Madara Uchiha and Hashirama Senju wore deeply conflicted expressions.
Even now, the few times they had spent together as children remained vivid in their memories.
Watanabe Ichiro (older brother card) had been the oldest among them. He had always listened gently to their wild ideas, offered practical ways to realize Hashirama Senju's dreams of peace, and helped ease the pressure Madara faced as the eldest son of his family.
Watanabe Ichiro (younger brother card), on the other hand, had been the youngest. His temper had been like a cat's: he adored whatever he liked and bared his teeth at whatever he hated. Clever, adorable, lively, and restless, he would sweetly seek your affection as long as you soothed him the right way. Hashirama Senju and Madara Uchiha had long since treated him as practically their own little brother.
It could be said that, had Watanabe Ichiro not gone straight for a killing blow against Tobirama Senju the moment he entered the battlefield, Hashirama Senju would never have had the heart to attack him. He might not even have resisted, simply letting Watanabe Ichiro take his life.
The Watanabe brothers had both been gentle, kind people. He still remembered Watanabe Ichiro's dream-
"If everyone in the future could be like us right now, without worrying about who they have to kill on the battlefield tomorrow or whether their loved ones will die, that would be wonderful. I hope people in the future only struggle to choose what delicious food to enjoy for their next meal, and worry about getting too fat from eating too much... That's my wish."
Watanabe Ichiro had smiled shyly, brimming with longing, while the younger Watanabe Ichiro stood beside him with his arms crossed, nodding with an air of feigned gravity.
"Of course! Ichiro, your wish is wonderful! I really want to live the kind of life you imagined." Hashirama Senju's eyes had shone. "If the future really turns out that way, I'll make sure my little brothers get to feast on fish and meat at every meal!"
"Yes, if I could eat tofu-skin sushi at every meal, that really would be a life worth looking forward to." Madara Uchiha had nodded, utterly tempted as he remembered the delicacy his family could only enjoy on holidays.
The past swept across the battlefield like a rustling wind.
Those who had passed could not be brought back, but there was still hope for those who remained.
Watanabe Ichiro seemed to be in decent shape at the moment. Although Madara Uchiha's Susanoo had grievously wounded him and he had then been pinned to the cliff face, he was now full of energy. His provocative gaze made Hashirama's and Madara's eyelids twitch.
Kill him, or let him go?
As a victim, Watanabe Ichiro had every moral right to seek revenge. Yet their dearest loved ones had been gravely wounded, and their emotions were hard to settle.
Everyone wanted to stop the killing and end the hatred. But when that hatred fell upon them personally, who could be generous enough to swallow it?
What was more, their only remaining family lay dying beside them. Such personal pain was not easily soothed.
And then there was what Watanabe Ichiro had accomplished. Relying solely on a two-tomoe Sharingan and a black weapon of unknown origin, he had struck with exquisite timing and ruthless precision, making him deeply threatening. Letting him go now would be like releasing a tiger back into the mountains.
Watanabe Ichiro watched the two men's constipated expressions as they kept almost speaking, only to stop themselves. Meanwhile, the points on the translucent system display beside him climbed rapidly, leaving him utterly satisfied.
These two really were efficient sources of points. He had not been idle during this time, running around causing trouble among the other clans of the same era, but the points he earned had been pitiful scraps. They were ridiculously stingy.
Once the timing looked right, he had come here to stir things up. In less than ten minutes, he had earned more than ten times the points from all his little exploits over the past five years combined.
The points on the system display stopped rising. Presumably, the two had made up their minds. Whether they generously let him go or wiped him out for good, Watanabe Ichiro did not care. He had used this disguise for quite a while and squeezed out every point he could. It was time for it to go offline.
His body, pinned to the rock face, slumped weakly, and black markings slowly spread from his torso into his limbs.
"Cough, cough... Lord Black Zetsu's power has reached its limit, too. What a shame I couldn't kill you..."
"Ichiro..." Hashirama Senju was still treating Tobirama Senju and Uchiha Izuna with his hands. Seeing the change in Watanabe Ichiro, he could not help feeling pity.
Madara Uchiha, the least injured among them, approached with a weapon in hand.
His body was tense, his Susanoo poised to act, ready to counterattack and retreat at the first sign of trouble.
This time, however, Watanabe Ichiro tried nothing underhanded. With Madara Uchiha's hand pressed against his neck, he offered no resistance and murmured.
"Ah, I failed. I've disappointed Lord Black Zetsu..."
Madara Uchiha felt the faint pulse beneath his fingertips. Confirming that Watanabe Ichiro truly was on his last legs, he frowned and asked.
"Who is Black Zetsu? Did he give you this weapon? Why can it break through my Susanoo?"
"Heh, Lord Black Zetsu is invincible. How could a mere Susanoo withstand his power?" Kid, never seen true damage before, have you?
Madara Uchiha's brows knitted tightly. Watanabe Ichiro, barely breathing yet still stubbornly defiant, was proving difficult to deal with. His gaze fell on Watanabe Ichiro's half-closed eyes.
"Your eyes. I'm taking them back."
"They were formed from Lord Black Zetsu's power. They don't belong to your Uchiha clan. What do you mean, taking them back?"
Watanabe Ichiro blinked. The two tomoe in his eyes receded to one tomoe, then turned into the pitch-black color Madara Uchiha recognized, before finally vanishing altogether. He had seen that strangely gleaming black on the weapon that had stabbed him. Once the black disappeared, the chakra around Watanabe Ichiro's eyes was no different from an ordinary person's, its flow completely unlike that of an Uchiha deactivating the Sharingan. It seemed he had spoken the truth.
Seemingly irritated that someone held his life in their hand at his throat, Watanabe Ichiro tried to turn his head slightly, but he lacked even the strength to complete that tiny movement.
The pulse beneath Madara Uchiha's hand grew weaker still. The black markings had spread across Watanabe Ichiro's entire body. It seemed they had found the reason he had remained so energetic despite his severe injuries.
This power from [Black Zetsu] had made Watanabe Ichiro's strength soar within just a few years, granting him an endless array of bizarre methods and keeping him from dying immediately even when gravely wounded. It had led Hashirama and Madara to believe his power went far beyond what he had shown.
Now, however, Watanabe Ichiro seemed to be suffering a backlash. Without that power sustaining him, he could barely move, and his breathing was fading rapidly.
"Who exactly is Black Zetsu?"
"Cough... Lord Black Zetsu is the only light in the darkness, the savior of the helpless, our god, an invincible... being."
Watanabe Ichiro forced his head up, his voice hoarse but resolute. After haltingly finishing those words, he finally could hold on no longer, and his head drooped limply.
The pulse beneath Madara Uchiha's hand stopped.
Not far away, Black Zetsu's pitch-black body could not help rippling. Watanabe Ichiro had been keeping him under surveillance for a long time.
Who? Dude, who are you talking about? Black Zetsu?
Is the Black Zetsu you're talking about me?
What the hell? How come I didn't know I was this awesome? (╯°Д°)╯?
Before you continue