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As Second Tsuchikage 28
🕑 Added 2025-07-19 16:33:26 +0000 UTCChapter 28: Even the Strongest in the Shinobi World Can Cry?
Buzz...!
A black pillar of light tore through the air, obliterating Susanoo’s massive sword and driving straight toward Madara Uchiha. For a moment, he stood there, completely stunned. The Particle Style beam surged like a force of nature, not merely destroying what it touched but erasing it as though it had never existed.
Madara’s Susanoo, the embodiment of his pride and power, vanished beneath the beam, wiped away so cleanly that not even debris remained. The entire structure was split down the middle in an instant. The edges of the cut gleamed with unnatural precision, as if the beam were a hot blade slicing through wax.
He stared directly at the oncoming light. His jaw tightened. And then, something broke across his face. It was panic.
Not the controlled, tactical alarm of a seasoned warrior, but pure, unfiltered fear. It was the first time in his life he had felt something so raw. For the first time, he was afraid. He might actually die here.
Until now, the only person he believed capable of ending him was Hashirama. But now, he realized he may have made a grave mistake. Maybe he should have eliminated Mū the moment they met.
Letting him live had led to this, and by the time that realization struck, it was already too late. There was no time to regret. Madara made the only move he had left.
He gave up Susanoo. He abandoned the armor to protect the mind.
...
Far from the battle, Hashirama Senju roamed the continent in pursuit of the Tailed Beasts. His senses extended far and wide, seeking traces of their chakra. But the moment he stepped into the Land of Waterfalls, he felt a violent surge that made him stop in his tracks.
“What’s going on?” he muttered, brow creasing as he looked up to see a black column rising ominously into the sky.
He instantly honed his chakra sensing. What he found left him staggered.
“...What?!” Madara’s chakra. That overwhelming, unmistakable presence, it was him. Hashirama’s eyes widened with astonishment, followed by an almost boyish joy. Could it be? Had Madara truly been alive this whole time, hiding away in secret? If so, this was no mere mission anymore. He had set out to gather the Tailed Beasts, but fate had thrown him something far more precious.
He couldn’t let this chance go. If Madara was still alive, then there was hope. They could be together again. He could bring him home.
Hashirama adjusted his focus to pinpoint the exact location, but the discovery only deepened the shock. Madara wasn’t alone. Tobirama’s chakra was there too and the Uzumaki clan? Confusion swept over him like a tide. Was this some sort of gathering no one had told him about? His face turned grim. Or could it be something worse?
Was Tobirama fighting Madara?
Why would the Uzumaki be involved?
Had his brother gone rogue to chase Madara down all this time?
Without a moment’s hesitation, Hashirama surged toward the battlefield with everything he had.
...
“Now’s our chance!”
“Water Style: Hard Whirlpool Water Blade!”
With Susanoo no longer shielding him, Madara was vulnerable. Tobirama, known across the shinobi world as the fastest, didn’t waste the opportunity. In a flash, he struck. His blade of spiraling water slammed into Madara’s lower back, striking with pinpoint accuracy.
Pfft! Blood sprayed from Madara’s mouth as his body jerked forward. He scrambled to gather chakra, trying to reconstruct even the skeletal frame of Susanoo. But Tobirama had no intention of stopping. He wasn’t the type to spare an enemy just because they were still breathing.
If you were injured, he’d finish the job.
“Water Style: Water Dragon Explosion!”
Tobirama unleashed a massive water dragon, hurling a torrent of Tandem Explosive Tags along with it.
BOOM!!
BOOM!!
BOOM BOOM BOOM!!!
Within the eye of the explosion, Madara fought to stay conscious, struggling to pull together what little chakra he had left. He used the fractured remains of Susanoo’s skeletal frame as a makeshift barrier, barely keeping himself alive. But after all the fighting, all the energy poured into summoning Susanoo in its many stages, his reserves were nearly gone.
“Water Dragon Explosion!”
Tobirama fired another water dragon, this one surging with momentum as it lunged forward and clamped its watery jaws around Madara.
With a deafening crash, rain began pouring down from the clouds above. Thunder rolled.
Crash!
Madara slammed into the ground like a broken weapon. He was a disaster; his clothes were torn to shreds, his armor lay in cracked pieces, his long hair was matted and unkempt, and blood and grime covered every inch of him. His war fan and scythe had been blasted away, lost in the wreckage of the battlefield.
Mū, Gengetsu, the Second Raikage, Shamon, and Tobirama finally let out a collective breath. The battle was over. Victory, this time, was undeniable.
Madara’s limbs trembled as he tried to rise and flee, staggering to his feet. But none of them intended to let him go. He stumbled backward, only to have Gengetsu appear before him, blocking the path. He spun and lunged forward, but the Second Raikage was already there, cutting him off without a word. Gritting his teeth, he turned sharply to the left. Tobirama was waiting, still and silent.
