Danzo's scream tore through the forest, raw and guttural. His right arm — the grotesque mass of stolen Sharingan — now severed, lay twitching in the dirt. Towering above him, the man cloaked in a glowing skeletal armor stood silent, ominous.
Ryosuke had arrived.
The great tree Danzo conjured — a monstrous wooden construct meant to consume everything in its path — had been violently split in two. Shattered like glass, its roots still spasmed uselessly in the aftermath.
Moments earlier, Ryosuke had summoned the skeletal form of his Susanoo, the initial stage of the legendary Uchiha defense. He didn't hesitate. Against someone like Danzo, there was no need for restraint. This wasn't the First Hokage — this wasn't Hashirama Senju, whose Wood Release could reshape landscapes. This was a pale imitation, a scavenger pretending to wield the power of a god.
Danzo's Wood Release might be powerful by conventional standards — perhaps even Kage-level — but compared to the real thing, it was laughable. Ryosuke knew that. The Susanoo, even in its base form, could withstand it. And if it couldn't? He had fists for that.
Emerging from the crumbling bark and tangled roots, Ryosuke launched himself forward. His knees bent sharply before propelling him like a cannonball through the air. The sheer force of his leap cratered the trunk beneath him, the explosion of chakra rippling out.
Danzo barely had time to process it. In the blink of an eye, Ryosuke was there — fists and feet raining down without mercy. Each strike was surgical, aimed to disable, disarm, dismantle. Danzo couldn't even lift his arms in defense. He was nothing more than a sandbag, crumbling under the fury of the Uchiha.
A final punch sent Danzo sprawling into the dirt, his body twisted and broken. Bones snapped audibly, and his breathing became ragged. Ryosuke stood over him, scanning the fallen elder with wary eyes.
The right arm was gone — that much was certain. But Ryosuke didn't relax.
Danzo's greatest weapon wasn't just the stolen Sharingan — it was Izanagi, the forbidden Uchiha technique that allowed its user to rewrite reality. As long as he had a functioning eye, he could cheat death itself. Ryosuke knew this all too well.
So he waited.
Seconds stretched into minutes. But Danzo didn't move. There was no telltale glow of a reactivating jutsu. No regeneration. No reversal.
Had he already used it? Was the right eye spent? Or had Ryosuke struck him down before he could even activate the technique?
Either way, it didn't matter.
The threat was neutralized. And with that, the knot of dread in Ryosuke's chest began to loosen.
The Uchiha Massacre — that blood-soaked night he feared — might no longer come to pass. In canon, that tragedy began with Danzo. He had manipulated Itachi, fueled Konoha's paranoia, and greenlit genocide. His actions were a direct continuation of the Second Hokage's hatred toward the Uchiha.
Now? Danzo was nothing but a battered husk.
And the Uchiha still stood.
Ryosuke's gaze hardened. If Konoha were to be rebuilt into a place where his clan could thrive, it had to start with people like Danzo being removed. Permanently.
Just then, a shadow leapt between the branches overhead — fast, controlled, but heavy with urgency.
It was Uchiha Fugaku.
As clan head, he had remained at the front lines to steady the situation. After all, the Uchiha had confronted both Danzo and the Third Hokage directly — a political powder keg if ever there was one. He had feared that the heads of the other clans might retaliate, or worse, band together to oppose them.
But surprisingly… they didn't.
Fugaku had seen the fear in their eyes — the hesitation. No one dared challenge the Uchiha. Not after what Ryosuke had done to the Third Hokage, and now to Danzo. Not when they saw what the Sharingan could truly become.
When Fugaku arrived, he immediately spotted the massive tree dominating the landscape — easily three times the size of the surrounding forest. And beneath it, Ryosuke stood beside Danzo's broken body and his severed arm, still wrapped in bandages.
Fugaku's lips curled into a grim smile.
Finally. The man who had schemed for years against their clan — reduced to this.
Ryosuke turned to him, voice cold and purposeful.
"Take his body and that arm back to the village. Show the clan heads. Let them see we didn't act without cause."
Fugaku understood immediately. This wasn't just justice. It was strategy. By revealing Danzo's crimes publicly, the Uchiha would prove their actions were necessary — even noble. The other clans would have no room to object.
After all, stealing a kekkei genkai — especially something as sacred as the Sharingan — was a grave crime. One punishable by death under shinobi law.
Within minutes, Ryosuke and Fugaku returned to the village. The other clan heads gathered nervously, whispering as they saw Fugaku dragging a broken, unconscious Danzo like a discarded weapon.
Many of them had once feared Danzo — the powerful village elder, the mastermind behind Root. Now they stared in stunned silence.
Fugaku spoke calmly but firmly.
"Let me show you what this man has done to our clan."
He gripped Danzo's right arm and sliced off the bandages with one smooth motion. The wrappings fell like wilted leaves, revealing the horror beneath.
Multiple Sharingan eyes stared back — dozens, embedded grotesquely into his flesh. Some were closed. Others flickered faintly. And above them all, on Danzo's face, another eye — dead, dulled, and lifeless. Used.
Ryosuke nodded. That confirmed it. Danzo had activated Izanagi at least once — but he'd been too slow the second time.
Gasps echoed around the gathering.
No one had expected this. Even the most hardened shinobi looked pale. One man had harvested the eyes of an entire clan. It was disgusting. Inhuman.
Someone muttered, "How did he sleep with that on his arm?"
Fugaku's voice thundered across the courtyard.
"Now you see. This man stole our bloodline. Our legacy. Do any of you object to his execution?"
Silence.
None dared speak. To steal another clan's kekkei genkai was one of the highest offenses in the shinobi world — especially when it came to the Sharingan. This wasn't a political squabble anymore. It was personal. It was unforgivable.
And worse — how had Danzo obtained all these eyes? The Uchiha clan never willingly gave them. That could only mean one thing: murder.
The realization chilled the air. Danzo hadn't just stolen their bloodline — he had slaughtered them to do it.
The silence became assent. Even those who once served beside Danzo now looked away, ashamed.
Fugaku pressed again, his eyes locked on theirs.
"No objections?"
None.
Danzo's death was sealed — whether now or in a formal trial, the result would be the same.
And the Third Hokage? He lay unconscious, struck down by Ryosuke earlier. Some of the clan heads began to doubt his strength altogether. Was he really the protector of the village? Or had his time passed?
No one said it aloud. But the question hung in the air.
For now, one thing was clear:
The Uchiha had taken justice into their own hands.
And no one — not even the old gods of Konoha — dared stop them.
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