Madara’s Pride and the Feast of Fate

After witnessing Shouta Kazuki's casual display of power, summoning an entire villa out of thin air, Uchiha Madara let out a disdainful snort. Without saying another word, he turned on his heel and strode out of the luxurious residence, his frustration evident in the way his footsteps echoed against the wooden floor.

Shouta, however, was in no rush to chase after him. Instead, he calmly took a seat and began indulging in the vast spread of delicacies before him.

He had to admit, this place—this mysterious space—was beyond extraordinary. Every dish he conjured up was a masterpiece in its own right, boasting the perfect balance of color, aroma, and taste. It was as if he had an invisible team of top-tier chefs preparing meals for him at his mere whim.

In truth, Shouta wasn't even an expert in cooking. He didn't spend hours perfecting recipes or learning culinary techniques. Instead, he simply recalled various famous dishes from his memory and let his abilities do the rest.

"Steamed lamb, steamed bear paw, steamed deer tail, roasted flower duck, roasted chicken, roasted goose, braised pork, braised duck, soy sauce chicken, smoked bacon, pine nut tripe, dried meat, sausages, assorted sourdough..."

As he casually recited these names, they materialized before him—each dish more exquisite than the last, filling the room with mouthwatering aromas.

Meanwhile, outside the villa, Madara wasted no time. In just a short while, he returned carrying a freshly roasted leg of lamb, its meaty scent still lingering in the air.

It didn't take much guessing to figure out how he had prepared it. With his mastery over Fire Release Ninjutsu, Madara had undoubtedly roasted the meat with a single burst of flame before retrieving it.

However, the moment he stepped back inside and laid eyes on the feast spread across Shouta's table, his entire body stiffened. His gaze darted between the endless variety of perfectly cooked dishes and the slightly charred, unevenly roasted lamb leg in his hand.

For a long moment, he was silent.

Then, a deep sense of humiliation surged through him.

Damn it!

Damn it all!

Why hadn't he ever bothered to learn how to cook?!

Back when he was still leading the Uchiha clan, he had never needed to lift a finger when it came to meals. Servants had always ensured he had the finest food available. Even after forming Konoha, he had never once set foot in a kitchen. There had always been people handling such trivial matters.

And if he ever craved something different? Well, back then, he would shamelessly barge into Senju Hashirama's home. That idiot may have been his rival, but Uzumaki Mito's cooking was simply too good to pass up.

Now that he thought about it… even that insufferable Senju Tobirama used to sneak over just to steal a bite of her cooking.

But now?

Here he was, standing awkwardly in front of a grand feast prepared by a mere child, holding a burnt piece of meat in his hands.

He clenched his jaw, his fingers gripping the lamb leg so tightly that it was on the verge of crumbling.

This was unacceptable.

This was humiliating.

Madara Uchiha does not get outclassed… not even in cooking!

Yet, before he could throw the lamb leg away in sheer frustration, a sudden, sharp laugh rang through the room.

"PFFT—HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"

Shouta, still chewing on a piece of bear paw, had completely lost it. His shoulders shook as he laughed so hard he nearly dropped his chopsticks.

Madara's eye twitched violently.

"You damn brat!" He slammed his free hand on the table, his Sharingan flaring to life. "Are you mocking me?!"

Shouta wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes, still grinning. "Madara, stop being so stubborn. I just wanted to share a meal with you—why are you making this into a battle of pride?"

Madara scoffed. "Hah! As if I'd believe that! You think you can bribe me with food? Me? Uchiha Madara?!"

Shouta leaned back in his chair, a knowing smile on his lips. "Bribe you? Now, why would I do that? I don't expect anything from you just because I'm offering you a meal. I simply respect you—not just for your strength, but for your ideals."

His voice was calm, but his words carried weight.

Madara narrowed his eyes. "My… ideals?" His tone was laced with doubt, as if he had just heard something utterly ridiculous. "What could a brat like you possibly know about my ideals?"

Shouta didn't answer immediately. Instead, he casually grabbed a cold drink—a bottle of what looked like modern-day soda—popped it open, and took a long sip. Then, he met Madara's gaze and spoke in a measured tone.

"People do not only care for their relatives, nor do they only raise children for their own sake, but so that the elderly may live in peace, the strong may serve with purpose, the young may grow, and the weak—the widowed, the orphaned, the sick—may be cared for."

At first, Madara's expression remained indifferent. But as the words sank in, his eyes widened slightly. His hand, still holding the roasted lamb leg, trembled just a little.

Those words…

They weren't ordinary words.

They carried the weight of an ideal that struck at the very core of his being.

For a long time, he had dismissed Shouta as nothing more than a foolish child with delusions of grandeur. Even if the brat had the ability to summon legendary figures from the past, why would anyone follow him?

Why would the strongest of warriors listen to the commands of a mere boy?

And yet…

Yet, these words—the very picture Shouta painted—resonated deeply with him.

Because once upon a time, when he was just a young boy standing beside Hashirama Senju, this was the very future they had dreamed of.

A world where no child had to march off to war.

A world where the strong protected the weak.

A world where people didn't have to live in fear.

Could such a world… truly exist?

Madara clenched his fist. He had long abandoned that naive dream, knowing the cruelty of reality. But now, this brat—this Shouta Kazuki—was speaking as if he truly believed it could be achieved.

As if he were truly determined to make it a reality.

Madara took a deep breath, forcing himself to regain composure. Then, after a long silence, he let out a low chuckle.

"Tch… what an interesting brat."

With that, he tossed his charred lamb leg aside and took a seat across from Shouta.

For now, he would humor this kid.

For now… he would listen.

4o