Samui's eyes were calm.
Calm to the point of being frightening.
There was no ripple, no flicker, no trace of emotion behind those eyes. They were clear and cold, like still water at the bottom of a forgotten well, reflecting nothing of the world around her.
She looked ahead, but in truth, she was not seeing anything. Her gaze was blank, her face expressionless, and in her heart she felt hollow — a woman without a future, without a path.
Inside her chest, there was no trembling hope, no restless fear, no joy, no sorrow. Only stillness, only a void where once there had been warmth.
The battlefield around her still carried the smell of destruction, the fragments of smoke rising like thin fingers of despair into the air, yet Samui felt nothing. To her, everything had become distant, muffled, as if she were standing behind a thick wall of glass.
She no longer had the strength to imagine tomorrow. She no longer dared to believe in what awaited her next. Blank. That was what she was. Blank without a future.
And then there was Kushina.
Unlike Samui, Kushina could not keep her emotions buried. She was already kneeling down, her knees pressing against the broken earth, her body trembling as though the ground itself rejected her.
Hot tears rolled endlessly down her cheeks, falling and soaking into the dust beneath her hands. She cried, and her sobs were bitter, loud, raw — the kind of crying that tears the heart apart.
"Why…" she muttered, choking on her own voice, "why do all the people I love… all the people I care for… why do they always leave me?"
Her words were broken. They came out like fragments of shattered glass.
"Why do I have to face such a sad life? Why… and why…?"
She buried her face in her palms, her tears slipping through her fingers. Kushina cried bitterly, drowning in memories of everything she had lost.
Her mind drifted back to a time long ago, when she had once been like a princess.
The Whirlpool Country, her home, the land of the proud Uzumaki clan — she remembered it so vividly it hurt.
She remembered how happy she had been back then, how she had laughed every day, how she had run through the village paths with her friends, how she had played in the courtyards surrounded by the strong protective seals of her people.
The people of the Uzumaki clan loved her dearly. They looked at her as their little red-haired princess, full of life, full of light. Those days were golden. Those days were precious.
But that golden light shattered in one night of terror.
She remembered the flames. She remembered the screams. She remembered the overwhelming destruction and the unending death.
She had stood frozen in fear, her small body unable to move as she watched her clansmen slaughtered one after another. The air had been filled with the smell of blood, the sound of steel, and the cries of her people dying.
She had been so scared.
Terrified to the very core of her being.
Somehow, by some miracle, she had managed to hide herself. She had covered her mouth, silenced her sobs, and stayed curled up, trembling, as the destruction swept over her world.
She had watched everything collapse — her clan, her family, her nation — and she had been powerless. When the chaos finally ended, she was alone. Completely alone.
Later, she had been rescued.
A shinobi from Konoha had found her — broken, frightened, clinging to the last threads of her will to live.
That shinobi had taken her from the ruins of her country, carried her through forests and rivers, and delivered her into the care of someone who would change her life forever.
Mito Uzumaki.
Grandmother Mito.
Kushina's eyes softened slightly through her tears as that memory flickered. Living with Mito had brought her happiness again, if only for a while. The wise and gentle woman had embraced her, had guided her, had told her that she was not alone.
For the first time since the destruction of her clan, Kushina had felt warmth again. Mito had cared for her, nurtured her, and given her a home in a world that had stolen hers away.
But life, it seemed, loved to turn on her.
After Mito, she met others who became like family.
She met Tsunade — the fiery, strong-willed woman who treated her as a sister. She met Nawaki, Tsunade's little brother, who became like her own younger sibling.
Together, the three of them laughed, trained, teased each other, and lived as though they were bound by blood.
For Kushina, those days with Tsunade and Nawaki were precious treasures, carved into her soul.
But again, fate was cruel.
Nawaki was lost. Then Mito passed on. One by one, her pillars of strength collapsed, leaving her struggling to stand on her own legs.
Her life twisted and turned like a cruel river — sometimes lifting her with warmth, sometimes drowning her with despair.
And yet, she found love.
Minato.
The memory of him struck her like a blade through the chest. The man who had looked at her not as a burden, not as a weapon, but as a woman.
The man who had loved her fiery hair, her temper, her laughter. Minato Namikaze had been her everything — her husband, her partner, her anchor in the storm. With him, she had felt whole again.
