I don't own or co-own Naruto or That Time I Got Reincarnated As a Slime, the rights belong to Fuse and Masashi Kishimoto. Based upon Characters created by Fuse and Masashi Kishimoto.
Rated M - For Strong Language, Blood and Violence, and other stuff.
"Talking."
"Thoughts."
[Jutsus, Techniques, and Spells]
Author Note:
First off, there will be no Rimuru.
Second: Pairing is undecided. Maybe there will be a single pairing. Maybe there will be no pairing at all. Or maybe it will be a harem. I don't truly know(I know, I just don't want to reveal it just yet).
Third: I don't think I will ever update my other stories, so I'm sorry about that.
Fourth: I will make some additions to the world-building of That Time I Got Reincarnated As a Slime and add new races. I have been playing Dungeon and Dragons and studying its lore lately, so I have come up with some great ideas for this story.
Fifth: You may me this question: "Is this story going to be like canon?" The answer to that is yes and no.
"[Chapter 1: One Last Talk]"
Madara Uchiha, once the most feared and revered shinobi across the vast expanse of the Elemental Nations, now found himself in a position unthinkable to any who had witnessed the pinnacle of his power.
He lay prone on the earth, his body weakened and his spirit crushed by the very creature he had erroneously believed to be his own masterful creation: the malevolent being known as Black Zetsu.
A profound sense of defeat and humiliation washed over him, leaving him as nothing more than a mere shadow of the formidable warrior he had once been.
As he lay there, the weight of his failure pressing down upon him like an unyielding tide, Madara's thoughts could not help but wander back through the annals of time to the moments that had shaped him into the man he was today.
The images of his past flickered before his inner eye like a tapestry of fire, each thread a vivid memory of triumph and loss, love and betrayal, hope and despair. He recalled his youth, the days when he and Hashirama had roamed the lands as inseparable comrades, fighting side by side during the tumultuous era of the Warring States.
Together, they had dreamt of a future where peace reigned supreme, where the bloodshed that had stained their world would be but a distant memory.
They had founded the Hidden Leaf Village, a bastion of unity and hope amidst the chaos, and had worked tirelessly to bring their vision to fruition. Yet, fate had conspired against them, driving a wedge between their friendship and sending Madara down a darker path.
His thoughts grew heavy with the burden of his choices: the cunning manipulation that had led to the Fourth Great Shinobi War, the countless lives that had been claimed in the pursuit of his twisted ideal, and the ultimate revelation that the Infinite Tsukuyomi—his grand design for a world united under a single, blissful illusion—was in truth a tool of Kaguya Ōtsutsuki's malicious intent.
Black Zetsu had been the instrument of this betrayal, a living embodiment of the very essence he had sought to control, now turned against him in a twist of fate so bitter it was almost poetic.
"I... lost... huh?" Madara murmured to himself, his voice barely a whisper in the stillness of the battle-ravaged landscape. "How... pathetic."
Overwhelmed by despair, he allowed his eyelids to drift shut, his thoughts swirling in a maelstrom of regret. Yet, even in the solace of his own mind, he could not escape the echoes of his past. The voices of those he had loved and lost, the screams of those who had suffered under his hand, and the silent judgment of the stars above all haunted him.
"[Confirmed. Bestowing [Skill: Aura of Despair] upon the individual; Madara Uchiha. Successful!]"
The sudden intrusion of a cold, mechanical voice in his thoughts brought Madara back to the present with a start. He felt the sting of the words, a pain that cut deeper than any physical wound.
"My wound from Black Zetsu burns... it hurts so much..." He groaned, the pain from his encounter with the creature a stark and painful reminder of his newfound vulnerability.
"[Confirmed. Bestowing [Fire Resistance] and additionally [Pain Resistance] upon the individual; Madara Uchiha. Successful!]"
The voice spoke again, but Madara was in too much turmoil to pay it any heed.
"...but my body feels cold." The chill of his own mortality seeped into his very bones, a sensation that sent a shiver down his spine.
"[Confirmed. Bestowing [Cold Resistance] upon the individual; Madara Uchiha. Successful!]"
The voice continued, its emotionless tone a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions raging within him.
Madara lay there, contemplating the irony of his situation. A man who had once wielded the power of the gods, who had dreamed of eternal life and a world bending to his will, now found himself on the precipice of death.
"So... I'm dying again... huh? I never thought I'd face death once more..." His words were barely audible, lost in the symphony of his own fading breaths.
The voice, a mysterious and omnipotent presence, echoed in his mind once more.
"[Confirmed. Creating an immortal body for the individual; Madara Uchiha. Failure!]"
It spoke, and with each syllable, a piece of his soul shattered, realizing the futility of his earlier aspirations.
"[Reattempting Sequence. Creating an immortal body for the individual; Madara Uchiha. Failure!]"
The repeated attempts at granting him the gift of eternal life only served to underscore the inescapable nature of his fate.
"Hahaha... so pathetic. I... was such a fool to believe... in such nonsense..." Madara's laughter was hollow, a mirthless echo of the man he had once been.
"[Confirmed. Bestowing [Skill: Fools World] upon the individual; Madara Uchiha. Successful!]"
The voice chimed in, a dark mockery of his earlier delusions of grandeur.
