Chapter 255: Clearing the Scene
"If I've awakened successfully, then… it looks like Nagato has matured."
A cold voice echoed through the dust.
With the creaking of ancient armor, a long-haired man clad in crimson plate slowly stepped out of the coffin. As the haze cleared, the five Kage stood frozen.
Bathed in sunlight, his expression was unreadable—grim, proud, exuding a terrifying presence that screamed superiority.
"What a familiar scent. Blood... and war. Just like always."
He ignored the distant figures, inhaling deeply. His voice was laced with nostalgia. "After all these years… has this world truly remained unchanged?"
Stretching, his joints cracked like snapping wood. Beneath the red armor, his once-sealed body awakened with surging vitality. Blood and energy coursed through him like a river, and even his heart began to beat with thunderous vigor.
"It's been a long time since I felt this alive. After touching the edge of death, I find myself even more eager to return."
There was undeniable excitement in his tone.
Uchiha Madara.
The very legend of the Uchiha Clan.
A man who had broken his limits countless times to stand atop the ninja world.
But the moment he emerged from the coffin, the advancing five Kage stopped—and even stepped back.
"U... Uchiha Madara?!"
Ōnoki's voice cracked with disbelief. The man before him, armored and imposing, was the very ghost that had haunted his childhood.
"No! It can't be! If this is Uchiha Madara, then who's the masked man we've been fighting?!"
Mei Terumi's brows furrowed.
"Three monsters... are we really about to face three monsters?!"
Ōnoki's voice was on the verge of collapse.
Nagato alone was already nightmarish. The masked man was supposed to be of equal standing. And now, Madara had entered the field.
Compared to the composed Madara, the five Kage—including Jiraiya—were rattled.
If Madara truly stood before them, then the masked man wasn't him. That meant Akatsuki had two monsters at that level... no—three, if Nagato was counted.
Could there be more behind the curtain?
Doubt and fear struck their hearts like blades. The grim camaraderie they had found earlier was now cracking under the weight of despair.
Ōnoki, who had once faced this terrifying man, unconsciously loosened his clenched fists.
At the same time, the remaining White Zetsu army fell still. Their objective complete, Black Zetsu halted them.
"Madara-sama."
Black Zetsu's reverent voice sounded behind him, but Madara didn't even glance his way.
Separated from Nagato's body, Black Zetsu stood holding two blood-soaked eyeballs in his palms.
"The plan unfolded almost exactly as I envisioned. Well done."
Eyes still closed, Madara calmly took the eyeballs and—without flinching—shoved them into his sockets.
A grotesque, brutal method.
With that single move, he reclaimed the Divine Eyes—the Rinnegan—that symbolized the legacy of the Sage of Six Paths.
"Well done, Nagato."
Madara opened his new eyes. He didn't even spare a glance at the chaotic battlefield. His gaze turned downward, landing on Nagato's fading body.
"My eyes... they've stayed sharp under your care. I can feel it."
There was genuine satisfaction in his tone.
The same Rinnegan he had awakened at the end of his life now surged with youthful, violent energy.
But instead of comfort, Madara's words pierced Nagato like a dagger.
To hear that he had merely been a caretaker… a pawn…
It validated everything Black Zetsu had said.
His life had never truly been his own.
"But… there's one last thing you can still do."
Calm and cold, Madara raised his palm.
"Tell me… everything that's happened while I was gone."
Nagato's limp body floated upward, cradled by an invisible force.
His strength had always depended on the Rinnegan.
Now stripped of it, his form resembled a lifeless husk—his vitality gone, his will shattered.
Unlike Nagato, Madara could use the Rinnegan effortlessly. The perfect compatibility allowed him to wield its full power without strain.
Without summoning puppets or techniques, he activated the Human Path.
A surge of invisible spiritual power washed over Nagato.
In moments, Madara read every memory: the Akatsuki's operations, the changes in the world, and the rise of new players.
"Hyuga Ryosuke…"
"The Ninja Alliance…"
"You haven't even gathered all the Tailed Beasts?"
At Nagato's core, Madara uncovered an obsession—one that hadn't been planted by him.
It wasn't justice.
It wasn't peace.
It was a name—Hyuga Ryosuke.
A member of a clan Madara had once dismissed entirely.
"Tch."
Madara threw Nagato's limp corpse to the ground like useless driftwood.
"That woman, Konan… she's headed this way. Let her take him back. Consider it my thanks for their years of service."
He turned away from the corpse, eyes narrowing again.
His gaze swept the field—then lifted.
"…Hyuga Ryosuke."
Madara's voice dropped to a murmur. The arrogance in his tone vanished, replaced by quiet severity.
"That ancient clan, so stubborn and self-reliant… and yet, they've birthed someone like him?"
When he was first revived, Madara had sensed no presence strong enough to be a threat.
Even after reclaiming his prime—or perhaps, even surpassing it—he still felt unchallenged.
But now, after combing through Nagato's memories and learning about that boy from the Hyuga, an unease stirred within him.
He didn't even acknowledge the five Kage standing nearby.
His attention was elsewhere.
Somewhere close.
Someone was watching.
There was no doubt—the only person capable of concealing the Byakugan's abilities and spying undetected was Hyuga Ryosuke. In Nagato's memory, he bore eyes with the same power.
---
"He... are they fighting among themselves?"
