BAM!
The heavy, serrated sword of the Senju Jonin never touched Madara’s head.
Instead, a dark, hooded figure slammed into the side of the falling Jonin with the physical force of a runaway boulder.
A blinding, glowing blue sphere of spinning chakra ground violently against the Jonin’s heavy chest armor, screaming like a trapped hurricane.
“What the—?!” the Jonin gasped, his eyes widening in pure shock as the air was forced from his lungs.
The spinning chakra drill ripped through the thick metal of his armor in less than a second.
With a deafening boom, the Jonin was blasted backward out of the air.
He flew across the muddy camp like a broken ragdoll, crashing violently into a stack of heavy wooden supply crates and sending sharp splinters flying everywhere in a cloud of dust.
Madara and Izuna stumbled back, raising their arms to shield their faces from the sudden shockwave of wind and chakra.
The dark figure landed smoothly on the muddy ground in front of them.
The person wore a dark cloak, hiding their face and armor.
The blue sphere in their hand vanished, leaving behind only a trail of hot white steam hissing in the cold night air.
Before the Uchiha brothers could even process what had just saved their lives, the hooded figure vanished again.
Whoosh!
Across the camp, one of the two Senju Elite Chunin was standing over a wounded Uchiha Genin, raising his kunai for the killing blow.
He didn’t even have time to blink.
The hooded figure appeared directly behind the Elite Chunin, moving with a speed that defied logic.
Without wasting a single movement, the figure drove a bare fist directly into the base of the Chunin’s neck, precisely where the armor didn’t cover.
A loud, sickening crack echoed through the silent camp.
The Senju Chunin’s eyes rolled back into his head, and he dropped to the mud, completely dead before his body even hit the floor.
Total silence fell over the battlefield.
The surviving Uchiha guards, the remaining Senju Chunin, Madara, and Izuna just stared at the mysterious savior.
He had just blasted away a veteran Jonin commander and instantly assassinated an Elite Chunin in less than three seconds.
Slowly, the figure stood up straight.
He reached up and pulled back the dark hood.
“S-Shinra-nii?!” Madara shouted, his voice cracking loudly in disbelief.
The nine-year-old prodigy dropped his kunai, his single-tomoe Sharingan spinning wildly as he stared at the boy standing in the mud.
Izuna’s jaw dropped completely open.
“Big brother!
But…
how?!” Shinra Uchiha turned his head, looking back at his two little brothers.
The dark, sickly bruises under his eyes from yesterday were completely gone.
His skin was glowing with healthy, vibrant energy.
He didn’t look like someone who had just woken up from a coma.
He looked like a god of war descending onto the battlefield.
But what shocked Madara the most were Shinra’s eyes.
Spinning lazily in his blood-red irises were three perfectly formed black tomoe.
“Sorry I’m late,” Shinra said smoothly, a confident, warm smile spreading across his face despite the blood and mud surrounding them.
“I had a chat with the elders.
They talk a lot.” “But…
but the medics!” Izuna stammered, gripping his small sword tightly, his young voice trembling with overwhelming relief.
“They said you were bleeding from your eyes!
They said your chakra pathways were destroyed!” “Don’t worry about what the medics say, Izuna,” Shinra replied, his voice calm, carrying a heavy, soothing authority.
“I have never felt better in my entire life.” As Shinra looked at his brothers, a strange, heavy feeling settled deep in his chest.
He saw the sheer relief, the fierce pride, and the absolute love shining in Madara’s visible eye.
He saw how seven-year-old Izuna looked at him like he was the strongest person in the entire world.
This was the famous Uchiha brotherly love.
In this brutal ninja world, no clan loved deeper or more fiercely than the Uchiha.
It was their greatest strength, but also their most terrible curse.
Because they loved so deeply, the pain of losing a brother could turn that pure love into endless, burning hatred.
I won’t let it happen, Shinra promised himself, his three-tomoe spinning sharply.
I won’t let these kids become the villains of history.
I will protect this bond.
Suddenly, the pile of broken wooden crates across the camp exploded outward.
“You miserable little brat!” a rough, blood-choked voice roared.
Senju Daiki, the veteran Jonin commander, stepped out of the dust.
His dark green armor was completely shattered in the center.
Beneath the broken metal, his chest was covered in a nasty, spiraling bloody burn mark.
The flesh looked like it had been put through a meat grinder.
He was breathing heavily, holding his massive serrated sword with a white-knuckled grip just to keep himself standing.
Daiki coughed up a mouthful of blood and stared at the boy who had just nearly killed him in one hit.
He took in the red Uchiha armor.
He took in the terrifying three-tomoe Sharingan spinning in the boy’s eyes.
A look of cruel recognition flashed in his mind, quickly followed by a cold, creeping horror.
Tajima’s eldest son…
Shinra, Daiki thought, his mind racing at a million miles an hour.
Our spies reported that he awakened the three-tomoe yesterday, but they swore his body was broken!
They said he was a crippled, dying dog!
This boy doesn’t look dying!
His chakra is suffocating!
But it wasn’t just Shinra’s health that was terrifying the Senju Jonin.
It was what Shinra had just done.
Daiki replayed the last ten seconds in his head.
He had been falling toward Madara.
The boy had intercepted him mid-air.
He didn’t weave any hand seals, Daiki realized, a cold sweat breaking out across his scarred face, mixing with the dirt and blood.
In the ninja world, hand seals were the absolute, unbreakable law of reality.
Humans were not born with the natural ability to shape the elements.
