Chapter 85: The Aftermath
Senju Hashirama arrived at the riverbank, the place he and Madara had once designated as their secret meeting spot. He found Uchiha Madara already waiting for him, his back turned, a silhouette of cold fury against the flowing water.
"Madara, I—" Hashirama began, his voice heavy with regret.
"Save your words," Madara cut him off, his voice as sharp as flint. "There is only one condition for my cooperation in this. Hand over Tobirama."
The demand hung in the air, cold and absolute. Madara would never forget that it was Senju Tobirama who had struck the killing blow against his brother, Senna.
"You know that's impossible," Hashirama replied, his own pain evident. "I grieve for Senna, too. If you seek vengeance, then take my life."
"Kill you?" Madara let out a mirthless laugh. "Spare me the noble act. You and I are the same now, weighed down by the burdens of our clans. You won't die, and neither will I. Not by each other's hands."
"Then why—?"
"Enough!" Madara snarled, finally turning to face him, his Mangekyō Sharingan blazing. "After this business with the Kaguya is concluded, whatever friendship remained between us is dead. Consider it severed."
Without another word, Madara turned and vanished, leaving Hashirama alone by the river, the chasm between them now wider and deeper than ever.
Upon returning to the Uchiha compound, Madara went directly to Uchiha Raizen's home. If Hashirama was mobilizing, it meant Raizen's mission was a success. Yet, there was no sign of the man himself. A knot of worry tightened in Madara's chest, and he decided to wait.
"Patriarch, please have some tea," Uchiha Kuna offered, presenting a cup with a respectful bow.
"Thank you," Madara said, accepting it. "Has Elder Raizen returned yet?"
"Not yet, my lord."
"Very well. I will wait for him here. Do not trouble yourselves on my account." He sipped the tea, his senses extended, waiting.
Half an hour later, a faint, familiar chakra flickered into existence within the house. It was weak, terribly so. In an instant, Madara was gone from the main room, reappearing inside Raizen's bedchamber in a blur of speed.
What he saw made his blood run cold. A figure lay on the floor, clad in Raizen's torn and bloodied clothes. But it was… a desiccated husk, skin stretched tight over bone, as if every drop of moisture and ounce of flesh had been sucked away.
"You…!" Madara gasped, kneeling beside the horrifying form.
The corpse-like figure twitched. A hand, little more than skin-covered bone, feebly grasped at Madara's sleeve.
"Ma…dara…" the voice was a dry, rattling whisper, barely audible. "F-fast…"
"You… what happened to you?!" Madara demanded, his mind reeling.
The figure expended what seemed to be its final reserve of energy. "Hun…gry…"
Hungry. The word, absurd and terrifying in this context, confirmed it. This was Raizen. Somehow, he was still alive. Madara immediately alerted Raizen's mother and sisters, who rushed in with cries of horror and immediately began preparing food.
Ten minutes later, the first bowl of rice and stew was brought. Haruka Minako, her hands trembling, began to carefully feed the emaciated Raizen. He consumed it mechanically, without pleasure, but after the third bowl, a faint hint of color returned to his parchment-like skin, and he managed to sit up under his own power.
"Not enough," he rasped, his voice still weak but clearer. "I need more. More food."
Alarmed but driven by hope, the family scrambled back to the kitchen. What followed was a scene of surreal horror. Raizen ate with a voracious, terrifying speed. He consumed plate after plate, bowl after bowl, his stomach seemingly a bottomless pit. Their cooking couldn't keep pace with his consumption.
Seeing the crisis, Madara summoned every available cook from the clan's main kitchens to assist. For the entire night, the household was a frenzy of cooking and feeding. Raizen consumed more than ten times his own body weight in food, a physiological impossibility that defied all reason.
Finally, as dawn broke, Raizen set down an empty bowl. "I'm sleepy," he mumbled, and then collapsed into a deep, comatose-like sleep right at the table.
Exhausted and deeply unsettled, Madara could only stare. The questions would have to wait. He had a clan to lead and a war to manage. He instructed Uchiha Kuna, "Send for me the moment he wakes," before taking his leave, the image of his friend's ravaged body and impossible hunger burned into his mind. The cost of their victory was proving far stranger and more dire than he had ever imagined.