A/N: This pilot is inspired by my renewed interest in Wuxia, and is going to draw very heavily from the genre, particularly the works of the late Louis Cha (or "Jinyong" in Mandarin) such as the "Condor Trilogy" and "Demi Gods and Semi-Devils."

Depending on how I feel, I may make cameos from the "Avatar" series…but that's unlikely.

As usual, your reviews will tell me if this has potential, so do read and review, would you kindly?

And keep it classy!

…

[Uchiha Lands, Sengoku Jidai]

The battle today had turned out unexpectedly…an eventuality that Uchiha Madara refused to believe. He'd had faith that Tajima could've taken on Senju Butsuma's regiment, and survived…but to outright lose a battle didn't seem like something that was even possible for his father. Still, a debriefing was in order, and while the account of a potentially traumatized survivor was not reliable, it was better than nothing.

The shinobi that sat at the table with a bowl of rice in hand wore the aftermath of the battle on his body; a splint and bandage around his chest from broken ribs, several cuts from bare misses, as well as blood splatter from the victims he'd taken in the conflict. From what he'd heard, Uchiha Ichiro was a hardened war veteran at the age of twenty-five; traumatized or not, the man had at least a modicum of credibility. That, and he was part of Tajima's honor guard, and so he was very likely to have seen what had happened.

Nearby, his brother Izuna kept an eye on the survivor as he ate his fill, dressed in a black kimono. While Madara was more than capable of handling the situation should it get out of hand, his younger brother was present as a formality. This being their father, nobody wanted to know what happened to their father more than he did, and so it was also to his benefit that he be present for the debriefing.

"Tell us what happened," Madara said, watching Ichiro put down the empty bowl.

"I honestly wouldn't know where to begin, Madara-sama," warned the survivor, clasping his hands together nervously.

"Take a breath to calm down, then tell us the order in which it happened," Izuna suggested.

Ichiro took the suggestion, taking in a deep breath before looking back at Madara. "In the first few hours, we managed to ambush that bastard Butsuma and his regiment; the battle had started off pretty well when we caught them by surprise, and then we lost the initiative when the Senju brought in reinforcements a little later on. We managed to hold out long enough to down the reinforcements, but we still got caught in a deadlock; if we couldn't gain any ground in the battle, then we made damn sure the Senju bastards didn't gain any either."

"At what point did the battle turn for the worse?" asked Madara.

"I don't know for sure when it happened, the fight had gone to the point where any sign of retreat would've led to total annihilation," answered Ichiro, "All I know is that things changed as soon as a swordsman had arrived, and a damn good one at that. Anyway, once he walked into the battlefield, he started mowing down combatants from both sides, before finding Tajima-sama and that bastard Butsuma in the middle of a melee. He found them both, and got into a fight with them…I tried to get him away from them, but he smashed in my armor and broke a few ribs before going back into the fight. Anyone who tried to interrupt and rescue the leaders was cut down in one stroke; any attempt to take him out with kunai and shuriken ended up with their own projectiles in their vitals."

"What can you tell us about the swordsman?" Izuna queried.

"I'm only guessing here, but I think he was around your age, Madara-sama, same build too," began Ichiro, "Only he's got long, dark hair done up in a small ponytail. His clothes were kinda ratty, and he went into the battle without armor…not that that bastard needed it when he cut us down. He had two swords; one was sheathed across his back, while the other one shouldn't even be called a sword; it was made of solid metal, and its edges were dull…it was more like a sword-shaped club."

Izuna walked closer, disbelief heavy in his tone. "So you're telling me that some strange swordsman walked into the battle, fought our father and Senju Butsuma with a dull tsurugi, and won?"

The tsurugi was a straight, double-edged sword that was used in days long past. It was a one-handed weapon that had excellent stabbing power, but was no slouch when it came to cutting. Even though it had long been superseded by the chokuto as the sword of choice of many warriors, the tsurugi still carried a prestigious air about it, especially as it was the weapon of Susanoo-no-Mikoto. Due to the resources involved in its creation, and the amount of training to be invested in its use, it had long been used as a status symbol for gentlemen and nobility alike. To hear of someone wielding one and defeat with their father spoke volumes of their skill; doubly so considering they were armed with a crude excuse of a weapon.

"How did the fight unfold?" asked Madara.

"Well, we couldn't fight the swordsman, so we were forced to watch as Tajima-sama and Butsuma were locked in a three-way duel. It forced, but was like watching a dance between them; Tajima-sama dove in and out of the fight, trying to pick out openings in the swordsman's defense with his kodachi and Sharingan, while Butsuma kept at a distance with his jutsu. In the end, it was like two mortal warriors going up against Susanoo himself."

"You sound like you admire him," Izuna accused.

"Look, I'm not happy he killed Tajima-sama," Ichiro defended, "It's just that I admired his skills because he was that good—so much that it didn't even matter how crappy his sword was…I guess that's what you call talent. Anyway, that fight happened so fast, I couldn't believe it myself; Tajima-sama and Butsuma were old as hell, but they were some of the strongest fighters I know of…so imagine my surprise when this nobody swordsman killed them both within a minute. With our leaders slain, some of us tried to avenge them; he mowed those idiots down like they were stalks of barley ripe for the harvest, smashing in armor and shattering swords. After he cut down almost half of the remaining troops, we cut our losses and retreated."

"At what point did you reclaim our father's body?" Izuna queried.

"It wasn't easy, but some of us managed to collect his corpse as we ran away, I can only assume the same went for the Senju," answered Ichiro, "Strange thing was, even though he won, the swordsman seemed more depressed than happy that he killed Tajima-sama and Butsuma…which was probably why he stopped when we started running away."

