A killing chill spread across the Fire–Rain border. But neither Yorin nor Danzō struck first—they opened with a round of words.
"How much of a chance do you think you have, old man?" Uchiha Yorin asked, brimming with confidence. "Even at full strength, fresh and unhurt—no, go further—back in your prime: do you think you were my match?"
"Monster of the Uchiha."
To Yorin's mild surprise, Danzō agreed. "Against monsters like you, no number of lives is enough."
Yorin: "Wow—so you plan to kill yourself? Saves me some effort."
"Heh." Danzō didn't bite; he knew he'd lose that exchange.
This was before the massacre night; Danzō hadn't remade himself into a deranged chimera.
Hashirama cells, stolen eyes, Wood Release, causality-cheating Izanagi, the unbeatable Kotoamatsukami—
He had none of it yet. Just decent Wind Release and hard-earned taijutsu.
Against Yorin, that was just waiting to be minced by Thunder–Fire dual blades. Impossible.
He accepted it—he would die here.
Since he was dying, he'd make it count.
He would drive a thorn into Yorin's heart:
"You think killing me will endear you to the Fourth?
"At first he'll be grateful. It won't last. It will turn to fear and suspicion.
"You're Uchiha—born evil. You monsters are fated to part ways with the Hokage—fated to fail, fated to betray. I'm only going ahead of you. I'll be waiting in hell, Uchiha Yorin! Hahaha!"
Yorin: "Finished?"
What shocked Danzō was Yorin's utter lack of reaction—no surprise, no anger, no fear. As if he didn't care a whit.
If Yorin were a big-hearted fool like Guy, maybe. But Danzō knew—Yorin was the most cunning, wicked opponent he'd ever faced. He knew the danger. So why—
"Because I already thought of that."
"What?"
"I said—I've long been ready to fall out with Minato, bro."
Danger snapped in. Danzō's kunai flicked up on instinct—pain detonated in his left arm. He flickered back to create space, right hand moving to one-hand seals—Wind Release—Vacuum Wave—
Nothing.
Just void where his arm had been.
A clack on the ground ahead—only then did he realize Yorin had severed his left arm.
His kunai caught Yorin's left blade—
the right took the limb. Too fast to follow.
No left arm—no seals—half his arsenal gone. Danzō wasn't a taijutsu main like Yorin; half his strength evaporated.
"Lord Danzō—!"
"—Ahh!!"
Root remnants finally reacted, roaring as they charged Yorin—
A second later, the scene froze Danzō again.
In an instant, the Root remnants were dead.
Chakra threads.
Twelve in total, snaking from behind Yorin; each line tugging a kunai.
They floated like living things behind him—like serpents, like dragons, like the tendrils of a dark god.
A heartbeat ago, eight of them moved—eight kunai, eight kills.
Many died running—two more steps and they pitched forward, eyes wide in disbelief.
Too fast—hair-raisingly fast.
"Manipulating Shuriken—no… those aren't wires—they're chakra threads… And lightning. The threads are Lightning-natured—amped for speed?"
Old Kage instincts: his body was lacking, but his mind saw the core in a blink.
Knowing didn't help.
A withered old man wasn't going to solve this.
Stunned, he found himself in a storm of steel—ten master swordsmen's flurry compressed into one—reeling, off-balance—defending everywhere, breaking everywhere—until deep gashes opened shoulder to hip and blood sheeted down—his legs buckled and he sank to his knees before Yorin.
"So… why?"
He still didn't get it.
Yorin hadn't ended it in one stroke—not because he couldn't, but because he didn't want to. That meant room to talk:
"Why side with the Fourth? A man like you should be working with me."
"Even villains want good partners. And I'm no villain—I'm a good man," Yorin said.
"You think my alliance with Minato will fail… maybe. But working with you is bargaining with a tiger."
He opened his Sharingan. "You covet these eyes, Danzō. That alone—earns you death."
"Heh—heh-heh—HAHAHAHA!"
Caught red-handed, Danzō's last shred of denial burned away. He laughed himself hoarse—then roared and charged, a final-suicide rush:
"Uchiha Yorin!!"
He wanted death.
So be it.
Yorin raised the eyes he craved most—and gave him a final gift: genjutsu.
Blood flashed; Danzō froze.
Kage fear genjutsu less—Mangekyō Uchiha open with Susanoo more than illusions.
But Danzō wanted death; he was exhausted and bled-out—his resistance cratered—so he sank in at once.
…
In the illusion—what did Danzō see?
Becoming Hokage, basking in glory?
Marching legions, conquering the world?
His face carved on Hokage Rock, cheered by all?
None of that.
It was long ago—the day his teacher, Tobirama Senju, died.
Faced with Tobirama's question, young Danzō chose silence—while Sarutobi Hiruzen stepped forward without hesitation.
Years later he realized: that moment of silence cost him the Hokage's seat forever—condemned him to be a shadow behind Hiruzen.
Every time he remembered, pain like a serpent gnawed his soul—remorse and guilt so heavy he bent under them.
This time—he got a second chance.
He stepped in front of Hiruzen and said the words: "Sensei, I will go!"
Brows rose; his idol—Tobirama—smiled in approval. "Good."
Shimura Danzō smiled like a child.
…
Thump.
Old, ruined, one-armed, he fell in the downpour—still wearing a satisfied smile.
Yorin regarded him for a beat, then lifted his blade. "Rest easy, Shimura Danzō."
The sword fell—head parted neck—and the system chimed:
[Boss Quest · Rot of Root — Complete. Reward Delivered.]
Only then did Yorin exhale—certain that Shimura Danzō was truly dead.
~~~
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