Rhythm Games × Dance

He, a former wide-eyed college student and Uchiha Izuna cosplayer, was best at rhythm games.

He was no great talent, but his hands were reasonably fast. At his peak, he had ranked third in the world in a certain internationally famous rhythm game.

Those hands and reflexes had long been tempered by hell-difficulty boss songs and fiendish April Fools' charts until they rivaled an autoclicker.

Whenever a "note" he needed to hit appeared in his field of vision, his fingers moved as if electrified, with the speed and precision of a near-conditioned reflex.

If a fragile college student could do that, what about ninja? What about ninja who could compress complex Hand Seals into a few seconds and dance on the edge of a blade? They should be able to do even better!

Besides, wasn't it said that when martial arts reached their pinnacle, every move and its conclusion had a "rhythm" of its own, much like dancing?

Hadn't Madara also said the famous line, "Do you want to dance too?"

So in his fantasy world, fighting was, to some extent, a matter of finding his opponent's "rhythm," then using his own "dance steps" to break it, suppress it, and bring it to an end.

"Come to think of it..." Izuna clenched his fist and released it, carefully feeling the strength and flexibility contained in this body. "This body is in better shape than I imagined."

No matter how fast a fragile college student's reflexes were, his muscles and bones might not keep up. His old self had known what to do but couldn't get his hands to do it.

But Uchiha Izuna's body clearly had no such weakness.

The feeling that every inch of muscle could respond precisely to his will was fresh and wonderful.

"Still, I can't really get a feel for it without an actual fight..." he muttered, his gaze drifting over the system panel before suddenly stopping.

Huh?

A small icon near the bottom of the panel, which had remained gray until now, had lit up at some point. A line of small text sat beside it: [Rhythm Game Mode]

Wow! This system really knows what I like! I just love an obedient system like this!

In that case... maybe I can give it a try!

He looked around, his gaze falling on the uchigatana hanging on the wall.

He walked over, took down the impeccably maintained sword, pushed open the rear sliding door, and stepped into the quiet backyard.

Moonlight spilled across the ground like liquid silver, illuminating the entire courtyard.

Izuna took a deep breath of the cool night air and gently nudged the guard with his thumb. The gleaming blade caught a glint of cold light beneath the moon.

Inside the master bedroom.

Madara broke free of his deep unconsciousness and chaotic dreams, his awareness gradually returning.

The dull ache in his chest and abdomen from Monster Strength's impact and the discomfort of his shaken internal organs were still vivid, but clearer still was the last sight he had seen before losing consciousness—Izuna's panicked face and the eyeball he had held in his hand.

"Izuna..." he called hoarsely. He struggled to sit up and hurriedly scanned the room, but his younger brother was nowhere to be seen.

An indescribable panic seized him.

Forcing himself to endure the pain, he threw off the covers, set his bare feet on the icy floor, and stumbled toward the outer corridor, supporting himself against the wall.

After turning a corner, a flash of silver dazzled his eyes.

The chilly air of the backyard washed over him together with the moonlight.

Then he saw him.

In the center of the courtyard, that familiar figure held a sharp blade and danced beneath the moonlight.

It was neither the fierce, swift swordsmanship brimming with killing intent that he used in training, nor the magnificent sword dance performed at celebrations.

It was a wondrous dance... something between the two, unlike anything Madara had ever seen.

The blade flashed like a ribbon of light, and his body moved like a willow.

Every slash carried clean, decisive force, yet every turn contained the graceful rhythm of a dance.

He moved at tremendous speed, flowing effortlessly and naturally.

Moonlight streamed along the blade, scattering fragments of silver with each movement. They enveloped the leaping, shifting figure in a breathtaking beauty.

Madara leaned against a pillar, forgetting his pain, forgetting his doubts, even forgetting to breathe.

He watched in a daze as his younger brother danced beneath the moon, flashes of steel weaving together into a silent, magnificent feast.

The figure overlapped with his memory of his younger brother practicing swordsmanship alone on the mountain behind their clan grounds when he was young, then separated from it again.

Madara gripped the pillar, pressing his fingertips so hard they nearly sank into the wood.

The dull pain in his chest and abdomen continued to remind him of his humiliation during the day, but now the figure in the moonlight had claimed all his senses.

Izuna's sword dance was utterly different from the swordsmanship Madara knew his brother possessed.

The Uchiha Clan's sword techniques were founded on the Sharingan's insight and emphasized killing in a single strike. Their style leaned more toward assassination; as long as it killed, nothing else mattered.

But what Izuna had just displayed... was a systematic technique. Every movement landed perfectly on some invisible beat, dazzling to the point of showing off, yet without the slightest opening.