But Minato, too, had been stolen away.
She lost him. She lost the father of her child.
And Naruto… her son, her beloved son… she had not even been able to raise him, to protect him, to be the mother he deserved. That regret burned deepest of all. It ate at her soul every day, every hour, every heartbeat.
And now… now even Indra was gone.
Her voice broke, and she cried harder. Her sobs shook her shoulders, and her hands pressed against the earth as though she were trying to cling to the world itself, afraid it would slip away.
She had lost too much, more than anyone should. She cried bitterly, her tears like endless rain falling upon soil already scarred by war.
She was once a princess, surrounded by love. Now she was a woman drowning in grief.
As Kushina's tears fell, another pair of eyes watched the battlefield.
The Third Hokage.
Sarutobi Hiruzen.
Unlike Kushina, he did not cry. Unlike Samui, he did not feel empty. Instead, within his heart there was a twisted sense of relief. He was happy. Deeply, quietly, secretly happy.
As he looked upon the dust where Indra had fallen, his old lips curled into the faintest smile.
"At least…" he thought to himself, "…at least that monster has finally died."
He breathed in slowly, feeling as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Indra was gone.
The monster was gone. And with his death, there was now room — room for the Third Hokage to regain what he had once lost. Control. Power. The rule of Konoha.
He thought to himself, with satisfaction hidden behind his calm face, that the balance of the village would once again be in his hands.
But then his gaze shifted.
It turned toward Might Guy.
The green-clad warrior was kneeling on one leg, his chest heaving violently. Each breath was ragged, painful, as if the very air sliced through his lungs.
His body trembled, sweat dripping from his brow, his strength nearly gone. Yet he still remained upright, clinging desperately to the last threads of life.
The Third Hokage's eyes grew complicated as he watched Guy struggle.
Yes, Guy had fought bravely. Yes, he had fought like a hero. But to Hiruzen, that bravery was a danger.
A power that existed outside of control. A flame that burned too brightly, beyond the limits of what the village could manage.
Deep down, the Hokage wished for Guy to die here. To die now, as a hero, before his uncontrollable strength became a problem.
His heart whispered coldly: "Die, Might Guy. Die as the hero you are. Let the world remember you in glory, not as a danger."
And as these thoughts swirled in the Third Hokage's heart, the battlefield held its breath.
Danzo's eyes narrowed as he too looked at Might Guy.
Just like the Third Hokage, his thoughts were filled not with sympathy but with cold calculation.
Danzo Shimura, the man of shadows, the one who always moved beneath the surface of Konoha, looked at the kneeling, half-broken Guy and silently agreed with Hiruzen's unspoken wish.
Yes. It was better this way.
Might Guy's power, the Eighth Gate, was something far too dangerous, far too uncontrollable. It was a light that shone too brightly, even brighter than the Will of Fire, and Danzo feared such power.
If Guy lived, he could not be controlled, he could not be bound by orders, he could not be used as a weapon for the village.
Danzo shared the same thought as Hiruzen: "Better for him to die here. Better for him to vanish now, remembered as a hero, rather than live on as a threat."
And so, in the eyes of both the Hokage and Danzo, Guy's struggle was not something to pity — it was something to hope would end.
But for Kakashi, the scene tore his soul apart.
His single visible eye was red — not the red of Sharingan, but the redness of sorrow, the redness that came when tears burned at the edges of vision.
He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he watched his friend, his eternal rival, struggling just to breathe.
Kakashi's heart screamed.
Why? Why was it always like this? Why did everyone he cared about, everyone he looked up to, everyone he leaned on, always leave him?
His mind raced back through the faces of the dead.
His father, Hatake Sakumo — gone.
His friends, Rin and Obito — gone.
His sensei, Minato, and Kushina who had cared for him like family — gone.
Now… his best friend, his rival, his brother in spirit — Might Guy — was on the edge of death.
"Why…" Kakashi whispered under his breath, his voice cracking, "…why does everyone leave me… instead of me dying in their place?"
He truly did not have the heart to continue living. It felt as if the world was mocking him, taking from him again and again, leaving him to stand alone among ghosts.
