Days of Recovery

The days that followed were peaceful.

Madara was forced to stay home and recover.

He had asked Hashirama to hurry up and heal him with the Mystical Palm Technique so he could return to the Hokage office and the situation that demanded his vigilance as soon as possible. Instead, Hashirama had put his foot down during a routine examination.

"Madara! The Mystical Palm Technique works by stimulating cells to divide at an accelerated rate! It's fine for emergencies, but relying on it long-term means exhausting your body's potential! Do you want to age before your time or have your Chakra pathways dry up early?"

For once, Hashirama put on a stern face, his authority as a medical-nin unquestionable. "Rest and recover! For at least a week!"

Seeing the uncompromising look in Hashirama's eyes, then catching sight of Izuna nodding vigorously beside him in a show of support that said, "Brother Hashirama is right," Madara could only scowl and resign himself to remaining a patient.

And so, the task of caring for Madara fell entirely to Izuna.

The bright-eyed college student had no problem with that. It was even somewhat in his line of work—before crossing over, he had worked part-time as a caregiver at a community hospital to save up for figurines and cosplay outfits.

He served tea and water, changed dressings and bandages, monitored Madara's temperature, and prepared three meals a day, making sure they were nutritious, balanced, and light in flavor.

Izuna had everything taken care of and remained on call around the clock. His attentive manner left Madara feeling a little dazed, as though he weren't injured at all, but enjoying some kind of extraordinarily lavish noble service.

Izuna had nothing to complain about, except for one problem: boredom.

He was bored to death—

Without a phone, internet, gaming livestreams, or new anime episodes, the days dragged on for an outrageous length of time.

He hadn't noticed much when he first arrived, but now that he had time on his hands, the boredom was driving Izuna up the wall.

So Izuna decided.

Play! Rhythm! Games!

Hehe, rhythm games were so much fun.

Whenever Izuna had time to spare, he wandered into the backyard with his uchigatana and, aided by a "rhythm game interface" with translucent note tracks and a flashing judgment line that only he could see, enjoyed a rousing round of "real-life Beat Saber."

His blade flashed and danced to a beat only he could hear, his figure darting and weaving around the courtyard.

To Madara, who occasionally came out for some air and sat under the veranda to watch, it looked like his younger brother was once again practicing that dazzling, strangely rhythmic "swordsmanship."

Madara watched in silence, trying to glean more information about the combat system of that "world."

The way Izuna swung his blade did indeed use the traditional Uchiha Style method of generating force, but there was no pattern at all to his moves. Every swing seemed to be made on a whim, as though he used whatever move came to mind.

The frequency of his swings did follow a pattern. Three- and four-hit combos were common, and there were also some less frequent... afterimage attacks that Madara couldn't make out even with his Sharingan active?

What was that? Izuna appeared in the same spot four times in an instant, returning to his original position after each strike before appearing in that same spot again.

Those consecutive strikes went in every direction and could last for nearly a minute at their longest.

Was that really an attack speed a person could achieve? Or rather, what kind of battle would call for a technique like that???

And shouldn't moves like that normally be a trump card? Why was Izuna merely a little out of breath after unleashing such attacks, as if they were ordinary strikes?

Madara Uchiha was baffled.

Izuna just thought four-note chords were ridiculously hard, but landing them felt incredible, and they were fun to challenge. He hadn't noticed in the least how earth-shattering his movements looked to Madara.

When he was tired and didn't feel like playing rhythm games, Izuna lounged on the veranda outside Madara's bedroom.

Leaning against the doorframe with one leg bent, he would either spread open a scroll on the basics of Ninjutsu or the customs and scenery of this world and read it with relish.

Or he would pull out a Kunai and deftly flip, bounce, and weave it over the back of his hand and between his fingers, performing all kinds of tricks.

Unfortunately, a Kunai wasn't the butterfly knife he was more familiar with. Without the flashy opening and closing, it wasn't quite as satisfying to play with, but it was better than nothing.

