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The basement of the Hidden Rain fell silent as Black Zetsu completed the final seal. White Zetsu's form rippled and solidified into the unmistakable silhouette of Uchiha Madara.
The legendary ninja opened his eyes—crimson Sharingan blazing to life.
"It's been a long time," Madara said, his voice carrying the weight of centuries.
Black Zetsu exhaled. "The Moon Eye Project failed. Uchiha Obito is dead."
Madara's expression darkened. "Explain."
"Hanekawa learned the Flying Thunder God Technique. Obito wasn't careful enough." Black Zetsu's tone was flat, clinical. "One mistake. That's all it took."
The name hung in the air like a curse. Madara's jaw tightened. Flying Thunder God—the same technique that had claimed his brother Izuna decades ago. The same technique that had made Tobirama Senju a nightmare given form.
"He didn't use Izanagi?" Madara demanded.
"He did. It wasn't enough."
Madara turned away, processing. The Moon Eye Project—his grand design—crumbled before it could even begin. All because of one child from Konoha. One child with Wood Style that shouldn't exist outside the Senju clan.
"Resurrect me," he commanded. "Use Nagato's Rinnegan. The Samsara of Heavenly Life Technique."
"It will take time," Black Zetsu warned. "But yes. It's the only way."
---
Nagato sat in his chamber, meditating on his newfound power. The Rinnegan pulsed with potential—six paths of jutsu, infinite possibilities. He'd spent weeks mastering its basics under Madara's guidance.
When Black Zetsu arrived, Nagato didn't sense the deception.
"There's more to learn," Black Zetsu said smoothly. "The Outer Path Statue. The ultimate expression of the Rinnegan's power."
Nagato's eyes widened with interest. "Show me."
They descended to the basement. Black Zetsu began the sealing instructions, and Nagato's hands moved in the familiar patterns—
Then the black substance wrapped around his legs.
Panic flooded through him. He tried to activate Shinra Tensei, but his body wouldn't respond. His hands continued moving against his will, completing the seals for the Samsara of Heavenly Life Technique.
"What are you doing?!" Nagato struggled, but the black tendrils held firm.
"Your purpose has been fulfilled," Madara's voice emerged from the darkness. The legendary ninja stepped forward, his form coalescing from the shadows. "I am Uchiha Madara. The man you knew was merely a fragment of my will."
Nagato's world collapsed. Everything he'd believed—his power, his destiny, his role as the God of the New World—had been a lie. A tool. A means to an end.
"No—" he gasped.
"Your Rinnegan was always mine," Madara continued, almost gently. "You were always meant for this moment."
The seals continued. Nagato felt consciousness slipping away—
A blur of motion.
Paper fragments exploded through the basement, forcing Madara to leap back. Konan appeared in the doorway, her expression fierce.
"You're brave," Madara acknowledged, forming hand seals. "Foolish, but brave."
Fire Style: Great Fireball Technique!
A massive sphere of flame erupted from his mouth, consuming the paper in seconds. The temperature spiked, distorting the very air.
But Konan had already achieved her goal.
Hanekawa materialized beside Nagato, grabbing him just as Madara's genjutsu flashed across his vision. The Mangekyō Sharingan's scarlet light meant nothing to him—his mind was already elsewhere, already calculating the escape route.
Shinra Tensei!
Black Zetsu, still controlling Nagato, raised his hand. The repulsive force detonated outward like a bomb, sending everything flying.
Hanekawa didn't retreat. Instead, he advanced through the blast, his body crackling with Lightning Release Chakra Mode. The electricity formed a protective shell around him, allowing him to push through the invisible wave.
His palm connected with Nagato's chest.
Four Symbols Seal!
Black sealing marks erupted from his hand, spreading across both Nagato and Black Zetsu in an intricate pattern. The technique—an Uzumaki clan specialty—formed a vortex that began pulling them into a dimensional prison.
"Help!" Black Zetsu shrieked.
Hanekawa completed a second seal, layering the technique for extra security. Then he vanished.
Madara's eyes snapped open. His Mangekyō Sharingan transformed into the Rinnegan in an instant.
Shinra Tensei!
The repulsive force detonated with such violence that the entire basement collapsed. The ground fractured into a chasm, dirt and stone erupting skyward like a volcano.
Madara burst through the ceiling, his perception expanding across the entire Land of Rain. But there was no trace of Hanekawa. No chakra signature. No residual energy.
The Flying Thunder God Technique's range was apparently far greater than he'd anticipated.
Interesting.
Madara landed on the ruins of the village, surveying the destruction. Then—
A figure materialized before him.
Hanekawa stood calmly, hands at his sides. His expression was serene, almost amused.
"Senior Uchiha Madara," Hanekawa said, offering a slight bow. "Your reputation precedes you. I've been looking forward to this."
Madara studied him carefully. The boy—because that's what he was, despite the mature bearing—radiated an unusual confidence. And his Wood Style... it was wrong. Too powerful. Too refined.
