Chapter 42: Uchiha Madara
Three days ago, within the Land of Iron.
“The mountain’s graveyard… should be here.”
The white doll in Uchiha Kagami’s hand crumbled into ash, scattering in the cold wind. Dressed in a white haori marked with the insignia of the Sixth Division, Kagami gazed up at the towering mountain before him, his brow furrowing.
After undergoing Aizen’s complete soul and body transformation, Kagami now stood as one of the few individuals in the ninja world capable of matching that man’s power. His Zanpakuto, Kaikin, possessed an ability that was virtually unsolvable for any shinobi.
During his battle with Jiraiya, Kagami had revealed only a fraction of that power. Kaikin didn’t require direct contact—it simply needed the target to fall within his line of sight and inside a field of natural energy interference. Within that range, Kagami could strip away a person’s ability to breathe with a single command.
That fight against Jiraiya hadn’t been for victory—it had been an outburst, a vent for the suffocating frustration he carried. Because no matter how he looked at it, Kagami couldn’t figure out how to save Konoha from Aizen’s looming shadow.
He wasn’t blinded by hatred. He didn’t even believe Aizen bore genuine malice toward Konoha. But that only made it worse.
Kagami was a true believer in the Will of Fire, a man who sincerely believed that Konoha could one day illuminate the entire shinobi world. And yet, the existence of Aizen Sosuke made that conviction tremble.
He didn’t want to understand that man. Everything about him seed—inhuman. Even the Nidai, with his obsessive love for ninjutsu, seed approachable compared to Aizen.
The Sharingan was said to reflect the soul, and those of the Uchiha were sensitive to the hearts of others.
Aizen, at first glance, seed serene and gentle—like the moonlight. But the longer Kagami observed him, the clearer it beca that he was moonlight.
Cold. Reflective. Without warmth or will of its own. The moon only borrows light from the sun—it never creates its own.
Such was Aizen’s essence.
Unable to harm others? Holding expectations for humanity?
What a joke.
That man regarded people’s hearts as nourishnt—their emotions as fuel.
Kagami once heard that so predators, when not hungry, would keep their prey alive, feeding and fattening them for later. To him, Aizen Sosuke was that predator. Konoha was his pasture, and its people—its ideals—were rely feed for his ambition.
Everyone else turned a blind eye for their own reasons.
Hatake Sakumo pretended not to care, numbing himself with detachnt for his son’s sake. Kato Dan followed out of love and duty toward his beloved. The rest—all had excuses, reasons, weaknesses.
Only Kagami wanted to tear away Aizen’s mask and see what lay beneath.
But against Aizen, such defiance felt laughably small.
Aizen saw through everything—through them. He even explained his motives openly, dissected their fears, and left them powerless to respond. And worst of all, he genuinely didn’t care.
Faced with a man who could articulate the truth of your soul, yet remain completely indifferent to it, Kagami no longer knew how to live in such a world—or among such comrades.
So he ran.
Sakumo’s escape was emotional detachnt—pretending not to care so he wouldn’t have to feel. But Kagami’s was physical. He left Konoha, chasing missions far from Aizen’s presence, seeking answers only distance might grant.
This assignnt was ant to be simple: track down a suspicious group tailing Konoha, eliminate them, and return. Yet the mont Kagami encountered their creations—puppets woven from Wood Release, brimming with unnatural chakra—he knew this was sothing different.
And so, his pursuit led him here—to the mountain graveyard of the Land of Iron.
Before him lood an imnse range, scarred by age and hidden structures pulsing faintly with chakra. The energy radiating from within was chaotic, fractured, but undeniably powerful.
“This has to be a research base,” Kagami muttered, his crimson eyes flickering as he analyzed the terrain.
It wasn’t on par with Aizen’s Invisible Seireitei, but it was close—too close. This was no ordinary shinobi operation. The sophistication of the chakra network alone rivaled the joint facilities of the great villages.
“Another Aizen-like presence…” he murmured coldly. “If there’s soone like that here, I should eliminate him now—before he grows.”
“I think we can still talk about it,” ca a faint voice from the small gray doll in his hand, its cracked mouth twisting into a grin. “Maybe discuss… how to dance—”
“…”
Kagami’s eyes hardened.
The doll crumbled into dust, scattered by the wind.
Chapter 43: Uchiha Madara
The Wood Release puppets moved like shadows beneath the earth—nearly undetectable. They traveled through the ley lines and natural energy currents, shifting underground with unsettling speed and precision.
But Uchiha Kagami was not bound to the ground.
