Madara's eye slid open the moment he registered the shift in the cavern's air. The boy's chakra signature had changed. It was no longer the erratic, frantic pounding of a terrified child; it had settled into something so similar to Hashirama's that it made Madara's blood stir with a bitter familiarity.
"It would appear that you've come to see a little of what I have," Madara said, his deep voice echoing off the damp rock walls. "That, boy, is just a sliver of the cruelty of this world."
He pushed himself up slightly, his single Sharingan fixing onto Nawaki's blank gaze.
"Wake up to reality. Nothing ever goes as planned in this accursed world. The longer you live, the more you will realize that in this reality, only pain, suffering, and futility exist. You wanted to be Hokage, didn't you? Look at what that title truly demands. Your village elders, they are not protectors. They trade the lives of children for a temporary illusion called peace or for their own selfish gains."
Madara let out a low, humorless chuckle that sounded dry and raspy.
"In this world, wherever there is light, there are also shadows. As long as the concept of winners exists, there must also be losers. The selfish desire of wanting to maintain peace causes wars, and hatred is born to protect love. It is a vicious, unbroken circle. You saw the bodies clinging to the earth, Nawaki. You saw your own name carved into a rock. To Konoha, you are already a successfully spent resource. They wept, they buried you, and tomorrow, your Hokage will send another class of children to replace you and the others that have so needlessly died."
He leaned back inside the shadows of the Demonic Statue, his gaze unblinking.
"But you do not have to be a casualty of their cycle. I offer you a world where those graves do not exist. A world of true peace, true love, and true victory. Now tell me, child of the Senju... are you ready to learn how to break this reality?"
Nawaki clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles became an intense white. His nails dug deep into his palms, and warm, dark crimson began to drip down through the gaps of his fingers. When he eventually looked up, his eyes showed a terrifying new resolve.
He had been broken and remade, exactly the tool Madara had intended to create. Madara knew this transformation would require continuous reinforcement. A Senju did not possess the Sharingan; they lacked the volatile Uchiha eyes that can rapidly sway emotions and reshape a personality in a single traumatic flash. For Nawaki, this darkness would have to be developed, layer by layer, until it was carved into his very soul.
"Yes," Nawaki said, dropping to one knee. He bowed his head deeply toward the man.
"Please... teach me."
A cruel, sharp smile curved across Madara's withered face.
"It will not be easy," Madara promised, his voice oozing with an arrogant satisfaction. "But I shall forge you into someone unmatched in this pathetic era. I will make you a warrior who could have dominated even in my own time. You stand before the only living man who stood equal to your grandfather, a man who has collected and mastered countless jutsu across every chakra nature. Even the secret techniques of the clans who groveled to join Konoha are no mystery to this old man. I will teach you all of it."
Madara leaned forward, his single Sharingan radiating darkly with the dark shadows cast over his face.
"It will be grueling. I will push your body until you beg for death, but you will claw your way back up, or I will break you until you do. Do you understand me, boy?"
"Yes, Sensei."
"Very good. We start tomorrow; Zetsu will show you to your room."
Madara leaned back and closed his lone eye, the conversation clearly over for the day as Zetsu led Nawaki to his living space.
- 4 Years Later -
The first year was nothing less of an execution of who Nawaki used to be. Madara systematically broke him down to forge something unyielding. The standardized academy katas of Konoha were stripped away with relentless efficiency. In their place, Madara beat him into learning the taijutsu of the Warring States Era. It was a style built for survival, devoid of flash, focused entirely on lethal counter-attacks, breaking joints, and exploiting an opponent's blind spots.
Nawaki spent months running through pitch-black underground labyrinths, weighed down by heavy stone seals that restricted his chakra flow, pushing his body to its absolute limits. Weapons training followed a similar, merciless doctrine. A kunai or a shuriken wasn't just a tool to throw; Madara forced him to practice blindfolded, learning to track target dummies solely by the whistle of the wind. He graduated to short swords and trench knives, practicing until his fingers hurt and muscle memory took over, learning exactly how to coat the steel in raw, invisible chakra to maximize its cutting power.
By the second year, the attention shifted from the physical body to the energy within. As a descendant of Hashirama, Nawaki possessed a natural, latent affinity for Earth and Water, but Madara refused to let him depend on instinct. He forced the boy to master each element individually. Nawaki spent hours manipulating solid stone walls and churning massive underground currents, training until he could mold the terrain without the aid of hand-signs, focusing entirely on raw volume and speed.
