Having decided to become jōnin instructors as a way of repaying Hiruzen Sarutobi for all the support and cultivation he had given them, Gojo Yoru and Uzumaki Kushina both treasured what little time they had left to go on missions together as a duo.
Because once March arrived next year, unless some emergency forced the village to reactivate Team Orochimaru, the two of them would likely spend several years unable to go on missions side by side.
So they decided to rest for only one week before heading right back out.
That week, Yoru's life stayed much the same as always.
In the daytime, he kept Kushina and Tsunade company. At night, he visited Konan in secret. Every so often, he also dropped by to see Orochimaru, using his space-time abilities to assist with various experiments.
Watching Orochimaru in a white lab coat—looking less like a doctor and more like a scientist—Yoru couldn't help thinking that the male character whose fate he had changed the most might not be Nagato, who had become Konan's subordinate, nor Yahiko, who had exploded onto the world stage in the past two years as Hanzō's only student. It might not even be Minato Namikaze, who now very likely wouldn't die in the future and might go on to master Flying Thunder God and Sage Mode.
No, the one most deeply affected by him was probably the man standing right in front of him: Orochimaru.
If Yoru hadn't intervened, Orochimaru should've already become one of Danzō's people and allies by now. He should've already come into contact with Hashirama's cells and begun tinkering with Wood Release test subjects.
His obsession with immortality would have twisted his personality, ruined Hiruzen's opinion of him, and slowly killed off his chances of ever becoming the Fourth Hokage.
But now, backed by both Hiruzen and Yoru, Orochimaru didn't even bother taking seriously a watered-down version of the Anbu that Danzō had pieced together into Root using his privileges as the Hokage's advisor.
And as the teacher of the Embodiment of a Miracle, he had no interest whatsoever in reviving Wood Release.
No matter how strong Wood Release was, could it compare to a space-time bloodline?
Over these five years, Orochimaru had occasionally gone to Ryūchi Cave in search of a chance to train in sage arts. Other than that, he spent his time researching ninjutsu and studying space-time. Life had been very comfortable.
As for his strength, he was basically a toned-down Hiruzen Sarutobi.
Once he mastered Ryūchi Cave Sage Mode, he'd become a full Kage-level monster.
Beep beep beep—
Inside a room specially reinforced and clearly built to test something, Yoru casually tossed an energy sphere inside.
A string of alarms immediately went off.
The room began flashing with bright red warning lights, and screens embedded in the walls lit up with streams of data Yoru couldn't make heads or tails of.
Outside the room was a laboratory packed with scientific equipment.
A number of ninja in white lab coats bustled around inside.
Through thick reinforced glass, Orochimaru watched the energy sphere transform into a miniature black hole, tearing apart every object in the room. Even the wall-mounted screens displaying all those unreadable numbers were ripped free by the invisible pull and sucked in, quickly collapsing into nothing.
In front of him sat a computer, also streaming incomprehensible data.
Yoru walked over and leaned against the desk with one hand, clearly interested.
"Orochimaru-sensei, after messing around with this for so long, have you made any breakthroughs?"
Orochimaru didn't take his eyes off the room, but a smile appeared on his face.
"If I hadn't made any progress, this project would have been shut down a long time ago. Why would I keep calling you over every so often to help? And every single test destroys an entire data chamber like this. No matter how rich the village is, they wouldn't let us keep burning money like this for nothing."
Yoru hadn't expected that answer at all. His face lit up with surprise.
"So the research into space-time really has made progress? What kind of breakthrough? A technique, or an external tool?"
"You'll know when the time comes. Right now it's only a breakthrough in theory. It may still take years before there's any concrete result."
Orochimaru offered no real explanation. Instead, he suddenly changed the subject.
"Oh, right. I went to the Academy to teach a while ago, and I found a very promising student in the first-year class. In another couple of years, I'm thinking of taking on another student."
"Oh?"
Yoru's attention shifted at once. A figure flashed through his mind, and he smiled.
"To catch your eye in first year, Orochimaru-sensei, they must be a real prodigy. Boy or girl?"
"A rather interesting girl."
At last Orochimaru turned slightly and glanced sideways at him, still wearing that gentle smile.
