After the intense clash, a hush fell over the battlefield.
Smoke drifted through the air, carrying the stench of scorched earth, ozone, and fresh blood. The silence was not peace, but the aftermath.
Kaito stood at the heart of the carnage, surveying the ruin with eyes like cold glass. His gaze flicked between Itachi and Obito, who both stood at a distance, tensed, alert, unsure what to expect next.
His attire remained pristine, untouched by the chaos around him, as if the violence could not reach him. Yet from his left hand, thick crimson blood dripped steadily, each drop splattering softly against the ground like a metronome counting down to the next moment of death.
At his feet lay Uchiha Fugaku.
Lifeless.
His body was twisted unnaturally, eyes gouged from their sockets. Deep shadows hollowed his face, his Sharingan now nothing more than empty voids—his legacy, stolen.
Not far off, Danzo Shimura lay sprawled in a congealing pool of blood, his breaths faint, shallow, a rasping struggle between life and death.
Ahead of Kaito, kneeling amid cracked stone and shattered pride, was Sarutobi Hiruzen.
His teeth clenched tightly in agony. His eyes, sunken and burning, glared up at Kaito with a fury too deep for words. His sleeves hung limp, empty sockets where arms had once moved with veteran precision.
And beside him…
The decapitated corpse of Enma, the great ape demon.
A loyal summon—slain.
Defeat clung to the Third Hokage like a shroud.
Kaito had emerged victorious.
Two Minutes Earlier...
Electricity danced along the edge of Kaito's kunai. Lightning hissed and arced in tight patterns over the blade, forming a condensed storm in his grip. With a sharp pivot of his foot, Kaito blurred behind Sarutobi Hiruzen and lashed out.
The electrified blade streaked through the air like a bolt of divine judgment, aimed straight at the ageing Hokage's neck.
But Hiruzen, hardened by decades of war, moved with reflexive precision, lunging forward into his attack. But he'd overcommitted. The momentum shifted awkwardly. The pressure Kaito had applied earlier—the psychological warfare, the seamless teleportations—had finally cracked the old man's foundation.
He stumbled.
A rare mistake. But in battle, even one was fatal.
The Third Hokage's footing faltered, just as Enma roared, moving to intercept.
Too slow.
"Damn!"
A flicker of doubt crossed Hiruzen's heart. He should've known better. Should've seen this coming.
But he refused to die like this.
He made a reckless decision—one borne from desperation. He would catch Kaito's blade with his bare hand.
Swish!
The air split.
Schrrkk!
Agony exploded through Hiruzen's nerves. His scream tore through the battlefield—raw, undignified.
His left arm was severed at the elbow.
The blade ripped across his chest, shredding muscle and sinew. Blood fountained from the wound as he collapsed to one knee, coughing violently, his breath ragged.
"The Third Hokage," Kaito remarked coldly, leaping backwards as Enma's massive paw slammed down in rage, missing by inches. "Always decisive."
Enma positioned itself in front of Hiruzen, snarling protectively, a wall of muscle and fury.
Kaito didn't hesitate.
"Thunder Slash!"
He roared, whipping his arm forward. A blade of lightning arced across the field, carving a jagged path of destruction toward his target.
From a distance, Danzo watched in stunned silence, eyes wide, hand instinctively drifting toward the cluster of Sharingan embedded in his arm. Then, grimacing, he bolted toward Hiruzen's side.
Meanwhile, Itachi, Fugaku, and Obito—each with blood on their hands and pain in their eyes—exchanged a quick, silent glance.
Then they moved.
All of them.
Kaito narrowed his eyes. Troublesome.
His Sharingan pulsed with strain. The world around him began to slow, angles of attack unfurling in his mind's eye. His chakra reserves had already taken a hit—another 10% drained with that last technique. He could feel the toll—heavy limbs, tight breath, a faint ringing in his ears.
But no hesitation showed on his face.
Space shimmered around him as he twisted reality itself, activating Mirror Space to create distance and regroup.
He had seconds—perhaps half a minute—to plan his next strike.
His eyes flicked to Enma, still standing guard in front of the collapsed Hokage.
Kaito's expression twisted into a sneer.
"No need to waste my full power on a beast that bleeds like the rest."
Enma roared and lunged, its enormous hand slicing down with bone-breaking force.
But Kaito's Sharingan rendered every motion in slow motion. Every limb, every muscle twitch—it was all telegraphed.
He sidestepped effortlessly, spinning low and driving his blade in a flurry of graceful, surgical cuts.
Deep gashes bloomed across Enma's hide. Blood poured from its limbs, matting fur and pooling beneath its feet.
Yet the beast did not retreat.
It did not waver.
It stood—bleeding, heaving—between its master and death.
"A loyal beast..." Kaito murmured, eyes glinting. "But you'll be the first to fall."
He surged forward, his blade gleaming.
Desperate, Hiruzen slammed his palm to the ground. "Summoning Release!"
He coughed up blood with the word, but the summoning seal remained inert.
Nothing happened.
"Wh–what's going on?!"
Panic crept into his voice, cracking the command.
Kaito chuckled. "Did yoy think... You could simply walk out of my Mirror Space?"
With one clean, merciless stroke—
Enma's head fell.
Blood sprayed upward like a geyser. The headless body slumped beside Hiruzen with a heavy thud.
"ENMA!" Hiruzen's scream broke from his throat, hoarse and trembling. Despair hollowed his face.
He was alone now. Truly alone.
Kaito didn't let up.
"Thunder Clash!"
A roaring wave of lightning surged from his blade. The chakra tore across the field like a living serpent.
Danzo, still mid-run, saw it coming.
His face twisted with fear and fury.
Without hesitation, he plunged a kunai into his chest, piercing the skin above his heart. Blood gushed from the self-inflicted wound.
A heartbeat passed.
His body vanished.
Then reappeared in front of Hiruzen.
Blocking the fatal blow.
Kaito halted mid-swing. His eyes narrowed, blade hovering inches from Danzo's neck.
The elder's Sharingan-covered arm gleamed faintly. His mouth opened, and blood spilt out.
He collapsed to one knee, gasping.
Kaito stared at him, surprised... and, for the briefest moment, impressed.
"I didn't expect such resolve from you, Danzo..." he said quietly. "Using Izanagi to protect Hiruzen—even in death."
A heavy silence settled over the field.
The wind whistled through broken stones and scorched trees. Somewhere, a crow cawed mournfully before fleeing the scene.
The battle was over.
Fugaku lay dead.
Danzo, dying.
Hiruzen—broken.
Kaito stood tall in the centre of it all. The air around him shimmered with heat and chakra residue. His chest rose and fell steadily, though the weariness in his muscles whispered of limits approaching.
But his eyes...
His eyes burned with singular purpose.
As he looked down at Fugaku's empty sockets—blood drying in jagged trails down the man's face—Kaito felt nothing like triumph.
Only cold.
Only purpose.
Only hunger.
The path to greater power was lined with corpses. And he would walk it—without looking back.
The eyes of the future were now his to claim.
And the shadows of the past? He had cut them down one by one.
But the echoes of this battle...They would reverberate across the shinobi world.
Forever.