whydoesthecxgedbirdsing
Edo Tensei. Truly, it must be the perfect technique. An immortal soul, recalled into an infinitely regenerative body, able to be as controlled by the caster as it was able to be set free to live immortally. Kabuto, to be quite frank, still felt honored that he had even been given the opportunity to study this technique at all. The things one could do with it were simply... fascinating, and that was the least of the compliments he could have for it. He'd had more than his fair share of fun with it already, granted. But it just wasn't enough—surely there were heaps of corpses waiting for him on the battlefield, ready to be brought back to this realm with the blur of seals and a scrap of paper. Typical of Obito's incompetent plants to miss out on gathering actually useful soldiers for him. But he had this. A single tool and weapon, a single of Obito's war trophies, sent to him in a twist of fate; a stroke of luck, Kabuto considered it. The Zetsu who flung it at him told him wryly that Obito'd had a ball with this one, and Kabuto didn't doubt it for a moment. He knew who it was as soon as the corpse hit the ground, tawny hair settling on the cave's floor in haphazard clumps. This would be more than enough. Delicately, with a gentleness that he rarely showed out of medical work, Kabuto inserted the tag he'd written for this specific corpse into the disposable Zetsu. There was a feeling of pride every time, watching the technique begin and the uneven flakes of new flesh and tissue form over the sacrifice, smoothing out into a perfect replica of the original. When it was complete, he smiled, allowing his jaw to unhinge just a tad to make it inhumanly wide. "Welcome back, Hyuuga Neji."
