FUJIN'S CAMP WAS SET up along the border with a collection of tents and makeshift defenses. The army waiting there was restless, but Fujin held them back. He stood at the front, staring into the distance. His eyes narrowed at something faint, but he quickly brushed it off, believing it to be just the wind.
Whatever was going on in his head, he knew that he desired calamity.
"My lead, shall we depart the monks hither?" an underling asked.
"Nay…"
Fujin ordered them to wait twelve hours. After that, they would march into the emperor's land, take what was theirs, and restore what he believed was unjustly taken. It was a simple plan, but the emotions behind it were anything but.
Who could blame him when he had lost the Five-Tails, and no one knew how? His land had also been partly destroyed, and despite accusations, no evidence of sabotage had ever surfaced regarding rival monks being the cause.
Fujin clenched his fists as he turned away from the army. Suddenly, he felt a strange feeling. Like a prickling sensation in his body. His breath hitched, and he staggered. Then the monks looked on in confusion as his body jerked uncontrollably.
"My lead, what alieth thee?!"
Fujin's face twisted with pain, and he pushed away anyone trying to approach.
"Get away!" he shouted.
Then his legs buckled, and he stumbled back while coughing violently. The sound was harsh and unlike anything he had experienced before. Even his monks hesitated to get near. Some still tried to reach out, but he kept waving them off.
His body tensed as he tried ignoring the pain. Then suddenly, he took off running. The monks were visibly confused. They couldn't tell whether they should follow him or not.
"What manner of trickery tis this?!" they asked themselves.
When they finally came to the conclusion that their leader was sick, they quickly ran after him. Yet their act was cut short, for they had lost his trailer.
For an hour, Fujin hurried through the wilderness. The coughing worsened, and his body was wracked with spasms. Finally, he collapsed onto the ground, clutching his chest. With a scream that echoed through the trees, he opened his mouth wide and expelled a thick cloud of smoke from seven different orifices.
The smoke swirled and gathered, coalescing rapidly in the air. It twisted and shifted before forming into a figure—the figure of a person. Arthur.
He landed gracefully on the ground with an unreadable face. "Most would have already died from that."
Fujin, still coughing and weak, looked up at him with fury and growled, "What did you do to me?!"
"That," Arthur said, "was my body oxidation jutsu. It's a technique I use to invade a person's body and corrode them from the inside out."
Fujin's expression darkened as he struggled to sit up. "B-body oxidation?"
"Yes… Effective for most cases, but it seemed like you had enough chakra to force me out."
"Whom art thou?!"
"Let's just say I'm someone who's been a thorn in your side for a while now."
At those words, Fujin's hand shot to his sword as he activated his Sharingan. Arthur did the same, activating his Tamashii. Both men then charged at each other simultaneously with drawn swords.
Clang-clang-clang-clang-clang!
Their blades clashed with a shower of sparks. Fujin's strikes were driven by rage. His Sharingan flashed while trying to predict Arthur's moves. Arthur, however, twisted and turned like he was dancing on clouds. Their clash rang out, and it was clear that neither was budging.
Fujin's sword lunged forward, but Arthur sidestepped with an unshaken calm as the tip of the blade skimmed past his face. Then Fujin went for an overhead strike, but Arthur parried, causing the sound of metal to grind against metal.
Fujin's face twisted with anger. Without warning, he pressed harder and kept Arthur on the defensive. Sparks flew as their blades locked. Suddenly, Fujin's fury boiled over. With a roar, he sliced downward. The instant the blade connected, Arthur's eyes flared. He then quickly stepped back as Fujin's weapon tore through the air.
Shing!
The strike had shattered Arthur's sword in two. Though the weapon was broken, Arthur remained calm. He had known why: Fujin had begun to use chakra. And not just any type of chakra; it was his "Chakra Steel Swordsmanship" technique.
What was so dangerous about it was that it could not be sensed. No glow, no seeable chakra. Had Arthur not noticed his blade breaking in that fraction of a time, his entire body would have been cut.
'I wonder how that would fare against the Blade of Chaos,' he wondered to himself. 'No… He has to earn that first."
It's then that Arthur dropped his hilt. With a hint of respect, he said, "Fujin, your swordsmanship surpasses anyone I've fought before. There's no doubt about that. But even so, you won't win this fight."
Fujin's eyes narrowed as the veins in his neck bulged. Then he spat out, "I care not whoso thou art, but thou art a fool to have challenged me!"
Exactly the response Arthur expected. So he chose to fuel that anger further.
"You've risen through the ranks of the Suzuki family, am I right? But how did you honestly get there?"
"What?!"
"I mean, how did you suddenly awaken your Sharingan at the dojo, only to push it further after your wife's death? I would think that someone—"
Before he could finish, Fujin's sword blurred in a flash as he released a technique with it.
"Wind style: vacuum wave!"
A powerful blast of wind surged forward. Arthur lifted his arm in a backhand block. Then the gust of wind slammed into his whole forearm. The force was immense as wind spiraled upward. Yet Arthur remained unmoved.
"Hmph," he scoffed, lowering his arm. But something was wrong. He looked down at his hand and saw that the wound wasn't closing. The skin was torn, and despite him forcing chakra into the area, it still wasn't healing. "Oh…"
Arthur's Tamashii verified the reason. The sword's chakra-enforced steel was blocking his healing. Arthur had remembered this from someone's memories, but he had forgotten this important quality.
Unperturbed by the carelessness, he sensed it—an incoming attack. Fujin's blade was about to cut across his neck. The strike seemingly cut his neck off. But instead of the blade slicing him, a log appeared in his place. Fujin turned around, only to be delivered a sharp punch to the jaw by the real Arthur.
Bang!