"I can't help it. My most prized student refuses to learn my Great Snake-style techniques, so I have no choice but to find another student suited to inheriting my mantle. That reform idea you gave Tsunade was pretty interesting. Electives don't just let commoner students develop useful specialties—they also draw out a genius's potential much faster, letting them find out early what kind of path suits them best."
"Ahem… Kushina wants me home for dinner, Orochimaru-sensei. Come by my place for tea sometime."
Yoru coughed lightly, then vanished in a flash.
Over the next few days, Yoru also went to the Ninja Academy to teach.
After the reforms, the gap between geniuses and ordinary students had only grown wider.
Before, everyone had studied the same basic ninjutsu and academic material. Now there were electives. Once you passed one, you could choose another. Talented students became even more dazzling, while mediocre ones only seemed more average.
To keep ordinary students from losing heart, the school had set up an elite class, gathering the gifted together so they could compete with one another. It also allowed geniuses to either stay the full six years or graduate early during any school year.
The elective system was meant to help students cultivate a specialty, so alongside the standardized fundamentals, the Academy regularly invited ninja who excelled in those fields back to teach.
As the shinobi most famous for his instant movement, and the super-genius who had developed an entire series of techniques by age twelve, Gojo Yoru was naturally invited back again and again.
Every time he came to the Academy, it felt like a celebrity returning to their old school.
Even if he was only teaching one elective, the classroom would be packed. Students who hadn't even signed up for that course would crowd outside the windows and doors.
This time, however, teaching was only secondary. Yoru's real goal was to observe the new generation from Kakashi Hatake's class and quietly choose his next two subordinates.
Even among the elite class, the gifted students had formed their own little circles. They even planned early graduation together.
After chatting around and gathering information, Yoru discovered that there were quite a lot of students already applying to graduate early in the upcoming year-end exam—more than ten, in fact.
But after thinking it over, it made sense.
There were barely any elite classes left in the upper grades. The students who remained no longer dared to casually call themselves geniuses.
Uchiha Obito was also in the elite class. The Uchiha naturally came with strong Yin Release talent and a gift for Fire Release. As long as they picked the right electives, even a dead-last student could be polished into a so-called prodigy.
Since Kakashi and Rin were applying to graduate early, there was no way Obito would be willing to fall behind.
After a few days of teaching, Yoru had already decided who he wanted as his subordinates. He planned to tell Hiruzen after the graduation exam next year.
But he had no idea that disaster sometimes arrived before tomorrow ever did.
And he certainly didn't know that a conspiracy was already closing in on him.
"Madara-sama, one of my clones picked up new information. That space-time shinobi from Konoha has been going to the Academy a lot lately to teach classes. He's paying very close attention to the elite class that includes Obito and the others. Based on what my clone found, do you think that space-time shinobi is planning to switch over and become a jōnin instructor?"
In the familiar underground chamber, White Zetsu rose halfway out of the earth and reported to Uchiha Madara, who looked even older and frailer than he had five years ago. He spent most of his time asleep now, only waking for truly important matters.
As he spoke, White Zetsu voiced the concern he'd been holding onto.
"If he really is planning to become a jōnin instructor, and Obito somehow ends up assigned under him… would that affect our plans?"
Madara opened his familiar three-tomoe Sharingan and stared at White Zetsu.
"So you went and monitored Gojo Yoru again behind my back?"
"No, absolutely not."
White Zetsu shook his head repeatedly and hurried to explain.
"Three years ago, one of my clones almost got caught by his sealing techniques and space-time ninjutsu and only survived by turning into a small tree in time. Ever since then, I haven't had any clones use Mayfly to sneak into Konoha. Instead, I've been attaching Spore clones to outsiders, then once they enter the village, transferring them to ordinary villagers and replacing those villagers with the Impersonation Technique after learning their lifestyle."
"I was worried the Nine-Tails jinchūriki's Mind's Eye of the Kagura might have developed something like Uzumaki Mito's sensing of malice, so those clones have only been acting as replaced villagers, doing their best to avoid crossing paths with either the Nine-Tails jinchūriki or the space-time shinobi."
"But even now, I still don't know whether it was his own sensing ability or the Nine-Tails jinchūriki's Mind's Eye of the Kagura that noticed my clone."
"Then test it and find out which one it was."
Madara clearly didn't care. He simply asked, "How's the collection going?"
"It's mostly complete."
