For Uchiha Izuna, it was almost impossible not to feel the urge to kill Senju Tobirama—the very man who, in the original history, had taken his life.
But after inheriting the memories of the original Uchiha Izuna, he also understood one thing very clearly: right now, killing Tobirama was absolutely forbidden.
Tobirama was far too important to the Senju. If Izuna were to take his life, the Senju would inevitably throw everything they had into a full-scale assault. And with the Uchiha clan's current strength, there was simply no way they could withstand that kind of retaliation.
Therefore, Tobirama had to be kept alive—as a bargaining chip for negotiations. He must not be killed.
Gripping Tobirama by the collar like one might hold a rabbit, Izuna sped through the forest toward the battlefield at Mount Sōun.
They had barely covered a third of the distance when Tobirama stirred awake.
His eyes flicked open to see the trees racing past, blurring as they flew backward. His pupils constricted sharply. Glancing sideways, he caught sight of his captor and ground out five words between clenched teeth:
"Uchiha Izuna!"
"Don't bother trying to escape with the Flying Thunder God," Izuna said evenly, never breaking stride as he darted from branch to branch with Tobirama dangling in his grip. "I've already ordered my men to destroy all of your marked kunai."
"So those new eyes… that's the source of your new power, isn't it?" Tobirama's voice was calm, but his mind was racing. He knew there was no escape now. The Uchiha would undoubtedly use him as leverage in negotiations with his clan. If he couldn't change the outcome, then at the very least, he could try to draw some information out.
"You talk too much. That's not really like you," Izuna interrupted suddenly.
"…What?" Tobirama frowned, not understanding the remark.
Izuna only smirked faintly at the corner of his lips. "Heh…" He quickened his pace, carrying his prisoner toward the battlefield.
Mount Sōun Battlefield.
On one side, the Uchiha, their banners marked with the fan of fire. On the other, the Senju, whose clan was famed for its overwhelming vitality and chakra reserves.
Once again, the two most powerful clans of the Warring States period clashed. It was a scene that had repeated for centuries, as though without end.
Explosions shook the ground in endless succession—Fire Release, Water Release, Lightning Release… jutsu of every element roared across the battlefield, filling it with cries of the wounded and the silence of the dead.
Most of the field was chaotic, a swirl of combatants locked in deadly skirmishes. But there were two areas where the chaos stopped—where only duels raged.
The reason was simple. The men fighting in those two places stood at a level far beyond the rest. No one dared approach. To stumble too close would mean instant death.
In one corner clashed the two men who would later be remembered as the Twin Gods of the Shinobi World—Uchiha Madara and Senju Hashirama.
In the other, two veterans of unmatched skill: Uchiha Takeya, the uncle of Madara and Izuna, and Senju Yūken, cousin to Senju Butsuma, the father of Hashirama and Tobirama. To Hashirama and Tobirama, Yūken was "Uncle."
Both Takeya and Yūken were already over forty, long past the years of growth. But they stood now at the true peak of their shinobi lives, honed by decades of war.
"Haah!"
Still only in his early twenties, Hashirama roared as his right fist erupted with blazing blue chakra that flared like fire. He leapt high, bringing his punch down on Madara with terrifying force.
This was the very foundation of the legendary superhuman strength that Tsunade would one day inherit. It was only overshadowed in history because Hashirama's Wood Release was so overwhelmingly dominant that it concealed how monstrous his raw power truly was.
Madara swung his war fan up across his chest to block.
Clang!!
The impact rang out like an explosion. The rock beneath Madara's feet shattered instantly, his legs driven half a meter into the ground.
His Sharingan spun furiously, tomoe blurring, as his free hand flew into a seal.
"Fire Release: Dragon Flame Song Technique!"
Four roaring dragon heads of flame erupted from his mouth, surging forward almost point-blank toward Hashirama.
Hashirama's eyes sharpened. Chakra burst into his left hand, and with a single mighty swing, he shattered the blazing dragons apart.
Madara took the chance to leap back, putting distance between them.
"Madara, stop this madness," Hashirama urged. "The outcome of this battle is already clear."
"In your dreams!" Madara spat coldly.
But even as he said it, doubt gnawed at his mind. Without these new eyes, I can't beat him. I don't want to admit it… but it's the truth. Still…
His thoughts flicked back to Izuna's words before the battle: "Brother, unless there's no other choice, don't use the Mangekyō."
Madara didn't yet understand the price of the Mangekyō. And even if he had, with his temperament, he would have used it regardless. The only reason he had held back this long was Izuna's plea—the voice of his closest kin.
A dark figure flickered to his back. It was Uchiha Takeya, blood running from his forehead down his cheek and jaw, though he still stood tall, back-to-back with his nephew.
"Madara… you holding up?" he asked, eyes narrowed.
"I'm fine," Madara answered, then lowered his voice. "But have you noticed? Tobirama isn't here…"
Even if he hadn't yet reached his full prime, Tobirama was still one of the Senju's top five strongest shinobi—there was no reason he should be absent from a battle of this scale.
Not far away, the Senju were having a similar conversation.
"Uncle Yūken," Hashirama said, frowning. "It's strange… I haven't seen Izuna on the battlefield."
"It is strange," Yūken agreed, his voice confident, "but it doesn't matter. The tide is in our favor. Once Tobirama's ambush succeeds, we can finally end this endless war between our clans."
Yūken had absolute faith in Tobirama's abilities.
Tobirama had always been hailed as the greatest sensor ninja the Senju had ever produced. Simply standing on a battlefield, he could gauge enemy numbers and positions.
And now, with the terrifying new jutsu he had developed—the Flying Thunder God—Yūken was certain Tobirama could infiltrate even the most fortified Uchiha defenses without challenge.
His eyes gleamed with confidence as he tightened his grip on his blade. "Hashirama, push harder. If we break through their front lines and coordinate with Tobirama's strike, this war will leave the Uchiha crippled beyond recovery."
"…Fine."
Hashirama, soft-hearted though he was, was no fool. He would still fight with full strength—though he would spare surrendering Uchiha when possible.
On the opposite side, Takeya coughed harshly, blood spilling down his chin.
Madara's eyes widened. "Are you all right?!"
"It's nothing," Takeya said, wiping the blood away. "Just an old wound reopened. But don't worry—Yūken's not much better off."
Madara scanned the battlefield, jaw tight, silver teeth clenched. Damn it… there's no choice left. Forgive me, Izuna!
His three-tomoe Sharingan spun wildly, the tomoe merging together—three curved shapes forming a complete circle.
The Mangekyō Sharingan awakened.