He felt every muscle in his body strain against the invisible bonds, every fiber of his being screaming in defiance, but it was useless. He was as firmly bound as if he were caught in an unbreakable net.

Uchiha Madara's face became a thundercloud of fury, the anger radiating from him so palpable it seemed to distort the very air around him. He glared, his eyes like bolts of lightning piercing through the gloom, shooting straight at the seemingly ordinary "little brat" who had so easily subdued him. His heart churned with a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming rage. To be resurrected, only to be suppressed so easily, so utterly, by a seemingly insignificant opponent before he could even begin to realize his grand design... it was an indignity beyond comprehension.

"If only... if only my own eyes were still here..."

Madara looked down, a wave of unwilling fury washing over him. He realized with dawning horror that the eyes in his sockets were not his own; they resonated with the Sage's chakra, as if they were mere copies created by the boy himself. That was why his Rinnegan had uncontrollably regressed. If he had his original eyes, this battle would never have ended so humiliatingly.

His hands were clenched into fists, his nails digging so deeply into his palms that blood oozed from the wounds, but he felt no pain. The raging inferno in his heart was far more unbearable than any physical agony.

The Sage of Six Paths stood aside, his eyes deep and calm, as if he had already seen through everything. He chuckled, a soft, knowing sound that grated on Madara's pride, each note a deliberate strike against his self-esteem.

"How is it, boy? Have you calmed down now?" he asked, his voice holding the gentle condescension of an elder speaking to a petulant child.

Hearing the ancient voice coming from such a young body, both Madara and Hashirama were stunned. A look of deep thought crossed Madara's face. They knew, then, that the being before them was no mere child, but an ancient monster occupying a child's body.

Madara narrowed his eyes, his voice a low growl. "Who in the hell are you?" He searched his memories, but he could find no record of another Uchiha who had awakened the Rinnegan. No... if it is the Rinnegan... could he be... the legend himself?

A look of shocked disbelief crossed Madara's face. "You... you are the Sage of Six Paths?"

Though he asked it as a question, he was already ninety percent certain. And the realization was staggering. The era of the Sage was at least a thousand years in the past. This being had lived for a millennium. But as his gaze fell on the Sage's tiny vessel, Madara's shock was instantly replaced by a deep, visceral contempt. He had achieved immortality by stealing the bodies of others. Madara despised such a weakness from the very bottom of his soul. Even if this being was his ancestor, Madara's pride would never allow him to associate with such a creature.

The slow-witted Hashirama, finally catching up, looked on in shock. "Madara, you said he's the Sage of Six Paths? That's... impossible!"

Madara shot his old friend a look of pure disdain, his disgust for the man's intelligence palpable. He ignored Hashirama completely, his attention fixed solely on the Sage. Feeling the familiar sting of his best friend's contempt, a familiar cloud of dejection settled over Hashirama.

"Yes," the Sage of Six Paths said, a flicker of surprise in his own eyes, though he nodded in confirmation. "I am the Sage of Six Paths." He then offered a kind, benevolent smile. "And at the same time, I am also the common ancestor of you both."

"What?!" Hashirama was shocked again. He found it unbelievable that their two warring clans, the Uchiha and the Senju, shared a common ancestor. If we come from the same line, then why have our clans been feuding for centuries? Either this 'Sage' is a liar, or there's a story here we don't know. But his confusion was quickly replaced by a simple, joyous thought. "So Madara and I are actually blood brothers! That's great!"

A series of black lines appeared on Madara's face. He turned his head away, too lazy to even acknowledge the idiot. "How could I possibly be related to such a fool? Impossible! Absolutely impossible!" he raged internally. He had already seen the stone tablets in the Uchiha shrine; he knew the Sage was their ancestor, so he was not surprised. This 'Sage', however, was another matter entirely.

Seeing himself ignored again, Hashirama sulked in his trademark corner of gloom, the world turning gray around him.

The Sage laughed. "Not only are you two my descendants, but you are also the reincarnations of my two children, Ashura and Indra."

Though they were merely pawns he had created to sow war and harvest souls, they were, undeniably, his children.

"I see," Madara said, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. He was beginning to believe. "So that explains it. The inescapable bond, the endless cycle of conflict between myself and Hashirama." Still, he couldn't understand why the Sage would resurrect them both.

"Even if you are truly the Sage of Six Paths," he asked, his voice sharp and direct, "what do you intend to do by bringing us back?" He didn't believe for a second that the Sage had simply missed his sons and wanted to see them again. There had to be a purpose. And despite their shared blood, he did not trust this man.

The Sage smiled kindly and stated his purpose directly. "A man has appeared in the Ninja World who will drag the entire world into an endless, bloody war. His strength is immense. For the sake of peace, I have no choice but to resurrect you to fight him."

Hearing this, Madara's eyebrows shot up, a hint of a cruel smile on his face. "Your strength is greater than both of ours combined. You crush us with a glance, yet you need our help to fight this man?" He felt a great interest in this mysterious person. The notion that this god-like being needed their help was utterly laughable.

Hashirama, too, looked on with a confused expression, his head tilted in curiosity.