Sunset — Later That Day
The sky was awash with orange and pink as the students returned to their classrooms under the guidance of their homeroom teacher, Aizawa Shouta.
Once everyone had settled in, he stood before the class with his usual drowsy expression. "You all did well today. As a reward, school will be closed for the next two days."
Cheers erupted around the classroom.
"The Hero Agencies who attended will be submitting internship offers. The faculty will sort them and announce the placements after the break. Enjoy your time off."
"YES!!" the class cheered.
As the students began packing up, Aizawa looked directly at Madara. "Uchiha-kun. Stay behind."
The others exited gradually, whispering about the ceremony and their rankings. Soon, only Madara remained, arms crossed as Aizawa pulled a document from his drawer.
"The police contacted the school. They want you to undergo another Quirk verification test."
Madara didn't even flinch. "Wasn't that All Might's responsibility to deal with?"
"When did he say that?" Aizawa raised an eyebrow.
"During lunch." Madara turned toward the door, picking up his bag. "So don't bring me this kind of nonsense again."
Aizawa sighed as the door shut behind him.
Outside — Early Evening
Streetlights flickered on as Madara stepped out onto the sidewalk, pulling his jacket tighter. The wind carried a subtle chill, and the streets were lively with pedestrians, many of whom now recognized his face.
"Isn't that Madara from Class 1-A?"
"Yeah! I saw him burn down the whole stage!"
"Can I get your autograph?!"
Madara blinked, bemused. "Huh. Fame travels fast."
Children and teens rushed over, holding notebooks and snapping pictures. Even some adults approached for selfies.
"Okay, okay, one at a time. Don't crush each other," he said dryly.
The crowd swarmed around him until—
A voice from the shadows.
"You look like you're enjoying the celebrity life, Uchiha Madara."
Madara turned slowly, eyes narrowing as he stepped into the alley.
"I remember that voice," he muttered, tossing his schoolbag to the side. "Hero Killer—Stain."
From the darkness, the killer emerged, dressed in the same tattered ronin gear. His eyes gleamed with madness.
"I despise people like you," he growled, resting a blade on his shoulder. "Is that what you think being a Hero is? A show? A brand?"
"I think you're still bitter about losing."
Stain snarled, baring his teeth. "I've trained for this rematch. I've gotten stronger."
Madara smirked, the Sharingan flickering to life. "So have I."
WHOOSH!
Knives whistled through the air, dozens of them hurled toward Madara at blinding speed.
His eyes spun—and then—
CLANG!
A glowing blue ribcage of chakra exploded around him, a skeletal Susanoo intercepting every blade.
Madara stepped forward slowly, voice low and cold.
"Let's finish this."
---
"Boom!"
The moment the knife landed at Madara's feet, an explosion erupted, consuming the alley in thick white smoke. Shards of concrete scattered, and the sharp hiss of pressurized gas filled the air.
"A smoke bomb?" Madara muttered, his voice calm even as his Sharingan spun slowly. He peered through the haze, visibility dropping to barely a meter.
He straightened his back, unfazed.
The swirling blue armor of his Susanoo faded with a gentle pulse of chakra. The red glow of his eyes dimmed slightly, returning to their three-tomoe state.
His smirk returned. "Stain… your tactics are crude. A poor imitation of Zabuza, if I've ever seen one."
A presence flickered behind him.
"Go to hell!"
The cry was raw, filled with bloodlust. Stain lunged from the smoke, his blade aimed straight for Madara's heart.
In that instant, time slowed.
Madara's body turned effortlessly. He caught the assassin's wrist mid-strike, eyes glinting.
"Crack!"
Stain's scream echoed through the alley as Madara tightened his grip, bones fracturing beneath his fingers. The katana dropped with a metallic clang.
"You should've stayed in the shadows," Madara said, voice like ice. "Last time, I was merciful. This time…"
He formed a spear with his hand, chakra sharp as a blade.
"…you die."
"Puff!"
His palm pierced Stain's chest, straight through the heart.
Stain's eyes widened in shock, blood pooling at his lips. "How…? I trained… I grew stronger…"
Madara stared him down, unflinching. "And yet, you're still slower than me."
Stain collapsed to his knees, then fell face-first into the alley's concrete, a pool of blood spreading outward. After a few weak spasms, he lay still.
The Hero Killer was dead.
The alley grew silent again—until the fragile voice of a child echoed from the edge of the alley.
"…Mom… Mom…"
Madara turned slowly.
A girl no older than six stood frozen at the mouth of the alley. She wore a floral dress and had two pigtails tied neatly with ribbons. Her eyes were wide, tears streaking her face.
