[EVERY 100 POWER STONE'S EXTRA ONE CHAPTER]
The pressure Toka felt did not dissipate; it intensified, coiling into a knot of pure dread in her stomach, a sensation so visceral it was a physical pain. It was no longer a whisper from her past-life memories but a scream in her senses, a wrongness so profound it made the very air taste of ozone and decay. Her eyes, sharpened by years of vigilance and the ghost of a future that was desperately trying to reassert itself, scanned the periphery with a frantic intensity. There—a flicker of movement that defied the logic of the battle, a glitch in the carefully choreographed dance. A mid-level Senju warrior, a man named Kaede known for his solid, if unspectacular, Earth Style techniques, had broken formation. His movements were jerky, unnatural, his spine unnaturally straight, his limbs moving with the stuttering, marionette-like grace of a puppet controlled by a malevolent, unseen hand. And he was moving with a single-minded, terrifying purpose—not towards the Uchiha front line, but on a direct, intercepting course for Izuna.
"Tobirama! Disengage! Now!" Toka's voice was a whip-crack, a raw sound of panic that sliced through the clangor of battle, carrying a note of terror her brothers had never heard from her.
But it was too late. The puppet-Senju's hands were already moving through a sequence of seals that were far too complex, far too alien for Kaede's known capabilities. The hand signs were a blur of contorted fingers, speaking a language of chakra that was ancient and profane.
"Earth Release: Fissure of the Abyss!" The voice that came from Kaede's mouth was a guttural, distorted rasp, layered with a malice that was centuries old, the true voice of Black Zetsu bleeding through the hijacked vocal cords.
The ground beneath Izuna and Tobirama did not just crack; it screamed. This was no ordinary earth-style technique. The earth tore open with a sickening, organic slowness, as if the soil and stone were living flesh being rent apart by an invisible scalpel. A chasm wider than a river yawned open, its edges glowing with a vile, purplish energy shot through with veins of inky blackness that seemed to drink the light from the air. This was not chakra as they knew it; it was a corruption, a cancer upon nature itself.
Izuna, his three-tomoe Sharingan spinning wildly, predicted the collapse and leaped backward with the grace of a cat. But the edge of the chasm where he landed did not just crumble; it dissolved into that same purple-black ooze, sucking at his ankles like tar. Tobirama, reacting with his instinctual, preternatural speed, threw a Flying Raijin kunai towards a stable patch of ground twenty meters away. But before the kunai could even complete its arc, a whip-like tendril of the black energy lashed out from the fissure with impossible speed, not striking the kunai, but corrupting it mid-air. The space-time seal on the kunai flickered and died, the metal turning a dull, lifeless grey before clattering uselessly into the abyss. They were trapped on a rapidly dissolving island of earth, surrounded by a sea of chakra-devouring corruption.
"An interesting variable. The energy signature is… alien. It resists standard chakra analysis," Tobirama muttered, his brilliant mind already trying and failing to categorize the threat, a flicker of genuine unease in his crimson eyes.
"Less analysis, more escaping, Senju!" Izuna snapped, the perceived, existential threat triggering a deeper, more primal response. With a surge of panic and will, the pattern in his eyes shifted, the tomoe melting and reforming into a complex, windmill-like design. The Mangekyo Sharingan blazed to life, its sinister purple light a stark contrast to the vile purple of the fissure.
From the shadows, fully merged with the struggling consciousness of Kaede, Black Zetsu allowed himself a surge of vile triumph. Yes! That's it! Unleash your cursed power! Let your brother see the depth of your despair! This is the perfect tragedy!
Toka was already in motion, her heart a frantic drum against her ribs. Her hands flew through seals with practiced speed. "Water Style: Great Water Dragon Jutsu!" A massive, roaring dragon of chakra-infused water erupted from the nearby river, its form a testament to her mastery. nearly the size of 500 meter's It did not attack the trapped men, but instead slammed its bulk into the side of their dissolving island, intending to solidify the earth into a stable pillar of mud. For a moment, it worked, providing a precarious new footing. But the victory was short-lived. The purple-black energy, sensing the new source of chakra, latched onto the water dragon. The vibrant blue water turned murky, then thick and viscous, like clotting blood, before solidifying into a grotesque, tar-like substance that now acted as a prison, further trapping Izuna and Tobirama.
It was a stalemate, and Zetsu was winning. He was a master of patience and pressure, and he was expertly forcing a scenario where escape was impossible, and death or severe maiming was inevitable.
It was then that the unthinkable happened. The puppet-Senju, Kaede, his body a battleground between his own will and Zetsu's ancient malice, found a single, fleeting moment of control. His face, which had been a slack, expressionless mask, contorted in a gargoyle-like rictus of agony and immense effort. His eyes, which had been blank, rolled back in his head, showing the whites, and he screamed, a raw, tearing sound ripped from the very core of his soul.
