Chapter 43: My Heart Is on Fire
The mountain cemetery was the place where Uchiha Madara constructed his final plan—the one that would end all conflicts in the shinobi world.
In truth, there were several such bases scattered across various neutral lands, but this one—hidden deep within the mountains—was where he now resided.
Through the Wood Release puppets that roamed the outside world and returned regularly, Madara's knowledge of global affairs far surpassed that of Uchiha Kagami, who had been training and developing under Aizen within the Invisible Seireitei.
Seeking a successor to carry out his will, Madara had been observing Konoha more closely than any other village. Naturally, he was aware of the man named Aizen Sosuke—the rising figure whose name had spread through the shinobi world like wildfire. He even knew of the research papers Aizen had published and the revolutionary technologies he'd introduced.
After only a brief conversation, Kagami was already filled with an overwhelming sense of awe for the old man before him. Despite his frail, coughing body and the weight of his years, the presence of Uchiha Madara could not be dismissed.
Though he had betrayed the village and once waged war against Konoha, he was undeniably powerful—and, more importantly, he was Kagami's ancestor.
Among the Uchiha, Madara's name had always been both legend and taboo. Yet no one could deny his strength, nor the sheer charisma that had once shaken the shinobi world. After all, he was one of the founders of Konoha—the man who helped give birth to the very village that now stood as the heart of the world.
No one could erase that legacy.
"So, Uchiha brat," Madara said, seated crosslegged beneath the roots of a massive tree within the cave. His voice, though hoarse, still carried the weight of command. "You came here under orders from that Aizen Sosuke, didn't you?"
Leaning back against a wooden chair carved from the roots themselves, Madara's breathing was heavy, and his once fierce eyes were clouded with age. Despite his arrogance, his trembling hands and frail posture betrayed how close he was to the end of his life.
Kagami, looking upon him, hesitated. For all his power, the man before him was nothing more than an old warrior waiting to return to the earth.
Finally, Kagami lowered his head and spoke quietly. "Senior Madara, please… return to Konoha. Surrender yourself."
"Surrender?" Madara's lips curled into a smirk. "Why should I?"
He snapped his fingers, and Kagami instinctively tensed, his hand tightening around his Zanpakutō.
But Madara only chuckled through a fit of coughing. When he spoke again, his tone was sharp—like a blade cutting through the air.
"Tell me, boy—did I do something wrong? Look at this world. Look at what Konoha has become. Was it Hashirama's vision that failed… or mine? Was it Tobirama who doomed your clan, or me?"
Kagami's brows furrowed. "No. That's not true. Lord Tobirama never meant to target the Uchiha. His methods may seem harsh, but his intent was to guide our clan toward unity—to help us integrate into Konoha—"
Madara slammed his cane against the ground, the sound echoing through the cavern. His single eye blazed with fury.
"He was wrong!"
Kagami flinched.
"Even a child could see it!" Madara's voice thundered through the cave, his frail frame trembling with rage. "The Uchiha will never accept that kind of false kindness! Tobirama's so-called policy of 'integration' was just another word for control!"
Each strike of his cane sent ripples of chakra quivering through the ground. Kagami's senses screamed that something wasn't right—some unseen force was subtly influencing his emotions, whispering anger into his mind.
But before he could resist, Madara's voice rose again, commanding his full attention.
"Did Tobirama not realize the weight of his words? He called our clan cursed—our bloodline evil! He branded us traitors! And now you claim he did it all for our sake?!"
"We have always been excluded! From the founding of the village to this very day, the Uchiha have been the first to bleed and the first to be blamed! When Tobirama spoke, the village listened—and his hatred became law!"
He struck the floor again, cracking the stone beneath him.
"As Hokage, his words were absolute! And that's why we suffered! His contempt poisoned Konoha, shaping every Hokage after him! Hashirama's dream became a cage, and we—the clan of fire—were thrown inside it to burn!"
"Enough!"
Kagami's voice trembled with fury as his Mangekyō Sharingan flared to life. "Even if you are Uchiha Madara, I won't allow you to insult the Nidaime Hokage!"
He took a step forward, his reiatsulike chakra filling the cave. "I know exactly what kind of man Lord Tobirama was! His words were sharp, yes—but his intentions were true! He worked tirelessly for Konoha's future and sought to bring our clan into harmony with the village!"
Madara sneered. "Harmony? You call submission harmony?"
"The Hokage's will carries the weight of the village," Kagami shot back. "Every word he speaks affects the hearts of his people. And you—who once bore that same dream—should understand better than anyone what it means to lead!"
Madara's eyes widened slightly at the young man's defiance.
"His policies may not have been perfect," Kagami continued, voice rising, "but the tragedy of the Uchiha didn't come from hatred—it came from misunderstanding! If only everyone could see the Nidaime's true intentions… and if our clan had been just a little more patient—more forgiving—then everything could have been different!"
