Emiya Shihara.
The name alone resonated with legend. In the entire ninja world, he was revered as the greatest medical ninja, a sage of unparalleled skill.
Uchiha Madara, despite his immense power, had never been fond of medical ninjas. To him, healing techniques seemed trivial compared to the raw force of battle. Yet even Madara could not ignore the weight of this name, for it stirred echoes of his past—a past intertwined with his childhood friend, Hashirama Senju.
"Madara!"
"You've heard the story of Emiya Shihara, haven't you?"
"His feats have been passed down in our clan for generations!"
"Since childhood, Hashirama has spoken of him endlessly!"
Madara's mind stirred as fragments of memory rose from the depths. Scenes of his youth flashed before his eyes: Hashirama recounting Shihara's deeds, speaking of the ninja way Shihara had left behind—enduring pain others could not bear, healing those who suffered, and striving to protect life itself.
Yet those were just memories now, fleeting and carried away by the wind. Madara almost forgot that Hashirama, in his own way, had once given up something crucial—something Shihara embodied.
Emiya Shihara was not merely a medical ninja. He was a sage of ancient times, skilled in traditional healing arts, whose talents surpassed any normal ninja's comprehension. Even Konoha had kept his existence secret, for it was likely that Tobirama Senju, ever obsessed with mastering forbidden techniques, had resurrected him—a sage of unmatched healing power.
Madara's lips curled in faint understanding. No shame came from having suffered losses at the hands of a man of such caliber. Knowing the other party was a legendary sage, revealing his own identity carried no disadvantage.
Yet the situation remained urgent: it was time for him to leave Konoha.
---
"Madara!"
A figure clad in red armor descended swiftly from above, a force of will and intent palpable in every step. Hashirama Senju, nearly fully armed despite lingering injuries, fixed his gaze on the towering Susanoo enveloping Madara. His expression was complex, a mixture of concern, anger, and determination.
Madara's eyes, tracing Hashirama's arrival, narrowed instinctively. This was the friend he had once killed with his own hands—now resurrected, yet before him again.
"Hashirama…" Madara's voice carried a trace of recognition and grudging respect.
Below, Emiya Shihara moved with calm precision. His presence was subtle, almost ethereal, yet Madara felt the weight of his power. He was not from Konoha, nor an enemy—more of a guest in the village, yet something about him struck an unease into Madara's heart.
Hashirama's gaze, while focused on Madara, flickered toward Shihara as well. Something familiar tugged at his memory. He could not place the man entirely—was he the doctor who had treated him today, or a kind stranger encountered elsewhere? Though Hashirama had not observed Shihara closely in the Konoha hospital, he knew he was an outsider brought in by Tobirama, someone worthy of the village's special accommodations.
"I…" Shihara began, stepping forward, intending to introduce himself.
"Go take shelter! Leave this to me!" Hashirama interjected, his tone firm yet composed, commanding without hesitation. His eyes returned to Madara, noting the peculiar change in one of his eyes—a grayish-white hue replacing its former gleam.
That eye had been functional in battle. How had it turned blind?
"Madara, your eye…" Hashirama asked, concern flickering across his features.
"No need to be curious," Madara said coldly.
"It's merely the price of surviving an encounter with you."
A dangerous calm settled over Madara as he clenched his fists. His face, previously composed, hardened into a mask of ferocity. He attempted to channel chakra into his Susanoo, his palms spreading and closing with practiced precision.
"I had planned to say a few words and leave quietly," Madara muttered, "but it seems matters have grown… troublesome."
Troublesome indeed. Hashirama Senju had returned, a thorn in Madara's side.
The Susanoo, though damaged, began repairing itself rapidly. Its azure form rose taller, glowing ominously over Konoha.
"Wood Release!" Hashirama's palms closed together, summoning massive vines that erupted from the ground, coiling around the Susanoo's arms with unstoppable force.
Madara's reaction was swift and precise. His giant sword of blue chakra materialized within the Susanoo's hand, slicing through the vines effortlessly.
Their battle rekindled with relentless intensity—an echo of a previous life-and-death encounter. Both were seasoned warriors, their injuries mere inconveniences compared to the stakes at hand.
"Hashirama…" Mito Uzumaki watched her husband with concern.
"You must restrain your chakra use now, or…"
"No," Hashirama responded firmly, voice resolute.
"Leave here first. I must stop him this time—once and for all."
Madara's voice, sharp and piercing, echoed across the battlefield:
"Are you implying you can kill me again?"
The moment he noticed Mito Uzumaki, his gaze sharpened, a flash of intensity crossing his features.
Hashirama's palms closed in a decisive motion. Vines erupted from the surrounding empty space, towering like colossal trees, wrapping around Madara's Susanoo. Every vine grew with unstoppable momentum, entangling the giant figure.
No matter the cost, he would not allow Madara to escape again. The thought of Konoha's destruction stirred a relentless determination within him.
---
Madara, unfazed by the surrounding chaos, traced a fingertip across his palm, drawing blood deliberately. His hand seals moved slowly, methodically, his voice calm yet cold.
"This… is unusual," Hashirama noted silently, frowning. He sensed the exhaustion mirrored in Madara, realizing that even with weakened Susanoo, there might be more at play.
Konoha's ninjas were arriving in numbers, though Hashirama had urged them to keep distance. Even so, in the battles of the Warring States Period, even the smallest assistance could tip the scales—just as his brother, Tobirama, might help.
Madara's lips curled into a sneer, a malicious gleam in his eye directed at Mito Uzumaki.
"What if it were the most vicious helper in the world?" he mused aloud.
A shiver ran down Hashirama and Mito's spines—they had sensed it. Yet, even in this tension, Madara's focus remained partly on Emiya Shihara.
"I have gained much today," Madara said, a ferocious smile playing across his features, "and there are still questions left unanswered. Perhaps, if fate allows, you may visit me again…"
Hashirama tensed, watching as Madara's hand finally fell, completing the hand seal.
"You wish to summon a spirit…" he whispered.
"Ninjutsu: Summoning Technique!" Madara's voice was as cold as steel.
With a thunderous motion, he slammed his palm onto the Susanoo. A colossal surge of smoke and air erupted, sweeping across Konoha. The force was overwhelming—many ninjas rushing to the scene were thrown to the ground, unable to resist the onslaught.
The village was engulfed in swirling smoke and violent wind. Amid the chaos, Madara's voice rang out:
"Stay here, and dance to your heart's content…"
"Nine-Tails!"
A colossal figure emerged through the smoke—a monstrous beast of immense power, its nine tails lashing violently. The most fearsome tailed beast in existence now roamed Konoha, unleashed by the legendary Uchiha.
As the dust settled, a sense of familiarity gripped those who watched—the memories of the past, the echo of the first and fourth generations, lingered like a haunting prelude.
The stage was set. The battle for Konoha, for survival, for legacy itself, had escalated to heights unseen.
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