**ONE DAY LATER – RUINED COURTYARD**
Kaido sprawled atop rubble-strewn steps—massive frame draped against fractured granite. Plum feather-cape pooled indigo shadows beneath him like spilled twilight. Dawn's gold had bled to midday haze, thick with pollen and crushed stone-dust. Between scaled fingers—a wine gourd dangled, rough-carved oak darkened by dragon-sweat grip. Not vintage. Swill. Stolen from Iwakura cellars alongside terrified laborers. He tilted it—amber liquid sloshed—before gulping deep. Vinegar fire burned down his throat. Perfect. Mortal weakness distilled. Eyes drifted half-shut—not drowsy. Dragon-sleep: senses stretched taut across territory. Goro's hammer rang frantic near the void-shaft—obsidian kanabō biting chain-bound flesh. Hideshi's wind-jutsu screamed shriller eastward—thorn forest fighting back. Kenji whispered frantic prayers over casualties. Heartbeats drummed survival. Weakness. Potential flickering… almost bright enough. Wine splashed onto bedrock below—dark stain spreading like old blood.
**Crack.** Twig-snap—too deliberate. Footsteps—hasty, stumbling. Kaido didn't turn. Crimson gaze slid sideways—slitted pupils catching Kenji's silhouette scrambling through fractured Torii gates. Dust choked his wheezing breaths. Kimono sleeves flapped torn—thorn-scars weeping red across trembling forearms. Eyes wide—terror buckling knees before dragon-shadow. He skidded, choked, swallowed bile. **"L-Lord Kaido!"** Voice cracked—mortal dread scraping raw. Kaido took another languid gulp. Wine sloshed. Waited. Kenji's fist clenched—knuckles whitening against terror. **"Scouts! East ridge!"** Words tumbled—boulder-avalanche panic. **"Shinobi! Forty—maybe fifty! Marching… fast!"** He pointed—finger trembling—toward dense forest tangle shadowing crumbling eastern walls. **"Senju crests! And…"** He swallowed—dry click echoing. **"...Uchiha."** Dragon-lids lifted—slow. Crimson pupils narrowed infinitesimally. Wine gourd lowered. Kenji flinched—awaiting annihilation.
Kaido's grin returned—glacier-fangs glinting. Not surprise. Anticipation. Finally. **Konoha's ghosts came calling.** Not saplings yet—but poisoned roots clawing dragon's den. His thumb traced gourd-stopper—rough wood splitting beneath scaled pressure. Breath steamed—charged air thickening. Plum feathers stirred—indigo whispers tasting wind-borne sweat-stink… ozone tang… yes. Distant chakra signatures flickering—hotter than samurai sparks. Ash-stink beneath Senju life-force. Uchiha fire scorching isolation. Hashirama's sapling sorrow? Madara's nascent fury? Irrelevant. Meat for the crucible. Kaido surged upward—effortless, tectonic. Rubble avalanched beneath scaled boots. Feather-cape billowed—thundercloud swallowing sun. Kanabō swung—obsidian teeth kissing shoulder plate—resonating low hum. **"Good."** The word cracked Kenji's terror—freezing him mid-tremble. Dragon-shadow bled across courtyard—swallowing Hideshi's wind-scream, Goro's frantic hammering. Training paused. War called. Better. Kaido inhaled—deep, resonant—forest rot… mortal fear… incoming thunder. Eyes ignited—blood-beacons carving path eastward. **"Let them come."**
He stretched—slow, deliberate. Dragon sinews uncoiled—riverbed shoulders rolling back—spine cracking like splitting glaciers. Plum-cape rippled—darkness pooling at boots as indigo silk settled against corded muscle. Fists clenched—scaled knuckles popping—quartz veins beneath flagstones shattering. Every motion radiated lazy menace. Predator savoring prey's approach. Boots scuffed annihilation-scented gravel—casual stroll toward shattered east wall. Torii fragments crunched beneath dragon-forged soles—splintered scarlet wood weeping sap like bloodied tears. Observation Haki unfurled—invisible tendrils snaking through forest gloom. Forty-three signatures—no. Forty-two now. One Senju scout tripped a razor-laced vine—arterial spray misting bracken ferns. Haki tasted panic—salt-copper on tongue. Uchiha fire-flares burned brighter… closer… accelerating. Kaido's grin widened—fangs drinking haze-thick light. His pace didn't quicken. Gravel ground slower beneath him—time warping to dragon's drumbeat.
