A few days later, deep within an underground cave somewhere in the Land of Grass.
The massive Demonic Statue of the Outer Path stood silently in the center of the cavern like a dormant mountain.
From its torso extended countless root-like tubes, like blood vessels, like vines, densely connecting to the withered figure at the base of the statue.
That was a person.
Or rather, something more like a corpse dried out by time. His gray-white hair nearly dragged along the ground, his skin clung tightly to his bones, wrinkled in layers like the bark of an ancient tree. Several thick tubes pierced into his back, fixing him firmly beneath the statue.
He hung his head there, completely motionless, as if he had already been dead for many years.
The cave was so quiet that only the sound of dripping water remained.
"Madara-sama! Madara-sama!"
A white figure emerged from the rock wall—it was White Zetsu, wearing his usual carefree grin.
"Something big happened in Konoha!" White Zetsu leaned in close to the withered figure, his voice tinged with excitement. "A reeeally big thing!"
The "corpse" stirred slightly. His eyelids trembled faintly.
Uchiha Madara slowly opened his eyes.
What kind of eyes were they?
Sharingan!
Yet those crimson, eerie Sharingan carried a deep sense of age and murkiness, as though time had worn away all their brilliance.
Still, beneath that cloudiness, one could faintly glimpse the shadow of the man who once stood above the entire shinobi world.
"What is it?"
Could it be that war was about to start again?
The thought flickered through Madara's mind, but White Zetsu's answer caught him off guard.
"It's Higashino Shinichi!"
White Zetsu waved his arms excitedly. "Madara-sama, remember that Higashino Shinichi I mentioned before? That brat from Konoha!"
Higashino Shinichi?
After four years, hearing that familiar name again, Madara was momentarily dazed. His thoughts drifted uncontrollably back to that summer four years ago.
It had been a very hot summer.
Even hidden deep underground, far from the light of day, he seemed unable to escape that oppressive heat. The air in the cave was suffocating.
The dripping of water echoed endlessly—drop by drop—like a countdown for his decaying body.
He was too old.
So old he could no longer remember how many years he had been here. So old his skin clung to his bones as if it might fall apart at any moment. So old that he could only rely on the Demonic Statue of the Outer Path to maintain his final breath.
He was going to die.
Madara knew this clearly. This body could not last more than a few more years. But what he needed to accomplish was not yet done.
The Eye of the Moon Plan! Infinite Tsukuyomi!
A world without war, without pain—one that only he could create.
Nagato.
That Uzumaki child, bearing the eyes he had bestowed upon him. When the time was right, Nagato would become the one to gather the tailed beasts, use the Rinnegan to revive him, and complete the plan.
But Madara suddenly realized that perhaps one executor was not enough. He needed a supervisor—no, a guide.
Someone who could oversee and guide Nagato, ensuring the plan did not deviate. Someone who, even after his death, could keep watch over it.
So he sent out White Zetsu to Konoha, to see whether there were any suitable children within the Uchiha clan.
...
"Madara-sama! Madara-sama! I'm back!"
White Zetsu emerged from the rock wall, his face glowing with excitement.
Madara opened his eyes and looked at him.
"How is the Uchiha clan?"
White Zetsu scratched his head. "The Uchiha… I took a look. Doesn't seem like there's anything special. Just average, I guess."
Madara frowned slightly.
No suitable children?
"But, Madara-sama!" White Zetsu suddenly raised his voice, as if recalling something interesting. "I saw a really fun kid at the Ninja Academy!"
"What kid?"
"He's called Higashino Shinichi! Just enrolled not long ago, but guess what? He carries a huge rock to school every day!" White Zetsu gestured wildly. "That rock is massive! Bigger than him several times over! And he just keeps carrying it, running like that!"
Madara fell silent for a moment.
"That's all?"
"There's more! There's more!" White Zetsu didn't notice his tone at all. "During lunch break, he doesn't play—he practices sword swings alone on the field, over and over! Super serious! I watched him for a long, long time. My eyes got sore, and he was still swinging!"
"Are you done?"
"There's also—I even saw—"
"Enough."
White Zetsu's voice stopped abruptly.