In the distance, Jiraiya and the others watched warily as a man appeared. Nagato, now limp on Black Zetsu's shoulders, had clearly lost his voice.
---
"Youngster of the Hyuga clan... don't you want to compete with me?"
Uchiha Madara ignored the Five Kage and the Allied Shinobi Forces. He looked skyward, voice loud and cold.
"From what I've seen, you're not the kind who hides in the shadows."
Though he couldn't pinpoint the direction, the sensation of being watched had become unmistakable. And based on what he'd gleaned from Nagato's memories, Madara was convinced—the hidden observer was Hyuga Ryosuke.
Madara never once considered himself inferior. No matter how powerful the opponent, he needed to fight to know the truth. While it might've been wiser to first complete the plan Nagato and the others had started and perfect himself before issuing a challenge, Madara could never ignore a threat once identified.
---
"It looks like we've been discovered. Want to come with me?"
On the mountaintop, Ryosuke wasn't surprised his presence had been noticed.
"Of course I have to go and see for myself," Shanks replied without hesitation. After watching so many titanic battles unfold, his blood was boiling.
For too long, he'd restrained his true power for fear of disrupting the balance between worlds. But now… it no longer mattered. The combat power of this world had long since surpassed the ordinary.
Perhaps joining Hyuga was the right move—not just for himself, but for the future of his world and his crew.
---
"Welcome aboard."
Ryosuke extended a hand, sensing the shift in Shanks' heart.
"I hope to see your true strength."
"Master Ryosuke is relentless," Shanks replied with a wry smile, shaking his hand.
"I only hope I can rediscover the purpose and fire I've lost with age."
Ryosuke's unwavering interest in this world and its systems had never dimmed. Shanks envied that. Since losing his arm, he had become calmer, more measured, no longer the reckless warrior who once sailed beside Roger. But sometimes... he missed that younger, braver self.
---
"Then let's take care of it now."
Ryosuke raised his gaze across the mountains. In the distant wasteland beyond the battlefield, Uchiha Madara stood, seemingly peering back at him.
---
"I think I've grasped the ninja world's power system well enough. While I look forward to the fight, I don't think it should be me."
Ryosuke's voice was calm.
"I want you to fight him—for me to witness the pinnacle of a different world."
---
"Me?" Shanks blinked, then sighed.
"I'm not the strongest of my world. And with only one arm... I'm not who I used to be."
"It's just an arm," Ryosuke said flatly, turning to him.
"You saw the battlefield earlier, didn't you?"
"…You mean—"
"Since it's a battle, it should be thrilling. I don't want you holding back out of regret. That'll leave cracks in your mindset. And I don't want those limitations after you've joined Hyuga."
"This arm… consider it a welcome gift."
The moment his words ended, White Zetsu—long void of consciousness without Black Zetsu's control—trembled violently. Then, like a withered branch, his entire body began to shrink and collapse. All his vitality surged into a single arm.
Through it all, Zetsu didn't show pain—more puppet than man now.
Only an arm remained where he had been.
Under Ryosuke's control, it floated up and merged with Shanks' shoulder. Meridians and bones connected instantly, perfectly aligned.
With unimaginable power, the Yin-Yang Release restored what had been lost.
Shanks flexed his new arm, stunned.
There was no rejection, no resistance. Blood flowed into it seamlessly—just like the old days. It was as if nothing had been missing.
No strangeness. No discomfort.
Just completeness.
"Let's go. I doubt Uchiha Madara will wait much longer."
Without waiting, Ryosuke fixed his gaze on empty space.
The world distorted.
Under the power of the Tenseigan, a rippling portal to the battlefield appeared.
And on the battlefield, Uchiha Madara truly couldn't wait any longer.
His challenge had gone unanswered, and his frown deepened. He scanned the area, ready for disappointment—until the space before him rippled and warped.
Only then did he relax his scowl.
"You don't seem like someone who skulks in the shadows," Madara muttered.
Turning, he faced the two men emerging from the distorted space
"Hyuga Ryosuke."
Ryosuke spoke calmly, a faint smile on his lips.
"Uchiha Madara."
Madara replied indifferently. Then, his eyes drifted to Shanks.
"No chakra... So, another from beyond this world?"
He had already learned through Nagato's memories that the world was changing.
"Shanks," the red-haired swordsman replied with a nod.
"Ryosuke… Ryosuke?"
Jiraiya and the others, who had remained on high alert, stared in confusion at the two newcomers. One of them looked… familiar.
"Jiraiya-senpai. Long time no see."
Ryosuke turned, greeting him casually.
"You—!"
Jiraiya opened his mouth to ask something—only for an invisible repulsive force to slowly rise from the field.
Unlike Nagato's overwhelming Shinra Tensei, this force felt like a calm but unstoppable stream, gently pushing them back.
"This...!"
Ōnoki struggled to resist, but there was nothing he could do. They could only watch as the wasteland receded from view, their bodies nudged back toward the quieter battlefield where the Ninja Alliance stood.
By now, the rogue Mist and Rain ninjas had been nearly wiped out.
"Sorry. It's sudden, but please vacate the battlefield for now."
Ryosuke offered a polite explanation before turning back to Madara.
"I'm guessing you don't want them here either?"
"Just useless trash," Madara scoffed, arms crossed.
"Though I'm a bit surprised the Five Great Nations managed to unite... these new generations are disappointing."
As always, he had no regard for others—be it the ninja coalition or the Kage.
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