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Hiss!
Itachi let out a muffled groan.
A stream of bright red blood burst into the air, only to evaporate instantly in the intense heat. The smell of iron lingered faintly in the air.
Bang!
Uchiha Haru's kunai came down hard—piercing with deadly precision.
But it struck nothing more than a chunk of wood.
Substitution Jutsu!
Such incredible hand seal speed—astonishing!
Raiga, the original opponent, had stood no chance under Haru's raw physical prowess. He was utterly overwhelmed.
But now he faced Uchiha Itachi—someone far stronger, more skilled.
Even using the same taijutsu, Haru couldn't take him down as easily. Itachi had managed to activate a substitution just in time. Though wounded, he survived.
That speed—it might even be beyond what Haru could match right now.
But in that same moment, behind Haru—
A silent figure emerged in midair.
A monstrous form, half-human, half-serpent.
Orochimaru!
His jaw unhinged grotesquely, and he lunged with the Kusanagi Sword held in his mouth, aimed straight at Haru!
At that instant, Haru had just driven his kunai into Itachi's substitution and was still suspended mid-air.
He had no footing—no leverage to dodge. Even if he sensed something wrong, there was nowhere to escape.
Orochimaru's jaws snapped shut with brutal force. The Kusanagi Sword and razor-sharp fangs simultaneously pierced Haru's shoulder.
Bright blood sprayed outward.
Haru's body went rigid—completely still.
He'd been stabbed!
Orochimaru opened his mouth slowly, licking the blood from his lips with a forked tongue. His eyes gleamed with feverish delight.
It was done.
The wound wasn't fatal—he had been careful not to kill Haru.
After all, he needed this perfect vessel.
But there was no strength left in Haru to resist. That much, he was certain.
There was no shinobi in this world who could walk away from that kind of hit unscathed.
Itachi reappeared beside him, cradling his injured left arm. He kept his distance from Orochimaru.
He didn't trust him.
Especially not now—after an intense fight with Uchiha Haru that had left him weakened and bleeding.
If Orochimaru turned against him now, the consequences could be disastrous.
"He's already Kage-level with just taijutsu… and he's awakened the Mangekyō Sharingan as well."
"Uchiha Haru… really never disappoints."
Orochimaru's voice was layered with amusement, arrogance, and obsession.
There was no denying Haru's power. He was already at Kage level—maybe even beyond. Perhaps stronger than Orochimaru himself.
But so what?
Even someone that strong had fallen into his hands.
Itachi exhaled slowly, finally allowing himself a breath of relief.
Haru was terrifyingly powerful.
Even if he hated to admit it, he had no choice.
If Orochimaru hadn't shown up, he might have been defeated entirely in just a few minutes.
Even in peak condition, he wasn't confident he could take Haru down.
For the first time in his life—born and hailed as a prodigy—Itachi tasted bitter defeat.
But luckily, it was over.
Or was it?
Something wasn't right.
Itachi's Mangekyō Sharingan lit up, gleaming crimson. He scanned the surroundings sharply.
Orochimaru stiffened, becoming suddenly alert.
In front of them—where Haru's body had fallen—there was… nothing.
No blood. No corpse. Nothing at all.
It had vanished.
And neither of them had noticed it disappear.
A terrifying realization struck them both at once.
Haru wasn't dead.
They were certain Orochimaru had landed a clean hit—one that should've left him incapacitated.
But this unease… this ominous feeling…
"Hehehe…"
To the side, a flicker of fire revealed a silhouette.
A pair of crimson eyes glowed in the shadows—Mangekyō Sharingan.
Uchiha Haru!
Orochimaru's expression twisted, a mix of shock and growing dread.
The crimson light in Itachi's eyes flared brighter.
There was no mistaking it—Haru had been hit.
But now he was completely unharmed.
That could only mean one thing.
A forbidden Uchiha jutsu.
"Izanagi?"
Itachi spoke the name in a low, cautious voice.
Izanagi.
A technique born from the Sage of Six Paths' Creation of All Things—an ultimate genjutsu that rewrites reality.
For the duration of the jutsu, any injury, even death itself, is simply undone. Converted into an illusion.
And the caster lives on.
What Haru had just done—this miraculous recovery—could only be explained by Izanagi.
But something didn't add up.
"No," Itachi muttered, eyes narrowing. "That's not Izanagi."
He began piecing it together.
"The reason Izanagi is forbidden isn't just because it rewrites reality—it's because the price is permanent blindness in the eye that casts it."
"Your eyes… they're still perfectly intact."
"Unless…"
Itachi paused, stunned.
"Unless your Mangekyō Sharingan's unique ability is Izanagi itself."
His expression shifted for the first time—true surprise etched into his face.
This was no ordinary Sharingan technique.
It was perfection.
Regular Uchiha clan members paid a steep price to use Izanagi: the loss of an eye.
But Haru… he had used it with nothing more than chakra and pupil power.
No permanent damage.
This changed everything.
Uchiha Haru already possessed monstrous taijutsu and a Mangekyō Sharingan. He had been hard enough to fight before.
Their only chance had been a sneak attack—a lucky blow.
But now?
Now he had Izanagi.
He could recover from any injury—no matter how fatal—as if it never happened.
How could anyone fight that?
Haru's expression was calm.
He had recognized the technique instantly.
And deduced just as quickly that this was his own Mangekyō Sharingan's innate ability.
Itachi truly was sharp.
But that only excited him more.
Itachi was spent, exhausted from their earlier battle.
He wasn't a threat anymore.
Orochimaru, though… was different.
Their last encounter hadn't even been a real fight—just a test, a fleeting exchange.
But now Haru could finally go all out.
He stepped forward slowly, walking straight toward the two of them.
Alone—facing a Mangekyō Sharingan wielder and one of the Three Legendary Sannin.
But he looked utterly composed.
Eager, even.
In contrast, Itachi and Orochimaru looked tense.
Alert.
Like they were staring down something truly horrifying.
Then—a vortex of space-time swirled into existence around them.
The distorted spiral wrapped around Orochimaru and Itachi and carried them away in an instant.
When they reappeared, they were standing on a distant cliffside.
And they weren't alone.
The masked man was with them.
Now three stood together—watching from afar.
"Not coming out?" the masked man muttered darkly.
"This kid's not just our problem, you know."
The wind howled through the scorched battlefield.
Flames crackled, still smoldering.
No response came.
Silence.
The masked man gave a cold snort.
"Tch. Let's go."
He had already slaughtered the Uchiha Clan before coming here.
Uchiha Haru was the only one left.
And he had what he came for.
If the rest of Konoha didn't care—then neither did he.
The vortex spiraled open once more.
And they vanished.
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