"Senior Madara, what do you think of this child?"
Madara's gaze lingered on Hanyu for a long time.
A rare look of approval appeared in his eyes, and the corners of his mouth lifted slightly.
Yet just as Xuandou thought he was about to agree, Madara suddenly frowned.
"Too old."
Madara's voice carried a hint of dissatisfaction.
"This child may be exceptionally gifted, but that great-grandson of Hashirama's began showing talent for Wood Release at just four. If I take an eight-year-old disciple, won't he have outdone me?"
The corner of Xuandou's mouth twitched.
Too old?
Eight counts as old?
He opened his mouth, wanting to say, "You weren't exactly young when you awakened your Sharingan either, were you, Senior?"
But looking at Madara's gloomy face, he swallowed those death-courting words.
He knew Madara all too well.
The man had now fallen into an obsessive state of "I absolutely cannot lose to Hashirama."
Hashirama had a four-year-old great-grandson with Wood Release, so he insisted on finding an even younger, more talented disciple to prove that the Uchiha were no worse than the Senju.
This was hardly taking a disciple. It was pure spite.
"You have a point, Senior."
Xuandou readily went along with him.
"Then let me show you someone else."
Madara snorted and folded his arms, giving his tacit assent.
Xuandou turned and beckoned an Anbu over:
"Go bring Yunyou here."
The Anbu's expression turned somewhat awkward:
"My lord, Young Master Yunyou... slipped out again today."
Xuandou pressed a hand to his forehead.
He knew it.
That child Yunyou had been unable to sit still ever since he learned to walk.
The Imperial Palace's high walls and vast courtyards could no longer contain him.
He would go to the seaside one day, into the mountains the next, then run