The air was heavy, laden with rising tension as Third Hokage Hiruzen Sarutobi glanced toward Danzo. Pressure was building from all directions—clan heads demanding justice, a rogue shinobi wielding Susanoo in defense of his fallen kin, and a truth too dangerous to publicly expose.
Danzo turned toward Hiruzen with a tone that masked desperation behind authority.
"You can't let them interrogate me. If you do... the village will fracture."
Hiruzen gave a reluctant sigh, knowing full well the stakes. His voice was low but resolute.
"Don't worry. I will not let anything happen to you."
And therein lay the core of Hiruzen's dilemma. Danzo wasn't entirely wrong. If the Uchiha managed to bring him down, their next target might be Hiruzen himself. After all, he'd long turned a blind eye to the discrimination against them. If Danzo fell, Hiruzen's inaction might follow.
Even if there were still noble clans loyal to Hiruzen, few had the brute strength or political edge to stop the Uchiha in full revolt. And Ryosuke—he was a different breed entirely. His Mangekyō Sharingan had exposed truths too long hidden, and his Susanoo had shattered any doubts about his might.
A ripple in the tense stillness drew all eyes to the clearing's edge.
Uchiha Fugaku, flanked by Ryosuke and a small contingent of battle-ready Uchiha shinobi, stepped forward. Their black cloaks flared slightly in the wind, red clouds of anger swirling in their gazes. The clan heads behind Hiruzen stiffened.
Fugaku's voice was ice.
"Third Hokage, we request that you surrender Danzo Shimura to us. We have reason to believe he has stolen our clan's bloodline limit—our Sharingan."
A collective gasp passed through the assembled leaders of the other clans.
Theft of a kekkei genkai—especially one as revered and dangerous as the Sharingan—was one of the gravest crimes in the shinobi world. Even village elders had no jurisdiction to violate a clan's sacred lineage.
No one doubted that Danzo was capable of darkness. His role as the leader of Root had made him the village's necessary evil. But this... this crossed into unforgivable territory.
And then there was the Susanoo.
Many of the clan heads had witnessed Ryosuke's towering chakra avatar with their own eyes. The ethereal ribcage and armored warrior—the hallmark of Mangekyō Sharingan mastery—was proof of just how powerful and sacred that bloodline truly was.
Still, Danzo did what Danzo always did: deny.
"This is slander!" Danzo barked. "I would never steal your clan's bloodline! You're grasping at shadows."
Before Hiruzen could step in, Ryosuke took one sharp step forward, eyes gleaming like twin red stars.
"Then prove it. Show us your right arm."
Hiruzen raised his hand as if to block the confrontation.
"Fugaku... Surely this is all a misunderstanding. I don't believe Danzo would resort to stealing the Uchiha's kekkei genkai."
He offered the kind of solution only a politician would.
"If Danzo has disrespected your clan before, I will discipline him. I will remove his title as Village Council Elder immediately. Let that be a public gesture of good faith."
That was a retreat—an admission of defeat without admitting guilt. But Fugaku wasn't placated.
Nor was Ryosuke.
Their clan had seen too much. Too many missing eyes. Too many "accidents." And now this man wielded the most forbidden of Uchiha powers—Izanagi, the ability to rewrite death, to turn fatal wounds into illusions, as if reality itself bent before his will.
Ryosuke's voice was cold and sharp.
"Don't insult us with token punishments. This is no longer about slander or disrespect. It's about truth. We want to see his right arm. We want to verify whether or not he possesses Sharingan."
Fugaku nodded.
"We also want him to remove the bandage from his right eye."
Every clan in the Leaf knew that the Uchiha had never sold, traded, or gifted their dōjutsu. There had been no authorized transplantation. So how could Danzo possess even one Sharingan—let alone multiple?
There was only one conclusion: he had taken them by force.
Danzo's face twisted in fury and desperation.
"There's nothing to show! I don't owe you anything!"
But Fugaku pressed on, voice cutting like a kunai.
"Then prove your innocence. Show us your arm. Show us your eye."
Danzo's silence spoke volumes. His fear was not of exposure—it was of confirmation.
The technique he'd used earlier, before the Hokage and the clan leaders, had unmistakably been Izanagi, an Uchiha kinjutsu. The Sharingan wasn't just a tool—it was a legacy, and to steal it was to spit on the entire clan's history.
Fugaku's eyes narrowed.
"Izanagi is a technique known only to our bloodline. A forbidden one, at that. It allows the user to overwrite reality—to turn death into illusion. But its cost is steep: the eye goes blind."
"Even within our clan, it is feared. Do you really expect us to believe someone outside the Uchiha developed it?"
Danzo's breath caught. Even Hiruzen now looked as though he regretted showing him any support.
Ryosuke stepped forward again. His chakra flared—not enough to manifest the Susanoo again, but enough to send shivers through every shinobi present.
"Are you going to show us the truth, or am I going to take your arm off and verify it myself?"
Danzo recoiled, panic surfacing in his eyes.
"You want war? This is how wars begin!"
Fugaku didn't blink.
"No. War began when you tore eyes from our dead."
The tension snapped like a tripwire.
"That arm contains secrets vital to Konoha!" Danzo roared. "You have no right to demand to see it!"
Hiruzen hesitated again. But every clan leader around him now saw Danzo's refusal for what it was: confirmation.
No one believed that a mere arm held state secrets. What kind of "classified intel" required implanting a dozen Sharingan into one's flesh?
Hiashi Hyuga quietly stepped forward, sharing a glance with the Nara, Akimichi, and Yamanaka heads behind him.
"We've seen enough," he said. "He won't even prove his innocence. That speaks louder than any words."
Ryosuke's gaze never wavered.
"Then I'll cut off the lies myself."
Danzo backed away, chest heaving. He turned to Hiruzen, voice pleading—and threatening.
"You can't let them kill me! You and I… we've done things together. You think if I fall, I'll fall alone?"
It was blackmail.
Danzo wasn't just dragging himself down—he was dragging Hiruzen with him.
The Third Hokage's face turned dark.
They'd done many things together in the shadows—dirty missions, Root operations, political manipulation. But now Danzo was threatening to expose it all unless Hiruzen declared war against the Uchiha on the spot.
"Summon the village's forces," Danzo hissed. "We'll wipe them out. If we wait, it'll be too late."
But Hiruzen faltered. His hesitation spoke of doubt, of guilt. Even with the consequences staring him down, he could not order the massacre of an entire clan—not like this, not while the truth was still soaking the soil.
Danzo turned, seeing the enemy pressing in—Ryosuke with his Mangekyō still glowing, Fugaku unmoved, and dozens of Uchiha surrounding him.
His only escape now lay in Izanagi—but he was already down to his last few eyes.
And worse?
Ryosuke had figured it out.
He wouldn't give him a clean strike. He wouldn't let him reset death again.
The reckoning was coming.
And this time, it was real.
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