Cloud Shinobi Frontline
As the Fourth Kazekage Rasa had predicted, the momentum of the Hidden Cloud was reaching a fever pitch. After the Third Raikage had personally intervened, dealing a crippling blow to Danzo and forcing the Konoha forces into a desperate retreat, morale among the Cloud shinobi soared.
But as a copy of the intelligence regarding Ikki reached the Third Raikage's desk, the shadow of a looming storm began to darken the camp of the village that had dared to wage war on three fronts simultaneously.
"Lord Raikage, you must withdraw the troops!"
Tutai stood before the Third Raikage, pleading for the tenth time since the news of Ikki's return had broken.
"How many times must I tell you before it sinks in?" the Raikage roared, slamming his fist onto the table. The wood splintered instantly under the force of his blow. "I have already broken Danzo. The Fire Nation's defense line is on the verge of total collapse. And now, at the brink of victory, you ask me to tuck my tail and run? Do you have any respect for the Cloud shinobi who bled for this ground? Why should I discard a victory paid for in our people's blood?"
"Because the man standing in your way is Ikki!" Tutai shouted back, ignoring the Raikage's mounting fury.
"What of it? He is just one man!" Lightning began to crackle around the Raikage's body, his sheer chakra pressure obliterating the remaining furniture in the tent. "He is an old shinobi—a remnant of a dead era. I am 'A'! Why should I fear a ghost from the Warring States?"
"Lord Raikage, I am not asking you to abandon the war entirely," Tutai urged, his voice desperate. "Simply suspend the offensive against Konoha. Whatever momentum we lose here can be recovered by striking at the Sand or the Rock!"
"I am no coward like Ohnoki!" the Raikage bellowed. "That fool lost his son and didn't even dare to raise his voice in protest—he just rolled over and surrendered like a beaten dog! If this 'hero' wants me to withdraw, tell him to come and face me in person. I will use the Strongest Spear and the Strongest Shield to show him, you, and the rest of the world the truth: relics of the past belong in the dirt!"
With a violent surge of chakra, the Raikage blasted Tutai out of the tent before the advisor could utter another word.
Tutai picked himself up from the dirt outside, letting out a long, heavy sigh. He knew the Raikage was committed to this path. There was no third option now—either the Raikage would fall, or a legend would be slain.
In the past, Tutai had admired the Raikage's indifference to death and his refusal to back down from any challenge. But looking at the dusty scrolls detailing Ikki's deeds, he realized the terrifying truth. If Ikki came in person, the Raikage's "indifference to death" wouldn't be a choice—it would be a guarantee.
Hidden Cave
Deep beneath the earth, the dying Uchiha Madara sat listening to the reports from White Zetsu. Various tubes and tendrils from the Gedo Statue were connected to his frail body, pumping him with just enough life to keep his heart beating.
"Hahahaha... Ikki, are you finally ready to dance?"
Madara's laughter echoed through the cavern. His eyes were hollow sockets, and his body was a broken shell of its former self, yet the aura that radiated from him as he stood up was so intense it eclipsed even that of the Raikage.
"Master Madara, do not be so quick to celebrate," Black Zetsu said, rising from the floor like a shadow. "The 'Iron Fist' being active could pose a significant threat to our plans."
"So what?" Madara's tone was cold and brimming with an arrogant confidence. "All my life, I, Uchiha Madara, have never been second to any man. If he is out, then so be it. It simply means my Rinnegan will finally have an opponent worthy of its sight."
Deep down, the sting of the Sengoku era still lingered. Madara had always felt overshadowed by Ikki's overwhelming physical dominance, a grudge he had nursed for decades. Hearing that his old rival was still alive sparked a flicker of genuine excitement in his cold heart.
"Master Madara," White Zetsu interjected, "you seem to be forgetting—you don't have your eyes."
Madara's laughter cut off instantly.
"Go and retrieve them from the boy, Nagato," Madara commanded. He didn't want to think about logistics or timing. At this moment, his singular focus was reclaiming his sight to face his old friend.
"Master Madara... you are old," Black Zetsu said bluntly.
"And is Ikki not old as well?" Madara snapped, glancing at the life-support tubes keeping him tethered to the world.
"The Iron Fist is a freak of nature," White Zetsu said, spreading his hands. "He is not like you. Age does not touch him. Half a day ago, my clone watched him heave a mountain from the earth—a slab of rock as large as your Perfect Susanoo—and throw it with one hand."
The feverish heat in Madara's mind suddenly chilled. His wisdom, sharpened by decades of solitude, finally regained control. He knew Ikki's "special" constitution better than anyone except perhaps Tobirama Senju.
He desperately wanted to charge into battle and settle the score, but he looked at his withered limbs and realized the truth. Even if he reclaimed his Rinnegan right now, in his current state, he would only repeat the failures of the past. He remembered the sting of those iron fists—the kind of beating that had left even an Uchiha of his caliber bedridden for a month.