The night was silent.
A cool breeze drifted in through the window.
Emiya Shihara felt no chill—the body of Impure World Reincarnation rendered his senses no different from the dead. Yet still, like a living man, he walked over and shut the window.
Perhaps...
That's the only way to feel alive?
This house had been arranged by Senju Tobirama.
Although Shihara had no real need for a place to rest, he needed a quiet environment. The excuse he gave Tobirama was that he wanted to study this era's medical ninjutsu.
Of course…
There was an ANBU stationed nearby.
Not to monitor Shihara, per se, but to protect him—and to stand by for any requests he might make of Konoha.
In truth, Tobirama believed that a single thought would be enough to regain control of Shihara's reanimated body. But he chose to show a measure of respect, hoping Shihara wouldn't see the Impure World Reincarnation as mere coercion.
"Don't stay up too late. Get some rest," Shihara said casually as he closed the window, addressing the hidden ANBU beneath the windowsill. "Just bring me a map of the shinobi world tomorrow morning..."
"..."
The ANBU hesitated for a moment.
But remembering Tobirama's explicit orders, he vanished in a flash to report Shihara's request to the Hokage Tower.
"..."
A calm settled over Shihara's heart.
"I only left it one way out..."
He absently trimmed the wick of the oil lamp, murmuring to himself about Black Zetsu. "Why hasn't my old ally come to see me yet?"
Black Zetsu…
Why hasn't it shown up?
If its mind had truly been tempered by a millennium, then it must have realized by now—he, its former ally, was still its only true path forward.
Surely...
Surely it couldn't still be as gullible as it was a thousand years ago?
Candlelight flickered.
A long, inky shadow danced across the wall.
Something pitch-black emerged silently from the ground.
Just as Shihara was beginning to worry that Black Zetsu's intelligence had not improved over the centuries, its shadowy form soundlessly materialized behind him.
"…It's been a long time, Lord Shihara."
A voice cold and eerie brushed against his ear.
Lord Shihara.
A name spoken with both intimacy and reverence.
Only the slug he'd raised from birth used to call him that. But Black Zetsu, believing their bond to be close enough, would occasionally use it as well.
Though Black Zetsu always saw Shihara as a pawn in its schemes, it never dared to say so aloud. The gap in strength between them was too vast. At most, it could deceive and manipulate him—but never confront him directly. That title, Lord Shihara, was merely a familiar honorific cloaked in flattery.
"That voice…"
Shihara's body stiffened with disbelief, his fingers freezing mid-motion as he fiddled with the lamp's wick.
"It's me."
Black Zetsu's voice drifted like mist, its figure sinking once more into the floor. "If you still remember the one who once shared your dream... only to be betrayed by you, Lord Shihara…"
"I'm sorry…"
A trace of guilt flickered across Shihara's face.
As he bowed his head in apology, Black Zetsu reemerged from the ground directly before him, finally meeting him face to face.
"Surprised, aren't you, Lord Shihara?"
Black Zetsu stared at his guilt-ridden, visibly stunned expression, the tension in its body slowly easing, its mouth curling into a satisfied smile.
"I never expected… after enduring such a long and lonely existence, I would have the chance to see the great Lord Shihara of a thousand years past once again…"
"Indeed…"
Shihara studied Black Zetsu's current form.
It looked different than before—taller now, more mature. Like it had grown into adulthood over the long years.
"You've gotten taller… Black Zetsu."
A gentle smile appeared on Shihara's face, the same smile he once offered to both Black Zetsu and the slug so many years ago.
"..."
The smile on Black Zetsu's face froze.
The compliment—simple, nostalgic—caught it off guard, halting the confrontation it had carefully prepared. For a moment, it didn't know what to say.
This guy…
Why is he still like this?
Black Zetsu had planned to strike with venomous words—razor-sharp truths meant to awaken him from his naïveté. But his emotional punch had landed on cotton.
And before it could wound Shihara's soft, trusting heart, Shihara had already hurt himself. A shadow of sorrow crept across his reanimated face as he absently reached toward the flame, letting it flicker against his fingers.
"How wonderful…"
"After more than a thousand years…"
"I never thought I'd see an old friend again."
"This shinobi sect of the current era…"
"No… they call themselves 'shinobi' now."
Though his tone was light, there was a deep, inexpressible sadness in Shihara's face—one that even Black Zetsu could feel.
"Black Zetsu…"
"The shinobi of this era are truly remarkable."
"They managed to use the specimen I left behind for future generations to resurrect me—someone who died over a thousand years ago."
"You must be angry, Lord Shihara."
Black Zetsu sneered, its voice dripping with scorn as it echoed Shihara's thoughts. "This is the worst era, isn't it?"
"Is it?"
Shihara lifted his head, his voice tinged with irony. "The shinobi of this age tell me it's the best time they've ever known…"
"Of course it is!"
"For the descendants of the unworthy…"
"This is the greatest era in a thousand years!"
A grim smirk spread across Black Zetsu's face as it mocked the ancestors of modern shinobi: "Those unworthy beings who gained chakra—they waged war after war for profit and power, turning the world into a blood-soaked battlefield for centuries…"
"I spent a thousand years spreading your name, Lord Shihara. I made sure the shinobi knew of your dream—of that noble ideal born in the ancient days, that chakra was meant to save people from suffering. And yet… they continued to fight without end."
Naturally—
Black Zetsu conveniently omitted the fact that it had secretly incited many of those wars.
"Lord Shihara."
A sly smile crept across its face.
The moment had come. After over a millennium, it would finally ask the question it'd been longing to ask.
"You've seen the endless conflict of the shinobi…"
"You've heard of the chaos that lasted a thousand years…"
Black Zetsu watched as Shihara's face darkened, growing more and more satisfied. Now for the finishing blow.
"Now tell me, Lord Shihara…"
"Do you regret trusting Asura's foolish ideals back then?"
"..."
Shihara fell silent.
To Black Zetsu, that silence was an admission—a sign of speechless remorse. The smile on its face widened. It was about to press further when—
"Perhaps…"
Shihara's voice drifted like a sigh.
"It's too early to say."
He spoke as if lost in memory: "I remember the promise Asura made to me… He vowed to end the strife born of chakra. He swore to protect the weak, to prevent them from being trampled by the strong. He wanted chakra to become a force that would save people from suffering… even if it cost him his life."
"At the time…"
"I thought this world had fallen too far into absurdity to ever recover."
"But today I saw the new inheritor of Asura's chakra—a boy of this generation named Senju Hashirama. He is, fittingly, also one of Asura's descendants."
"I still recall the name 'Senju.' I gave it to Asura when we first met, one of the surnames I helped him choose for his future lineage."
"Senju… A name that signifies many hands reaching out together—humanity uniting to bring an end to suffering."
Shihara's voice grew lighter as he spoke of Hashirama: "I've heard tales of him. They say he united many people around him, ended the centuries of warfare, brought peace to a land consumed by chaos…"
"..."
The grim smile on Black Zetsu's face cracked.
No way…
You still believe in Asura?
You're still this naive and foolish?
After all this—after being betrayed once—you still believe in Asura and his descendants?
Come on…
Stop falling for their lies!
They're all deceiving you!
Can't you just be deceived by me instead?!