Side Story: Madara Uchiha

He stood at the doorway, watching the man who called himself "Izuna" walk in.

The warmth of the embrace still lingered in his arms, warm and familiar; his body recognized that warmth in that instant.

Nostalgia and longing welled up uncontrollably, faster than his reason, faster than his hatred, faster than his heart that had been dead for half a year.

But his reason told him...

Izuna is dead.

He watched the coffin being lowered into the earth and placed the first bouquet of white flowers in front of the tombstone; the sound of the earth falling still echoes in his bones.

The dead cannot be brought back to life; there are no such merciful miracles in the world of Ninjas.

So, this is a fake.

How dare they impersonate Izuna!

Unforgivable...

Ban's fingertips tightened slightly, and a murderous intent, like a cold tide, slowly crept up from the end of his spine.

But when that person walked up to him, he naturally raised his head, and the curve of his eyes at the corners was exactly the same as Izuna's.

The last syllable of his voice rose slightly, carrying a hint of intimacy and taken-for-grantedness towards his elder brother.

"Elder brother."

Ban's heart was instantly gripped by this word.

He cursed himself: How despicable.

I'm not criticizing the imposter, I'm criticizing myself.

--You actually went easy on a counterfeit product.

He then began to scrutinize this guy who wanted to take Izuna's place.

Then he realized that Izuna and the Senju brothers were talking in a strange way.

There was no hostility or wariness; on the contrary, there was a great deal of familiarity.

It's like we've known each other for over a decade, lived under the same roof, and had a relationship where we were allowed to tease and extort each other.

When he mentioned Hashirama, he called him "Hashirama brother Hashirama), his tone filled with respect and affection.

He would complain about Tobirama, but there was no hatred behind his complaints, only a kind of disdain that one would have for "one of his own".

But towards him, there was a constant sense of distance.

It's not that he didn't care about him, but apart from the initial hug, he didn't have any physical contact with him.

Ban listened, observed, and extracted information from every detail.

This Izuna is not a fake.

He has a complete and self-consistent set of memories.

The world he perceives is completely different from the one he lives in.

"He is indeed not my younger brother. But he is indeed Uchiha Izuna."

This conclusion brought Ban a strange sense of peace.

It was like the outline of a reef finally emerging from the fog; though dangerous, at least it was recognizable.

He told Hashirama, "If he has any problems, I will personally send him on his way."

This was said to Hashirama, but also to himself.

He was setting a bottom line for himself, a final line of Defensive Line.

If this Izuna is some kind of threat, a conspiracy he hasn't yet uncovered... he must be able to take action.

Must.

He repeated the word to himself, as if gripping a knife tightly, making a firm decision.

He believed that people who had faced death would never be defeated by anything again.

He was wrong.

Izuna sat in the bedding, holding an eyeball in his hand. His left eye socket was empty, with only a smooth membrane covering it.

The void stared directly at him, like a silent question.

Ban's mind went blank.

The wounds he had painstakingly healed over six months, layer by layer with the heavy responsibilities of Clan Head and his longing for the Infinite Tsukuyomi, were suddenly ripped open.

Izuna. Eyes. Death.

Three words exploded in his mind, then rearranged themselves.

--Izuna's eyes were gouged out.

--Izuna is going to die again.

For a moment he felt dazed. Although he had never seen Izuna gouge out his eyes, the scene still shocked him.

He couldn't remember what he had done.

By the time he came to his senses, he had already grabbed Izuna's fingers and was gripping them tightly, his words broken into incoherent fragments.

"I don't want your eyes. I'll put them back in. Please—don't leave me."

He is pleading.

Madara Uchiha, the god of death known as the Asura of the Ninja World, has now become an older brother who once lost his younger brother, kneeling before the fear of losing him again, humbly begging.

Until Izuna said, "These are the new eyes that Tobirama cultivated."

He believed it.

It's not because this explanation is particularly reasonable.