They had to weave complex signs with their fingers to mold their internal chakra into fire, water, or earth.
To cast a jutsu without hand seals—a Muji Ninjutsu—was a myth.
It meant a ninja could attack instantly, without warning, leaving their enemy with zero time to read their movements or prepare a defense.
It was a terrifying, game-breaking advantage.
He just formed a spinning vortex of pure, grinding chakra instantly in the palm of his hand, Daiki thought, his hands beginning to tremble slightly against the hilt of his sword.
No seals.
No warning.
Just raw, instant destruction.
Daiki swallowed hard.
As a high-ranking commander, he had seen the greatest talents of his own clan.
He thought of Clan Head Butsuma’s two most prized sons.
He thought of young Tobirama.
A boy who possessed a terrifying, cold intellect.
Tobirama was a tactical genius who analyzed every battlefield like a game of shogi.
He thought of Hashirama.
A boy with raw, monster-like physical strength and a boundless ocean of chakra that defied all human logic.
Daiki looked at Shinra Uchiha standing calmly in the mud.
This twelve-year-old boy had bypassed all the perimeter alarms silently.
He had perfectly calculated the exact moment to strike, saving his brother, blasting away the Jonin commander, and instantly snapping the neck of the biggest remaining threat—the Elite Chunin—in three flawless movements.
His tactical mind, his silent entry, his absolute lack of hesitation…
his wisdom and ruthlessness are already far above Tobirama’s!
Daiki thought in absolute panic.
Daiki looked down at his own destroyed chest armor, feeling the lingering, grinding pain of the Rasengan.
And that jutsu.
A seal-less technique with that much condensed destructive power.
Combined with those three-tomoe eyes…
if he perfects that, his raw attack strength and physical pressure might even grow to surpass Hashirama’s!
A heavy, dark, and absolute realization settled over Daiki’s soul.
Shinra Uchiha was an anomaly.
He was a monster wearing the skin of a child.
If this boy was allowed to grow into an adult, the Senju Clan was doomed.
There would be no future for them.
The Uchiha would win this endless war, and the Senju would be slaughtered to the very last child.
He must die, Daiki vowed to himself, his eyes glowing with a deadly, fanatical resolve.
He goes to the absolute top of the Must-Kill List.
Even above Tajima himself.
Daiki tightened his grip on his sword, pushing his own chakra pathways to their absolute breaking point.
He didn’t care about going back home anymore.
He didn’t care about seeing his family.
Even if I have to burn my own soul to ash today, I must drag this demon down to the underworld with me!
For the future of the Senju!
“So, the rumors were a lie!” Daiki roared, wiping a line of blood from his chin, his voice carrying the terrifying weight of a man ready to die.
“Tajima’s eldest son isn’t a dying dog!
You are a demon!” Shinra simply tilted his head, his face turning completely cold.
“Your spies are as blind as you are.” Daiki barked a harsh, ugly laugh.
“It doesn’t matter!
I don’t know what trick you used to cast a jutsu without seals, brat, but this is perfect!
I came here to kill Tajima’s youngest brats, but getting the Clan Heir is the ultimate prize!
I will make the mighty Uchiha clan completely heirless today!” Shinra didn’t flinch at the threat.
In his past life on Earth, a giant man waving a massive sword and screaming about cutting off heads would have made him faint in terror.
But right now, with the Supreme Combat Awareness running through his brain and the proud Uchiha blood pumping through his veins, he just felt a calm, chilling focus.
“You talk way too much for a dead man,” Shinra mocked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
He slowly drew a standard ninja kunai from his leg pouch.
He didn’t bother drawing a sword.
He wanted to test the physical limits of his new Matured Sage Body.
Daiki’s face twisted in pure rage at the disrespect.
He turned his head toward the last remaining Senju Elite Chunin, who was standing nervously near the edge of the camp, surrounded by the surviving Uchiha guards.
“Kill the two younger ones!” Daiki ordered his subordinate, his voice echoing like thunder.
“Do whatever it takes!
The Heir is mine!” Shinra didn’t look away from the Jonin, but he raised his voice.
“Madara!
Izuna!” “Yes, Shinra-nii!” Madara yelled back, his own single-tomoe Sharingan spinning to life as he gripped his short scythe.
“Take the surviving guards.
Surround that Elite Chunin and take him down.
Work together.
Do not try to fight him one-on-one,” Shinra ordered, sounding exactly like a seasoned war commander.
“Understood!” Izuna chirped, his fear completely replaced by overwhelming energy now that his older brother was here leading them.
Shinra knew Madara and Izuna were absolute prodigies.
With the help of the three remaining Uchiha Chunin, they could easily handle one Senju Elite.
Shinra didn’t have to worry about his brothers getting stabbed in the back anymore.
Now, he could focus entirely on the massive Jonin standing in front of him.
[Ding!] [Host has engaged in high-level combat.] [Mission status: In Progress.] “You’re confident, brat,” Daiki growled, raising his heavy sword.
The serrated blade began to glow with a sharp, dangerous, pale-blue wind chakra.
“Let’s see if those pretty red eyes can keep up with a man willing to throw his life away!” Daiki stomped his heavy boot into the mud, his Jonin-level chakra exploding outward in a visible wave.
Shinra bent his knees slightly.
The endless, oceanic chakra of his Matured Sage Body pumped effortlessly into his muscles, completely masking any weakness.
“Let’s see what this body can really do,” Shinra whispered to himself.
With a massive boom that shook the muddy ground and sent rain water flying into the air, both ninja vanished from their spots.
The real battle was about to begin.