Chapter 256: Is This a Samurai?
At the edge of the wasteland,
the battlefield of the Ninja Alliance was finally calming down.
Though the Kirigakure ninjas had been cunning…
Though some shinobi, disillusioned with their lives, rebelled under Nagato's manipulation…
In the end, they were nothing but a group of leaderless rabble.
These men had been stirred by Nagato's overwhelming power—
entranced, they charged into battle, hoping for glory.
At first, amid the chaos of a disorganized Allied Force, they gained ground.
But as the dust settled and no commanding Akatsuki figure led the charge, their morale crumbled.
And when the heat of their charge faded, they began to realize the truth:
their numbers were thinning,
their comrades falling one by one,
and they were being swallowed up by the overwhelming force of the Allied Army.
They'd been used.
Only now did the Kirigakure shinobi finally come to their senses.
Yes, the Akatsuki might stand at the peak of the shinobi world.
Nagato's power alone was enough to shake nations.
But what did that matter to them?
Did the Akatsuki truly see them as allies?
Would those who were once enemies—and had only fought side by side for a month—ever be equals?
---
"Run!"
"Master Zabuza, please, spare me!"
"Mizukage! I want to speak with the Fifth Mizukage!"
The once-proud Kirigakure unit collapsed into panic.
Some tried to appeal to their former comrades in the alliance, begging for mercy.
But…
"You already betrayed us," Zabuza muttered coldly, swinging the Executioner's Blade.
"What's the point of talking now?"
Blood splashed. The kneeling traitor fell.
---
"Haku. Don't hold back."
"Yes… Master Zabuza."
The young man hesitated, but obeyed.
Zabuza—once a traitor who defied the Fourth Mizukage and tried to kill him—
had now been recalled and reinstated as a proper shinobi of Kirigakure.
With the Akatsuki's lies exposed, history had twisted again.
---
"Lord Tsuchikage…"
As the battlefield quieted, shinobi began to notice the scene in the wasteland.
They were stunned to see the Five Kage, who had previously engaged Nagato in fierce battle, now standing at the edge of the Allied Forces' field.
Kings versus kings. Generals versus generals.
From beginning to end, none of the Allied shinobi had dared intervene.
They understood—they had no place in that battle.
But now… the Five Kage had returned from the wasteland.
"After dealing with the traitors, escort the wounded to the rear for treatment.
All units—stay alert."
Forced back from the fight, Ōnoki glanced at the other Kage beside him.
With a mutual nod, he gave orders to an Iwagakure jōnin.
"And the Jinchūriki?"
"They're safe, Lord Tsuchikage," the jōnin reported.
"We received intel that several Akatsuki members, including Deidara, tried to infiltrate the rear by disguising themselves.
But most were killed—by Uchiha Itachi."
"Kisame from Hidden Mist and Hidan from the Hot Springs Village are still on the run.
We've dispatched jōnin-level shinobi to track them down."
---
"Uchiha Itachi…"
Ōnoki's eyes dimmed upon hearing Deidara was dead.
But when he heard it was "one of their own" who had done it,
he looked sharply at Jiraiya.
Jiraiya's expression was complex.
"What about Uchiha Sasuke?" he asked quietly.
"Did Itachi do anything to him?"
It was beginning to look like Itachi hadn't truly betrayed Konoha.
Their silence and absence before this might have had another explanation.
The jōnin answered without hesitation.
"Sasuke and Itachi fought. In the end… Sasuke won. Then he disappeared."
"Disappeared?" Jiraiya frowned. A sinking feeling crept into his chest.
"He applied to retreat to the rear, claiming exhaustion.
From the reports, he seemed to be heading toward the Nine-Tails' location…
But along the way, he vanished."
Jiraiya looked around warily.
"Vanished? You mean he just left the battlefield?
Was it voluntary—or was he abducted?"
Three sharp questions.
His mind raced.
Did Itachi say something to make Sasuke leave?
Or had another hidden force set its sights on the Uchiha bloodline?
Sasuke was powerful. Talented.
A second coming of Uchiha pride.
If he bore hatred toward Itachi…
Then perhaps he was on the path to becoming another Nagato.
"He vanished without a trace," the jōnin explained further.
"No signs of combat. No footprints.
It was as if he walked to that spot… and then ceased to exist."
"Could be a space-time technique," Rasa interjected.
"Maybe even Naruto's."
Jiraiya opened his mouth to ask more—
But was interrupted by Ōnoki.
"Shouldn't our focus be on Uchiha Madara and Hyuga Ryosuke?"
The Tsuchikage's brow furrowed.
"When did the Hyuga clan become this powerful?"
He stared at the white-haired boy still standing in the wasteland.
"That repulsive force from earlier… does he also have the Rinnegan?"
"Your eyes…
They're different from the Hyuga I remember."
In the now quiet wasteland battlefield,
Uchiha Madara studied Hyuga Ryosuke.
He focused especially on Ryosuke's eyes.
Just as Nagato had described, they were nothing like a typical Byakugan.
There was no horror, no coldness.
Instead, they shimmered faintly—like starlight glowing in his pupils.
That was not the gaze of an ordinary Hyuga.
And now… they were different from when he fought Nagato.
Had they evolved?
Madara's own Sharingan had transcended limits.
He understood well—evolution was possible.
Especially between clans like the Hyuga and Uchiha, whose roots ran deep in shared bloodlines.
"Something definitely changed."
Ryosuke nodded, offering no further explanation.
"So, what do you plan to do next, Madara-san?"
As Madara observed him, Ryosuke scrutinized him just as intently.
That body…
Externally and internally, it was near-perfect.
Refined like steel forged in divine fire—strengthened a thousandfold.
Among all those Ryosuke had faced,
Uchiha Madara's body was one of the top three.
