7 Clash of Titans

(Hanma Yujiro POV)

We stood there, three towering figures, in the Valley of the End.

Hashirama Senju and Madara Uchiha—names that echoed through the shinobi world—faced me.

This was the moment of truth.

"So, who's gonna step up first?" I growled, my gaze bouncing between Hashirama and Madara.

The tension was so thick, you could cut it with a kunai.

Hashirama's expression was unwavering, his eyes harboring the same intensity as the trees surrounding us.

"I'll go first."

Madara nodded, his Sharingan swirling like a storm.

"Very well, Hashirama. Warm him up for me."

And so it began. Hashirama Senju and I stood face to face.

We started with taijutsu, a dance of fists and feet.

Hashirama's moves were primal, like he was channeling the very energy of the earth.

He struck with a force that was both calculated and instinctive.

I met his attacks head-on, my body responding with a fluidity that came from a lifetime of battles.

Every punch, every kick, carried with it the weight of countless martial arts techniques.

It was as if the culmination of every form, every style, was embodied in my every movement.

Hashirama's strikes were fierce, his power undeniable.

But I wasn't just some random brawler.

I am Hanma Yujiro—the embodiment of raw power and mastery.

Each blow I landed reverberated through the air, force that painted the valley with its intensity.

It wasn't just about strength—it was about understanding, strategy, and the will to win.

Hashirama's techniques were rooted in nature, while mine drew from the culmination of human martial prowess.

With a final strike, I managed to break through Hashirama's defense.

His expression was one of respect, a nod that acknowledged my strength.

"Impressive, Hanma Yujiro."

As Hashirama stepped back, it was Madara's turn.

The Uchiha's gaze was a whirlpool of intensity, a maelstrom that held generations of power and ambition.

The air around us crackled with anticipation as our eyes locked.

Madara lunged, his speed and precision a testament to his Sharingan's power.

His strikes were calculated, each movement honed through experience and mastery.

But I was no stranger to battles that tested the limits of human capability.

I weaved through his attacks, my body a storm of counters and evasions.

Every punch I landed was a testament to the countless hours I had spent perfecting the art of combat.

The sheer force of my blows was enough to send shockwaves through the earth beneath us.

Madara's Sharingan tracked my movements, but even that legendary eye couldn't predict the sheer unpredictability of my style.

And then, in a moment that felt like the culmination of everything, I landed a final blow.

Madara stumbled back, his gaze a mix of surprise and acknowledgement.

"You're not just a brawler, Hanma Yujiro."

As we caught our breath, the valley seemed to exhale alongside us.

The clash of strength had left its mark, the echoes of our battle resonating through the air.

Hashirama and Madara, legends of their time, stood before me as equals—as warriors who had faced the storm and emerged unyielding.

.

.

.

After the exchange with Hashirama and Madara, I felt a simmering energy within me.

Their strength was undeniable, and yet, I knew there was more to test—more to prove.

I grinned, a challenge burning in my eyes.

"You two done warming up?" I rumbled, my voice carrying across the valley.

Hashirama and Madara exchanged a glance.

"We're ready," Hashirama nodded, his expression a mix of determination and focus.

'His Taijutsu is a lot better than us but...I think we can corner him if we work together.'

Madara frowned, 'I don't want to work with Hashirama but right now we're the guardian of Konoha, we can't show weakness albeit it's still two against one.'

I backed up a bit, putting some distance between us.

The anticipation was thick in the air, like the calm before a storm.

"Let me grace you guys with something."

I gathered my energy, letting it flow through me, infusing every fiber of my being.

And then, I unleashed it.

My muscles surged, my demonic aura that resonated with my bloodline.

"Madara! Hashirama!"

Hashirama whispered to Madara.

"Madara! His back!

It's look like...a crying demon?"

I grinned.

Then, I channeled my crimson chakra into my attacks, infusing my strikes with an otherworldly force.

"Hashirama! Don't you feel that his chakra is quite weird?

It feels like...chakra of a Tailed Beast!" Madara shouted.

.

.

.

This form was only shown with people who excite me...or the one that annoy me.

But in this case, it's surely excitement and my excitement seems to match the intensity of this battle.

"Come at me, both of you!"

Hashirama and Madara shared a glance, a flicker of cooperation that spoke volumes.

They charged, their movements coordinated and seamless.

Hashirama faced me with his sturdy physique, while Madara focused on precise calculated moves as their main attack.

As their attacks rained down upon me, I met them head-on, just like always.

Every punch, every kick—they were like waves crashing against a rock, and I was the unyielding force that stood against them.

After, a series combos that went back and forth, we paused.

Madara amused, "Heh, it seems you're quite powerful in Taijutsu.

Let me show why Uchiha is called one of the best!

Inton: Illusion Coating!"

Hashirama joined, "Oho, it seems we need to bring out all of our card.

Yohton: Divine Mantra!"

I was thrilled, "Excellent! Give me more! Madara! Hashirama!"

The battle was fierce, the energy crackling in the air like a storm that refused to be contained.

Hashirama's strength seems to increase exponentially while Madara's confused me with illusions bestowed by his jutsu.

I met Hashirama punch with my own and for the first time during our fight, I was pushed back.

My strength coupled with my chakra enhancement is weaker than him, hmph!

Then, Madara rushed and kick me in the back of my head.

'What in Baki is happening...hm, Genjutsu!'

After his initial hit, he barrage me with his punch and kick but I can't block or evade any them.

'How can I solve this...if I wanted to focus on his 'real' body, he'll make his body not real.

But if I focused on his unreal body, he'll just barrage me with his real body.

And when he used his real body, his feints are not feint, they are real.

Although, the punches themselves were more annoying than actually hurtful to me.

I think my grin just become wider...'

The battle intensified, the intensity of our battle reached a crescendo.

The valley seemed to tremble in response to our power.

We were warriors, three forces of nature converging in a maelstrom of strength and will.

It was a battle that pushed the limits of human capability, a collision of power and legacy.

The legacy of a thousand-year-old clan and my own legacy.

As their attacks surged, I channeled my energy into every strike.

"Uragh!"

Their combined strength was a challenge I welcomed, a chance to prove that I could become stronger.

I wasn't just a fighter—I AM HANMA YUJIRO!

.

.

.

And then, in that moment, I sensed something.

A silhouette, behind me.

It was fleeting, like a mirage that vanished as soon as it appeared.

But I knew—it was the manifestation of my strength, the Demon.

My grin widened, the realization made me laughed.

"Uhuhahahahahaha!"

I turned, facing Hashirama and Madara with vigor.

"Is that all you've got?"

The Demon empowered me, I rushed towards them and my fist met their body with an a force that defied explanation.

Both of them were punched and created a crater.

Then, I realized that my forearm musculature looked like a crying demon.

And then, as the battle raged on, a shadow loomed behind me once more.

An demon, with a crying face—my strength personified.

The demon silhouette appeared to blend with my entire body, its demonic body right in front of mine.

It was a symbol of the power I held within, my chakra seems to bring my soul out.

For a brief moment, it materialized, a silhouette that screamed fear.

And then, it vanished, leaving behind the echo of its presence.

Both Madara and Hashirama got up, they seems not hurt.

The battle paused, but now, it was different.

I sensed a connection to something primal, something that belongs to me, yet it feels distant.

'I'll make them my b*tch!'