Naruto: This Genius is Somewhat Ordinary-Chapter 356

Madara Uchiha was smiling.

Not the casual kind. The dangerous kind. The smile of someone who had finally found a fight worth remembering.

Earlier, Orochimaru’s words had only half-interested him. He had heard that the Sixth Hokage, Fujimoto Tōma, stood somewhere in the shadow of Hashirama’s legacy. Enough to warrant curiosity, not respect.

Now?

Now Madara understood.

"So this is the opponent you found for me, Orochimaru," Madara said, eyes burning with anticipation. "I approve."

Tōma met his gaze from midair, expression calm but tight with focus.

"I was about to say the same," Tōma replied evenly. "Madara Uchiha. I don’t hate this matchup."

The tension between them sharpened.

From Madara alone, Tōma felt something he hadn’t sensed from any of the previous Kage, or even the strongest figures of Konoha’s past. A genuine sense of danger. The kind that crawled up your spine and whispered that shortcuts wouldn’t work here.

So much for steamrolling the war with a single shadow clone.

Still.

Trying was non-negotiable.

"Heh... as long as you’re both satisfied," Orochimaru chuckled, clearly amused by how quickly things had escalated.

Below Tōma, the earth suddenly ruptured. Massive slabs of stone surged upward, and he landed on one of them without hesitation.

He wasn’t truly flying. Staying grounded gave him better control, better balance. In a fight like this, that difference mattered.

Madara observed him carefully.

Not true flight.

Not Susanoo.

Not Onoki’s Light-Weight technique either.

"So what’s holding you up there?" Madara wondered.

Tōma’s eyes flicked briefly to Madara’s Rinnegan, irritation flashing beneath his calm.

Troublesome.

The Rinnegan meant most ninjutsu would simply be absorbed. And as a chakra-based construct himself, this body’s greatest strength wasn’t raw physical durability. His trump cards were techniques.

Which made this fight... awkward.

Their gazes locked.

At the exact same moment, both formed hand seals.

The same ones.

Madara’s movements were smoother, honed by decades of battle. Tōma’s were fractionally rougher, but faster. Speed compensated for polish.

Their jutsu completed simultaneously.

"Fire Style: Majestic Destroyer Flame!"

A tidal wave of heat exploded outward. The air warped. Space itself seemed to bend under the pressure.

Below them, shinobi stared upward in horror as the sky vanished beneath an ocean of fire.

Not falling stone this time.

Flames.

This scale... this power... from both of them?

When the two infernos collided, the outcome became clear almost instantly.

Tōma’s fire pushed forward.

Only slightly. But unmistakably.

Madara’s eyes widened.

"That’s impossible."

Fire Style was the Uchiha’s domain. Losing a direct clash like this felt wrong on a fundamental level.

But it didn’t matter.

As the flames swallowed him, Madara didn’t move.

The Rinnegan activated, and the incoming fire was devoured whole, absorbed cleanly into nothingness.

That was when Madara realized something was off.

This wasn’t ordinary Fire Style.

"So that’s it..." Madara murmured. "Nature energy."

Sage-enhanced chakra.

To think someone after Hashirama had reached that realm again.

Surprising.

Tōma, meanwhile, was just as unsettled.

Even with Sage chakra reinforcing his Fire Style, the advantage wasn’t overwhelming. Against the Third Raikage, lightning had been absolute. Against the Second Mizukage, water had folded instantly.

But Madara?

Madara held the line.

Figures, Tōma thought, eyes narrowing. You’re built different.

Which was fine.

Because the fire was never meant to win.

As the last of the flames vanished into the Rinnegan, a figure was already there.

Too close.

Madara’s pupils shrank as Tōma’s fist came screaming toward him, lightning snapping violently around it.

No warning.

No wind-up.

Just impact.

So the Fire Style had been used to block his vision.

Madara understood immediately. This wasn’t Tōma’s first time fighting someone with a Rinnegan.

He laughed.

Blue chakra erupted around him as a skeletal Susanoo formed in an instant, armor plating assembling just in time.

Tōma’s punch hit.

The Susanoo shattered like glass.

Madara’s expression twisted as the blow slammed into his abdomen, sending him flying like a cannonball. Stone pillars disintegrated on contact as his body tore through them, unable to stop.

Tōma hovered in place, eyes gleaming.

Hit confirmed.

People liked to assume his physical combat was weaker without his real body.

They were wrong.

No rule said he couldn’t combine Sage chakra, Lightning Release, and monstrous chakra control into one blow.

An incomplete Susanoo was never going to survive that.

Tōma vanished.

Madara had barely begun to stabilize when a presence appeared beside him.

Before he could turn—

A knee drove into his side, redirecting his trajectory straight upward.

This strength... Madara realized grimly. It’s beyond Hashirama’s.

Not brute force alone. Technique, timing, and efficiency fused into instinct.

This was Tōma’s power. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

Above him, Tōma clasped his hands together and brought them down like a hammer.

The impact cracked Madara’s skull.

He plummeted.

Harder. Faster.

And Tōma wasn’t done.

He blinked again, reappearing inside a more complete Susanoo that Madara had managed to activate mid-fall, and kicked him straight out of it.

Without Madara’s chakra sustaining it, the Susanoo collapsed instantly.

"So that’s how it works," Madara muttered, battered but thoughtful. "If I weren’t an Edo body... I’d be paste."

Below, shinobi swallowed nervously.

Madara hadn’t gotten weaker.

The Sixth Hokage was just that strong.

Onoki stared in disbelief. The Madara who had once humiliated him was being tossed around like a training dummy.

Orochimaru frowned.

It can’t end like this.

Right on cue—

"Shinra Tensei!"

Repulsive force erupted outward, blasting everything away.

Tōma retreated, skidding back through the air.

Madara couldn’t maintain it forever. Edo Tensei or not, the Rinnegan had limits.

Tōma prepared to strike again the moment it ended—

Then he froze.

Madara stood there, hair wild, body wrecked... laughing.

Flames erupted around him, consuming his form.

And the Flying Thunder God mark vanished.

Tōma exhaled slowly.

"...You burned yourself down to erase it. Of course."

The seal he had refined couldn’t be removed. Not surgically. Not with chakra.

But Madara didn’t care.

An immortal body made extreme solutions viable.

"Tch," Tōma muttered. "That’s annoying."

The advantage was gone.

Ninjutsu would be absorbed. Physical combat required setup. And Madara now understood the danger.

As the flames died down, both men faced each other again.

The war hadn’t ended.

It had only stopped breathing.