The force sent him flying backward before he flipped midair and landed on his feet with a growl of frustration. The mention of his dead wife had clearly fueled his rage, making him more reckless.
Such was the problem when fighting Arthur: he used psychology in battle.
Arthur's whole arm stung from the wound, but he showed no expression of the pain. Instead, he pulled out another sword, holding it in one hand. This time, he infused chakra into the blade to prevent it from being cut so easily.
"Thou thinkest thou may combat me with but one hand?" Fujin snarled.
"No," Arthur simply replied. Then he lunged forward. "I know I can."
Swords clashed in a fierce duel that lasted several more rounds. Each time Fujin attempted to unleash a wind technique, Arthur never once gave his opponent the chance. Fujin's own strikes were driven by his anger and desperation, allowing Arthur to move smoother and parry without ever losing his composure.
Eventually, he forced Fujin to a knee as the latter panted heavily.
"I was hoping you'd put up a better fight," Arthur said, blade now resting lightly on his shoulder. "That's too bad."
In response, Fujin slowly raised his head. His eyes suddenly changed. The Sharingan spun faster, and in a flash, the star-like pattern of the Mangekyo Sharingan appeared—exactly like Sasuke Uchiha's!
"Amaterasu!"
'Black lightning: electric needle spark…'
Black flames streaked toward Arthur as he barely dodged, leaving behind a trail of black electricity. Yet Fujin wasn't finished; he unleashed a barrage of more black flames, causing Arthur to move so swiftly it seemed as if he was teleporting left and right.
In the midst of his dodging, Arthur finally understood something: those star-shaped Mangekyō Sharingan were no ordinary eyes, which could only mean that Fujin was the reincarnation of Indra Ōtsutsuki.
Now Arthur was thrilled.
Just as he was about to close the distance for a counter, Fujin's attack abruptly stopped. His hand shot to his eye, clutching it, as if the pain were too much to bear. Such was the downside of overusing the Mangekyō's power, which was overtaxed.
"You won't get the chance," Arthur said. With an electric burst, he closed the gap between them in milliseconds. "Now die…"
A relentless series of chakra-infused strikes cut through Fujin's body, and in moments, the fight was over. Fujin's body slowly stood there for a moment until Arthur finally sheathed his weapon. Then, as if on cue, his body collapsed to the ground.
Blood dripped from the cuts to the ground as Arthur stood over him in silence. Fujin's eyes were now dull, the Sharingan faded, replaced by blank, exhausted eyes. His face betrayed the truth: he was beaten.
He stared at the sky, ignoring Arthur's presence over him. The silence stretched until Arthur finally spoke, "Tell me, Mr. Suzuki, what compelled you to take this path?"
Fujin's lips trembled, but he managed to rasp out, "Wh…" Arthur was patient, yet. Fujin's voice was barely a whisper. "Why doth a stranger… wish to know?"
"Thinketh me cruel?" Arthur calmly responded. "Shouldest not my opponent hath any last words? Or wouldest thou prefer I speak in thy tongue to receive thy answer?"
Quiet came next for half a minute. Then Fujin rasped, "Twas… following my late grandfather's wishes."
'I see,' Arthur thought.
He had no need for more detail—he knew exactly who his "late grandfather" was. Indra Otsutsuki. The pieces fit perfectly. The Sharingan, the obsession with revenge, the endless cycle of hatred.
"All I did desire was to avenge the demise of my wife," Fujin continued in a cracking voice. "But a strong foe like thee... thou didst stay me."
"Your wife died from an illness, did she not?"
Fujin's eyes flashed with a moment of pain. "Nay… Twas a creature of black."
A creature of black? Arthur's expression was kept stoic. Only one creature fit this picture, and it was Zetsu.
"And you vowed to find and slay this creature till your last breath?" Arthur guessed.
Fujin weakly nodded. "Now I hath failed."
Arthur watched as Fujin's body grew still. The last remnants of chakra faded from his form. The man was gone—dead. No pulse, no breath. Just the wind brushing past the scene.
As Arthur stared at the corpse, he finally understood Fujin's story.
Indra Ōtsutsuki was written to have gone into hiding, forming a sect that supported ninjutsu. As Hagoromo lay on his deathbed, Indra had vowed to his father that the ways of ninshū would never be the right path, so Indra would use ninjutsu to breed more war, and through the cycle of reincarnation, he would keep fighting through his descendants.
Fujin was the first to carry that torch. As for the murder of Fujin's wife, it was most likely caused by Black Zetsu.
Zetsu was essentially the extension of Kaguya Ōtsutsuki's will, created long ago with the single goal of bringing her back to the earth. Over the centuries, it has worked quietly in the background, pulling strings, influencing key events, and guiding powerful individuals to serve her interests.
Zetsu, still scheming in this time, was probably trying to ignite a conflict between Fujin and whoever Asura's reincarnation was. To do that, Zetsu needed Fujin to awaken his Mangekyō Sharingan and push him over the edge.
Now Fujin was dead, and Arthur had not once sensed Zetsu's presence here at all. All that told him was that the reincarnation cycle would continue once again. Fujin's death was just a link in that chain. And Arthur—by his hand—had continued that link.
✟
Arthur silently watched from afar as Fujin's remaining forces arrived.
They found their leader lying in a pool of blood and unmoving. They tried to heal him, but it was too late. Their attempts were futile; Fujin's body had already gone cold.
One of the monks spoke softly, asking what they should do now. Another answered quietly, "Since our head is departed, there is no cause to assail this land. Let us return whence we came. We are no match for whosoever hath wrought this deed."
Arthur understood the monk's words as such: because their head was now dead, they had no more reason to continue this war. Not just out of grief, but out of pure fear.
Because anyone who could defeat their strongest monk in battle only meant that the rest of their forces would never stand a chance.