Through those fluid transitions and incredible turns, his blade radiated a biting chill.

And he had achieved that speed and precision through physical strength alone.

How is this possible? Uchiha Izuna was highly gifted and skilled with a sword, but he had never reached such an incredible level.

And this fighting style... Madara had never seen it before. It belonged neither to the Uchiha nor to the Senju, nor to any ninja clan's school that he knew of.

Could this also be a "difference" brought about by that world?

Suddenly, he felt blood surge upward and couldn't stop himself from coughing. "Cough, cough..."

The sound startled Izuna, who had been immersed in his own world in the courtyard.

The flashing blade came to an abrupt halt.

Izuna stepped back in one fluid motion and sheathed his sword, then turned toward the corridor, his face still flushed from exertion and blank with confusion at the interruption.

When he saw it was Madara, concern immediately appeared on his face, and he hurried over.

"Brother! Why are you up? Your injuries haven't healed yet!" He reached out to support him, then hesitated with his hands in midair, afraid of touching an injured spot.

Madara didn't answer his question. He just stared fixedly into his eyes. "What were you... doing just now?"

"Huh? Practicing with my sword." Izuna answered as if it were obvious and blinked, his left eye moving smoothly with nothing amiss. "I didn't practice this morning, so I thought I'd get some exercise tonight. Besides..."

He paused, lowering his voice with a hint of embarrassment. "I accidentally hurt you during the day. I... I need to get back into shape quickly so I can control my strength better next time."

He spoke with heartfelt sincerity, his concern and self-reproach plain to see, as though that earth-shattering punch during the day and the mysterious sword dance beneath the moon were merely small matters within "Uchiha Izuna's" abilities that needed practice to perfect.

Madara's throat moved. A thousand words lodged in his chest, but in the end, all that came out was a dry, "...Your swordsmanship is different from before."

Izuna looked at him blankly. "How is it different? Hasn't it always been like this?"

Madara tried to find even the slightest trace of pretense on Izuna's face, which was full of innocence and confusion.

"How is it different?" Madara's voice was low and hoarse from his injuries, yet unusually clear. "The Uchiha Clan's swordsmanship exists solely to kill efficiently. But what you were doing just now..." He paused, as though searching for the right word. "...It was like dancing."

Izuna blinked, seeming even more confused. He leaned a little closer, genuine concern in his eyes. "What are you talking about? What kind of comparison is dancing? Brother, are you still groggy from sleep? Isn't this how sword practice is supposed to be?"

His complete lack of awareness left Madara feeling helpless instead.

If this was an act, it was far too flawless. So he really did...

Madara took a deep breath, aggravating the injuries in his chest and abdomen and making him frown slightly. But he forced down the discomfort and stared intently at Izuna. "Izuna, look at me. Think carefully. Everything here—Konoha, us, Hashirama, Tobirama... is it really all exactly the same as you remember?"

He had finally asked. No longer probing indirectly, he had brought the question that stood between them and tormented him day and night directly into the moonlight.

At last, a crack appeared in Izuna's expression.

It lasted for such a brief moment that Madara almost thought he had imagined it.

The next second, Izuna looked away rather than meeting Madara's eyes. He lowered his head and raised a hand to scratch his cheek, the gesture somewhat childish and clearly evasive.

"Brother, you really are acting strange today." Izuna's tone took on a deliberate lightness, even a hint of complaint. "Are you worn out? Has being injured made you start imagining things?"

He raised his eyes, forcing the corners of his mouth into a reassuring smile. "This is our home. We built Konoha together, and even though Brother Hashirama and Tobirama can be annoying sometimes, they're our comrades too. Have you been under too much pressure from the Hokage election lately? How about I go talk to Brother Hashirama tomorrow and have him do more work so you can get a good few days of rest?"

He spoke faster than usual, avoiding Madara's question and trying to steer the conversation elsewhere with a string of concerned remarks.

Madara didn't respond. He just watched him in silence.

The tranquil atmosphere in the courtyard had become somewhat unbearable. A breeze swept past, dark clouds veiled the bright moonlight, and the world suddenly fell into gloom.

A moment later, Izuna turned his face away and said quietly, "Um... Brother, your injuries haven't healed. Don't stand out here. Go back and rest. I'm sleepy too."

With that, he left almost as if fleeing, without waiting for Madara to react.

Madara watched Izuna's figure disappear around the corner, the dull ache in his chest seeming to spread through his entire body.

His gaze grew darker and darker, until it became an unfathomable gloom.

It really hadn't been his imagination.

Izuna was avoiding it.

He wasn't completely unaware. He simply... didn't want to face it or admit it.

Madara recalled the brilliant smile on Izuna's face when he mentioned their "shared memories" by the Naka River.

