A familiar voice rang out. Uchiha Gin, just steps from the dungeon, turned to see two young boys nearby. His mind raced, crafting a response.
"Izuna, Madara, what makes a great leader?" he asked.
"???"
Izuna, ready to tease, froze at the question. Too young to ponder such things, he blinked, stumped.
"Overwhelming strength?" Madara, more mature, ventured after a thoughtful pause, stroking his chin.
"Good point, but that's just the basics," Gin said, nodding then shaking his head, his "you're too shallow" look making the boys grit their teeth.
"Then what?" Izuna demanded, waving a small fist.
"Let me enlighten you on true leadership," Gin said, scanning for eavesdroppers. He beckoned the brothers closer.
Curious, they leaned in, eager for his wisdom.
"Besides strength, the key is…" Gin paused.
"Is?" The boys' eyes gleamed with anticipation.
"This!" Gin flashed a hand gesture, thumb and index finger forming a circle, a universal sign.
[?ヘ??][?_??]
The boys stared, baffled.
"Tch, a leader needs ryo—cash makes people loyal," Gin said, shaking his head, disappointed in their naivety.
"That's so shallow!" Izuna snapped, hot-headed.
"Hold on, that's just one part. The real key—most can't achieve it," Gin said, wagging a finger. Striking what he thought was a cool pose, he declared, "Charisma! Like me, my charm gets colleagues to cover my work."
(?_?)Σ(゜゜)
Ignoring their stunned faces, Gin spun, leaving a dashing silhouette, explaining his early "quitting time."
"I've never met such a shameless guy!" Izuna fumed, red-faced, processing the audacity.
Madara, beside him, looked pensive.
Humming, Gin strolled home. Pushing open the door, he found Senju Banma sprawled on the couch, slouched like a lazy shinobi.
Shirt hitched up, Banma scratched his exposed belly, yawning, eyes dull—a textbook slacker.
"You look comfy, kid!" Gin said, irked. He slaved away at work while this brat lounged. "Guess who's earning to keep us fed?"
"Huh? You're back early again?" Banma jolted upright, wary, scooting away.
"All you do is eat and sleep—useless at everything but cleaning plates!" Gin snapped, finger nearly jabbing Banma's chubby cheek.
"Ow, ow, ow!" Banma, caught off guard, chomped Gin's finger. Pain shot through Gin, who tried everything, but the kid's jaws locked tight.
Force failing, Gin switched tactics. "I got you a gift! Let go, I'll show you!"
"Gift?" Banma's eyes lit up, his bite loosening.
"Really, in the cabinet, go look!" Gin urged, desperate to save his finger from becoming lunch.
"Lie, and I'll bite harder!" Banma threatened, cheeks puffed, before dashing to the cabinet.
"Us Uchiha are honest—my word's solid!" Gin scoffed, eyeing the red teeth marks and Banma's glistening drool on his finger, stomach churning.
Grimacing, he scrubbed his hand in the bathroom until it was raw and peeling.
"Wow, cool turtle!" Banma's age-appropriate squeal echoed as he found the Three-Tails Isobu plush.
"Kids," Gin muttered, smirking at Banma spinning excitedly with the plush, though his eyes darted away.
Gift received, Banma left Gin alone, granting rare peace.
That night, Gin cooked, whipping up dishes. Banma, plush in hand, demolished three bowls and, post-meal, helped clean up.
The plush's power was terrifying.
When night fell, an exhausted Banma clutched Isobu and passed out.
Once the kid was out, Gin headed to the backyard. The revamped setup—new fence, recliner—lifted his mood. He flopped onto the wooden recliner, awaiting the skill refresh.
"This is the life!" Gin stretched, grinning. "Lying back is the way."
Suddenly, the air thickened. The wait was over.
A rippling, water-like curtain appeared, and a figure stepped through.
"New skin?" Gin asked, eyeing the familiar yet altered figure.
It was his old pal, the Tsukuyomi Mentor, One-Versus-Seven, but not in the usual Akatsuki robe.
This version looked rough—classic robe gone, clad in a tattered fishnet shirt, face deathly pale.
Despite the weakened appearance, Gin's sharp senses screamed this "reskinned" Itachi was far stronger than past versions.
Not waiting for the first move, Gin acted, eyes flashing three-tomoe Sharingan. His right eye focused, and Amaterasu roared forth, black flames engulfing the dazed Itachi.
A direct hit? Gin, able to guide Amaterasu with his eyes, sensed the flames connect.
But as the black fire raged, orange hands tore through. A translucent orange skeletal frame emerged.
"Susanoo!" Gin backpedaled, naming the ghostly half-giant.
Itachi's Susanoo pinched the persistent Amaterasu, snuffing it out.
Gin's trump card, Amaterasu, was effortlessly countered, leaving him frustrated. He lacked the means to match a mecha-like Susanoo—unless he had one too.
Eyes locked on Itachi within the Susanoo, Gin braced for a sudden strike.
Tense, hyper-focused, Gin's gaze met Itachi's eerie Mangekyo. A familiar sensation hit, and his vision blackened, landing him in his "happy place."
"%+@.＊"…~&<<" Gin cursed, dragged into the Tsukuyomi space.
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