Madara closed his eyes, a hint of fatigue in his voice. "Next time, go observe the Uchiha."
"Oh… okay, Madara-sama."
White Zetsu muttered as he slowly sank back into the rock.
After some days—
"Madara-sama! Madara-sama! I'm back again!"
"Speak."
"I checked the Uchiha again. Still nothing particularly good. A few kids are decent, but just decent—far inferior to you."
"Mm."
"But, Madara-sama! That Higashino Shinichi did something interesting again!"
At this, White Zetsu's voice grew excited once more.
Madara's eyelid twitched.
"He was—"
"Shut up."
White Zetsu shut up.
"Next time, only observe the Uchiha."
"Okay, Madara-sama…"
After some more days—
"Madara-sama, there's really nothing on the Uchiha side."
"Mm."
"But that Higashino Shinichi—"
"Leave."
White Zetsu disappeared awkwardly.
Who knows how many times later—
"Madara-sama, I seriously checked the Uchiha this time! There's a kid named Uchiha Shisui who seems talented, but he's still too young—not even in the Academy yet."
"Mm."
"But Madara-sama, do you remember that Higashino Shinichi? He—"
"Enough!"
Madara opened his eyes and looked at the white figure. In those murky eyes, there was, for once, a trace of helplessness—perhaps even fatigue.
"I told you to observe the Uchiha."
"Yes, yes, I did."
"I didn't tell you to keep watching that brat."
"Yes, yes, I know, I know."
"Then why do you bring him up every time you return?"
White Zetsu scratched his head, looking utterly innocent. "Because he's really interesting, Madara-sama! I don't know why, but I just like watching him. It's like… right—familiarity! In human terms, he gives me a sense of familiarity. I can't help but watch him, and then when I watch him, I can't help but want to tell you…"
Madara fell silent.
A White Zetsu—something not even truly human, not even an animal—feeling something like familiarity toward a completely unrelated Konoha orphan?
He was too old. Too old to think about such strange things. Too old to bother arguing with this carefree creature.
But he had truly had enough.
"From today onward!"
Madara took a deep breath and spoke word by word: "When you go to Konoha, you will do only one thing! Watch the Uchiha. Observe whether there are suitable, talented, usable children. As for anything else—do not look! Do not listen! Do not care! Do not remember! And absolutely do not come back and tell me about it!"
"But that Higashino Shinichi—"
"There is no Higashino Shinichi!"
White Zetsu opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but seeing Madara's aged yet unquestionable expression, he finally closed it.
"Understood, Madara-sama."
White Zetsu slowly sank into the rock and disappeared.
...
Higashino Shinichi.
That name, in that scorching summer four years ago, entered his mind in an unexpected way.
Although Madara had never seen that boy, through White Zetsu's repeated descriptions, he had formed a vague image.
A child who carried a stone every morning while running, who swung a blade alone on the field at noon, as if he never knew what exhaustion was.
In the cave, the water continued to drip.
Drop by drop.
Madara closed his eyes, unmoving. His thoughts slowly pulled away from that summer four years ago and returned to the present.
"Go on."
Madara spoke in a hoarse, low voice. "What did that brat from Konoha do this time?"
Just to pass the time… listening wouldn't hurt.
At this, White Zetsu immediately lit up with excitement. "Heh, Madara-sama, you have no idea! This time, it was incredible…"
Madara listened quietly as White Zetsu excitedly recounted what had happened in the Konoha arena.
Swordsmanship versus swordsmanship, long weapons against long weapons, Fire Release without hand seals, absolute defense—both had displayed strength far beyond their age, especially that brat, Higashino Shinichi.
But none of it stirred even the slightest ripple in Madara's heart. Only the final invitation—of a future battle for the title of strongest in the shinobi world—caught a hint of his interest.
'The strongest?'
Madara closed his eyes. When he was revived in the future, that brat named Higashino Shinichi would have grown up by then. If he was still alive, if he was still worthy of that title…
At that thought, the corner of Madara's mouth moved slightly.
Then let's see.
He, Uchiha Madara, would personally test it—just how much that brat called Higashino Shinichi was worth.
Whether he truly had the right to be called…
The strongest.
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