He soared through the skies, his white haori fluttering like a pale fla. Though his flight wasn’t as fast as teleportation, it was more than enough to outpace the underground constructs below.
The gray white puppets murmured ceaselessly in strange, fragnted voices—words no one could decipher. Yet through careful analysis, Kagami began to understand their movent patterns. Using his unique spiritual perception and the properties of his altered soul, he traced the convergence point where the density of these wooden entities was at its peak.
Logically, he should have reported his findings to Aizen imdiately. After all, this site could easily harbor a research faction that rivaled Seireitei’s scientific network.
But Kagami didn’t want to.
The last thing this world needed was another Aizen Sosuke.
One was already far too much.
And besides, thanks to Aizen’s own modifications, there were few in the entire shinobi world who could truly harm him now.
Which left him with only one choice.
Hovering high above the massive mountain range, Kagami’s threetomoe Sharingan began to spin—faster and faster—until the tomoe rged into a complex, triangular symbol.
The Zanpakutō in his hand, looking at first like a dead branch, began to tremble and sing with a high, sharp cry. Flas erupted out of thin air, surrounding the mountain. The sky darkened, ash falling like snow as heat waves distorted the air.
Kagami’s eyes narrowed. He had kept many of his powers hidden, even from Aizen. But to prevent another being like that from rising again, he was willing to reveal what he must.
He would bury this ambition—and its horror—within the flas of the shinobi world.
Only the Will of Fire could truly reshape this world.
That was the path Uchiha Kagami had chosen.
“It looks like a Bankai…”
A rasping cough echoed from within the mountain.
“Still, isn’t it a little rude to attack a man’s ho so suddenly?”
Kagami froze midair.
The mountain trembled beneath him, groaning like a living beast. Its rocky surface began to writhe, shifting as if sothing beneath was forcing its way out. Slowly, the mountain’s side cracked open, revealing a dark, yawning entrance.
A frail, coughing figure erged from within—a withered old man leaning on a cane, a massive fanlike weapon slung across his back.
He raised his head, squinting up at Kagami through a single remaining eye.
“A ninja of the Uchiha clan…” The old man’s voice rasped with age but carried a certain dreadful power. “It must be difficult… being toyed with by a younger man like Aizen.”
Kagami’s eyes sharpened. “Who are you?”
The old man chuckled hoarsely, tapping his cane against the stone. “If you truly bear the Uchiha na, there’s no way you don’t know who I am.”
Kagami’s breath caught for a mont. “You… can’t be—”
“You already have the answer in your heart, don’t you?”
“…But you died. At the Valley of the End.”
The old man smiled faintly, his cracked lips curling upward. “Hah. And you, Uchiha Kagami—didn’t you also die? Buried with Tobirama in that dood encirclent?”
Kagami’s voice trembled with restrained fury. “The Nidai and I sacrificed ourselves for the Will of Fire! Not like you—who betrayed both the village and your own ideals!”
“Betrayed?” The old man’s one eye glead darkly as he struck the ground with his cane. “You dare accuse , brat of the Uchiha clan?”
Despite his fragile body, there was still an unmistakable pressure emanating from him—an ancient authority that had once shaped the entire shinobi world. His movents were frail, but his presence was suffocating.
Kagami hovered above, torn by conflicting emotions. He knew exactly who this man was. The secrets he carried, the forbidden knowledge buried with him—the old weapons, the records of the Uchiha Shrine—all were said to have vanished when this man fell.
If they truly lay within this mountain, then before him stood the last key to the Uchiha clan’s greatest mysteries.
“Let’s speak plainly, young Uchiha.”
The old man stepped into the open, his silhouette frad by the dull light of the burning sky.
“That Aizen Sosuke… he can’t save this world. He’s powerful, yes—but his vision is flawed. You, however… you might be different. Co with . I’ll show you the truth of this world.”
Kagami’s gaze sharpened. “Who are you?”
The old man gave a low, dry laugh. “What a foolish question. You already know.”
“I want to hear it from your own mouth,” Kagami said coldly. His eyes flickered with both suspicion and dread. “I want to confirm it… truly.”
The elder chuckled darkly, his smile thin and cruel. “Ridiculous. Who in this world would dare impersonate ?”
He turned his back, slowly walking toward the shadows of the cavern.
“No impostor would have the audacity to claim my na. Even in my dying state, no pretender would dare.”
He stopped, tilting his head slightly toward Kagami, a faint smirk crossing his worn face.
“I am Uchiha Madara.”
His voice was calm—cold enough to freeze the air itself.
“It’s far too soon for you to comprehend the weight of that na.”
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