He recalled the familiar tone Izuna had used when complaining that his eye had malfunctioned and that Tobirama's "skills were poor."

He recalled how readily Izuna had used Senju-Style Super Strength without a moment's hesitation.

And the different yet incomparably skillful sword dance beneath the moon just now...

Izuna wasn't completely unaware of all these "differences." He had simply brushed them aside and covered them up, again and again, with lines like "Brother, you're acting strange today," "You're under too much pressure," and "I need more practice."

Why?

Madara's fingertips sank deep into the wooden pillar.

Could something truly terrible have happened in that "original world"?

Something so terrible that Izuna would rather immerse himself in this almost-but-not-quite "beautiful" illusion, rather deceive himself, than break through that thin veil and face a potentially cruel truth?

Perhaps the "Madara" of that world is already gone? Did something go terribly wrong with Konoha in that world? Or... did Izuna himself suffer an unspeakable trauma there, so that "going home" is something he fears rather than longs for?

That was why he resisted any suggestion that "this isn't your home" so strongly, why he was doing everything he could to act as though "everything was normal."

Madara's heart sank. A painful feeling, mixed with heartache, helplessness, and a heavy sense of responsibility, seized him.

If that's true... if his original world has already fallen apart, or might even be hell... then wouldn't my insistence on "sending him back" be another kind of cruelty?

But if he stays here, how long can this false "home," built on lies and everyone's careful cooperation, last? When the truth inevitably comes to light, won't it hurt Izuna even more?

Madara closed his eyes as a violent headache struck him, even harder to bear than the injuries to his chest and abdomen.

Inside the door.

Izuna leaned back against the sliding door and slowly sank onto the icy floor, his heart pounding so wildly it nearly leaped out of his chest.

He raised a hand to cover his face, his cold fingertips touching his burning skin.

That scared me to death! It really scared me to death!

That look Madara gave me, that question... I almost thought he was going to see through me the next second!

"Are you really Izuna?" He could almost imagine Madara saying it the next moment.

Luckily... luckily I reacted fast and muddled through by playing dumb and changing the subject.

This face... really helped me out.

He thought the "headcanons" he had added had made Madara suspicious. After all, a series of his actions had seemed pretty deliberate even to him.

Who reminisces about the past for no reason? Usually it's old grandpas and grandmas who do that, right?

But if he didn't do that, he really had no idea how to play Uchiha Izuna in everyday life.

Izuna had appeared pitifully few times in the Naruto anime and manga, and the only information he knew about his personality came from descriptions in the databook.

Self-sacrificing and devoted, with an emphasis on harmony.

The only descriptions of his relationship with Madara were the confrontation at the Naka River and that little bit before his death.

Aside from admiring his older brother, he had no other obvious traits.

He had been angry early this morning because even a normal person would have flown into a rage upon seeing that there was nothing in the house, so he had made a fuss without holding back.

But that afternoon had been pure acting.

Perhaps that was when he had given himself away.

Madara hadn't caught on before Izuna knocked him unconscious, but now he had had time to think it over.

Ugh... what do I do now? Without my headcanons, I can barely even play the part...

He had no idea that Madara's thoughts had already turned to the complicated, tragic notion that his younger brother from a parallel world had ended up stranded in another world and was avoiding reality because something unfortunate might have happened in his original world.

I'm just a college student trying to save up enough points to go home. Why do I have to face an opponent with award-winning acting skills and fight a psychological battle?

Izuna pulled a miserable face, fumbled his way back under the covers, and wrapped himself up tight.

"Don't panic, don't panic... acting skills are my lifeline, and surviving is victory..."

He encouraged himself and forced himself to calm down and analyze the situation.

Madara was suspicious now, but he clearly had no intention of acting immediately. Was he worried about something?

Was it because of this face? Or had the "strength" displayed by his "Monster Strength" during the day and his "sword dance" just now exceeded their understanding, making them wary of acting rashly?

Or... were they waiting for something too? For Tobirama's research results? For him to give himself away even more?

Izuna recalled Hashirama's complicated, indescribable look earlier that day and Madara's silence tonight.

The road ahead was long and full of damned pitfalls.

The miserable college student... finally let out a sigh.

"Forget it. I'll take things one step at a time. At least today... I muddled through again."

He closed his eyes and decided to get some sleep first. Tomorrow's problems could wait until tomorrow.

In the corridor, Madara stood beneath the moonlight for a long while before dragging his heavy steps slowly back to his room.

His gaze gradually grew resolute in the darkness.

No matter what, he had to find out exactly what had happened to Izuna.

What exactly was the situation in his "original world"?

Until then... he had to protect this younger brother who had ended up stranded here.