A lesson

Madara Uchiha carried Setsuna by the back of his collar through the center of the Hagoromo Clan Territory, stopping at a training ground toward the rear.

Madara Uchiha let go, and Setsuna landed on the ground, stumbling a step before finding his footing.

He lifted his eyes and watched Madara take a sharpened sword from the wooden rack at the edge of the grounds and casually toss it at his feet.

"Choose whatever weapon you want."

Madara Uchiha stepped back into the center of the clearing, his arms hanging naturally at his sides, without taking any defensive stance.

"Swords, kunai, shuriken-take whatever you find on the training ground's weapon racks. Ninjutsu is allowed. Explosive tags, too."

His deep black eyes looked down at Setsuna, heavy and cold, and his voice held no warmth.

"And I won't use any weapons."

Setsuna froze. He looked down at the sword by his feet, then back up at Madara Uchiha.

Madara wore dark casual clothes, with no sword at his waist or kunai in his hands. He had even taken off his ninja tool pouch and left it on a wooden post at the edge of the training ground. He truly carried nothing.

"Are you looking down on me?"

The fury of humiliation surged through Setsuna's chest.

Gritting his teeth, he bent down and picked up the sword. He slowly drew the blade, discarded the scabbard, and gripped the hilt with both hands, aiming the tip at Madara Uchiha's heart.

He charged with all his strength.

With his level-three stamina boosting his speed, his figure left an afterimage in the air. The blade tore through the air with a shrill whistle, heading straight for Madara's throat.

At the same time, the shadow on the ground reached out, wielding two sickles that slashed at Madara Uchiha's calves.

Madara turned slightly, letting the blade skim past his neck and stab empty air. Both feet left the ground, then stamped down, snapping the two weapons.

He raised his left hand and casually tapped the flat of the sword with the back of his hand. Setsuna's strike veered off course, sending him toppling left along with his sword.

Before he could regain his balance, Madara's right hand closed around his wrist and gave a light twist. The blade fell from his hand, and his momentum flung him away. He slammed into the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.

"Get up."

Madara Uchiha's voice came from above.

Setsuna gritted his teeth and climbed to his feet.

Rather than retrieving the sword, he drew the kunai from behind his waist, lowered his body, and rushed forward even faster.

This time, he did not attack head-on. He circled to Madara's right, sweeping his kunai upward from below and aiming its tip at Madara's ribs.

Madara did not even turn his head.

His right hand reached back and caught Setsuna's kunai-wielding wrist.

The moment his fingers tightened, Setsuna felt as though an iron clamp had closed around his wrist bones. They creaked under the crushing pressure.

At the same time, Setsuna formed hand seals with his other hand, and a pair of shadow hands shot out from beneath his arms toward Madara Uchiha's face.

Madara Uchiha applied a joint lock to the Shadow Hand with one hand. A turn of his wrist and elbow produced a crack, and the Shadow Hand snapped.

Madara twisted his wrist, wrenching Setsuna's arm behind his back. Setsuna was forced to bend forward, his knees slamming into the ground.

"Get up."

The same two words, just as devoid of emotion.

Setsuna climbed to his feet again.

His right arm was still numb, and his kunai had fallen to the ground. He had no time to retrieve it.

He immediately formed hand seals. Chakra gathered into a searing fireball in his throat, and a Great Fireball erupted from his mouth, trailing a long tail of flame as it blasted toward Madara.

Madara leaned his upper body back slightly. The fireball skimmed past his chest, its scorching gust blowing the loose strands over his forehead backward.

Just as he straightened, Setsuna rushed in front of him under cover of the firelight-three shadow shuriken spun toward him from three different angles, cutting off his escape routes to either side.

Madara ducked at an incredibly awkward angle, slipping through the gaps between the shuriken. At the same time, his left leg swept out and struck Setsuna's ankle.

Setsuna went airborne and crashed heavily to the ground. When his back struck the earth, he felt all the air squeeze out of his lungs, stopping his breath for half a second.

"Get up."

This time, Setsuna was noticeably slower to rise.

He braced his kunai against the ground, kneeling on one knee and gasping for breath.

Sweat ran down his shaved head, slid over his brow, and dripped into his eyes, salty and stinging.

