"Since it's yours, then I don't need to worry about killing the wrong person."
Kuugetsu's voice was completely devoid of emotion. At the same time, her eyes were changing at a speed visible to the naked eye. The three tomoe merged, shifted, and finally formed a pattern that resembled a lotus.
Kushimaru stared, stunned by the lotus-like pattern in Kuugetsu's eyes. What was that? It looked nothing like any Sharingan he'd seen before — and where did this terrifying momentum come from?
As the lotus pattern formed, Kuugetsu's presence skyrocketed at an alarming pace. In the blink of an eye, her aura had reached a level so overwhelming that even a glance into her eyes sent shivers down to Kushimaru's soul.
This kind of terror—he had only ever felt it from one man: the Fourth Mizukage, Yagura.
As a seasoned veteran jōnin, Kushimaru Kuriarare had once believed he was no weaker than the childlike Yagura. In fact, when Yagura first took power, Kushimaru secretly attempted an assassination without even telling his comrades.
It was in that battle that he realized the depth of Yagura's terrifying strength. Despite his youthful appearance, once Yagura unleashed his true power, Kushimaru hadn't even had the chance to fight back.
That assassination attempt humbled him completely, making him bow his proud head and swear absolute loyalty to Yagura from that day on.
Now, to feel that same suffocating aura emanating from a girl barely in her twenties—how could Kushimaru not be shocked?
Shock quickly gave way to doubt. To him, sudden explosive growth of power was impossible. If a mere jōnin could reach Kage level just by watching their father die before their eyes, then Kushimaru Kuriarare would have long since rushed back to Kirigakure and slaughtered his entire clan himself. And he would have meant it.
Since killing one's family didn't actually make you stronger, he simply refused to believe Kuugetsu had suddenly become powerful. It had to be some secret jutsu—some illusion or trick. That was his conclusion.
Perhaps to bolster his own courage, Kushimaru swallowed nervously, then forced out a loud, mocking laugh:
"Kill the wrong person? Don't make me laugh! You think you can? Out of everyone here, the only ones you could even hope to kill are those three brats over th—"
His words cut off as searing pain twisted through his chest, as if something had stabbed into his heart and then cruelly churned it.
Shocked, Kushimaru lowered his gaze. From behind his mask, his eyes caught sight of Kuugetsu standing directly before him, her slender, straight ninja blade buried in his heart.
Impossible! Just moments ago, they had been thirty meters apart! How could she appear before him without making a single move? Even the Third Raikage—hailed as the fastest in the shinobi world—couldn't have achieved that!
But Kuugetsu had no intention of giving him the answer.
Listening to the choking gurgles rising from Kushimaru's throat, her face remained utterly expressionless. Her eerie lotus-pattern Mangekyō Sharingan locked on to the mask covering his face as she spoke, each word sharp and cold:
"Trash like you doesn't even deserve the right to go to hell. Your soul will scatter here and now."
As Kuugetsu spoke, the pattern in her right eye twisted strangely. In the next second, flames erupted from the blade of the Sword of Kusanagi: Chokutō, spreading at a terrifying speed from the weapon straight onto Kushimaru Kuriarare's body.
Already on the brink of death, Kushimaru didn't even have time to scream before the blazing flames devoured him, reducing him to charred remains.
The fight between Kuugetsu and Kushimaru Kuriarare had lasted only an instant. By the time the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist and Might Duy turned their heads, Kuriarare Kushimaru had already been reduced to a pile of charcoal.
Everyone present stared blankly at Kuugetsu and the burning body before her, struck completely speechless.
Their minds froze—what exactly had just happened?
And before they could recover, something even stranger occurred. The flames that had been consuming Kushimaru's corpse suddenly pulled away at Kuugetsu's beckoning gesture, flying back toward her side.
As the fire left it, Kushimaru's charred remains crumbled to ash under a passing breeze—just as Kuugetsu had promised.
The searing flames danced around her like spirits, illuminating her long black hair with a faint crimson glow. Bathed in that firelight, she looked like a goddess of flame, high and untouchable. Even the bloodstains on her face did not mar her beauty—instead, they lent her an even more breathtaking, fearsome allure.
Kuugetsu reached out instinctively, extending a finger toward the flames hovering around her.
What happened next shocked everyone. The same fire that had reduced Kushimaru to ash in mere seconds did not burn her flesh. Instead, it rested calmly against her fingertip, flickering as though in excitement—more like a butterfly dancing upon her hand than a flame meant to destroy.
In that moment, Kuugetsu felt no heat at all.
Lowering her gaze, she caught her reflection in the blade of the Sword of Kusanagi: Chokutō. There, clear as day, she could see the strange new pattern in her eyes—utterly unlike any three-tomoe Sharingan.
At once a legend she had heard a thousand times as an Uchiha — a tale every clan member could recite by heart — came to mind.
The legend said that during the Warring States era, Uchiha Madara and his brother Izuna awakened a power beyond the three-tomoe Sharingan after losing what they treasured most. With that power, they stood alongside Hashirama Senju, the First Hokage, to bring an end to the age of chaos.
That power beyond the three tomoe… she had heard her father speak of it before.
It was called: the Mangekyō Sharingan.
Had she truly awakened this legendary power because of her father's death?
Staring into the reflection of her strange new eyes, all Kuugetsu could see was the gentle silhouette of the man she loved most.
So this is Father's final gift to me…
If that was the case, then she would use these eyes to carry out his vengeance.
The one most responsible for her father's death had already fallen. As for the others who played a part—she would never let them go.