The once-great Uchiha's eyes slowly fluttered open, taking in the beauty of the night sky that stretched out above him. Stars twinkled like distant fires, a silent testament to the vastness of the universe and the insignificance of his own existence.
"The night sky is stunning." He murmured, his voice a mere whisper in the hush of the evening.
The battlefield that had been the stage for their legendary struggle was now eerily still, the only sound the rustling of leaves that danced in the gentle embrace of the night breeze.
Amongst the fallen leaves, the figure of Hashirama Senju, the First Hokage and Madara's lifelong rival, knelt by his side. His expression was a poignant blend of sorrow and resignation, a testament to the understanding that even the strongest of bonds could not overcome the inexorable march of fate.
Madara Uchiha, the Sage of the Six Paths, lay broken and defeated, a mere mortal once more. The weight of his actions bore down upon him like a mountain, crushing the last vestiges of hope from his weary heart. The dream of an eternal peace, once so bright and all-consuming, now lay in ruins around him, a stark and bitter reminder of the price paid for his hubris.
The night air grew colder, and with it, the grip of death grew stronger. Madara felt his body begin to fail, his breaths growing more labored as the light of life flickered within him. Yet, even in the face of such overwhelming despair, he found solace in the memories of his past.
"Hashirama... Is that you?" Madara's voice was frail, a mere echo of the power that had once sent shivers down the spines of his enemies.
Hashirama looked upon his friend with a profound sense of sadness. He had wished for a different outcome, a future where their shared dreams had come to pass without the need for such destruction. But alas, the wheels of fate had turned against them, and now it was time for the cycle of life to claim Madara once more.
"You and I... Though we aimed for the stars... we could never reach them..." Madara spoke, each word a struggle against the tide of pain that threatened to drown him.
"[Confirmed. Bestowing [Skill: Star King] upon the individual; Madara Uchiha. Successful!]"
The voice spoke again, a cruel jest in the face of his imminent end.
Hashirama's gaze remained steadfast. "It's never that straightforward! Our kind of dreams are always difficult! We can only do so much in our lifetime... That's why we must entrust the rest to those who follow us."
Madara offered a weak smile, his teeth stained with the crimson of his own blood. "Heh... As naive... as always... you've always been... that kind... of fool."
"But perhaps... your way... is the right one... I got greedy... seeking more power." Madara's eyes searched Hashirama's, a silent plea for understanding.
"[Confirmed. Bestowing [Unique Skill: Lord of Greed] upon the individual; Madara Uchiha. Successful!]"
"...and my hatred for this world drove me to aim for something beyond the stars..."
"[Confirmed. Bestowing [Unique Skill: Lord of Wrath] upon the individual; Madara Uchiha. Successful!]"
"...and I ultimately failed." Madara's voice was filled with the quiet resignation of a man who had finally accepted the futility of his ambitions.
"Stop talking, Madara! You are—" Hashirama's voice was filled with urgency, a desperate attempt to deny the inevitable.
"It's no use, Hashirama... I'm dying, and you know it..." Madara spoke with a calm certainty that brought a fresh wave of sadness to Hashirama's heart.
Madara knew that as the Jinchūriki of the Ten-Tails, the extraction of his inner beast would come at the cost of his own life. The power of the Tailed Beasts was not meant to be wielded by mortal hands, and the price of such a bond was always steep.
"Farewell... Hashirama... My rival... My friend... May your ideals... endure..." Madara's final words hung in the air, a testament to the bond that had united them through years of war and strife.
The two men, once bound by friendship and shared dreams, now found themselves bound by fate and the quiet understanding that their time together had come to an end. Madara's hand reached out to clasp Hashirama's, the gesture speaking volumes of the respect and camaraderie that had never truly been extinguished by their differences.
The cold night air grew more biting, the chill a stark reminder of the end that was fast approaching. Madara's breaths grew shallower, each one a silent goodbye to the world that had been his stage.
"Dying beneath such beautiful moonlight isn't so bad. It brings me a sense of peace." He whispered, his voice fading like the last embers of a once-blazing fire.
Hashirama's eyes filled with unshed tears as he watched his friend's life ebb away. The world had known Madara Uchiha as a legend, a being of immense power and unyielding will. Yet, in those final moments, he was simply a man, seeking the peace he had never truly found in life.
The night sky above them, a canvas of stars that had once been the symbol of his boundless ambition, now offered Madara a gentle embrace as he slipped away into the eternal night. His hand fell limp, his final breath a soft sigh that mingled with the rustling of leaves.
The legendary Madara Uchiha, the Sage of the Six Paths, had taken his last breath. The world had lost one of its most powerful shinobi, and Hashirama had lost a piece of his soul. Yet, in the quiet of that moonlit battlefield, a legacy was born, one that would resonate through the ages to come.
The tale of Madara Uchiha and Hashirama Senju, once the brightest stars in the shinobi firmament, had reached its conclusion.
But as the light of Madara's life winked out, the stars above them remained steadfast, a silent promise that their story would never truly end, but rather be passed down through the generations, a lesson in the pursuit of power and the cost of greatness.
And so, the cycle of life and death continued, the wheel of fate turning once more, as the night closed in on the battlefield, leaving behind only the whispers of the wind and the solemn vow of one shinobi to carry on the other's dream.
End of Chapter 1.