Whether Tobirama's technology could truly reach that level, why the eyeball remained active, and how Izuna was able to remove it without pain—these details cannot withstand scrutiny.

But Ban believed it.

He must believe.

His mind could no longer bear another truth, so these were newly cultivated eyes, which would simply fall off and be put back in.

He carefully pushed the eyeball into Izuna's eye socket, his movements so careful that even Izuna was surprised.

"Take a good rest today."

He turned and left.

He said those words before closing the door.

"Welcome back."

The next day, the child dragged him to go shopping, and relying on his good looks, he bossed him around and treated him arrogantly, so he got a good scolding.

But surprisingly, he felt a sense of peace.

The house was decorated with a lively atmosphere, and even the items belonging to Izuna that he couldn't face were displayed.

Seeing Izuna bustling around, Madara knew he had to make his move.

Otherwise... he wouldn't be willing to part with it.

The sound of the Naka River was exactly the same as I remembered.

Madara walked half a step behind Izuna, listening to him recount those past events that had never happened.

Hashirama cheated Hashirama Rock-Climbing Competition, Tobirama overtook him expressionlessly, and the four of them went to Amaguriama to eat Three-Colored Dango.

He described these scenes so vividly that he could almost picture Hashirama's exasperated expression, Tobirama's smug, tense Tobirama, and Izuna hiding behind him, laughing so hard he couldn't stand up straight.

In that world, there were four people.

In that world, Izuna is still alive.

Ban listened, occasionally responding with a gentle voice, even carrying a faint smile.

Because he had already made his decision.

This walk was a farewell.

It was his final gift to his younger brother in this other world.

He wanted Izuna to be happy before she died, to be accompanied by her brother, and to be completely unguarded.

He wanted to remember Izuna's smile at that moment, and the light in his eyes as he recounted those memories.

Then he will take action.

Clean and efficient, without pain.

Perhaps when he reaches that Taiseki ahead, or perhaps when he finishes telling the joke, he will plunge the blade into his heart.

Or, even more simply, break the cervical spine.

At his speed, Izuna wouldn't sense anything.

This is not Izuna betraying that world.

This is merely sending off a lost soul that doesn't belong here.

That world was so beautiful, but he could never go back. He realized something was wrong, so now he was desperately trying to get reassurance, trying to pretend that this was still his homeland.

But... this is not his home after all.

So, rather than letting him collapse after discovering the truth, it's better to let him die in this beautiful dream.

Ban silently recited it in his heart.

Then, Izuna gouged out his eyes.

A soft "pop" sound traveled past the sound of water and into Ban's ears.

All the Defensive Line he had meticulously constructed, all his composure, and his murderous intent vanished in that instant.

The scene before him once again overlapped with the hell he feared.

Madara's Chakra surged, and his Mangekyō Sharingan activated involuntarily.

He rushed forward, frantically ordering Izuna to put the eyeball back in, trying to snatch it away and put it back in for him.

Then, a sharp pain shot through my chest.

Izuna punched him, sending him flying.

The Senju Style's Monster Strength was firmly imprinted on his chest and abdomen. He was sent flying, crashing through trees and shattering rocks before finally slamming into the trunk of a large tree and sliding down.

He spat out a mouthful of blood.

It hurts. My ribs are probably broken.

But when Ban raised his head and looked at the panicked figure rushing towards him in the distance, the first thought that came to his mind was not anger, nor the humiliation of being deceived.

Rather, it was a comfort.

Monster Strength, the Monster Strength of the Senju Style.

Izuna's punch just now was incredibly powerful, capable of unleashing such astonishing destructive force in an instant.

At least Izuna could protect herself this way.

Even if he wasn't her brother, even if he didn't belong here, even if his very existence was shrouded in mystery.

As long as he's strong enough to survive in this cannibalistic world, that's fine.

"Your... eyes..." Ban said with difficulty, handing over the eyeball he had been holding in his palm.

His last thought before he fainted was:

Unbeknownst to him, he had already decided he no longer wanted to kill this person.

