"People… how could they just vanish into thin air?" Hyuga Sanchi's eyes widened, Byakugan veins throbbing violently. The jungle shifted beneath his gaze, but nothing moved—except for the Uchiha boy perched atop an owl. That kid… he had really disappeared.
What kind of jutsu could erase a body so completely? Even the Hyuga tripod—the sacred senses that had guided generations—couldn't answer that question.
"Move!" Hyuga Sanchi barked, and the jungle trembled as his ninjas surged in the direction Madara had fled.
A whisper in his ear, and the silver-white lens of Byakugan caught the flash of blue chakra. Too late: a child's kunai had sliced across his throat. His vision darkened, his body crumpled, and alarm cries rang out across the trees as the surrounding ninjas were thrown into chaos.
Raizen had reappeared.
One motion, one kill. Six attacking ninjas were reduced to three before they could even react. Raizen's low laugh floated through the moonlit trees as he launched a strange kunai into the night, slicing through the darkness like a scythe.
Moonlight returned. Under its glow, a black figure cut across the sky. Wherever he appeared, a ninja collapsed, unconscious. Three strikes, three fallen.
"Gather together!"
The remaining ninjas—those who had dared to strike at Madara—finally sensed the gravity of their mistake. They backed into a tight circle, desperate to shield themselves from Raizen's next move.
Flying Thunder God. Small-scale, surgical, lethal. Its power waned in massive battles, but against this few… it was miraculous.
Raizen crouched, picking up another Flying Thunder God kunai. His scarlet hair gleamed in the moonlight. The grin on his lips—more a slash of madness than humor—matched the swirling energy around him. From his ninja bag, a pinch of clay was kneaded, and a clay clone sprang to life before him.
"Time to die!" he whispered.
The ninjas charged, panic rippling through their formation. The clay clone darted forward, kunai in hand. It vanished and reappeared in the blink of an eye, appearing behind the clustered enemies.
A low laugh echoed as the clone expanded rapidly, ballooning around the three ninjas.
"Boom!"
The explosion tore through the forest. Airwaves shattered solid ground, mud rained like stones, and trees shuddered under the force. Distant, faint cries of surprise and pain echoed, but Raizen's eyes were fixed on the aftermath: a perfect sweep of the battlefield.
He exhaled, tension bleeding from his shoulders. Every Flying Thunder God kunai, every detonating clay—prepared in advance—had saved him once again. Survival was not luck. It was precision, foresight, and a touch of madness.
Madara watched from the distance, eyes wide. Eight ninjas… gone in under ten minutes. Flames from the explosions reflected in his pupils, and a spark of awe—and longing—ignited within him.
"If I awaken the Sharingan…" he whispered to himself. Could it ever match him? The question burned, unanswered, like fire in his chest.