Chapter 239 – Uchiha Madara: This World Is Far Too Interesting!
"Shall we? I'll walk you home."
The others had already gone. Kitagawa Gen glanced at Ino beside him, hesitated for a beat, then finally spoke.
"It's getting late anyway."
"Then I'll trouble you, senpai."
Ino's pale-blue eyes sparkled as she smiled. Moonlight shimmered across her golden hair, streaked with silver where it caught the light—an image both elegant and striking.
Her gaze lingered on Gen, making him feel a little uneasy at first. But Ino was a master at reading people, as expected of a child from a prominent clan. And with Shikamaru as her teammate, she'd long ago learned to handle communication and coordination—otherwise, with Shikamaru and Chōji's personalities, their squad would never get anything done.
"Senpai, I really didn't expect your dream to be so… simple."
"Simple dreams are normal, aren't they? Everyone has their own."
Gen shrugged, smiling as he strolled through the silver-lit night breeze.
"I've no interest in declaring something like 'saving the world' or 'becoming Hokage at all costs.' Not that those dreams are bad, but… I don't need them."
"Too lofty?"
"No. Every dream is worth respect. But eventually, most people realize something: a calm, ordinary life is the truest happiness."
"Calm and ordinary…?"
Ino tilted her head, puzzled.
Gen chuckled and nodded. The words had been stirred from memory—an old song his parents used to love when he was a kid. He'd later added it to his own playlist, back when he was just another college student… maybe even right after a breakup. He couldn't hear it anymore, but the lyric had stuck.
"So, senpai… are you saying you're like the flowers you tend? Always the simplest?"
Her eyes glimmered with curiosity.
Gen laughed and shook his head.
"Not quite. Who doesn't want to shine? But for me, I don't feel the need to fight for it."
After all, Hokage was inevitable for him—his future was already carved out: From now on, I stand at the top.
With such a reality, why chase after anything else? Better to drift along, "wasting days" in peace. That, to him, was happiness.
"I see," Ino said softly, her hair stirring in the breeze as she tucked a lock behind her ear.
"Senpai is already like a flower blooming on the edge of a cliff, reaching toward the sky. No wonder you don't crave more."
"…Huh?"
"So instead, you'd rather root yourself in the forest—growing alongside others, not above them?"
"…"
"…Am I right?"
"You really do read too much into things," Gen said, caught between amusement and exasperation. She wasn't entirely wrong, but he refused to confirm it.
"Don't put me on a pedestal. Naruto and Sasuke are flowers too, aren't they?"
"They're different," Ino countered with a bright smile. "They're climbing toward the heavens. But you, senpai—"
"—am the same as you all," Gen interrupted quickly. "I sat through the same classes, got whacked by the same teachers, graduated the same as everyone else. No matter what else happens, we're the same."
The conversation was turning far too philosophical for his liking. His head was already starting to ache.
"So don't overthink it. I'm here. Always."
"…Yes!"
Ino stuck out her tongue playfully. She seemed satisfied with his answer, lifting her gaze to the star-flecked sky. Moonlight spilled through the canopy, dappling them in silver.
She wished this walk could last forever.
---
Rain Country – a desolate plain.
"Summoning: Impure World Reincarnation!"
Orochimaru's hands flashed through seals, summoning an intricate array that spread across the ground. With a grinding roar, a coffin burst upward from the earth.
"Tch. So you were prepared."
Obito scowled inwardly, though he kept silent. He knew the technique well—Orochimaru had used Edo Tensei countless times by now. Still, he had faith in himself.
Boom!
The coffin shattered with a single punch, its lid exploding into fragments.
A figure stepped forth.
Everyone watching drew sharp breaths.
Uchiha Madara.
Madara flexed his fingers, then spread both hands before him, savoring the sensation.
"So… it worked. At last, I walk among the living again."
But in the very next instant, his brow furrowed.
Something was wrong. His consciousness felt… tethered. He could sense Obito, even Nagato, nearby—but more troubling, a faint connection tied him to that pale-skinned creature lurking in the shadows.
And worst of all… he didn't feel alive.
"Edo Tensei, then?"
