Uchiha Madara was absolutely losing it.
The game "Fruit Shinobi" had brought him great satisfaction. It reminded him of the joy of his youth, allowing him to dance and fight freely, showing off all his power—everything except his original pair of eyes.
However, in this age where ocular prowess was paramount, those who relied on contact lenses—like chakra-enhanced eyes—gained 70% of their strength from them. Many techniques could only be used with those eyes equipped.
For example, Kakashi Hatake relied on the power of the Sharingan to properly wield his self-created Lightning Style: Chidori.
Now, Lord Madara was facing a similar issue.
His experience playing "Fruit Shinobi" had gone through several psychological stages:
"Hahaha, youth is wonderful!" → "Dance for me, you trash!" → "Good! This is fun! You beast!" → "Hmph, not bad, monster." → "Tch, failed again... I admit it, you're second only to Hashirama." → "Damn it, if only I had my Rinnegan..." → "You beast, die already!" → "Heh heh heh... AAAAAARGH!"
After dozens of failed attempts, even the proud Uchiha Madara had reached his limit.
It was like the players struggling to beat the Great Sage's remnant form in "Black Myth: Wukong"—they were in awe at first, impressed by the power of the Great Sage. But after dozens of defeats, they snapped and cursed, "Damn you, Bima Wen, why won't you just die?!"
Though Madara's path was different, the emotional trajectory was nearly identical.
Especially whenever he failed and the little brat's voice would chime in to taunt him with phrases like, "Is that all?" "Trash, trash," or "Haha! You'll never beat me, you little loser!"
Even knowing it was fake, how could someone like Madara endure such mockery?
Madara might have been a grand tactician, but he was still an old man nearing the grave. Rigid thinking was inevitable.
That's why, after repeated failures and taunts, he genuinely began to believe the brat in the game was real—and being ridiculed by someone too cowardly to even show their face drove him up the wall.
His mindset shattered completely.
Now furious, Madara just wanted to log into the game and use his true power to beat that insufferable brat into the ground.
"Black Zetsu!"
He let out a low roar.
And then, emerging from underground via a White Zetsu body merged into Yin-Yang, Black Zetsu appeared.
"Lord Madara, what are your orders?"
Madara: "How's Nagato?"
Black Zetsu: "Still the same. He's receiving tutelage from Jiraiya of the Legendary Sannin. But our intel suggests the Leaf plans to recall Jiraiya soon. So Nagato and his two teammates' training period may be coming to an end."
Madara: "Good. Go retrieve my Rinnegan. I must give that brat in the game a proper lesson!"
Black Zetsu: "...Huh?"
At that moment, the ancient schemer who had pulled strings in the shinobi world for over a millennium was completely dumbfounded.
What did he mean, retrieve the Rinnegan? And what was this about a brat? Who needed disciplining?
Why did Madara sound like he was having a full-blown mental breakdown?
Still reeling from keeping tabs on Nagato and the Rinnegan, Black Zetsu was utterly confused.
Meanwhile, White Zetsu—Tobi—twisted around and said, "Whoa! Madara-sama is mad! Super mad! Looks like he failed again. Poor guy, so many illusion game scrolls wasted."
"Tragic, tragic... But I'm super curious too! Why can't we White Zetsu play the genjutsu games? So unfair! I want to play too!"
Madara stared at Tobi expressionlessly, his eyes twitching and murderous intent barely concealed.
Black Zetsu looked from Madara to Tobi, even more confused.
He knew about the genjutsu game. He knew Madara was playing it.
But he didn't know that Madara had gotten so addicted he now wanted to retrieve the Rinnegan just to beat a brat in a game.
What kind of joke was this?! This would ruin years of planning!
Madara, what happened to you? Are you senile?! Are you abandoning the Eye of the Moon Plan?!
If Madara gave up now, how could Black Zetsu save his mother?
No way. Absolutely not!
