The Ghost Of Vale; Always The Same

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It was 8 AM when Madara finally found the strength to get out of bed, the rising sun chasing away the betraying moon. The Ghost of the Uchiha got out of bed, relishing in his lack of a need for sleep because of the cells of Hashirama.

'Perhaps I should go to sleep. If I'm lucky, maybe I'll pass on.'

Checking the time, Madara knew that class would be beginning soon. With a clap of his hands, his wooden clone emerged, a picture perfect copy of the damned Uchiha.

"Attend my classes for me. Do not call attention to yourself." Madara explained harshly, to which the clone gave a curt nod. The shinobi would only attend the combat classes, and those were not held the first day, meaning that he had no reason to attend classes today. With that, Madara let himself relax (at least, as much as he could when he should be burning in hell). The shinobi let himself glance out the window, his Sharingan letting him see the city of Vale in the distance.

"I will be using my time in a much wiser way."

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Madara stalked the city with peeled eyes, sage senses in full swing. He was aware of the location of every person on the continent, but Madara would take no less. He would never be caught unaware again. The shinobi could feel the people's aura much more clearly than before. He assumed that was because he now had his own, speaking of which...

The foreign energy coated his body at all times, feeling like the caress of his own soul. He akinned it to being wrapped up in a mini-susanoo. The comparison he had made with Six Paths chakra was only his concept, an expression of one's spiritual energy in physical form. And while he seriously doubted he could even hold a candle to his old self, he could still feel a massive increase in power.

But Madara put those thoughts aside, instead resolving to inspect the city of Vale. He looked at the city dwellers, noting the disproportionate amount of humans to faunus. Most likely because of such "niceties" like the anti-faunus signs on the windows of almost every business in the city. He knew Vale wasn't the most racially unified of the four kingdoms, but to see it on such full display disgusted him.

Back in his world, appearance hadn't mattered a bit. Strength was all that you were judged on, and Madara thinks he preferred that. After all, at least you could have control over how strong you could become.

As the hours ticked by, Madara mostly watched the people walk by, occasionally walking into one of the many shops or stores. The sun rose higher and higher until it reached its crescendo, before beginning its decline into the night. The Ghost of the Uchiha sighed, before a particular shop caught his eyes.

'Argenta's Forge, huh? I suppose that I have been meaning to get some of my weapons back, with perhaps a sprinkle of this world's technology thrown in. I doubt they make Gunbai though.'

With that thought in mind, Madara walked into the armory, relishing in the smell of iron and ash. It was warm, both literally and figuratively. The heat from the casting permeated throughout the building, yet the several pictures and homey environment were an interesting combination.

"Ah, finally! I haven't seen a customer all day!"

Madara's eyes snapped forward, locking with those of the woman running the place. She had rich, tan skin and dark black hair that went down to her shoulders, and looked to be in her early thirties. Her eyes were a sparkling jade and she wore a leather get up suitable for a blacksmith. She stood out to Madara because of her scar, a deep line going across her left cheek. She had a grin on her face, greeting the shinobi.

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