Kanabō dipped—obsidian teeth dragging a furrow through weed-choked sand. Dust plumed—golden motes swirling in dragon-wake. Feather-cape whispered—dead leaves skittering from indigo shadows. Crimson gaze pierced crumbling ramparts—past splintered wood and moss-stone—into poison-thorn thicket where Senju green flickered like drowning fireflies. Twin signatures burned hotter: Senju vitality—raw sap-lush power—stuttering against Uchiha ambition's controlled inferno. Younger. Weaker than Konoha-corrupted wraiths. But unmistakable. Hashirama's trembling hope. Madara's simmering scorn. Kaido halted—boots sinking inches into bedrock—at courtyard's fractured edge. Bare torso gleamed—volcanic muscle carved for annihilation. He rolled neck—joints cracking mortar-fire. Plum silk settled—final fold draping victory shroud. Kanabō lifted—effortless—Haki-vibrant obsidian settling horizontal across scaled traps. Ready stance? Lazy invitation—club held low, parallel to earth—dragon-spine relaxed, coiled. Dawn's bloody light painted obsidian teeth crimson. **"Welcome,"** Kaido rumbled—voice echoing through forest stillness—toward trembling leaf-shadows where futures hid. **"To the forge."**
Forest canopy exploded—not kunai-storm—not fireball—but **life.** Thorned vines lashed sideways—snapping like rotten rope—as Hashirama burst through green-wall—wild-eyed, oak-sap scent swirling. Behind him—Madara erupted—obsidian hair smoke-stained, Sharingan swirling crimson—Uchiha flames licking torn sleeves. Forty shinobi fanned out—kunai gleaming, trembling breath held—senbon poised half-drawn. Silence choked courtyard—heavy, charged—broken only by Hashirama's ragged gasp—eyes locking on Kaido's scaled shadow—on violet-black kanabō shimmering annihilation-wake… on half-vaporized Iwakura lord twitching chains nearby. Madara hissed—low, feral—hyouton mist frosting breath. Kaido's grin split dawn—glacier-fangs drinking pallid light. The laugh began—not thunderclap—but slow tectonic shift—boulders grinding underground—building. Escalating. Peaking into raw sonic avalanche shaking rubble-strewn earth. Mortals flinched—hands slamming ears—Kenji collapsing vomiting bile. Feather-cape rippled—indigo storm-front waiting.
The laugh cut—absolute silence sharper than wind-blade. Crimson gaze pinned Madara—pinned Hashirama—dragon-lids narrowing infinitesimally. **"Have you both,"** Kaido rumbled—words cracking flagstones beneath boots—"**come to beat me?"** Pause. Obsidian teeth gleamed—kanabō tilting lazily—hairline fractures spiderwebbing oak haft. **"After all you have seen?"** Feather-cape snapped sudden wind—shadow bleeding toward trembling shinobi line—forest whispers dying mid-breath. Madara's Sharingan spun frantic—scanning vaporized bedrock-glass pit… shredded banner clawing sky… Goro's bleeding fists welded to chain-anvil. Hashirama swallowed—dry click echoing—eyes wide with replayed dragon-flight terror. Kaido's voice dropped—liquid nitrogen poured onto flame. **"You are either very stupid..."** Scaled knuckles tightened—club humming violet-black bass-note vibrating marrow. **"...or you have a plan."** Final word—hammerfall—echoed through broken gateways—promising furnace-heat answer.
Madara stepped forward—boot crushing splintered Torii wood—Fire-crackling defiance mounting. "The slaughter ends," he snarled—Kyton Chakra thickening around fists—iFire balls forming mid-air. "This mountain bleeds shinobi dreams." Hashirama flinched—hand lifting—half-formed wooden tendril sprouting palm—not attack—plea. "Kaido-san—please!" Sap-sweet voice cracked—desperation carving young face. "These clans—they fear you! They flee! Spare them—" Kaido's snort—steam-jet scalding dawn-haze—cut him short. Crimson gaze slid past the pleading senju pleading Senju—locking onto Uchiha fury. "Of course they fear me," rumbled dragon-thunder—basalt flagstones trembling beneath scaled boots. "Strength causes fear..." Kanabō lifted fractionally—obsidian teeth humming violet-black static. "...and fear keeps the rabble in line." Obsidian pupils narrowed—slitted—piercing Madara's spinning Sharingan. "Now tell me..." Voice sharpened—diamond chisel scraping bone. "...do you truly believe *this*..." He gestured contemptuously—kanabō haft sweeping toward forty trembling shinobi clutching kunai like talismans—"...is enough to beat me?" Haki-pressure spiked—air thickening like tar. Mortals gasped—knees buckling—Senju genin collapsed retching. Madara's ice-shards shattered mid-air—frost mist evaporating. Hashirama's wood-tendril withered—ash-grey dust. "That in four days..." Kaido's laugh resumed—low, grinding—boulders pulverizing bedrock. "...you have suddenly become strong enough to fight me?" Feather-cape flared—indigo storm swallowing light. "Let alone..." Dragon-lips peeled back—glacier-fangs glinting annihilation-promise. "...**beat me**?!"
