With both pairs of eyes locked, the air between them grew suffocating. The light pitter-patter of droplets turned into a violent downpour, yet neither man blinked. The world seemed to shrink until only their heavy, serious gazes remained.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Yoichi replied. His voice was casual, but his body was a coiled spring, his stance perfectly balanced.
"Nonetheless," Yoichi added, his eyes narrowing through the rain. "I wonder why you are still alive?"
While he appeared composed, Yoichi's mind was in a state of shock. From everything he had gathered, only Mito and the Senju brothers were the students of that mysterious teacher.
It can't be right... Yoichi thought, his focus remaining absolute. Madara was part of that circle too? How did they end up on such different paths?
The situation felt like the cold hand of fate.
It seemed their former teacher hadn't just altered the timeline; he had planted seeds that were only now beginning to bloom in the most chaotic way possible.
Across from him, Madara's expression twisted.
He had emerged from his damp, soul-crushing cave after hearing reports of an Uchiha brat circulating Martial Arts. The news had sparked a flicker of nostalgia and a burning curiosity.
Those methods were his Sensei's forte—an approach to power that had been buried by the world, overshadowed by the raw, overwhelming strength of Hashirama and himself.
Black Zetsu had whispered for him to remain calm, to stay in the shadows, but Madara's will was an indomitable mountain. He had to see for himself.
"Don't change the subject, brat!" Madara barked, his voice cutting through the thunder.
His aura flared, the purple ripples of his Rinnegan pulsing with a terrifying light.
"That face, those earrings... you are the spitting image of the man who taught me how to move," Madara growled, stepping forward.
"Answer me! Who gave you those techniques? Where did you learn to move in such a fashion?!"
"It doesn't matter who gave them to me," Yoichi said, his voice cutting through the heavy rain. "In this world, techniques belong to the one who can master them. Why should it concern a ghost like you?"
He shifted his weight, the mud beneath his boots yielding but his balance remaining perfect. The Heavenly Demon Qi continued to swirl around his feet, pushing back the oppressive pressure Madara radiated.
"You're an Uchiha," Madara spat, his eyes tracing the flow of energy around Yoichi. "Yet you use a power that feels like a mountain, unbreakable. You use his rhythm, his flow. These techniques was supposed to die with him."
"Then consider me a living reminder," Yoichi replied coldly. "I am Yoichi of the Uchiha, and I don't answer to the shadows of the past. If you want to know more, you'll have to stop me from reaching my destination."
Madara's lip curled into a thin, dangerous smile. "Insistent. Arrogant. Just like him."
The elder Uchiha's hand shifted toward the hilt of the blade at his back. "If you truly possess his techniques, then you should know that words are the weakest form of communication. Let's see if your body is as loud as your mouth."
The two figures clashed with a violence that turned the earth into a slurry of mud and stone.
Madara's strikes were cold and calculated, aimed with the precision of a man who had fought a thousand wars.
Yet, Yoichi's Martial Arts functioned like a crushing tide; he redirected the legend's force with fluid rotations, meeting bone-breaking pressure with the relentless weight of his mysterious energy.
As the exchanges grew faster, the momentum shifted. Yoichi's footwork was superior, his rhythm forcing the elder Uchiha back, step by agonizing step. Madara's boots dragged through the muck, his eyes narrowing as he found his physical prowess being systematically dismantled.
"Impressive," Madara hissed, his hands weaving signs with a speed that blurred the air.
Fire Release: Great Fire Annihilation!
An enormous wall of roaring flame erupted.
The heat was so intense it instantly vaporized the rain, creating a blinding shroud of steam. Yoichi didn't flinch. He drew his right fist back, his Qi densifying until his knuckles glowed with a dark, obsidian light.
Mountain Crushing Fist!
He punched to part the sea of fire, but his strike hit an invisible barrier. Two intangible hands caught his fist in mid-air, halting his momentum.
However, Yoichi didn't just stop.
The two Limbo constructs tanked the full force of the Mountain Crushing Fist, their invisible frames absorbing the impact. Even for beings in another dimension, the raw volume of Yoichi's Qi was too much to remain stationary; the shockwave sent both constructs flying backward through the air, clearing his path for a split second.
Madara's smile didn't waver as the fire finally engulfed the space. Using Phantom Steps, Yoichi flickered through the inferno, retreating dozens of yards until he landed on the branch of a charred tree. His sleeves had been reduced to ash, and the skin of his forearms was scorched and blackened.
He looked down with a deep frown. Slowly, his passive healing stacks began to itch. The blackened flesh started to knit back together, pushing out the burnt tissue as the internal energy restored his body.
Madara watched the boy's burns heal with unnatural speed, his Rinnegan glowing with a predatory interest. The rate of recovery was far beyond the natural vitality of a normal Uchiha or even a Senju. It was an active, aggressive restoration that defied the medical logic he knew.
