Rumors swirled throughout the camp, and Ishiki Kujo listened for amusement only.
Still, he had a bad feeling it would once again swing around into anti-Uchiha sentiment. After all, an enraged Kumogakure would likely intensify its assault on Konoha.
And right now, the Uchiha—those who should be holding the line—had all been pulled back to the village.
If casualties began piling up, some were bound to harbor resentment.
Not everyone had lost family or comrades to Yugito Nii. For them, all they'd see was the Uchiha stirring up trouble, while others paid the price.
And if someone took advantage of that discontent to fan the flames, the reputation the Uchiha had earned on the front lines would be tainted.
Whoever devised this scheme clearly never intended for the Uchiha to survive.
But it wasn't Ishiki's problem. Right now, he had finally found a viable method to partially seal the Two-Tails.
"I'm done, hurry up—only two scrolls left!"
Before him stood Matatabi—towering, majestic, seething. Ishiki urged impatiently.
Beneath them lay a massive sealing array, a scaled-up version of a traditional chakra sealing formula. Closer inspection revealed portions of the array had been modified.
"Are you sure this will work? I've already expelled nearly ninety percent of my chakra," Matatabi growled, her voice restless, manic.
"You know how much these scrolls cost me? And you're still whining?" Ishiki shot back, eyeing the ten high-grade scrolls before him.
Eight were already full, brimming with immense chakra. If he could just seal the last two, Matatabi's reserves would be brought down to post–Highway Star levels—depleted enough to destabilize her massive physical form.
Matatabi grit her fangs. Watching one of her tails regenerate, she gave a resigned snarl and sliced it clean off.
"These are the last two. Any more, and I'll collapse," she hissed, tears almost forming in her burning eyes. Tearing off her own tails hurt like hell.
"Even if you could keep pulling them off, I'm out of scrolls." Ishiki swiftly sealed both severed tails, still crackling with violent chakra.
Initially, he considered using shadow clones, but inspiration struck: the Akatsuki had previously used partial Bijū remains. So he asked—could Matatabi channel her chakra into her own tails?
That's how they ended up here, with Matatabi yanking off her own tails for the sake of containment.
Diverting chakra was simple. But without a vessel, that chakra would either violently discharge or rapidly reabsorb into the host. Normal scrolls couldn't handle such instability.
That's when Ishiki had the idea—use the tails as vessels.
Matatabi channeled her chakra into the tails, severed them, and Ishiki sealed them. The hard part was getting her to regrow the tails quickly.
Case in point: Gyūki's broken horn had never grown back after being sealed. But Kurama, even after being devoured by the Gold and Silver Brothers, never visibly lost any flesh.
The logic of Bijū regeneration was an enigma—but Ishiki and Matatabi eventually discovered a method: Hamon.
After Matatabi tore off a tail, Ishiki used Hamon to inject life energy into the wound, prompting the regeneration of a new tail.
He didn't fully understand the mechanics, but he suspected it might relate to the mythical Yin-Yang Release.
He planned to experiment further with a sealed portion of Matatabi's chakra.
"Try compressing your chakra now—see if you can shrink," Ishiki wiped sweat from his brow and activated the modified array beneath her.
Originally a chakra-sealing formula, he'd rewritten it into a chakra-suppression array—far more fitting.
Experiencing Bijū-level chakra up close gave Ishiki new perspective. He wasn't on their level. Not even close.
And this was just the Two-Tails. The Nine-Tails? Unfathomable. That chakra was an ocean—too vast to imagine.
Matatabi grunted and focused, following Ishiki's instruction to compress her chakra.
They'd tested the theory before, back when she was weakened by Highway Star. It had worked in theory—now was the real trial.
Her body began to shrink.
Smaller.
Smaller.
Until she stood just under waist-high—then her eyes snapped open.
"Can't go any smaller?" Ishiki asked, frowning at the not-quite-cute but weirdly majestic oversized feline.
He preferred adorable over handsome.
"Nope. This is the most stable form I can hold without risking expansion. Even if my chakra increases a bit, I won't balloon back up," Matatabi replied. "If you don't want to use my chakra, just say so. I'll try shrinking more."
"Don't. This is fine." Ishiki glanced over at the ten sealed scrolls. "You got space to store these?"
"Just stash them in the President's Room. I marked each scroll—I can unseal them anytime I need to." Matatabi said it casually, but even she had to admit—this arrangement showed Ishiki's trust.
He was unlike any human she'd ever met. So evil. So manipulative.
He knew exactly how to exploit her weaknesses.
Against someone like him, she had no resistance.
No defense.
Damn that Uchi—no. Damn that Kujo bastard!
Unaware of her thoughts, Ishiki nodded and picked up a scroll. "I'll hold onto this one."
"Whatever. Just remember to restock my snacks. The fridge and pantry are almost empty. I'm heading back."
Back to that damned cursed room—that gilded prison Kujo Ishiki had built for her. That devil!
Matatabi, feigning indifference, swiped the remaining scrolls into the red gem embedded in President's back. Then she dove into the gemstone chamber herself.
Ishiki could see inside. Matatabi, now back in her room, casually opened the cupboard, grabbed snacks, jumped onto the couch, and turned on the TV.
There were plenty of discs in the President's Room. She navigated to her favorite anime and froze in place.
Ishiki watched her, unblinking.
Lazy creature. She was turning into a full-blown shut-in. She could lie there for hours without moving. Pathetic.
He stored away the sealed Bijū chakra scrolls and kicked President lightly. "Let's go."
Every damn one of them acted like this.