Chapter 30: Obito meeting Madara

Several hours bled into night. Madara Uchiha, a stoic figure perched on a chair, fixed his gaze on the holographic projection before him. White Zetsu had completed his task – Obito's mangled form lay recuperating nearby.

Patience, a quality Madara had honed over decades, was key now. He waited for Obito to stir.

A groan echoed through the cavernous space, signaling Obito's return to consciousness. The oppressive darkness of the ceiling was the first thing to greet his blurry vision.

Panic clawed at him as he tried to rise, only to discover his body was a traitor, refusing to obey his commands. He could only manage a sluggish turn, his lone remaining eye scanning his surroundings in a desperate attempt to understand his predicament.

His gaze landed on Uchiha Madara, the Sharingan in the old man's eye a beacon in the gloom. A torrent of questions flooded Obito's mind.

Where was he? Who was this imposing Uchiha elder? He prided himself on recognizing most of the village's senior members, but this figure remained a complete stranger. Most importantly, was he dead? Or was he somehow alive, adrift in a nightmarish limbo?

Madara, sensing Obito's awareness, deactivated the White Zetsu projection with a flip of his wrist. He rose with a slowness born of age and approached the young Uchiha.

"Young Uchiha. You've finally awakened."

Madara rumbled in a voice surprisingly gentle for its gravelly quality but it scared the hell out of Drama Queen Obito.

"Who are you? Some reaper destined to claim Uchiha souls? Please, have mercy! I beg you, don't take my life!"

Logic dictated that only a fellow Uchiha could possess the Sharingan. Yet, there hadn't been any news of defectors, especially not one as frail as this old man.

The most logical explanation, then, was that he faced a malevolent spirit, a grim reaper of the Uchiha clan.

"…"

Madara was speechless, momentarily stunned by Obito's frantic pleas. A genius who'd awakened the rare two tomoe Sharingan in his youth, and yet, here he was, getting scared of some ghost

At Obito's age, Madara had already led his clan into battle against the Senjus. It was this very naivety, however, that made Obito the perfect candidate for his grand design. After all, wasn't it extreme love that fueled the most potent hatred?

Witnessing the brutality of the ninja world would surely forge a formidable Mangekyo Sharingan within the young Uchiha. But for now, Madara knew, patience was required. He would orchestrate Obito's awakening slowly, meticulously.

A contemplative silence descended upon them. Finally, Madara spoke, his voice laced with a hint of weariness.

"There was a time when they called me the Death God. Now, however, I am but a shadow of my former self – an Uchiha ghost haunting the ninja world. You can call me Madara... Madara Uchiha."

Obito's breath hitched.

"Madara? As if that... Madara, the Uchiha leader? He's been dead for years!"

Madara's lips curled into a sardonic sneer.

"So you find it easier to believe I'm a reaper of souls than Uchiha Madara himself? Times have truly changed. The new generation forgets legends all too quickly. But that's of little consequence now. So many years have passed."

He shifted in his seat, leaning forward with an intensity that belied his years.

"However, before the earth claimed you when the boulder crushed you, I saved your life. How do you plan to repay my kindness?"

Obito's gaze darted down to his bandaged midsection. A flicker of recognition sparked in his eyes as he recalled the events before his descent into unconsciousness. This Madara, this spectral figure, had indeed saved him.

"What repayment do you seek for such a kindness?"

Obito inquired, a flicker of wariness creeping into his voice.

"Surely you wouldn't expect me to become your servant? I am indebted to you for saving my life, but the war rages on outside. My comrades need me. They need my protection!"

He attempted to rise, a surge of determination pushing against his weakened body.

"You can leave if you want. Just leave your Sharingan and half of your body. Although I don't lack Sharingan, I also want to collect a few more Sharingan as a backup."

Madara smirked.  

"I can leave if that's all you desire. But wouldn't taking my Sharingan, half my body, be a bit excessive? You already possess Sharingan; why collect more as mere backups?"

Obito's defiance surprised Madara, but a flicker of amusement danced in his lone eye. This boy, brash and naive, possessed a fire that could be molded. He watched with detached patience as Obito slumped back onto the bed, his bravado fading into a desperate plea.

"What kind of repayment do you require? Is there a way to repay your debt and still be free? Surely you don't intend to imprison me indefinitely?"

Madara met Obito's gaze, his patience unwavering. He had a plan, a meticulously crafted path to mold Obito into his successor.

All he needed was the right moment – the moment to expose Obito to the true darkness of the ninja world, a darkness that would fuel despair and ultimately lead him to embrace Madara's vision – the Eye of the Moon Plan.

But then, a memory surfaced in Madara's mind, a fragment of the scene he'd witnessed through the White Zetsu projection. A new idea, a twisted seed of manipulation, began to take root.

White Zetsu materialized from the shadows, a silent specter tasked by Madara. In its spindly hand, it held a scroll – an advanced Fire Release technique.

White Zetsu presented the scroll to Obito, who accepted it with one hand, his brow furrowed in concern.

"Repaying your debt won't be a quick endeavor. Master this jutsu first. Before I succumb to sleep again, I expect to see you perform it flawlessly. Don't disappoint me."

With that pronouncement, Madara slumped back in his chair, his eyelids fluttering shut. Only a handful of White Zetsu remained, their vacant eyes fixed on Obito.

Madara, sustained by the life force of the Demonic Statue of the Outer Path, loathed his frail shell. Aside from keeping tabs on a few key figures, he spent most of his existence in a state of slumber.

Obito, wincing with each movement, propped himself against the damp wall. With his one good hand, he unfurled the scroll, revealing the complex seals for Fire Release: Great Fire Annihilation – a high-level B-rank jutsu. He'd only witnessed Jonin within his clan wield such power. Mastering it would demand considerable time and chakra reserves.

He stole a glance at the slumbering Madara, then at the grotesque White Zetsu surrounding him. The memory of his ravaged body, devoid of sensation, stoked a deep despair. Resigned to his captivity, Obito delved into the intricacies of the scroll.

Since escape seemed an immediate impossibility, focusing on honing his skills became his sole solace. Perhaps, in time, he'd possess the strength to protect Rin and Kakashi. He could even use his newfound abilities to impress Minato, his revered sensei.

Days bled into one another. Then, one morning, Madara stirred from his slumber, his gaze snapping towards Obito.

"Have you mastered the jutsu? It's been three days only, and I am not seeing any progression."

Obito flinched, startled by the sudden interruption. Regaining his composure, he countered,

"This is such a complex jutsu! Three days are simply insufficient. Mastering it will take at least three weeks."

Madara snorted derisively.

"Pathetic talent. At this glacial pace, repaying your debt in this lifetime seems unlikely."

Obito, surprisingly, had begun to adjust to his bizarre circumstances. He met Madara's scorn with a hint of defiance.

"Even Kakashi, a prodigy, wouldn't master this jutsu in three days. Your expectations are unreasonable!"

"Unreasonable, am I?"

Madara's voice dripped with icy amusement. He beckoned a White Zetsu forward, who promptly activated a holographic projection. The scene depicted a training session between Nagato and a cloaked figure – Byakuya.

After a grueling physical training session that stretched for kilometers, Byakuya produced a peculiar book, its pages filled with fantastical tales of the Six Paths Sage. He then proceeded to manipulate Nagato with its fantastical contents.

Obito, his curiosity piqued after weeks of isolation, edged closer to Madara's side. The bleakness of his underground confinement had fostered a yearning for any glimpse of the outside world. The projection held his full attention.

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