Hoshiyomi sheathed his sword and turned to face Madara without saying a word.
Madara looked at Hoshiyomi's calm figure, his expression a mixture of irritation and eager excitement—but in the end, his face was overtaken by deep helplessness.
Feeling the sharp pain spreading through his body from utter exhaustion, Uchiha Madara slowly shook his head.
"Since Hashirama, you're the first person to make my blood boil like this.
I truly wish I could fight you again at my full strength…
but unfortunately, there's no time left."
As he spoke, the pattern of his Mangekyō Sharingan began to fade, losing all its luster.
The massive Susanoo surrounding him—already torn apart by Ultimate: Swallow Return—trembled violently before collapsing completely, dispersing into countless purple-blue flames that vanished into the air.
Madara fell from the sky, too drained even to land gracefully.
He struggled for a long while before managing to prop himself up on one knee.
When he looked toward Hoshiyomi, there was no bitterness or frustration in his eyes—
only calm acceptance and unshakable resolve.
He knelt down formally in a samurai's posture, bowing slightly toward Hoshiyomi.
"It's a shame that today's battle couldn't be more satisfying.
But defeat is defeat.
For the vanquished, all excuses are meaningless.
Come, Gekko Hoshiyomi—
the only person in the shinobi world today whom I acknowledge.
You have defeated me.
You deserve the honor of ending me with your own hands.
Do it."
With that, Madara slowly closed his eyes, his demeanor calm and resolute—
a man ready to face death without regret.
Hoshiyomi looked at Madara kneeling silently before him and was momentarily overwhelmed by the weight of his presence.
In that instant, he seemed to understand Madara more deeply than ever.
To be honest, Hoshiyomi himself didn't have much strength left.
The combined drain of Sage Mode and the Seventh Gate was immense, and that final strike—Swallow Return—had consumed almost all of his remaining energy.
He was already at his limit.
If this were any other opponent, they might have risked their life for one last desperate attack.
But Madara did not.
He simply accepted death with dignity.
It wasn't that his will to fight had vanished—
he merely found the idea of a pitiful struggle beneath him.
He was Uchiha Madara.
Such disgrace was not his way.
Even though Hoshiyomi knew Madara had secret plans for his resurrection,
he couldn't help but feel genuine respect for the man's composure in this moment.
Facing him, Hoshiyomi unconsciously let go of all distractions.
He wanted, as Madara had said, to give his opponent a clean, honorable death.
He drew Mikazuki Munechika once more.
Seeing Madara's aged face reflected on the blade, Hoshiyomi's expression turned solemn as he thrust the sword forward.
The blade pierced through Madara's heart—yet very little blood spilled.
Most of Madara's life force had already been spent in their final battle.
Madara looked down at the sword in his chest, his eyes fearless—still sharp and proud, like a lone wolf.
Hoshiyomi withdrew his blade cleanly and slid it back into its sheath.
At that same moment, Madara spoke his final words:
"Well done.
But this isn't the end.
I hope that when next we meet…
you can make me enjoy the fight even more."
As he finished, his body toppled forward with a dull thud.
A gentle breeze swept past, rustling the hem of Hoshiyomi's robe.
But he did not move, did not speak.
He simply stood there, gazing at Madara's fallen body for a long, silent moment.
Then, at last, Hoshiyomi bowed deeply toward the corpse—
and turned to leave without looking back.
As he walked away, something caught his attention.
He suddenly spun around—just in time to see a figure streaking into the ground, its body white and green.
Hoshiyomi's lips curved into a faint smirk.
In a flash, he drew Mikazuki Munechika again and slashed toward the ground.
A burst of sword energy tore into the earth—
and a second later, a shadowy figure, missing an arm, burst out in a panic.
Hoshiyomi had already predicted his exact escape point.
He reached out with lightning speed—
and caught the intruder by the throat.
He was staring the struggling White Zetsu up and down.
Hoshiyomi could now be fairly certain—this was the Venus Flytrap White Zetsu.
The same White Zetsu whose true body in the Akatsuki was a bit stronger than the normal White Zetsu.
Looking at the panicked White Zetsu, Hoshiyomi almost imperceptibly pursed his lips. What a pity. Black Zetsu isn't on him. Still unwilling to give up, Hoshiyomi extended his sensory abilities and searched the surroundings once more. Finding no trace, Hoshiyomi finally shook his head in resignation.
Of course—Black Zetsu was too sly to expose himself so early.
Besides, even if he found Black Zetsu, there didn't seem to be much he could do. As the will of Kaguya-hime, Black Zetsu could only be sealed by Six Paths ninjutsu; there didn't appear to be any other effective way to deal with him.
Comforting himself with that thought, Hoshiyomi's irritation eased considerably. He looked down at the White Zetsu he'd nearly crushed with his grip and let go, a small smile forming at the corner of his lips.
The Venus Flytrap White Zetsu dropped to his knees and coughed violently, staring at Hoshiyomi in disbelief. He really hadn't expected Hoshiyomi not to kill him outright—he'd thought he was done for a moment ago.
But White Zetsu didn't dare run. He knew all too well that playing dead might spare him, but if he tried to flee, his fate would be uncertain.
Watching the creature's awkward attempt to run yet not dare to, Hoshiyomi found it faintly amusing. He shook his head—this felt a bit bland.
Killing White Zetsu would've been as easy as snapping his fingers; the creature posed no real threat. It would be more useful to make him carry a message. With that in mind, Hoshiyomi gave White Zetsu a light kick and said:
"Scram. I'm not interested in killing you right now."
Hearing this, the Venus Flytrap White Zetsu felt as if he had received a royal pardon. He immediately tried to submerge into the ground, but when he was halfway through, Hoshiyomi's voice suddenly rang out again:
"Wait. Tell Black Zetsu a message for me."
White Zetsu froze mid-escape. He hesitated for a long beat, then grudgingly popped his head out—he dared not disobey Hoshiyomi when his life depended on it.
Watching the way White Zetsu behaved, Hoshiyomi suddenly understood why the creature could rise to become the true White Zetsu: he was very good at currying favor.
Grinning a little, Hoshiyomi said:
"Go back and tell Black Zetsu: if he still has the nerve to continue with his plan, he'd better make sure he's hidden well. If I catch him by mistake, he knows what'll happen.
"And he'd better abandon any idea of threatening my friends or their families—he absolutely can't handle the consequences of that."