Mud and water trickled down Madara's chin.
Drip. Drip.
They splattered into the pit of black mud beneath him, forming tiny puddles streaked with blood.
He lay facedown on the ground, half his face still buried in the sludge.
His mouth was full of earthy filth and sour blood. The impact had loosened every tooth in his gums.
The tip of Yoru's leather shoe rested less than half an inch from his nose.
A chunk of something—maybe White Zetsu flesh, maybe something else—was stuck to the shoe, giving off a foul stench.
"Cough, cough... Ptoo!"
Madara violently turned his head and hacked up a mouthful of thick black blood.
The bloody spit mixed with several broken molars and splattered across the ground.
His lone eye stared fixedly at Yoru's shoe tip, red veins nearly swallowing up the whites of his eye.
His breathing rasped like a battered bellows leaking air.
"I..."
Madara dug both hands into the muddy ground.
His fingernails had curled back, oozing yellow fluid.
Clenching his blood-filled mouth, he forced his trembling arms to support him and slowly pushed his upper body up.
The pale Hashirama face-like tumor on his chest had been blown open, rotten flesh hanging outward.
The fluid flowing from within was a sickly blackish green, enough to make anyone nauseous.
"I am... Madara Uchiha!"
He roared in a voice like a broken gong.
There was defiance in his voice, along with a trace of weakness he could not hide.
Yoru could not even be bothered to look at him.
He simply pulled a lighter from his pocket, flicked it open, and lit a cigarette.
He took a deep drag, then blew all the smoke straight onto Madara's forehead.
"Enough. Stop reciting your lines here. Throw that name around these days, and you couldn't