Deep beneath the Shinobi Continent, entangled in a web of ley lines connecting the small border nations of Yuga, Shimo, Taki, and Kusa, lies the desolate Mountain's Graveyard—the resting place of the Gedo Mazo.
Within a dark, profound cavern in the Land of Hot Water:
Madara Uchiha lay with his eyes closed on a stone bed, drifting in a shallow slumber. From the chaotic Warring States period to this day, he had lingered on the edge of life, now old and withered. His skin was loose, his eyes sunken, and because he hadn't smiled in ages, deep creases ran from his nose to his jaw, giving him an air of stiff, ancient gravity.
Though he appeared to be a man in his sixties, he was actually over ninety years old. He sustained his existence solely through the life force supplied by the Gedo Mazo—a temporary reprieve akin to drinking poison to quench thirst. In his dreams, he often returned to the battlefields of his youth, clashing with his eternal rival.
Yet, time is a cruel thief. Every memory of the past brought only the bitterness of age.
Fortunately, everything was proceeding according to his will. He would return to his peak. He would reflect the world in his eyes and cast the ultimate Genjutsu to create a new...
Suddenly, in the pitch blackness, Madara snapped his crimson eyes open. He looked toward the ceiling of the cave.
"...!!"
He sensed a familiar technique flying directly toward his position.
Silently, a massive blue ribcage manifested around him! The skeletal structure solidified instantly, skipping past the skull stage to become a blue, four-armed giant.
One hand, wielding a blade of blue light, pierced through the cave ceiling like a hot knife through butter. Another hand reached out and pinched an object that was about to detonate.
Zzzzzzt!!
It felt as though he were holding a fragment of an exploding sun. The shockwaves and blinding light of the detonation roared outward.
"Hmph."
With a single cold snort from Madara, the chaos fell silent. He waved his hand, utilizing a secret technique to swallow and crush the violent chakra of the explosion—absorbing, kneading, and obliterating it entirely.
Looking at the charred arm remaining in his Susanoo's palm, Madara slightly raised an eyebrow.
"This chakra... the Eight-Tails? And that brat?"
"And this technique... the Halo Dance of those delusional fools."
"That pathetic stray dog that ran away with its tail between its legs back then... has he actually reached this level?"
"Heh..."
For the first time in a long while, an imperceptible smile touched Madara's lips.
At that moment, a pale-skinned man wrapped in a flytrap—White Zetsu—merged out of the cave wall. "Madara-sama, what happened above—"
Madara ignored him, giving an indifferent command:
"I am going out for a moment."
"Repair this place. After all, I'll be hosting a funeral for a restless wild dog here shortly."
With those words, Madara's aged body leaped out of the hole he had punched through the mountain. With a few light bounds, he stood atop a towering tree, narrowing his eyes as he cast a gaze toward the distant, raging battlefield.
Elsewhere in the Land of Hot Water, within the Valley of Hell:
A thick fog shrouded the area. Beneath mirror-like cliffs lay pools of blood-red water, bubbling with high-temperature steam. A group of thin, ragged people stood tensely at the edge of the pools.
Reflected in the water were their panicked faces—and the man standing before them. He was a youth with a sturdy build, bulging muscles, and the uniform of Kumogakure.
This was the future Fourth Raikage, the son of the Third: A!
After receiving the critical intel from Suna, A had ordered Killer Bee and Ramii to reveal themselves and intercept the Konoha reinforcements. His true goal was to draw away the Uchiha guards, creating a crack in the seemingly impregnable defense of the Valley of Hell.
A had used his legendary speed to slip inside, attempting to negotiate with the Chinoike Clan—the prisoners of the valley.
He stared at the ragged group with a frown. Once nobles of the Land of Lightning with a Dojutsu comparable to the Sharingan, the Chinoike Clan had fallen so far it actually made him feel a twinge of pity.
The leader of the clan, an old man with thinning white hair and vicious "Sanpaku" eyes, hesitated after hearing A's radical plan. He stepped forward with a bitter smile.
"Lord A, we understand what you are saying, but... the Uchiha have increased their guards. The exits are sealed, and that old fossil Setsuna Uchiha is personally overseeing the valley. If we cooperate as you ask... isn't it too dangerous?"
"Kumo promised to ensure our safety. That is why we agreed to serve the Third Raikage. But eating birds we knock out of the sky and scrounging for grass while drinking boiling water... our combat strength is already..."
"Enough!"
A rudely cut the old man off. He used his height to loom over him, his voice cold.
"Do you still not understand the situation, Chinoike? After what happened, you have completely enraged the Daimyo. You have lost any chance of becoming nobles again."
"Right now, you are nothing but dry bones destined to melt in this valley. You are a fallen clan, less than wild dogs, without a master to put a collar on you."
"If the Third Great Ninja War hadn't broken out, and Kumo didn't happen to need your power, I wouldn't have come here, nor would I have spared a glance for a whining old man like you!"
"That is reality!"
A's words were harsh, leaving the Chinoike members in a stunned, powerless silence. A looked around at their expressions, then spoke again in a calmer tone:
"You aren't the only ones suffering. To save you, Kumo has already lost elite Jonin. Tutai, my father's right hand, and Molloy, a promising Special Jonin from the Barrier Team, both died in this land."
The Chinoike members looked at each other in surprise. A looked them in the eye, his face heavy.
"I am not telling you this so you can calculate your bargaining chips. I am telling you that Kumo is a village bound by brotherhood."
"We are willing to accept your clan as brothers of a different blood. But the situation has changed. Kumo will only act this one time!"
"If this fails, we will bypass the Land of Rice and abandon the Valley of Hell. If you want to cling to your old noble pride and cannot make a shinobi's decision, then do not blame me when I cannot save you!"
A stood still, counting down the seconds in his head. The old man with the Sanpaku eyes fell into deep thought. Finally, he let out a long sigh, and with a determined look, he reached out his arm and gripped his fist toward A.
It wasn't a noble's bow, but Kumo's unique way of sealing a pact.
A grinned broadly and swung his arm, clashing his fist against the old man's.
"Lord A... the fate of the Chinoike is in your hands!"
In that moment, an alliance between Kumo and the Chinoike was formed. But while the clan members were swept up in the historic emotion of the moment, one man stood apart.
In the corner of the crowd stood a youth with an indifferent face. His thin, pale-green hair hung to his shoulders, and his dark circles were so heavy he looked as if he hadn't slept in a month.
This was the youth who had discarded the name Chinoike, calling himself En Oyashiro.
He watched the scene with cold eyes—the emotional crowd, the leader making a pact of brotherhood with the Raikage's son, and the tiny weed by the blood pool that had just been crushed under their boots.
Suddenly, he smiled.
He smiled like a demon.
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