Immediately, Black Zetsu began trying to talk sense into the overheating Madara. He urged him to calm down and not act on impulse. The mission had to come first.
Fortunately, Madara eventually calmed down. Though his mental defenses had crumbled and he desperately wanted revenge, the weight of the Eye of the Moon Plan and decades of ideals won out.
Still, he made a mental note:
"Damn it... I'll remember this grudge."
Madara waved dismissively, unwilling to hear more of Tobi's blood-pressure-spiking babble, and ordered him to return to the Leaf to "restock."
Then, after a moment of thought, he turned to Black Zetsu:
"Black Zetsu, is there anyone in the Uchiha Clan right now with Mangekyō Sharingan—or the potential to awaken it?"
Black Zetsu assumed Madara was trying to find a candidate to advance the Eye of the Moon Plan, and answered eagerly:
"Lord Madara, our intel shows that thanks to the genjutsu games, many Uchiha have awakened their Sharingan, and quite a few have even advanced it."
"If this continues, the Uchiha Clan may soon have the highest number of Mangekyō Sharingan users since the Warring States Era. Even the current young clan head, Fugaku Uchiha, has high potential."
Madara nodded solemnly: "Good. Send more White Zetsu to monitor the village. If the chance arises, steal a pair of Mangekyō Sharingan for me."
"Hmph. With a Mangekyō Sharingan, I refuse to believe I still can't beat that brat in the game!"
Black Zetsu: "...?"
Everyone was shocked again.
Did Madara realize what nonsense he was spouting?
Steal Mangekyō Sharingan—to play a game?
Was this a joke?
Right now, Black Zetsu felt like a supercomputer built with billions—only to be used for Minesweeper.
Uchiha Madara had truly become a full-blown gaming-addicted old man.
If Black Zetsu had a heart, it would've stopped right then. His mind was filled with dread: Was Madara truly senile? Was his lifelong plan to revive his mother about to fail?
No! This can't happen!
He had to restore Madara's sanity!
That's right—Madara's downfall started with the genjutsu game. He had to eliminate it.
Damn that cursed game! It was a menace!
As that thought burned in his mind, Black Zetsu's hatred for the game and its creator reached a boiling point. He wanted nothing more than to see the creator drop dead—like a concerned parent blaming games for corrupting their child.
He excused himself, saying he was off to execute Madara's orders. But what he actually intended to do… remained his own secret.
Madara, trusting that Black Zetsu was his own will incarnate, never suspected a thing.
Once alone, he closed his eyes, seemingly going into slumber.
But in truth, he was thinking.
Not about conquering the game—but about its creator.
"Uchiha Kei..."
Madara opened his aged eyes and spoke the name with appreciation.
"Genjutsu games... Perhaps, once I cast Infinite Tsukuyomi, the world I create will be something like the one he's made."
"He truly pleases me. Who would've thought someone like him could emerge from the Uchiha Clan—a junior worthy of admiration."
"If it's him, I believe he can understand the beauty of Infinite Tsukuyomi... and perhaps even help me bring it to life."
"And with the genjutsu game already spreading through the shinobi world, if he joins the Eye of the Moon Plan, I wouldn't even need to wait another decade."
Muttering to himself, Madara was filled with expectation.
It was the eagerness of someone awaiting a meeting. A glimmer of hope that a lifelong plan was finally close to fruition.
But Madara's aged body made moving difficult. And ordinary Sharingan wouldn't be enough to ensure his safety.
He didn't fear death—but he feared dying before seeing his dream realized.
So he needed stronger eyes. Only with them could he absorb as much life force from the White Zetsu—and Hashirama's cells—as possible.
Only then could he leave the life-support system without his body collapsing.
That was the true reason Madara wanted his eyes back. Why he sought Mangekyō Sharingan.
The game defeats were a breaking point—but not enough to make him abandon decades of planning.
The real reason… was that he had found a nearly perfect successor. Someone who understood his ideals.
And for such a successor, Madara was willing to adjust his plans.