Chapter 86: Madara's Torment; Perverting the Uchiha Gospel
The Land of Frost.
In the northernmost reaches of this buffer state, nestled between the borders of Fire, Earth, and Lightning, lies a jagged, jutting peninsula. It is a dead end bordered by the freezing sea—a wasteland of war where ninjas go to die and never be found.
The world calls this place the Mountains' Graveyard. It is the hidden throne of the Ghost of the Uchiha: Madara Uchiha.
Deep within a cavernous sanctuary, Madara sat upon a massive, cold stone chair.
Behind him loomed a monstrosity—the Gedo Mazo. The Demonic Statue sat in a meditative pose, its wooden, lotus-like palms upturned, its body covered in gnarled protrusions. Several thick, organic conduits ran from the statue into Madara's back, pumping a steady stream of life-sustaining chakra into his withered frame.
"I'm so mysterious~ a man of mystery am I~ I wonder what it feels like to take a dump~"
A White Zetsu clone hummed its nonsensical tune as it rose from the dirt floor.
Madara let out a long, silent sigh.
Living with these biological rejects was slowly eroding his sanity. They were obsessed with human waste. Madara had already slaughtered dozens of them in fits of rage, but it didn't matter. The Zetsu clones had no fear of death, and the new ones would simply pop out of the Mazo and ask him the exact same question.
It was an endless cycle of stupidity.
Madara Uchiha, the man who had once rewritten the map of the world, the legendary rival of Hashirama Senju... reduced to a senior citizen living in a hole with a thousand brain-damaged puppets. If the world ever found out, he'd be the laughingstock of history.
If Hashirama knew that I spent my golden years being asked about bowel movements, he'd probably die of laughter again, Madara thought bitterly. Maybe this is my punishment for stealing that piece of his flesh.
"Shut your mouth," Madara commanded, his voice a low, terrifying rattle.
"Yes, Lord Madara!" the Zetsu squeaked, though its face remained a permanent, unsettling grin. It skipped toward the throne, eager to please. "Madara-sama! Madara-sama!"
"I found the Uchiha you were looking for!"
"He's silly! He's kind! He loves his family! And he has real talent!"
Madara's gaze sharpened. He slowly reached back and adjusted the tubes connected to his spine. He stood up, his joints popping, and gathered a small amount of chakra to steady his legs.
He felt the crushing weight of time. He hadn't become younger; he was simply decaying at a slower rate. He had awakened the Rinnegan far too late—at the very edge of his lifespan. While the Eyes of the Sage granted him god-like chakra, they couldn't repair the fundamental damage of nearly a century of war.
Without the Gedo Mazo, he would have been dust years ago. He knew that in another decade, he wouldn't even be able to unhook the tubes. He would be a parasite on a wooden god.
"Speak," Madara commanded, his voice weary.
Truth be told, he had briefly considered using the Rinnegan and Zetsu's vast spy network to find a way to restore his youth. But the effort was staggering. To scheme and plan while surrounded by these idiots was mentally exhausting.
Am I the Ghost of the Uchiha, or a kindergarten teacher for monsters? he wondered. His Uchiha pride made the second option intolerable.
"There's a brat named Obito Uchiha!" White Zetsu reported.
"Just today, he awakened his Sharingan because he was worried about his grandmother! He was literally running home in a panic and—pop!—one tomoe!"
"And he's a total saint! He helps old ladies cross the street! He's the friendliest kid in the clan!"
Madara nodded slowly, his eyes closing in thought.
He recalled the words his brother, Izuna, had told him decades ago.
"Brother, the true potential of our clan isn't in the ones who act cold and arrogant," Izuna had mused. "Those people have hit their ceiling. They're just average soldiers."
"The ones to watch are the kind ones. The ones who feel too much. The ones who are a bit clumsy or 'off.' Within them lies the Uchiha's true power: the power of Love."
"We must protect them, Brother. If they feel the clan's love, you will be the greatest leader in our history."
Fifty years had passed since those words were spoken, yet they echoed in Madara's mind as if they were uttered yesterday.