The cold glint of metal flowing between his fingertips and the sight of him reading quietly on the veranda made up the most common backdrop to Madara's recovery.

Hashirama came by on the afternoon of the fourth day of Madara's recovery.

He was ostensibly there to visit the patient, and he did bring a box of ointment said to have been specially made by Mito Uzumaki, with remarkable effects on internal bruising. But one look at his hesitant expression and wandering eyes told Madara that something was on his mind.

Sure enough, after exchanging pleasantries, Hashirama took advantage of Izuna's trip to the kitchen to prepare tea and snacks, lowered his voice, and quickly got to the point.

"Madara, about Izuna's eyes... and Tobirama..." Hashirama rubbed his hands together, looking conflicted. "Tobirama insists that if we really have to keep... uh, going along with Izuna's understanding of things over the long term, then basic research into the Sharingan has to go on the agenda.

"At the very least, we need to be able to hold a conversation about it. Otherwise, if Izuna takes an interest one day and insists on asking Tobirama for an explanation, won't we be exposed on the spot?"

Madara frowned. He knew Tobirama had a point. If they were putting on an act, they had to see it through.

Izuna seemed to have an almost blind faith in Tobirama's research abilities. Even when he spoke disparagingly of him, he had never said anything like Tobirama being unable to do it.

But the thought of letting Tobirama Senju study the Sharingan, even if only theoretically and at a superficial level, instinctively filled Madara with resistance and wariness.

"Is there no other way?" Madara asked in a low, chilly voice.

"Tobirama said that unless we can send Izuna back right this instant, to exactly the right place, this is the safest way to reduce the risk of being exposed."

Hashirama grimaced. "You've seen it too. That boy... he's too 'genuine,' and he seems utterly convinced that Tobirama can solve the problem with his eyes."

Madara fell silent.

He remembered the eyeball that had been so easily removed and put back, and the familiar, complaining tone Izuna had used when mentioning Tobirama.

Indeed, this was too big a hole in their story.

"The research can go ahead," Madara finally said coldly, "but it must be conducted under the Uchiha Clan's supervision. Its scope will be strictly limited to the most basic physiology and Chakra reactions. The nature of Dōjutsu and the secrets of our bloodline are off-limits.

"The Uchiha must have copies of all research materials and the right to destroy them. In addition, Tobirama must sign the strictest confidentiality agreement and swear on the honor of the Senju Clan."

Hashirama breathed a sigh of relief and nodded hurriedly. "No problem, no problem! Tobirama guessed you'd set conditions too. He should be able to accept all of those."

Just then, rhythmic swishes sounded from the backyard.

Hashirama and Madara both paused and exchanged a glance.

"Izuna's 'practicing his swordsmanship' again," Madara explained evenly, rising and heading for the veranda overlooking the backyard. Curious, Hashirama followed.

Then Hashirama Senju, the God of the Shinobi World, saw a sight he would never forget.

In the courtyard, Uchiha Izuna held an uchigatana, his figure moving so fast in the afternoon sunlight that it almost left afterimages.

But it wasn't the blurred trail left by an ordinary ninja moving at high speed. It was a kind of... precise, rhythmic flickering.

His flashing blade wasn't aimed at an imaginary opponent. Rather, it seemed to be cutting through countless invisible "points" in the air that only he could perceive.

The blade's path was at times swift as lightning, its three- and four-hit combinations of slashes and thrusts dizzyingly fast.

The blade struck at tricky, bizarre angles, doubling back and circling at impossible trajectories to weave a fleeting, gorgeous web of light through the air.

What made Hashirama's pupils contract most was how Izuna would occasionally move at extreme speed within a tiny area, his figure shifting at a frequency the naked eye could barely follow.

Every movement was accompanied by a sharp thrust or slash, the direction of his attacks changing in an instant, as though countless enemies were attacking from every direction and he was dealing with them all at once.

This high-frequency, all-angle burst of "defensive counterattacks" could last for nearly a minute!