After came the other natures. Madara owned an unmatched library of stolen scrolls from the very clans that had groveled to form Konoha. He systematically tested Nawaki's limits, forcing him to unlock Fire and Wind releases through grueling exercises. Nawaki was made to cut falling leaves with focused wind chakra until his palms were shredded, and vaporize stone pillars with fire until his throat felt like cinders. Madara was molding him to ensure he understood the exact mechanics and counters to any elemental jutsu an enemy could throw at him.
The third year brought the milestone Madara had been waiting for. Madara decided the boy had finally met the minimum requirements to begin the true inheritance. With those standards met, Madara permitted the training to proceed, and for the first time, Nawaki began training in Wood Release.
Unlike Hashirama, who wielded the Wood Release by pure instinct, Nawaki had to learn its science through Madara's precise technical knowledge. Madara knew exactly how Hashirama balanced his physical and spiritual energies to infuse wood with life energy. Under his strict guidance, Nawaki transitioned from accidentally sprouting knotted roots from his skin to intentionally manifesting crushing wooden hands, binding vines, and defensive domes. More importantly, Madara taught him the art of using the Wood Release to absorb an opponent's chakra upon physical contact, turning the boy into a terrifying weapon.
The fourth year was the final polish, the sharpening of the blade. Because Nawaki lacked the Uchiha eyes, he could not cast complex visual genjutsu, so Madara subjected him to hours of agonizing illusions using his own Sharingan instead. The goal was absolute immunity. Nawaki learned to recognize the slightest disruption in his own chakra flow, training his mind to instantly break out of high-level illusions by forcefully spiking his immense reserves.
Finally, Madara opened his private vault of Konoha's secrets. Nawaki was forced to memorize the hand-signs, execution speeds, and hidden weaknesses behind the Nara clan's shadow possession, the Akimichi's size alteration, and the Yamanaka's mind transfer.
By the time the four years had concluded, the bright-eyed, naive Genin who had died in a simple explosive trap was completely gone. In his place was a sixteen-year-old ghost with the limitless stamina of a Senju, the versatility of Madara Uchiha, and the power of the Wood Release.
Immediately following a demanding training session on the final days of his fourth year, Zetsu approached Nawaki. Under Madara's explicit orders, the creature had been secretly spying on Tsunade Senju. After clearing the trip with Madara first, Zetsu grabbed the boy and pulled him down into the earth, offering absolutely no explanation for the sudden departure.
Nawaki didn't fight it. He let Zetsu take the driver's seat, allowing the white mass to coat his body and pull him through the soil.
"What is this about anyway, Zetsu?" Nawaki asked, his voice echoing flatly within the creature's armor.
"To your home village," Zetsu replied, his tone surprisingly quiet. "I want you to see something."
Zetsu didn't speak another word for the entire journey. He kept them moving silently beneath the earth, traveling miles in total darkness until they finally arrived at the destination. Only then did the pale creature ripple, clearing Nawaki's vision to show him exactly what they had come to see.
Through the parted canopy of a tall oak tree, Nawaki looked down. Zetsu's pale mass had peeled back just enough to expose his eyes, framing a clear view of a remote clearing on the outskirts of Konoha.
Tsunade stood there, her blonde hair caught within the gentle breeze. Standing across from her was Dan Katō.
Nawaki watched in absolute silence as his sister reached up, her fingers unclasped the first Hokage's crystal necklace from around her own neck. It was the same heirloom she had gifted to Nawaki on his twelfth birthday, the one pulled from the rubble of the explosion that killed him.
She came closer to Dan, her expression a combination of deep grief and deep hope. With careful movements, she placed the heavy blue crystal around Dan's neck, fastening the clasp. Dan smiled down at her, a soft, comforting look that seemed to promise he would return safely from the front lines. Tsunade leaned in, closing her eyes as she pressed a long, tender kiss against his forehead, sealing the vow between them.
Turning around with a soft smile, Tsunade began to walk away, completely oblivious to the ghost watching from above.
Left standing alone in the clearing, Dan looked down at the crystal resting against his chest, his face full of fondness.
High up in the canopy, a sharp fracture ripped through Nawaki's four years of rigid, iron conditioning. For all the hell Madara had put him through, for all the stoic numbness he had forced himself to adopt, he was still a sixteen-year-old boy. And right now, the sight of his sister's tender smile and that heirloom resting on another man's chest caused a raw, smothering wave of bitter betrayal.
