Madara Uchiha.
Orochimaru stood behind him, a smile still lingering on his lips, just about to say something.
Without warning, Madara kicked Orochimaru in the stomach.
The force of that kick was absurd. Orochimaru's body smashed through three trees before coming to a stop.
He lay on the ground and spat out a mouthful of blood, but he was still smiling.
"Heh heh heh... Just what I'd expect from Madara Uchiha. Such a foul temper."
Madara didn't look at him.
He stood there like a mountain, like a blade, like a god of war who had stepped out of antiquity.
His gaze swept across the battlefield, across the ninjas locked in combat, across the people from other villages hiding in the distance, before finally settling on one man.
Hashirama Senju.
"Hashirama."
Madara's voice was low, carrying a weight that had endured beyond life and death.
Hashirama Senju stood where he was, looking at the old friend who had emerged from the coffin.
No, his sworn enemy.
His expression was calm, but his hands trembled slightly.
It wasn't fear. It was something he couldn't quite name.
"Madara."
Hashirama's voice was calm as well.
"You've been brought back through Impure World Reincarnation."
The corners of Madara's mouth lifted.
"It seems someone doesn't want me to rest in peace."
Their gazes met in the air. There were no sparks, no killing intent, only a complex emotion spanning decades that no one but the two of them could understand.
Everyone on the battlefield stopped moving.
The standoff between Itachi and Kisame paused for a moment.
Jiraiya looked at Madara, his expression grave.
Kakashi finally tore his attention away from Obito's face. His pupils contracted slightly as he looked at the figure in red armor.
Blue steam still burned around Guy, but his fists tightened.