But it didn't matter! As long as he could attach himself to someone as promising as Shimura Yuta, Uzumaki Nusaku was convinced he could restore the Uzumaki clan to its former glory. It was their duty!
"Thank you, Uncle Nusaku," Yuta said.
"The thanks should be from me, Yuta-kun," Nusaku replied with a tired smile. "If you hadn't arrived when you did, I fear we would all be dead."
He paused, then asked casually, as if the thought had just occurred to him, "By the way, Yuta-kun, why did you come to support us alone?"
"I'm not alone," Yuta corrected, a faint smile on his lips. "My teammates and Konoha's main force are on their way."
No sooner had the words left his mouth than a rustle of movement came from the nearby woods.
"See? They're here."
"Damn it, Yuta! Your speed is insane!" A voice called out as its owner burst from the treeline. "Wait… why does this place look like a giant stepped on it?" Osamu gasped, his eyes widening as he took in the apocalyptic scene. "Don't tell me you did all this?"
"Idiot," Jiraiya drawled, landing beside him. He crossed his arms, looking both annoyed and impressed. "This is clearly the aftermath of a large-scale S-rank ninjutsu. Who else here besides Yuta could have pulled that off?"
Inwardly, he was irritated that Yuta had stolen the thunder of their grand entrance, but even Jiraiya couldn't deny the terrifying scale of the power on display.
"Who were the enemies?" Meyuri's voice was soft but intent as she landed gracefully, her eyes immediately finding Yuta.
She knew his strength made ordinary threats laughable, but a flicker of concern still showed in her eyes.
"The Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist," Yuta answered, his tone matter-of-fact. "They've been dealt with. Those swords are the spoils."
"More than the spoils…" Tsunade's voice trembled slightly as she stepped forward, her eyes sweeping over the huddled group of Uzumaki refugees before settling on Nusaku, a fragile hope in her expression. "Is this… is this all that's left?"
Under her gaze, Nusaku's forced smile faltered. He gave a heavy, solemn nod. "The Clan Head stayed behind to guard the Sealing Technique library. The Young Clan Head sacrificed himself to cover our retreat. The Uzumaki clan now… I'm afraid this is all of us."
Tsunade opened her mouth, but no sound came out. The words caught in her throat. She couldn't begin to imagine what her grandmother, Uzumaki Mito, would feel, learning that her proud, ancient clan had been whittled down to two dozen ragged survivors.
These people were her blood, her legacy. A connection that distance and time could never erase.
"At least Yuta-kun managed to save them, didn't he?" Orochimaru's voice cut through the heavy silence, hoarse as ever, his words carrying an attempt at cold comfort.
"He's right," Nusaku said, rallying with a visible effort. He forced a brighter expression onto his face, though the sadness in his eyes remained. "We survived. The seed remains. There is still hope for the Uzumaki, Little Tsunade. Don't grieve for us just yet."
"You all seem… remarkably relaxed."
The voice came from above them. It was calm, almost conversational.
Every head snapped upward. Standing on a thick, overhanging branch was a tall, middle-aged man with half-lidded eyes. He looked unremarkable, utterly nondescript. But the fact of his sudden, silent appearance in their midst screamed of lethal prowess.
Even Yuta felt surprised.
He had dispelled his Sage Mode after the battle, but even without its enhanced senses, his perception far surpassed that of an ordinary shinobi. Yet, he had felt nothing—no ripple of chakra, no displacement of air. This man was a complete blank in his memory, too.
"Who are you?" Jiraiya demanded, his voice loud and challenging.
The bravado was a front; his every muscle was coiled, ready for a fight. Anyone who could appear like this was no friend.
"Third Mizukage-sama!"
The shout came from several new figures who flashed into existence beside the man on the branch.
That single title sent a jolt of tension through the Konoha group. Only Yuta remained outwardly still.
'The Third Mizukage. He'd come himself.'
"You honor my clan too much," Uzumaki Nusaku said, his expression turning grim. "I never imagined the Mizukage himself would lead this hunt."
Yuta studied the man, his mind racing. The Third Mizukage… there was almost nothing about him in the "original story" he remembered.
Just a shadowy figure credited with starting Kirigakure's brutal "Bloody Mist" era, who made a single, late appearance. But the fact that he had risen to power after the death of the legendary Second Mizukage, Hōzuki Gengetsu, spoke volumes about his own strength.
'This is probably the first true Kage-level opponent I've faced,' Yuta realized.
Kakuzu was an exception, of course. That immortal bounty hunter's power was hard to pin down. With his near-unkillable body, he could be considered Kage-level, but once you knew his tricks, he fell short of the true pinnacle.
This man, however, was an enigma. And in Yuta's experience, an unknown Kage was almost certainly more dangerous.
"You killed the Seven Ninja Swordsmen."
The Third Mizukage's half-open eyes drifted downward, taking in the six legendary blades laid neatly on the scorched earth.
He saw no corresponding bodies, but the implication was clear. His voice remained a placid monotone, yet a seething fury churned beneath its surface.
The losses were catastrophic. The death of Hōzuki Satsuki, wielder of the Kubikiribōchō, had been a blow. But to lose the other six swordsmen as well, on the cusp of annihilating the Uzumaki? It was a crippling wound for the entire Hidden Mist Village. Their elite spearhead was gone.
"In that case," the Third Mizukage said, his light, airy tone belying the absolute finality of his words, "I will send you all to your graves."
He let his gaze sweep over them—the Konoha reinforcements, the pitiful remnants of the Uzumaki.
"Every last one of you… must die."
The words, spoken so softly, rang with the weight of a death sentence, triggering a chorus of silent alarms in the hearts of everyone who heard them.
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