After being casually dismissed with a "Let's see how you perform" by Tajima, Gin walked down the corridor of the Uchiha estate with a depressed look on his face.
"Hey, Hikari, are you really okay with this?" he asked quietly, slipping the map into the bag slung behind him and turning to the girl silently following him.
"As long as I'm with Aniue, anything is fine."
The girl fanned her flushed face. The summer heat was unbearable, and she had been cloaked for too long. Her delicate face was now tinted with a lovely shade of red from the heat.
"It really is too hot. I'll treat you to some shaved ice later," Gin promised, tugging at his short-sleeved shirt. Even he felt the sweltering heat—Hikari must be suffering even more. He remembered an acquaintance who ran a dessert shop nearby and figured it was the perfect excuse to stop by.
Upon hearing that, Hikari's tense expression eased, and she nodded with a gentle smile.
Just then, a shadowy figure stepped from around the corner of the hallway.
"Oh? Cousin, something up?" Gin immediately recognized who had been waiting for him and waved enthusiastically at the cold-faced Madara.
"I want to see that jutsu of yours."
Never one for pleasantries, Madara cut straight to the point. His cold expression left no room for refusal.
"Tch, not like I can say no. But…" Gin knew there was no escape but still rolled his dead-fish eyes in protest.
"I agree."
Gin's usual conditions were food, booze, brothels, and songs—things Madara had long grown used to. Without even thinking, he nodded.
Well, that's why I love rich friends like you, Gin thought as he raised an eyebrow and gestured for Madara to lead the way.
They arrived at the training grounds of the estate. Gin's younger cousin, who had been dragged away earlier, now lay limp on the ground like a dead dog. The sight of the pitiful scene made Gin click his tongue.
"Oi, Izuna's still growing. You can't just keep training him in taijutsu like this. What if it stunts his growth?" Gin said in mock pain, shaking his head.
Upon hearing this, Izuna—who had been pretending to be unconscious—felt a warm spark in his heart. There really are good people in this world, he thought.
"You should mix in more genjutsu-focused training during the breaks. As a genius of the Uchiha, he can't afford to be one-dimensional. Train the body and the mind—only then can you truly grow," Gin continued with an exaggeratedly wise tone.
Madara's eyes lit up at the sound logic, and he turned to look at Izuna with a far more sinister gaze.
Yes, Izuna had become too reliant on his Sharingan. If he ever faced someone crafty, he'd be helpless.
Izuna, lying on the ground, trembled as a sudden, very bad feeling rose within him.
"Let's go. Show me how your jutsu differs from Hashirama's."
Back to the matter at hand, Madara was all battle intent, raising his training wooden sword like a warlord ready for blood.
"Sigh, you're hopeless. Fine, but just a peek, okay?" Gin sighed. He didn't want this to delay his ice date with Hikari. He clapped his hands, and his aura suddenly shifted.
A faint green glow emerged from his palms as he channeled a small portion of chakra. Madara's expression changed instantly.
That pressure… it's almost the same as Hashirama's. No, it might be stronger.
"Come at me!"
Madara's own aura surged, his chakra thick and oppressive. With his wooden sword pointed forward, he stood ready.
"I'm coming in~ prison style~"
Thick wooden vines burst from the ground and twisted through the air like tentacles, wrapping toward Madara from all directions.
Of course.
Seeing the familiar jutsu, Madara felt a wave of frustration. That humiliation he had experienced before—it was back.
He and Hashirama had long fought on even terms. Ever since he awakened the three-tomoe Sharingan, he had been gaining the upper hand. But then, Hashirama awakened this strange new power.
The Mokuton.
A jutsu that could summon endless vines that both attacked and drained chakra. If caught, there was no escape.
Even Madara's vaunted Katon (Fire Release) techniques were useless against Hashirama's Mokuton. In recent battles, Madara had started to fall behind—something he took very personally.
Now, facing Gin's version, Madara wasn't shaken. He had experience fighting this.
He activated his Sharingan and dodged the branches skillfully, weaving between them with precise movements. Getting close to the user was his goal.
"This is your strategy?"
Gin watched Madara close in without panic. He smirked and subtly increased his chakra output.
"I don't know if that Senju brat was going easy on you, but close combat with a Mokuton user? Not your best choice."
Gin's words annoyed Madara. Just as he brought the wooden blade down hard, more vines shot from Gin's body—thick, sharp, and fast.
Mokuton: Bakusō no Jutsu (Exploding Spear Technique)
Numerous wooden spikes launched from Gin's body. They caught Madara mid-swing, and though Gin kept them soft and flexible, they now wrapped around Madara like a nest of squirming octopus limbs.
"Let me go!"
For the first time, Madara's ice-cold mask cracked into visible panic.
Hashirama would at least talk before choking him out. Gin, on the other hand, showed no such restraint.
He could feel his chakra draining rapidly.
But that wasn't the real reason for his fear.
"Hehehe… didn't know Mokuton could be used like this, huh?"
Gin guided the vines inside Madara's clothes. They slithered along his skin, poking and probing with ticklish precision. The sensation turned Madara's face green.
He reflexively clenched every muscle.
"Oh? Oh! Ohhh~~~"
Watching the scene, Hikari and Izuna stood in utter disbelief.
Izuna especially—seeing his stoic older brother so violated—was traumatized to the core.
Hikari's sweet face flushed red, whether from the heat or what she was witnessing was unclear. Her lips parted in uncontrollable gasps of "Oh… oh… oh…"
"I surrender! I surrender!!"
Madara couldn't take it anymore. A few of those vines were way too suspicious. Between pride and chastity, he chose to yield.
"Huh? That's it? You're done already?"
Gin was genuinely disappointed. If Madara couldn't handle this, how was he going to fight Hashirama and his full-powered wooden mecha in the future?
He quickly released the jutsu. He didn't want Madara developing trauma around Mokuton—one glance at Hashirama's jutsu in the future, and he might pass out.
"You okay, bro? I'm still new at this. Might've lost control a little," Gin said innocently, pretending none of that ever happened.
"…Why is your Mokuton so different from Hashirama's?"
Madara sat on the ground, chakra nearly depleted, body tingling. He ground his teeth and asked through the strain.
"Hehehe. So in terms of destructive power, which of us is stronger?" Gin asked, fishing for praise.
"Hmm… purely physical damage-wise, you're slightly weaker than Hashirama, but…"
Gin raised a brow. Was Madara seriously analyzing this?
"But what?"
"I think your Mokuton… is better suited for interrogation. You'd thrive in the torture division."
The moment Madara remembered the feeling of those vines caressing his skin, cold sweat poured down. His every pore tensed up.
After all, Gin's Mokuton could change size. Adaptable in every… situation.
Madara's comment only cemented Gin's future career path in his mind.
"Hehehe… guess I really was born to work in the dungeon!"
(End of Chapter)
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