223 I Read A Lot!
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Koushin, seeing the turmoil in Madara, couldn't resist a gentle jibe, "You get it now, Dara-chan?"
Madara's eyes, previously aflame with anger, now radiated a different emotion—betrayal. His gaze, once unyielding, was locked onto Black Zetsu. The realization that he'd been deceived not once, but twice, visibly unsettled the formidable Uchiha.
"That is impossible, I read the Uchiha Tablet!" His voice was an anguished growl, betraying the pain of betrayal he felt.
Koushin couldn't help but chuckle at Madara's naivety, the corners of his mouth curling up in amusement. "Written by whom?" he quipped, pausing for a beat. "Altered by your very 'will'?" His tone dripped with irony, emphasizing the word 'will' with a mocking lilt.
Black Zetsu hissed, the inky darkness of its form writhing more violently against the arcane barrier that held it captive. "How do you know so much?" It spat the words out, a serpentine malevolence evident in its voice.
Koushin leaned forward slightly and simply said, "I read a lot," a smirk playing on his lips, giving the sentiment a mischievous air.
Eyes rolled collectively among the shinobi at Koushin's all-too-familiar retort. Every time a question arose about the origins of his knowledge, his answer was a predictable, "I read a lot." But this was no ordinary revelation, and many found it hard to swallow that mere 'reading' could unveil such profound secrets. Sai raised an eyebrow, his eyes darting to Koushin in mild skepticism. Even Naruto, who had witnessed Koushin's wit countless times, shot him a quizzical look.
Temari crossed her arms, murmuring just loud enough for those closest to her to hear, "All this time, I thought he was just an insufferable flirt. Now he's an insufferable know-it-all?"
Shikamaru sighed, scratching the back of his head. "Sounds about right for him."
Koushin seemed unfazed by the collective incredulity of his allies, reveling in the chaos his revelations had sewn. His eyes sparkled mischievously as he quipped, "Knowledge is power, and I am quite... powerful, no?"
Koushin's gaze, unwavering and sharp, remained fixed on Black Zetsu. The dark entity, imprisoned momentarily by intricate seals of lightning glyphs, vibrated with palpable malevolence. It seemed to be studying the barriers, attempting to discern their nature.
Deep down, Koushin knew he couldn't keep this dark manifestation confined for long. It was ancient—a being that had witnessed and manipulated events over millennia. Koushin's seals were intricate, yes, but the intricacies of time and experience were on Black Zetsu's side.
Black Zetsu's form began phasing once more, more rapidly this time. And then, like smoke being carried away by a gust of wind, it vanished. The sudden void left in its wake was palpable—a hole in reality where an embodiment of pure evil had just stood.
Silence pervaded the battlefield for a heartbeat.
Koushin looked at the spot where Black Zetsu had been confined, a contemplative frown marring his features. "That fucker's more slippery than an eel in an oil spill."
Itachi's form seemed to grow taller in the moon's silvery light, his RinneSharingan a formidable vortex of crimson and black. Every line on his face was sharp, every muscle taut with tension. "Ancient tales or new," he rasped, "none of it matters. My war began for one reason alone." His gaze, laden with profound emotion, swept over the assembled shinobi. Amongst them, he sought the one who took from him the most cherished bond—his brother, Sasuke.
A ripple of unease coursed through the ranks. Itachi's intent was clear. Vengeance was in the air, palpable, and laden with the weight of years of brotherly love, conflict, and sacrifice. The power he exuded wasn't just from his awakened ocular prowess; it was the raw, fervent drive to seek retribution for the fallen.
Yet, amidst the gravity of the moment, Koushin's chuckle pierced the atmosphere. It was soft, almost inaudible, but it echoed like a bell in the quiet of the night.
Itachi's eyes darted to him, narrowing. Before he could process Koushin's inexplicable amusement, a chilling presence enveloped him. Shadows slithered up from the ground, creeping onto him, aiming to shackle his very soul. Black Zetsu, the embodiment of malevolent cunning, had made its move.
"You dare wield my mother's eyes?" The voice was deep, sinuous, laced with a venom that made even the bravest shiver. Black Zetsu's form, like tendrils of oppressive night, began to merge with Itachi, seeking dominance over the formidable Uchiha.
Itachi's body twitched violently, eyes wide in surprise, then narrowing in fierce resistance. There was a frenetic dance of wills, a silent but violent struggle between the relentless force of Black Zetsu and the indomitable spirit of Itachi Uchiha.
The battleground became a canvas of shifting energies. Itachi's chakra, a vibrant crimson, clashed against the inky abyss of Black Zetsu, creating a maelstrom of swirling energy around them. Every now and then, the crimson would surge, indicating Itachi's moments of overpowering the dark entity, but then the abyss would push back, drowning the vibrant hue in its oppressive grasp.
Koushin, watching the battle of wills unfold before him, realized that Itachi's strength was being sapped with every passing moment. As much as he'd relish the opportunity to see the Uchiha humbled, the prospect of Kaguya's resurrection was a gamble they couldn't afford.
His eyes flitted to the intertwined forms of Black Zetsu and Itachi. The swirling energies seemed almost hypnotic, but there was an unmistakable edge of desperation to them, suggesting that Itachi was not entirely subdued.
For a heartbeat, the world around them seemed to still as Itachi's voice—laden with unexpected vulnerability—whispered through the battleground, "Can you really do it?"
Black Zetsu, seizing this fleeting moment of advantage, responded with a dark promise: "I can."
With those chilling words, Itachi's resistance, which had been a beacon of fiery defiance, began to wane, his spirit now teetering on the edge of succumbing to Black Zetsu's lure. Koushin's instincts screamed at him to intervene.
"Shit! Attack him!" Without hesitation, Koushin propelled himself forward, his footsteps leaving faint electric trails in his wake.
His eyes, usually playful, were now narrowed slits of fierce determination. As he lunged forward, the ambient energy around him crystallized into solid form, encasing his hands. Twin gauntlets, dark as the void of a moonless night, emerged. Their surfaces, sleek and seamless, were interrupted only by the presence of crimson gemstones, which seemed to pulse with an inner fire. These gemstones, set in a pattern that evoked images of ancient and forbidden power, seemed to be the source of the gauntlets' latent energy.
The contrast of the jet-black gauntlets and the fiery stones was a sight to behold. As Koushin charged, the gauntlets seemed to amplify his natural energy, the gemstones pulsing in time with his heartbeat, their glow growing ever brighter.
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