The night mist clung thick to the coastline of the Land of Water, heavy with the scent of salt and damp earth. Waves hissed against the rocks below, a constant murmur beneath the silence of the road. Two figures walked that silence — one tall, broad, carrying an enormous slab of iron across his back; the other slender, cloaked, his every step as soft as falling ash.
Jūzō Biwa adjusted the Executioner's Blade with a grunt, the steel catching threads of moonlight. "Tch. You never say a damn word, do you?" His voice was low, rough, already tired of silence. "Traveling with you's like dragging a ghost around."
At his side, Itachi Uchiha didn't turn. His eyes — black for now, unreadable — stayed forward. "What do you want me to say?"
Jūzō barked a laugh. "Hah! So you can speak when you want. Guess there's some life under all that stone."
The mist thickened as they moved. Water beaded on Jūzō's wild hair, and his grin faded as memory tugged at him. "You ever hear of Might Duy? Leaf shinobi."
Itachi's gaze flicked toward him briefly. "I only know of Might Guy."
Jūzō's grin twitched wider. "Then it must've been his brat. Figures he's still around…" He let the thought hang, then leaned on his blade.
"There was this man — nothing special, or so we thought. A fool. We all laughed at him. But when the Seven Ninja Swordsmen marched, he opened something forbidden. Tore through us like paper. From seven… down to three." His eyes narrowed, almost grudging. "Whatever that power was, it killed him. But it left the rest of us remembering his name."
Itachi said nothing. His silence was neither agreement nor denial, only a wall.
Jūzō spat into the mist. "A shinobi willing to gamble everything on one strike… that's a kind of monster even we have to respect."
Itachi's only reply was a steady gaze forward. Jūzō laughed once, sharp and bitter. "Cold bastard."
The road wound down toward the sea. But before they reached the shore, the air shifted. Heavy. Watchful.
Itachi stopped. Jūzō's grin vanished.
Shapes bled out of the mist — masked shinobi, blades in hand, their movements silent and coordinated. ANBU. Dozens. They encircled the pair, disciplined lines closing in with every breath.
And then he appeared. Small, almost boyish, but the weight of him bent the air. Staff in hand, eyes hard and unblinking.
The Fourth Mizukage. Jinchūriki of the Three-Tails.
"Jūzō Biwa. Uchiha Itachi," Yagura said, voice flat, cutting through the mist. "You trespass too boldly."
Jūzō bared his teeth, already dragging the Executioner's Blade free. "Damn it… of all the people…"
Itachi's eyes opened fully. Scarlet tomoe spun in black. Base Sharingan — calm, precise, inevitable.
Yagura raised his staff. "You will not leave alive."
The mist trembled.
And then the battlefield erupted.
---
### Itachi vs the ANBU
The ANBU moved first, their formation snapping like jaws. Water surged into spears, kunai cut through the fog, silent killing steps angled from every direction.
Itachi did not move until the last instant. His Sharingan caught every twitch, every ripple. His body shifted like water slipping through cracks. Steel passed him by without ever touching.
A kunai meant for his throat stopped midair — its wielder's eyes went wide as the world shattered into crows. A heartbeat later, his body fell, throat cut by his own blade under Itachi's genjutsu.
Three more dropped from above. Itachi's hand flickered — shuriken scattered in arcs too precise to follow, ricocheting off tree trunks, off each other. By the time they struck, all three ANBU were falling.
"Damn it! Don't meet his eyes—!" one shouted.
Too late.
A squad of six tried to drown him in water release — great torrents that collapsed the trees. Itachi weaved between the surging walls, fire bursting from his lips in a narrow stream. The flames drilled through the jutsu, split it apart, and cut down the shinobi hidden behind it. Their screams were short, choked, and gone.
Another squad tried silent killing, erasing sound, scent, presence. But the Sharingan didn't need sound. Itachi's gaze pierced through them like glass. In seconds, the mist filled with bodies — slashed, pierced, burned.
Twenty ANBU. Then twenty-five. Not one scratch on his cloak.
The last five rushed together, desperation breaking discipline. Their masks gleamed in the moonlight as they came at him from every side. For an instant, it seemed they had him boxed.
Itachi moved once. His blade flashed.
When he stopped, they fell in silence, one after another, the mist swallowing their blood.
The battlefield stilled. Thirty ANBU, slaughtered.
Itachi's eyes cooled back to black. He did not speak. He simply turned his gaze to where Jūzō struggled against the Mizukage.
---
### Jūzō vs Yagura
The Executioner's Blade crashed against Yagura's staff. Sparks burst in the mist, water exploding into waves under the force.
"You little brat—!" Jūzō roared, swinging wide. The blade carved a trench into the ground, but Yagura was already gone, water propelling him like a phantom.
Three-Tails chakra surged, bubbling around him. A tail flicked into existence, its weight cracking stone.
Itachi watched from the treeline, silent, calculating.
Yagura's eyes burned. "So this is the strength of the Uchiha… thirty ANBU erased like they were nothing. You're a demon, Itachi."
His chakra roared higher. "But even demons fall before a Jinchūriki."
The bubbling mass gathered in his mouth — a Tailed Beast Bomb forming, raw annihilation.
Jūzō saw it, teeth bared. "Like hell… I'll let you take me without a fight!" He raised the Executioner's Blade, meeting the impossible head-on.
The explosion was blinding.
When the light cleared, the sword was gone — shattered. Its jagged half had impaled Jūzō himself, driven through him by the force of the blast.
He coughed blood, staggered, then laughed raggedly. "Heh… guess this… is it…" His eyes turned to Itachi, fierce even as life drained away. "Don't… waste it…"
He collapsed. The broken steel stayed buried in him, a cruel gravestone.
---
### Itachi vs Yagura
Silence pressed in — broken only by the bubbling roar of the Three-Tails' chakra.
Itachi's Sharingan turned. Three tomoe blurred — and then twisted. Mangekyō bloomed, its crimson pattern burning like a curse against the night.
Yagura barely had time to widen his eyes.
"Amaterasu."
Black fire exploded across his body, clinging to flesh and chakra alike, searing the beast's energy. Yagura screamed, staggering back, tails thrashing as the flames devoured him.
Itachi's gaze didn't waver.
---
### Konan's Intervention
Paper rustled.
The battlefield suddenly filled with whirling sheets, sharp as blades, blotting out the moon. They wrapped the space between Itachi and Yagura, forcing the Mizukage's advance to halt. Wings of white unfolded, cutting through mist.
Konan's voice was cool, absolute. "Enough. Withdraw."
Itachi's Mangekyō burned a moment longer. Then, slowly, he closed his eyes. The black flames hissed and withered away, leaving Yagura scorched, shaking, and finally collapsing face-first into the earth. Unconscious.
The broken body of Jūzō was lifted gently in Konan's paper. The Executioner's Blade — in pieces — remained buried in the ground.
Itachi turned once, looking at his fallen partner. His face did not change. His eyes did not soften. But his silence spoke more than words.
The Akatsuki vanished into the mist, leaving the shoreline littered with blood and ruin.
Yagura lay unmoving, the mist reclaiming him, as though the land itself wished to hide the shame of his defeat.
---
**End of Chapter 17**