Upon hearing her grandmother say this, Tsunade felt relieved once more.
"As long as his life is preserved, that is all that matters. Grandmother, do you think Isamu will ever wake up?"
Uzumaki Mito pondered for a moment before sighing.
"Little Tsunade, I do not wish to lie to you. To be honest, I do not know if Isamu will be able to wake up; everything depends on him now."
"Is that so?" Hearing her grandmother's words, Tsunade instantly felt saddened. However, realizing that Isamu's life had been preserved, she managed to find some comfort.
"It is fine. As long as his life is saved, that is enough. I believe that one day Isamu will wake up safely. I will wait for him."
Meanwhile, the Jonin White Zetsu standing to the side watched Tsunade, his heart filled with guilt.
This unlucky woman… I owe her too much. If only time could be reversed…
He cut off the thought. No, it's too late for that. I can only hope I wake up soon.
Indeed, this White Zetsu was Isamu—or rather, Isamu's consciousness. He had used most of the life energy Uzumaki Mito had given him to forcibly awaken, opening the Rinnegan and transferring his consciousness into the White Zetsu's body.
Seeing Tsunade so distressed, Isamu instinctively reached out to comfort her. But when he saw his pale white hand, he froze and pulled it back.
No… this isn't my real body. This is just a White Zetsu. I'll wait until I return to my true body.
He then turned his gaze toward Uzumaki Mito.
"Since you have preserved Isamu's life, it is time for us to leave."
Even saying his own name like that felt strange.
Without waiting for a response, Isamu led the nine White Zetsu and sank into the ground, disappearing from Uzumaki Mito's home.
Jiraiya and Tsunade paid no attention to their departure—they didn't care whether the White Zetsu stayed or left. Meanwhile, Orochimaru and Uzumaki Mito watched them disappear into the ground, each lost in thought.
After merging into the earth, White Zetsu Isamu used the Mayfly Technique to travel at high speed toward the destination he had long been searching for. Now that his consciousness had fused with the White Zetsu body, he had access to its memories—and with that, he finally knew the exact location of that person.
So you were hiding in the Land of Fire, fifty kilometers from Kannabi Bridge… I searched for so long, and you were right here.
A cold smile appeared on his face.
Madara… just wait. I'm coming.
Driven by anticipation, Isamu traveled nonstop, without rest or food. After four days, he finally arrived at a dense forest near his destination.
Crossing the forest, he reached a region filled with jagged, unnatural rock formations.
Isamu narrowed his eyes.
Underground, huh… No wonder no one could find you. You even set up an illusion barrier. Cunning old fox.
Following the White Zetsu path, he entered the underground base. Soon, he and the others stood before Uchiha Madara.
Isamu observed him carefully—and what he saw surprised him.
This Madara was nothing like the one in his memories.
The Madara he remembered stood tall, holding the Gunbai and a scythe, radiating overwhelming dominance. But the man before him now was frail—white-haired, wrinkled, and visibly aged. A white tube extended from his back, connected to the Demonic Statue of the Outer Path.
This wasn't the legendary Madara.
This was a dying old man.
At that moment, Madara spoke hoarsely from his stone seat.
"How did it go? Did Uzumaki Mito manage to preserve Isamu's life?"
Hearing that, Isamu's expression subtly changed.
There was genuine concern in Madara's voice.
For a brief moment, Isamu hesitated.
Should I have come here today…?
Seeing that Isamu didn't respond, the other nine White Zetsu turned to look at him. Normally, their leader handled all reports—while they were just followers.
"Why are you silent? Did you not hear my question?" Madara's tone sharpened.
Isamu snapped out of his thoughts.
Old or not… you are still Uchiha Madara.
And there are things I must do today.
His gaze hardened.
Still receiving no answer, Madara frowned.
"A defective product is still defective. You cannot even speak… how troublesome."
In that instant—
Isamu's right hand transformed into a wooden spike.
"You old geezer—take this!"
He lunged forward and attacked.
Madara's eyes flashed as he immediately caught the spike mid-strike.
"Have you gone mad? You dare attack me?"
Isamu's left hand morphed into another spike and struck again.
"I'm attacking you! Take this!"
Madara grabbed the second strike as well and kicked Isamu away.
"Impudent! Do you have a death wish? Do you think I would not kill you?"
The other White Zetsu stood frozen in shock.
What is going on? Since when was the leader this fearless?!
At that moment, the White Zetsu main body emerged from the ground, looking confused.
"Lord Madara… what is happening?"
This was the original White Zetsu—the one created from the flesh Madara had taken from Hashirama at the Valley of the End. All other White Zetsu were derived from it.
Madara snorted.
"Look at your clone. It dares to attack me. Completely outrageous."
The main body turned toward Isamu.
"What's wrong with you? Have you gone insane, attacking Lord Madara?"
Isamu steadied himself after sliding back from the kick.
He ignored the question.
And simply stared at Madara—cold, unwavering, and full of intent.