Hundreds of jutsu detonated across the battlefield at once.
Fireballs howled. Earth tore apart. Wind screamed through broken streets. The Uchiha district lit up like day, bathed in red-orange fury and the roar of collapsing stone.
The Root operatives were already gone—fleeing the kill zone they'd created.
From afar, Danzo watched.
The explosion bloomed like a second sun, smoke and chakra crackling with destructive power. He gripped his cane tight.
"That should've killed him."
Beside him, the air shimmered. Obito emerged from the distortion, coughing, cloak scorched, mask half-shattered. His Sharingan still burned through the smoke, fierce and furious.
Danzo didn't look at him.
The blast had been massive—enough to erase anything. He himself had stepped back, unwilling to be caught in its shockwave.
"He should be injured greatly," he muttered.
But the silence that followed… felt wrong.
Too still.
Too heavy.
Obito's voice cut through it.
"You bastard…"
His tone was cracked and raw, but sharp.
"You planned to take me out with that blast."
Danzo finally turned.
"With Izanagi," he said calmly, "you wouldn't die."
Obito's stare sharpened.
Danzo's tone didn't change. "Besides, I helped you. That boy is one less obstacle in your way."
Obito exhaled—short, bitter. His chest still burned. Kamui had dragged. His reflexes were shot. If he hadn't activated Izanagi in time...
Before he could reply, another voice rang out.
Cold.
Measured.
"Hiding for so long… and this is what you came up with?"
Danzo froze.
The battlefield stilled.
Root operatives paused mid-motion.
A golden light flickered through the smoke—subtle, then growing. It didn't burn like fire. It pulsed. Deep. Ancient. Alive.
No...
Step.
A single footstep echoed through the devastation.
Step.
Another.
The smoke split like silk.
Kaito.
He walked through the ruins untouched. Golden chakra danced across his shoulders, wrapping around his form like a cloak of judgment. At his back, a glowing ribcage of energy shimmered in shifting arcs of light.
Wind swept the field.
And there it was.
Susanoo.
Danzo staggered back.
"That… that can't be..."
The chakra ribs expanded, growing wider, taller. Shoulders, arms, a head—the form of a spectral warrior took shape behind Kaito. Massive. Imposing. Radiating dominance.
The full-bodied Susanoo towered above them all, its skeletal armor humming with restrained fury.
Danzo's throat tightened.
He'd studied the legends. He'd heard the tales. Madara. The ghost who moved mountains. The god who ended armies.
And now—it was here again.
"This is… Susanoo…"
Even Root agents faltered. Fingers hovered over kunai. Eyes shifted. No one moved.
Obito said nothing.
He just watched.
The fatigue in his limbs was still there. But now—something else churned.
Unease.
"This isn't just power," he muttered under his breath. "This is control."
Mangekyō Sharingan. It gave strength—but at a cost. And mastery required more than chakra.
Discipline. Pain. Time.
To wield Susanoo like this… Kaito must've awakened it before even Itachi.
He's been hiding it all this time.
A new thought crept in.
He's more dangerous than I thought.
To Be Continued