world Domination

The pale light of dawn filtered through the blinds of the hospital room as Sasuke's eyes fluttered open. Three days. Three days of restless sleep, plagued by nightmares of golden-eyed shadows pursuing him. At his bedside, Sakura started, her chakra-infused green hands hovering above him. Her jade eyes, ringed with exhaustion, filled with a mixture of relief and worry.

"You should rest some more," she murmured, holding his arm as he tried to sit up.

Sasuke ignored the stabbing pain in his ribs and pushed the sheets away with a sharp movement.

"Kakashi-sensei. I need to see him."

His voice was hoarse, as if scraped raw by hours of stifled screams. Sakura gritted her teeth, her fingers trembling slightly against his skin.

"Your chakra isn't even halfway regenerated! If you—"

"Now."

His tone was as cold as a blade. Sakura lowered her gaze, her shoulders slumping under the weight of familiarity. She knew this stubbornness. She'd always known it.

…

The Hokage's office smelled of fresh ink and old parchment. Kakashi was bent over a map of the Land of Fire, his gloved fingers tracing invisible routes. Beside him, Shikamaru – now head of the Nara clan and official advisor – fiddled with his nascent beard, a tense expression on his face.

The door slammed open.

"Ah, Sasuke." Kakashi raised an eye, his weary gaze scrutinizing the bandages still stained brown beneath his former student's tunic. "You could have waited until you were able to walk without clinging to the walls."

Sasuke ignored the jibe.

"Kumo."

The word froze the atmosphere. Shikamaru stopped twisting the ring around his finger.

"We've received the reports," Kakashi admitted, straightening slowly. "An emergency Kage Summit has been called. The death of a Daimyo and a Raikage…"

"It's only the beginning."

Sasuke's voice was an ice cube dropped into boiling water. Shikamaru frowned.

"This Makima…?"

"Stronger than I thought." Sasuke closed his eyes, replaying the woman's calm smile as she dodged his Amaterasu. "Even the two of us, Naruto and I… it would be uncertain."

Kakashi crossed his arms.

"You're placing her on Madara's level?"

"At least."

A silence fell, heavy as a tombstone. Outside, a sudden gust of wind slammed the shutters. Shikamaru rubbed his forehead.

"Her abilities?"

"An unknown dojutsu. She summons creatures - not summons, something… different." Sasuke touched his left eye absently. "And advanced telekinesis. She tore the Killer Bee apart like paper."

"A Rinnegan variant?" Kakashi speculated, turning towards the window.

"Possible. But we need to act fast. She—"

The door burst open. Ino appeared, breathless, her blonde hair disheveled.

"Sorry to interrupt, Hokage-sama, but—"

Her gaze went vacant, her pupils dilating as she communicated telepathically. When she returned to herself, her complexion had paled.

"Orochimaru's secret base… It's just been attacked. Two intruders."

Sasuke felt his fists clench.

"It's her."

Kakashi narrowed his eyes.

"Objective?"

"Orochimaru's research, no doubt," Shikamaru grumbled. "His experiments on cells, kinjutsu…"

Sasuke took a step towards the door.

"I'm going."

"No." Kakashi's voice cut like a razor. "You can barely stand. And this time, we don't rush in headfirst." He turned to Ino. "Did she say anything? Show any specific intentions?"

Ino bit her lip.

"The reports speak of… disgust. Towards shinobi. Konoha in particular."

Shikamaru rubbed the back of his neck.

"But what's her ultimate goal?"

Sasuke's answer froze the blood in their veins:

"World domination."

Two days earlier,

Makima had left Kumogakure under the control of Mabui, her docile puppet, as obedient as one of her faithful devils. The entire city was under her thumb – indoctrinated shinobi, resigned civilians, all bending under the weight of her mental control. Her rules weren't simply followed; they were ingrained in their minds, as indelible as scars. Shinobi patrolled the streets in silence, ensuring that perfect order remained, after the period of debauchery, everything had returned to order. No rebellion was possible. No dissenting thought survived.

But Makima now had more pressing matters.

The inn in the Land of Fire where she was staying reeked of stale beer and dried sweat. The floorboards creaked under the footsteps of drunken patrons, and the dim, flickering lantern light cast distorted shadows on the crumbling walls. Sitting in a corner, Makima observed Samui, the Kumo jōnin, whose presence clashed violently with the sordid surroundings.

Samui, straight and still as a statue, with her blonde bob framing a face with chiseled features. Her blue eyes, cold and precise as razor blades, carefully avoided Makima's. Her fitted tunic strained to contain the generous curve of her breasts, the silk taut like a vise. But beneath this impassive appearance, a subtle tension betrayed her discomfort – a slight tremor in her fingers, overly measured breathing.

They were there for one reason only: to hunt down Orochimaru, with her mistress.

Half-closing her eyelids, Makima let her mind wander through the eyes of a raven perched somewhere in the surrounding forest. This connection, as natural to her as breathing, allowed her to scrutinize every leaf, every fold of the terrain. Hours passed in this way, until she discerned, nestled in an eroded cliff face, a barely visible entrance.