048 Reborn as the Third Kazekage

"Madara-sama really has it tough, hiding this deep underground. An old man staying out of the sun for so long must be risking some serious osteoporosis!" Arashi quipped as he observed. He couldn't help but admire its location—it wasn't far from Konohagakure, yet completely remote. Though technically on a peninsula, the area was barren, devoid of any greenery. The desolation extended for miles, ensuring no one would come near. Truly, a masterful use of the concept of "hiding in plain sight."

"This place is so bleak. How has he managed to live here for so long? What about food? The nearest village must be dozens of miles away!"

Black Zetsu glanced back at Arashi.

"I don't remember you being such a chatterbox."

Arashi shrugged.

"I'm about to meet my idol. I'm a little excited."

"Madara-sama is your idol?" Black Zetsu sounded genuinely surprised.

"Of course! He was the man who once stood at the pinnacle of the shinobi world," Arashi replied with the enthusiasm of a fan meeting a celebrity.

"Oh? Then why isn't your idol Hashirama Senju? He was even stronger than Madara-sama."

Arashi grinned.

"Between a dead man and a living legend, I prefer the latter."

As they descended further, the light grew dimmer. It was impossible to tell how long they walked, but the path gradually widened, and the visibility improved. Suddenly, the space ahead opened up dramatically. Arashi looked up to see a skylight directly above, allowing sunlight to illuminate the cavern as if it were the surface.

A colossal humanoid figure loomed in the distance, bound by chains. Its face bore nine closed eyes, its skin and body as withered as old wood, and ten spiked projections extended from its back.

At the center of its chest was a humanoid protrusion—likely a cultivation pod for Hashirama cells, designed by Madara. The entire statue exuded an eerie majesty, both grand and grotesque. Three dangling tubes from the statue's abdomen connected to a hunched, elderly figure.

The old man wore a tattered black cloak, his long white hair flowing to his waist. His head hung low, concealing his face. At the sound of their footsteps, he slowly lifted his head.

"Young man, are you the one seeking me?" The voice was aged, low, and magnetic.

Arashi stared wide-eyed, taking in the legendary shinobi before him.

His first impression was of thinness—a skeletal frame that seemed ready to collapse with the slightest breeze. The man was nothing but skin and bones, save for the small pockets of fat under his eyes.

His second impression was of age—an unimaginable level of old. The man resembled an oversized shrimp shell, his back permanently hunched. Without the subtle rise and fall of his chest and the movement of his eyes, one might have mistaken him for a preserved specimen.

Sunken cheeks, pallid skin tinged blue, and a forehead veined like a roadmap all spoke of the ravages of time. His hair, wild and white, covered one eye. The other, however, was a Sharingan—a Mangekyo Sharingan, no less! (Madara's Rinnegan had already been transplanted into Nagato at this point, leaving him with one Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan. According to the original anime and manga, his left eye was obscured by hair, and it's unclear whether it was blind or functional. As for why his eyes didn't leave empty sockets after transplantation, let's just chalk it up to canon magic.)

"I can't believe it. You're really alive! May I ask a favor?"

"Hmm?" Madara seemed curious.

"Could you sign an autograph for me?" Arashi eagerly pulled out a pen and notebook, thrusting them toward Madara.

Madara gave Arashi a bewildered look before turning to Black Zetsu.

"He says you're his idol," Black Zetsu explained.

"An idol? What's so admirable about a failed relic clinging to life?"

"Clinging to life is better than becoming a handful of dust. The last one standing is the true victor," Arashi countered.

Madara closed his eyes in thought, then smiled faintly. Slowly, he took the pen and gracefully signed his name.

"Young man, let's talk." Madara sat down naturally, his frail frame exuding an overwhelming aura. The Mangekyo Sharingan in his visible eye glowed menacingly.

Arashi felt a jolt in his chest as his vision blurred momentarily. Then, a cool sensation spread from his chest to his brain, clearing his mind. His earlier sycophantic demeanor vanished. Casually dusting off a stone bench, he crossed one leg over the other and sat down.

"All right. Let's talk."

...

Meanwhile, at Sunagakure

"This will be your office from now on," Chiyo said kindly, gesturing to the chair behind the Intelligence Division's desk.

"Oh no, Chiyo-sama, you should…" Rasa began to protest but was cut off by Chiyo's raised hand.

"Rasa, I know what you're going to say, and I appreciate it. But stepping down isn't a pretense—I truly can't keep up anymore. I don't want to hold back the younger generation or jeopardize the village's future by overstaying my welcome."

Chiyo smiled wearily. From the First Kazekage's era to Arashi's, she had dedicated her life to Sunagakure. But now, nearing seventy, she found herself dozing off while reviewing intelligence reports late at night. Recognizing the risk, she decisively submitted her resignation.

Despite Arashi's repeated attempts to dissuade her, Chiyo insisted. In the end, Arashi accepted her resignation as head of the Intelligence Division and commander of the ANBU, though he retained her as head of the Medical Corps and a member of the Council. He also named her a senior advisor, ensuring her benefits remained unchanged—a dignified transition to a supporting role.

"Rasa, I watched you and Arashi grow up. You're steady and meticulous, so I trust the Intelligence Division in your hands. These are turbulent times, and Arashi has worked hard for our current stability. He carries a heavy burden, you must help lighten it."

"Yes," Rasa replied sincerely.

"Intelligence work is intricate but boils down to internal and external matters. For internal affairs, consult Jinchuriki or Takeshi of the Anti-Corruption Bureau. For external operations, most of the covert lines are handled by Ebizo or my foolish son, Sasori. You can call a meeting later to organize things. If you have questions, I'm here."

"Yes," Rasa said, feeling a lump in his throat. His admiration for this woman who had given her life to the village was immeasurable.

"What's with the face? I'm retiring, not dying. Can't an old lady rest?" Chiyo quipped.

At that moment, a small figure burst through the door.

"Grandma!" Sasori exclaimed, running into her arms. Chiyo affectionately ruffled his hair.

"Sasori, don't come here anymore. From now on, Grandma will pick you up after school every day."

"Really? That's great!" Sasori beamed.

"Yes, let's go home," Chiyo said, taking his hand and turning to leave.

"All staff of the Intelligence Division, salute Chiyo-sama!" Rasa called out, bowing deeply.

Employees from the surrounding offices lined up, bowing in unison as Chiyo passed. Chiyo accepted their gestures with calm dignity, nodding in acknowledgment. Sasori watched the scene wide-eyed, clutching his grandmother's hand.

At the door, Chiyo gave a parting wave.

"Work hard, everyone. The future is bright!"