Chapter 383: Edo Tensei, Uchiha Madara
The sun dipped low in the western sky, casting long, bleeding shadows across Konoha. Inside the Hokage's office, golden afterglow spilled through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, washing over the cluttered expanse of the central desk.
Uchiha Akira sat in the high-backed leather chair, his posture relaxed.
A few paces away, Tsunade sprawled across the long sofa, dead to the world. Her blonde hair spilled in a messy halo around her flushed cheeks, rising and falling in rhythm with her slow, even breaths. The tight fabric of her clothing strained against her impressive curves, outlining a stunning silhouette bathed in the dying light.
Akira rested his chin on his knuckles, his dark eyes softening as he watched her sleep. He made no move to wake her.
Instead, he reached out and plucked a sealed document from the top of the stack. A situational report from Nara Shikaku. Akira's gaze swept over the lines of text, absorbing the tactical data in seconds. He uncapped a pen, the nib scratching quietly against the parchment as he signed his name.
"You're back?"
The voice was thick with sleep. On the sofa, Tsunade shifted, her eyelids fluttering open. She blinked against the glare of the sunset, her gaze finally landing on the familiar figure behind the desk.
She pushed herself up, rubbing at her sleepy eyes and stifling a long yawn. Her tone carried a lazy, husky edge. "Is the matter resolved?"
Akira set the pen down. He leaned back into the leather upholstery, his eyes tracing the form of the woman possessing the finest figure in the entire Ninja World. A faint, amused curve touched his lips.
"I wiped out the Akatsuki. That particular problem is solved."
Tsunade froze. Her hand dropped from her face.
The Akatsuki. A gathering of the most terrifying S-Rank Rogue Ninjas in existence. A syndicate so dangerous that even the Five Great Ninja Villages treated their movements with extreme caution.
And Akira had just gone out for a stroll.
Now they were gone?
"More or less," Akira added casually. He stood up, walking over to the side table to pour a cup of warm tea. He took a slow sip, letting the liquid soothe his throat. "Either way, they won't be stirring up any more trouble."
"You... you guy..." Tsunade stared at his impossibly youthful face.
A complicated knot of emotions tightened in her chest. There was the fierce pride of a Konoha kunoichi, but beneath that lay something deeper. A deep, quiet reliance.
Years ago, she had been one of the legendary Sannin, a warrior who charged into the bloodiest battlefields to protect the village. She had carried the weight of the world on her shoulders.
But now, looking at the man sipping tea in her office, she knew that even if the sky itself shattered and fell, he would simply reach up and hold it in place.
It was a suffocating, absolute sense of security. Something she had never tasted in her decades of wandering and gambling.
"What about Amegakure, then?" she asked, her voice dropping a fraction.
"Already taken over." Akira crossed the room, stepping into her personal space. He reached out, his arm naturally sliding around her narrow waist, pulling her flush against him. The tactile sensation was flawless. "From now on, the Village Hidden in the Rain serves as our private resource transit hub."
Tsunade stiffened for a fraction of a second at the sudden contact, her body instinctively reacting to his heat, before she melted against his chest.
Then, her eyes narrowed. "You... where exactly are you putting your hand?"
She slapped at his wandering fingers, her cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and feigned anger. "This is the Hokage's office!"
Akira chuckled, a low, vibrating sound. He leaned in, his breath brushing the sensitive shell of her ear.
"So what if it's the office?" he murmured. "I am the Hokage. I can do whatever I want."
...
A few days later. The Land of Rice Fields.
Deep underground, the air in the hidden base smelled of formaldehyde, damp earth, and rotting scales.
"Cough... cough..."
Orochimaru leaned over the steel experimental table, his pale, sickly face illuminated by the harsh fluorescent light. He held a glass test tube up to eye level, his golden, slit-like pupils tracking the violent cellular reaction boiling within the green fluid.
"Uchiha Akira..."
A sickeningly greedy light flared in the Sannin's eyes. His long tongue snaked out, licking the corner of his mouth.
"That body... those eyes..." he whispered, his voice a raspy hiss. "If I could just get my hands on them... it would be worth dying for."
Before his twisted fantasies could fully materialize, the air in the darkest corner of the laboratory warped.
The spatial distortion whined softly. Orochimaru spun around on his heel, his sleeves rustling as three venomous vipers slithered down his wrists, their fangs bared. He locked his gaze on the swirling vortex.
A man wearing an orange spiral mask stepped out from the dimensional rift.
Orochimaru's tense shoulders relaxed slightly. He narrowed his eyes, and the vipers retreated into the dark folds of his robes.
"Oh, it's Obito-kun." Orochimaru let out a dry, grating laugh. "What brings you here? Isn't the Akatsuki busy gathering? How do you have the leisure to visit my dilapidated little hole in the ground?"
Obito ignored the mocking tone. He walked straight past the Sannin, his heavy boots clicking against the stone floor, and stopped at the experimental table.
The air rippled around his eye hole. From the Kamui dimension, a small sealing scroll materialized in his gloved hand.
He tossed it onto the metal surface. It landed with a dull thud.
"What is this?" Orochimaru tilted his head.
Obito stared at the pale scientist, his voice a hollow, dead monotone. "What you need. His... flesh."
Orochimaru raised a hairless brow. Intrigued, he reached out with a bandaged hand, picked up the scroll, and channeled a sliver of chakra to break the seal.
A puff of white smoke erupted and quickly dissipated.
Resting on the parchment was a small, dried piece of human tissue.
