Uchiha Izuna died.
Not in legend, not as a rumor carried by crows — he died right in front of Uchiha Madara, and Madara could do nothing but watch the light leave his brother's eyes.
On the day Izuna stopped breathing, something inside Madara snapped. The warm, approachable young clan head vanished. What stood in his place was a man carved from winter steel. Every Uchiha felt the shift instantly. Conversations became whispers. Footsteps became careful. No one wanted to be the spark that ignited the new Madara's temper.
"How did the investigation go?"
Madara sat on a futon like a statue carved too sharply, eyes fixed on the kneeling clansman. His voice carried the chill of a blade drawn in the dark.
"It has been verified, patriarch," the man said quickly. "Senju Tobirama created his Flying Thunder God Technique by studying the version used by Amamiya Raizen… but Tobirama's version is far weaker."
Madara's eyebrow twitched. "So Senju Tobirama did not learn it from Raizen?"
"No, patriarch."
Madara closed his eyes a moment, then spoke again, voice flat. "Continue."
"Yes, patriarch."
Once the messenger bowed and left, Madara let the mask crack — just slightly. Rage flickered through his eyes like coals stirred in a dying fire.
Ever since Izuna fell, Madara had been obsessed with one question:
How did Tobirama learn Flying Thunder God?
Every child in the Uchiha clan knew the technique belonged to Raizen alone. A single man's signature move — violent, unpredictable, frighteningly efficient. Yet Tobirama had copied it well enough to kill an Uchiha heir.
Madara originally suspected Raizen had secretly armed the Senju for some political play. But the deeper he dug, the clearer the truth became:
Tobirama invented his own version.
Through study. Through instinct.
Through hatred.
"Senju Tobirama…" Madara whispered, eyes darkening. "I underestimated you."
His focus had always been on Senju Hashirama, the overwhelming force, the unstoppable storm. He'd never looked carefully at the shadow beside him — the silent blade that aimed for the throat, not the chest.
Izuna had died because of that shadow.
"Tobirama," Madara hissed, voice trembling with a hatred too sharp to swallow, "I will kill you."
His Sharingan spun, bleeding red and twisting into the shape that no one in the clan had ever seen before.
The Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan opened.
"I won't forgive any of the Senju."
Power hummed through him like a fresh wound. War began forming in his mind the way storms form behind mountains — inevitable, violent, hungry.
The world, however, barely flinched.
In the Warring States, deaths were common enough to numb even grief. One more fallen prodigy changed nothing. The Fire Country carried on with its strange, fragile peace.
Somewhere far from the Uchiha stronghold, deep within the Amamiya camp…
"My lord! Urgent reports from the southern border!"
Sarutobi Renji burst into the tent, dropping a stack of intelligence files so large they nearly buried the desk — and Amamiya Raizen's will to live.
Raizen stared at the documents the way a modern office worker stares at an inbox that refilled itself overnight.
Great. More paperwork. Exactly the ninja fantasy he signed up for.
Gen-sōma had barely let him sleep since the last skirmish. Every time Raizen cleared the table, another flood of reports arrived, like the universe refused to let him rest for even five minutes.
"You've got to be kidding me," Raizen muttered. "I reincarnated for this? To die as a bureaucrat?"
Renji didn't even blink. He'd heard this speech plenty of times.
"But Raizen-sama, these documents concern the Senju and Uchiha."
"…Fine. Hand them over."
Raizen skimmed the pages — and froze.
The report detailed the Battle of Baichuan Gorge.
Senju Tobirama's ambush.
Uchiha Izuna's critical injury.
His death seven days later.
Madara's sudden descent into cold brutality.
"Izuna is dead…?"
Raizen exhaled slowly. Izuna wasn't his enemy, just another kid in a world that kept chewing up children like cheap rice. But Izuna's death meant something else — something far more dangerous.
If Izuna died, then Madara…
He definitely took his brother's eyes.
Which meant the timeline had shifted again.
"Tch. If Madara awakened the Eternal Mangekyō now, he'll skyrocket in strength. One or two months and he'll be a monster." Raizen rubbed his temple. "If he gets too strong too fast, conquering the south becomes a nightmare."
Canon said Izuna should've lived longer.
But Raizen's arrival had messed up the butterfly wings again — accelerated battles, earlier confrontations, premature deaths.
"Renji. Call in the elders. Now."
Renji blinked. A moment ago, Raizen had looked like he wanted to light the documents on fire and leave the country. Now his posture was straight, voice sharp, eyes steady.
"Yes, Raizen-sama!"
Within ten minutes, the elders were gathered. Raizen didn't bother with speeches; he simply handed them the files.
The room fell silent except for the rustling of paper.
One by one, the elders' expressions hardened.
A storm was coming, and everyone in the room felt the temperature drop.