Yakume's death seemed to mirror Yōwan's own fate.
Although he had escaped Jiraiya's restraints, his body was heavily injured. How could he possibly have the strength to fight against Jiraiya—the strongest combatant among the three?
He could only watch helplessly as Jiraiya's fists and feet slammed into him, and as one by one, the clansmen who had followed him fell to the ground.
When the corpse of the Uzumaki woman he had been controlling was finally pinned down by Danzō and Hiruzen working together, the man who had defected from Konoha more than a decade ago and brought endless calamities upon the village seemed to have finally run out of tricks.
He no longer had the energy to dodge Jiraiya's attacks, nor could he block the kunai flying at him from the shadows.
With one powerful kick, Jiraiya sent Yōwan flying nearly ten meters away. He collapsed, gasping for breath, unable to stand again.
"Be careful. This guy hasn't used Izanagi yet."
As soon as Danzō spoke, Hiruzen turned to look at his old friend with an indescribable expression.
Why do you sound so damn familiar with that technique?
"What are you looking at?"
Danzō clearly didn't like being stared at.
"Nothing. Just thinking that your skin's gotten a lot thicker since we were kids."
Hiruzen muttered under his breath.
"What did you say?!"
"What, am I wrong?"
The two old men suddenly reverted to their younger selves, bickering like children.
Only Jiraiya remained serious, keeping his eyes fixed on Yōwan as he prepared to seize his Sharingan.
"Heh... hehehe..."
Yōwan let out a weak, bitter laugh.
Izanagi? Only cowards like Shisui and Uchiha Madara, desperate to cling to life, would use such a jutsu.
He, Yōwan—no matter how wretched or despicable—would never escape death by sacrificing his eyes like they did.
If he wanted to live in hiding, he would never have started this chaos in the first place.
For him, there was only ever one path ahead—to keep fighting until the end.
"Danzō, you treacherous... You killed my grandfather, slaughtered countless Uchiha. Those stolen Sharingan in your arm are the best proof of your crimes."
"But don't worry. I won't be like you, a shameless coward clinging to life. Izanagi... only you conspirators who crawl in the dark would ever stoop to using such filth!"
Yōwan gathered his last breath and roared at Danzō, who was still bickering with Hiruzen.
Danzō's already terrifying face instantly grew even darker.
It had been many years since anyone dared curse him to his face.
Fugaku's expression also stiffened. He was deeply worried Danzō might take out his anger on the Uchiha clan because of this.
Even though Danzō no longer had direct power over the Root organization, he was still the current Hokage's father.
And though the current Hokage wasn't exactly a model of filial obedience, their relationship couldn't be ignored. If Danzō truly decided to act, the Hokage likely wouldn't intervene.
"Hah... hahahahahaha..."
Yōwan laughed a few times before his strength gave out completely, his breathing slowing until he fell silent.
"Dead?"
With a cold face, Danzō was the first to step forward.
"Hey, Advisor Danzō, you—"
Jiraiya hesitated, trying to stop him—but then a thought struck him, and he lowered his hand again.
Hmm. Maybe it's not a bad idea to let the old bastard check first. What if Yōwan's just playing dead?
Danzō wasn't a fool either. As he approached, he casually picked up a fallen ninja blade and stabbed it straight into Yōwan's chest.
"Definitely dead."
To make sure, he leaned down and carefully examined Yōwan's face—then turned and left without another word.
"Bring this man's corpse back. Hand it over to—"
Hiruzen was just about to issue orders when he suddenly noticed Yōwan's eyelids sunken in, and the twitch at the corner of his mouth made him instantly realize what had happened.
That damned Danzō—he'd taken both Mangekyō Sharingan!
"Danzō!"
Hiruzen spun around, but Danzō was already gone.
"That old thief!"
Hiruzen stomped the ground in fury and quickly chased after him.
...
"So this is what a homunculus amounts to, huh?"
Elsewhere, Takeshi watched the powerless Sloth struggle before him with a smug grin.
He had thought homunculi were supposed to be something extraordinary—but this?
He had only used about half his strength, and that arrogant creature was already kneeling before him.
Sloth said nothing. Kneeling on the ground, he let the ice swallow him whole.
His injuries were too severe—or perhaps Takeshi's strength simply far surpassed that of any other ninja.
Known for his defense, Sloth could still breathe after being bombarded by Takeshi's large-scale Ice Release techniques. That alone was a testament to his artificial body's endurance.
But surrender? Never.
Why? The answer was simple—
He was lazy.
He was so lazy, he couldn't even be bothered to open his mouth to admit defeat.
And besides—who said he had already lost?
At the farthest edge of the city, beyond the reach of the spreading frost, a woman with Byakugan, dressed exactly like Ras, had already drawn her bowstring taut.
Through her enhanced vision, she clearly saw Sloth's miserable state and Takeshi's stance.
"Impressive little brat... to have pushed Sloth that far."
"How far, Lust?" Reimei asked curiously.
The homunculus called Lust ignored her. Two arrows rested on her bowstring, ready to fly at any moment, while the dark bow itself gleamed with a strange, eerie light.
"One step..."