Chapter 114: Tobirama: Testing "The Izuna Method" on the Uchiha
The Uchiha Compound. Internal Training Grounds.
Tobirama Senju—now known as Seisui Uchiha—held his practice katana loosely at
his side, flicking the blade into a casual, elegant spin.
Standing across from him was Yashiro Uchiha, a veteran Three-Tomoe Jonin who had
been a mainstay of the Police Force for over a decade.
Seisui had been living in the Uchiha compound for two months now. In that short
time, between his striking appearance and his staggering talent, he had become a
household name within the clan. He had secured the goodwill of nearly every
faction.
He looked like Izuna, he fought like a god, and he carried that signature Uchiha
"Edge"—yet he was surprisingly respectful to his elders and kind to the
children.
He often spent his afternoons bringing milk and supplies to the clan's retired
veterans, sitting with them for hours to listen to stories of the Warring States
period. He looked genuinely mesmerized by the tales of the Uchiha's ancient
glory.
The younger generation found the "Old War Stories" boring, but Seisui couldn't
get enough.
In reality, Tobirama was just doing clinical research. He was fascinated by how
Madara was actually perceived within the clan and what the day-to-day dynamic
between Madara and Izuna had been.
Was it like me and Hashirama? he wondered.
He even asked subtle, probing questions. "Why did Lord Izuna only court women
from outside the clan?"
The answer, whispered by a cackling old veteran, was that Izuna had once been
nearly blown up by a "Yandere" Uchiha woman during a lovers' quarrel and had
been traumatized ever since.
I knew it, Tobirama thought. Red-eyed women are a tactical hazard.
To the rest of the clan, Seisui's behavior was the ultimate proof of a "Lost
Son" finally finding his roots. He wasn't just a survivor; he was a patriot.
"Seisui, don't hold back! Show us your limit!"
Yashiro Uchiha shouted boisterously. "Sparring with Academy brats is beneath
you. If Elder Isshin hadn't insisted you build 'Village Rapport' first, I would
have signed you into the Police Force weeks ago!"
"The Force is our territory. The pay is great, and the Hokage just expanded our
patrol roster. There's an opening for a squad leader—I'm sure no one would
object to a talent like yours taking the seat!"
Tobirama nodded, though he narrowed his eyes.
Elder Isshin shot Yashiro a glare. In the Elder's mind, the pay raises were
"Sugar-Coated Bullets." He was terrified that the clan would grow fat and lazy
drinking tea at the Police Force, losing the bloodlust that made them Uchiha.
"I appreciate the offer, Brother Yashiro," Seisui said, a thin smile forming.
"But in our clan, strength is the only currency that matters. I should prove I'm
worth the paycheck first, right?"
"I should warn you, though... my style is difficult to handle."
Yashiro laughed. "Brat, I'm a Three-Tomoe veteran! The Elder brought us here
specifically to push you to your limit! If you hold back out of 'politeness,'
you're just being arrogant!"
Tobirama didn't argue. He simply nodded.
Yashiro's eyes narrowed. He's too calm. Young geniuses usually have a bit of
fire, but this kid's arrogance is rooted in his bones. He thinks he's already
better than a Jonin?
Time for a reality check, kid.
Yashiro's eyes flared crimson as three black dots manifested. He gathered chakra
in his soles and lunged. He didn't use a flashy jutsu; he used the Uchiha-Style
Blade: First Strike.
To the watching crowd, Yashiro was a blur of lethal intent.
But in Seisui's vision, the world slowed down.
This teenage vessel hadn't reached its physical peak yet, but it was a perfect
hybrid. It combined Tobirama's superhuman neurological reflexes with Izuna's
innate spatial awareness.
"A classic opening," Tobirama mused.
He had seen this exact strike a thousand times on the battlefields of his youth.
With the foresight of a man who had fought the original masters, Seisui stepped
in rather than back. He placed his own blade precisely at the pivot point of
Yashiro's arm, intercepting the momentum before it could peak.
CLANG.
The blades locked. Yashiro felt a jarring, sickening vibration run up his arm.
He felt like he had tried to sneeze but had been punched in the nose instead—the
momentum was there, but the outlet was blocked.
Seisui didn't stop. He flowed around the lock, his wooden blade moving like a
silken ribbon, sticking to Yashiro like a shadow.
Yashiro panicked, leaping back and trying to weave a hand sign with his free
hand.
"Too slow," Seisui smirked.
He was using the "Izuna Method."
Tobirama had once called Izuna Uchiha a "Red-Eyed Mad Dog." It wasn't an insult;
it was a tactical description. Izuna's style relied on overwhelming, high-speed
Body Flickers and constant close-quarters pressure. He never gave an opponent
the one or two seconds required to finish a hand sign. He bit and tore at your
rhythm until you drowned.
Tobirama had spent his entire life inventing counters to this style—the Flying
Raijin was the ultimate "Stay-Away" jutsu. But now, he was the one dealing the
pressure.
Seisui's blade flickered, striking Yashiro's knuckles just as his fingers tried
to form the 'Tiger' seal.
"Damn! How is he this fast?" Yashiro hissed, forced to abandon the jutsu to
defend his throat. Who taught him this? He fights like a savage!
"Too many signs, Brother!"
