Uchiha Izumi staggered to her feet, her steps unsteady as she walked straight toward the Daimyō's wife.
"I'll kill you. I'll kill you! I'm going to make you die and bury you alongside Naori-senpai!"
The bloodthirsty look in her eyes and her frenzied appearance filled the Daimyō's wife with unspeakable terror.
With every step Izumi took, the woman's panic deepened.
It was the first time she had ever seen the kind and gentle Izumi lose control like this.
So the saying was true—corner a rabbit, and even it will bite!
"S-Stop her! Hurry!"
"Now!" the Daimyō's wife screamed in terror, scrambling backward on all fours. Gone was her usual elegance—she looked nothing like the poised noble she pretended to be. Instead, she resembled a panicked clown, a woman stripped bare of dignity.
Izumi's eyes were bloodshot, her fury uncontainable, her sanity slipping away. The fear she struck into the woman's heart was primal.
"Kill her!" One after another, samurai stormed out from behind the curtains, drawing their swords and rushing toward Izumi.
But their proud swordsmanship—so refined, so deadly—meant nothing in the face of Izumi's Sharingan. Their every move, their every flaw, was exposed completely under her gaze.
She could read their attacks like they were moving in slow motion.
Izumi effortlessly snatched a blade from one of the samurai and began cutting her way through them—slash after slash, strike after strike. From the inner halls to the outer gates, she pursued the Daimyō's wife relentlessly. She charged back and forth seven times, cutting down everyone in her path for more than ten minutes straight. Blood soaked the ground. Screams echoed in the air.
"You're running? Let's see which is stronger—your palace's numbers, or my blade," Izumi snarled, stalking after the Daimyō's wife like a cat playing with a cornered mouse. Her expression was full of sadistic amusement as she watched the woman sob and tremble in fear.
The steady drip of blood from her katana only added to the terrifying atmosphere.
To the Daimyō's wife, Izumi had become a demon.
An executioner.
A lunatic.
Her guards were all dead—slaughtered without mercy.
Not one of them had been a match for Izumi, not even for a single exchange.
And what was most terrifying?
Despite the massacre, Izumi's clothing remained spotless—without a single drop of blood.
She had passed through a sea of enemies... untouched.
It was monstrous.
Just as Izumi was about to deliver the final blow, a hand gently touched her shoulder.
"Izumi... I'm sorry I'm late."
Her body trembled.
That chakra. That warmth. That voice.
Izumi turned, and saw the figure she had longed for day and night.
"Itachi…?"
"Naori-senpai, she…"
"Uwaaaaah!" Without another word, Izumi threw herself into his arms and broke down sobbing.
Itachi gently patted her back, his voice full of pain and comfort. "Naori-senpai is fine. What you saw earlier... wasn't real. It was an illusion. Now sleep, Izumi. Leave the rest to me. When you wake up, all of this will be over."
"Don't worry. I'll make sure the Daimyō's wife regrets everything she did today."
"I'll make her pay in blood."
"And anyone who hurt you… I won't let a single one of them go."
"She's alive… Thank goodness…" Izumi muttered softly, her grip relaxing as she leaned into his shoulder and closed her eyes.
Awakening the Mangekyō, the emotional whiplash, the slaughter—it had taken a tremendous toll on her.
But now that Itachi was here, her mind and heart could finally rest. She let her guard down completely and drifted into sleep.
She trusted him. That was all that mattered.
Itachi stored her safely within his personal space. Then, one of his physical clones sliced open his palm—blood spilled out and formed another clone.
Two Itachis stood side by side:
(一`一)
"Rock, paper, scissors."
One threw scissors. The other, paper.
Moments later, one transformed into Danzo. The other, into Uchiha Izumi.
"Danzo" silently hoisted "Izumi" over his shoulder and headed in the direction where the Daimyō's wife had fled.
Fake Izumi: "…"
Carrying herself on his back… For some reason, she felt a deep wave of secondhand embarrassment. This was so humiliating.
