Land of Fire, Konohagakure.
The news of the successful graduation of the Senju clan's blood heir—the grandson of the Second Hokage—sparked no small stir within the village.
People speculated about the future accomplishments of the young boy, their gazes drifting to the towering Hokage Rock with a tinge of nostalgia.
After all, he was a Senju.
Naturally, everyone began comparing Senju Yukika to the First and Second Hokage. Whether the Senju clan would remain in decline or rise to shine once more now rested on the shoulders of a ten-year-old child.
His graduation meant something greater—it signified that he was the next head of the Senju clan!
...
Northern Region of the Land of Hot Water.
In a secluded mountain ravine near the borders of the Land of Rain and the Land of Earth, droplets echoed from the pitch-black mouth of a cave. Beyond the dim passageway, the scenery opened up to reveal a vast chamber.
Beneath a monstrous, grotesque stone statue, an elderly man with snow-white hair sat silently with eyes closed, meditating.
Rustle.
The earth stirred, and the old man's eyes snapped open!
Lines of age carved deep into his weathered face, his wild, unkempt hairstyle hinted at a past filled with glory. Though his gaze seemed tranquil, sharp glints flashed from time to time, cutting through the cave's shadows like blades.
"Lord Madara."
He was Uchiha Madara—the man who schemed for the fate of the shinobi world throughout his entire life!
The ground ceased its writhing as a slick, dark figure emerged from beneath the soil. With oily black skin and a naturally villainous face, his identity needed no explanation.
"Right now, you should be keeping your eye on him."
Though his voice was calm, the weight of authority was unmistakable, enough to make Black Zetsu swallow nervously.
Even though Black Zetsu saw Madara as a pawn, he couldn't deny that the oppressive aura this man exuded was innate.
Back in Konoha, when Madara had merely reached out to help a fallen girl to her feet, the child had burst into tears in terror.
That was the kind of presence Uchiha Madara possessed.
But the person Madara referred to...
"Nagato poses no issue," Black Zetsu replied. "But White Zetsu brought back something interesting. I believe you'll want to hear it."
"It's about the Senju..."
Senju?
The name stirred something.
Madara's eyes flickered with a blend of nostalgia and contempt.
How pitiful.
"Senju?" he murmured. "After Hashirama, there are no more true Senju."
Indeed. The only man Madara ever acknowledged as worthy of the Senju name had already died. Even those who came after, who chose to abandon their clan name and merge into the so-called village, would fade away in the annals of history.
Madara could already see it happening.
A village being the path to peace? How naive.
Hashirama.
"Lord Madara..."
Black Zetsu sighed as Madara sank into reflection. The old man had grown sentimental in his age, always reminiscing about the past.
But now was not the time for him to die.
Nagato's Rinnegan still lacked many functions—it couldn't even summon the Gedo Statue yet.
And the successor who could truly carry on Madara's will had yet to appear.
"Continue," Madara ordered, snapping out of his reverie.
Black Zetsu gave a slight nod. "White Zetsu delivered two pieces of news."
"The first is about the successor you've had us watching. According to our analysis, Uchiha Fugaku does not qualify to be your..."