"EVERYONE! WHOEVER YOU ARE, UCHIHA OR SENJU, I DON'T CARE! PLEASE! KILL ME!" he shrieked, his voice echoing across the suddenly hushed battlefield. "SOMEONE… IS CONTROLLING MY BODY! THEY WANT TO KILL THE UCHIHA YOUNG MASTER IZUNA AND THE SENJU YOUNG MASTER TOBIRAMA! PLEASE! I CAN'T… I CAN'T CONTROL IT ANYMORE!"
His voice cracked, dropping to a desperate, broken whisper that was somehow more piercing than his scream. "…Please…"
Then, his body went rigid once more, the momentary spark of his consciousness snuffed out like a candle in a hurricane. But it was enough. The words had been heard.
At the center of the battlefield, the titanic clash between Hashirama and Madara froze. The massive wooden fist of the Wood Human technique halted inches from the ethereal blade of the Susanoo. Both men turned, their senses, honed to a razor's edge, locking onto the scene at the western flank. They had heard Kaede's desperate, dying plea. They saw their brothers trapped, saw the unnatural chasm, saw the terror on Toka's face.
A simultaneous, primal roar of fury erupted from both their throats.
"IZUNA!" Madara bellowed, his Susanoo dissolving into a swirl of blue chakra as he abandoned his duel, his entire being focused on one thing: saving his brother.
"HANG ON, TOBIRAMA! TOKA!" Hashirama's voice was a thunderclap of concern, his face a mask of frantic determination.
They moved with speed that defied physics, becoming blurs of motion. As they ran, their hands flew through seals in perfect, desperate synchronicity, a testament to their strange, deep connection even as enemies.
"Wood Style: Great Forest Emergence!" Hashirama roared, slamming his palms into the ground.
"Fire Style: Great Fire Meteor!" Madara shouted, taking a deep, massive breath.
From the earth in front of Hashirama, a forest of gigantic, serpentine wooden tendrils erupted, not to attack, but to lash out and form a living, interwoven bridge across the corrupted fissure, attempting to create an escape route.
From Madara's mouth, a storm of colossal fireballs, each the size of a house, rained down, not on the bridge, but on the edges of the fissure itself, seeking to cauterize and burn away the corrupting energy.
It was a breathtaking, desperate display of power and coordination. But they were too late, and they were fighting an enemy who understood chakra on a fundamental, parasitic level.
As the wooden bridge extended towards the trapped island, the black-purple energy reacted. It didn't try to destroy the wood; it infested it. The vibrant, life-filled wood of Hashirama's technique turned black and brittle, crumbling into ash before it could reach its target. Madara's apocalyptic fire, which should have vaporized anything it touched, was instead absorbed by the fissure, the purple glow intensifying, feeding on the immense chakra of the technique.
In that moment of failed salvation, the trapped island gave one final, violent shudder. The corrupted mud and tar-like water lost all cohesion. Tobirama, ever the pragmatist, tried to form a water clone as a stepping stone, but the clone was corrupted instantly, dissolving into black sludge. Izuna, using his Mangekyo, attempted to manifest the skeletal ribs of his own nascent Susanoo for protection, but the strain was immense, and the corrosive energy ate away at the chakra construct like acid.
With a final, sickening lurch, the ground beneath them vanished completely.
They fell into the abyss.
It was not a clean fall. The fissure was not empty. It was filled with lashing, whip-like tendrils of the corrupting energy. As they fell, these tendrils struck them, not with physical force, but with a soul-scarring corrosion.
A black tendril wrapped around Tobirama's right leg. There was no blood, only a sizzling sound as the chakra pathways in his leg were instantly and permanently severed, the flesh turning a necrotic grey. Another tendril, like a spear, shot up and pierced through Izuna's lower abdomen, just below his ribcage. He didn't scream; he gasped, a wet, hollow sound, as he felt something vital within him—not just an organ, but his very connection to his chakra core—be violently torn and poisoned.
Hashirama and Madara reached the edge of the fissure just in time to see their brothers struck, their faces masks of identical horror. The fissure, its purpose served, collapsed in on itself with a final, mundane rumble, as if the unnatural energy had simply vanished, leaving only the scarred, broken earth and the broken bodies of the two young masters.
The battlefield was utterly, deathly silent.
They rushed forward. Hashirama and Toka reached Tobirama, while Madara fell to his knees beside Izuna.
The sight was devastating. Tobirama was unconscious, his skin pale and clammy. His right leg was a dead, withered thing, the chakra within it utterly extinguished. But more alarming was the internal damage; his chakra network was in tatters, flickering weakly like a guttering candle.
