Chapter 40: A Contest for Superiority, A Duel to the Death
The moment Stelle carried Uchiha Madara's body across the threshold of his home, a complex web of Fūinjutsu flared to life, sealing the entire estate from the outside world. No one was getting in.
She hadn't expected Black Zetsu to be so swift, however. The creature had slithered in right on her heels, a shadow clinging to a shadow. Stelle didn't have the time to deal with him now. She simply sat, and she waited.
She waited for Uchiha Madara to wake up.
One day bled into the next. Madara did not stir. A second day passed, and still, he remained as lifeless as the corpse he was supposed to be. Stelle's patience was wearing thin, fraying at the edges with each passing hour.
She wasn't worried about the chaos outside. With Senju Tobirama holding the reins, Konoha would not be allowed to descend into panic. Senju Hashirama was still there, too. Though their battle had carved a new, devastating landmark into the landscape, she trusted Tobirama to concoct a suitable cover story and lock down the flow of information.
By the afternoon of the third day, just as Stelle was beginning to suspect Madara had forgotten to transcribe the jutsu into his Sharingan in the first place, Uchiha Madara finally opened his eyes.
'It took him long enough,' she thought, a flicker of annoyance crossing her mind. 'Wasn't Izanagi supposed to rewrite reality instantly? Why on earth did he set such a long delay? Wasn't he afraid someone would gouge his eyes out in the meantime?'
He had inscribed the formula into his eye even before facing Hashirama. That meant he had walked into that final battle already committed to this path. If he couldn't win, he would fake his death, activate his contingency plan, and pursue peace through the Eye of the Moon Plan.
In the courtyard, hidden from sight, Black Zetsu was nearly moved to tears of joy. His original plan had been to shadow Madara's corpse, wait for the burial, and then find a suitable Uchiha to transplant the eyes into. He would have dug them from the grave himself if necessary.
He had never expected the world to grant him such a magnificent surprise. The path to Kaguya's revival, the promise of the Rinnegan, was open once more.
The thought made Black Zetsu's entire being quiver, his amorphous form rippling like molten tar in a state of pure ecstasy. He swayed, then melted back into the earth, vanishing without a trace. This Stelle was a Sensory Ninja; he couldn't risk being discovered at such a critical juncture. If his true nature were exposed now, he would never find an excuse to remain by Uchiha Madara's side.
Inside the room, Uchiha Madara's pupils slowly contracted, his vision bleeding from blackness into focus. He saw the familiar grain of his own ceiling, not the cold, packed earth of the Konoha Cemetery. Confusion was a foreign, unwelcome sensation.
He turned his head and saw his disciple sitting across from him. Her hands were folded on the table, her gaze fixed on him, unblinking.
Madara pushed himself into a sitting position. "You were waiting for me," he said, his voice a low rasp. "You knew I would be resurrected."
Stelle gave a single, deliberate nod. "I knew."
"What is the situation outside?" Madara asked, though the question was a proxy for another.
Stelle understood. He was asking about Senju Hashirama. She shook her head. "I brought you back three days ago and sealed the house. I haven't stepped outside since. I was waiting for you to return."
A frown creased Madara's brow. While his disciple had grown up within the Uchiha clan, she was not one of them by blood. Logically, she should have no knowledge of the Sharingan's deepest secrets. How could she have been so certain of his revival? These were secrets that even most Uchiha were not privy to.
"How do you know the hidden truths of the Sharingan?" Madara pressed, his gaze sharp.
"I know many things," Stelle replied, her tone even. "I know what you know, and I know what you don't."
She stood, a Shadow Clone flickered into existence beside her, and she opened a small gap in the Fūinjutsu barrier.
Madara watched her, a strange feeling prickling at him. His disciple was different today. The familiar, almost cloying admiration she usually showed him, the way she would act spoiled and obedient in his presence—it was all gone. In its place was a woman who spoke to him as an equal.
'Was she frightened by the battle?' he wondered.
Stelle's hand suddenly pressed onto his shoulder. Madara didn't flinch, his trust in his disciple absolute. He did not believe she would ever harm him.
The world twisted into a nauseating vortex of color and light. The familiar scent of his home was ripped away, replaced by a rapid succession of new sensations—pine, river water, damp earth—as Stelle chained several Hiraishin jumps together. When their vision cleared, they had vanished from the Uchiha estate.
