Pakura in his Kamui space, leaving the clone in her place.

"Alright, to make this believable, I'll stab you a couple more times… okay, Zetsu?"

He smiled and casually stabbed the clone.

"Hey, hey! Captain! Stop stabbing me! This clone will die if you overdo it! Are you… are you doing this for revenge or something?"

"Oh, come on. Why would I have any revenge against you?" Obito said innocently.

"Captain… I know I messed up keeping an eye on Tobi, which somehow led to him turning gay… but is this necessary?! You've been doing this kind of thing nonstop for days!"

"Where's the justice? Where's the kindness?! I demand equality!"

Obito blinked, stunned.

"…Where the fuck did you even learn that crap?"

Zetsu flailed his arms.

"I want answers!"

Obito sighed and gave him one last poke.

"Fine, fine. Last time."

With the scene perfectly staged and Zetsu in position, Obito vanished into Kamui space, leaving behind a valley soaked in betrayal.

With Obito gone, the Mist-nin in the valley snapped out of their trance as if nothing had happened.

They glanced at the "lifeless" body lying in the blood-soaked dirt and exchanged relieved looks.

Night fell.

Far away, in the Land of Snow, warm light spilled across a cozy fortress room.

On the bed lay a woman, her chest rising and falling slowly beneath a quilt, the curve of her breasts making the blanket arch in a graceful arc.

"Hmm…"

Pakura's eyelashes trembled as she slowly opened her eyes, staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling. Her gaze was hazy, lost.

"Awake?"

The calm voice drifted from somewhere nearby. Pakura turned her head sluggishly toward the sound.

A figure sat in a chair by the wall, casually holding a book. The cover was partially hidden, but the title was unmistakable…

"Make-Out Paradise."

Her eyes traced upward to the man's face: a white mask. And behind it... scarlet Sharingan eyes, locking with hers.

The memory of her death flashed in her mind like a blade.

"Huh—!"

Pakura jerked upright, the quilt sliding off her in one smooth motion. Her bare body was exposed, pale skin gleaming in the warm light.

Obito's gaze, ever so calm, drifted over her curves with silent appreciation.

Pakura's hand shot up to clutch her head as a wave of dizziness hit, her memories slowly aligning with reality.

After a few seconds, she lowered her hand and froze, her eyes drifting to her own naked body.

"…My clothes…"

"I took them off," Obito replied casually, turning a page of his book as if nothing were unusual.

"They were soaked in blood. Had to go."

His tone was the picture of a calm, polite gentleman...if you ignored the fact that his Sharingan had already taken in everything.

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