"Descendant of the Senju?" Madara asked.
"You could say that," Hanekawa replied diplomatically.
Madara's lips curved into something that might have been a smile. "Then let me show you the difference between a student and the master."
He clapped his hands together.
Fire Style: Inferno Annihilation!
The sky itself seemed to catch fire. Flames erupted in a tidal wave, consuming the landscape, turning the earth to ash. The heat was so intense that the air shimmered and distorted.
Hanekawa's hands moved with practiced precision.
Water Style: Explosive Water Shockwave!
A torrent of water erupted from his mouth, a tsunami that collided with the flames. Steam exploded outward, thick and choking, obscuring everything.
From the mist, Hanekawa emerged.
Water Style: Hard Vortex Water Blade!
Water spiraled around his arm, condensing into a javelin of pure liquid force. It shot forward with devastating speed.
Madara vanished in smoke—a shadow clone.
The mist thickened. Hanekawa's perception expanded, tracking Madara's position through the haze. The trees around him suddenly erupted upward, vines and branches lashing out like serpents.
Wood Style: Tree Wall!
Madara's voice cut through the chaos. "You've learned Water Style too? Just like Tobirama."
Shinra Tensei!
The repulsive force detonated. Trees splintered. Vines shredded. The vacuum it created was absolute, leaving only bare earth and devastation.
Hanekawa was already gone.
Flying Thunder God Technique.
He reappeared behind Madara, water pressure building in his throat.
Water Style: Water Bullet Barrage!
Madara spun, his hand raised.
Universal Pull!
The suction force reversed Hanekawa's trajectory, pulling him forward. But Hanekawa had anticipated this—he was already moving, already vanishing.
Madara's expression hardened. This wasn't like fighting Hashirama, where raw power could overwhelm technique. This was like fighting Tobirama—speed, precision, adaptation.
Except this boy had both their abilities.
Impossible.
"You're formidable," Madara acknowledged, descending from the sky. "But you haven't seen my true power yet."
His body erupted with chakra—violent, overwhelming, ancient.
Susanoo!
The Perfect Susanoo materialized around him like a god of war. Armor of impossible complexity. Wings that blotted out the sky. Two massive swords that gleamed with lethal intent. The figure towered above the landscape, dwarfing everything around it.
Hanekawa didn't hesitate.
Wood Style: Wooden Arhat!
A colossal wooden statue rose to meet it. Carved with intricate detail, its hands raised in a defensive posture. The two titans faced each other across the ruined landscape.
Yasaka Magatama!
Six crescent-shaped projectiles erupted from Susanoo's form, each one trailing destructive energy.
The Wooden Arhat caught three in each hand, then hurled them back with equal force. The magatama collided mid-air, detonating in brilliant flashes.
Susanoo raised its swords.
The Wooden Arhat caught them bare-handed.
The collision sent shockwaves across the entire region. The ground fractured. The air itself seemed to scream. Neither side yielded an inch.
Madara's eyes narrowed. This was no longer a mismatch. This was a genuine contest of power.
He formed new seals.
Earth Style: Chibaku Tensei!
A black sphere materialized above the battlefield, growing larger with each passing second. Its gravitational pull was immense, drawing in debris, fragments, anything not anchored to the earth.
The Wooden Arhat's grip on Susanoo's swords weakened as the suction intensified. Its feet began to slide backward.
A wooden dragon erupted from its shoulders, coiling upward toward the sphere. It wrapped around the black mass, attempting to anchor it—
The suction intensified. The dragon was pulled in, crushed by the accumulating debris.
Susanoo's swords tore free.
Sword Strike!
The blades carved through the Wooden Arhat's shoulders, leaving deep gouges that bled sap.
The Chibaku Tensei continued to grow, absorbing the previous meteorites, becoming a planet unto itself. It descended toward the Wooden Arhat like the judgment of heaven.
The Hidden Rain fell silent. Ninjas stared upward at the approaching apocalypse.
"Is this the end?" someone whispered.
Then—
Hanekawa's eyes opened.
Red markings appeared between his brows—the seal of the Sage Mode.
His chakra erupted outward, a tsunami of power that made the very earth tremble. It was ancient. Primal. Overwhelming.
Sage Art: Wood Style: True Several Thousand Hands!
The seals flowed from his hands like water. The ground beneath him erupted.
A statue rose—no, ascended—into the sky. It was massive beyond comprehension. Thousands of arms arranged in perfect semicircles behind its back. Its form was serene, almost divine, carved with the precision of a master sculptor.
The True Several Thousand Hands dwarfed even the Perfect Susanoo. It was a monument to power itself.
Madara's expression froze.
"Impossible," he breathed. "Hashirama..."
But the figure before him wasn't Hashirama Senju.
It was something far more dangerous.
It was a child who had somehow inherited the power of legends.
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