Setsuna: Lord Madara?! Lord Izuna Uchiha?!

The first to step off the ship were the brothers Yaoyu and Yakumi.

The two brothers always had cold expressions, and their indifferent demeanor remained unchanged for years, yet they could see through each other Setsuna a single glance.

The aura emanating from the two became increasingly calm and restrained, shedding its former sharpness and gaining a profound foundation honed through countless life-and-death battles. It was an aura that could only be forged through countless bloody battles, far beyond what ordinary cultivation could achieve.

Following closely behind, Natsu stepped onto the pier.

He Setsuna bowed, about to perform the proper clan greetings, but his gaze suddenly froze, and his entire movement was abruptly halted.

Behind Natsu, two figures walked out slowly and unhurriedly.

These were two people he kept buried deep in his heart, people he thought he would never see again in the rest of his life.

Madara Uchiha stood with his arms crossed, his posture upright like a pine tree, his usual cold indifference covering his eyes and brows, showing no superfluous emotion.

Having shed the destructive aura of a demon who once filled the world, he now wore only a slightly faded old-style Clan Uniform from the Sengoku period, with a few specks of grass clinging to the cuffs, likely picked up from the dust of his journey home.

The warm sunlight fell on his shoulders, softening his innate aura of coldness and making his angular and hard face appear somewhat gentler.

Beside him Izuna Uchiha, whose features were just as sharp and fierce as his brother's, yet he possessed a gentle and warm quality that Madara had never shown before.

He was dressed in the same Sengoku Clan Uniform, with a gruesome slash mark clearly visible on his collar. It was the fatal wound left by the Flying Thunder God Blade that pierced his body back then, a final image of Izuna Uchiha frozen in the long river of history.

Time seemed to suddenly shift and flow backward at this moment.

In Setsuna, I felt all my strength drain away, my legs trembled slightly, and I could barely stand.

He opened his mouth, but his throat felt like it was blocked by cotton soaked in salty seawater. A thousand words welled up in his heart, but in the end, he couldn't utter a sound.

Fugaku, who was standing beside him, keenly noticed the senior Elder's lapse in composure. A hint of doubt flashed in his eyes as he turned his head and asked softly, "Elder Setsuna, do you know these two gentlemen?"

There was no response for Setsuna.

His gaze lingered on the two brothers, his aged and cloudy eyes quickly welling up with tears.

He had lived through the chaotic Sengoku period, witnessed the rise and fall of a clan, and endured great ups and downs. He had never been moved by the vicissitudes of his life, but now, looking at the two familiar figures etched into his very bones, his heart shattered completely.

His lips moved repeatedly, and after a long while, a hoarse, broken voice, filled with endless sobs, finally managed to squeeze out from his throat.

"Izuna Uchiha..."

He subconsciously took half a step forward, then suddenly stopped, hovering in mid-air, afraid to fall.

He feared that this was merely a delusional dream born from his obsession in his twilight years, and that it would shatter completely at the slightest touch.

After a moment of hesitation, he looked up at that towering figure, his voice so soft it was almost blown away by the sea breeze, yet it held a sense of vicissitude and anticipation that spanned a thousand years.

"Lord Madara..."

The two sect leaders I followed in my youth have finally returned, after traversing countless years and the chasm of life and death.

Fugaku's brow furrowed even more.

He was a member of the clan born after the founding of Konoha. From childhood, he only heard about the family genealogy and old stories passed down from generation to generation. His knowledge of Madara and Izuna Uchiha was limited to yellowed records and occasional scattered oral accounts from Setsuna. He never had a real concept of them.

He simply couldn't understand why Elder Setsuna, who was usually calm, composed, and experienced in life, would lose his composure so much in front of two unfamiliar old friends.

Natsu stood quietly to the side, gently shaking her head at Fugaku at the right moment. Her eyes were gentle but carried a clear indication, telling him to suppress his doubts for the time being and not to ask any more questions.

On the pier, a gentle sea breeze caresses the air, and time flows by peacefully.

Madara Uchiha lowered his eyes and looked at the old man with gray hair and a slightly hunched back. A very faint ripple passed through his indifferent eyes.

He remained silent for a long time, then parted his thin lips slightly, his voice low and calm, carrying a certainty that had transcended the years.

" In Setsuna... I never expected you to still be alive."

Izuna Uchiha tilted his head slightly, his gaze carefully tracing the old man's appearance, as distant and hazy memories surged and gradually became clear.

Those war-torn years, and the youthful days spent following my brother on the path of our clan, all flooded back to my mind.

The next second, a faint smile appeared on his lips, a gentle curve that carried a warmth that transcended endless war and time, soothing the heart.

"I remember you too. You little rascal who used to run around following us everywhere, now your hair is completely white."

In a single sentence, he completely shattered the mental defenses Setsuna had been held for years.

This veteran Elder, who has lived through the Sengoku period and witnessed the rise and fall of several generations of the Uchiha, has now shed all his composure and dignity, like a child who has finally waited for his older brother to return home.

Hot tears streamed down unexpectedly, splashing onto the bluestone ground and leaving a small wet patch.

He raised his hand and forcefully wiped away the tears on his cheeks, straightened his slightly hunched back, bowed deeply, and performed the most solemn and devout clan salute of his life towards the two old friends before him.

A deep, choked voice, carried on the sea breeze, resounded firmly across the entire pier.

"Welcome home, Lord Madara, Izuna Uchiha- sama."

The sea breeze swept across the pier, ruffling the clan head's haori draped over Fugaku's shoulders. The black hem of the garment billowed and rippled, exuding the unique composure and solemnity of a clan leader.

He stood quietly in place, his gaze shifting back and forth between the Setsuna reddened eyes and the two overly young faces in front of him.

The two choked addresses, Lord Madara and Izuna Uchiha- sama, kept echoing in his ears, each word heavy and lingering in his heart.

How could there be such a coincidence as two people with the same name?

For someone who had lived through the chaos of the Sengoku and witnessed the rise Setsuna fall of a clan to lose his composure so suddenly, for this venerable Elder had remained steadfast throughout his life to have his eyes redden and shed tears in front of all the younger generation of the clan, it could not possibly be just a stranger with the same name.

Fugaku's gaze returned to the man who stood with his arms crossed.

His expression was indifferent, his demeanor aloof, and he was enveloped in a chilling indifference that kept strangers at bay.

Without needing anyone's introduction, the legend etched into the very bones and blood of the Ninja World automatically surfaced in my mind—the battle at the Valley of the End, Hashirama Senju he faced Uchiha alone, and single-handedly upheld the prestige of the entire Uchiha clan with his own might, Madara Uchiha.

He then looked at the young man beside him; his eyebrows and eyes were sharp as blades, but a gentle smile played on his lips.

On the hem of that old Sengoku Clan Uniform, a clear and glaring tear ran through it—a scar left by Tobirama Senju's Flying Thunder God Tobirama Senju, an indisputable mark in the annals of the Ninja World.