When he finished, Izuna merely took a small breath and shook out his wrist, as though it had only been a warm-up.

Hashirama's jaw dropped.

What... what kind of swordsmanship was that?!

He had never seen anything like it! Madara's swordsmanship was bold and sweeping, full of power, while his own Taijutsu was more fierce and direct, and combined with Wood Release, it had never failed him.

But what Izuna was displaying now was an almost artistic way of fighting that brought speed, precision, rhythm, and the ability to respond from multiple angles to their limits!

Especially those close-range, ultra-high-speed combos—they were simply inconceivable! How terrifying must his bodily control, dynamic vision, and reaction speed be?!

If Madara could do that too... Hashirama instinctively imagined fighting Madara and nearly broke out in a cold sweat.

Those omnipresent, lightning-fast attacks, like a rainstorm of pear blossoms, combined with the Sharingan's insight and Genjutsu, would be impossible to counter!

"No... wait, Madara?" Hashirama whipped his head toward his best friend, his voice cracking as he pointed at the backyard. "Is... is that normal?? That swordsmanship?!"

Madara stood with his arms folded, his expression calm. Ever since accepting that his younger brother came from a parallel world, he had learned to face his brother's abnormalities without changing expression.

No matter what, that was his younger brother! His perfect younger brother! No arguments accepted!

"I don't know," Madara replied briefly. "He said he was 'practicing.'"

Just then, Izuna finished that round of the "rhythm game level" and sheathed his sword. Breathing lightly, he turned and saw the dumbstruck Hashirama and the relaxed Madara on the veranda.

"Brother Hashirama? You're here!" Izuna smiled and walked over, his eyes bright and his expression refreshed after exercising. "Did you come to see Brother Madara? He's much better, but he keeps trying to sneak off to work."

Hashirama still hadn't fully recovered from the shock. Pointing at the backyard, he stammered, "I-Izuna, that swordsmanship just now... wh-what school is it from?"

Izuna paused, then laughed. "Why, it's our Uchiha Style swordsmanship, of course. I've practiced it since I was little. It's not like you've never seen it before."

Izuna wasn't lying. The moves his body used instinctively were indeed Uchiha Style swordsmanship, at least when he was swinging his sword normally.

But in the world of rhythm games, everything was done to hit the notes, so Izuna's movements had been distorted into something even Madara didn't recognize.

Hashirama whipped his head toward Madara, his eyes saying, Your Uchiha Clan was hiding a weapon this devastating, and you didn't tell me?!

As well as, If that's Uchiha swordsmanship, just how many oceans were you holding back when we fought before?!

Madara's expression stiffened for an instant too.

Looking at Izuna's candid expression, as though he were asking why that even needed to be said, Madara felt the urge to press a hand to his forehead for the first time.

Izuna looked at their strange expressions and blinked. Seeming to understand something, he added, "Oh, maybe my training took a bit of a different direction? I prefer fighting a little faster like this. Brother Madara's style focuses more on power, so it's a bit different."

He casually attributed this earth-shattering swordsmanship to a "difference in personal style," as naturally as if he were saying some people liked savory tofu pudding and others liked it sweet.

Hashirama: "..."

Madara: "..."

Madara smiled faintly. "Well done. That's my little brother."

It took Hashirama quite a while to find his voice again. He gave a couple of awkward laughs. "Ha, haha... I-I see... The Uchiha really do... produce one talented person after another..."

He felt that his worldview had taken quite a blow and needed some quiet time.

"Then I won't disturb your brother's recovery any longer..."

"Okay! Take care, Brother Hashirama! Say hello to Sister Mito for me!"

Those words dealt Hashirama another heavy blow, and he drifted away like a wandering ghost.

Madara looked at Izuna's clear, innocent eyes and said helplessly, "Izuna, don't tease Hashirama."

Izuna grinned. "I wasn't. What do you want for lunch?"

"Whatever you like," Madara said indifferently. "Everything you make tastes good."