"Oh?"
Madara's rasping voice, like the groan of ancient wood, broke the stillness. The hunched, frail figure that had seemed lifeless moments before stirred, his head lifting slightly. His deep-set eyes, clouded yet piercing, gleamed faintly in the dim light of the cavern.
White Zetsu, ever vigilant, recognized the spark of interest in Madara's gaze. Having served the old Uchiha for years, Zetsu understood his moods with uncanny precision. When Madara's eyes narrowed even a fraction, it meant only one thing: he wanted more information.
Zetsu wasted no time. "This Uchiha Obito," he began, "is part of Minato Namikaze's first team of fresh graduates. His teammates are Hatake Kakashi and Nohara Rin."
Madara's brow furrowed slightly at the mention of Kakashi. "Hatake Kakashi? Is that the son of Sakumo Hatake?"
"Yes," Zetsu replied. "Kakashi's reputation has grown rapidly. He and Shisui Uchiha are considered the most talented young ninjas in Konoha today."
Madara let out a faint, dismissive grunt. "Talented, perhaps. But the world has never lacked so-called geniuses. Most burn brightly for a time before fading into obscurity."
His words carried the weight of centuries of observation. In the world of shinobi, talent was but a fleeting phenomenon, as transient as cherry blossoms in spring. To Madara, only those with unyielding will and extraordinary purpose could rise above the countless prodigies who faltered before reaching greatness.
Zetsu continued, undeterred by Madara's disdain. "Obito, on the other hand, is a far cry from a prodigy. Among his team, Kakashi is the undisputed star, and even Nohara Rin has surpassed Obito in many respects. She trained directly under Tsunade, mastering advanced medical ninjutsu."
Madara's thin lips curved into a faint smile. This stark contrast made Obito's recent accomplishments all the more intriguing. Talent, as Madara had often said, was an unreliable measure of a person's true potential.
"Fascinating," Madara murmured, his tone laced with dry amusement. "Despite his mediocrity, Obito has achieved something no Uchiha before him ever has: awakening a double-magatama Sharingan upon activation. A remarkable anomaly."
He leaned back, his frail body sinking into the throne-like stone seat that seemed almost a part of him. His mind raced, contemplating the implications of such a rare occurrence. The Sharingan was no mere tool—it was the very essence of the Uchiha clan, a manifestation of their pride, pain, and ambition.
"What do we know about the circumstances of his awakening?" Madara asked, his voice taking on a sharper edge.
Zetsu nodded, prepared for the question. "While I lack precise details, the general account is clear. During a skirmish, Nohara Rin was gravely injured by an enemy ninja. Witnessing this, Obito flew into a rage, and in his desperation, he awakened the Sharingan."
Madara's eyes narrowed. "And the enemy?"
"A Jonin from Sunagakure," Zetsu replied. "Before Obito engaged him, the Jonin had already battled Hatake Kakashi, sustaining injuries but emerging victorious. The Jonin then turned his focus to Rin, wounding her in the process. It was this act that pushed Obito over the edge, driving him to kill the Jonin."
Madara's fingers tapped rhythmically against the armrest of his chair, the sound echoing faintly in the cavern. By all accounts, a newly awakened Sharingan—even with two magatama—should not have been enough to defeat a seasoned Jonin. Something extraordinary must have occurred in that moment of desperation.
For a long while, silence enveloped the chamber. Zetsu, accustomed to Madara's extended contemplations, waited patiently, his form motionless as if carved from the shadows.
Finally, Madara spoke. "You've done well, Zetsu," he said, his voice tinged with rare approval. "This boy, Uchiha Obito… he may prove more valuable than I anticipated."
"What of the one you originally chose as your successor?" Zetsu asked cautiously.
Madara's expression turned cold. "His will is too rigid, too stubborn to mold. Keeping him alive serves no purpose, and his presence may only complicate matters. If he cannot serve my plans, then he will vanish from this world."
Zetsu's face remained impassive, though his mind raced. "Shall we have Kirigakure send reinforcements to the front lines? The presence of Senju Nawaki has created a stalemate in the war."
At the mention of Senju Nawaki, Madara's composure faltered for a brief moment. His fingers tightened ever so slightly, betraying a flicker of emotion. Senju Nawaki was not the source of his agitation—it was the legacy he represented. As the grandson of Hashirama Senju, the man Madara had once called both friend and rival, Senju Nawaki carried the bloodline that had forever intertwined with his own destiny.
"No," Madara said after a moment, his voice regaining its usual steadiness. "Kirigakure's forces are reserved for a greater purpose. Let Konoha's enemies weaken them further. The time for direct action has not yet come."
"Then what shall we do?" Zetsu asked, his tone betraying genuine curiosity.
Madara's lips curled into a faint, sardonic smile. "Do not forget, Konoha and Minato Namikaze already have another adversary. The boy's potential may yet serve as the key to tipping the scales in our favor. For now, we observe and wait. When the moment is right, the world will tremble before the true power of the Uchiha."
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