Desperation surged. Madara lunged straight ahead, but Shamon rose in a swirl of sand, forming a solid wall in his path. The moment he looked up, he saw Mū still floating overhead, unmoving like a silent executioner.
“Heh heh! Yo yo yo, baka~ isn't this Madara-sama himself?”
Gengetsu crossed his arms, voice thick with theatrical mockery. “Been a few days, and the so-called Shura of the Shinobi World already looks this pathetic?”
Shamon let out a sharp laugh, his mouth twisted in amusement. “Madara, who would’ve guessed you’d end up like this?”
Tobirama’s words were cold and merciless, his tone like steel against frost. “Madara, you have just no idea how much I hated you and your wretched clan.”
Madara’s jaw clenched so tightly it felt like it might crack. He stayed silent, swallowing the waves of shame even as his spirit was torn apart. His fury burned hot beneath his humiliation. They would all pay. Every last one of them would fall. No one who had seen him like this, defeated, disgraced, would live.
“Enough. Just end it already.”
Mū frowned as the others kept battering Madara like a discarded puppet. As much as he disliked the man, Madara was still a pillar of the shinobi world, a founding force of Konohagakure. There was a limit to how far they should go.
“Madara! It’s over!”
Tobirama raised his blade, aiming it directly at the center of Madara’s forehead. His grip was steady. The final blow was seconds away.
And then,
“STOP!!!”
A voice thundered across the battlefield from afar, loud enough to shake the trees.
At the same moment, a towering wooden tendril erupted from the earth, shielding Madara and snaring the entire Second Kage squad before they could react. Only Mū, still hovering high in the sky, managed to avoid the sudden assault.
From above, Hashirama descended.
BOOM!!
“Madara! Madara, what happened to you?! Tobirama! What the hell is going on?!”
Hashirama rushed forward, dropping to his knees and pulling the broken form of Madara into his arms. His chest tightened at the sight, blood-soaked, breath ragged, armor in ruins. Madara barely clung to consciousness.
Tobirama stood rooted to the ground in disbelief. Why was his brother here? How had he appeared at this exact moment? Could it be that some invisible thread truly connected him and Madara? Was fate weaving their paths together again and again?
Cough... cough...
Madara’s eyes fluttered open, weakly focusing on Hashirama above him.
“Madara! Please, stay with me! Don’t you dare die on me!”
Hashirama’s voice cracked, thick with urgency. Pressing his hands over Madara’s chest, he immediately began pouring chakra into him, working healing jutsu as fast as he could.
“Was... was it you... who sent them to kill me...?”
Madara’s words were barely audible, torn from him through pain. Blood stained his lips, and his eyes, though dim, stared deep into Hashirama’s, searching for betrayal, hoping not to find it.
“No! Madara, you’re my friend… my brother. I would never hurt you!”
Hashirama shook his head frantically, his face twisted in anguish. He had no idea this ambush had even been planned. He didn’t know Tobirama had pulled together this squad, much less that they had actually confronted Madara. Seeing his friend like this, wrecked, defeated, teetering on the edge of death, broke him in ways he hadn’t thought possible.
Tears blurred his vision. He couldn’t stop them.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to end.
Madara’s mouth lifted into the ghost of a smile, faint and heavy with sorrow.
“I knew... you wouldn’t kill me...”
Drip... drip...
Two tears slid down, falling silently onto Madara’s blood-smeared face like beads of glass. Hashirama felt his chest twist violently. He squeezed Madara’s hand with everything he had.
“Madara! Please, hold on! I’ll heal you! I’ll save you!!”
He funneled chakra without pause, working his hands in desperate rhythm, casting healing jutsu again and again. His breathing grew labored, his body trembling with effort, sweat running freely down his face.
But Madara slowly shook his head.
That same fragile smile clung to his lips.
His voice was soft now, fading like wind through leaves.
“Hashirama... don’t waste your strength. If healing could fix things... my brother would still be alive.”
He slowly lifted one trembling hand. The motion alone seemed to drain what little life remained in him. It was all he could manage.
Hashirama stared, unable to breathe. He bent forward instinctively, pressing Madara’s hand against his cheek, letting the dying warmth sink into him.
Madara’s smile deepened, weighed down by grief. It was the kind of smile that didn’t belong on a battlefield, the kind that knew loss far too well.
“Even the strongest in the shinobi world... can cry, huh?”
His voice was scratchy, a whisper through cracked lips.
“Madara...”
Hashirama’s eyes shimmered, filling again. He bit down hard on his lip to keep from sobbing, but it was no use. His heart felt like it was being crushed under the weight of what he was about to lose.
“Don’t cry... just avenge me...”
Those last words drifted from Madara’s mouth like a dying vow. His fingers loosened. His hand dropped. Limp.
(AN: Okay, that’s pure bromance. It's just that our minds are beyond repair.)
