Third Person
*Haaa* *Haaa* *Haaa*
Isshin's breaths came in heavy and labored, the aftermath of the battle settling over the battlefield like a thick fog. His stance remained upright, proud—unshaken. His gaze swept over the devastation in front of him: the ruined landscape, debris scattered everywhere, and the still bodies of the Uchiha brothers lying motionless. He exhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling rhythmically as the silence began to stretch out.
"That was quite an entertaining battle, don't you agree, Madara?" he said with a smirk, knowing full well that only a shinobi like Madara Uchiha could push him to such limits.
But there was no response. The once overwhelming, fearsome presence of Madara seemed to have vanished. The dark-haired shinobi lay on his back, the unmistakable pattern of the Sharingan in his eyes dimming as they flickered between consciousness and oblivion.
"...Did he pass out?" Isshin's tone was almost incredulous, tilting his head slightly as he wiped the blood from his sword on his sleeve.
Turning his attention away from the lifeless form of Madara, Isshin's gaze shifted toward Izuna. The younger Uchiha lay nearby, seemingly unconscious, but Isshin's sharp eyes picked up on the faint, almost imperceptible rise and fall of his chest. A chuckle escaped his lips.
"Izuna, I know you're awake," he said, his voice filled with amusement. "After all, I never hit you as hard as I hit Madara."
The sound of heavy breathing filled the air as Izuna's eyes cracked open, his Sharingan still faintly glowing. He struggled to sit up, a grimace of pain crossing his face, though he tried to hide it behind a mask of defiance. Isshin watched him carefully, his own eyes calculating. There was something about Izuna's resilience that fascinated him—he was a fighter to the end, just like his brother.
"You always were more stubborn than him," Isshin mused, sheathing his sword with a smooth motion, as if the battle had been nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
Izuna glared at him, his pride too strong to allow for any signs of weakness. "Don't flatter yourself," he rasped, his voice raw but steady. "You won't be so lucky next time."
Izuna's fists clenched as he tried to push himself to his feet, but his body betrayed him. His legs trembled under the weight of his injuries, and he fell back to his knees, cursing under his breath. Isshin walked forward, standing over him, but there was no malice in his eyes—just an odd mix of respect and pity.
Isshin
"You're strong, Izuna," Isshin acknowledged, "but you'll need more than strength to beat me. I respect your spirit, though. It's what makes the Uchiha clan so… interesting."
A long, tense silence hung between them. Isshin knew the battle was over, but there was no joy in victory—just the cold satisfaction that came with knowing he had proven his strength once more. He turned his back to Izuna, his eyes shifting to the horizon.
"Rest up," he called over his shoulder. "The next time we cross paths, I expect more from both of you."
"What are you doing? Kill them, this is our chance." Tobirama appeared behind him holding his sword aggressively questioning Isshin's intention as he was not finishing them off.
Isshin's voice was steady, almost dismissive as he shot down Tobirama's command. "Tobi, haven't you already lost to them? Besides, they have a bigger role to play in our plan." The firmness in his tone left no room for argument, causing Tobirama to frown deeply. The younger Uchiha, standing nearby, mirrored his expression, perplexed by Isshin's confidence.
Izuna, breaking free from his dazed state, managed to speak as he noticed him being mentioned. "...What plan?"
A smirk tugged at Isshin's lips. "Are you interested, boy?"
Izuna remained silent, unsure of how to respond.
"Well," Isshin continued, leaning slightly forward, "for that, you'll have to answer a few of my questions first. Tell me, the Senju and Uchiha—rivals, correct?"
"The two clans hav—"
"No," Isshin cut him off sharply, his voice demanding more thought. "Think harder."
Izuna clenched his fists, his mind racing. "The Senju... they've killed many of my clanmates—"
"No." Again, Isshin interrupted, his tone final.
Izuna fell silent, his confusion deepening as his eyes narrowed.
Isshin sighed, then spoke with a weighty patience. "Allow me to enlighten you, brat. The Senju clan draws their strength from love, but the Uchiha... their power, it's tied to their jutsu, right?" He paused, watching Izuna closely. "The truth is, no clan feels deeper love than the Uchiha."
Izuna's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?" Perplexed by the statement he was even more puzzled.
"When an Uchiha experiences love, it's as if every other emotion they've ever felt is unlocked, surging forward in a torrent of power and affection. Love so intense it surpasses even that of the Senju."
Isshin's gaze sharpened as he continued, his voice darker now. "But... there's a flaw. Even with such overwhelming love, shinobi like you, like all others, breed hate. The Uchiha are no exception."
Izuna's throat tightened as he listened, the weight of Isshin's words sinking in. Isshin's insane strength, deep words, knowledgeable and mysterious persona was making Izuna more vary of him than even Senju themselves.
"The problem lies in this: when an Uchiha loses that deep love, it is replaced by something far more dangerous. Hate, so consuming that it twists them entirely."
Isshin's voice grew quieter, almost like a warning. "When an Uchiha rises from the loss of love or from disappointment, a unique chakra is released in their brain. This chakra reacts with the optic nerves..."
Izuna's eyes widened as Isshin's words sank in the same way for Tobirama who rarely showed expression. For both of them Isshin looked like a sage who knew more than them.
"It changes their eyes," Isshin finished coldly. "Sharingan." Izune uttered.
"The eyes that reflect the heart," Isshin added, staring directly at Izuna now. "And once those eyes awaken, they feed on that person's heart, rapidly increasing their power along with their hatred."
"The deeper the honesty with their emotions, the stronger their visual prowess becomes—until, eventually, they're unstoppable."
Isshin leaned back, his expression unreadable. "There's more to the Sharingan than what you know. But we'll get to that later."
Izuna stood frozen, his mind reeling with the implications of what Isshin had said. The truth felt so close, yet maddeningly just out of reach.
Isshin eyed him, waiting for a reaction. "Still don't get it?"
Izuna stared at him, roughly breathing.
"In short," Isshin continued, his tone turning bitter, "people are using your clan. Exploiting your powers for their own selfish gains. The same thing happened to us—Uzumaki, Senju, all of us. But now, we've broken free from that cycle of hatred. But you?" He paused, letting the words settle. "Are you free from such shackles?"
Isshin's gaze shifted briefly toward Tobirama, his expression hard. 'Still, there are exceptions,' he thought, eyeing the silent, white-haired Senju.
Izuna stammered, unsure of himself for the first time in a long while. "...I- we..."
Isshin took a step closer, his voice low but firm. "Here's your invitation. I can only help those willing to help themselves. Those who believe they can rise above this cycle of hate. You could be part of something far greater—something that will change the world and its perspective."
Without waiting for a response, Isshin turned to leave, but not before tossing a small vial toward Izuna. "Take this. Give it to Madara. Without it, he won't survive his injuries." Isshin bluffs.
And with that, Isshin walked away with other Senju's, his figure disappearing into the distance, leaving Izuna standing in stunned silence.