Yukari Uchiha (English)

Chapter 73: No Place for Hatred

"It's about to start. I know where the other Sharingan is," I say to my brother. "Like I said—we'll let him use Izanagi, but we won't give him the chance to finish it. He's going to feel how the jutsu drains his chakra... and that he can't win against us."

Shisui listens intently, his eyes full of focus and pride. Then, he lifts his sword. A fiery glow begins to envelop it, flickering like living embers. "Blazing Flame Dance – Kasenjin no Mai..." he murmurs, almost reverently, and I can feel the familiar rhythm in his stance. I mirror him. My own blade begins to burn—not as fiercely as his, more like flowing embers tinged with icy blue, a reflection of his technique yet clearly my own version of it. I know every motion, every turn of this style. I learned it from him. Back then. Before the fall.

"I'll mirror every one of your attacks," I say calmly, my eyes locked on Danzo. "We won't let him catch his breath."

Danzo gasps awake. His eyes wide, sweat pouring down his brow, his gaze burning with hatred.

Without hesitation, he activates Izanagi. I see the shift in his aura, reality warping to his will—but at a steep cost. One of the many Sharingan implanted in his arm dims and fades. But we know: a single death won't be enough. Not with this jutsu.

Shisui and I launch forward.

He moves in from the left—fluid, fast—his sword a burning streak of resolve and pain. I spring from his blind spot, my blade formed of raw chakra intent. Our movements aren't just an attack—they're a dance, born of memory, of blood.

The first blow lands—a slash through chest and shoulder. Danzo drops. And rises again. Not even a second passes. Reality bends around the death.

We strike again.

This time I leap overhead, slashing down as Shisui drives him low with a sweeping blow. Two attacks. Two deaths. In seconds. But the same eye remains active. The illusion persists.

I see the sweat glisten on Danzo's forehead. Not from the fight— from the focus. The technique is devouring his chakra, eating at his mind. He knows: too many deaths too quickly, and Izanagi will collapse ahead of schedule.

We don't relent.

Shisui spins midair, his sword arcing in a half-circle—an ancient Uchiha form. I lunge again, exploiting a weak dodge to appear behind him and strike with chakra-infused fists. Again he falls. Again he rises. No new eye dims. The illusion hasn't ended yet—but it's tearing him apart.

"How many more times?" I ask, my voice calm. "How long will you keep lying to yourself?"

His answer is hatred—and another assault. We meet it with shadow and flame. No eye, no Izanagi in this world can stop the two of us at once.

The fight has lasted barely two minutes. In that short time, Shisui and I have struck Danzo lethally six times. Each one should've ended it—if not for Izanagi.

Four eyes. Four extinguished lights in the grotesque row embedded in his arm.

Five, maybe six remain. Enough to be dangerous. But not enough to run forever. Our pressure is relentless.

Shisui spins through the air like a spirit of wind, his blade cloaked in flame. I support him with precise ranged ninjutsu: tiny shards of chakra, like needles of concentrated Yūen, forcing Danzo to stay on the defensive.

He doesn't even get a chance to think, let alone plan. Not in our rhythm.

And yet... he's Danzo. He never has only one plan.

Then—my mistake.

I land just a step too close to a spot where I'd overlooked a previously thrown kunai. I realize now—it's been rigged. A tiny, coiled fūin mechanism activates beneath my feet.