Year 23
After Kaito's birth, the air around the Fukashi household softened. Laughter echoed through the halls, mealtime conversations sparkled with energy, and a calm kind of joy settled into daily routine, a far cry from the tension of previous years.
A few days later, Shinichi approached his father.
"You should resume your duties, Father," he said calmly. "Train and grow stronger. I'll be fine on my own."
Fukashi hesitated. At thirthy-one, he already reached the threshold of Kage-level strength – somewhere between the skill of young Tobirama and Izuna. Though not the equal of his legendary sensei during his youth or even Tobirama at his peak, he remained one of the few elite shinobi within the village. Only Uchiha Sosuke, a distant cousin and deputy clan leader, could truly match him within the clan.
With a quiet nod, Fukashi agreed. He resumed his village assignments and personal training, though he still joined Shinichi during his free times, knowing full well that his son was punctual and tireless and would never neglect his discipline.
Minami, meanwhile, was rediscovering the chaos and beauty of motherhood.
Raising Shinichi had once seemed effortless. Baby Shin-chan rarely cried, always gestured clearly at what he wanted, and somehow anticipated needs before they became demands. She had once smugly thought parenting complaints were just dramatics.
Then came Kaito.
For the first time, Minami truly understood what her friends meant by sleepless nights, unpredictable moods, and emotional whirlwinds. Still, she bore it with grace and with quiet help from Shinichi, who often stepped in to give her moments of rest.
One day, exhausted beyond measure, Minami entrusted Kaito to Shinichi and collapsed into sleep. Ten hours passed. When she awoke in panic, she stumbled into the dining room.
And there was Shinichi.
Kaito tied gently to his back, asleep and breathing softly, Shinichi stirred milk powder into a bottle with delicate care, his expression focused and serene.
Minami stood frozen. Then she squealed internally. Her Sharingan activated in an instant, not for combat, but to capture the moment eternally in her memory palace.
"Too adorable," she muttered while drooling slightly.
Days later, she unapologetically placed several of her closest friends into genjutsu, not maliciously, just to proudly flaunt the image of her baby boy carrying her littlest one. None objected. Most Uchiha mothers simply gasped and cooed in awe at the scene, accepting the illusion like it was a treasured photograph.
***
While peace bloomed within the Uchiha household and Konoha by extension, far to the north in the desolate reaches of the Country of Iron, shadows stirred.
Unlike the shinobi nations that embraced village systems and mercenary ninjas, the Daimyo of Iron clung to tradition rejecting the use of ninja for missions and investing all resources into samurai legions. Yet even this bastion of order had been quietly twisted by a solitary, unseen force.
It had been eight years since Uchiha Madara's infamous defection from Konoha.
In that time, this presence had become myth. Rumors flared like embers, flickering, then vanishing into smoke. Senju Hashirama and Tobirama tracked every whisper, but each time they arrived, Madara had already vanished. At best, they found dazed souls lost in genjutsu's haze.
He had become more than a rogue shinobi. He was now known as two things: the Ninja Shura and the Ghost of Uchiha.
Madara used the chaos of the post-village era, the vacuum between wandering clans and newly centralized villages, to recruit. While nations scrambled to consolidate power, many clans refused allegiance, fueling bloodshed. Madara leveraged this discord, capturing Kekkei Gekai wielders and transporting them to a hidden base deep in the graveyard mountains of Country of Iron.
There, among giant skeletons buried beneath ancient forests, he built his laboratory. Through layers of genjutsu, he manipulated the daimyo and his courts and samurai guards – diverting funds and manpower to construct an empire of experiments.
His ambition: to merge Yin and Yang chakra at its peak – Senju vitality and Uchiha insight – guided by revelations from the Uchiha Stone Tablet beneath the Naka Shrine. He sought not just fusion, but transcendence.
For two years, he tested elemental Kekkei genkai combinations. He made breakthroughs in chakra mixing but grew disillusioned.
"These so-called bloodline limits… are merely perfected ratios of elemental chakra,' he scoffed. "Inherited techniques, not true evolution."
Though, his attempts to recreate Mokuton through water-earth ratio manipulations failed spectacularly. He posited two theories: 1. Mokuton was a rare Kekkei Tota, requiring water, earth, and Yang – nearly impossible to synthesize without divine fortune. 2. Mokuton was a true bloodline miracle, appearing in a single chosen Senju once every few generations – a power recycled by unknown means, not inherited.
Undeterred, Madara pivoted to a new domain: Kekkei Genkai tied to human physiology. This path took five years.
What he found was astonishing.
Unlike elemental bloodlines, physical genetic Kekkei Genkai were compatible, intermixing, evolving, even dominating one another. A hidden hierarchy emerged. Some traits suppressed others.
When Madara tested Uchiha and Kaguya bloodlines, the result was explosive. The two clashed violently. Yet in the end, Uchiha's will overwhelmed Kaguya's bone-manipulating might.
His conclusion: either Uchiha and Senju truly possessed the superior genetic flame, or his own blood was simply purer than any Kaguya specimen he had found.
In the final years, he synthesized Yin and Yang chakra creating a test subject with balanced traits. The result wasn't extraordinary, but the method… it was a breakthrough. Madara had now developed a technique to harmonize opposing chakra natures.
Finally, he turned to the Uchiha Tablet again, each word now etched into his mind.
Peace could not be achieved through politics or compromise. Hashirama's One Nation One Village system had not offered peace, only illusion. Madara believed the Sage of Six Path and the Tablet's truths were the only path forward. He no longer viewed himself as deceived.
He was chosen.
His final battle with Hashirama would decide the world's fate. But before the curtain rose.