Meanwhile, the Daimyō's wife stumbled out through the back entrance in a full-blown panic, only to run straight into the Daimyō, who had arrived with Kazuma and five members of the Twelve Guardian Ninja.
"Save me! Please—save me!" she cried as soon as she saw them, relief washing over her face. She thought she was finally safe.
"What happened?" the Daimyō asked, recoiling and holding his fan to his nose in disgust. "You reek of blood."
"Izumi—Uchiha Izumi—she's lost her mind! She's no genin—she killed all my guards!" the Daimyō's wife said, still trembling with fear.
"Absurd! Konoha's ninja registry clearly lists Uchiha Izumi as a genin. You think I'd be fooled by a forgery?" the Daimyō snapped. "And didn't I assign Chiriku and the Lightning Release Four Ninja to protect you?"
Protect me? she sneered inwardly. You knowingly assigned five spies to guard me. You wanted me dead so one of your little foxes could take my place, didn't you?
But she didn't dare say it aloud. Instead, she bowed her head, trembling.
"I told you to hand Asuma over to Izumi. That's all. You weren't sent into a warzone. How did you manage to turn a simple task into this colossal mess?" the Daimyō barked.
Hand him over? You gave him to me with his limbs broken and expected me to look like the villain! You think I don't see what you're doing? But again, she swallowed her words and simply bowed.
"Still kneeling? Get up and change your clothes! You've made the Daimyō's residence look like a joke!" he shouted.
"I… I apologize." She stood up slowly, eyes filled with hatred. She blamed Izumi for all of it. If not for her, she wouldn't have been humiliated in front of the Daimyō.
As she left, the Daimyō frowned and walked toward the hall. Could it be that Chiriku and the others really turned traitor?
How else to explain the overwhelming stench of blood?
He didn't believe Izumi could have done this alone.
His guards were all veterans—killers with hundreds, even thousands, of lives on their hands.
As the Daimyō stepped into the chamber, he came face-to-face with Danzo—carrying Izumi over his shoulder.
"Danzo?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.
"Daimyō," Danzo replied with a slight nod. "Your residence must really be slipping, letting a single genin slaughter all your samurai."
"Am I supposed to commend the genin… or laugh at your pitiful guards?" he said, gesturing at the blood-soaked room full of corpses.
The Daimyō clenched his fists, seething. Danzo's insult had landed square on his pride.
Outside, Chiriku and the Lightning Release Four Ninja stared at Naori's charred body in silence. They had just killed a Leaf ninja—an Uchiha, no less.
If the Uchiha clan found out, they'd never let this go.
"What now?"
"What can we do?"
"We just followed orders. What, are the Uchiha going to kill all of us?"
"Exactly. We did what we were told. Who knew she'd actually throw herself into the barrier?"
"She wanted to die—we couldn't have stopped her. Right?"
"Right."
Saying it out loud made them feel better.
They weren't in the wrong. It was Naori's fault for being reckless. She could've waited. She didn't need to die.
She brought it on herself.
"Wait… What's going on? Why is there so much blood coming from inside?" Chiriku frowned, noticing crimson pooling beneath the doorway.
His heart skipped a beat. Don't tell me Izumi died too?
After all, she claimed to be Itachi's childhood sweetheart.
If Uchiha Itachi, newly appointed clan head, heard that his girlfriend had been killed in the Daimyō's residence…
It'd be all-out war between the Uchiha and the court.
"Move! We're going in!" Chiriku's face changed. He kicked the door open and rushed in.
The moment it opened, the smell of blood slammed into them.
Inside, corpses were strewn everywhere—limbs torn, heads severed. The floor was slick with blood.
At the center of the carnage stood a glass container.
Inside was a man, covered in ants and rats, his mind clearly broken, drooling and twitching like a fool.
"Asuma!" Chiriku rushed forward and smashed the glass with a punch, pulling the man out. With a wave of his hand, he killed every vermin on Asuma's body.
