"To gain someone's complete trust, you must make them believe you are their closest ally. Only then, when they least expect it, can you stab them in the back. Tell me, Madara-sama… do you really think there are no villains hiding within the Senju Clan?"
Makoto's voice was calm, yet sharp, like a kunai grazing past the skin without drawing blood. His words lingered in the quiet night like poisonous smoke.
Madara's eyes narrowed. His hand clenched slowly at his side as he replayed Makoto's words. A person he trusted—betraying him? The thought pressed heavily against his mind.
Hashirama?
Would Hashirama truly ever betray him?
Madara's heart rebelled against the idea immediately. No—absolutely not. That was impossible!
Hashirama would never raise a blade against me. He's not that kind of man. He's… Hashirama.
The memory of countless battles, countless conversations, and countless moments of camaraderie between him and Hashirama rushed to the front of his mind. The man was his rival, his equal, his partner in dreams.
"Makoto," Madara said at last, his voice firm, his gaze unshaken. "You're mistaken. Hashirama would never betray me. He is not like that. He is the one man in this cursed shinobi world who understands me."
But even as he said those words, an image flickered in his mind. White hair. Cold eyes. A calculating expression.
Senju Tobirama.
If there was ever anyone in the Senju Clan who might harbor the will to betray, it was Hashirama's younger brother.
Madara exhaled slowly. "Tobirama… perhaps, yes. He has always looked at me, at us Uchiha, with suspicion. His distrust is like poison. If betrayal comes, it will be through him."
Yet his lips curled into a bitter, almost mocking smile. "But it doesn't matter. It's only a possibility, and I will extinguish that possibility myself if it comes to pass."
He dismissed Tobirama with a wave of his hand. To Madara, Tobirama was no more than an annoying gnat buzzing in the shadows. A mere insect compared to the blazing sun that was Hashirama.
"Makoto, you are overthinking things," Madara declared, his tone carrying the weight of certainty. "I have sworn to protect our clan. I gave my word to Izuna before his final breath. And Hashirama—Hashirama loves peace. Together, he and I will guide our clans into a new future. If villains appear, we will destroy them side by side. There is nothing in this world we cannot accomplish together."
Madara's voice rang with conviction. His eyes were resolute.
Makoto, however, only managed a perfunctory nod.
Inside, his heart was burning with frustration.
Damn it, Madara-sama! Hashirama, Hashirama, it's always Hashirama! Can you not see beyond him? Can you not hear Izuna's final plea—that you avenge him?
Makoto's thoughts grew darker the more he reflected.
Hashirama stabbed himself with a kunai that day, claiming it as proof of his sincerity. But with that monster's regeneration, the wound healed in seconds! It was nothing more than a cheap trick. And yet, Madara-sama… you believed him. You've been bewitched, ensnared like prey in a spider's web.
He bit back the urge to shout. Instead, he pressed on, his words sharpened by suppressed anger.
"Madara-sama," Makoto began carefully, "I understand your dream. I truly do. To build a village where Senju and Uchiha live as one—it sounds beautiful. But beauty can be a deception. This so-called village you dream of is nothing more than a transformation of open war into hidden conflict. Out in the light, our enemies stand across from us with blades drawn. In this so-called peace, the blades will come from behind, when we are unguarded."
He let his words sink in, then added, "The Uchiha may be weakened now, yes. But compromising everything? Sacrificing our pride? That is no path for us. The ninja world is vast. Even if we must carve out our own corner with blood and fire, there will always be a place for the Uchiha Clan to stand."
Makoto's eyes glinted with determination. He paused only to catch his breath before continuing, his tone almost pleading now.
"If this path continues, if we merge ourselves into a village where 'you are in me, and I am in you,' our clan will be swallowed whole. We will vanish, piece by piece, until nothing remains but the memory of the Uchiha name."
He clenched his fists.
But you won't see it. You refuse to see it, Madara-sama. You are intoxicated by Hashirama's honeyed words. You would drag our clan like a bride's dowry to his feet.
Despite his frustration, Makoto knew he had to persist. This was not only about persuasion—it was also about survival.
If Madara truly refused to see reason, then Makoto had already decided. He would prepare a separate path. He would establish his own power, his own following. And when Madara finally realized that his dream was nothing but a cruel lie, when betrayal cut deeper than any blade, Makoto would be the one standing there, arms open, ready to guide him.
Better to plant seeds now, so that when the storm comes, I will be the one with roots deep in the earth.
The Uchiha Clan, even in decline, was still a great beast. A starving camel is still larger than a horse. If Makoto were to break away, he would ensure to take at least a portion of that strength with him.
But more than practicality, there was strategy in his persistence. These words he spoke now were investments—seeds of doubt planted in Madara's mind. Seeds that would sprout when the inevitable happened.
Because Makoto knew the future.
He knew that once the village of Konoha was established, peace would not last. Within a few short years, Madara would clash with Tobirama, then with Hashirama himself. In the end, Madara would leave the village through its gates alone, abandoned by every Uchiha under his banner.
The great Madara-sama, rejected even by his own clan, walking away into exile… what greater tragedy could there be?
And when that day came, who would Madara think of?
Not Hashirama. Not Tobirama.
No. He would remember the one man who had spoken the truth from the very beginning.
Uchiha Makoto.
Madara would turn to him. And that thought sent a shiver of excitement down Makoto's spine.
When that day comes, Madara-sama, you will fall into my embrace. Whether you seek vengeance, or whether you seek an ally in despair—I will be there.
And if Madara sought to pursue the Eye of the Moon Plan, Makoto had no intention of stopping him. He would throw himself into it alongside Madara, extracting every ounce of value from the man while he still lived. By the time Madara awakened the Rinnegan, he would already be aged, his life force nearing its end.
And I… I have my own path. My own power. My own cheat. There is no reason why my growth should lag behind yours, Madara-sama. None at all.
For a long moment, silence lingered between them.
Madara finally spoke, his voice low, contemplative. "Makoto… your words carry reason. But they also carry fear. I cannot allow myself to be guided by fear. Hashirama and I—we have spoken openly. We have bared our souls to one another. Together, we will lead. Together, we will build. What in this world could possibly stand in our way if we are united?"
His eyes shone with unwavering confidence.
Makoto looked at him quietly, his expression unreadable.
Confidence. Faith. Blind devotion. Very well, Madara-sama. Believe as you will. But the day will come when reality tears your illusions apart. And when it does, I will be there to ask you—
"Madara-sama," Makoto whispered under his breath, his lips barely moving, "when you are denied the title of Second Hokage, when even your own clan refuses to follow you, will you finally ask yourself… why?"
Why did you not look for the flaw within yourself?
Why, Madara-sama? Why?
---
And when that day comes…
Makoto smiled faintly, almost mischievously, though his eyes remained solemn.
You will regret this. You will regret everything.