Crack—
Within the sealed chamber, the coffin slowly creaked open from the inside.
A tall, muscular man emerged from the depths of the coffin.
His long hair hung in disarray over his shoulders. He opened his mouth and spat a piece of bloody flesh into the palm of his right hand, as if reacquainting himself with the sensations of the living.
It was none other than Uchiha Madara.
No one could have imagined that Madara was still alive.
The entire shinobi world believed him to have perished by the hand of Senju Hashirama himself. His resurrection was unthinkable.
"The timing is just right."
"So my hypothesis was correct after all..."
Madara raised his head, surveying the stone chamber buried deep in the mountains. A sardonic smirk curled on his lips as he thought of the one person he detested the most.
"Even if I died in battle against Hashirama, that conniving rat Tobirama wouldn't have disposed of my body so quickly..."
His left hand instinctively reached toward his eyes. One of them was a lifeless, milky white—clearly blind.
It was the price of his return.
"I had preemptively inscribed the Izanagi technique with a timed activation using a transcription seal within my Sharingan. Looks like it worked."
This was the Uchiha clan's ultimate secret.
Izanagi—a forbidden technique that allows its user to rewrite reality for a brief moment, transforming any injury, defeat, or even death into mere illusion.
The Transcription Seal, another of the Uchiha's ocular arts, allowed Madara to embed a jutsu into his Sharingan and set it to activate at a specific time or under certain conditions—even after his death.
Long before his final confrontation with Hashirama, Madara had already accounted for defeat. By sealing Izanagi into his eye with a delayed trigger, he ensured an escape from death itself.
Madara touched the hollow of his lost eye, a trace of regret in his voice. "A shame... this was the eye my brother Izuna left me."
It was his younger brother's eye—gifted to him in the pursuit of power.
Yet, as Madara recalled why he had provoked the battle with Hashirama in the first place, the melancholy quickly gave way to resolve.
"Hashirama's flesh..."
His gaze intensified as it fell upon the piece of living tissue in his hand. He had bitten it off during their battle—a hard-earned trophy.
It was the true prize he sought.
More precious than victory itself.
This was the outcome Madara had fought for—what he could only claim through a death match with the First Hokage.
"Hashirama..."
"This time, my plan succeeded."
"If I graft this tissue onto my wounds, I'll gain access to his cells—and, with them, his chakra..."
Madara's grip tightened around the flesh. He could sense the pulsing vitality within it. In his mind's eye, he envisioned the power that would awaken once he assimilated it.
"The interplay between yin and yang gives birth to all creation..."
"The meaning is clear—when the chakras of the Uchiha and Senju, born to clash, are united... the power to save the world will emerge."
"I hope..."
"You won't let me down."
Just before leaving the chamber, a thought struck him. He suddenly formed a hand seal.
"Ninjutsu: Shadow Clone Technique!"
Poof!
A shadow clone materialized beside him.
Madara watched as the clone obediently lay back into the coffin, perfectly mimicking the appearance of his corpse. A cruel smile crept across his face.
"Hmph..."
"Let's leave behind a stand-in."
"If anything happens to this clone, the information it gathers will be returned to me upon dispersal..."
"This way, I'll know the moment that scheming bastard Tobirama realizes I'm still alive..."
"Then I'll have time to act."
A product of the brutal Warring States era, Madara knew better than to believe he could vanish completely with one trick. All he wanted was time—enough time to seize the power he sought from the fusion of Senju and Uchiha.
Shadow clones were particularly useful for shinobi of his caliber.
The clone left behind was a failsafe, an early-warning system should anyone attempt to verify his death—since a shadow clone relays all its final thoughts to the original upon dispelling.
Madara, confident in his preparations, departed the chamber in silence. He needed somewhere secluded to transplant the Hashirama tissue.
But first…
He wanted to see Hashirama one more time.
That battle had been the most intense clash between them in history.
Though Madara knew he had lost, he was equally certain that his old friend had paid a steep price. Perhaps Hashirama was barely clinging to life?
The man had always possessed formidable regenerative power, but even he couldn't recover from those wounds so quickly.
One last look…
To bid farewell to his former self.
Madara had already resolved that the next time they fought—once he had awakened the power of All Creation—he would fight with the intent to kill.
"Hashirama..."
"I learned from you as well."
He recalled their final exchange—the moment Hashirama drove his blade through Madara's back. The pain still lingered in his memory.
"Hashirama..."
Madara clenched his fists, teeth gritted in newfound determination.
"I will become like you."
"Whether it's my own brother..."
"My friends, my children..."
"To fulfill my ideals, I'll sacrifice them all."
"Hashirama..."
"You taught me this."
"This darkness of will..."
"I accept it."
With his resolve steeled, a strange calm returned to Madara's expression.
When the choice is made, things somehow become easier.
His face returned to its usual stoicism as he walked into the shadows beneath Konohagakure.
The village's defenses were strict, but to Madara, they were meaningless. The guards might as well have been children playing at war.
In the whole of Konoha…
Only Hashirama posed any real threat.
However—
Madara did not know…
That just as he left the chamber, hidden beneath the earth, Black Zetsu had been watching the entire time.
Unseen and unnoticed.
"Heh heh heh heh..."
"Madara is quite cunning, isn't he…"
Black Zetsu was genuinely impressed by Madara's intricate plan—so much so that it had nearly been fooled itself. A sly, satisfied grin stretched across its face.
"I never thought I'd see real hope for my plan... in Madara of all people."
A sudden turn of fate.
Black Zetsu could barely contain its delight.
It had witnessed Madara leaving behind a clone. It understood that Madara wanted to keep his resurrection hidden.
"Let me help you with that."
While burrowing through the earth and tracking Madara's movements, Black Zetsu pondered how best to assist him in maintaining the deception.
"Tobirama has surely kept Madara's 'corpse' for research. I'll give him a little... distraction. Something urgent enough to keep his hands off the body."
"As long as no one realizes Madara is alive..."
The plan was airtight. Black Zetsu's wicked smile only deepened.
"Once Madara finishes grafting Hashirama's flesh, he'll be able to patiently await the awakening of the Rinnegan—the power of All Creation..."
As it fantasized about the day Madara would manifest the power of the Sage of Six Paths, its expression twisted into something utterly inhuman.
"And when that day comes..."
"It'll be my turn to act."
"Hm?"
Just as Black Zetsu was basking in the anticipation of a flawless plan, it noticed something odd.
Madara had suddenly stopped moving—and was stealthily hiding himself.
"Hm?"
Suspicion crept in.
"Could I have been discovered?"
Unlikely.
Its concealment came from Mother herself—it had once watched Indra undetected, and even the Sage of Six Paths couldn't perceive it.
But then, it realized why Madara had halted.
Black Zetsu, too, had seen the two men walking down a street in Konoha, conversing about Hashirama's condition.
One of them was none other than Senju Tobirama—the very man Black Zetsu planned to sabotage.
The other…
Initially, it dismissed the man as an ordinary shinobi.
After all, to Black Zetsu, everyone not named Hashirama was irrelevant.
Then it glanced at the man's face.
That single glance froze its thoughts—shattered its sense of time.
"…Wait…"
"Is this still… the same millennium?"
"How could it be…?"
"Did I just see Emiya Shihara?"