Naruto: Shinobi Payday-Chapter 24: It’s Such a Shame You Had to Face Me

Sasori's grin stretched a little wider.

He saw it.

The blade from the Third Kazekage puppet had definitely landed—clean hit. Direct. Surgical.

For a moment, his chest swelled with satisfaction.

This was the guy everyone was so terrified of?

All that mystique, the whispering about the infamous Uchiha? What a joke.

Sasori said while putting on a proud look. "Tch. Couldn't even dodge? Legendary Sharingan my ass."

From the sidelines, Zeldris let out the faintest sigh.

Kid's getting cocky again, he thought, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He glanced back at Obito.

And just like that—his smirk disappeared.

Right as Sasori's did.

No blood.

No damage.

Not even a scratch.

Obito stood exactly where he had been, not a speck of dust on him. Calm. Silent. Slightly amused.

Sasori blinked. Once. Then twice.

"...Wait, what?"

He knew the hit had landed. He'd felt the impact. So—what the hell was this?

Genjutsu?

His stomach twisted. He hadn't looked the guy in the eye. Right?

Had he?

Suddenly, that age-old Uchiha warning rang loud in his head: Don't make eye contact.

And now the doubt crawled in, like cold fingers on the back of his neck.

Was it an illusion? When did it start? Am I even awake right now??

Zeldris, watching the internal panic storm build, decided to throw him a lifeline.

"It's not genjutsu," he said casually, like they were discussing the weather.

Sasori snapped his head toward him. "What?"

Zeldris repeated, deadpan: "It's not genjutsu. That's just how his ability works."

"...Oh," Sasori muttered, the gears in his brain screeching. "Well, that's somehow worse."

Obito finally moved, turning his head slightly toward Zeldris. Then, slowly, his gaze locked onto Sasori like a wolf eyeing an overly confident rabbit.

"You call yourself a genius puppet master?" he said, voice low, almost bored. "That's it?"

Zeldris chuckled quietly. "Look at that. He does talk trash. Definitely Uchiha."

But Sasori wasn't rattled anymore.

If anything... that comment snapped him back into focus.

His eyes sharpened.

"That strange trick of yours..." he muttered, chakra flaring at his fingertips, "just means I won't have to hold back."

He raised his hand—and the Kazekage puppet responded instantly, fingers forming hand signs faster than any human could.

"Iron Sand: Drizzle."

The ground shuddered.

From the earth, black sand surged upward like smoke turned solid. It spun into the air, thick and heavy, before condensing into thousands of shimmering needles.

A dark storm began to brew over the desert.

Obito's gaze flicked up slightly.

Huh.

So the puppet really did retain the Kazekage's Bloodline Limit.

This kid actually turned a Kage into a Pokémon. Savage.

Sasori didn't wait.

"Go."

The needles launched like a swarm of death itself—faster than bullets, sharper than blades.

The entire sky turned black for a moment as they closed in on the masked man.

Still...

Obito didn't move.

Didn't dodge.

Didn't even blink.

Sasori's eye twitched. "Oh, come on."

The iron rain hit.

—or at least, it should have.

But the instant the needles touched him, they phased through—vanishing into thin air as if his body were a hologram.

The storm slammed into the sand behind him, kicking up clouds of dust and metallic hiss.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

Needles embedded deep into the earth like a war god's porcupine.

Sasori's face froze.

"...He didn't even try to dodge."

He stared in disbelief, sweat beginning to bead at his temples.

It wasn't a substitution. It wasn't a clone. He just... let it happen. Like he's made of smoke.

His thoughts spiraled.

How do you fight something you can't even touch?!

Then—

A voice from behind him, smooth and quiet, like a dagger under the skin.

"The performance was impressive..."

"...but it's a shame you had to face me."

Sasori spun, eyes wide.

Too slow.

A hand reached for his throat.

But—

SMACK!

Another hand intercepted it.

Calm. Effortless. Powerful.

Zeldris.

Standing between them now, holding Obito's wrist like he was stopping a toddler from touching something sharp.

His voice was low—casual, but carrying weight.

"You done playing with the kid?"

His eyes flicked toward Obito, a slow grin forming.

"Because now..."

He cracked his neck.

"...it's my turn."

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