The days spent recovering from my injury were unusually peaceful.

Izuna took care of him in every little detail.

Diet, medication changes, temperature checks—every meal was arranged perfectly, with light flavors and balanced nutrition.

He, on the other hand, sometimes complains about the lack of variety in the dishes, wondering why he didn't learn them when there were already so many.

As Ban watched his busy figure, he vaguely felt that this was just an ordinary family, with the younger brother taking care of his injured older brother, a scene that was both everyday and heartwarming.

But this is not a heartwarming everyday occurrence.

While Izuna was practicing his sword in the courtyard, Madara sat on the veranda watching.

He had never seen such Swordsmanship before; it was incredibly fast and had a peculiar rhythm, like some kind of dance that didn't belong to this world.

Sometimes, Izuna can unleash dazzling combos within a very small area, moving at such a high frequency that even the Sharingan struggles to keep up.

Madara observed, analyzed, and tried to understand the logic behind this fighting style, wondering why he had learned it, all while feeling a pang of heartache for him.

But most of the time, he just watched.

Watching that figure dance in the afternoon sunlight, the flashes of the blade were like shattered silver.

He wanted to keep watching this scene.

It's late at night.

Ban sat alone in the room, without turning on the lights.

He was thinking about many things.

Izuna's escapism, the deliberately diverted topics, the panic hidden behind a relaxed smile, and the self-isolation beautified by the guise of taking care of his older brother.

Izuna knew something was wrong.

But he was unwilling to admit it.

Ban closed his eyes.

What exactly happened in that world?

What made Izuna cling to this ambiguous illusion rather than confront the truth? Was "Madara" from that world no longer there? Had Konoha had undergone a change in that world?

Ban recalled the calmness with which he removed the eyeball, the casualness with which he said "It fell off again," and his avoidance of the word "death."

He stopped thinking about it.

Regardless of why Izuna did this, during that time, he was the older brother.

He will protect his younger brother who has been stranded here.

In the name of Madara Uchiha, with all that he has not yet exhausted.

So, that night, Madara made up his mind and went to Uchiha Hikaku's residence.

"Izuna is back," he said.

As he recounted the story, Hikaku He's expression shifted from shock to confusion, then to worry, and finally, under Ban's gaze, to resolute obedience.

"I understand, Clan Head."

Madara gave very detailed instructions: no one in the clan should show any surprise or curiosity when they see Izuna; they should treat him as the Second-in-Command who has returned from vacation.

Treat him naturally, just like before.

Hikaku agreed.

When Ban left, the night was deep. He walked on the deserted street, his steps lighter than when he arrived.

This is all he can do for now.

Let the clan's territory become a safe shell, protecting Izuna inside, so that at least here, he can relax a little. No longer constantly on edge, no longer afraid of being discovered, no longer avoiding eye contact in every unintentional glance.

Standing in the basement of the Shrine, Madara Uchiha pondered many things.

Madara Uchiha made many decisions throughout his life.

Some decisions were made to survive, some to end the war, and some to save the Shinobi World from countless deaths and injuries.

But of all those decisions, none were as absurd as the one we're making now.

He was guarding a person of unknown origin, a person with distorted perceptions, a person who might discover the truth at any moment, break down, and leave.

He cooperated with him in his act, set up a safe stage for him, suppressed the lingering doubts and anxieties every night, and even gave up the path that could have saved the world for him.

Just because that person called him "brother".

Just because that person brought him a bowl of hot soup when he was injured, just because when that person was wielding a sword under the moon, the glint of the blade faintly reflected a shadow he thought he would never see again.

He found a flower blooming on the tombstone.

At first, he wanted to eliminate the problem completely.

But the thorns of that flower pricked his hands, drawing blood, and the pain confirmed his existence.

Now, he no longer asks where the flower came from or why it was born.

He just wanted to transplant it, protect it, and prevent it from withering.

Don't let anyone point it out...

This flower's blooming season has actually ended long ago.