The battlefield was quiet for once, the scent of blood and steel lingering in the air from the last skirmish between the Uchiha and Senju. You sat on a large rock, adjusting your bandages, wincing slightly as you pulled them tight.

"You're getting sloppy," came a voice from behind you.

Turning your head, you saw her—Madara Uchiha, though in this world, she was different. A woman with long, wild raven-black hair cascading down her back, crimson Sharingan eyes piercing through the dimming evening light. She wore her iconic red armor, slightly scuffed from battle, her black undershirt clinging to her form. Despite the slight smirk on her lips, her eyes held an unreadable expression.