Madara Uchiha vs Shogo Uzumaki, Edge of the Sea
He was Madara Uchiha—the mightiest of his clan, past or future. There was no equal. Yet that girl… that girl had awakened something only Hashirama Senju had stirred within him. And still… she hadn't come to fight.
She had sent someone else. Someone she had summoned here by her own power.
Madara saw it with his Rinnegan. Whatever technique she had used, it was not something he could replicate. What she did went far beyond the simple manipulation of chakra.
Standing before him was a man—perhaps in his fifties or sixties—with crimson hair so vivid it could only belong to an Uzumaki. His robes were those of a traditional kenjutsu master from the clan. But it wasn't his appearance that intrigued Madara. It was his presence. Sharp. Sharper than anything he had ever encountered.
An edge.
"My name is Shogo Uzumaki," the man said, his voice deep and unwavering. "Some call me the Edge of the Sea."
He took a single step forward—and yet it felt like he had traversed miles. The blade he represented was already closer.
"I haven't heard that name before…" Madara mused, his voice calm, almost curious. "But your aura... Where did you come from, Shogo?"
Madara's hand instinctively reached for the hilt of his still-sheathed sword. He would show this man what true swordsmanship looked like.
Shogo tilted his head slightly, almost in amusement. "My era ended long ago. By the time you and your friend established the Hidden Villages… I had already faded from history for over five centuries. I wonder, has your clan's swordsmanship improved since then?"
Another step. The air itself seemed to ripple—as if the atmosphere were being sliced open. Chakra radiated from him, monstrous even by Uzumaki standards.
"I heard a legend of an Uzumaki capable of cutting the sky and the earth with his sword alone. We'll see if you live up to that edge," Madara said, his tone darkening. "But I'm far more interested in the one who brought you here."
The moment her name passed Madara's lips, Shogo's presence shifted.
The edge vanished.
Completely.
As if it had never existed.
A terrifying stillness took its place—one born of decades, perhaps centuries, of relentless refinement.
"Before you lay a hand on Hinata-sama," Shogo said softly, "you will have to defeat me."
Shogo blurred forward.
Madara responded instantly with a roaring Great Majestic Fireball Jutsu, a sea of flame erupting toward his opponent.
But the old Uzumaki cut through it.
In a single stroke, the wave of fire split in two, allowing Shogo to pass untouched between the blazing halves.
He arrived at Madara's side in a blink, his sword already in motion.
Madara drew his blade to meet him—steel clashing against steel—
—and he smiled.
Let the battle begin.
The sound of steel meeting steel rang out—clean and absolute. Shogo's katana didn't just block Madara's sword; it redirected it, as if his blade had read the attack's intent before it had even formed.
"Interesting…" Madara murmured, then pushed off with force, creating distance between them. "Your reflexes are sharp… even for an Uzumaki."
Shogo offered no reply. There was no hatred in his eyes, no fury—only something far more dangerous: absolute focus. It reminded Madara of Hashirama, in those rare moments when his will to protect outweighed even his compassion.
Chakra began swirling behind Shogo, revealing something unexpected: floating seals, etched in spiraling formation, orbiting his body like petals held aloft in gravity's defiance.
"Are you using fūinjutsu as armor?" Madara asked, his curiosity genuine.
"This isn't armor. It's containment," Shogo answered with calm clarity. "What my blade cuts is not flesh… It's chakra. And if I must stop the monster who shaped generations of war, then I will release the edge in full."
Madara clicked his tongue.
Wood clones erupted from the ground, racing toward Shogo from all angles.
The air trembled.
A single flash of steel cut through the battlefield, and every clone was undone in an instant. Madara hadn't seen the strike. He only felt the murderous intent of Shogo's blade splitting the world.
"So… your edge really can cut the sky," Madara muttered. He activated his partial Susanoo, the skeletal blue form rising behind him. Rinnegan energy surged into his hands. "Let's see if it can reach the gods."
Shogo sank lower into his stance. Behind him, the legendary golden Uzumaki chains unfurled—vibrating with latent power, like serpents ready to strike. His eyes narrowed—not reading Madara's stance, but predicting it.
They charged at the same time. Steel against pure chakra. Will against destiny.
And thus began a dance where every strike could shift the course of history, and each moment stretched into eternity.
<<<< o >>>>
After defeating Shisui, I kept moving.
More Edo Tensei came at me, but none could endure the searing judgment of Amaterasu. My solidified black flames cut across the battlefield, swords forged of eternal fire skewering reanimated shinobi with brutal finality. Only my desire to preserve chakra kept me from unleashing more.
Then they began to vanish. One by one. The Edo Tensei dissolving into dust. Zetsu bodies retreating underground.