"You retreated the moment you felt them. You truly have his instinct for battle," Madara noted, his voice carrying through the hiss of steam. "And that recovery... it isn't Ninjutsu. It's as if your very cells refuse to accept defeat. You are a curious existence, brat."
This feeling... Yoichi's mind raced, his heightened perception tracking the two shadows as they stabilized near Madara.
Limbo, he realized.
I can sense them through the Aperture, but they exist in a different world. Even if my punch sent them flying, they aren't actually hurt. Physical strength alone won't be enough.
He tightened his jaw, locking onto the legendary Uchiha.
I need to shake away these two troublesome clones if I'm going to get a clean shot at him.
The presence of the two invisible ghosts shifted the air. One moment, Madara stood alone; the next, the rain began to displace in three different directions. The battle once again turned into a hand-to-hand exchange, but this time, the weight of another two combatants was firmly in Madara's favor.
At this point, Yoichi was slowly getting pushed back. He was being beaten from all sides, forced into a frantic defensive rhythm. Every time he countered Madara, an invisible strike from a different angle would clip his jaw or ribs.
Finding a momentary gap, Yoichi lunged. He thrust both hands out, aiming a Malevolent Palm at the two distortions he sensed closing in. The dark, viscous Qi erupted from his palms, aimed at the space where the Limbo constructs loomed.
The strike met resistance, but it left his center wide open.
"Too slow," Madara's voice cut through the rain.
He lunged, his leg snapping out in a brutal kick aimed directly at Yoichi's guts. The speed was blinding, the force enough to shatter a boulder.
Yoichi reacted by instinct. He abandoned his offensive, pulling his hands back down to catch the strike. His palms slammed against Madara's shin, the impact sending a dull, bone-deep ache through his arms.
The sheer force of the blow was overwhelming.
Yoichi didn't fly back; instead, he was driven backward with his feet still on the ground. His boots plowed through the muddy earth, carving two deep trenches in the muck as he skidded nearly ten meters back.
He came to a halt, his chest heaving slightly as the Heavenly Demon Qi surged to stabilize his internal organs.
The pressure was suffocating.
Madara stood amidst the rain, his arms crossed, while the two invisible shadows repositioned themselves on either side of him.
Recognizing the dire shift in momentum, Yoichi reached into his Space Pouch.
In a blur of motion, he drew a sleek, dark blade. He dropped his center, his feet digging into the sludge as he settled into a focused sword-drawing stance.
The air around him didn't just grow heavy; it grew sharp.
He was preparing Severance, a single-strike technique he had spent years perfecting in the solitude of Mount Myōboku.
As he held the pose, the natural energy of the land began to scream. It was sucked greedily into his meridians, flowing and merging with his Heavenly Demon Qi.
Madara watched the boy, a condescending smirk playing on his lips. "A sword? You think a piece of metal will change the outcome of this—"
The words died in his throat.
Madara's Rinnegan widened as the atmospheric pressure shifted violently.
The rain around the blade didn't just fall; it was sliced into mist before it could even touch the steel.
"Inherited or not," Madara growled, his voice dropping an octave, "show me the edge of your conviction!"
Severance!
A horizontal flash of obsidian light tore through the downpour. The two Limbo constructs moved to intercept the blow with their intangible bodies. But this time, the Qi was infused with the raw, primordial power of natural energy.
The blade didn't hit a wall. It cut.
The two shadows were instantly split in half, their very existence denied as the technique bypassed the dimensional barrier. They vanished into nothingness, but the slash didn't stop. It continued with terrifying momentum toward the legend himself.
"Imposed insolence!" Madara roared, his composure finally shattering. He thrust his hand forward, pouring every ounce of his remaining strength into his eyes.
Shinra Tensei!
A massive wave of repulsive force erupted, clashing with the obsidian strike. The two powers met with an ear-splitting screech, the ground between them vaporizing into a deep crater.
The intensity was blinding; the repulsion tried to push the world away, but the Severance was designed to cut through anything that dared to stand.
Slowly, the black slash began to fracture the repulsive shell. It broke through the invisible wall of force, the tip of the energy aiming directly for Madara's throat.
It sailed forward, missing his neck by a hair's breadth before it finally dissipated into the rainy sky.
The forest fell silent. Madara stood still, unharmed, but his face had gone deathly pale. Without the Gedo Statue to act as his battery, and hampered by his decaying vitality, his breath came in ragged gasps.
"To think..." Madara panted, his body trembling as he clutched his chest. "To think a brat in this era could force me to my absolute limit."
He began to chuckle, a low sound that grew into a boisterous, heartfelt laugh. "Ha! Hahaha! Truly! This world still has some fire left in it!"