"That is strange," Madara noted, "A warrior who doesn't take pride in his victory?"

"The only question now is, what are you going to do, brother?" asked the younger Uchiha, "With father dead, that leaves you as leader of the clan."

"If I may make a suggestion Madara-sama," interjected the honor guard, "Don't bother going after that guy. He's around your age, and yet he was able to kill a good number of shinobi on both sides. I don't think it's worth it to send more clansmen after one swordsman, when he's good enough to kill both your father and Butsuma in one setting."

"All the more reason to go after him," added Izuna, turning to face his brother, "Brother, we can't let this go unpunished. That swordsman had the gall to intrude in a battle that did not concern him, and kill our father; who's to say he won't interfere in another important confrontation with the Senju? I say we hunt this man down and kill him ourselves."

Madara thought carefully about the situation. With Tajima dead, it was left to him as the heir apparent to decide the clan's fate, as well as the plans for revenge on this strange swordsman that slew their father. Both sides had come up with a very valid argument; on the one hand, he could lead a hunting party to track this swordsman down and possibly kill him, and the boost in morale would be substantial if they succeeded. On the other hand, as much as he wanted to test his skills against such a worthy adversary, the swordsman was strong enough to kill both his father and Butsuma in the same fight…granted, both heads were old men, but neither Tajima nor Butsuma were weak in any way, which begged the question to whether or not it was worth it to commit much-needed resources to hunt down one man.

In the end, Madara sighed, his mind made up. "Let's not pursue him." Izuna looked back at his brother with shock in his eyes. "Right now, the Senju are in the same boat we are, and if they were to see us hunting that swordsman down, they may attack us while we are gone and then finish the job. In this case, Ichiro is right; it's not worth it to commit time and manpower to hunt down one man when we have a much bigger threat to consider. For now at least, we will let this matter slide until my power has been consolidated; until then, we will try to track down that swordsman and gain more intelligence on him, if only so that we can steer clear of him in future battles."

"And if he reappears?" Izuna asked.

"Then we will fight him ourselves if we have to," answered the elder Uchiha brother, "Right now, we know nothing of him. But if we do fight him, it will be on our terms."

…

[Unknown Location]

Calm was the atmosphere as the rush of the nearby river added to the chorus of nearby birds chirping as a middle-aged man sat in seiza near the bank in meditation, his only companion a large, brown eagle that was perched on a nearby tree. His features were easy on the eyes, with an unkempt goatee from a lonely life on the road, his long ebon hair organized into a ponytail that was secured in place with a wooden hairpin. The once-pristine robes of a scholar he wore were dirty and gray, riddled with tears from the passage of time, revealing the body of an experienced fighter who had seen more than his fair share of battle, his musculature like a spring that was coiled and ready to strike. Sheathed across his back was a double-edged straight sword; one he kept as a memento for his younger years.

Set next to him was a larger, solid metal sword with a spiked pommel in the shape of a closed lotus bud. By contrast, its integral guard was a small, round disc that splayed out like a blossoming lotus while allowing enough space on its banded grip to comfortably accommodate one- or two-handed swordplay. Its edges were dull, and the long, slender, double-edged blade tapered into an aggressive point; the subtle dents and rolls along its length told the tale of a weapon that had taken many lives over the course of hundreds of battles.

Sensing an opportunity to rest from his meditations, the swordsman opened his eyes, reflecting on his life. He'd been on this road for years, and he'd still been unable to find an opponent worthy enough of his skills…someone who could fight with him on an equal footing. Even when he was a lad that started on the scholar's path, he was always alone, hoping someone could match him in a battle of wits; when nobody could match him, he would eventually discover the art of the sword, translating every swing of his blade to poetry in motion as he won. He would travel the lonely road of the wandering swordsman for many years, hoping to find a worthy opponent, only to find disappointment at every corner as he'd defeated many warriors in single moves…such was his prowess that he'd been called "kenki" with fear and awe in equal measure.

His last two adversaries were a disappointment; they'd barely lasted ten moves with him, but they were still superb combatants for their advanced age, even while hampered with the weight of his sword. However, it wasn't for nothing that he killed them both, as their battle had come to a point where neither side seemed inclined to retreat; their leaders were so dead-set on winning at all costs that their pride would have ended in the mutual destruction of their soldiers. Frustrated by the development, the swordsman decided to intervene, looking for the strongest fighters on both sides, and assassinating them both in a duel. Like the good soldiers they were, some of them decided to try their hand at avenging their apparent leaders; for their own good, he cut down enough of them to force a retreat, and allowed them enough time to collect their dead.

"Have I become too powerful?" he asked himself.

Curiously, the swordsman pulled the hairpin out of his ponytail, lightly pulsing some of his chakra into it before sighting a nearby tree across the bank. With a trained hand and a steady aim, he threw the chakra-reinforced hairpin with a flick of his wrist; experienced eyes watched as the hairpin sailed in the air, skewering five falling leaves along the way, before the point dug deep, pinning the leaves onto the tree within seconds.

Heaving a defeated sigh, the swordsman reached for his larger sword as he sat up. "Then perhaps it is time I perfect my art, and to find a worthy pupil…"

…

A/N: And now we're done!

Wuxia fans may recognize the swordsman, but the story will take a different turn…and possibly take Naruto to a different place.

As the Wuxia genre will be prevalent here, expect to see more familiar concepts, like the appearance of the Beggars' Sect, or someone to be the next Xiaolongnü.

Per usual with my pilots, give me a review to see if there's potential for this story…or if you'd like to try your variation.