He raised his sleeve and wiped his eyes carelessly, then gritted his teeth and stood.

Shadow Hands burst from the shadows, gripping weapons as they attacked Madara from every direction-sickles slashed sideways, spears thrust straight ahead, and an odachi cleaved down from above.

An almost imperceptible change finally flickered in Madara Uchiha's eyes.

His body moved through the gaps between the attacks. He turned his upper body to avoid a sickle's horizontal slash, pressed his left hand down to knock aside a spear shaft, and raised his right hand-with a light flick of his finger against the blade's spine, he sent the shadow odachi off course.

The Shadow Technique scattered into wisps of black smoke.

At that very instant, Madara felt something tighten around his ankles.

Two Shadow Hands burst from the shadows and clamped tightly around both his ankles.

Madara lowered his head and glanced at the two fading Shadow Hands by his feet, then looked back up at Setsuna. The five-and-a-half-year-old child stood three steps away,

with a scrape across the bridge of his nose that was still bleeding. The corners of his mouth lifted into a supremely smug smile.

But Madara was too powerful. A mere surge of chakra shattered the Shadow Hands.

In less than a breath, Madara appeared behind Setsuna and struck his back with his palm.

Setsuna flew into a wooden post at the training ground. The post creaked under the impact, and a thin crack split its surface.

He slid down the post and curled up on the ground, coughing. Every cough felt as though it would tear his lungs out of his chest.

Madara Uchiha walked over and looked down at Setsuna, curled in the dust.

"Do you feel it now? That's the gap between us."

"And that's the gap between you and any powerful adult you face."

Setsuna braced both arms against the ground, his elbows shaking violently.

His sweat dripped into the dirt, leaving one dark spot after another. Sweat blurred his vision into a gray-white haze.

He gritted his teeth, pushing his knees up inch by inch and straightening his back bit by bit. He stood.

"Again," he said.

Madara Uchiha frowned slightly.

The five-and-a-half-year-old child before him was covered in injuries and could barely stand, yet his eyes held neither fear nor hesitation, only something difficult to comprehend-excitement.

Madara lost patience. He raised his hand, preparing to knock Setsuna unconscious with a chop and end this pointless fight.

Just as his hand was about to fall, a sudden tightening gripped his ankles.

Two Shadow Hands emerged silently from the shadow beneath Madara's feet, all ten fingers clamping firmly around his ankles.

Madara Uchiha stopped.

A smile spread across Setsuna's face, smeared with blood, sweat, and dirt.

"I haven't lost."

After saying those words, his body pitched forward uncontrollably. His consciousness fell into darkness before his body did, and he toppled rigidly forward, his nose hitting first before the rest of him crashed into the dust.

The impact broke the bridge of his nose outright. Blood poured from his nostrils, mixing with the dirt and smearing half his face.

He did not even have the strength to raise a hand and wipe it away.

Madara Uchiha remained where he stood. The Shadow Hands around his ankles had dissolved into wisps of black smoke the instant Setsuna lost consciousness.

He looked down at the little boy lying facedown on the ground and said nothing.

Izuna walked over from the edge of the training ground.

He crouched beside Setsuna and reached out to turn his little face out of the dirt, then wiped the soil off it with his sleeve.

"What a frightening little battle maniac."

Madara Uchiha snorted coldly. "He hasn't learned his lesson yet."

Izuna carefully lifted Setsuna into his arms. The five-and-a-half-year-old curled into a tiny bundle against him, the sleeves of his Miko Robe covered in dirt and scattered spots of blood.

Madara Uchiha looked away from Setsuna. "The battlefield is no place for reckless bravado. There are countless cases of foolish commanders charging too far ahead, reaching deep into enemy territory, then turning around to find their entire squad wiped out and themselves surrounded and killed."

He sighed. "A clan's fighting strength can't be measured by individual power alone. No matter how strong one person is, they can't fight on multiple fronts. However many victories you win at the front, if the rear falls to the enemy, it's still a crushing defeat."

Holding Setsuna, Izuna nodded. "You're right, brother. He has plenty to learn."

Madara Uchiha turned and walked out of the training ground.