But Madara wasn't going to protect these "kind" Uchiha. He was going to do the opposite. He was going to Pervert the Gospel.
If Izuna said kind-hearted Uchiha had the most potential, then logically, they were also the ones who would fall the hardest when that kindness was crushed. They were the easiest to turn into monsters. They were the perfect candidates for his "Moon's Eye" plan.
I'm sorry, Izuna. I failed to protect the clan... but I will save the world instead.
"Keep looking," Madara rasped. "I need someone who is both kind and intelligent. I want a genius who loves too much."
Madara wasn't just looking for a pawn; he was looking for a Vessel for Izuna's Spirit. A replacement for the brother he lost. If he found a true candidate, he might even be willing to share his secrets with them.
"Lord Madara, are you just wishing on a star?" Zetsu asked, picking its nose. "That's impossible! Even I can tell you're just missing that one guy—"
Madara's fist clenched. He wanted to pulverize the creature.
"Guruguru, get over here!" Madara barked.
A swirl-faced White Zetsu waddled forward. "Yes, Madara-sama! But I have a new name! You can call me Tobi!"
Madara showed a rare bit of tolerance. "Fine. Tobi."
This Zetsu was different—it was intelligent, specialized, and could actually use Wood Style. It was the closest thing to a "person" among the clones.
"Take a squad. Monitor the Uchiha compound from the shadows."
Madara unrolled a map and drew a circle with a charcoal pencil. "Stay out of this sector. Mito Uzumaki lives there. She's Hashirama's wife, and her sensing abilities are a nightmare. If she feels your malice, the secret is out."
"But she's ancient. She'll be dead soon enough. Then the village will be ours for the taking."
Madara spat on the floor. "Fortunately, that disgusting rat Tobirama did us a favor. He put the Uchiha compound right next to the prison on the outskirts of the village. It's far from the center. It makes our job much easier."
"Yes, Lord Madara!"
Madara waved them away. He felt exhausted.
He had originally planned to use Nagato as his primary heir. But he hadn't accounted for Jiraiya.
Madara had watched through Zetsu's eyes for three years as Jiraiya taught the Amegakure orphans about peace and self-preservation. Instead of becoming a weapon of hatred, Nagato was becoming a "Child of Prophecy."
"Is it done?" Madara asked the air.
From the darkness of his shadow, a black, liquid-like creature emerged. Black Zetsu.
"The rumors of the orphans' deaths have been planted. The Leaf ninja believes they are gone. He won't return for them," Black Zetsu whispered.
"Nagato and the others are finally experiencing the 'Truth' of the Ninja World. Poverty. Hunger. Betrayal. It won't be long before their hearts break."
Madara nodded, leaning back as the conduits reconnected to his spine.
"One more thing, Madara-sama," Black Zetsu added. "Konoha is... acting strange. They've acquired a massive amount of wealth. They've even started distributing funds to the Uchiha."
"Even that brat Obito received a payout. Should we interfere?"
Madara frowned, then dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "Let them have their gold. It won't change the fundamental nature of this hellish world. It's just a distraction."
Let the Uchiha be comfortable for a moment, Madara thought. It will only make the pain more exquisite when I take it all away.
To him, money was a civilian trifle. Only the Rinnegan and the Infinite Tsukuyomi mattered.
Madara drifted into a deep, meditative slumber, his mind filled with visions of a perfect dream-world.
Black Zetsu watched him, sighing inwardly. The reincarnation of Indra was too late, too tired, and too obsessed with finding a "new brother." Without Black Zetsu to "clean up" the messes and manage the White Zetsu army, Madara's grand plan would have collapsed years ago.
While Madara was dreaming of the end of the world, the man he had dismissed as a "non-factor" was entering a new peak.
Hiruzen Sarutobi was in the village R&D lab, surrounded by Orochimaru, Tsunade, and Hiruko.
He could feel his "System" hum with energy. Every social reform, every gold coin collected, and every talented shinobi recruited was expanding his "Level Cap." He was becoming more than just a Hokage.
He was becoming the Architect.
"Alright, people," Hiruzen said, looking at his team. "Let's talk about the next phase. Konoha doesn't stop here."
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