'She moved on.'
The realization twisted violently in his gut. His grave was fresh, his name was barely dry on the stone, and she had already given away his birthright. She had replaced him.
A sudden, savage spike of pure killing intent exploded from Nawaki's chakra, the dense pressure of a weapon trained by Madara Uchiha.
Down in the clearing, Dan's breath faltered. His blood grew instantly cold, a primal instinct yelling at him that a predator was staring directly at his throat. Shocked, Dan whipped around toward the source of the malice, his hand instantly dropping to his weapon pouch as he scanned the empty canopy.
There was nothing there.
Nawaki had already used the Body Flicker technique, vanishing into a blur of speed and leaves before Dan's eyes could even track the branches. By the time the wind settled, Nawaki was already deep underground, letting Zetsu swallow him back up into the absolute dark.
'That was better than I expected; Lord Madara will be pleased,' Zetsu thought to himself. He hadn't anticipated Tsunade handing over that family heirloom of hers to that man. 'She must really be attracted to him. Too bad, because her dear little brother seems pissed. I wouldn't be surprised if he asks me to—'
"Keep an eye on Dan Katō. I want to know when he's deployed, and when he's in trouble."
Nawaki ordered, unknowingly finishing Zetsu's thought. His tone was icy, his killing intent vibrating just beneath the surface, ready to let loose again at any moment.
"As you wish, Lord Nawaki," Zetsu replied.
The formal address faintly surprised Nawaki, but he didn't dwell on it. His mind was far too clouded with anger to think about anything else right now. He just stared blankly into the underground dark as they silently made their way back to base, Nawaki walking off to blow some steam with more training.
A week later, the call came.
Zetsu appeared in Nawaki's quarters with a grin. Dan Katō's unit had just been deployed. They were outnumbered and pursued by enemy shinobi, the rest of Dan's team being picked off one by one until it was only him.
Nawaki didn't waste a second. Guided by Zetsu, he traveled through the earth and reached the target zone just as the fight reached its peak.
Remaining underground, Nawaki tracked the chaos above. He could feel Dan's chakra signature—ragged and exhausted. The enemy ninja were closing in.
Dan dashed through a scrub, preparing to leap toward a high tree branch to dodge a volley of incoming kunai.
'Now,' Nawaki thought.
Right as Dan's sandals pressed into the mud to launch himself up, the ground fractured. Two jagged, wooden spikes shot up, piercing straight through the soles of his shoes and pinning his feet to the ground.
Dan gasped, his jump cut short. He strained to pull free, but the moment the wood bit into his flesh, a hollow feeling swept over him. The spikes were aggressively sapping his chakra, draining his stamina and leaving his limbs heavy.
To Dan, it felt like a perfectly placed enemy trap hidden in the mud. He thrashed, reaching for a kunai to hack at the roots, but the momentary delay was all the enemy needed.
Before he could cut the binding, the enemy shinobi swarmed the clearing. Shuriken and kunai flew through the air, hitting him with brutal precision before they got close and impaled him with other bladed weapons.
From beneath the soil, Nawaki felt Dan's chakra spike in agony, then slowly bleed out into nothing. Dan died right there in the mud, never getting to see Tsunade one last time.
Almost on cue, a sudden and violent rain began to pour down, heavy drops plastering the battlefield as lightning flashed and thunder boomed directly above.
Minutes later, Tsunade arrived. She was completely inconsolable. She didn't even try her medical ninjutsu; Dan was already gone. There was no pulse, no final words, just the booming thunder and lightning lighting up the tragic scene that broke her heart all over again. Her absolute disdain for war only grew deeper with every passing second as she stared into the lifeless eyes of the one she wanted to spend her life with, her tears falling faster than the downpour.
- Chapter End -
Surprise extra chapter!!!!
End of the mini Backstory arc, back to regular next chapter. Hope you enjoyed it. Nawaki at that time would've likely done this with the influence Madara had on him over the years, and he's still only 16 at this time, a very powerful one, but still irrational like Itachi was in the series. The timeline for Dan's death isn't set in stone, other than that it occurred after Nawaki's death and was still during the 2nd war. I read somewhere that he was like 27 when he died, and Tsuande was like in his early 20s. I thought 4 years was more than enough to make Nawaki a little monster for his age, not his peak, but at this state he could kill a kage.