Naruto: Reborn as Kakuzu, the Immortal Assassin

Listening to Shimura Danzo's report, the cigarette in Tobirama's hand burned forgotten. Even the sake on the table was left untouched.

Boom!

Tobirama rose abruptly, his expression grave. The situation was urgent, but as the leader of the Senju clan, he quickly regained his composure.

"Kakuzu!"

"Hm? What is it?"

"I need your help."

Before Kakuzu could even respond, Tobirama's hand was already on his shoulder.

"Wait, I didn't say—"

"No time for explanations!"

Tobirama's hand seal was already complete.

Whoosh!

The next moment, their figures blurred and vanished, leaving behind a bewildered Hiruzen Sarutobi and the frantic Danzo.

"Hiruzen, drop what you're doing. This is our time to shine!" Danzo clenched his fists, his eyes blazing with determination. To him, today was the day to carve his name into history, the day the decision for the next Hokage would be made.

Without waiting for a response, Danzo dragged Hiruzen out of the lab. Today, he would prove himself on the battlefield.

The next instant, Kakuzu found himself outside. A quick glance at the towering gates confirmed their location—Konohagakure's entrance.

Ahead, a lone man approached the village gates, a scroll strapped to his back.

"Madara! You can't leave!"

Tobirama's voice was sharp, his piercing gaze fixed on Uchiha Madara. Lowering his stance, Tobirama prepared for battle. At any moment, he was ready to use the Flying Thunder God Technique to strike down the defector.

Madara stopped, turning slowly. His long black hair framed his intense, domineering eyes.

"Can't leave?" he said, his voice laced with disdain. "And you think you can stop me?"

Madara's gaze shifted briefly to Kakuzu. "What about you? Are you here to try your luck too?"

A cold breeze swept through, scattering fallen leaves.

Kakuzu internally sighed. This situation was far from ideal. He wanted no part in this.

Madara, don't misunderstand. Whether you leave or not has nothing to do with me. It's Tobirama who dragged me into this mess.

Suppressing his growing frustration, Kakuzu weighed his options. A peaceful resolution seemed unlikely, especially with Tobirama's unwavering resolve.

"Madara, you can leave," Tobirama said, his voice cutting through the tension. "But the Nine-Tails on your back belongs to Konoha. Leave it behind."

Madara's cold laugh echoed. Turning to fully face Tobirama, he smirked.

"So, you want to dance as well?"

As he spoke, the tomoe in Madara's Sharingan spun rapidly, evolving into the Mangekyō.

The killing intent that followed was suffocating, turning the air heavy. The gusts of wind swirling around him felt like blades, forcing Tobirama and Kakuzu to shield their faces as they retreated a few steps.

The gap in strength was undeniable.

Kakuzu's thoughts raced.

Tobirama, I get your grudge, but this is reckless. You're facing someone who has every reason to hate you. Madara has suppressed his rage for years, but now? Now, it's just a matter of time before this explodes.

Silently, Kakuzu activated his Earth Grudge Fear, ensuring his heart threads were buried deep underground. If things went south, at least his survival was guaranteed.

Just as the battle seemed inevitable—

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!

Dozens of Anbu operatives arrived, their movements sharp and coordinated. In mere moments, they had formed a perimeter around Madara.

This was Konoha's emergency response team—elite shinobi ready to act at a moment's notice. With Tobirama and Kakuzu in the mix, their combined force was formidable, enough to make any of the other Kage hesitate.

But to Madara, they were mere annoyances.

"Insects," he sneered.

His chakra flared, and the oppressive energy shook the ground beneath them. He began forming seals, the outline of a Susanoo starting to materialize.

"Madara-sama, please, calm down."

A voice cut through the tension.

Madara paused, glancing over his shoulder.

The speaker was a member of the Nara clan, his calculating eyes betraying the pressure he was under.

"The Hokage will be here shortly."

Madara's chakra stilled, if only slightly.