"Urrghhh…" Asuma drooled and whimpered incoherently, his eyes empty—tortured beyond sanity.
"Who… Who the hell did this?!" Chiriku roared.
A cold voice came from behind.
"Chiriku, do you know this spy?" the Daimyō asked, utterly emotionless.
Chiriku turned—and saw Kazuma, along with the rest of the Twelve Guardian Ninja, standing with layers of samurai surrounding them. Among them, Fūdō, Fuen, and Fuka flanked the Daimyō closely, guarding him.
Nine elite jōnin. A unit of samurai.
They had come prepared.
"N-No… I don't," Chiriku said, gritting his teeth. "I just think this was too cruel."
Because if he admitted it, they'd all be dead.
"Cruel?" Kazuma tilted his head with a mocking smile. "You know how strict the selection for the Twelve Guardian Ninja is. We can't afford even the slightest threat."
"Our policy has always been the same—better to kill an innocent than to miss a threat."
"This man? He failed the selection from the beginning."
"Failed?" Chiriku asked.
"That's right. His awareness was awful," Kazuma said. "We told everyone to suppress their chakra—said it was part of the test. Everyone else obeyed… but they were all our plants. Only he didn't realize. He was the only outsider."
Chiriku: "…"
Even I would've fallen for that… What kind of twisted games are you playing?
"For the second test, we locked him in a sealed room and told him to identify herbs and make the correct antidote. And guess what?"
"He succeeded?"
"Yep. Surprisingly, he managed to mix the antidote."
"Then how did he fail?"
"Because those herbs, when combined, created a new poison. And we were feeding the room with toxic gas through the vents the entire time. He got poisoned so badly he lost his mind. And still, until he blacked out, he never realized…"
"The deadliest poison was mistrust," Kazuma said with a sneer.
Chiriku: "…"
"Then came the third round—a sparring match. Delirious as he was, he still showed up. And... he was cut down. Limbs severed."
Kazuma spread his hands. "See? He never stood a chance."
"So you never intended for him to live?" Chiriku asked, his voice low.
"Of course not. We knew from the start—he was Hiruzen Sarutobi's son. Sarutobi Asuma," Kazuma said.
"Who leaked that?" Chiriku demanded, fists clenched.
"Guess," Kazuma replied.
"I don't need to. I already know." Chiriku looked toward the man next to the Daimyō, the one with the bandaged eye. "It was you, Shimura Danzo, wasn't it?"
Kazuma blinked in surprise—then gave Danzo a pitying glance.
"…Yep. It was him," Kazuma said cheerfully, shifting the blame without hesitation.
Let those traitors and Danzo kill each other. Less trouble for him.
Chiriku and the Lightning Release Four were loyal to the Fire Daimyō. They didn't want to see a civil war between the Land of Fire and Konoha.
But Kazuma was different. He was a radical.
He wanted the Hokage dead. He wanted Konoha crushed. He wanted the Land of Fire to have only one authority: the Daimyō.
He dreamed of unifying the Land of Fire—military and politics under one banner—and dominating the shinobi world.
They were on opposite paths.
Danzo had come here to help the Daimyō destroy Konoha.
They had just received intel—Danzo had completely fallen out with Hiruzen. Now he was a wanted man, a traitor on the run.
Partnering with him?
That was like making a deal with a rabid beast.
"Danzo!" Chiriku snarled. "You won't poison the Daimyō's mind!"
"And who are you to speak in his presence, little Guardian Ninja?" Danzo shot back, tone mocking. "Or do you think you're above the Daimyō now?"
"You—! Don't twist my words!"
"Enough." The Daimyō raised his fan, silencing them all. "We need to discuss Hiruzen Sarutobi's betrayal… and why he sent Asuma undercover into the Twelve Guardian Ninja. What was his goal?"
"Hmph. Isn't it obvious?" Danzo sneered. "He wanted to dismantle the Guardian Ninja from within—strip the Daimyō of power so Konoha could reign unchecked. It's plain as day."