Konoha: The Thirty-Year-Old Uchiha Can’t Be Bothered

Chapter 331: If You Can’t Win, Then Just Go Dark

"Henshin!"

With the rhythmic chime of electronic tones, the Driver on Madara's waist lit up, a red-and-white fox crest glowing brightly. The next instant, a blinding flash burst out. Across from him, Hashirama instinctively raised his hand to shield his eyes, his heart already painting a grand picture—surely Madara's transformation as Kyūbi's knight would be magnificent.

The strongest Bijū deserved the flashiest knight, right?

"Hashirama, do you see it? This is my new form!"

But even before Hashirama's daydream ended, Madara's smug voice rang out. Eagerly he opened his eyes—and froze.

"Madara… this is… too…"

"Jealous? Just admit it! Don't worry, I'm generous—after I'm done beating you, I'll let you admire me all you want!"

No. This transformation was not handsome at all.

Hashirama's face scrunched as he looked up and down at Madara's body, now covered in a plain black armor with only a white fox mask for a head. He dared not speak his true thoughts, afraid to end the friendship with one blunt remark. This "Kyūbi Knight" form was painfully underwhelming.

"…Madara, have you looked in a mirror?"

Hashirama tried a subtle reminder, but Madara only planted his hands on his hips proudly, showing off his pitch-black suit.

"Enough chatter. Round three begins now. Hashirama, don't disappoint me!"

Fueled by Bijū chakra endlessly flowing into him, Madara's voice brimmed with confidence. As a knight, his speed and durability had surged. Before, he had to keep his Sharingan spinning just to dodge Hashirama's monstrous punches. Now, wrapped in armor, he felt invincible.

"Come on!"

Madara's battle intent blazed. Hashirama, too, nodded gravely. Sennin Mōdo (Sage Mode) enhanced his senses, and the unstable, explosive aura within Madara's armor warned him not to take this lightly.

Madara lunged forward—and vanished.

"Bang!"

Hashirama barely raised his guard before Madara's figure flickered behind him. Without hesitation, Madara slammed a knight's punch into Hashirama's back, aiming straight for the kidney.

"…Hnn."

A normal shinobi would've been shattered. But Hashirama didn't even flinch. Slowly, he turned his head, sage markings glowing at the corner of his eyes.

"Madara… that was a decent hit."

Madara's smugness cracked. "Impossible!"

He retreated, staring at his tingling fist in disbelief. That punch could shatter granite—why did Hashirama treat it like a tickle?

"Interesting. Again!"

Hashirama rushed in, swinging his massive fists. The gale alone screeched against Madara's fox mask.

In the past, he would've dodged. But now, with knight armor? He braced himself.

"Bang!"

Arms crossed, Madara blocked the monstrous strike. He was sent skidding back, feet gouging trenches, but—he was still standing.

"Hah! Hahahaha!"

Despite the smoke rising from his arms, Madara laughed wildly.

"Not bad, Madara!"

Hashirama's grin widened. Before Madara could even catch his breath, a second fist crashed into his gut.

"Ghhhk—!"

His organs felt like they shifted. He bent double, bile rising, but Hashirama's barrage didn't stop.

"Bam! Bam! Bam!"

"Ahhh… this…"

High on a nearby peak, Gin watched with Byakugan, clicking his tongue.

"Tsk, tsk… that's brutal."

He had no intention of intervening. That's what you get for charging in with base armor, ignoring what I said about the buckles. No proper sync with Kyūbi, and you thought you could flex? You needed this beating.

Madara crashed into the dirt, planted head-first like a broken doll.

"Phew! What a refreshing warm-up. Thanks, Madara!"

Hashirama beamed, hauling Madara out of the ground by his legs.

"Damn it all!"

Humiliated, Madara lashed out with a kick to Hashirama's chest and broke free. His silver fox-eyes glimmered red with rage. This knight system—garbage! It gave him false confidence, only for him to be used as a punching bag.

"Trash!"

He grabbed at the Driver to rip it off—then his fingers brushed the empty slots on its sides. Gin's words echoed in his mind. Buckles. He needed buckles.

Snatching up the case he'd tossed aside earlier, he found the two empty ones inside.

"Hashirama, I haven't lost yet!"

"Eh? Are you… addicted to being punched?"

Hashirama eyed him suspiciously. Had Madara awakened some strange… taste?

"Shut up. Our battle begins now."

He channeled katon chakra into one buckle. Red light flared, the heat palpable.

"Perfect."

He slotted it into his Driver.

"Set!"

"Boost!"

"Ready Fight!"

A blazing red armor half-formed on his body, then a claw reached out from behind, locking it into place with a hiss of steam.

"Get ready for—!"

"Vrrrm!"

"This is it! This is true knight power!"

Madara trembled with excitement. If only he'd done this earlier, he wouldn't have been pummeled like a fool.

"Now that's handsome, Madara!"

Hashirama admitted, impressed. Even half-armor, it was leagues better than the black void he'd worn before.

"Humph. You mean I wasn't handsome before?"

Engines roared on Madara's arms. He blurred into motion, a crimson bolt crashing into Hashirama.

"Boom!"

For the first time, Hashirama was blown back, scorch marks seared into his arm.

"…This punch… has fire chakra infused. Dangerous."

Madara surged again, steam and sparks spewing. Hashirama found himself on the defensive.

On the sidelines, Gin sat on a wooden stool munching sunflower seeds.

"Now that's more like it. Look at my handiwork—you see that? Even the God of Shinobi's on the ropes."

Back on the battlefield—

"Madara… I'll need to go serious now."

"Still bluffing? Pathetic."

But Hashirama's aura exploded, sage energy blazing.

His punch smashed Madara's mask sideways.

"You… weren't even serious before?!"

Madara gasped, bones cracking in his arm.

"Of course not! What kind of brother goes full-force right away?"

Hashirama laughed sheepishly.

Madara snarled. "That's insulting!"

Fueled by fury, he twisted the buckle.

"Boost Time!"

"Boost Grand Strike!"

Engines howled. He launched his ultimate knight's punch.

Hashirama's eyes lit up. "Madara… you really are the best."

"Senpō: Kaijūken (Sage Art: Monster Strength Fist)!"

Their fists collided.

"BOOOOM!"

The blast wave tore the land apart, Gin's sunflower seeds scattering into the wind. Both shinobi were hurled into the ground, smashing two deep craters.

"Cough… not bad, Madara."

Hashirama climbed out, battered but steady.

"Hashirama!!"

Madara lay broken in his crater, bones shattered, but his eyes still burned.

Gin shook his head. If he had more time with the system, he might've truly rivaled Hashirama.

Satisfied his cousin wasn't dead, Gin turned to leave—until his Byakugan caught something.

On the field, Madara staggered up. His arm was useless, but his other hand held a strange, black-blue buckle, oozing malice.

"…The hell? I didn't make that." Gin's eyes narrowed. That aura—familiar and sinister.

—Flashback—

At the pit's bottom, broken and despairing, Madara heard a whisper.

"Human… do you desire power?"

A voice, oily and indistinct, slithered in his ear.

From the shadows, the buckle he'd tossed away earlier rolled back—transformed by a dark light into something foul, heavy, and irresistible.

Despite himself, Madara reached for it.

The moment he touched it, his thoughts went black.

—Now—

"Set!"

Expression blank, Madara ripped out the red buckle and snapped the dark-blue one into place. It split into two, locking both sides of the Driver. His movements were stiff, puppet-like.

"Black Out!"

(End of Chapter)

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