He would enjoy his 'dances' with the foolish Shodai for one last time.
***
Year 23,
Winter arrived in the outskirts of Konoha, but no snow had yet fallen. The forest lay barren and skeletal brown and gray trunks stretching endlessly, lifeless yet watchful.
Perched a top a thick branch stood a man draped in the high-collared Uchiha mantle, crimson armor gleaming with countless metal plates. A light brown double-circle Gunbai rested on his back, and a chained sickle hung from his left hand. He stood motionless, then began to release a torrent of wild, untamed chakra imbued with lethal battle intent.
It was a call.
A challenge.
A dance invitation for his old friend.
***
Within Hokage building.
Senju Hashirama, Tobirama, and the heads of the Sarutobi and Shimura clans, Sasuke and Shien, were mid-discussion. Though the Senju and Uchiha had jointly founded Konoha, no Uchiha were present. Hashirama still held out hope for Madara's return, leaving the seat to his right eternally empty. Tobirama, ever more the realist, barred other Uchiha from joining, citing the lack of an active clan head, knowing fully well that no Uchiha dared claim leadership while Madara still lived.
Suddenly, an oppressive chakra wave engulfed the entire village. Every corner of Konoha felt it, suffocating Yin energy and the bloodthirst of a warrior who had lived too long.
Without hesitation, Tobirama activated his Hiraishin, flashing away with Hashirama.
***
Fukashi's household.
Fukashi, Minami, and Shinichi were enjoying tea, basking in the warmth of family. Shinichi gently rocked baby Kaito in his cradle, his newfound peace radiating in the room. Both parents watched with activated sharingan, preserving every moment in memory.
Shinichi had changed softer, expressive, and unburdened by Imperial Knight's hardened path.
Buth then the pressure descended.
Kaito wailed, overwhelmed by the raw chakra pulsing through the air. Sweat trickled down the adults' brows. Their eyes flared red in reflex, easing the suppression but only barely.
They knew this presence.
This wasn't just a chakra signature; it was a declaration of superiority. The Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan's Yin chakra exerted dominance over all Uchiha beneath its purity.
"Sensei…! Minami… I must go."
With Minami's understanding nod mixed with concern, Fukahsi vanished.
Shinichi stayed, cradling Kaito and grounding himself. Minami wrapped them both in an embrace, shielding her family from the storm outside.
***
Across the village, all Uchiha, civilian and shinobi, felt the instinctual pull to submit. None could resist. This was Madara's will made manifest, a bloodline pressure only achievable through matured Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan eyes forged in war.
***
Madara sat upon his tree perch, chakra now restrained. He stabbed his sickle into the branch, resting one leg lazily as he supported his chin with his wrist. His gaze drifted, expression unreadable.
Flickers of chakra approached. Madara set his attention and momentum on these small flies. Lesser signatures faltered, ninjas stumbled mid-body flicker as their will dissolved; their chakra signatures became weak and faint like an incense stick that is about to be burnt out.
He did not want anyone to disturb his dance with Hashirama.
And then, two flames.
One blazing with vitality and command. The other sharp and efficient.
Hashirama and Tobirama.
The others vanished – no doubt whisked away by Tobirama's Hiraishin.
Madara closed his eyes.
The wind whispered through the branches. He didn't feel cold.
He felt… haunted
He remembered their first meeting as boys dreaming of peace atop the river's edge. He remembered skipping stones with Hashirama. Laughing, arguing, and dreaming together.
And then the battlefield.
Countless Uchiha corpses. Tobirama's ruthlessness. His clan's growing resentment.
Peace was meant to be real.
Konoha was supposed to be the solution.
Yet the village had twisted into a hierarchy, a structure that slolwly betrayed the Uchiha. No seat at the table. No voice in decisions. Tobirama's schemes and suspicions, the silent marginalization.
Madara had waited, advocated, and believed.
Then he watched as his clan ignorantly suffered – silenced under the guise of unity. He watched as Hashirama offered love but failed to shield them.
Madara clenched his fist.
"The dream we built.. was never mine to keep."
The Uchiha Tablet spoke of revolution. Of destiny. Of salvation from suffering.
Now, he would test its truth. He would see if one final dance with his dearest friend could burn away the deceit and carve a new world from its ashes.
Madara smirked as he opened his eyes.
No more ghosts.
Only the rhythm of battle.
He rose slowly, limbs cracking with anticipation.
"HASHIRAMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!"
***
Armor donned, chakra blazing, the two rushed toward the epicenter.
They found unconscious shinobi, Hyuga, Inuzuka, and Aburame, all collapsed. Their patrol formation had failed before the sheer weight of Madara's Yin chakra.
"Tobirama, take them. Quickly."
"But… Ani-ja–"
"I won't risk your life in this battle."
Tobirama's eyes narrowed. After a beat of silence, he vanished.
Hashirama turned to the forest.
'Madara…. Were you trying to kill them? Are you really breaking your ties with the village? Our dream?'
Just now, the life signs of three patrol ninjas were about to be extinguished. The pressure of malicious intent of Madara alone was enough to achieve this feat. Senju Hashirama did not want to believe that Madara has fully turned his back on him.
Just like the time when they first formed Konoha after countless battle. He convinced himself, that Madara can be 'convinced' and returned back to Konoha next to him.
With these thoughts Hashirama rushed towards Madara.
As he got closer his heart beat heavily, not with fear, but hope. Madara still wore the red armor he had gifted him. A gesture. A memory.
'There's still a chance… He hasn't let go completely.'
Hashirama smiled.
Madara returned the smile – with one filled with bloodlust.
This time, the dance would begin anew.