Ryuto plopped down on the ground, panting heavily.
He had already dropped out of Super Saiyan form, his hair turning black again, and he felt completely drained. He glanced at Hyūga Tenshu lying motionless in the middle of the crater, then looked back toward Hashirama.
Hashirama was still kneeling. He had just taken his hand off Madara's chest, his face frighteningly pale and his forehead covered in sweat.
"How is he?" Ryuto called, his voice a little hoarse.
Hashirama forced a smile that looked worse than crying.
"He'll live."
Beside him, Madara lay on the ground. A thin layer of flesh had grown over the horrifying hole in his chest. It hadn't fully healed, but at least it was no longer spurting blood.
Madara's eyes moved. Then they opened.
They were still the same Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan. Nothing had changed.
Madara stared at the purple sky for two seconds, then slowly turned his head toward Hashirama, who was kneeling beside him.
Hashirama was wiping away his sweat. Seeing Madara awake, he grinned.
"How do you feel?"
Madara didn't answer immediately. He braced his hands against the ground and tried to sit up, but a stab of pain in his right chest made him freeze.
Hashirama hurriedly supported him.
"Easy. The wound only just closed. You still need to recover."
With Hashirama's help, Madara sat up and looked down at his chest.
The newly grown flesh was tender, its color different from the surrounding skin.
He looked up at Hashirama.
"Thank you." He said the two words very slowly.
Hashirama froze for a moment, then burst out laughing and clapped Madara hard on the shoulder.
"What are you thanking me for? We're friends! No need for that!"
Madara coughed twice from the slaps and said nothing.
He turned his head and