White Zetsu pulled out several huge scrolls from somewhere and reported,
"Other than powerful people like the Second Kazekage, Shamon, who died under mysterious circumstances and left no recoverable body in his grave, I've gathered tissue samples from nearly every major deceased figure from the great ninja villages."
"Good."
At last, Madara showed a real smile.
"There is no bloodline limit or technique in this world that's perfect. Even a space-time bloodline must have its flaws and weaknesses. Even if that boy really has patched up his sensing weakness, he still won't truly be invincible."
"Since his space-time release is an instant-kill ability, then the right way to deal with him is simple—send someone he can't kill."
White Zetsu couldn't hold back his question.
"Madara-sama, if you already know Edo Tensei, then why didn't you just assassinate him five years ago? When he sleeps, he can't merge into space. That had to be the best possible chance to kill him."
"You think other people haven't thought of that too?"
Madara looked at White Zetsu like he was an idiot and shot back,
"In these last five years, has anyone successfully assassinated him?"
"No." White Zetsu shook his head.
"Exactly. Even you, with Mayfly, can't get close to him. So how could anyone else? That boy is one of the top assassins in the entire shinobi world. He's the same type as Tobirama—ninjas like that might not always have overwhelming raw power, but they're filled with traps and schemes."
"When you think you've found one of their weaknesses, it might just be bait. A trap laid out specifically to catch someone like you."
"How do you know that the body he's sleeping in is even his real body and not a shadow clone? If you attack and it turns out to be a clone, not only will your assassination fail, you'll expose yourself. His real body might already be hidden inside space itself, lying in wait to seal you or kill you."
Madara glanced sideways at White Zetsu and twisted the knife a little further.
"If not for the fact that you can abandon a clone at will, and that the White Zetsu bodies I grew from Hashirama's cells barely have brains to begin with, your existence and all the information in your head would've been exposed long ago."
"That guy really is vicious."
For once, White Zetsu didn't argue. He nodded.
"To deal with that type, you don't move during the period when he's most alert. You wait until he's drunk on success, full of confidence, and careless. That's when you land the killing blow."
"Even if the killing blow doesn't work, you'll still exchange information with him. That won't interfere with what I plan to do next."
"Five years is more than enough to make someone arrogant."
Once Madara finished speaking, he began issuing orders.
"Produce a White Zetsu clone. I want to run an experiment and see whether one of your clones can be used as the sacrifice for Edo Tensei."
"Yes."
White Zetsu nodded.
Before long, a White Zetsu clone rose out of the ground.
Madara used both hands to push himself a little more upright in his stone seat, then looked to White Zetsu and asked,
"Did you recover tissue from Tobirama?"
"Yes."
"Give it to your clone."
"Yes."
Madara lifted a withered hand and used Yin-Yang Release to create a special black rod, covered in tadpole-like script.
Once the White Zetsu clone took the tissue sample, Madara casually flicked the rod out.
With a wet, puncturing sound, it stabbed into the White Zetsu clone.
Madara formed hand seals and coldly intoned,
"Ninja Art — Impure World Reincarnation."
"AAAAAAH—!"
The White Zetsu clone let out a shriek of pain so miserable it was almost unbearable to hear. White dust rose from the ground and wrapped around his body, quickly cocooning him into something that looked like a living mummy.
Then, just like the Transforming Technique, that white cocoon slimmed down into a human outline. Even its chakra signature changed.
As color rapidly filled in, the previously pure white White Zetsu clone had transformed into a man covered in cracks, wearing blue combat armor, with long silver hair, black-red eyes, and a cold expression.
It was none other than the younger brother of the God of Shinobi, the man who had founded the Academy system, the ranking system, the promotion system, and the Anbu—systems later copied by all nations.
The Second Hokage.
Senju Tobirama.
"You're— Madara!"
The instant Tobirama's consciousness returned to the world of the living, his eyes locked onto the man before him.
Even though the face in front of him was ancient now—nothing like the terrifying, domineering "Shinobi Asura" with overwhelmingly evil chakra from his memory—Tobirama still recognized Uchiha Madara at a glance.
Without a moment's hesitation, his fingers twitched. A burst of chakra exploded from his body, so intense it startled even White Zetsu.
Then Tobirama instantly appeared in front of Madara, intent on striking a fatal blow against this frail-looking old man who seemed barely able to lift a chicken.
