"Even your own son is calculated. Some things never change, Senju Butsuma," Uchiha Tajima sneered, his eyes flicking with steel.
"Are you any different?" Butsuma shot back, her own grin sharp as a kunai.
The four of them—Tajima, Butsuma, Izuna, and Tobirama—stood along the riverbank like predators circling prey, the tension so thick it could be sliced with a chakra blade. A stray green leaf drifted lazily into the water, and in that moment, all four attacked simultaneously. Blades clashed, sparks flying in a burst of deadly precision.
Tajima and Butsuma, the patriarchs of their respective clans, had fought countless duels over the years. They knew each other's strength intimately, and each strike carried the weight of legacy and unspoken rivalry. Meanwhile, Tobirama and Izuna—battle-hardened and blood-bound rivals—launched their own lethal exchange, their movements fluid, fast, and merciless.
Even with their combined might, Tajima and Butsuma felt the limits pressing against them. No matter how they moved, no decisive advantage could be claimed. In a sudden, explosive motion, each lunged toward the other's offspring, hoping to cut down the next generation before it could grow strong.
"Ding!"
Two stones tore through the air, smashing into the weapons and halting the attacks mid-strike. Hashirama and Madara had arrived on the scene, rushing to intercept.
"So, it comes to this," Douren muttered, a shadow of helplessness in his tone. "Indra and Ashura finally meet on the battlefield."
Madara's gaze locked on Hashirama, conflicted yet resolute. Pain flashed across her eyes, and a deep crimson glimmer—Sharingan—blazed open, the family's bloodline awakening in her very soul.
"I… me too," Hashirama whispered, acknowledging the struggle mirrored in Madara's eyes. He refused to back down despite seeing his younger brother Tobirama in danger.
"Hashirama," Madara said, her voice steady now, carrying the weight of harsh reality.
"What?"
"I've cherished the time with you and Douren… but reality is cruel. People are bound by constraints; ideals rarely align with the world. So from now on, if we meet on the battlefield, we are enemies."
"Madara…" Hashirama's heart throbbed painfully as he watched her determination. The dream they once shared—building a village without war under the cliff—now seemed fragile, almost impossible.
Uchiha Tajima's lips curled into a rare smile, pride flickering in his eyes. "Finally, Sharingan awakens at nine years old. Such talent surpasses even me. Good."
Butsuma's hand twitched at the sight, fury and worry mixing as she listened to Tajima's words. Even as their families argued, no one struck immediately. Both patriarchs understood the stakes—they couldn't risk a full clash yet.
But Raizen—ever the sideline observer—had no such reservations. The Amamiya prodigy, alone against the greatest clans, was now the unexpected target.
"Dead!" Tajima and Butsuma's voices rang in unison, their chakra flaring as they charged at Douren.
Raizen exhaled, watching the tidal wave of power rushing toward him. He glanced back at Madara and Hashirama, shouting across the battlefield:
"Even if you oppose each other, remember our promise! The village under the cliff—no war, it belongs to everyone!"
But the world had grown heavier, darker, and far less forgiving than any agreement could bind.
...
Read up to 100 chapters ahead and access exclusive novels by joining my Patreon!
patreon.com/Zyxxar