"Emiya Shihara… will you regret your naïvety and foolishness?"
The thought rolled endlessly through Black Zetsu's mind like a whisper in a cavern. In all the centuries he had existed, he had spoken with very few beings. Yet of those few, Shihara had been the one he conversed with most. The urge to mock him, to sneer at the idealist who had once walked beside him, now gnawed at Black Zetsu like an old hunger.
From the beginning, Black Zetsu had considered Emiya Shihara nothing more than a pawn—an unusually brilliant pawn, but a pawn nonetheless. Yet on the eve of his greatest plan, Shihara had betrayed him, abandoning their shared cause. Even now, remembering that moment felt like tasting iron: bitter, cold, and laced with something that might have been regret.
He had seen the crystal coffin many times since then. The Senju clan kept it sealed deep within their stronghold, a relic of a bygone age. Two years ago, Black Zetsu had even crept into Senju Tobirama's secret chamber, standing over the coffin to mock the lifeless form inside. He had spoken aloud to the silent figure, calling Shihara naïve and foolish, delighting in his own cruelty.
But now—now the impossible had happened. Emiya Shihara was alive again.
This time the mocking words could be spoken to his face. Perhaps, if everything aligned, Shihara could even be used again—the only piece on the board capable of making the old plan succeed.
Yet Black Zetsu did not dare rush. A quick move could ruin everything. He had to think carefully, because he possessed a new chess piece now: Uchiha Madara.
Madara was not yet perfected, but he was moving step by step along the path Black Zetsu had laid. A new piece, a new game, a plan maturing at last. And still, Emiya Shihara's shadow loomed—an older, stronger piece that once needed no guidance to destroy the Shinobi Clan.
Would the resurrected Shihara still possess that same force? Would he still be willing to serve? In this era the body of the Sage of Six Paths no longer existed for study; only the scattered reincarnations of Ashura's and Indra's chakra remained. But that hardly mattered. Shihara's true strength had never been brute force. It had been his genius—his ability to turn medical research and human experimentation into miracles that advanced all of humanity.
Black Zetsu had seen it himself. With nothing but knowledge and a stolen corpse, Shihara had produced wonders beyond imagination. Could such a man truly be unable to solve the problem of the Rinnegan's rebirth? The only question was whether he would still believe Black Zetsu's lies after a thousand years.
A thousand years turned even ordinary monsters into legends. Black Zetsu was no ordinary monster. He had been alive since before the founding of the ninja world, and yet sometimes he felt the echoes of youth—the rashness with which he had once confided in Shihara.
Still, there were excuses he could use. He could claim to be the will of the Sacred Tree itself. It would not be far from the truth. Shihara had once believed in the tree and in Kaguya, the goddess who had served it. Everyone of that age had known her name; everyone had revered her. When Black Zetsu had whispered his stories, he had presented chakra as a dangerous gift that must be guarded, entrusted only to the goddess who could wield it wisely. He had told Shihara much… perhaps too much.
Now, recalling each conversation, Black Zetsu felt something like sweat prickling his incorporeal form. He had been young then—ignorant, even frivolous. He had revealed so many of his intentions to his pawn, thinking it harmless. The only secrets he had kept were his true identity and the method by which Kaguya might be fully resurrected. For that, a sacrifice would be needed, and he had never spoken of it.
It was precisely that reticence, however, that had caused their plan to unravel. Shihara had known enough to act, but not enough to finish the work. The near-success of those days haunted Black Zetsu still.
"How could I have been so naïve?" he murmured to himself. "I actually revealed so much to my own chess piece."
Millennia later, he felt the awkward embarrassment of an adult recalling some reckless youthful confession. And yet, here he was again at a crossroads. Regardless of Shihara's thoughts—no matter how confused or suspicious the resurrected man might be—Black Zetsu had no choice but to draw him back into the game.
Shihara knew too many secrets. If he revealed even a fraction of them to the shinobi of this era, the delicate construction around Uchiha Madara would collapse. Black Zetsu himself might have to vanish forever into hiding.
Unless… unless he embraced the risk.
Perhaps Shihara could be persuaded once more. He had been a powerful pawn—no, more than a pawn, almost a partner. When Black Zetsu had been close to despair, believing his plan to resurrect his mother would never bear fruit, it had been Shihara who appeared, illuminating his darkness.
"Wait…" Black Zetsu whispered. "Am I only imagining this? Better to confirm first."
He decided to visit the crystal coffin. If the body was gone, then the resurrection was real.
---
The Secret Chamber
Black Zetsu slid soundlessly through the earth, a black ripple beneath the roots and stones. He knew exactly where to go. Senju Tobirama's hidden chamber lay beneath layers of seals and traps, but none of them could hinder a being like him.
Soon he emerged into the room. Shattered crystal littered the floor like frozen tears. The gaps where the pieces had lain were pristine, untouched by dust. The coffin's half-body was gone.
No illusion. No mistake. Emiya Shihara had truly risen.
Black Zetsu's mind raced. He had already guessed Tobirama's intentions, but the evidence confirmed it. The Second Hokage had used the preserved body to revive Shihara, hoping to employ him as a healer for the gravely injured Hashirama Senju.
Black Zetsu remembered the titanic battle between Uchiha Madara and Hashirama. He remembered the moment Hashirama collapsed, wounded to the edge of death. If anyone alive—or long dead—could save him besides the Sage of Six Paths himself, it would be Emiya Shihara.
Yet something felt off. Was Shihara truly helping Hashirama? Was he, after all this time, still playing the part of healer, still clinging to Ashura's ideals?
A terrible thought struck Black Zetsu like ice. Hashirama Senju was the reincarnation of Ashura's chakra. He had ended the Warring States era and built a fragile peace. Would Shihara, recognizing Ashura's soul within Hashirama, choose once again to believe in that same dream?
"No…" Black Zetsu hissed. "That fool… he wouldn't still believe Ashura's nonsense, would he?"
If Shihara still held faith in Ashura's vision, how many ancient secrets might he reveal to this age? How much of Black Zetsu's patient work would unravel overnight?
He could not stand still. He plunged back underground, anxiety knotting through his formless body. He had to find Shihara. He had to know his intentions. If the man had not yet spoken, perhaps he could still be convinced to return to the original plan.
The thought of killing Shihara flickered across his mind like a shadow. Could he frame him, provoke a conflict between him and the shinobi of today? But even that was dangerous. The resurrected Shihara's power was unknown. He might not have the Rinnegan, but his own abilities were immense. A careless move could reveal secrets even Black Zetsu had kept hidden.
And, in truth, Black Zetsu did not want to kill him. Compared to the troublesome new pawn Madara, Shihara was far more valuable. He had nearly succeeded once. He could perhaps succeed again.
---
A Choice of Pieces
In the end, all the swirling doubts condensed into a single thought:
Convince Emiya Shihara. Bring him back to his side.
Shihara was like a fully leveled character, equipped with every rare ability, capable of breaking the game at will. Madara was still a novice sub-account, under-geared and untested. Those were Black Zetsu's choices.
He lingered for a moment longer in the empty chamber, the shattered crystals glinting like starlight around him. The board was set, but the pieces were moving in unexpected ways. If he chose wrong, centuries of planning could be undone.
But if he chose right—if he could bring Shihara back into play—perhaps the dream of resurrecting his mother would finally be within reach.
Black Zetsu slid once more into the earth, a dark current heading toward destiny.
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