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The next day, Uchiha Madara left behind a wooden clone to oversee affairs in Uchiha Village while he quietly departed for Konoha. Aside from White Zetsu, no one knew of his whereabouts.
Madara maintained a steady pace as he flew through the air, taking an entire day to reach Konoha by nightfall.
Hovering high above the village, standing on thin air, Madara gazed down at the sprawling lights of Konoha below. The bustling streets, the orderly buildings, and the peaceful demeanor of its villagers were all visible under the moonlight.
Madara couldn't deny that, in this era, there was no place where people lived more comfortably than in Konoha.
However, comfort did not equate to complacency.
Under the watchful gaze of his Sharingan, nothing in Konoha could escape his notice. He saw the ANBU stationed throughout the village, the barrier teams monitoring the perimeter, the locations of Konoha's leadership, and even the critical military and political strongholds.
For someone of Madara's caliber, infiltrating Konoha undetected was child's play.
In the blink of an eye, Madara vanished from the sky and reappeared moments later in a quiet alleyway within the village. With an air of nonchalance, he strolled onto the brightly lit streets of Konoha, blending seamlessly into the crowd like any ordinary villager.
What? You ask why no one recognized him?
Madara's appearance had changed drastically—he now sported short hair and wore an entirely different outfit. And let's not forget, his genjutsu wasn't just for show.
Under the subtle influence of Madara's illusionary hypnosis, both the bustling villagers and the vigilant ANBU subconsciously dismissed him as an ordinary passerby, paying him no mind.
Dressed in black, Madara wandered the lively streets of Konoha, savoring the vibrant atmosphere and noise that couldn't be found elsewhere.
He behaved like a typical tourist, casually exploring every corner of the village. Wherever there was a crowd, he went; wherever there was entertainment, he joined in.
As time passed, the hour approached ten o'clock at night.
Though the streets of Konoha remained well-lit, the number of people had thinned considerably. At this hour, most who remained outside were either young revelers or drunken stragglers.
Madara walked alone, passing by one pedestrian after another. He seemed to blend perfectly into the environment, yet at the same time, he felt out of place, as if he didn't truly belong.
After some time, Madara stopped in front of a shop.
Turning his head, he read the sign hanging above the entrance—four bold characters: *Ichiraku Ramen*!
A flicker of interest sparked in Madara's eyes.
This was none other than the legendary Ichiraku Ramen from the original story!
The owner, Teuchi, was said to be the true final boss of the ninja world—Ōtsutsuki Ichiraku! (Or so the joke went.)
Curiosity piqued, Madara decided to step inside. If the current owner of this establishment was indeed Teuchi's father, thirty years before the events of the original story, then this visit would be quite amusing.
With a mix of mockery and amusement, Madara entered Ichiraku Ramen.
"Welcome!" ×2
Two voices—one old, one young—greeted him warmly. Looking up, Madara saw a man in his sixties standing behind the counter alongside a boy around ten years old.
At a glance, Madara recognized the boy as Teuchi from the original story. As for the older man, he was likely Teuchi's father—the current owner of Ichiraku Ramen.
With a casual smile, Madara took a seat at the center of the counter. Despite being a first-time visitor, he acted like a regular customer, calling out confidently to the owner:
"A large bowl of tonkotsu chashu ramen!"
"Coming right up! One large bowl of tonkotsu chashu ramen! Please wait a moment—it'll be ready soon!"
While Madara briefly let his mind wander, the enthusiastic owner quickly served his order.
Picking up his chopsticks, Madara dug in without hesitation.
Mmm… The broth was rich, the noodles firm and chewy, the chashu tender and flavorful, and the bamboo shoots added a satisfying crunch.
Ichiraku Ramen truly lived up to its reputation. It was so delicious that Madara briefly entertained the idea of kidnapping the father-son duo and bringing them back to Uchiha Village.
Finishing the bowl in record time, Madara left payment on the counter amidst the owners' profuse thanks. He exited the shop and slipped into a nearby alleyway.
Once inside the shadows, Madara's demeanor shifted instantly. Gone was the relaxed, carefree attitude, replaced by his usual cold and calculating aura.
Glancing left and right, Madara relied on his memory to navigate through the darkness, skillfully avoiding detection by the ANBU as he made his way toward the Senju clan's compound.
As one of the founding clans of Konoha and the family of both the First and Second Hokages, the Senju clan was a shadow of its former glory. Though they still occupied a significant portion of the village, their numbers had dwindled significantly.
Among the few remaining members of the Senju clan, there were no standout figures. The most notable individuals were Mito Uzumaki, the widow of the First Hokage, and Tsunade, granddaughter of the First and Second Hokages. Her younger brother, Nawaki, who showed promise, barely counted as well.
In the desolate heart of the Senju compound stood the residence of the clan head. Here, the elderly Mito Uzumaki lived alone.
Her face lined with wrinkles, her hair completely gray, Mito sat on a tatami mat, her eyes half-closed. She resembled a withered tree nearing the end of its life—a sight that evoked pity.
The door slid open, and a young, beautiful Tsunade entered. As she often did in the evenings, she came to check on Mito. Kneeling beside her grandmother, she gazed worriedly at Mito's frail form and asked softly:
"Grandma, is the Nine-Tails restless again?"