On the battlefield, Hajime Kashimo grew more alarmed the longer he fought.
(This guy...)
(His speed and strength are no less than mine. They might even... surpass mine?)
(No, it isn't just speed and strength.)
(His combat instincts, his timing... he's like an old monster who's fought tens of thousands of battles to the death.)
(But his body is clearly so young...)
(Are all the brats of this era monsters like him?)
Hajime Kashimo had lived so long, fought countless battles, and faced all kinds of opponents.
Power types, speed types, technique types, those with bizarre Cursed Techniques...
But he had never seen anyone like Madara.
Pure, absolute-an all-rounder who seemed to have honed every aspect of combat to an inhuman level.
What alarmed him even more was that his opponent seemed... to still be adjusting.
As the battle continued, his movements grew smoother, his responses more composed, and he even began subtly steering the rhythm of the fight.
It was as though he were using Kashimo for practice.
That realization gradually replaced the anger in Hajime Kashimo's chest with an almost excited hunger for battle.
(Interesting...)
(This is so interesting!!)
(Rather than chasing Sukuna, who exists only in legend...)
(This living, powerful opponent before me, who sets my blood boiling-)
(Isn't he the more worthy "prey" to fight!?)
Hajime Kashimo's lips slowly spread into an almost savage grin.
In his eyes, the flames of battle that had lain dormant for four hundred years blazed to life.
"Brat!" He suddenly stepped back, putting distance between them, and raised his right arm to point at Madara, his voice trembling slightly with excitement.
"Tell me your name! You've earned the right to be remembered!"
Madara stopped and stood where he was, looking at him calmly before tilting his head with a slightly