Orochimaru's vertical pupils contracted into pinpricks. His breath hitched, the sudden intake of air loud in the quiet room. As a genius scientist who had spent decades dissecting bloodlines, cells, and forbidden Jutsu, he recognized the terrifying density of the chakra clinging to that dead flesh.
"This... this is..."
Orochimaru snapped his head up, his gaze burning into the masked man. His voice cracked, distorted by sheer, unadulterated shock. "Uchiha... Madara?"
Obito gave a single, cold nod.
"That's right. This is Madara's physical tissue. I want you to use it. Immediately. Resurrect him with the Edo Tensei."
Orochimaru cradled the piece of dried flesh as if he were holding a god's beating heart. The corners of his mouth stretched upward, splitting his face into a crazed, twisted grin.
"Hehehe... Hahahahaha!" The laughter echoed off the damp stone walls. "Fascinating! Truly fascinating! Obito-kun... weren't you always hiding this? You refused to let me anywhere near it before."
The Sannin leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with malicious insight. "What changed? Are you finally feeling the pressure from Uchiha Akira?"
The words hit the mark perfectly. Obito did not bother to deny it.
"Save your breath," Obito demanded. "Can you do it or not?"
"Of course." Orochimaru carefully sealed the flesh back into the scroll, tucking it into his robes. He looked back at the masked Uchiha. "And after Madara is revived? What is your grand plan? Send him marching straight to Konoha to challenge Uchiha Akira to a duel to the death?"
Obito shook his head slowly.
"The moment Madara wakes, I want you to deploy every single Edo Tensei pawn you have in your arsenal. Their targets are Kumogakure and Iwagakure." Obito's single visible eye narrowed into a dangerous crescent. "Have your undead army disguise themselves as Konoha Anbu. Let them slaughter and wreak absolute havoc."
Orochimaru blinked, processing the sheer scale of the malice in those instructions. Then, a knowing, wicked smile spread across his pale face.
"I see. A frame-up." Orochimaru hissed in delight. "Ignite a Ninja World War to force Uchiha Akira's attention away from you. What a beautifully vicious strategy. I must admit... I like it."
Orochimaru turned his back on Obito, walking toward a massive wall of chemical vats.
"Give me three days. I need time to extract the active cellular tissue from this sample. In three days... I will introduce you to the Asura of the Ninja World."
Obito stood in silence, watching the Sannin work. Beneath the orange mask, his expression was dark, his thoughts an unreadable abyss.
Reviving Madara. This was his final, desperate gamble.
'Uchiha Akira...'Obito clenched his gloved fists until the leather groaned.'This time... I will drag the entire world into the fire just to play this game with you to the bitter end.'
...
Three days later.
Deep within a cavernous, subterranean chamber, the air was thick with moisture and the heavy scent of burning wax.
Orochimaru stood before a towering wooden coffin. The flickering candlelight cast long, dancing shadows across his unnaturally pale skin, making him look like a phantom dragged from the underworld.
His hands blurred, weaving a complex sequence of hand signs. He slammed his palms together.
"Edo Tensei!"
A low, rumbling tremor shook the cavern. The heavy lid of the coffin groaned, then crashed forward, slamming into the ground and kicking up a dense cloud of dust.
Instantly, a suffocating, tyrannical surge of Chakra exploded outward, filling every inch of the underground chamber. The sheer pressure of it felt like a physical weight pressing down on the lungs.
Even Orochimaru, a veteran of countless wars and one of the legendary Sannin, felt his breath catch. His boots scraped against the stone as he involuntarily took a half-step back, his golden eyes locked onto the silhouette emerging from the settling dust.
Crimson, layered armor. A black, tight-fitting battle suit. Wild, untamed black hair that cascaded down his back, obscuring the right side of his face.
Uchiha Madara stepped forward.
He slowly opened his eyes. In the dim gloom of the cavern, a pair of scarlet Sharingan spun to life, radiating an aura of absolute, indifferent supremacy. He looked at the world as if everything in it were merely dust beneath his boots.
"Finally..." Madara's voice was a deep, resonant rumble that vibrated in the chest. "That brat Nagato... he actually did well."
He rolled his shoulders, stretching his stiff neck with a loud crack.
Then, Madara lowered his gaze, examining his own hands.
He paused.
The skin was covered in fine, paper-like cracks. His complexion was an ashen, grayish-white.
He pressed a hand to his chest. No heartbeat.
He focused inward. No body temperature. He couldn't even feel the familiar, hot rush of blood pumping through his veins.
The arrogant smirk that had begun to form on Madara's lips vanished, replaced by a terrifying stillness.
This was not a body of flesh and blood. This was not the true resurrection promised by the Rinne Tensei.
This was...
"Is this the Jutsu developed by that despicable scoundrel, the Second Hokage?"
Madara's voice dropped to an icy, absolute zero. The ambient temperature in the cavern seemed to plummet, the candle flames flickering wildly as if fighting for oxygen.
A wave of pure, unadulterated killing intent—so dense it felt like a wall of solid iron—slammed directly into Orochimaru.
Madara slowly raised his head, his Sharingan glaring at the pale scientist.
"Why am I an Edo Tensei?"
"Where is Nagato?"
"And what..." Madara touched the skin near his eyes, his tone dripping with lethal promise, "...went wrong with my eyes?"
Orochimaru swallowed hard, his tongue darting out to wet his dry lips. He forced his chakra to circulate, desperately suppressing the violent tremor threatening to shake his legs.
To project such monstrous pressure while dead...
As expected of Uchiha Madara.
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