"Why did you summon me to Okayama this time? What is this really about?"
I didn't know what kind of changes Konoha's founding had brought to the Land of Fire, but I did know that after so many years of division and chaos, people had spent generation after generation toiling away. It was a deeply sorrowful existence. After a long period of division, unity was inevitable. The Ninja World was at such a point now. People were tired of fighting, and would inevitably seek a way out—a way to stop fighting.
The Uchiha Clan didn't have the Senju Clan's natural gift for winning people over. In all sorts of legends, the Uchiha Clan always appeared as the villains, only to be defeated. This was a reality that made Mingye deeply frustrated, but one he had to accept. If they wanted to change things, the Uchiha Clan couldn't follow the path of the common people. They could only take the high-level villain route, changing the entire Land of Fire from the top down. Their target this time was Sato.
"We need more power. Big brother may think that as long as we're strong enough, certain rights will naturally be ours. That's not necessarily true. Sometimes, even someone who can't lift a finger can gain great power. What we need to do now is what we're best at: create a devil, one so greedy that he has no limits!"
"A devil?!"
Mingye's words left Madara puzzled. Mingye didn't keep anything from him and continued to explain.
"The Land of Fire has three high commissioners and five generals. Sato isn't the strongest; he's only somewhere in the middle among the eight. Under these circumstances, we have no chance of uniting the entire Land of Fire. Your Mangekyō Sharingan may not be enhanced for genjutsu, but it should still be capable of releasing a powerful illusion, right?"
Madara nodded. The Uchiha Clan's stone tablet recorded many ninjutsu. One of them was Tsukuyomi, a genjutsu he wasn't particularly skilled at, but had memorized and could use. Unfortunately, genjutsu wasn't what his Mangekyō Sharingan enhanced. He could use it, but he couldn't claim to have mastered it.
"That's right. Although I'm not particularly good at genjutsu, I've mastered an extremely powerful one called Tsukuyomi. It can turn an instant into seventy-two hours, or even longer. Everything in the illusion is under my control! Didn't I tell you about it last time?"
Tsukuyomi's power didn't lie in the brutal mental anguish it could inflict, but in the psychological wounds it left behind. In a single thought, the world became a living hell, and all things withered and perished. Yet in the blink of an eye, the victim would realize that only an instant had passed. It was fortunate that Itachi, a genjutsu expert, hadn't attained the Eternal Mangekyō. Otherwise, who knew what kind of existence that Uchiha Clan prodigy might eventually become? Of course, it was far too early to talk about Itachi now. Mingye's goal was to subtly change Sato's way of thinking. At present, Sato merely wanted to rule as a regional warlord. He had no ambition to "control the emperor and command the lords." Mingye had to instill that ambition in him. Only then could his clan act more freely under such a policy and accomplish what they wanted.
"Good! That's exactly what I want. We need to change General Sato's thinking within a certain amount of time!"
"Change it?"
"Those in power look at us as if we're mud dogs. And aren't we just as likely to see them as pigs in a pen? If we're going to make a change, then let's make it as ruthless and decisive as possible!"
Faced with Madara's confusion, Mingye didn't answer him directly. He gave a faint smile and said nothing more. Madara wasn't a particularly great king. At most, he was an invincible warrior like Xiang Yu. His heart was set on conquering the world, not ruling it. Such a person might thrive in a chaotic age, with the creed that those who followed him would prosper and those who opposed him would perish. But he could only live in such a time. In a peaceful world, he would be a ticking time bomb.
Fortunately, Madara was his elder brother, and he didn't mind his younger brother holding power. This meant that there was no struggle for power among the three Uchiha brothers. Because they cherished their bond as brothers, the Uchiha Clan was now extremely united, at least among its leadership. Mingye was confident that before long, the entire clan would work together toward a new future.
In a bedroom at the General's Pavilion, Sato suddenly sat up. One hand pressed against the sword hilt beside the bed as he stared grimly into a shadowy corner of the room. A scarlet, round object, about the size of a marble, kept spinning. He couldn't make out what it was, but it was like looking through a kaleidoscope at a world of shifting colors. Gradually... slowly... his eyes closed.
"Ah!"
At dawn the next day, Sato opened his eyes with a startled cry. He sat up and checked himself from head to toe. Finding himself unharmed, he relaxed and wiped the cold sweat from his forehead.
"General!"
Sato brooded over the dream that had seemed so real. In it, the pain of being cut to pieces by a thousand blades still lingered in his unharmed body. After carefully checking himself and confirming he had no injuries, he called toward the shadow from which the voice had come.