And within that form were terrifying forces.
The power of the Uchiha's eyes.
His own vast chakra.
And—most concerning of all—the power of Indra himself.
"It depends on which side you're on."
From Nagato's memories, Uchiha Madara had already begun to regard this younger shinobi as an equal—someone on the level of Senju Hashirama.
"I imagine someone like you has already figured out the ultimate goal of my plan, hasn't he?"
While it seemed the ninja of this era were growing weaker with each generation, there were always exceptions—those singular talents who stood apart from the rest. Just like himself and Hashirama.
But even so... he had always hated the Byakugan.
It had been the same since the beginning. Every time he faced a Hyuga, it felt like his entire being was exposed under that all-seeing gaze.
"Of course," Ryosuke replied, locking eyes with him.
"As for whether I'll stand with you or against you… that depends on the outcome of this battle."
"You want a duel?"
Madara's eyes gleamed, eager.
After decades in the afterlife, he longed to witness the true power of this era.
"I'm sorry," Ryosuke said, shaking his head.
"But I won't be your opponent."
He gestured to Shanks, who stood calmly by his side.
"He will be."
"…Hmph?"
Madara blinked, caught off guard. His expression stiffened.
"You're cautious," he muttered. "Planning to let someone else test my strength first?
You seem… more careful than I expected. Different from what I imagined."
But Ryosuke simply chuckled. "No, I think you misunderstand."
Crossing his arms, he casually looked Madara in the eye.
"Fighting you now wouldn't benefit me in the slightest."
---
That was the truth.
He had already absorbed almost half the ninja world's knowledge and had practiced much of it himself.
With the Rinnegan, he couldn't gain anything from fighting a Madara who hadn't yet reached the Six Paths level. There wasn't even any real pressure.
Shanks, on the other hand, came from another world entirely.
By clashing with him, Ryosuke could absorb unfamiliar training methods and philosophies—things that would fill the remaining gaps in his own growth.
"…I see."
Madara's stiff face slowly relaxed.
"Then… show me the source of that arrogance."
His voice turned hoarse with anticipation.
He wasn't angry. If anything, he was intrigued.
He wanted to see exactly what made this junior so confident.
---
In a flash, Uchiha Madara vanished.
The next instant, he reappeared—directly in front of Ryosuke and Shanks.
"Apologies," Madara muttered, emotionless as he threw a fist at Ryosuke.
But before the blow could connect, a dark blur moved.
A blade swung in the air.
"Step aside, weakling."
The Rinnegan flashed as Madara released a wave of raw force.
BOOM!
The repulsive energy exploded outward.
The ground cracked, and a storm-like shockwave burst from the impact zone.
A cyclone of invisible power spread in all directions, blasting everything within a hundred-mile radius—including members of the Allied Forces—dozens of meters into the air.
Yet Ryosuke remained untouched, arms crossed.
He stood isolated from the chaos, smiling calmly as he observed the clash.
He also felt it.
That heavy, suffocating pressure—domineering willpower.
"…Impressive."
Madara narrowed his eyes at the red-haired swordsman in front of him.
The man had blocked his attack.
Shanks stood tall, both hands gripping his long, unassuming sword.
His arms trembled slightly, and sweat trickled from his forehead, pooling at his feet.
He held firm, his will resisting the relentless force that tried to crush him.
"But… is this really your world's limit in physical strength?"
Shanks' gaze sharpened.
In the next instant, a piercing glint flashed through his eyes.
A wave of killing intent and sword energy erupted from his body—flowing through his grip and into the blade.
"Not good!"
Madara's instincts screamed.
He leapt back, abandoning any thoughts of blocking with bare hands.
But Shanks didn't pursue.
Instead, he raised his sword and swung it in a wide arc.
A roar echoed across the field.
A black panther, formed entirely from condensed sword energy and battle intent, leapt from the blade and tore through the battlefield.
The very earth split in its wake, sliced clean down the middle.
---
"Interesting…"
Madara's eyes lit up with battle lust.
He didn't dodge.
Instead, he stood firm, blue chakra exploding from every pore.
In an instant, his Susanoo erupted—
a towering, ethereal blue war god enveloped him in chakra armor.
The Susanoo mimicked his movements, its massive arm—over ten meters thick—raising to meet the incoming strike.
Screeeeeeeee—
The panther collided with Susanoo's hand.
The battlefield was consumed by the sound of shrieking metal and tearing air.
A grinding, piercing screech echoed across the wasteland, deafening all who heard it.
The two powers clashed violently—one forged from will and steel, the other from chakra and legend.
Madara stood firm—until finally, he frowned.
"His physical strength is abnormal," he muttered.
"And the way he fuses willpower into sword energy… it's unique."
But then—he scoffed.
"…That's all?"
His Susanoo chakra condensed tighter.
What once had only two arms now gained a partial torso.
With minimal effort, he crushed the panther with one glowing hand.
---
"Yeah?"
A calm voice answered him.
Before Madara could react, more sword slashes flew through the air.
Each one—sharper, faster, stronger than the last.
Bang!
The Susanoo launched into the sky, racing toward Shanks.
Despite the size, Madara's movement was blindingly fast.
He dodged one strike and unleashed a brutal punch.
The sheer wind pressure alone wailed like the cries of a thousand ghosts.
But Shanks didn't back down.
His instincts honed through years of war, he dodged cleanly and retaliated.
Underneath Susanoo's massive form,
the red-haired swordsman looked like a mere speck.
And yet—he held his ground.
Blade clashing with fist, he danced between blows, steel meeting chakra in a deadly ballet.
From afar, the battlefield had fallen into stunned silence.
"Mifune," someone whispered, unable to look away.
"This red-haired samurai… is he from your Land of Iron?"
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