Seisui laughed—a boisterous, arrogant sound. He didn't slow down. "In CQC, four
signs is the limit! If you need more than that, you should stay in the back with
the support units!"
"You clearly haven't been reading the 'Vanguard Manuals' Lord Izuna wrote!"
Yashiro's heart hammered. I've read them! But the 'Young Master's' style
requires 100% reaction speed! Only a freak can pull off that kind of relentless
assault!
Yashiro grit his teeth, focusing every ounce of his Three-Tomoe perception into
the blade-clash.
Now!
Yashiro found his opening. Following the line of the blades, his eyes locked
onto Seisui's.
In a duel between Uchiha, an eye-lock was the end. Ocular power was absolute. A
Two-Tomoe user could never hope to resist the spiritual pressure of a
Three-Tomoe master.
Yashiro flooded his eyes with chakra, preparing to paralyze the boy with a
standard Genjutsu.
But as their gazes met, Seisui didn't flinch. In fact, his smirk widened.
Yashiro didn't know that even before he had a Sharingan, Tobirama Senju had
undergone "Anti-Uchiha" sensory training for years. His spiritual resistance was
high enough to ignore a Mangekyō for several seconds. A standard three-tomoe
glare was like a mild breeze against an iron mountain.
Seisui's own Two-Tomoe eyes began to spin with a violent, mocking energy.
"My turn."
He didn't just resist; he counter-projected. Using his massive soul-strength, he
stalled Yashiro's brain for a single, critical millisecond.
GOT YOU.
Seisui caught the opening. He flicked his blade, sending Yashiro's katana
spinning into the air. It arced through the sky, reflecting the sun before
clattering onto the stone floor.
"I yield... Brother Yashiro."
Seisui walked over, picked up the fallen blade, and handed it back to the
stunned veteran with a polite, traditional "Reconciliation Sign."
"You were going easy on me because of my age. You didn't use your full ocular
pressure. Thank you for the lesson."
Yashiro scratched his head, his face a mix of embarrassment and awe.
He had intended to be the teacher today. He had planned a big speech about
"Uchiha Pride." Being disarmed by a kid who hadn't even finished puberty was a
massive blow to his ego.
But looking at the boy's respectful smile and hearing his "Face-saving" excuse,
Yashiro's frustration vanished.
"Don't you dare say that, Seisui!"
"A win is a win! That was a masterpiece of Taijutsu. I haven't seen that kind of
'soul' in a blade since I was a boy. You've truly captured the essence of the
Young Master!"
Yashiro gave a massive thumbs-up to the crowd. "Did you see that? He's not just
a prodigy! He's a tactical reincarnation!"
Tobirama feigned an embarrassed blush, scratching his head. Idiots. Give them a
little 'Face' and a compliment, and they'll follow you to the moon.
The 'Police Force' has turned them into sheep. Their Three-Tomoe users are a
joke compared to the Sengoku era. They've lost their edge. I need to restructure
their training entirely—it's my duty to the Leaf to sharpen this blade.
Tobirama's "Internal Audit" of the clan was merciless. He saw their flaws like
cracks in a mirror.
"Brother! That was incredible!" Shisui cheered, his voice a literal battle-cry
of support.
Obito was equally hyped, waving his arms around. "DID YOU SEE THAT?! THAT'S MY
NII-SAN! HE'S UNSTOPPABLE!"
Shisui shot Obito another look. Your brother? He's MY brother! But he stayed
silent, too caught up in the pride of the moment.
Isshin Uchiha stood by the wall, his eyes moist with unshed tears. He didn't
care about the technical details. He saw the image.
Seisui standing over a defeated veteran, the wind catching his black-and-silver
hair, those red eyes glowing with confidence...
The 'Ancestral Blessing' is real! Isshin thought. Lord Izuna... you've come back
to us! You've answered our prayers!
In the Mountains' Graveyard.
Madara Uchiha leaned forward, his Rinnegan eyes fixed on the "Zetsu-stream."
He was actually excited. This was better than any show he'd ever seen.
The way that boy moved... the way he managed the distance... it was haunting.
"Finally... an Uchiha with a brain," Madara rasped.
He ignored Obito's "Grandpa" yelling on the screen. He only had eyes for Seisui.
"The way he handled the disarm... it was purely logical. He didn't rely on raw
power; he relied on the opponent's rhythm. That's not a child's skill set."
Madara felt a pang of nostalgia. He remembered Izuna teaching him that exact
counter.
"I need to meet this boy," Madara whispered. "He's more than a candidate. He's a
relic."
Back at the Field.
Fugaku Uchiha leaped into the center of the ring. He looked at the gathered
veterans and let out a sharp, commanding huff.
"Enough tea and talk! You veterans have grown soft! Looking at a Sharingan is
one thing, but standing against a real warrior is another!"
"Seisui, you used the 'Young Master's' style to beat Yashiro."
Fugaku cracked his knuckles, a predatory grin on his face. He wanted to see if
the "Miracle" was real.
"How about I use the Great Patriarch's (Madara's) style and see if you can
handle the 'Battlefield Rose'?"
Tobirama felt a surge of adrenaline. His eyes locked onto Fugaku's.
"Fugaku-sama... you admire the Great Patriarch?" Seisui asked, his voice taking
on a weight that silenced the room.
"I do as well. In fact... I find his Spirit to be the only thing worth following
in this world."
☆☆☆
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