"Fortunately, that dumb woman never knew what she was doing."
Isshiki Ōtsutsuki chuckled quietly to himself. He stood on the edge of a crumbling cliff, wind tugging lightly at the tattered hem of his worn robe, his golden, utterly cold eyes staring off into the distant horizon. The corners of his mouth curled upward with dry amusement.
"She even created two Ōtsutsuki using her own power... and they betrayed her."
The memory still brought him deep satisfaction, even after all this time. When Isshiki had first heard the news—a whisper carried through time by informants scattered across dimensions—he hadn't been able to contain his glee at all. He had thrown his head back and shouted triumphantly to the empty skies.
"There really is justice in this cursed universe!" he had roared that day.
The irony of it all still tickled him whenever he thought about it. Kaguya, foolish as ever, had somehow stumbled blindly into both power and prestige, only to be stabbed directly in the back by her own creations. Her own sons.
If she had possessed any real intelligence at all, she would have simply remained quiet after sealing him away, trained in secret, consumed more chakra fruits from this Earth—this incredibly fertile, perfectly ripened planet. If she had just done that, she might have become truly invincible. Unstoppable.
Isshiki clenched his jaw tightly at the thought. Then I'd already be dead. Long dead.
Thankfully for him, she had been just intelligent enough to start her plans, but far too fundamentally stupid to finish them properly. Thanks to that one critical mistake—thanks to that one act of betrayal by her sons—Isshiki had survived. Barely, pathetically, clinging to life by the thinnest thread imaginable. But survived nonetheless.
For a thousand years now, he had been wandering this backwater rock of a planet, trapped in a broken vessel, cursed with insufficient power. With the limited strength he currently possessed, he couldn't even leave Earth's atmosphere, let alone mount any kind of challenge against his enemies across the stars.
And even if he somehow did manage to escape this planet, he knew exactly what would happen. They'd descend on him immediately, like starving wolves on wounded prey. He'd be devoured before he could even think to defend himself. No doubt about it. No mercy would be shown. No escape would be possible.
So instead, he had walked. For an entire millennium, he had walked this world endlessly—hiding in shadows, studying humanity's developments, waiting patiently for the perfect opportunity. Searching, always searching, for a vessel worthy of his true power.
And today, the end of his thousand-year curse had finally arrived.
There, in the distance ahead of him, in the middle of a peaceful, open grassy training field—a red-haired child. So small, so seemingly human, so utterly insignificant by appearance. And yet his body...
Isshiki's instincts—finely honed over countless centuries of galactic conquest and brutal survival—screamed at him with absolutely unnatural clarity. That body is perfect.
He didn't know why it was perfect. He didn't particularly care why. Logic and explanation were irrelevant right now. His very soul practically vibrated with raw anticipation. There was absolutely no doubt whatsoever in his ancient mind. This child's body wasn't just compatible with his power—it was better than anything he'd ever encountered. Somehow, impossibly, it was genuinely perfect. A vessel not only capable of safely handling his immense power without breaking, but maybe—just maybe—even capable of enhancing it somehow.
It was completely unheard of in all Ōtsutsuki history. In all his extensive travels across galaxies, in all his countless battles against powerful beings throughout the cosmos, Isshiki had never once encountered a phenomenon remotely like this. Never even heard whispered legends of such a thing. The very idea of an Ōtsutsuki growing stronger after taking over a lower creature's primitive body was absolute blasphemy against everything he knew.
Yet here it was, right in front of him. Calling to him.
He narrowed his golden eyes slightly, studying the distant child with intense focus. Though he wasn't particularly proficient in the complex art of Shinjutsu like the legendary Ten Directions, he had definitely dabbled in it enough over the centuries—enough to trust his own highly developed senses when they spoke to him with such absolute certainty.
But honestly, logic and facts didn't matter anymore at this point. This wasn't about careful analysis or strategic planning. This was about seizing opportunity when it presented itself. And he was completely done waiting.
His chakra reserves were painfully low right now—embarrassingly so, actually. He hadn't expected anything significant to happen today, just another meaningless, boring stroll through another worthless section of forest. He hadn't even bothered carrying any excess energy reserves with him.
But even so, it doesn't matter at all. He would take that body. Today. Right now. And finally—after a thousand years of humiliation and hiding—he would rise again to his former glory.
He turned his gaze slightly to the side. A man stood near the child—red hair like the boy, older, battle-worn from years of combat. Skilled, Isshiki noted instantly with his experienced eye. Probably what the primitive humans of this world would classify as "Kage" level. One of their strongest.
Not a problem whatsoever. He'd personally crushed hundreds—no, thousands—of warriors at that level during his long years on this planet. One more wouldn't change anything fundamental. And even if the man chose to resist with everything he had, what could he possibly accomplish?
Over the past thousand years of observation, humanity had developed dozens of interesting new tricks—clever techniques, dangerous sealing arts. Some of them were genuinely dangerous to beings like himself. Very dangerous, even. His rational mind still told him to exercise at least some basic caution, to be careful.
Yet none of that actually mattered anymore. Because his impatience had finally, completely surpassed his legendary caution. The endless centuries of waiting, the humiliating wandering, the bitter taste of defeat and loss—all of it ended right now. Today.
With calm, purposeful steps that carried the weight of a thousand years, Isshiki began walking forward across the empty field. Each footstep carried the accumulated weight of his entire past and the desperate, burning hunger for his future.
The wind shifted noticeably around his moving form. He was smiling now. A predator's smile.
On the Other Side of the Field...
"...That guy," Renji muttered quietly, his eyes narrowing with sudden suspicion.
His senses had been off all morning long. Something hadn't felt right since he'd woken up. It had started earlier with that strange pulse of energy, that brief moment of unexplainable dizziness, that deep, primal surge of nameless dread that had settled heavily in his bones.
And now, a man he had absolutely never seen before in his entire life was walking directly toward them, emerging calmly from the forest's edge. Unhurried. Relaxed. Too calm for someone approaching strangers.
Renji's gut twisted sharply with instinctive alarm. The approaching man radiated something that didn't match any chakra signature he'd ever encountered—not once in his entire life as a shinobi. It wasn't just unfamiliar or foreign. It was fundamentally wrong, off in a way he couldn't properly articulate.
Elric was still laughing nearby, completely oblivious to everything, jogging in small circles, trying to balance a smooth stone on his forehead for absolutely no apparent reason except childish amusement.
But Renji's earlier smile had vanished completely from his face. His eyes locked onto the approaching stranger with laser focus, his heart beginning to pound heavily again in his chest.
That terrible feeling was back. Much worse than before. Much more immediate.
Something's coming, he thought with absolute certainty. Something I'm not ready for. Something I might not be able to handle.
He didn't know who this mysterious man was, had never seen him, never heard of him. But every single cell in his experienced warrior's body screamed the exact same word, over and over, louder and louder.
Danger.