My dreams are shattered… but yours will live on, Hashirama."
Ninja. Village. Peace.
All those ideals—so carefully woven—were severed in an instant. With the final flicker of nostalgia for the world he once ruled, Uchiha Madara let his eyes fall shut.
In the endless darkness, he dreamed.
And in that dream, peace had finally arrived. The Five Great Nations stood united, not in fear, but in mutual respect. Shinobi walked side by side, not as weapons, but as guardians. No more wars, no Akatsuki, no tailed beasts used as pawns. The world bloomed like spring after a brutal winter.
In that dream, his eyes drifted upward—carved into the face of Mount Hokage was his own likeness. The Fifth, perhaps. Or maybe the First, as it was always meant to be. He stood atop the stone statue, gazing upon a thriving Konoha. Children laughed. People thrived. And peace, for once, was real.
But then… the skies split open.
The blue sky dissolved, swallowed by a creeping black. The sun was extinguished in an instant—replaced by a massive, frozen full moon hanging still and lifeless in the sky.
Madara's heart clenched. Something was wrong.
Wake up.
"Where… is this place?"
Madara's eyes shot open. A cold wind bit at him. Weakness surged through his limbs like a venom. His chakra—gone. His vision was foggy, slowly sharpening. And what he saw brought silence to his soul.
The dream had not ended. The moon still hung above. But now, it wasn't a metaphor. It was real.
The sky was a pale void—void of stars, void of life. The very air reeked of death, battle, and bloodlust. The moonlight overhead was not gentle. It cut like a blade, cold and merciless.
Madara pushed himself to his feet, his balance unsteady. All around him was barren land: shifting dunes of bone-white sand, jagged rocky outcrops, and no trace of chakra.
This was not the Elemental Nations.
"Where am I…?" he murmured.
His Mangekyō Sharingan, long since faded in his final battle, could not answer. A searing pain split his skull. Fragmented memories poured in. Life. Death. Kaguya. The Infinite Tsukuyomi. The battle against Naruto and Sasuke. His own death.
And now… rebirth.
Madara closed his eyes again, forcing clarity into chaos. When he opened them, realization struck. He was no longer in the realm of shinobi.
By a twist of fate—or perhaps by the hand of something more powerful—he had been reborn into another world. A realm steeped in death, where Hollows hunt and devour, where Arrancar reign beneath a cold king, and the Shinigami struggle to maintain balance.
Hueco Mundo.
He, Uchiha Madara—the ghost of the shinobi world—had crossed into the land of Hollows.
And yet, he felt no fear. His heart was still.
Shisui had once said, "True power is the ability to act in the face of fear."
Madara had surpassed fear long ago.
He stood—not as a man, but something else. He looked down at his body: bleached white bones, limbs warped into something inhuman, and a heavy mask covering his face like a sealed fate.
He staggered toward a shallow stream carved into the sands. The reflection rippled, but the truth was clear.
Gone was the Uchiha visage. In its place—a Hollow mask, thick and jagged like a broken blade. His skeletal body was monstrous, inhuman.
"This form…"
Recognition flashed in his eyes.
It was like the armored frame of Susanoo—raw, fearsome, absolute. But this wasn't chakra. It wasn't ninjutsu. It was something darker. More primal.
A Vasto Lorde? No—not yet. Something beneath that. A newly born Hollow, perhaps… but unlike any other.
He reached for the mask, attempting to tear it off. It refused. His power—sealed. His form—cursed.
"I've… become a monster," Madara muttered, the words tinged with bitter amusement.
But even as he spoke them, something shifted in his eye.
A sliver of black split the red, and a single tomoe formed. The first stage of the Sharingan. It burned—not with chakra, but with will.
He chuckled darkly. Fate had tried to bury him. To mock him. To break him.
And yet, here he was.
In a world of monsters, killers, and kings, Uchiha Madara would not kneel. He would climb, devour, dominate. Hueco Mundo would remember his name.
Reborn at the bottom. Destined for the throne.
Because even here—
He is still Uchiha Madara.