Night had fallen.
Rinjin gently tucked the covers around the little girl sprawled out in sleep, then slipped quietly from the room.
The White Zetsu clones he'd sent out that morning had already returned with news: Uchiha Madara hadn't moved. He was still holed up in the Mountain Graveyard north of the Land of Iron.
Well then...
After weighing his options, Rinjin slipped into his storeroom under cover of darkness and grabbed a few things.
One-handed hand seal.
Flying Thunder God Technique!
The world spun, and in an instant, his figure appeared on the outskirts of the Mountain Graveyard.
It was snowing hard in the Land of Iron. Great feathery flakes drifted down in silence, blanketing the world in white. Rinjin nodded in satisfaction.
Perfect.
He trudged through the snow and entered the mountain tomb. Following the passage deeper underground, arms loaded with packages large and small, Rinjin stepped into the vast subterranean hall.
Uchiha Madara had clearly sensed his arrival.
The old man sat upright on a stone seat before the Demonic Statue of the Outer Path.
"Rinjin, what the hell are you doing here?!"
The ancient voice echoed through the chamber.
Rinjin's eyes lit up as he took a good, long look at the legendary figure before him. The man wore a deep blue robe; his body was withered, his face a map of wrinkles, and his once-wild black hair was now streaked with white.
Was he really this old already?
He looked just like he would one day when conning Obito.
The next moment, Rinjin broke into a beaming smile, hurried over to Madara, and set his bundles down.
"Gramps, I came to see you!"
With practiced hands, Rinjin began unpacking his gifts.
"Here, this—down comforter, super warm! Even if it's freezing outside, your bed will feel like spring. Use it tonight, Gramps. Don't worry, it's washed and sun-dried.
And this—pear blossom sandalwood cane. Sturdy, stylish, top quality! Seriously, toss that old scythe of yours. Just looking at it makes my back ache.
And this—now, I'm not bragging, but this is a real treasure! You've probably never seen one before: a chakra rice cooker. Hook it up to the Demonic Statue of the Outer Path and you can cook rice with chakra. Heck, you could even steam an egg!"
He kept up his enthusiastic commentary, pulling out a bag of rice and a jug of oil—like some overzealous volunteer visiting a lonely old man.
"This is good oil, too—pressed from tea trees in the Land of Tea. Healthy stuff, all unsaturated fats..."
As Rinjin chattered on and on, Uchiha Madara's withered face twitched for the first time in years.
If he weren't tethered to the Demonic Statue, he'd have beaten this little bastard to death with his cane.
What was this—some kind of charity visit for the elderly?!
But Rinjin's next words made him nearly leap from his seat.
After a long-winded ramble, Rinjin let out a heavy sigh and looked at Madara.
"Gramps, you're not getting any younger. When are you going to leave the Uchiha clan an heir? Just look at how these books write about you—they say you're obsessed with the First Hokage, that your final battle was on the Hokage Rock."
As he spoke, Rinjin pulled a book from his sleeve, flipped to a full-color illustration, and handed it over.
The sight of two men pressed together on the page made Madara's ancient face flush with rage. His decrepit body trembled.
"L-little bastard!"
What the hell was this?! Why was Hashirama pinning him against the wall?! Why wasn't he the one doing the pinning?! That guy was obviously the bottom!!!
Furious, Madara snatched the Ninja World Chronicles from Rinjin's hand and, with a burst of unexpected strength, tore it to shreds.
Panting, eyes bloodshot, he glared at Rinjin and growled, "You little punk, tell me! Who wrote this garbage?!"
Rinjin just shook his head, all innocence.
Like hell he'd tell! If Madara sent death threats to the author, how was he supposed to keep getting updates? Besides, she'd promised to meet up in person if he stayed top donor for another year—if Madara offed her, then what?
...
Staring at Rinjin's guileless face, Madara trembled with rage, muttering under his breath.
"I'm done. Let the world burn. There's something seriously wrong with this place! I ought to string you all up to dry on trees!"
As Madara ranted, Rinjin quietly pulled a pink seat cushion from his bag, tiptoed behind the old man, and slipped it onto his stone chair.
"Come on, Gramps, don't get so worked up. Have a seat and rest."
He pressed the still-fuming Madara down onto the cushion, then glanced around, finally nodding in satisfaction.
Sure, he and this old-timer had always been enemies, but that didn't mean he couldn't look out for a lonely old man's golden years.
He was a good person, after all~
After a while, Uchiha Madara finally calmed down, feeling the warm softness beneath him. He pursed his lips, at a loss for words.
"Kid, did you come all this way just to pull these childish stunts?"
Rinjin shook his head, then nodded. "Hey, caring for you isn't so childish. You've got a descendant, Uchiha Kagami—just think of it as me doing my filial duty for him."
At that, Madara snorted, though his face softened a little.
This guy's strength was nothing special, but his tricks were endless.
Fine. Let's see what he's really after—then I'll be ready to counter whatever he's planning.
Truthfully, Rinjin's power didn't impress him much. The only thing he respected was that Rinjin kept his word: he'd promised not to meddle in the Eye of the Moon Plan, and he hadn't.
That, Madara had to admit, was admirable.
Still, admiration was one thing—he'd never let his guard down. The guy was too crafty; one slip and you'd fall right into his trap.
After a moment's thought, Madara drooped his eyelids and waved a dismissive hand. "If you've seen enough, get lost."
"Aw, c'mon! Can't we chat a little longer?"
"Hmph! Talk, then!"
Rinjin grinned, rubbing his hands together. "So, Gramps... got any more Rinnegan? Give me another one, yeah?"
Yeah, right!
Without a second thought, Madara snatched up the pear blossom sandalwood cane and swung it at Rinjin's head.
Did he think Rinnegan were like hostesses in Kabukichō—wave your hand and one comes running?! He was this decrepit all thanks to this damn brat!
Swinging his cane and dragging his white tubes, Uchiha Madara chased Rinjin out of the Mountain Graveyard, cursing the entire way.
Back at his seat, still panting, Madara barked at the White Zetsu lurking in the corner:
"Go, throw all that junk out!"
Several White Zetsu scurried out, eyes full of curiosity as they scooped up the scattered gifts.
"Madara-sama, why didn't you just use genjutsu to control him?"
"Control my ass! That was a shadow clone, you brainless idiot!"
After a round of cursing, Madara plopped down on the cold, hard stone seat, instantly wincing as his tailbone protested.
He pursed his lips, then called out gruffly to the White Zetsu hauling away the packages.
"Hey... bring the cushion back. I... I need to check if there's a Flying Thunder God seal on it!"
He muttered under his breath, "Damn it, every time I see that brat's punchable face, I just can't help myself!"
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
The story isn't over...
🤔 Want to know what happens next to the characters?
🤫 Eager to explore the untold secrets of this world?
✍️ Ready to read more of my wildest stories?
✨patreon.com/DarkGolds