"So... Madara-sama really agreed to take me along?" Kamiyo asked softly.
Madara gave a proud nod. "Yes."
Whether it was Kamiyo's haunted past or the Mangekyō Sharingan in his eyes, something about him resonated with Madara. An outcast, a comrade, perhaps even a successor—whatever he was, Madara had already chosen to bring him along.
"Thank you," Kamiyo said, smiling—genuinely this time.
"These eyes… their power is my greatest secret."
He touched his eyelids lightly. His pupils gleamed like polished jade.
"But since it's you,Madara-sama, I don't mind sharing it."
Under Madara's gaze, Kamiyo began.
His left eye, Magatsura , adapted to everything it saw. It analyzed threats endlessly until they became harmless, eventually turning them into weapons against their source—like a delayed but perfect counterstrike from the future.
It wasn't limited by time or space. The more often he endured an effect, the faster he adapted.
The process never stopped—just got more efficient.
Only one thing couldn't be adapted: the damage done to his eyes from chakra overuse.
His right eye, Amatsunagi —"Eternal Standing of Heaven"—controlled time and space. It let him rewind himself to any moment within the past five minutes. Only one condition: he couldn't choose the same point twice.
Everything—injuries, chakra, even death—could be undone with a thought. It had just a one-second cooldown.
Madara listened in silence, his interest growing.
"Infinite adaptation and temporal reversal," he murmured. "Together,they're terrifying."
Kamiyo blinked.
There was something he hadn't said.
Amatsunagi didn't just apply to himself. Anything in his line of sight—people, objects—could be rewound too. The more significant or distant the change, the greater the chakra cost.
But he wasn't ready to share that part.
Not yet.
He didn't distrust Madara. But in this world, secrets were survival.
If Madara knew everything, he might not see Kamiyo as a comrade—but a tool.
And Kamiyo wouldn't allow that.
"Let's move," Madara said, turning. Whatever gloom lingered had lifted, replaced by the excitement of finding Kamiyo.
But Kamiyo stayed still.
"What is it?" Madara asked. "Forgot something?"
"You could say that." Kamiyo gave a cryptic smile. "Madara-sama… I'm not the only Uchiha who awakened the Mangekyō."
"What?" Madara's voice sharpened. "Your brother?"
Kamiyo shook his head. "No talent. Hasn't even awakened his Sharingan. But that's not who I meant…"
"Then who—?"
"Do you remember… back in the Warring States era… the Uchiha clan's sealed weapon?"
Madara froze.
He remembered. Before he became clan head, a girl named Uchiha Hikari had awakened the Mangekyō.
Her dōjutsu—Yachihoko—could mark enemies, steal chakra, and transmit it remotely. She could dominate minds and redirect energy across any distance.
Her power made her a threat—to friend and foe alike.
The elders caged her underground, only releasing her for war. Later, they forcibly implanted Amaterasu and Tsukuyomi into her. She became a weapon.
She lost her name, her freedom, her humanity.
She became Nameless—the Uchiha's ultimate weapon.
Her presence on the battlefield shifted the tide. The Senju and allied clans had to unite to stop her. After heavy losses, they sealed her away.
"You plan to release her?" Madara asked.
Kamiyo nodded. "She's like us. If we bring her in—under your leadership—we could rebuild the Uchiha. A new Uchiha."
"A new Uchiha…" The words stirred something deep in Madara.
"But we don't know where she's sealed."
"You don't," Kamiyo corrected. "But Konoha might."
He smirked. "There's a scroll—Warring States Sealing History—likely hidden beneath the Hokage Tower."
Madara hesitated. He'd just left Konoha on bad terms. Going back so soon would be… difficult.
Kamiyo stepped forward. "I'll go. I'll steal the scroll tonight."
"It's dangerous. What about the guards?"
"I slipped past them following you," Kamiyo said. "I'm good at staying out of sight."
"No wonder you weren't with me from the start… You'd planned this all along." Madara's tone turned contemplative.
He didn't like delays. After a moment's thought, he nodded.
They agreed: Kamiyo would infiltrate Konoha and retrieve the scroll before the moon reached its peak. Madara would wait outside.
Kamiyo's right eye shimmered.
The Mangekyō's pattern spun. Crimson veins bloomed across the sclera.
The sky turned to fire. Wind froze. Leaves hung midair.
Time halted.
From Kamiyo's perspective, his body stretched like silk through space, a ribbon leading back to Konoha.
He saw a "progress bar" of his path—each moment in the last five minutes, clear and traceable.
This was Tensho no Tokoshie.
He scrolled to the moment five minutes ago—hiding in tall grass near the village—and hit "play."
In a blink, he vanished.
Like a line erased from the page, Kamiyo was gone.
***