His voice echoed through the mountain, filled with conviction and sorrow.
"…Is that so? I see now. Blaming the victim instead of confronting the root cause—that's the answer of Uchiha Kagami, the loyal shinobi of Konoha."
Madara's hoarse voice echoed through the cavern. His rage faded into a cold sneer.
Then—space itself shuddered.
Boom!
A translucent arm burst out from the void. Before Kagami could react, it struck him squarely in the chest, crushing him into the stone floor.
The sound reverberated through the mountain like thunder.
The ghostly appendage faded as quickly as it appeared, leaving the air eerily still. But summoning such a force came at a cost—Madara staggered, coughing violently, his withered frame trembling. He pressed his palm to the ground for support, his body shaking as he gasped for breath.
Finally, he steadied himself, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the cave wall. His lone eye flicked toward the ruined body before him—little more than mangled flesh.
"I was going to tell you the truth about this world's peace," Madara rasped. "But it seems… there's no need anymore."
He hobbled forward, leaning heavily on his cane. Despite his weakness, there was still a faint glimmer of interest in his eyes as he examined the remains.
"Still… this body is worth studying," he muttered, crouching beside the bloodied mass. "I wonder what kind of transformation Aizen Sosuke performed to allow a corpse to walk the earth once more."
Unbothered by the gore, the old warlord began prodding at the fragments of clothing with his cane. Blood trickled across the dirt floor.
Then, amid the red haze—something gleamed.
"Hm?" Madara squinted. "This light—"
Before he could finish the thought, a voice whispered hoarsely from within the pulsing flesh.
"This is… a necessary sacrifice for Konoha's great cause."
A pale hand shot out from the pile of gore, gripping a blade that flashed with cold brilliance. In one swift motion, it drove through Madara's skull.
The strike was clean. Swift. Final.
The blade twisted once inside his head before pulling free, and what remained of the old man's life spilled out onto the stone floor.
The great Uchiha Madara—the man who once challenged gods—fell wordlessly, his cane clattering beside him.
From the pool of blood, Kagami rose.
His body reformed from fragments of flesh, his expression unreadable as he looked down upon his own corpse—then at the fallen founder.
He had died, and yet lived again.
It was proof that Aizen's research was not mere theory—it was truth.
The soul could exist independently from the body. Life could transcend the physical form.
This was no crude imitation like the Impure World Reincarnation. This was something else entirely—an evolution. A transformation of being.
The essence of life and death had been rewritten.
A new kind of energy flowed through Kagami's veins—not chakra, but something deeper, more refined. His mind expanded, grasping truths beyond the reach of mortals.
Bankai. Shikai. Shinigami. Reiatsu. Kidō.
These concepts no longer felt foreign. They were etched into his very soul through Aizen's surgical transformation.
And in that instant, Kagami understood.
Aizen Sosuke had defied heaven itself. He had mocked death, toyed with creation, and bent the natural order to his will.
Such a man—no matter his brilliance—could not be allowed to exist.
"You may have been powerful once, Uchiha Madara," Kagami said quietly, looking down at the corpse. "But now… we exist in different realms. For Konoha's sake, and for the Uchiha's future, you had to die here—and only here."
His eyes burned with a cold light.
"And next… will be Aizen."
For Konoha. For the Uchiha.
He turned, his form dissolving into pure spiritual light, and vanished into the horizon—returning toward Konoha.
The mountain cemetery fell silent once more.
But after Kagami's departure, the scene shifted subtly. The cave walls shimmered as though a veil had been lifted. The illusion peeled away, revealing a truer, darker reality.
Madara's corpse was gone.
In its place lay a lifeless gray white puppet—its surface cracking, its hollow eyes staring into nothingness.
Deep within the mountain, the real Uchiha Madara sat in a massive wooden chair, countless black pipes burrowing into his back. His true body—aged beyond measure, sustained by an unnatural network of roots and chakra tubes—watched as the puppet dissolved into dust.
The corner of his mouth curled into a mocking smile.
"Heh… foolish Uchiha brat," Madara muttered, his voice low and filled with scorn. "Even after resurrection, he's still as naïve as ever. Believing the sentimental lies of Tobirama and Hashirama… what a pitiful fool."
He stared at the empty air where Kagami had disappeared.
"He never saw through the illusion. He never once understood reality."
Madara's gaze shifted downward to the parchment on his desk—Aizen's research notes.
"It was you, Aizen Sosuke," he murmured, his voice echoing softly through the chamber. "Just what have you truly seen?"
He lowered his eyes to the paper in his hand, where a single line was written in precise, elegant script:
"A detailed explanation of the theory of real illusions created through gesture, environment, movement, suggestion, and chakra synchronization."
Below the title, in neat calligraphy, was the author's name:
Aizen Sosuke
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