A dark corridor deep beneath Konoha's administrative center flickered with dim, green-tinted chakra lamps. Shadows stretched unnaturally against the stone walls, following the footsteps of men who preferred silence over sunlight.
Danzo Shimura stood at the far end of the chamber, leaning on his cane like a shrine statue that had forgotten its purpose. His face, partly veiled in white wrappings, was unreadable.
Before him floated a glowing scroll, the newest edition of the Rebel Ninja Handbook.
The name listed at the top radiated with dangerous authority—Yin-Yang, age 16, Flying Thunder Magician.
Ridiculous? Yes. Effective? Absolutely.
Danzo allowed himself a small, bitter smile.
Don't brag, don't bluff. Shimura Danzo is truly remarkable.
He hadn't just fabricated an S-Class traitor—he'd birthed an entire identity. A rogue so real that even Jiraiya flinched. He even managed to find a half-homeless drifter in the Land of Grass whose distorted chakra signature and pale features vaguely resembled the thing Beiyuan had nearly killed.
And that name—Flying Thunder Magician—it had a divine aura to it, as if fate itself had whispered it into Danzo's ear. An act of political theater dressed as military intelligence.
Every page of the updated Rebel List was a lie dressed in truth. And everyone—Hiruzen, Jiraiya, even the boy Itachi—was buying it.
"I don't understand…" Itachi whispered, reading the wanted notice aloud. "Flying Thunder God… that technique is powerful, isn't it, sensei?"
His voice was soft. Innocent.
He still didn't fully grasp the weight of what was being said. In his world, only one man had ever used that jutsu: the one who had once carried him as a child and vanished midair.
Jiraiya halted on the road, voice heavy. "In the history of the ninja world, only two people ever mastered the Flying Thunder God. The Second Hokage, Senju Tobirama. And my student… the Fourth Hokage, Namikaze Minato."
His words carried the weight of legacy and grief. Both men were gone. Both had shouldered more than they should.
And now… suddenly… there was a third?
A "sixteen-year-old magician" who appeared from nowhere?
It reeked of fabrication. And yet, it worked.
Jiraiya's expression tightened. "You can't just use that technique. It's not about chakra. It's about reflexes, calculations… years of death training. Even I couldn't do it."
He said nothing about his own trials. About the long nights watching Minato disappear and reappear like lightning through a battlefield, while he, Jiraiya the Sannin, could only follow with his eyes.
Behind them, Beiyuan let out a slow, amused caw.
Even by crow standards, this was impressive. Not only had Danzo successfully stolen its work, but he'd dressed it up in a way that made even the beast of prophecy question its own memories.
Had it not seen Obito with its own eyes? Had it not fought this "non-existent" magician and torn half his body apart?
If it didn't know the truth, even it might believe Danzo's story.
The real question was: how did Danzo find a lookalike?
Beiyuan tilted its head. Konoha had many dark tunnels, but this kind of reach—this level of fabrication—was truly worthy of admiration. Terrifying, but brilliant.
The truth was simple.
Danzo had nothing.
When Hiruzen stripped him of power, Danzo had wept—not tears of sorrow, but tears of humiliation. If he had possessed a true Flying Thunder God under his command, would he have endured being sidelined like a senile old relic?
No.
And so, he did what Danzo always did—he lied.
He offered the Hokage a fabricated betrayal. Claimed the magician as one of his own, then cast him aside as a dangerous rogue. It served two purposes: it removed suspicion from his Root operations… and it gave him leverage to re-enter the corridors of power.
And to make the story stick, he offered one last piece of bait:
"There is a ninja," he told them, "living in the Land of Grass. No background. No record. People whisper that he's powerful."
And just like that, the noose tightened around a man who never existed.
"We should go to the Land of Grass," Itachi said quietly.
Jiraiya shook his head. "No. First, we return to Konoha. I need to speak with the old man. Directly."
Behind him, Beiyuan fluttered onto Itachi's shoulder, looking immensely pleased with itself.
Ask me. Come on, ask me. Ask me everything!
"Beiyuan?" Itachi blinked. "Do you… know something?"
The crow let out a haughty gah, as if insulted by the question. Of course it knew. It knew the smell of Zetsu's chakra. It knew Jue's techniques—his mayfly stealth, his molecular absorption, his Wood Style.
It knew everything.
But could it say it all?
Well… not exactly.
Some artistic liberties must be taken.
Jiraiya crouched beside the fire that night as Itachi recounted what Beiyuan had whispered. Tales of a strange, monstrous ninja in the Land of Grass. One who possessed the First Hokage's Wood Release. One who could vanish underground like mist and summon blades from his arms.
Jiraiya's pipe slipped slightly from his mouth.
"The First Hokage's… Wood Style?"
Itachi nodded. So did the crow.
"Anywhere… anytime… through anything?"
Again, they nodded in eerie unison.
Jiraiya paled. "That's Flying Thunder God… and Wood Release? Together? That's not a coincidence. That's a weapon."
He stood suddenly. "We return to Konoha at once."
Beiyuan blinked slowly. Something felt… off.
Did it forget to explain something?
Why did everyone suddenly think this was Orochimaru's doing?
By the time they reached the Hokage's tower, the tension in the village was thick enough to taste. Patrols were tighter. Anbu were everywhere. And the Land of Grass had already begun diplomatic protests over Konoha's encroachment.
Hiruzen Sarutobi was already waiting. His face was worn, pipe clenched tight between his teeth.
"Is the information accurate?" he asked, not looking up.
Jiraiya saluted. "I trust Beiyuan. And if the creature truly uses Wood Release and Flying Thunder God, then it is no ordinary defector. This… this is Konoha's failure."
Hiruzen sighed long and hard.
"There are only a few viable Hashirama cells left. Some of them… were taken by Danzo. And others, by Orochimaru. It's possible this… 'Jue'… is a hybrid. Something born of us. Something we buried."
He tapped the ash from his pipe. "If it walks like a ghost and kills like a shadow, then I don't care what Danzo calls it. It's a threat."
"So we pass the message," Jiraiya said quietly. "From now on, the rogue ninja goes by one name."
Hiruzen nodded solemnly.
"…Jue."
Across the rooftops, Beiyuan ruffled its feathers, disturbed.
Wait… When did I become Konoha's rebellion?