He unleashed Conqueror's Haki—not mere pulse—but focused **tsunami.** Air screamed backwards—pollen-laden haze ripped sideways—forming vacuum-blizzard towards Kaido's throne-rubble. Flagstones exploded upward—not debris—crystalline dust-vapor shredded by invisible force. Ninja scattered—kunai flung wild—senbon dissolving mid-flight. Forty-three became thirty—became twenty—limbs flailing—mouths wide in silent agony—eyes rolling white. Madara staggered—Sharingan whirling frantically—blood trickling nose—Fire Balls evaporated instantly. Hashirama screamed—no sound—as sap-green chakra flickered—died—leaking crimson from tear ducts. Kenji whimpered—buried beneath plum-feather shadow—dragon-sweat stench choking lungs. Only chains rattled—Goro's hammer frozen mid-strike—iron fused to trembling fist. Void-shaft echoed—kilometer-deep abyss humming hungry resonance. Dragon-eyes blazed—indifferent—surveying crumpled futures.
Silence reclaimed courtyard—thicker now—blood-scented. Sunlight dared return—pallid streaks illuminating wreckage: crumpled shinobi uniforms soaked crimson, chains fused to trembling limbs, stone-dust settling slow as funeral ash. Kaido's Conqueror's Haki lingered—a suffocating blanket woven from despair and shattered vertebrae. Only Madara remained upright—barely—knees locked, Sharingan bleeding crimson tears that sizzled coldly against fractured rock, throat working soundlessly. Hashirama lay prone—face pressed into gravel-strewn earth—wooden armor smoking faintly where protective chakra had buckled. Kaido inhaled—deep, volcanic—drinking terror's perfume. His crimson gaze swept the broken tableau: twitching Senju, paralyzed Uchiha, whimpering "Beast Pirates" huddled beneath rubble. Disgust etched itself onto dragon-scaled features—not for their pain, but their *fragility*. Kanabō dipped—obsidian teeth kissing bedrock—a sound like cracking glaciers. **"Pathetic,"** he rumbled—voice resonating through marrow. **"Scurry back to your forest nurseries. Grow claws before daring this mountain again."**
Madara choked—a raw, wet sound—forcing words past cracked ribs. **"You... destroy... everything!"** His Sharingan flared—desperate defiance—catching fractured light off Kaido's plum-cape. Kaido merely snorted—steam jetting—scaling the air. Dragon-eyes narrowed—focusing solely on Madara's bleeding iris. **"Destruction?"** The word dripped contempt. **"I show you *strength*. True strength doesn't cling to brittle alliances."** Kanabō lifted fractionally—pointing eastward toward Konoha's unborn ghost. **"Your villages? Cages. Your clans? Chains."** He leaned forward—plum-cape swallowing light—voice sharpening to diamond-edge. **"Fight me alone. Or not at all."**
He turned—deliberate, tectonic—plum-cape swirling indigo tempest at his heels. Scaled shoulders blocked dawn's feeble glow—casting the courtyard deeper into shadow. Boots crunched quartz to glittering powder. **"Come back,"** Kaido rumbled—not looking back—each word vibrating flagstones beneath unconscious bodies, **"when your fists remember their rage... when your eyes see only battle... when your spine holds you upright."** A pause—heavy as falling mountains. Vinegar-wine stench soured the wind. **"Backup?"** Final word cracked whip-sharp—dismissing clans, comrades, cowardice. **"Only weakness needs it."**
Kanabō slammed onto scaled shoulder—obsidian teeth humming sanguine promise. Kaido strode northwest—toward Goro's echoing hammer-strike—leaving broken futures gasping in dragon-dust. **"I await warriors,"** his voice boomed—echoing through forest corpse, shaking Stone Crags' trembling foundations, **"not weeping children with borrowed strength."** Plum-cape flared—swallowing the sun—as he vanished into smog-thick pines. The unspoken challenge hung—etched in seismic aftershocks and cooling blood: *Survive. Evolve. Or remain forever prey.*