They stood on a remote island far out at sea. It was a desolate, uninhabited rock, battered by wind and waves—a godforsaken place from which escape would be nearly impossible if one were stranded.
"Alright, Master," Stelle said, her voice cutting through the sea spray. "It's quiet here. No one will disturb us. Now, we can have a proper talk."
Madara raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. He hadn't realized Tobirama had taught his own prized technique to his disciple. "What is it you wish to talk about?"
"I want to know what you plan to do next," Stelle stated, her expression dead serious.
"Realize my ideal," Madara answered, seeing no reason to hide his intentions from her. "I lost the battle with Hashirama. As we agreed, control of Konoha belongs to him. I will achieve peace through my own methods."
He looked at his disciple, a fleeting urge rising within him to confide in her, to ask her to leave Konoha and join him. But she was delicate. The four of them had pampered her as she grew up, and her duties had always been clerical. Even her placement in the Anbu was merely a measure to grant her better survival skills. Could she truly adapt to a life on the run, a life outside the village walls? He considered it, then dismissed the thought.
Stelle took a deep breath, the salt air filling her lungs. "What if I told you that the peace you believe in is a lie?"
A shadow of disappointment crossed Madara's features. A pang of hurt, sharp and unexpected, struck him. "Are you going to stop me?"
Stelle didn't know how to explain it. She couldn't. Her knowledge of the future was her greatest advantage, a secret as inviolable as her own immortality. But she couldn't just stand by and watch Uchiha Madara be manipulated by that pitch-black parasite, only to end up impaled and broken as he did in the Fourth Great Ninja War, all his ideals crumbling to dust.
He didn't deserve an ending like that.
'Ah, what in the world am I doing?' she lamented internally. She should have fought harder to stay at the orphanage all those years ago, but she'd let herself be taken in as his disciple. Her time in the Warring States Period had been brief, a quick log-off that left little emotional residue. But this time… this time she had truly grown up beside them. After so many years, how could she remain completely indifferent?
[System, I've made up my mind. I'm going to use that Gold-tier Card on Madara. It's just collecting dust anyway. By the time it becomes truly useful, I won't need it anymore.]
[Host, are you certain?]
[I'm sure. This is the best way forward for now. And I can farm another huge wave of emotional value from Madara in the process. It's a win-win.]
Her decision made, all hesitation vanished from Stelle's demeanor.
"Master, as I said, I know some things far better than you do. The path you are walking is the wrong one."
Senju Hashirama was a stubborn man, and Uchiha Madara was his equal in that regard. Without a clear explanation, how could she possibly persuade him? It was more likely, she realized, that Madara would begin to suspect her of siding with Hashirama's ideology.
"Although you look so much like my Stelle," Madara said, his voice turning cold, "your thoughts and ideals are completely different. If my dear friend were still alive, she would have supported me without question."
He folded his arms and turned his back to her. "Go on, then. Return to Konoha."
Stelle glanced at the rules on the system card one last time, confirming every detail. Then, she spoke.
"Master, I remember asking you once whether you would rather die in a blaze of glory, a grand finale in battle, or wither away until you were old and frail, unable to leave the confines of life-support, dying alone. You chose the former."
She produced a handful of Hiraishin kunai, scattering them across the rocky terrain around them and keeping one clutched tightly in her hand.
"Since neither of us can convince the other, then let's settle this with our fists. A contest for superiority… and a duel to the death!"
The moment the words left her lips, a powerful, suffocating surge of chakra erupted from her body, washing over the island like a tidal wave.
A look of pure shock flashed in Uchiha Madara's eyes, which was quickly swallowed by a booming laugh—that classic, unhinged Uchiha cackle.
"I never imagined my own disciple had grown to this level right under my nose! With this presence alone, you have truly earned the right to challenge me."
The way he looked at her had changed. He no longer saw a beloved junior, a cherished student. He saw an opponent. An obstacle to be struck down.
"Then, as you wish," he declared, his voice ringing with exhilaration. "A contest for superiority, and a duel to the death!"
Behind him, a colossal ribcage of blue chakra began to materialize, rising from the very earth itself. The Susanoo was taking form.
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