Madara Uchiha's fury was unstoppable. Had everything he had schemed and planned been nothing more than the guidance of that fellow named Black Zetsu?
Had his ambitions, his pain, and his endurance all been a joke?
How could he accept that? How could he possibly resign himself to it?
Yet, as though he had anticipated Madara's reaction, Menma merely snapped his fingers.
Click.
Dense rows of runes appeared around the cultivation tank used to revive Madara Uchiha. Even his furious punch failed to break the glass.
Menma did nothing more after that. Someone like Madara Uchiha required no further measures. He had already told him all the facts, and Madara was more desperate than anyone to learn the truth.
"...You expect me... how am I supposed to believe you...?"
"It's simple. Tomorrow, I'll take you to Konoha and let you fight an Ōtsutsuki yourself," Menma said calmly. "Alongside Hashirama Senju."
Back in the present, fierce winds howled over the sea, and thunder tore through the sky.
Madara's Perfect Susanoo and Hashirama's Wooden Buddha traded blows, fist against fist and palm against palm, neither gaining the upper hand.
The creatures in those waters suffered for it. Countless fish floated belly-up on the sea beneath their feet.
"I was worried this wouldn't be satisfying enough. I never expected you to regain a flesh-and-blood body!"
Madara looked at Hashirama. The cracks characteristic of Impure World Reincarnation were gone from his face, and he looked just as Madara remembered him.
The only real difference was his attire.
Hashirama no longer wore the armor of the Warring States Period. Instead, he had changed into a Konoha Shinobi Vest and wore a Konoha Forehead Protector.
Madara understood what the change meant.
Hashirama wanted to tell him that he could now fit into the village as