Izuna was conscious, but barely. His Mangekyo had faded, his eyes returning to their black, sightless state. A terrible, blackened wound marred his abdomen, pulsing with a faint, residual purple energy that seemed to resist all natural healing. He was bleeding internally, his life force ebbing away with each shallow, ragged breath.
"No… NO!" Madara cried, gathering his younger brother into his arms, his voice cracking with a grief so raw it was physical. "Izuna! Stay with me! Look at me!"
Hashirama was already at work, his hands glowing with the vibrant green light of his supreme healing jutsu. Toka joined him, her own medical ninjutsu, though less potent, pouring into Tobirama. They worked with a frantic, desperate energy, their faces etched with concentration and terror.
"His chakra pathways… they're severed. It's like they've been… erased," Hashirama whispered, his voice trembling. "I can mend the flesh, but the network… it's beyond my power to fully restore."
Toka, tears streaming down her face unchecked, focused on stabilizing Tobirama's core. "His leg is lost, brother. The chakra system there is completely necrotic. But his life… we can still save his life."
For hours, they worked, long after the rest of the battle had dispersed in stunned silence. They poured every ounce of their immense chakra into their brothers, fighting against the lingering corruption. Finally, as the sun began to set, casting long, sorrowful shadows across the scarred field, both Izuna and Tobirama stabilized, but they did not wake. Their breathing was shallow but steady. They were alive, but they were broken.
Hashirama and Toka collapsed from chakra exhaustion, falling into a deep, troubled sleep where they were guarded by their clansmen.
It was Madara who carried Izuna back to the Uchiha compound, his face a stone mask of grief and fury. He sat by Izuna's bedside in the sterile, quiet room, refusing food or water, his gaze fixed on his brother's pale, still face. The promise he had made to Indra echoed in his mind, a taunting, failed oath. "Protect him with your life." He had failed. The weight of that failure was crushing.
On the third day, Izuna stirred. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused and clouded with pain.
"Brother…" he whispered, his voice a dry rasp.
"I'm here, Izuna," Madara said, leaning forward, his hand gripping his brother's weakly.
"Don't be sad…" Izuna managed, a faint, heartbreaking smile touching his lips. "Even if I die… you have to move forward. The clan… needs you." He took a shuddering breath. "And… please… stop Elder Brother…"
Madara froze. "Stop Indra? Why?"
"If he… if he goes mad with grief… or power… no one will survive. No one." Izuna's eyes held a terrifying clarity. "So… please… take them. Take my eyes. Transplant them into yours. With this… you might have a chance… a chance to stop Elder Brother Indra."
The request hung in the air, monstrous and sacred. To take the eyes of his living brother? It was the ultimate Uchiha taboo, the source of their deepest curse.
Madara's own Mangekyo spun wildly in his anguish. He saw the unshakeable conviction in Izuna's dying gaze. He saw the logic, cold and brutal. He thought of Indra's impossible power, the Six Eyes that saw the soul, the way he had vanished without a trace. If that power were ever turned against the world… Izuna was right.
"Who did this, Izuna?" Madara asked, his voice low and deadly. "Who controlled Kaede?"
Izuna's eyes lost focus, remembering the horror of the fall. "It was… not human. It was like… a black substance. A shadow… I didn't see it fully… but it was a shadow… with a will."
A shadow. That was all he had. But for Madara, it was enough. A target for his bottomless rage.
He looked at his brother, at the selfless, terrible love in his sacrifice. He thought of the future, of the peace Hashirama dreamed of, and the unimaginable threat his own elder brother potentially represented. He made his decision.
With a slow, solemn nod, Madara accepted the burden. "I will, Izuna. I will take your eyes. And I swear to you, I will find this shadow, this thing that did this to you, and I will burn it from this world. And I will protect our clan, and this world, from any threat. Even from Indra."
The transplant was performed in secret, a grim, sorrowful ritual. When the bandages came off, Madara's Mangekyo Sharingan had transformed. The pattern was new, a fusion of his own and Izuna's, swirling with immense, perpetual power. The Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan was his. The cost had been his brother's sight, and a piece of both their souls.
Izuna did not die. The combined efforts of Hashirama and Toka had been just enough to anchor him to life, as they had for Tobirama. But both young masters were forever broken. They would never again set foot on a battlefield. Izuna would live out his days in darkness, a blind sage within the clan. Tobirama would rule from a chair, his brilliant mind trapped in a body that could no longer keep up with his thoughts, his leg a permanent reminder of the day a shadow tried to rewrite destiny.
And Madara, his heart encased in ice, his eyes burning with a cold, eternal fire, had a new, singular purpose. Unify the clans. Bring a forced peace. And then, begin the hunt for the shadow that had taken his brother from him, setting him on a path that would forever alter the fate of the shinobi world. The string had been severed, but the puppet was now moving on its own, driven by a grief-stricken will of steel.
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[EVERY 100 POWER STONES EXTRA ONE CHAPTER]