Prejudice is a mountain.
Most people take it as a given that the White Zetsu are sinister, deceitful creatures—evil beings who will stop at nothing for some vague, unreachable goal.
But if one were to look past that bias—
isn't it possible that they could become good Zetsu?
Selfless beings who would dedicate themselves wholly… to Hajime?
In this era, all White Zetsu have been brainwashed into servants of the God Tree,
but in essence, they were once shinobi of the ancient age—
men and women who had fallen under Infinite Tsukuyomi,
hung upon the God Tree, and slowly desiccated over time.
That, at least, was how Hajime understood it.
In a sense, though they were far from the true "fruit" of the Tree,
they were things that had grown from it.
And if they came from a tree…
then, perhaps, they could be juiced.
Who's to say their sap wouldn't be rich in nutrients?
After all, the last time he'd "sampled" one,
he had indeed reaped some impressive benefits—
despite the stomach pain that followed.
So now, Hajime's thoughts once again turned toward White Zetsu.
He saw in them a potential means for an ordinary ninja
to transcend the limits of his own bloodline.
A tragic and ironic notion—but an unavoidable one.
Everyone knew it:
normal ninjas and those with Ōtsutsuki blood were two entirely different species.
Without extreme, body-breaking modifications,
the ceiling for an ordinary shinobi was low—and absolute.
But if his "White Zetsu experience-pack" theory held true,
then perhaps Hajime could break that ceiling.
The White Zetsu might not live gloriously—
but they could at least die gloriously.
To test his idea, Hajime's first task was simple:
catch another one.
Easier said than done.
White Zetsu were elusive creatures, masters of hiding.
Black and White Zetsu had lurked unseen for a thousand years,
pulling strings, steering the course of history,
and yet not once had they been discovered.
That alone proved how well they could conceal themselves.
Fortunately, Hajime was different.
Now, he was "Zetsu-Man"—
partly one of them.
In fact, he could literally sense them.
Whenever another White Zetsu came within range,
so long as Hajime's body was partially "Zetsu-fied,"
they would instantly become aware of each other's presence.
"White Zetsu, White Zetsu… where would you hide if you were me?"
Hajime could hardly wait to test his theory.
In his imagined path to power, the division of labor was clear:
White Zetsu were to sacrifice themselves;
he, to level up.
A true win–win.
Unfortunately, there were no White Zetsu to be found in these remote mountains.
They were busy surveilling the entire ninja world.
Just as he began to worry about how to acquire a fresh "sample,"
luck came knocking again.
On the fifth day after they'd settled at the camp,
while Hajime was practicing the Ephemeral Technique,
his half-Zetsu body suddenly received a strange signal.
When he let the transformation spread to his brain,
the signal's meaning became clear—
It was a rallying call.
All nearby White Zetsu were being summoned to gather at a certain location.
Talk about manifestation—
the "experience packs" were about to show up,
and in bulk, no less.
It was an opportunity too good to miss.
The risk was real, but the payoff could be enormous.
Hajime decided instantly: he would attend.
Blending in among them, the chance of exposure was minimal.
He called for his two lieutenants.
Yumiya Iekawa was now Morinaga Iekawa,
and Yumiya Ryunosuke had become Hayasaka Ryunosuke.
"The camp's stable enough for now," Hajime told them,
"but that doesn't mean we can sit idle.
I plan to scout the surrounding area—
we need intel on the Tsugawa clan's movements.
And we're low on supplies.
If possible, I'll bring back some grain.
We can't live on fishing and hunting forever."
It was a perfectly reasonable plan; neither man objected.
"Captain, how's your injury?" Ryunosuke asked.
"Completely healed."
"Understood. We'll hold the camp. Please, be careful."
"Good. I'm not sure how long I'll be gone,
but I'll return as soon as I can."
He packed light—just a few tools and essentials—
and set off into the forest.
"The captain… he's really changed," Iekawa murmured,
watching Hajime's silhouette fade into the trees.
"Captain," Ryunosuke corrected gently, then added,
"Responsibility makes people grow."
Once, Hajime had been a mere average ninja.
Now, he was the pillar of everyone's faith.
The information White Zetsu transmitted to him was difficult to put into words.
It wasn't language or even thought—
more like a magnetic pull.
He couldn't get coordinates from it,
only direction—
a constant sense of where the gathering point lay,
whether he was getting closer or farther, higher or lower.
Following that instinct,
Hajime moved steadily through forests and rivers,
letting the current of intuition guide him.
He emerged from the morning mist as sunlight
filtered through the clouds in pale ribbons,
glinting on the winding stream below.
The forest shimmered with life—
and so did his spirit.
Two days later,
he reached the designated area.
Before proceeding, he transformed completely—
a full "White Zetsu form."
Then, scanning his surroundings,
he spotted what he was looking for:
a cave hidden beneath the trees.
Rather than walk through the entrance,
he used the Ephemeral Technique,
phasing silently through solid rock.
His face emerged from the inner wall of the cavern,
and he took a moment to observe the inside—
then passed through fully.
Inside, over a dozen White Zetsu had gathered.
They stood like pale roots,
a row of radishes holding a meeting.
Aside from his transformation, Hajime hadn't bothered
to disguise his features at all.
He wasn't worried.
Who among them would question a fellow Zetsu?
"Why do you look like that?"
One nearby Zetsu asked, its tone curious but not suspicious.
Why would they doubt him?
At this moment, Hajime was indistinguishable from them.
"Bad luck," Hajime replied smoothly.
"Got caught in a ninja's area-of-effect jutsu—nearly died.
Managed to parasitize this host in time.
Using his chakra kept me alive."
"Unfortunate," the White Zetsu said blandly.
Its tone carried no sympathy, no relief.
To them, life or death meant nothing.
They were not human; empathy wasn't in their design.
Caring for comrades?
That wasn't part of a White Zetsu's programming.
They existed only to serve Mother,
to stir chaos, to monitor the world,
to seek the Rinnegan—
and, apparently, to care deeply about… vegetables.