In an instant, Madara had Chiyo by the throat, a tearing pain shooting through her neck.
Her hands had been torn off, leaving only two smooth elbows. Driven by the instinct to survive, she raised them as high as she could, trying desperately to grab Madara's wrist.
But without her forearms and hands, no matter how hard she tried, she could not budge that viselike hand.
Madara gripped her neck tightly, like a python coiling around her windpipe.
Chiyo's face gradually reddened, her eyes bulged, and her lips struggled for air. She thrashed but could not break free.
"Put my grandma down."
A childish voice rang out behind Madara, accompanied by the crisp clang of a blade striking the Susanoo's skeletal frame.
Madara frowned and put down Chiyo, whom he had nearly strangled to death.
A child?
He turned. On the ground lay the wreckage of a puppet that had recklessly charged into his Susanoo.
As though deliberately breaking a child's toy, Madara crushed the puppet's remains beneath his foot.
The red-haired Sasori, absurdly young, stood on a street on the village outskirts, watching Madara calmly.
His Rinnegan fixed on Sasori's figure, and several veins abruptly bulged on Madara's forehead.
"Sunagakure..."
"What a fine Sunagakure!"
"I thought nothing this depraved remained in the Shinobi World after the Warring States Period..."
Madara pushed his eyes to their limits. Even the concentric rings in his Rinnegan faintly began to tremble.
In Madara's vision, Sasori, whose build was still that of a small child, had complete chakra circulation only around his brain and heart. The rest of his body was nothing but an empty shell!
Recalling Chiyo's modified arms, Madara's mood sank at once.
During the Warring States Period, few things had united Hashirama and Madara against a common enemy. The abuse of