His chest was heavy with grief, his throat tight with despair. Kakashi's eye brimmed with tears as he thought he was about to lose the last bond he had left.
On the battlefield, Might Guy continued to struggle.
Each breath was shallow, his body trembling like a tree in the middle of a storm. He felt his strength slipping away, his vision blurring. He thought this was the end. He thought his body was about to collapse into silence forever.
And yet, suddenly… something happened that shocked him to the core.
Through the haze of dust settling upon the battlefield, a figure emerged.
A figure walked slowly out of nowhere, the dust parting around him as though the world itself recognized his return.
The figure stepped forward, his steps firm, and then he knelt down opposite of Might Guy. He lowered himself, his gaze fixed on Guy, and then — unexpectedly, casually — he chuckled.
"Sensei," the figure said, his voice filled with playful confidence, "you are truly remarkable."
The words hit the battlefield like a thunderclap.
All around, people turned their heads toward the voice. ANBU. Villagers. Uchiha clansmen. Konoha shinobi. One by one, their eyes widened, their jaws dropped, their hearts pounded.
They were shocked.
They were stunned.
Because the voice… the face… the presence… belonged to someone they thought was dead.
It was Indra.
The Uchiha clansmen felt a surge of joy. Their hearts, heavy with despair, now leapt with hope. Some even smiled, relief flooding through their eyes.
For them, this was not just survival — this was victory, this was vindication, this was their pride standing tall once again.
Among the women, Kurenai and Yugao gasped, their hearts beating faster as they saw Indra alive. Relief swept through them like a tide.
Samui, whose eyes had been blank before, now found a small spark of emotion rising within her — a spark of life in her otherwise hollow heart.
And Kushina, who had been drowning in grief, lifted her face from her hands, her tears still wet, but now her lips trembled with a small, fragile smile. Indra was alive.
In another corner, Setsuna turned toward Toru Uchiha, his eyes gleaming. He whispered a single word: "Izanagi."
Toru nodded in understanding, a faint smile crossing his face. Yes. That was the answer. Indra had survived by preparing for the worst, by twisting fate itself with the forbidden Uchiha technique.
They both smiled faintly, recognizing the brilliance of Indra's planning.
But not everyone shared their joy.
Danzo's face turned ugly. His lips twisted, his eyes darkened, his entire body stiffened in fury.
And the Third Hokage's expression was the same. Ugly, sour, filled with dread. For them, Indra's survival was not relief — it was disaster.
They had just thought they were free, they had just thought the threat was gone, and now that same threat stood before them again with a smirk.
Indra looked at Might Guy, his lips curled into a playful smirk.
"Sensei," he said, his tone light but his words heavy, "you truly killed me this time. But… you forgot. I already planned for the worst outcome. And because of that, I survived."
His eyes gleamed as he continued, "But sensei… you are the strongest opponent I have ever faced. So it's time for goodbye. Let's meet again next time."
Might Guy's breath rattled in his throat. He was not sure what Indra's words truly meant, not sure of the implications behind them. But he understood the sincerity hidden within the tone.
He understood the respect. And so, even as his body weakened, even as pain gnawed at every inch of his flesh, Might Guy smiled.
He smiled, and he said softly, "You are truly a remarkable ninja, Indra. I… I am truly blessed to have had you as my student." His eyes glistened as he spoke his final words. "So farewell, my student… and my friend."
Hearing this, Indra's smirk softened for a heartbeat. Then, without hesitation, he clenched his fist and punched forward. His blow struck Might Guy, whose body crumbled instantly, disintegrating into dust.
Guy was gone.
Though he felt sadness deep inside, Indra did not speak it aloud. He only muttered one word under his breath.
"Idiot."
And then he lifted his gaze. His eyes locked on the Third Hokage.
His expression sharpened, his smirk curved upward again, and with deliberate intention he stared directly at Hiruzen, his silent glare carrying only one meaning:
It's your turn next.
---
End of Chapter
---
Want to read advanced chapter?
Give me your stone to this novel to reach the milestone that will give you bonus chapter per day!!!
50 Power Stones = 1 Bonus Chapter / Day
100 Power Stones = 2 Bonus Chapters / Day
250 Power Stones = 3 Bonus Chapters / Day
Please support me?
See ya!