Legacy Reborn (Sasuke x RWBY Sequel)

1 - Fate

Madara Uchiha lay on the cold, battle-torn ground, the weight of defeat pressing heavily on his chest. Blood dripped from his wounds, and the once-mighty figure who had sought to reshape the world now seemed diminished, a shadow of the legend he once was. His body felt numb, but the sting of betrayal was sharper than any pain his body could feel.

As his vision blurred, Madara’s mind raced, consumed by bitter thoughts.

'I failed…'

He had spent decades planning, manipulating, and sacrificing everything for his vision of peace. A world free of endless conflict, where the cycle of hatred would finally end. Yet, in the end, all his efforts had crumbled into nothing.

'Was it all for nothing?' His fingers twitched weakly against the earth, trying to grasp for something—anything—that would make it feel worthwhile. But there was nothing.

"I wanted peace," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the distant echoes of battle. His Sharingan flickered as he stared up at the darkened sky. "I wanted to free this world… from pain."

But peace had never come. His grand plan, the Infinite Tsukuyomi, was supposed to create a dream world where everyone could live in harmony. No wars, no suffering. A perfect world. But even that had been torn from his grasp.

'Black Zetsu... that cursed wretch...'

He had been a puppet all along. His pride, his ambition, his legacy—they had been nothing more than tools in a scheme far older and far crueler than he could have imagined. Kaguya had used him, through Black Zetsu, all to further her own agenda.

'In the end… I wasn’t even the one in control.'

The irony burned deep. For all his power, for all his genius, Madara had been manipulated. He had always believed himself to be the master of his own destiny, the one who would bring true peace. And yet, he had merely been a pawn in a far greater game.

He clenched his teeth, a surge of anger flaring within him, only to fade into a hollow emptiness.

'Hashirama…' His mind drifted to his old friend, his rival, the man with whom he had shared a dream of peace. The peace they had once envisioned together. 'You were right… after all.'

The weight of that admission felt heavier than his injuries. Hashirama had chosen to trust in people, to believe that peace could come from unity, not control. Madara had dismissed that as naive, convinced that only he could create a world without war. But now, at the end of his path, he could see how wrong he had been.

"I failed you, too, Hashirama. I failed... everyone."

His breathing slowed, the world around him dimming. He had been so consumed by his vision that he lost sight of everything else. His pride, his arrogance—those had blinded him to the truth.

‘What a fool I was…’

Madara’s vision blurred, the world around him dimming as his body betrayed him, inching closer to death. His mind, however, still raced. Memories of battles, bloodshed, alliances, betrayals—all swirling in the haze of his thoughts. He had been so certain, so resolute in his vision of peace. But now, as he lay there, the weight of his failure bore down on him like a suffocating darkness.

The sound of footsteps echoed faintly in the distance, growing louder as they neared. Madara forced his eyes to focus, and there, through the mist of his fading sight, he saw a figure approaching. A figure he knew all too well.

It was Hashirama.

"Is that you... Hashirama?" Madara's voice cracked, the strength that once commanded armies reduced to a weak whisper.