Madara was a genius of the Uchiha clan—but only after meeting Raizen did he realize that his brilliance was still just a ladder to climb on someone else's back. At this moment, his usual ambition—the quiet arrogance of an Uchiha prodigy—burned hotter than ever.
"I… Uchiha Madara will not trail behind anyone ever again!"
His inner fire was unknown to Raizen, who was crouched atop the owl, studying the aftermath of the chaos. He barely noticed, because a silver glow flickered before him—a treasure chest, a reward of sorts, materializing as a result of his recent surge in achievements.
"Open it?" The system's cold voice pierced his thoughts.
Raizen didn't hesitate. The chest trembled, releasing a silver mist that coiled like smoke around him.
[System Notification]Congratulations, Host. Acquired Water Style: Mist Shinobi Technique. Do you accept?
"Accept."
Raizen wasn't overjoyed. The Mist Shinobi Technique wasn't flashy, nor was it overwhelmingly powerful—it was practical, like the Rock Shinobi Technique he'd mastered before. Precision, subtlety, control. Just what a ninja surviving in the Warring States era needed.
Within moments, Raizen had already absorbed its secrets. With chakra, he could curl fog around him, thick and concealing, masking his movements from those who sensed chakra. But it was useless against the Byakugan. Hyuga vision could pierce the thickest mist without hesitation.
"Raizen, we need to move—now!" Madara's voice broke through his analysis. He had landed beside him, eyes no longer ablaze with greed for power, but steady with focus.
"Understood." Raizen nodded. The explosions from earlier had scattered nearby enemies, buying them a window—but staying too long here would attract reinforcements. Small skirmishes were survivable; a full Jōnin squad? Even Flying Thunder God wouldn't save him.
Together, they took to the air, flying deep into the jungle. But in the shadows, three pairs of scarlet eyes glimmered.
"The blood is still warm… not long after death."
A Uchiha ninja knelt by the fallen Hyuga, whispering to his comrades.
"Who did this?" another asked, staring at the devastation.
Before an answer could form, three kunai streaked from the trees, followed by Hyuga coalition ninjas crashing into the Uchiha team. Darkness exploded into chaos again—two clans clashing, night alive with movement and shouts.
The fight stretched from dusk to dawn. Exhaustion painted the battlefield: even the strongest were forced to retreat, lick wounds, and regroup. Supplies dwindled, morale frayed, and strategy turned into desperation.
At the first light of day, Uchiha Tajima arrived. Silent and swift, he moved like a hunter through the remnants of the battlefield, finishing off scattered enemy ninjas and confirming that Hyuga supplies had been destroyed. The news spread like wildfire, and the Hyuga forces stumbled, unsteady in the face of mounting losses.
With both sides hesitant, fighting slowed. Meetings of eyes replaced blades, and grudging, tacit agreements kept combat at bay. The sun rose higher, illuminating fireworks set by the Hyuga—a final display before their retreat. The Uchiha coalition cheered, knowing the battle was theirs, their morale and control intact despite the heavy losses.
Raizen and Madara, emerging from their hidden perches, joined the victorious Uchiha coalition. Survivors, wounded but alive, they stepped into a fragile calm—readying themselves for whatever the Warring States era would throw at them next.