Three Years Ago
"Check it out!" Sasori's grin was infectious. "First combat mecha based on your specs—Arthur! Full alloy frame, hydraulic actuators, seventy-five percent chakra efficiency!"
He slapped the massive shoulder plate. CLANG.
"Look at this sword! This shield! Two tons of force per arm. Speed matches a standard jōnin." Sasori's eyes gleamed. "Pretty damn good, right?"
Jinghang circled the towering machine. Ran his hand along the plating. The metal sang under his touch.
"Not bad." He nodded slowly. "If this thing crouched in a bush—ahem—I mean, keep developing this. The puppet arts are about to get interesting."
"I've got so many ideas!" Sasori was practically vibrating. "Aerial units. Aquatic models. I can—"
"Do it." Jinghang's smile was genuine. "All of it. Village treasury's behind you. Whatever you need."
"Thanks." Sasori's voice softened. Then his confidence returned. "With this? Nothing in the world can touch my mechs. Except maybe your Iron Sand. Or Rasa's gold."
Both materials were nightmares for mechs. Fine metal particles that could infiltrate joints, grind gears to dust from the inside. But Jinghang and Rasa were Sunagakure's top two. Not exactly enemies.
Jinghang's expression shifted. Serious now.
"You're wrong."
Sasori blinked. "What?"
"Two things can wreck your mechs. First—Wood Release."
"Extinct. Yeah. Hashirama's dead. Only Nawaki has it now, and his version's weak. Not a real threat." Jinghang paused. "The second one, though..."
"The Sharingan."
"The Uchiha clan's massive," Jinghang continued. "Anyone with three tomoe can slow your perception to a crawl. They'll see every flaw in your design. Predict every move. Counter before you finish the attack."
Sasori's hand moved to his vest. Pulled out a notebook.
"And if they have a Mangekyō?" Jinghang's tone darkened. "Layered genjutsu. Traps within traps. Amaterasu—black flames that burn anything, can't be extinguished until the target's ash. Tsukuyomi—"
He listed every technique he knew.
Sasori wrote. And wrote.
His expression grew grim.
"Never thought I'd actually use this one."
Sasori's hand moved in a blur. The scroll unfurled—massive, with his name written in bold strokes across the center.
What emerged was massive.
Seven meters long. Purple carapace with golden undertones. Coarse bristles covering segmented armor. Pincers the size of a man's torso—serrated, gleaming. And the tail—god, that tail—curved overhead, stinger half a meter long, catching sunlight like a blade.
Six compound eyes. All fixed forward.
Danzō's laugh was cold.
"Nice craftsmanship. Might fetch a decent price at market." He tapped his bandaged eye. "But against this? Just a bigger toy."
Ten years. He'd mastered Kagami's eye. Understood every nuance. This puppet—impressive as it was—didn't stand a chance.
Sasori's hand rested on the scorpion's head. Almost gentle.
"You're wrong about something, old man." His voice was quiet. "I didn't make this. It was born this way."
Danzō's smirk faltered.
"Meet Elder Chii. Of Poison Enemy Mountain."
Real. The thing was real.
"Poison Enemy Mountain's scorpions aren't like other summons," Sasori continued. "Every thousand years, they face a trial. The Ten Thousand Poisons Tribulation. Survive, become a sage. Fail..." He patted the carapace. "Well."
"Only one scorpion in history ever passed. Chii here?" Sasori's smile was sad. "Had ambition. Tried anyway."
His hand found a hidden mechanism. The back split—organic plating separating with a wet crack.
Sasori vanished inside.
For a moment, nothing.
The scorpion moved.
Pincers snapped. Tail whipped. Six eyes locked onto Danzō with intelligence.
"Come on, old bastard." Sasori's voice echoed from within. "Let me show you what Poison Enemy Mountain can do."
Danzō's eyes closed.
Then the Sharingan snapped open. Blood welled at the corner—thick, dark—trailing down his cheek like tears.
"As long as you use your eyes to see this world—"
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"—you can't escape."
"Mirror Flower, Water Moon."
Reality Shattered
The air twisted.
Space folded in on itself. Colors bled. The desert melted—
Sasori's vision cleared.
Ancient battlefield. Wind howling through broken armor. Sand mixed with rust. Swords jutting from the ground like grave markers. The sky was wrong—too dark, sun too bright, shadows falling at impossible angles.
"Looking for me?"
The voice was everywhere.
Sasori's six eyes tracked upward.
Danzō stood against the sun. But massive—sixty feet tall, maybe more. His body flickered. Translucent. Like a mirage given form.
"Tch." Sasori's voice was steady. "Genjutsu? That's it?"
Danzō's giant form smiled.
"Genjutsu?" His laughter rolled like thunder. "Oh, kid."
"It's never that simple."
[Technical Note: Arthur = early prototype establishing mecha evolution. Chii = biological mecha, real corpse processed into weapon. Tribulation lore = mystical worldbuilding. Mirror Flower Water Moon = Mangekyō ability, reality-warping genjutsu. Sasori's dismissal = confidence before the trap closes.]
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