She had seen everything.
Madara stared at her for a long moment. His bloodstained arm glistened under the streetlamp.
"…Tch." He turned away without a word, wiping his hand on the inner lining of his jacket.
He flicked his fingers, clearing the last drops of blood, grabbed his bag, and vanished from the alley in a flicker of movement, leaving no trace but a corpse and a sobbing child behind.
The Next Morning
Knock knock knock!
Madara groaned and rolled out of bed. The door thundered again.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming…"
He opened the door, rubbing his eyes. Standing in front of him was Yaoyorozu Momo, grinning brightly in a sleeveless crop top and shorts, holding two water bottles and a folded towel.
"Morning! Let's hang out," she said cheerfully, already stepping inside like it was her house.
"…You don't even wait for me to say yes anymore," Madara sighed, closing the door behind her.
"I brought snacks," she said, waving a bag of sliced apples she'd helped herself to from his kitchen counter.
Madara disappeared into the bathroom to freshen up, splashing cold water over his face. His reflection stared back—calm, controlled. The blood on his hands was gone now. Only he remembered it.
Ten minutes later, they stepped out into the sunlight.
Momo linked arms with him, a mischievous smile on her lips. "I've found something amazing today. You're going to love it."
Madara gave her a sideways glance. "Define 'amazing.'"
"You'll see." She winked. "It's a surprise."
The "surprise" turned out to be a massive, natural open-air hot spring nestledonn the outskirts of Musutafu. Steam rose from wide pools carved into the stone, and rows of towering bamboo framed the area, giving it a tranquil, almost spiritual air.
To Madara's quiet surprise, it was a mixed bath.
Dozens of people—students, civilians, tourists—were already relaxing in the mineral waters, chatting, laughing, soaking under the afternoon sun.
More importantly, several people immediately recognized the infamous Uchiha Madara.
"Look! It's him!"
"No way! From the Sports Festival?"
"Madara-sama! Can I get a photo?"
Madara scratched the back of his head as the crowd started to swarm, a mix of fans and curious onlookers eager for a picture or an autograph.
"You brought me to paradise," Madara said dryly as Momo floated behind him, already in her towel.
"You're welcome," she beamed. "Now smile for your fans."
A group of students came up with notebooks and phones, politely asking for autographs.
Madara sighed but relented. "One at a time."
About an hour later, Madara leaned against a smooth rock, submerged up to his shoulders in hot water. The heat loosened his muscles, and the tension from the night before melted away.
Momo joined him, her towel wrapped neatly, hair up in a bun. She sat close but respectful, her presence more comforting than distracting.
"You're popular," she teased, watching another pair of girls whisper and glance at Madara from across the pool.
"I didn't do the Festival to become a celebrity."
"Fame is part of the hero path."
Madara opened one eye lazily. "I'm not a hero."
Momo looked at him with soft curiosity. "Then what are you?"
Before he could answer, the large projection screen at the front of the hot spring area flickered.
A news anchor appeared. "This morning, authorities discovered a male body in an alley near Shibuya Road. The deceased has been identified as the notorious Hero Killer—Stain."
Gasps rippled across the bath.
"The body was found with severe internal trauma. His heart had been forcibly removed. Officials are still investigating the perpetrator…"
Momo's face stiffened slightly. She turned toward the screen, lips parted in shock.
"Stain's dead?" she murmured.
Madara glanced at her sidelong. "You know him?"
"I've heard of him. Everyone has. He was dangerous… unhinged, but talented. People were terrified of him." She paused. "Who could've killed someone like him?"
Madara didn't answer.
The projection continued. "No suspects yet. Witnesses report a child may have seen the incident, but police are still investigating."
Momo frowned. "It's good he's gone… but still, whoever killed him… that's murder, isn't it?"
Madara tilted his head back, closing his eyes again. "Justice and murder are sometimes the same thing. Depends on the hands doing it."
Momo looked at him curiously, but didn't press.
She dipped her fingers into the water. "Let's stay until sunset."
Madara nodded. "Sure."
As the afternoon sun turned to orange dusk, the rising steam veiled their faces, and the chatter of the crowd faded. Beneath the surface, Madara's hands were still. He didn't feelguiltyt. He didn't feel pride. Just a quiet certainty.
The world would never be simple—not for someone like him.
But if it needed cleaning…
He'd burn away every stain it left behind.
---
A/N: Advanced Chapters have been uploaded on my Patreon, please do check it out, it will mean a lot to me
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