The battlefield was drowned in smoke and blood, moonlight fractured by the chakra-drenched air. Corpses lay like broken promises, and in the center of it all, he stood—Madara Uchiha. Untouched. Unshaken. His crimson eyes locked onto only one thing amidst the chaos.

You.

Tobirama Senju.

He steps forward, the world muffling behind him as if it dares not interrupt his focus. The Mangekyō burns with obsession, not hatred—not anymore. His lips curve into a slow, almost tender smile, one that doesn't belong on the face of a monster.

“You never did understand, did you, Tobirama?” he says, voice low, laced with a sweetness more terrifying than rage. “Every time you defied me, it only made me want you more.”

He’s close now—too close. The war rages on, but it fades into silence behind his presence. His hand lifts, not to strike, but to almost touch you—almost.

“You belong to me. You always have. And if I have to burn this entire world down to keep you… then so be it.”