Do You Want To Dance Too?

At that moment, Kirito withdrew from his thoughts as Uchiha Madara advanced toward him, slow and deliberate, the crimson glow of the Sharingan radiating an ominous killing intent that blanketed the battlefield. But Kirito's face betrayed no fear; his calm, steady gaze revealed a man utterly unshaken by the figure approaching him.

In truth, Kirito knew the man before him was no legend reborn. This was no Uchiha Madara. It was Uchiha Obito, a pretender hiding behind the mask of an ancient terror. A sly grin tugged at the corner of Kirito's lips as an idea formed in his mind. If Obito's deception were to unravel here, in front of everyone…

Kirito's voice broke the tense silence, laced with a playful edge. "Masked man, do you want to dance too?"

Obito froze mid-step. His Sharingan narrowed, and for the first time, hesitation flickered across his movements. The words hung in the air, confusing most of the onlookers. Orochimaru's smug demeanor faltered as he failed to grasp Kirito's intent. Even the resurrected Senju Hashirama, who had been quietly observing, raised an eyebrow before realization dawned.

The First Hokage chuckled softly, his voice steady. "Ah, I see now. Madara's arrogance knew no bounds. He would often challenge his opponents with such words—'Do you want to dance?' But this... this man," Hashirama gestured toward Obito, "is not Madara."

Kirito turned to Hashirama, his grin widening. "Exactly. Tell me, Lord First—would the proud Uchiha Madara ever hide his face behind a mask?"

Hashirama didn't hesitate. "Never. To Madara, hiding would be an insult to his pride. He believed his name alone was enough to strike fear into the hearts of the ninja world."

The battlefield stilled. Suspicion grew in the minds of the gathered shinobi as Hashirama's words dismantled the facade. Orochimaru, who had placed his trust in the so-called Madara, narrowed his eyes. "Are you really Madara?" he hissed. "Would the man I allied with truly stoop to wearing a mask?"

The tension around Obito thickened. His hands clenched into fists as he fought to suppress his rising panic. Uchiha Itachi and Hoshigaki Kisame, lurking in the shadows as silent spectators, exchanged knowing glances. Kirito's accusations aligned too closely with their own doubts about their supposed leader.

Obito's silence was deafening, and the doubts of his allies and enemies alike mounted. Kirito seized the moment, his voice calm but cutting. "Your silence speaks volumes. But it's fine. You don't need to explain anything. Your actions will."

Obito's composure finally snapped. "Enough," he snarled, his Sharingan spinning violently, evolving into the Mangekyō Sharingan. Space warped around him as he disappeared in a swirl of distortion, only to reappear inches from Kirito with kunai in hand, aiming for his heart.

The attack came swift and precise, but Kirito didn't flinch. At the critical moment, his body shimmered, transforming into golden light as the kunai passed harmlessly through him. The onlookers gasped as Kirito reappeared, unscathed, a faint glow still radiating from his frame.

"You…" Obito stammered, his voice trembling with confusion. "How? Space-time jutsu? No—this is something else entirely!"

Kirito's grin returned, sharper than before. "You're not the only one with tricks, Obito."

The deliberate use of his true name caused Obito to falter. His Sharingan flickered, betraying the inner turmoil Kirito's words had caused. But before he could retort, Kirito turned his gaze to Orochimaru, who had been observing in stunned silence.

"Orochimaru," Kirito began, his tone almost conversational, "you've been so focused on killing Sarutobi Hiruzen, haven't you? Do you ever wonder what it feels like to kill someone who once taught you?"

Orochimaru's eyes narrowed, confused by the sudden shift. "What are you getting at, Kirito?"

Kirito smirked. "I'm not the one to ask. Why don't you ask him?" He gestured toward Obito. "He knows exactly what it feels like, doesn't he?"

The color drained from Obito's face. His breathing quickened as panic set in. "I am Uchiha Madara," he barked, his voice wavering. "I've never—"

"No," Kirito interrupted, his voice sharp and resolute. "You *are* Uchiha Obito. You're the man who killed his own teacher—Minato Namikaze, the Fourth Hokage."

The battlefield fell deathly silent. All eyes were on Obito now, his Mangekyō Sharingan spinning wildly as if to deny the truth Kirito had exposed. Kakashi's face turned pale, his visible eye widening in shock. The name of his former comrade, spoken aloud, brought with it a flood of painful memories.

"You..." Kakashi whispered, his voice trembling. "Obito... it's really you?"

Obito stood frozen, the weight of his crumbling facade pressing down on him. Kirito took a step forward, his voice soft yet cutting like a blade. "For someone who calls himself Madara, you sure seem to panic easily."

The cracks in Obito's disguise were now undeniable, and the once-mighty aura he exuded was all but shattered. With every passing second, Kirito's calm demeanor stood in stark contrast to Obito's unraveling composure.

This battle was no longer just one of strength. It was a war of truth—and Kirito was winning.