Even with Indra and Asura appearing before him, Itachi Uchiha didn't hesitate. His eyes remained locked on Ido, the monstrous manifestation of Kurama Yakumo's subconscious. Without a moment's pause, he lunged forward—katana raised—to strike down the so-called Death God.
"In war, it's better to cut off one finger than bruise ten."
– from On Strategic Problems of Revolutionary War, Chapter 5, Section 9
That logic was burned into Itachi's mind: when solving problems, fewer, decisive strikes are better than a thousand shallow blows.
Just like in a brawl—you can't beat everyone, but if you choose one opponent and utterly destroy them, you've made your mark.
In other words: the reckless fear the ruthless, and the ruthless fear the one who has nothing to lose.
"Fool!" Ido growled through a grin, enraged that Itachi would charge in so brazenly, as if to drag him to hell together.
He clearly didn't expect Itachi to risk it all.
"You think I'm some illusion you can slash through?"
Ido swiftly drew a brush and parchment, sketching Itachi's figure—then frantically added fire, ice, and lightning atop the drawing.
Through his "reality-altering genjutsu," he tried to conjure destructive forces upon Itachi: scorching flames, freezing cold, and paralyzing thunder.
But Itachi didn't flinch.
As fire engulfed his robe, frost crawled up his limbs, and lightning sparked at his feet, he didn't so much as blink.
"You fool," he said coldly. "Don't you know that using genjutsu against an Uchiha is suicide?"
He charged straight through the onslaught and raised his sword.
"Uchiha Style: Blade of the Scorching Flame!"
A wave of Wind Release chakra coated his blade, igniting it with the searing black flames of Amaterasu.
The strike landed before Ido could react—his kunai snapped in two as Itachi's sword cleaved straight through it, slashing directly into Ido's body. The black flames of Amaterasu immediately erupted across him.
"AARGHHHHH!"
His screams echoed in agony as his form was engulfed in divine fire.
"H-How?! How did you ignore the flames, the frost, the lightning?! How did none of it touch you?!"
He stared at Itachi—who remained entirely unharmed by the elements crackling around him—with pure disbelief.
"Is he… immune to pain?"
"No burns, no ice, no paralysis… nothing."
"Is he a damn ghost?!"
But Itachi didn't answer. He raised his blade once more and, without ceremony, brought it down again, cleaving Ido in two.
No words. No hesitation. No second chances.
The so-called Death God was torn apart before he could even mount a counterattack. His body shattered into black particles, dissolving into the air—absorbed by Itachi's body as if returning to the void.
He died still questioning—how?
Behind him, Izumi Uchiha—gasping for air—collapsed to the ground, blood trickling from her eyes.
It was her who had ensured Ido's downfall.
Just before Itachi charged, Izumi had used the power of Ōkuninushi-no-Mikoto, the Mangekyō ability she'd awakened. She had severed all six threads of Itachi's "Six Desires"—rendering him completely disconnected from his five senses and his will:
He could not see
He could not hear
He could not smell
He could not taste
He could not feel
He could not think
In other words, she'd reduced Itachi to a sensory void, immune to Ido's manipulation of perception.
Then, using their shared red thread, she took control of Itachi's body—turning him into the perfect assassin.
With no way to affect him, Ido had stood no chance.
It was a clean, calculated kill.
Their first perfect joint takedown.
Once she reconnected Itachi's threads, restoring his senses, two new figures finally approached.
"What luck…" Itachi muttered, eyes narrowing as the two approached. "I didn't expect them to show up on their own."
It was Indra and Asura—reincarnations of the Sage of Six Paths' sons, born again in the bodies of Naruto Uzumaki and Sasuke Uchiha.
Itachi had originally planned to lure out their chakra gradually, using Tsukuyomi to immerse Naruto and Sasuke in an illusory world—slowly drawing out the power of their inherited chakra like frogs in boiling water.
But his plan had been discovered early.
"Are you… a descendant of my brother?" Asura asked, eyes resting on the crimson Mangekyō Sharingan in Itachi's eyes.
He recognized the shape. While it differed from his brother's Eternal Mangekyō, the energy was unmistakable—same source, different form.
"Shut your mouth, Asura!" Indra barked, stepping forward. "This boy is trying to steal our chakra. He wants to erase us."
"Really?" Asura blinked in surprise.
Even in spirit form, they retained vast amounts of chakra. It seemed absurd that a single mortal could be plotting their destruction.
"Indra-sama, Asura-sama, please," Itachi interjected smoothly. "You've misunderstood."
"I have no intention of harming either of you. None at all."
"I just… want to help resolve your thousand-year grudge."
Izumi: "…"
There it is.
The fabled Talk no Jutsu.
"This is between us brothers!" Indra snapped. "If you get involved, don't blame me for what happens."
"Brother… maybe he has a point," Asura said hesitantly. "It's been over a thousand years. Aren't you tired of fighting?"
"If you say one more word," Indra growled, his eyes glowing with menace, "I'll kill you too."
Asura: "…"
"Indra-sama, Asura-sama," Itachi continued calmly. "I truly mean no harm. I only want to end the cycle of conflict between you."
"Hmph. Big words," Indra scoffed. "Do you really think you can resolve what we couldn't in a thousand years?"
"If you weren't my descendant, I would've killed you already."
Asura, however, looked hopeful.
"You… really think you can help?" he asked quietly. "You think you can heal this rift?"
He didn't believe Itachi sought their destruction. Deep down, he wanted to believe reconciliation was possible.
Itachi turned serious.
"Let me ask you something, Indra-sama. A thousand years ago… did you ever encounter a man—black as ink, like a shadow on water…?"