Moonwalker
The Uchiha princess's funeral was held with the most lavish ceremony Konoha had ever seen. The entire village was shrouded in a solemn white, with pure white paper lanterns lining the streets. Even the most secluded alleys were stained by this hue of death. The villagers spontaneously donned plain clothing and stood silently, heads bowed, along the roadside, bidding farewell to this lady renowned for her gentleness.
The funeral procession slowly set out from the Senju clan's territory. At the front was a coffin carried by eight Uchiha clan members, draped in a white silk cloth embroidered with the clan crest. Behind the coffin, Uchiha Madara walked alone. He was dressed in pure black mourning clothes, his face expressionless, as if all emotion had vanished with his sister's passing. His steps were steady and resolute, each a final farewell to the village he had helped to build.
Senju Tobirama and Uzumaki Mito followed closely behind, both faces etched with unconcealable grief. In Tobirama's hands, he clutched a bouquet of wisteria flowers—Aoi's favorite. His knuckles were white from the strain, as if he were pouring all his anger and resentment into the flowers.
At the end of the group came Hashirama Senju and the other clan representatives. Hashirama's usual cheerful smile had vanished, replaced by a deep sadness and worry. His gaze remained fixed on Madara's lonely figure, as if trying to hold on to his fading friend.
As the coffin was slowly lowered into the grave, a light rain began to fall, and the raindrops gently hit the tombstone, making a sound like weeping.
Madara stood in front of his sister's grave, the rain running down his pale cheeks, mixing with the blood and tears that had not yet dried. He knelt on one knee, his fingertips gently stroking the name that had just been engraved on the tombstone - "Uchiha Aoi".
"I've lost even the last person I wanted to protect," he said, his voice so soft it was almost drowned out by the sound of the rain. "What's the point of such peace..."
At that moment, everyone present felt a suffocating despair. It was not just ordinary sadness, but a complete denial of the entire world and all ideals.
After the funeral, the crowd gradually dispersed, only Ban was still standing in front of the grave, like a stone statue, accompanied by the cold tombstone.
Night fell, the rain had stopped, and moonlight shone through the gaps in the clouds onto the cemetery. Madara still stood there, motionless.
In extreme despair, his thoughts drifted back to the past.
He saw the young Izunai following behind him, trying to imitate his every move. "Brother, teach me that technique!" Izunai's voice was clear and full of energy.
He saw his father patting his shoulder, his eyes full of expectation: "The future of the Uchiha clan is in your hands, Madara."
He saw his first encounter with Hashirama by the river, the two young men discussing their longing for peace. "One day, we will build a village where children won't have to go to war," Hashirama's voice was filled with unwavering conviction.
He saw Izuna collapsed in his arms, blood staining their clothes. "Brother... Uchiha... I'm leaving it to you..." Those were Izuna's last words.
He saw Aoi wearing a white wedding dress and forcing a smile at the wedding. "Brother, please bless me." She said so at the time, but there was an unconcealable worry in her eyes.
He saw the grand occasion of ninjas from all races gathering together when Konoha was founded. At that moment, he truly believed that peace had arrived.
However, now, Izuna and Aoi have left him, his father has long been killed in the war, and even his friendship with Hashirama has been irreparably damaged.
"Every time I try to protect something, I end up losing it." Madara whispered to himself, raindrops dripping from the ends of his hair. "Is this fate's mockery of me?"
His eyes fell on his hands, hands that had once held weapons, formed seals, built villages, and embraced deceased relatives. But now, they were empty, unable to grasp anything, unable to protect anything.
"Humanity is ultimately incapable of bringing true peace..." This thought, like the deadliest poison, slowly eroded his remaining sanity. "Fighting, betrayal, death... This is the nature of humanity. Hashirama, you are too naive..."
He remembered what Kui had said before her death: "Brother, I believe that understanding and tolerance can resolve hatred." However, now, her death just proved the fragility of this belief.
Late at night, Madara arrived alone at the Nanga Shrine. This sacred site of the Uchiha clan housed stone tablets that only the clan leader could decipher. Moonlight filtered through the shrine's window lattices, casting dappled shadows across the ancient floorboards.
Madara lit a candle in the shrine, and the dim light illuminated the mysterious stone tablet. His Mangekyō Sharingan shone eerily in the darkness, and the hidden words on the stone tablet gradually became apparent as he watched.
"Infinite Tsukuyomi..." Madara whispered the unfamiliar words, "Create a dream world without war and pain..."
This thought ignited a strange light in his desperate heart. If true peace could not be achieved in the real world, then creating an ideal dream world where everyone could be immersed in happiness, wasn't this the ultimate solution?
"I will find the true path to salvation." The fire in Madara's eyes rekindled, but it was no longer the idealistic light of the past, but an almost crazy obsession, "even if it means making the whole world an enemy."
He took one last look out the window at the slumbering Konoha. The village lights twinkled in the night, like a galaxy of stars descending into the mortal realm. There lay his former dreams, the vows he and Hashirama had made together, and a past he could never undo.
"Goodbye, Hashirama," Madara said softly, "Perhaps one day you will understand that the path I have chosen is the path to true redemption."
He left a brief farewell letter at the shrine and walked into the night without looking back.
The next morning, Hashirama found the letter left by Madara at the Nanga Shrine. When he finished reading the few words, he felt as if struck by lightning and fell to his knees helplessly.
"To Hashirama:
I'm gone, no need to look for me.
This village no longer needs me, and I no longer need this false peace.
Maybe one day in the future, you will understand my choice.
treasure.
--spot"
Hashirama clutched the letter tightly, his knuckles turning white from the strain. His eyes were filled with pain and confusion. Why had Madara chosen to leave? Why had their shared dream been shattered in this way?
He rushed out of the shrine, frantically searching for his best friend, but Madara had disappeared into the morning mist, leaving no trace.
Uchiha Madara, one of the founders of Konoha, embarked on the journey of no return to pursue the "Eye of the Moon" plan with a heart full of despair and anger.
In the shadows, where no one noticed, Black Zetsu smiled with satisfaction. His plan was going so smoothly, beyond his expectations.
"Very good, Madara has finally taken the first step." Black Zetsu's voice was filled with the joy of a successful plot. "Next, we just need to slowly guide him and make him fully accept the principles of the Moon Eye..."
It recalled how it had cleverly tampered with the contents of the stone tablet on the Nanga Shrine, how it had guided Madara when he was at his most vulnerable, and how it had ensured that he walked along the predetermined path.
"Mother, please wait a moment longer." Black Despair looked up at the moon in the sky, his eyes filled with fervent anticipation. "Your loyal son will soon bring you back to the light of day."
It slowly sank into the ground, as silently as it had appeared. Behind it, Konoha welcomed the first day without Uchiha Madara, and the fate of the entire ninja world also took an irreversible direction.
Madara walked alone on the road out of Konoha, the morning mist making his figure seem even more lonely. He no longer had any attachment to the past, only the persistent pursuit of that illusory "path to salvation".
Ahead of him lay a dark road filled with thorns, and behind him lay everything he once cherished, now shattered.
The morning bell of Konoha rang as usual, but the man who once listened to the bell with Hashirama Senju would never come back.
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