Jogendra's POV:
The Fire Country Annual Youth Ninja Competition had hit a boiling point, the quarter-finals carving the field down to four—me, Nejiko Hyūga, Shino Aburame, and Yammy Akimichi. The arena still thrummed with the echoes of my clash with Soifon Senju (Chapter 14), her Wood Style and sealing chains pushing me to unleash every trick in my arsenal. Now, a break had been called, the sun sinking low, casting long shadows over the training grounds turned bustling marketplace just outside the arena walls. Stalls sprouted like mushrooms—ramen steam curling into the air, yakitori sizzling, dango gleaming on trays—vendors shouting over the hum of shinobi and civilians unwinding after a day of blood and chakra.
My Father Madara, My Grandfather Tajima, and My Uncle Izuna flanked me as we wove through the chaos, their presence a steady anchor. My tunic clung to me, dusted with arena sand, the spicy tang of ramen broth pulling me back to earth after Soifon's relentless fight. My Father Madara's nod earlier had been a quiet flame in my chest, My Grandfather Tajima's pride a roaring fire, and My Uncle Izuna—well, he was My Uncle Izuna, grinning like a kid who'd just dodged a chore. "You're the star now, nephew," he said, flipping a kunai. "Soifon's licking her wounds, and the Senju are fuming."
My Grandfather Tajima's stern face cracked with a smirk. "Let them stew. Butsuma's pride's taking a beating."
My Father Madara's voice cut low, steady. "She tested you. You rose to it."
I nodded, savoring the rare praise as we settled at a rickety stall near the arena's edge. The vendor—a wiry man with a gap-toothed grin—waved us over. "Uchiha champs! Ramen's on me after that show!" I slid onto a stool, My Father Madara and My Uncle Izuna beside me, My Grandfather Tajima looming like a general. The broth hit my tongue—sharp, warm, a balm for the tension coiled in my shoulders.
My Uncle Izuna leaned in, smirking. "Soifon's got the whole market whispering. You've got fans now—or enemies."
I snorted, slurping noodles. "Good. Keeps it interesting."
My Observation Haki hummed, a faint ripple cutting through the noise. Across the marketplace, Soifon stood at a bun stall, her dark hair streaked with red catching the dying light. She'd traded combat gear for a light green tunic, but her presence was a river—calm surface, hidden depths. Her emerald eyes scanned the tray, thoughtful, unguarded. Respect flickered in me—she'd nearly had me with that Life Binding Seal (Chapter 14). Something else stirred too, unfamiliar, warm. I shook it off.
"Caught you staring," My Uncle Izuna teased, elbowing me. "Senju or not, she's got your eye."
"Scouting the competition," I muttered, shoving a skewer in my mouth. But my Haki sharpened—two auras prickled at the edge. Black Zetsu's cold menace slithered in the shadows, paired with something erratic, playful—White Zetsu. My gut tightened. Trouble.
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#### White Zetsu's POV
The market was a playground—noise, smells, a chaos I could twist into fun. I slunk under a cart, tendrils blending with the dirt, while Black Zetsu hovered nearby, his dark form a grumpy shadow. His yellow eye burned, tracking Jogendra and Soifon. "Too calm," I whined, my white half pouting. "They're just eating after all that fighting! Let's rattle them!"
"Focus," Black Zetsu rasped, voice like gravel. "Jogendra's Haki, his flames—they're wildcards. Soifon's seals complicate it. We need them shaken."
My black half giggled. "Shaken? How about tripped?" Before he could snap, I sank deeper, tendrils snaking toward Jogendra's stool. A little jolt, that's all—just to see him stumble. But the ground was uneven, my push wilder than planned. The earth bucked, a tremor surging under Jogendra *and* Soifon. "Oops!" I yelped, retreating as Black Zetsu's glare scorched me. "That's… bigger than I meant!"
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#### Jogendra's POV
The ramen was halfway gone when the ground jolted—sharp, chaotic, tipping my stool. I caught the counter, but a second quake hit, fiercer, throwing me off balance. Soifon stumbled too, her stall rocking, and we collided—my hands grabbed her shoulders, her gasp brushed my ear as we crashed against the bun stall. Our lips met.
It was fleeting—a warm, electric shock. Her breath hitched, soft against my mouth, her lips yielding for a split second. My pulse thundered, heat surging to my face as her jasmine scent flooded my senses. Her emerald eyes locked with mine, wide with shock, then softening—something unguarded flickering there. Time stretched, then snapped. I pulled back, steadying her, my voice rough. "Sorry—I didn't—"
Her cheeks flushed, composure cracking. "It's… fine." Her gaze darted, suspicion flaring. "That wasn't natural."
