Indra's Exchange, The Tailed Beasts' Offensive

Madara emerged from the shattered pile of sand, bare-chested, his long hair drifting in the night wind. The scar across his chest looked like a white centipede beneath the moonlight. Both of his eyes were hollow—his right eye was a pitch-black socket, and so was his left. There was no Rinnegan, no Sharingan, not even ordinary human eyeballs. There were only two empty black holes, pressed hollow by the Reaper's mask, like graves.

Yet the corners of his mouth were still raised.

His earlier grandiose declaration to Hashirama still echoed through the air, and his laughter seemed not to have fully faded. Madara stood there with his arms hanging naturally at his sides, his ten fingers slightly spread, like a war god who had stepped out of ancient times. There were no wounds on his body, no blood, no broken bones, no dislocations—a newly revived body, whole and brimming with vitality.

"Hashirama. Round two begins now." The final note of his words still drifted through the night wind.

Then he sensed something. His head tilted slightly, and his empty eye sockets turned toward a direction behind him. His senses caught a mass of Chakra moving at high speed from that direction—purple-black, cold, carrying a familiar pulse. It was Uchiha Chakra, but not his. It belonged to another Uchiha.

Sasuke.

Sasuke charged out from the remains of the Susanoo skeleton. His right arm still hung at his side, and the wound in his right shoulder, pierced through in the earlier battle, bled beneath the bandages and stained his white robe dark red. But he was fighting with his left hand—a Kusanagi Sword gripped within it, its blade reflecting a cold white gleam in the moonlight. Its tip pointed forward, its body parallel to the ground, the entire sword like an arrow