Am I… dead?
…
A heavy sense of exhaustion swept through his entire body…
His vision gradually returned…
His awareness slowly cleared…
Memories from before surged back into his mind…
Shimizu remembered that he had forcefully cast the "Hard Whirlpool Water Blade." Because he had pushed his body to its absolute limit, he suffered a violent backlash and finally collapsed unconscious on the cliff…
…Minato! And the other Konoha ninja!
He wondered if they were safe.
In his memory, that jutsu had truly been world-shattering. With such terrifying power, it should have been enough to buy everyone a chance to survive, right?
Shimizu tried to get up, only to suddenly realize that his arms and legs wouldn't obey him.
This was…
Paralysis?!
"Hiss…"
As he forced his body to move, a wave of intense pain instantly spread through him.
Only then did Shimizu notice that his entire body was wrapped in white bandages.
Who had saved him? Had he really been injured this badly?
"Young ninja of Konoha, you're awake."
It was the voice of an old man.
Shimizu followed the sound and saw an elderly man with gray-white long hair, wearing a dark blue robe.
But the man's left eye was that ominous blood-red cursed eye—
A Sharingan with three black tomoe.
"Who are you?" Shimizu asked, his heart filled with shock, though he forced himself to stay calm.
"And where is this place?"
"This is the rift between the Pure Land and the world of the living," the old man replied slowly.
"As for me... I am merely a ghost of the Uchiha."
Shimizu's heart trembled violently.
He already had a nearly unbelievable answer in his mind.
…Madara?
The ultimate mastermind of the Naruto world, the Uchiha Madara who orchestrated events like a script for decades?
After the pain subsided slightly, Shimizu forced himself to sit up, trying to understand his surroundings.
This place was a dim cave, surprisingly dry and tidy. Yet the entire cave seemed filled with a decaying aura of death.
At the moment, he lay on the only bright object in the cave—
A pure white bed.
"I'm injured? Why did you wrap me in all these bandages?"
As sensation slowly returned to his left hand, Shimizu tugged at the bandages. He desperately wanted to know what had happened to his body underneath them.
Why couldn't he refine even a trace of chakra now?
Why couldn't he control his body freely anymore?
What exactly had happened while he was unconscious?
"Are you questioning me? Is this how you treat the person who saved your life?"
...Saved my life?!
Shimizu froze for a moment.
He had only pushed his body beyond its limit. How had that suddenly become a near-death situation?
"Young man, it seems your vigilance is quite strong…"
The old man sighed softly, his voice hoarse and heavy.
"I have no intention of discouraging you, but if it weren't for me, you would already be dead."
"…May I ask what exactly happened? I don't remember any of it…"
"There was a mudslide there. You were buried under the earth," the old man explained after a pause.
"And when I found you, you had already stopped breathing. Your entire body had suffered severe damage…"
He paused again before continuing:
"Those were marks left by lightning."
"Lightning?!"
Shimizu's memory drifted back to the last moment before he lost consciousness…
Indeed, he vaguely remembered seeing lightning flashing in the distant sky.
But…
He had simply collapsed on the cliff.
And then…
He got struck to death by lightning?!
How could he believe that? Who could possibly accept such a thing?!
"Whether you believe it or not, that's the truth. I'm a man who's about to die—I'm not bored enough to make jokes like this with you."
"…Thank you."
"Is that all? Such a simple thank-you? That really lacks sincerity…" The old man's tone carried a strong sense of disappointment. He continued, "Even without the lightning, if you had remained buried under the mudslide, sooner or later you would have suffocated to death…"
Shimizu lowered his head and said, seemingly sincerely, "I truly am very grateful."
"Heh heh… that's more like it. But I don't need such empty gratitude. I'll make sure you properly repay this favor."
"…What do you want me to do?" Shimizu's heart tightened. He looked around and asked, "Stay in this sunless cave? Keep you company? Take care of you?"
"I've already spent a long enough time here alone. What's a few more years?" the old man said slowly. "For now, just focus on recovering from your injuries. When the time is right, I'll tell you."
The old man slowly stood up, holding a scythe-like weapon, and walked to a stone chair not far away.
Following the direction he moved, Shimizu suddenly noticed that behind the stone chair was darkness—but within that darkness he could vaguely make out human-shaped objects hanging there, dozens of them.
What were those things?!
Sensing Shimizu's puzzled gaze, the old man sat down and calmly explained:
"Those who should have already turned to dust yet wish to continue living in this world must always pay a certain price."
"Originally, I could rely on the Demonic Statue to continuously supply me with chakra… However, several months ago, the statue disappeared. Once that source of chakra vanished, this decaying body of mine was left with only one fate—death."
"So I had no choice but to go out and find a new source of chakra… and then I thought of the ninja. I can extract their chakra."
"If not for their sacrifice, I would have died long ago. And if I had died… you would certainly have died this time as well."
The old man's shriveled face stretched into a meaningful smile.
"Young man, don't you think all of this is a little too coincidental?"
"There are many coincidences in this world. One more doesn't make a difference," Shimizu replied calmly. He could feel that the old man was trying to guide his thinking.
"But too many coincidences become inevitability."
The old man's voice gradually grew stronger, filled with absolute conviction.
"And that inevitability… is called fate."
Shimizu smiled slightly. "I never believe in fate. I only believe in myself."
"Oh?" The old man raised an eyebrow slightly. "It seems you still don't believe what I said earlier. You think that even without me, you would have survived."
Yes—Shimizu truly didn't believe him.
He still firmly believed that even without the man before him—"Madara"—he would have lived.
Shimizu had asked himself countless times: why was he the one who transmigrated into this world?
If some kind of will truly existed in this world, perhaps it wanted him to accomplish something.
If he had simply died like that, then what meaning would this fleeting life have had?
For a moment, many faces appeared in Shimizu's mind…
Some of them had already passed away, while others were still struggling for their ideals.
And he—Shimizu Uzuki—had endured so many trials along the way and had grown strong enough to reach the level of an elite jōnin.
How could he possibly die so meaninglessly on that cliff?
"Hahahahaha—!"
The old man looked at Shimizu's determined expression and suddenly burst into uncontrollable laughter.
"…Remove those bandages and take a look at yourself now," he said.
"You'll change your mind."
...
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