The second Jonin immediately turned his full focus to Shanks, raising his blade to meet the incoming strike.
But he was too late.
Beneath his feet, the ground suddenly turned to frost. Thick ice spread rapidly upward—snaking around his legs and locking his lower body in place. Frosty's doing.
As Shanks closed the distance, the Jonin swung to parry, but his movement was restricted, stiffened by the creeping cold. Their swords clashed—Gryphon meeting steel—but the force behind Shanks' blow was overwhelming. The Jonin's weapon was ripped from his hands and sent spinning through the air, clattering uselessly to the ground.
Ice continued to rise, reaching his stomach now. He was caught.
He gritted his teeth. He knew the truth—freeing himself would expose him. Any opening against someone like Shanks wasn't a death sentence—it was overkill.
So he made the only move he could.
He held Shanks off for just a breath longer—long enough.
Because at that moment, a thunderous roar echoed behind them.
Whssshh—clank!
Juzo's Kubikiribōchō came flying through the air, spinning with deadly speed—launched using the Flying Revolving Sword Technique, its mass and momentum like that of a falling tree trunk.
But even with his back turned, Shanks felt it coming.
His Observation Haki had already picked it up.
He didn't need to see it to react.
Juzo's spinning blade roared through the air—a massive, whirling executioner's sword aimed squarely at Shanks. It was a clear ultimatum:
Either abandon the kill... or be killed.
But Juzo had made one critical miscalculation.
He hadn't accounted for Armament Haki.
Beneath his cloak, Shanks' entire torso—from waist to neck—was coated in hardened black Haki. A faint glimpse of black shimmered at his chest.
Shanks didn't hesitate.
He followed through with his slash.
His blade carved cleanly through the immobilized Jonin's neck, severing the head in one decisive motion. The Jonin's body slumped, frozen in ice, as blood spilled across the frost-covered ground.
At that exact moment, Juzo's Kubikiribōchō collided with Shanks' side—slamming into his ribs with bone-crushing force.
But instead of a fatal wound, the sword rebounded off his body with a loud metallic clang. The force was real—it tore a massive gash through Shanks' overcoat and shirt—but when the weapon dropped to the ground, rolling to a stop in the mud, it left behind only cloth torn and flapping.
No blood. No wound.
Then—another shout.
"Bastard!"
Juzo reappeared behind him in a blur, kunai drawn, rage burning in his eyes. He drove it forward toward Shanks' exposed back.
Shanks twisted at the last moment, minimizing the damage. The kunai scraped across his left shoulder—not his back—still managing to cut shallowly through his Haki defense. A thin line of blood appeared, but it was far from serious.
But Shanks hadn't taken the hit for nothing.
He'd baited Juzo in.
With a sudden pivot, Shanks spun on his heel. His sword whipped around with terrifying speed—Gryphon tearing through the space between them.
Juzo's eyes widened—too late.
Shanks' blade passed through Juzo's attacking arm with a clean slice.
Blood sprayed into the air as Juzo's right hand—and the kunai still clutched within it—hit the ground with a dull thud.
Juzo didn't scream.
He didn't even groan.
His face simply twisted in silent agony, jaw clenched, breath shallow. Blood ran freely from the stump where his right arm had once been, pooling at his feet.
Shanks stood before him, calm and composed, his blade steady in his hand. His eyes didn't burn with rage—just clarity. Purpose.
Juzo looked up, grimacing but composed.
"I didn't expect… that an Uzumaki remnant like you would grow this powerful," he said, voice low. "Go ahead. Kill me if you must."
Shanks didn't flinch.
"That's exactly what I intend to do," he replied. "I show no mercy to Kirigakure. Mercy is wasted on those who've never learned it."
He raised his sword, the air thick with the finality of what was about to come.
But just as he began to swing—his instincts screamed.
Something was coming from below.
Without hesitation, Shanks leapt backward, his blade pausing mid-arc. A sudden surge of water erupted where he'd just stood—a silent ambush. A blade sliced up through the earth, but found nothing but air.
Shanks' eyes narrowed as he scanned the battlefield.
That wasn't a random strike.
Then he saw it.
Tomiko.
She was under attack.
Two remaining Kirigakure Jonin had broken away from the main clash and were now bearing down on her. But they weren't aiming to kill—they were trying to capture. Shanks could read it in their patterns, the way they circled her, their strikes controlled, measured, disabling rather than lethal.
They were going for a hostage.
Tomiko was doing everything she could to hold them off, her Sharingan—two tomoe—active, spinning desperately to read their movements. But her breathing was ragged. Her chakra reserves were depleted. She wouldn't last much longer. A few more minutes and her body would collapse—whether from exhaustion or a fatal blow.
Shanks clenched his jaw. He couldn't let that happen.
She might not be a close comrade, but she was good. Brave. And she had followed him when others would've run.
That was enough.
He instantly dismissed the threat that had emerged from below. A quick read of its chakra confirmed it—just a water clone. A distraction, crafted by one of the Jonin now harassing Tomiko.
Smart move, Shanks thought. But not good enough.
He vanished in an instant—red lightning tearing across the battlefield.
A streak of raw speed, heading straight for Tomiko and the two Jonin.
The two Jonin felt it.
That pressure—familiar now. Heavy. Relentless.
Shanks was coming.
A blur of red lightning was already closing in, ripping across the battlefield toward them.
Tomiko, caught in the middle, was faltering. Her knees buckled, and her eyes lost their crimson glow as her Sharingan flickered and vanished. She had nothing left—her chakra reserves completely drained.
She dropped to one knee, gasping for breath.
One of the Jonin's lips curled into a triumphant grin.
"Yes… this is it," he said. "Now we can save ourselves and save Lord Juzo."
He looked toward his partner, excitement surging. But the moment their eyes met, his heart skipped.
The other Jonin—his clone still stationed beside Juzo—wasn't smiling. In fact, he wasn't even moving.
He was staring back with something else in his expression.
Pity.
The excited Jonin's pulse quickened. He knew that look.
"Wait—"
The other Jonin's fingers moved fluidly, forming a seal.
The excited Jonin's eyes widened in realization.
No… not now—
But it was already over.
----
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