On the other side of the crater, Yoichi's legs gave out. His butt slumped into the mud with a wet thud, his lungs burning. He let out a breathless laugh of his own.
"You're... you're a real monster, old man," Yoichi wheezed, wiping mud from his face. "I thought I was the one at the top."
Madara looked at him, eyes shining with a rare, bloody respect. "Don't be arrogant, boy. In my prime, that slash wouldn't have even touched my robes. But today... today you have entertained me."
Yoichi grinned despite the exhaustion. "Then I'll take that as a win for the 'brat'."
The laughter slowly died down, leaving only the sound of the heavy rain and the ragged breathing of two exhausted warriors.
Madara stood up straight, his hand resting on his knee as he regained his composure. He looked at Yoichi, and for a moment, the madness of the Rinnegan softened into something else—nostalgia.
In the boy's messy hair and defiant grin, he saw flickers of his sensei. In that stubborn refusal to stay down, he saw the ghost of Izuna.
Madara reached down and patted the mud from his pants, his movements slow but still carrying a trace of his former elegance.
"You have his hands," Madara said softly, his voice barely audible over the downpour. "And you have his talents. It is a good thing to see those techniques haven't been entirely erased by this mediocre world."
He turned his back to the crater, his tattered cloak fluttering. "But do not get comfortable, brat. I will fight you again, but not in this pathetic, decaying state. Next time, you will face the true power of the Uchiha."
Yoichi watched him from the mud, his Qi slowly stabilizing. "Is that an invitation or a threat, old man?"
Madara looked over his shoulder, his eyes cold and prophetic. "It is a warning. Hone those techniques. Refine that power. You will need every bit of it to prepare for the brand new world I will bring to the table. A world of eternal peace... or eternal silence."
He began to walk toward the treeline, his form flickering like a shadow.
"Madara!" Yoichi called out, his voice sharp and serious.
The legendary shinobi paused but didn't turn back.
"Watch your shadow," Yoichi warned, his Battle Instinct tingling as he caught a glimpse of a dark mass nearby. "Black Zetsu isn't as loyal as you think he is. Don't let the creature you created be the one to bury you."
Madara remained silent for a long beat. A low, mocking hum came from the darkness beside him, but the Uchiha simply stepped into the trees and vanished, leaving him alone in the weeping forest.
Yoichi sat in the silence of the rain, swallowing a True Qi Pill. The cooling energy surged through his meridians like a rushing river, patching his frayed core and replenishing his hollowed reserves.
I was too overconfident, he thought, his gaze fixed on the crater. Against the Rinnegan and the intangible Limbo, raw power was a blunt tool.
He needed more than just a strong body; he needed a mind that could cut through the illusions of reality.
He stood up, stripping off his charred rags and tossing them into the mud. From his Space Pouch, he pulled out a fresh, casual attire. As he tightened his belt, the exhaustion in his eyes vanished, replaced by a cold, sharpened determination.
The cold drizzle turned into a suffocating downpour as three scouts reached the edge of the crater.
Gas masks hid their expressions, but their postures were rigid as they surveyed the scorched earth left behind by the clash.
"Halt!" the lead scout barked, voice muffled. "You there! Explain this destruction. What did you do to the landscape? Answer, or we'll take you in for questioning!"
The man choked on his next breath.
The atmosphere warped, growing ten times heavier as a silent wave of Heavenly Demon Qi flared.
Raindrops curved around Yoichi's frame, forced aside by the density of a presence that felt more like a physical wall than a person.
His eyes remained fixed on the iron horizon, a countenance cold and immovable.
"You're in the way," a low voice vibrated through the thunder.
The scouts lunged, yet it felt like charging into a hurricane. Movement became a terrifying economy of motion. With an explosive burst of speed, Yoichi stepped through the center of the formation.
Two muffled cracks echoed as palms met chests.
The force caved in ribs and stopped hearts instantly. The third scout froze, breath hitching under the crushing weight of killing intent.
A casual flick of fingers sent a blade of Qi across the man's throat before a plea for mercy could escape.
Leaving the corpses to cool in the mud, Yoichi closed his eyes. Facial muscles twitched and shifted, bone structure groaning softly under the influence of Face Changing technique.
Within seconds, sharp Uchiha features vanished, replaced by the weathered, nondescript face of a wandering mercenary.
His aura retracted until he looked like nothing more than a ghost in the rain. Finding his friends required subtlety; in a den of vipers like Amegakure, a loud entrance was a foolish one.
The journey deeper into the mist began, footsteps silent toward the towering metal pipes of the city.
Just as the outskirts loomed, a discarded communication scroll caught his eye near a guard post—its seal was partially broken, glowing with a faint, ominous chakra that felt like a trap.
___________
Thank you for the Power Stones, Daemonic_Dragon!