Deep in a secluded valley—
Madara Uchiha lounged half-reclined on a massive chair, his mind replaying the image of Uchiha Seiji wielding Muramasa. The fierce arc of the blade, the sea of fire, the cold sharpness of his swordsmanship, and the icy gleam in his eyes…
That aura. That presence. In all the shinobi world, only one person had ever looked like that: his younger brother, Uchiha Izuna.
Especially the way Seiji used Muramasa with fire-style ninjutsu—Madara could almost believe he was back in the past, watching Izuna show off his flashy swordplay on a long-ago afternoon.
"Izuna… my dear brother…"
Memories of him surged up. Izuna, who had given his whole life to Madara. The brother who was his pillar in childhood, his strategist and sword-arm in war, who left no descendants, who gave up both Mangekyō Sharingan eyes… and who died in his prime, a sacrifice made for him.
Madara had conquered the ninja world as its unrivaled demon king. Yet when it came to Izuna, all he felt was guilt.
As a traditional Uchiha brother-obsessive who failed to protect his younger sibling, Madara carried the weight of Izuna's devotion like chains on his soul.
And now—after reading the Sage's stone tablet and awakening the Rinnegan—a terrifying thought hit him.
Why… did Seiji know Izuna's sword techniques?
When Madara left Konoha, he took nearly all of Izuna's scrolls and relics. The only thing he hadn't was Muramasa—a personal gift Izuna had given to a close friend.
And yet, here it was, in Seiji's hands. And Seiji wasn't just holding the blade—he was using Izuna's exact sword style.
That left one possibility.
Uchiha Seiji might be Izuna's reincarnation.
It wasn't even absurd. The Pure Land was real—souls didn't vanish. Impure World Reincarnation had proven that.
Madara's entire body shook. He closed his eyes, trembling with excitement. If Seiji truly was Izuna reborn… then maybe, just maybe, his plans needed to change.
In his mind, Seiji's silhouette blurred into Izuna's. They became one.
A sigh slipped from Madara's lips—equal parts joy and grief. It echoed through the valley, long and low.
Back at the training field—
Kakashi lay flat on the ground, stunned, staring at the blazing Muramasa and Seiji's frowning figure.
He'd fantasized about sparring with Seiji countless times. But never once had he imagined his older schoolmate was strong enough to withstand one of White Fang's slashes.
"So this… this is what a true genius looks like…"
His fists clenched tight. The pride of being "Konoha's Number One Prodigy" suddenly felt cheap, hollow—shame burned his chest.
Sakumo narrowed his eyes, studying Seiji carefully. An incredible youth. I can't see through him at all…
But Seiji wasn't paying them much attention.
Because the old monster Madara had just casually dropped a mountain of gold into his lap—literally rewarding him with the complete mastery of Fire Release ninjutsu.
The payout was just as insane as when he'd tricked Tobirama into "donating" before. Truly, Madara was a filthy-rich sponsor.
But the problem? Madara wasn't just some faceless livestream whale. He was a rabid stalker-fan—crashing straight from online to offline, hovering over Seiji's every move.
Unlike Tobirama, who was sealed inside him and could be managed, Seiji had no way to stop Madara from "watching the broadcast."
Fine, whatever. If the old man wants to watch, let him. But how the hell is he even doing it? Mayfly? Body-hopping into a White Zetsu?
Seiji sighed inwardly. Still, a full Fire Release package is a full Fire Release package. Can't exactly block the guy when he's footing the bill. Especially when he's got the Gedo Statue and a Zetsu army on top of that…
If resistance was impossible, then he'd just have to enjoy the perks.
What Seiji didn't know was that Madara's "enjoyment" had already spiraled into full-blown fantasy mode.
"Seiji," Sakumo approached with calm steps, guilt in his eyes. "My apologies."
His slash earlier had been too serious, too forceful. He hadn't meant to use a technique that powerful against children.
But Seiji's strength had surprised him—and for that, Sakumo had misjudged.
"No worries, Mr. Sakumo. I forgot Kakashi's still just a kid," Seiji replied lightly, glancing at Kakashi before turning back. "By the way, that move just now—was that a Hatake clan secret? Incredible strike."
Sakumo nodded. "It's my personal creation—channeling invisible chakra through sword swings. A blend of our ancestral style and my own understanding as a shinobi."
"Amazing." Seiji's gaze lingered on the gleaming White Fang short sword. Then he spoke with a polite grin:"Mr. Sakumo, it's rare for me to meet someone of your caliber. Since I'm lucky enough today… would you do me the honor of crossing blades? Just a few moves."
Kakashi's head snapped up. What?!
He was already pissed when Seiji brushed him off as a "kid." Now this guy wanted to challenge his father?
"Hey, Uchiha Seiji, you're not even a graduate yet—!" Kakashi started, but the words died in his throat. Even special jōnin would crumble under Sakumo's slash. And Seiji had stood against it.
Sakumo hesitated, then studied Muramasa again. Finally, he smiled. "I'd like that. Truth be told, I'm curious about your swordsmanship too."
"Then let's exchange a few moves."
"In the Hatake clan," Sakumo added, "we call that the most refined way two warriors can bond."
Seiji laughed heartily. "Too kind, sir. It's just a junior's reckless request to a senior."
He turned. "Kakashi, you'd better step back. Things might get… heated."
Kakashi froze, staring between his father and Seiji. Then, sulking, he shuffled to the sidelines, glaring.
Wait—wasn't I the one supposed to challenge Seiji? How the hell did this turn into Father dueling him instead?!
Kakashi fumed. He wasn't happy. Not at all.