The Graveyard Mountain battlefield was changing.
Water coursed beneath rusted katanas in places, frozen solid in others. Some corpses remained encased in ice, others had evaporated into steam. Where once blades lay dulled and corroded, now they shimmered—polished by the heat and chaos.
At the center of it all stood a man I recognized: Aoi, of the Deep Waters.
He turned first. "You did well with that boy. I felt Hinata-sama's current stir when she saw him."
I nodded. "It was something that needed to be resolved within the Uchiha. Seems you handled the rest just fine."
"This terrain gave me a devastating advantage," he said without ego, as if describing a natural phenomenon. Looking around the field, I couldn't deny it.
Off in the distance, a Susanoo battled beneath the waters—facing off against a humanoid shark. Kuro and a blond man sat nearby, spectating as if watching a play.
Then came Jiro, Dust of Death, flying in with theatrical flair. "Oi, Aoi, that kid didn't know a damn thing. I can't believe my techniques were wasted like that—first that Onoki brat, and now—"
He noticed me.
"Hey, who's your friend?"
Ro Kaguya, the Blood Fest, arrived next, his Byakugan gleaming. "Jiro, stop harassing the newcomers. People might think we're all like you."
Jiro shrugged. "Not my fault. So, how'd your fight go? Lose to the Third Raikage like you did with the Fourth?"
Ro answered plainly, "Disappointing. The Fourth is leagues beyond the Third. He actually managed to defeat me. The Third… just had brute power. I got bored of destroying him over and over until the summoning broke."
Then Kyo Senju, the Reflection of Death, landed beside us. "That Mizukage was a worthy opponent. Kept me sharp until the end. Anyone know how Shogo's doing?"
Aoi only lifted his chin, eyes fixed on the distance—where massive vines rose into the air, only to be cleaved in half. "Still fighting… but I doubt we'll learn more while that battle's ongoing."
Ro broke focus from her observations. "It's a hell of a match. No wonder they had Shogo assigned to Hinata-sama. Wait… looks like she's re-emerging from the Kamui dimension. And she's got the masked Uchiha with her."
I turned instantly. "Where?"
Ro didn't answer. He simply pointed.
I didn't wait. I launched myself in that direction at full speed.
<<<< o >>>>
Hinata emerged from the Kamui Space alongside Obito, silver threads unraveling from her fingers as she carefully carried the unconscious bodies of Takama Gin, Hiashi Hyūga, and Killer B.
The battlefield stretched before them—snow transformed into countless spears of ice and water flowing over rusted katanas. Countless Zetsu corpses remained impaled across the field. In the distance, I could feel five familiar presences in conversation, and farther beyond, Kuro and Deidara watched as Ryusei clashed with Kisame. At the farthest edge, Madara continued his duel with Shogo, their battle reshaping the very air around them.
And then… I felt Sasuke coming toward me.
Reaching into my kimono, I produced a small sealed jar—the Rinnegan eyes—and handed them to Obito.
"You want war to capture the Nine-Tails," I said calmly. "I'm offering to get you the Nine-Tails. I want to help you complete your plan."
Obito's eyes narrowed, disbelief thick in his voice. "After what I've seen today? I could never trust you." He looked across the scorched terrain, toward where great trees rose and fell—toward Shogo's clash with Madara.
"You don't have to trust me," I replied. "But it's the truth. You'll believe me when I show up to the meeting… with the Nine-Tails. Just tell Madara that. All I ask is for the war to be delayed a few more days."
To speak of war so lightly tore at me—but I had learned to mask such truths beneath diplomacy.
Obito stared at me a moment longer, then disappeared into Kamui without another word.
Sasuke arrived moments later.
"Hinata, are you alright?" he asked, urgency in his voice.
I smiled gently. "I'm fine, Sasuke-kun. But we should leave… before Madara realizes I'm not here to fight him. Not yet."
I bit my thumb and slammed my hand to the ground. "Summoning Jutsu!"
In a burst of smoke, Mitsue and Kuro appeared at my side.
"Kuro," I said quickly, "It's time to go—full speed. Ready?"
Shadows surged as Kuro expanded in size, large enough to carry Sasuke, me, and our unconscious allies with ease.
"Climb on," Kuro growled. "We're getting out of here before anyone notices."
Mitsue glanced down at the bundle Kuro was carrying. "Kuro… whose bag of clay is thissss?"
A scream echoed from afar.
"THAT'S MY CLAY, YOU THIEVING BEAST!!"
Deidara.
We rode away atop Kuro's silky black fur, fading from the Graveyard Mountain before the battlefield caught up to us again.