The word Hokage hung in the air, stirring something within him. It was a title he had once dreamed of but had long since abandoned. The memories it carried were both bitter and nostalgic, a painful reminder of what had been lost.

Moments later, a figure arrived, parting the crowd effortlessly.

Draped in the Hokage's cloak, Hashirama Senju stepped forward.

The surrounding shinobi instinctively moved aside, giving him a direct path to Madara.

Hashirama stopped a few paces away, his gaze heavy with emotion.

He didn't shout or demand answers. He simply looked at his old friend, his expression a complex mix of sorrow and understanding.

For a moment, the battlefield fell silent, the weight of their history hanging thick in the air.

Finally, he spoke.

"Madara... Konoha is our dream."

No arguments, no condemnations—just the simplicity of a shared childhood ambition. Back then, they were pure, untouched by the world's complexities. Those promises they made as children were what they had cherished the most. Now, nearly everything they once dreamed of had come to pass. To abandon it now would feel like denying their past selves.

Hashirama desperately wanted to know what Madara truly thought at this moment. Surely, somewhere in his heart, that childhood dream still stirred, however faintly.

Madara closed his eyes, and for a fleeting moment, his lips seemed to curve slightly, as if reminiscing. But when he opened them again, his face was devoid of emotion. Perhaps even that brief flicker of sentiment was the last remnant of his nostalgia.

Then, in front of everyone present, Madara spoke.

"Hashirama, the world doesn't work the way you wish it to. The longer you live, the more you'll come to understand the futility, pain, and emptiness that permeate reality. Listen well: wherever there is light, there will always be shadow. The concept of victory necessitates the existence of defeat. To pursue peace with selfish intent only leads to war. To protect love inevitably breeds hatred. These forces are bound by cause and effect, they cannot be separated. That is reality."

When Madara finished speaking, the hundred or so shinobi gathered fell into unified silence. Everyone understood: Madara's words stood in stark opposition to the ideals of the Hokage.

It made sense, then, why Madara had chosen to leave Konoha. Ideological differences—it was reasonable enough. But Kakuzu, observing the scene from the sidelines, noticed something else.

Among the crowd, there were those who frowned slightly, like Nara Shoroku and others known for their intellect. They seemed to sense it too: Madara's words weren't merely a disagreement with Hashirama's ideals.

Turning his gaze back to Madara, Kakuzu thought of the rumors. It was common knowledge that Madara had been manipulated by Black Zetsu, which ultimately led to his downfall. If the timeline was accurate, Madara must have already seen the altered tablet.

Even so, Kakuzu was certain: these words weren't the result of Black Zetsu's influence. That creature didn't even have the courage to show itself before Madara at this point. No, these were Madara's own conclusions, born of his personal philosophy.

Kakuzu couldn't deny it—Madara's argument felt far more grounded in reality than Hashirama's idealism. While Hashirama envisioned spreading love across the shinobi world, it was an admirable dream, but one that seemed impossibly naive. As Madara said, love and hatred are intertwined, bound by causality.

In terms of philosophical depth, Madara had surpassed Hashirama. He had only fallen because of Black Zetsu's manipulation. Even so, Kakuzu couldn't help but regard Madara as the "philosopher of the shinobi world." Such insights were beyond the reach of most.

Shaking his head, Kakuzu pulled himself out of his thoughts. With Hashirama present, it was clear that this battle wouldn't happen. A subtle sense of relief washed over him.

Scanning the surroundings, Kakuzu noticed the gathering crowd had grown significantly. Beside him, two young shinobi had appeared at some point.

Sarutobi Hiruzen's gaze was fixed on Madara, his brow deeply furrowed as he pondered the Uchiha's words. Meanwhile, Danzo muttered to himself, "Where there is light, there must be shadow..."

What the—? Kakuzu suddenly realized these two were already genin. Judging by their expressions, they had absorbed Madara's words entirely. Light and shadow.

Looking at the two boys' earnest faces, Kakuzu felt a foreboding chill. The seeds of Konoha's darkness—the roots hidden in the shadows—were being planted.

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