He drew a ragged breath, the sword of Totsuka raised to fend off Madara's Gunbai as it descended upon Itachi's Susano'o. He looked up, tearing his gaze away from the weapon attempting to cleave him in two, and laid eyes upon the legendary shinobi, wielder of the rinnegan, known as Madara Uchiha. Madara chuckled lightly, but he and Itachi both knew that he was weakened. Sasuke, Naruto, Sakura, the five Kage, they had fought their parts, acted their section of the screenplay, but now the stage was Itachi and Madara's alone. All of them... tossed aside by this monster, this incarnation of the curse of hatred. The cracks were beginning to show for Madara however, his left arm severed by Kamui, his leg shattered by the combined power of the eight gates and the last wisps of sand from a dying Kazekage, his body covered with burns and bruises caused by internal bleeding that even Hashirama's DNA could not heal. He knew his time was short, but he also knew that if he could reach the tree, that somehow, he would become even more powerful, and nothing would be able to stop him. Only Itachi stood in his way, the prodigy, the last wielder of the sharingan, the last hope for all of humankind. Madara's face steeled as Itachi threw a weak amaterasu at him, pulling back his Gumbai with his one remaining arm to defend himself as the wave of fire washed over him. He shrugged off the most potent form of fire release as if it was nothing, before looking back up to see Itachi's Susano'o starting to melt and dwindle into nothing. "Oh? Out of chakra already?" He smirked, before frowning as he heard a low, quiet laughter come from Itachi, interrupted by dry, throaty coughs. "Oh dear last loyal Uchiha, what is it you find so funny?" Slowly, Itachi raised his head, his Eternal Mangekkyo spinning and releasing the genjutsu on the crow flying towards Madara. "Kotoamatsukami."

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