"Did anyone break into my room last night?"
"No!"
Hearing the reply, Sato rubbed his short beard and muttered to himself.
"Could it really have been just a dream?"
The events of the dream were vivid in his mind. He had single-handedly defeated the three high commissioners and the other four generals, whose strength had been on par with his own. He had even used the Daimyo to command the entire Land of Fire. In his later years, he had deposed the Daimyo and taken the seat in Tenshukaku for himself. But just as he stood at the heart of all power, sitting on the throne, a group of oddly dressed shinobi had assassinated him, cutting him down in a flurry of blades.
"That crest?!"
Sato suddenly recalled something that puzzled him. The shinobi who had ambushed and killed him seemed to bear a crest of his own clan. Though it had been a dream, it had felt far too real. So real, in fact, that he seemed to have seen that crest in real life. Its pattern showed two opposing halves of a tree, connected by a horizontal line that made it look like a set of scales. He thought it over, but came up with nothing, so he set it aside for now. His maid entered from outside and began helping him dress. Since it was six in the morning, the sky was not yet fully light. Mingye stood on a rooftop some distance from the General's Pavilion, watching Madara descend from the sky with a faint smile. He asked,
"Well?"
Madara replied with an easy smile.
"He's got some capable people. There are more than thirty shinobi protecting him. No wonder the Fuma Clan's shinobi have failed so many times. I don't know how he managed to recruit so many elite jōnin, but every one of them is quite strong!"
"You weren't spotted, were you?"
Hearing Mingye's doubt, Madara retorted disdainfully,
"Who do you think I am? I did what you asked and gave him a wonderful dream—a dream in which he conquered the world!"
"You put the Senju Clan's crest in it too, right?"
"I just don't understand why you had to drag the Senju Clan into this!"
"Heh! Don't worry, big brother. My plan won't fail. How else could we subtly change his thinking if it didn't feel real?"
In the general's back garden, filled with birdsong and flowers, the general held a brush and painted the crest of the clan that had cut him down in that recurring dream. He put the brush down and sat to one side, studying the picture in thought.
"You're in fine spirits, General!"
Fujiwara Muneyoshi walked slowly into the pavilion and came up to the contemplative general, teasing him. Sato glanced at Fujiwara Muneyoshi and gestured for him to sit beside him, then asked,
"Do you recognize this family crest?"
Fujiwara Muneyoshi glanced at the design on the paper, looking puzzled. The Senju of the Forest weren't particularly well known among the nobility. As shinobi, they didn't seem interested in taking power or currying favor for status. As a result, many people in power had deliberately chosen to forget about this particular clan. After all, a shinobi's average lifespan didn't exceed thirty years. As long as they could be put to use, it didn't matter whether they were a famous blade or a new one. If they could help someone kill, they were good blades. The Senju of the Forest's lack of cooperation had made them unpopular among the nobility. So Fujiwara Muneyoshi was quite puzzled to see the design on General Sato's paper.
"This seems to be the crest of the Senju of the Forest. Why are you interested in a shinobi clan, General?"
After getting the answer he wanted, General Sato fell back into thought. Then he suddenly recalled a legend from the Ninja World and asked Fujiwara Muneyoshi another question.
"The Senju of the Forest? I've heard that they and the Uchiha Clan are mortal enemies, sworn to hate each other. Is that true?"
Fujiwara Muneyoshi nodded. The endless enmity between the Uchiha Clan and the Senju Clan had become a classic example of a blood feud in the Ninja World. The two could never coexist. This was accepted as fact throughout the world.
"There does seem to be a legend like that. The two clans are said to descend from the sons of the man who founded Ninshu a thousand years ago. They fought each other over who was the true heir to Ninshu. I imagine they still hate each other to the bone!"
Sato nodded slowly, then stood and asked what Fujiwara Muneyoshi had come to see him about.
"Excellent! Now that we have a clue, everything will be easy. What brings you here?"
"Akiyama Nobunori has been building fortifications along the border between the Land of River and the Land of Fire. It seems he's preparing to gather troops and invade the Land of River. The ruler of the Land of River has pleaded with the Daimyo of the Land of Fire to reprimand Akiyama Nobunori and stop him from taking further action. General, this is your chance to make a name for yourself!"
Fujiwara Muneyoshi rose and bowed to Sato as he answered. Sato, meanwhile, was distracted by the vision of himself as second only to one and above countless others in his dream. His heart swelled with exhilaration.
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