Madara murmured, realization dawning. He turned slowly toward the assembled figures.
"Would one of you care to explain why I've been summoned in this state?"
"We had… complications. This was the only option."
Black Zetsu sighed, stepping forward. His tone was calm, matter-of-fact.
"With your power, combined with Obito's—and Nagato's fully awakened Rinnegan—we can still move forward."
"Obito. Nagato."
Madara repeated the names under his breath, already grasping the implication.
So Obito had grown stronger. He couldn't yet see how. And Nagato… his Rinnegan had matured, and his body looked far sturdier than when Madara last knew of him.
"It seems much has changed since my death."
And though he didn't yet know why they'd risked summoning him in front of Nagato of all people…
After all, to Madara, Nagato had always been just a pawn for his resurrection. As for Black Zetsu—his "will made manifest"—it would not act without reason.
"It seems much has happened since my death. Then, why don't you explain it to me?"
"…A great deal has, yes. I suppose the story begins six years ago."
Black Zetsu let out a slow sigh before recounting events, starting from the fateful encounter between Uchiha Itachi and Jūzō Biwa.
From that moment, everything began to spiral into misfortune.
He spoke deliberately, while Madara listened intently. Having been dead for so long, he needed to absorb all the information of this era.
But the more he heard, the more Madara's expression shifted—from curiosity, to strangeness, and finally to a grim heaviness.
When Black Zetsu finally finished, even Madara, the man who had once laughed in the face of gods, wore a look of disbelief. The others present were no better; their faces were drawn and sour, weighed down by the memories of scars still fresh.
"To summarize…"
At last, Madara broke the silence, his voice deep and deliberate.
"…a man appeared in Konoha. An enigma who may well be a descendant of the Sage of Six Paths' younger brother—and he's awakened powers beyond comprehension?"
"That's correct," Nagato answered with a weary sigh. Though he distrusted Madara—especially since Obito had once impersonated him—he set that aside. For now.
"Dust Release. Wood Release. Sage Arts. Even the Flying Thunder God Technique. The man is… a prodigy. A phenomenon."
"Tch. Sounds like some grotesque fusion of Hashirama and that conniving wretch, Tobirama."
Madara's lips curled in disdain at the mere description.
"And the Senju left behind relics as well?"
"Yes. Here."
Black Zetsu pursed his lips. Obito stepped forward and handed Madara a piece of the so-called "Senju relic."
"Both Hashirama and Tobirama have also been reanimated. That's why—"
"Hashirama has returned? Excellent!"
Madara's eyes lit up, dismissing Tobirama entirely. That man had never earned more than contempt from him.
He glanced at the bark fragment, and with a mere touch, gleaned its secrets. This body he'd been given—its calibration was exquisite.
"So… the Sage's brother. And this so-called god who seeks to destroy the world—Ōtsutsuki Genshiki…"
Madara's chest rose and fell with something close to exhilaration. He'd only been gone for a few decades, yet the world had transformed into a stage more brilliant than he could have dreamed.
A possible heir to the Sage's bloodline, a godlike Ōtsutsuki with power to end worlds, the revelation that Kaguya Ōtsutsuki had been the "last god," and Hashirama himself walking the earth once more.
The world had never been so alive.
Now Madara understood why his "will" had taken such pains to restore Nagato, and why they'd dared summon him here. They needed power—distractions—frontline titans to seize attention while the grand plan advanced.
"…This world is far too interesting."
Madara's lips curved into a slow, eager smile. He was, after all, a warrior who lived for battle. The absurdity of this era only fueled his desire to test its mettle.
"So even that brat, Obito, has made unexpected gains, has he?"
He snorted lightly, then dismissed it with a wave of his hand.
"No matter. In the end, it's all the same."
His eyes gleamed with anticipation.
"It's about time I stretched my limbs… and prepared for my true resurrection."
---
Meanwhile, in Konoha, Kitagawa Gen stood before the towering trunk of the God Tree, his thoughts heavy.
Two figures wrapped in strange white cocoons hung from the bark—being reshaped, slowly, hideously—into new White Zetsu.
The cycle of transformation had begun once again.