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There's a hunger inside me, a hunger I can't satisfy.
It's strange, I don't need to eat anymore. This old body of mine (which underwent a major transformation, which I'm still learning to understand again) always sends me strange signals.
I don't function like I used to. Something inside me has changed.
I was saved from death, but my old flesh was too damaged. Madara did the best he could with his dubious medical skills and his strange, unethical medicine.
He repaired the damage that should have been permanent – he gave me a new, functional arm, a new leg, new ribs, and even some organs.
(Nothing could have been done about my face. Or so he told me. Vanity, such an insignificant thing compared to what was replaced, repaired. Improved.)
The old man left me whole, yes. Not beautiful, but functional. He even improved me on a deeper level – more genetically. It made me stronger, almost indestructible.
Who would have thought all that strange white goo was so versatile?
(Be grateful, they said.)
I am grateful. (Sometimes.) Where else could I find such a medical miracle?
(Konoha? Hahaha, don't make me laugh.)
I just need to ignore the freaky things that happen to me from time to time. (The itching that demands sunlight, the strange rippling of Mokuton under my skin that makes little green things sprout. The tips of my toes that ache from digging deep into the earth.)
Did Senju Hashirama ever experience things like this too? (Was he that weird?)
Did he crave strange things?
Could he hear the gentle whispers of the trees in the breeze?
Did he hate the winter season?
Did he love the morning dew?
Did he feel trapped inside his own skin like I did?
My body had been enhanced beyond common recognition, and I needed nothing more than constant training. I no longer need to eat every day, nor sleep, nor defecate, nor rest.
I even did a test, out of pure morbid curiosity, and discovered that I can go hours without breathing.
Another test proved to me that I could go without drinking water for long periods, but that afterwards, to replenish myself and get rid of my withered and weak fingers, I would need to drink liters and liters of water.
It was strange. My eccentricity was useful, yes, from a military tactical point of view, but it was still strange not to be... normal. (Like before.)
Zetsu says I should stop thinking about it so much. After all, what's the problem? There are no problems. There's nothing wrong with me. I function normally. (Like them. By their standards. Wasn't that good?)
And they were right, in a way. I shouldn't worry about nonsense. I'm stronger now. Better than before. All the weaknesses and vulnerabilities I had before are gone. It was better this way.
The stronger and more freakish, the better. The plan demanded it: someone capable of controlling the Ten-Tails. So I move forward. Relentless, unstoppable. With absolute focus on the plan.
But every now and then, that insatiable hunger always returns.
I usually ignore it. But sometimes I give in.
But even when I give in, in nostalgic remembrance of the old days of childhood (better and brighter times), even if I eat foods I once enjoyed, the hunger doesn't go away. Not completely. It only lessens a little, but inside something old and primal desires something else.
It gets worse when Zetsu feeds near me.
The creature doesn't care about good manners and chews and swallows extremely loudly. It's disgusting, but I don't feel nauseous or repulsed as I should.
The creature also likes to be obscenely graphic about its favorite parts – meat. I like the meatiest parts. Soft organs are also very tasty. Hands and feet are bad, just bones.
The smell rising is… something I should avoid, as it only makes the hunger worse.
I move away from the corpse before temptation turns to surrender.
I let Zetsu and Guruguru finish the cleanup; they do it with the simple joy of a humanoid plant that has found fresh dung.
I occupy my mind with bigger things: maps, stamps, training, the great moon that will one day swallow the world.
I press on through the dense forest that vibrates with life and energy all around me. The plan continues. But inside me, the roots grow, hungry for more. Begging. Trembling. And I wonder how long until I can no longer ignore what they truly want.