Far beneath the surface of the world, hidden from light and life, an ancient figure sat upon a massive wooden throne.
His long white hair flowed freely behind him, stark against the endless darkness. Dressed in a dark robe, the old man sat with his eyes closed, his breath calm yet heavy with age and power.
The air around him twisted faintly, as if reality itself bent to his will. From the shifting ground emerged two pale humanoid forms, their bodies white as chalk, their hair light brown.
The old man slowly opened his eyes. Rings of purple ripples spread from his pupils — the unmistakable Rinnegan. Its gaze could make even the strongest of shinobi falter.
Behind him loomed an enormous humanoid figure — the Gedo Statue. Its body resembled ancient, withered wood, and nine of its eyes remained closed, with ten massive protrusions extending from its back like pillars.
Above it, countless white humanoid forms hung suspended, their faces eerily resembling the First Hokage, Hashirama Senju.
"Madara-sama, the message has been delivered," said the spiral-faced creature that had emerged from the ground.
Madara nodded lightly.
"Orochimaru has passed the message to Konoha. The Third Hokage has already dispatched Tsunade and Orochimaru to investigate," another white clone reported.
"As I expected," Madara replied with a faint smirk. "Sarutobi may preach Hashirama's so-called benevolence, but deep down, he's as hypocritical as any politician. And with that scheming rat Shimura Danzo whispering in his ear, they won't ignore the lure of a gold mine."
"Madara-sama, why inform Konoha at all?" the spiral-faced one asked curiously. "Wouldn't it be better to let the Hidden Rain take the mine for themselves?"
Madara's lips curled slightly. "I'm simply... looking for entertainment. Consider it a small dessert after a meal."
The spiral-faced clone tilted his head. "Dessert? Is that something that makes you... need to defecate?"
"..."
Madara closed his eyes briefly, ignoring him.
"The world has grown too quiet since the last Great Ninja War," he said softly. "Too stagnant. Without conflict, humanity forgets its purpose."
"After Hashirama's death, this peace has been nothing but suffocating."
His voice carried a strange mixture of nostalgia and disdain. "I hope these so-called five great nations won't disappoint me."
"Wouldn't that mean another war, Madara-sama?" the clone asked hesitantly.
Madara's eyes narrowed. "You're not even human, merely a fragment of my creation. Watch your tongue when speaking to your master."
The creature pouted slightly. "But you always said you hated war."
"I despise war's chaos," Madara replied, his tone calm but sharp. "But I'm not the one starting it. I'm merely... setting the stage. This gold mine is the spark — a simple nudge to make things interesting. For me, this is just a game."
He stared into the darkness, his expression distant. "You wouldn't understand. You're not Hashirama. If he were here, he'd know what I mean. Only with him could I truly feel alive."
His voice softened into something almost human. "Peace built on illusion cannot last. When Hashirama created the one village, one nation system, he planted the seeds of endless conflict. To protect love, people will fight. To preserve peace, they will wage war. It's the same cycle, the same curse."
Madara lifted a hand, touching the edge of his Rinnegan. "These eyes, born of our union, see the truth that Hashirama could not. Reality is suffering. The longer I live, the more I see the world for what it truly is — anguish, pain, loneliness."
He exhaled quietly. "Without you, Hashirama... I'm truly alone."
"Madara-sama," one of the white creatures asked cautiously, "were you and the First Hokage... close?"
The spiral-faced one slapped his companion's shoulder, whispering urgently, "Don't—!"
Too late.
Madara's expression turned contemplative. "Close? Perhaps. It was... special. I suppose you could say I understood him in ways no one else could. Back then, I'd lost a brother in battle — the grief was consuming."
"Then I met Hashirama. His optimism burned like the sun. He believed that no matter how much pain we endured, we should never lose faith in our path as shinobi."
Madara smiled faintly, though his eyes remained cold. "But he was a fool. The so-called ninja way doesn't heal wounds. The lost remain lost."
He fell silent for a moment, the memory playing behind his eyes.
The spiral-faced clone groaned. "Here we go again. Every time he starts reminiscing, it's 'Hashirama this, Hashirama that...'"
Madara ignored him completely. After nearly half an hour of reflection, his voice lowered. "I never thought I'd become this frail. Were it not for the Gedo Statue, I'd have perished long ago."
He chuckled softly, though the sound carried a trace of melancholy.
"How is Nagato?" Madara asked finally.
"In the Hidden Rain, everything proceeds as planned. The memories of his parents — and of Uzushiogakure — have been sealed," the spiral-faced one answered.
Madara nodded slowly. "Good. And the Uchiha clan? I instructed you to keep an eye on them — to find someone... interesting."
"Why are you always obsessed with children, old man?" the spiral-faced one muttered. "Aren't we entertaining enough?"
Madara glared sharply, and the clone shrank back. "Ahem... actually, I did find someone of note recently."
"Speak."
"The child is the son of Uchiha Kagami."
Madara's eyes widened slightly as he rose from his seat, leaning on a long staff carved from darkened wood.
"Kagami... I remember him. A gifted young man. I once thought he might inherit my will." His expression twisted into mild disgust. "But he became the disciple of that man — Tobirama Senju."
"Yes, the Second Hokage," the white clone said.
"An insufferable man," Madara said bitterly. "But he's long dead... and his death was fitting."
He began to laugh — low at first, then louder, until it turned into a hoarse cough that echoed through the cavern.
"Madara-sama!"
"I'm fine," Madara rasped, regaining his composure. His gaze hardened once more. "Tell me... who holds Kagami's Mangekyō Sharingan now?"
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