Smack.
The killing strike never came.
Instead, Tobirama dropped face-first to his knees in front of Madara in a perfect full-body kneel.
A foot came down on the back of his head.
Madara looked down at him with complete contempt and disgust.
"Trash like you doesn't deserve to look me in the eye. And your face reminds me of things I'd rather not remember. From now on, you can speak to me on your knees."
Tobirama didn't rage.
He calmed down almost instantly.
Sensing his own condition, disbelief flashed across his face.
"This… this is my Impure World Reincarnation technique. And not just that—this is an improved version of it?!"
"Heh. It's only Edo Tensei. Was it really supposed to be difficult?"
Madara sounded disdainful, but internally he was just as shocked.
What was going on?
According to the records in the Scroll of Sealing, the dead summoned by Edo Tensei should only be able to bring out a fraction of their former power. And if the caster wasn't strong enough, they wouldn't even be able to suppress the dead person's will.
So why was Tobirama's strength almost exactly the same as it had been in life?
In an instant, Madara figured out the answer, and the look in his eyes turned complicated.
He hadn't improved the technique itself at all.
If the issue wasn't with the formula, then it had to be the sacrifice.
The White Zetsu clones had been grown from Hashirama's cells.
And Madara's own Rinnegan had only awakened because he had implanted Hashirama's cells into himself.
Was it really possible that just a little of Hashirama's flesh could elevate an imperfect Edo Tensei into something this close to flawless?
Hashirama… as expected of you.
Pinned under Madara's foot, Tobirama couldn't see Madara's expression.
Hearing what had been said, he calmed down further, replayed the scene from moments ago, and then connected it with something he had discovered and suspected back when he was alive.
Madara had no idea what kind of monster he was dealing with intellectually.
"Madara, so you really didn't die back then. The reason you were able to fake your death and fool both my brother and me… was because you used the Uchiha forbidden technique Izanagi, plus a Transcription Seal, wasn't it?"
Tobirama said it with total certainty.
Madara didn't praise him. He only sneered and added,
"And I know exactly the kind of filthy, underhanded man you are. I knew you'd never destroy my corpse. You wouldn't even return it to the Uchiha. You'd hide it away and study it in secret."
Tobirama said nothing.
He kept thinking, then used mockery as a form of probing.
"You're down to your last breath and yet you still dragged me back from the Pure Land with Edo Tensei. Don't tell me you were scared that once you died, you'd never get to see me again. Or maybe you just wanted someone to humiliate one last time. Or were you afraid you'd get lost on the way to the afterlife, so you brought me back to serve as your guide?"
"Heh. You'll never know my plans."
Because he knew Tobirama too well, Madara refused to reveal anything, even though Tobirama was completely under his control. He simply shifted topics instead.
"Still, I'll admit one thing. The techniques you left behind have been surprisingly useful."
"Konoha has produced two users of Flying Thunder God in this era. One of them is the so-called Embodiment of a Miracle, because he possesses a never-before-seen, space-time bloodline."
Tobirama was finally pulled away from his earlier train of thought. His eyes widened.
"A space-time bloodline? You're saying someone in this era can actually convert chakra into space-time nature transformation? That's impossible! Space-time power is like the natural energy my brother drew upon in Sage Mode—it stands outside Yin, Yang, and the five elemental natures. In fact, it's even more high-dimensional than natural energy itself."
"At most, chakra should only be able to borrow space-time power. How could someone possibly turn chakra into a space-time nature? Wouldn't that make him the first person in history to wield an offensive-type space-time ninjutsu?!"
As a mad scientist in his own right, Tobirama's first instinct was to think Madara was lying.
But he knew Madara didn't stoop to lies.
Which meant—
it was true.
For a thousand years of war, nothing like that had ever appeared.
And yet now, in this later era, it had.
Was this era really that absurdly spectacular?
"Whether it's real or not, you'll find out soon enough."
Madara's smile was mocking.
"Thanks to your Edo Tensei, I now have the means to move pieces again. In this body, I can't act personally anymore—but through you, I can still throw the shinobi world into chaos."
"From this day forward, you are my proxy."
Then his smile turned vicious.
"Don't worry. I'll make sure you become the greatest villain the shinobi world has ever known."
"Madara, you bastard—!"
Tobirama's eyes finally widened in real fury.