"Heh…"
Obito forced down the strange stirring in his chest and sneered. "Doesn't matter if you stay silent. Once I capture you, I'll have plenty of ways to make you talk."
"Hmph. To speak of taking my disciple right in front of me, you clearly don't think much of me at all."
Orochimaru raised his right hand. His serpentine tongue slid along the cold steel of the Kusanagi Blade, voice chilling, emotionless.
"...Orochimaru. One of the Sannin?"
Obito scoffed. "Just the Fourth Hokage's defeated foe. Nothing more."
Then he straightened, voice thick with arrogance. "I am Uchiha Madara. Perhaps not at my peak, but enough to deal with the likes of you."
The bravado covered the uncertainty in his heart. He wasn't fully confident, but weakness was something he would never show.
Orochimaru's golden pupils narrowed sharply at the name. He knew well who Uchiha Madara was.
But a breath later his expression settled back into its usual eerie calm.
"Whether you are or not, we'll find out soon enough. As far as I know, Uchiha Madara died long ago, at the hands of the First Hokage."
Obito let out a derisive snort. "The world believes that. But did he truly kill me? If I was slain, then why is the Uchiha war fan, which should have been Konoha's spoils, here in my hands?"
"Is that so?" Orochimaru tilted his head, intrigued. "If we assume your claim is true… then for you to be alive, still young in voice and body… you must have mastered some sort of longevity technique, haven't you?"
Obito's masked face betrayed nothing. "What do you think?"
A retort instead of an answer. To Orochimaru, it reeked of deflection. Combined with what he said before, it only deepened the suspicion; this was no true Madara.
"Gen," Orochimaru murmured, golden eyes sliding to his disciple, "what do you think?"
Uchiha Gen regarded Obito carefully, face calm. "The fan is real enough, though chained and inscribed with foreign seals. But his manner is nothing like the Madara described in our clan records, nor the stories told by the elders. A young and unaged Madara would never skulk like this. I lean toward the Village's version; this is not Madara at all, but perhaps… an illegitimate child."
He paused deliberately, letting his words cut deeper. "Or even… an illegitimate daughter. After all, voice and appearance can both be disguised."
Obito's face darkened behind the mask. Illegitimate daughter? The thought was absurd. Yet he forced his voice steady, deep. "Heh. People change with experience. Once, I was too naive, too direct, lacking in schemes."
Gen's lips curved faintly. "Perhaps. But who you are doesn't matter. For what you've done to the Village, we cannot let you walk away."
The words had barely left his mouth when Gen vanished in a flicker of speed. In an instant he was at Obito's throat, Kusanagi flashing down.
And the moment the disciple moved, the master followed. Orochimaru's own Body Flicker brought him to Obito's flank, his blade slicing for the waist.
Clang! Ding!
Steel rang out. Orochimaru's Kusanagi struck the war fan, dull resonance echoing. Gen's blade clashed against the chain reinforced with formulae, sparks spraying brightly into the night.
Hidden Shadow Snake Hands!
Master and disciple moved in perfect accord, their left hands rising together. From their sleeves burst several brightly colored vipers, fangs bared as they lunged for Obito's body.
But every serpent passed harmlessly through. And then came the counterattack.
Wood Release: Exploding Spiked Tree!
Vines erupted from Obito's form, twisting violently, splitting into massive trunks. The two darted back at once, avoiding entanglement. In an instant a towering tree clawed upward, its hungry roots tearing into the frozen ground.
Orochimaru's eyes lit with manic delight. "Wood Release. And the Mangekyō Sharingan. How… fascinating." His voice quivered with excitement, as if he were gazing upon some peerless treasure to dissect. His tongue slid along the blade again, heedless of the winter chill.
Obito didn't linger. He spun and sprinted for the lakeshore. The frozen surface made Wood Release costly, chakra wasted on feeding life into dead ice.
"Shuryu," Gen called softly.
"Here, Master."
A crimson light shimmered as the flame dragon manifested fully in midair. Its jaws opened wide, exhaling a continuous torrent of fire.
Wind Release: Great Breakthrough!
Both master and disciple drove their blades into the ice, hands flashing through seals. Though a mere C-rank, in the hands of two Kage-level shinobi its power roared forth like a storm given form.
The gale screamed across the lake, visible streams of wind carving cracks into the ice.
Fanning Shuryu's inferno, the flames surged higher, hotter, and faster. The ice sheet melted and shattered, the blaze swelling until it rivaled Madara's Great Fire Annihilation itself.
Obito slung the war fan across his back and weaved seals.
Wood Release: Tree Encampment Wall!
Thick wooden bulwarks erupted before him, forming rings of protection. For a moment the flames battered harmlessly against the living walls. But the heat grew unbearable, and the wood began to smolder.
He had expected the fire to fade quickly. Instead, it burned hotter, feeding on the very walls meant to contain it.
His brow furrowed. If the flames outlasted Kamui's phasing, he would be cornered.
Again, master and disciple unleashed Great Breakthrough, the storm doubling, flames climbing higher. The burning walls only added fuel, turning the inferno into an unstoppable tide.
"Tch. What kind of Summoned Beast is that?" Obito cursed under his breath. At Tobi's urging, he let his body blur, phasing through the earth and sinking beneath the lake's ice.
Without his chakra sustaining them, the walls collapsed, devoured by the firestorm. The canyon glowed red, flames dancing high into the night.
"Shuryu," Gen called again.
"Understood."
The dragon inhaled deeply. With a single colossal breath, the roaring flames reversed course, flooding back into its vast maw like a whale swallowing the sea.
The blaze vanished. Steam rose from the lake, drifting in pale sheets of mist. The ice had melted into dark water, broken floes drifting. The moonlight painted the haze silver, giving the battlefield an eerie and dreamlike beauty.
On the shore, Obito emerged from his vortex, eyes narrowing behind the mask.
"What manner of beast… spits fire only to draw it back again? And stronger than before…"
Gen's Sharingan glimmered as he swept the fog.
He stretched his senses outward with Soul Perception. Beside him, Orochimaru's golden eyes flickered as he sought the warmth of a body in the mist.
They exchanged a single glance.
And then, without a word, master and disciple surged forward, feet skimming across drifting ice, their forms weaving together like twin arrows loosed from the same bow aimed straight at Obito.