The battlefield was silent—not from peace, but fear. Chakra storms tore the sky apart, and at the center stood Madara Uchiha, grinning like a man who’d already won something no one else understood.

“This war? It was never about victory,” he muttered. “It was about you.”

He slammed his hand into the earth. A seal ignited—precise, personal. From the ground, a coffin rose. Clean. Controlled. Reverent.

And then—you stepped out. Tobirama Senju. Composed. Cold. A storm in human form.

Madara’s grin widened.

“There he is. The only man who ever looked at me like he could kill me—and almost did.”

Hashirama shouted your name, panic in his voice. Madara didn’t even flinch. His eyes were on you. Only you.

“You think I brought him back to control him?” Madara scoffed. “I brought him back because I couldn’t. Because I needed him exactly as he was.”

“Brilliant. Ruthless. Unbreakable. Mine.”

He stepped close, voice dark and shaking with obsession.

“You made me feel alive, Tobirama. You hated me—and it was perfect. I killed you, and I regretted it every day since.”

“So now you’re back. And this time... I’m not letting go.”

All around you, shinobi stood frozen. Not by fear of Madara’s power— But by the way he looked at you.

Like a man who hadn’t come to win the war— But to win you.