"No," I said, Sharingan spinning as I scanned. Black Zetsu's aura lingered, amused, White Zetsu's erratic pulse fading. Their handiwork—no doubt. The crowd murmured, oblivious, chalking it up to a random quake.
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#### Madara's POV
The break had been a rare respite, Jogendra's win over Soifon a quiet pride burning in me. Then the ground shook, and he crashed into her, their lips brushing. My chopsticks snapped, shock splintering my calm. My son—with a Senju? Fury flared—an Uchiha entangled with our oldest foe? Yet unease gnawed beneath—Jogendra was slipping beyond my reach, carving his own path. My Sharingan sought the cause, but the shadows hid their secrets.
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#### Izuna's POV
Mid-slurp, the tremor hit, and Jogendra stumbled into Soifon—lips locking in a clumsy, glorious mess. I choked on my ramen, laughter erupting as broth splattered. "Oh, this is priceless!" I wheezed, clutching the counter. My Brother Madara's glare could've torched the stall, but I couldn't stop—Jogendra's red face, Soifon's blush, perfection. Something triggered it, but who cared? This was comedy gold.
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#### Tajima's POV
The market's bustle had softened my edges, Jogendra's triumph swelling my chest. Then the earth quaked, and he fell into Soifon, their lips meeting. My breath caught—rage clashing with disbelief. My grandson, my heir, with a Senju? Old wounds bled anew—Butsuma's kin tainting my line? Yet her flush, his steadying hand—she'd matched him today. Respect crept in, grudging, unwanted. My fists tightened, torn.
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#### Tobirama's POV
The break had been a chance to regroup after Soifon's loss to Jogendra. She was my pride—my adopted daughter—and he'd bested her. Then the tremor threw her into him, their lips brushing. My blood froze, logic warring with instinct. An Uchiha, touching her? Anger sharpened, but her blush, his stammer—no scheme, just chaos. My senses stretched—no clear culprit. Not her fault, yet it festered.
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#### Hashirama's POV
The market's vibrancy had lifted me, a balm after the arena's strain. Then the quake hit, and Soifon collided with Jogendra—their kiss a fleeting spark. Shock melted into a wild grin—Senju and Uchiha, united by chance? My heart leapt—a bridge between clans, Soifon's Uzumaki blood tying us all. Tobirama's ice, Father's fury grounded me, but the dream bloomed—peace through love, reckless and radiant.
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#### Butsuma's POV
Skewering meat, I'd savored the break—then the earth shook, and Soifon crashed into Jogendra, lips meeting. Rage roared, my skewer splintering. Tajima's spawn, near my granddaughter? Scars pulsed with memory—Uchiha blood an insult. Her flush, his retreat—no intent, just chance. My glare hunted a cause, found none. This wouldn't stand.
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#### Black Zetsu's POV
White Zetsu's folly turned my nudge into a spectacle—Jogendra and Soifon's kiss a wrench in my plans. I'd aimed to unsettle, not unite. Madara's fury, Izuna's glee, Tajima's conflict—the Uchiha unraveled. Tobirama's chill, Hashirama's hope, Butsuma's wrath—the Senju fractured. My doing, unseen. This thread could snap them all.
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#### Jogendra's POV
The crowd's hum returned as I met Soifon's gaze, the kiss a silent pulse between us. My Father Madara's icy rage bored into me, My Uncle Izuna's laughter rang, My Grandfather Tajima's pride wrestled with fury. The Senju glared—Tobirama's cold steel, Hashirama's odd smile, Butsuma's snarl. Black Zetsu's amusement lingered, White Zetsu's chaos gone. No one else knew.
Soifon straightened, voice steady despite her flush. "Something triggered that. Not natural."
"Yeah," I said, pulse still hammering. "Felt… intentional." I held back White Zetsu's name—no proof yet.
She nodded, a faint smile breaking through. "Well, it's over now."
I smirked, warmth lingering. "Guess so." The vendor slid two bowls over, grinning. "For the champs—and the entertainment."
We took them, settling side by side—a truce born of chaos. "Semi-finals next," I said, breaking the quiet. "No holding back."
"None expected," she replied, tone firm, warm. Our shoulders brushed, a spark flickering—rivalry, respect, something more.
*Ding!* The System chimed. *Host has forged an unexpected bond. Rewards pending.*
I grinned into my ramen. The break was fading, the semi-finals calling. Black Zetsu's game, Soifon's presence—I'd face it all, head-on.
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