Uchiha Souji's breath came out in heavy, uneven bursts. His chest rose and fell violently, but his eyes—dark, burning, and determined—refused to dim.
Even though he stood at the edge of death.
"I'm not afraid of death!" Souji shouted out suddenly.
It was a lie. His heart trembled, fear clawed at his spine, and his body screamed for rest.
But none of that mattered.
If he was going to die, he would die in a way that looked cool.
His legs wobbled, and every breath was like inhaling knives. Blood slid down his waist, warm at first… then disturbingly cold. But Orochimaru noticed something unusual.
Souji's bleeding had slowed.
This wasn't healing—this was muscle control, Souji tightening his abdominal muscles with absolute precision to restrict blood flow.
He was preparing his body for one last attack.
One final moment.
A gamble with death.
"Ho?" Orochimaru chuckled softly, amused. "What a funny child."
He smiled, showing sharp white teeth. Everyone feared death. He feared death. His entire pursuit of immortality existed because of that fear.
To say you were unafraid of death was simply ridiculous.
"Even ants fear death," Orochimaru said as he pointed casually at a nearby mound.
Thousands of ants scurried upward, climbing frantically to avoid danger.
"Even they struggle to live. How can a human not?"
Souji didn't answer. He kept lowering his center of gravity—slowly, carefully, making himself as small as possible, hiding his posture, masking his muscles.
A shinobi preparing to strike.
Then he straightened again.
His voice was hoarse, but steady.
"I may be only seven years old… but I'm already a student of the Academy. I'm already a ninja of Konoha."
He lifted his chin slightly, forcing himself upright even though blood still dripped down his waist.
"I inherited the Will of Fire. Maybe you remember what that means, Orochimaru-senpai."
He took another slow step, steadying his footing.
His eyes briefly drifted to the distant horizon, where the Hokage Rock stood like a guardian over Konoha. He could faintly see the enormous carving of Senju Hashirama, the First Hokage.
"Even if Kakashi found out I'm an Uchiha," Souji continued, "he would still risk his life to save me."
He pointed at his own chest.
"I carry the blood of the Uchiha, yes. But if I had to choose between Senju Hashirama and Uchiha Madara…"
He smiled faintly.
"I would choose Hashirama."
He lowered his gaze again, focusing entirely on Orochimaru.
"If I choose to run… if I choose to surrender out of fear… if I kneel because death is coming…"
"Then what right do I have to call the man who ended the Warring States my idol? What right do I have to face my village in the Pure Land?"
His breathing was ragged now. Every word tasted like iron.
But his spirit didn't waver.
He drew one final deep breath, centering himself.
Time was up.
The speech was finished.
The final strike was ready.
He tightened his grip on the Third Generation Ghost Blade.
There was only a 0.00001% chance of killing Orochimaru.
But if he died trying, at least it would be handsome.
Souji smiled and shouted:
"What I want to show in my final moment is the Will of Fire—passed down, generation after generation—entrusting our hope to the future!"
"It is the soul of Konoha's shinobi!!!"
He pointed his blade at Orochimaru, his voice rising into a roar:
"Senior Orochimaru! This is my final blade—before you take my life!"
"Sky Dragon Flash — First Form!!!"
And Souji vanished.
Not disappeared—moved, so fast the human eye could barely track him.
A streak of red afterimage flickered across the battlefield, a comet-sized blur zipping from right to left.
His left hand nudged the blade just enough to make it slide free. His right hand snapped into place on the hilt instantly—like the blade grew from his arm.
His left leg extended.
His torso leaned in.
His muscles coiled like springs ready to explode.
And then—
The draw.
Lightning-fast.
Precise.
Brilliant.
A streak of silver shot forward, a shining arc cutting through the air.
But then—
CLANG!!!
Sparks erupted violently in every direction.
Orochimaru's Kusanagi Sword blocked the strike—but both his hands trembled. He had not expected such monstrous force from a dying child.
"Hmph." Orochimaru narrowed his golden eyes. "So it's just a Iaido technique."
His voice twisted into a cruel snarl.
"And all that earlier nonsense—'Will of Fire' this, 'soul of the shinobi' that… disgusting!"
His voice cracked like a whip, filled with real anger for the first time.
"It is because of people like you that Konoha rots! Because of fools like you that the world never changes!"
Then he roared:
"If I can change myself—why do I need a future?! I AM THE FUTURE!"
Orochimaru twisted his wrists sharply and pushed with both arms.
Souji's blade was deflected, dragged sideways like a marionette pulled by invisible strings.
The Third Generation Ghost sputtered in panic.
"Kid! Pull me back—pull me back! If you let go now, you're dead!"
But Souji only murmured:
"No… this is what I want."
He didn't resist.
He allowed the sword to be twisted away.
Allowed his body to be spun around.
Allowed his back—the most fatal weakness—to be exposed.
Everything slowed.
Orochimaru raised the Kusanagi Sword high, ready to cleave Souji's spine in half.
The Third Generation Ghost Spirit trembled, unable to watch.
Time stretched.
It felt like the world itself held its breath.
It was as if the gates of hell cracked open, countless hands reaching out to drag Souji down into the deep abyss.
A chilling tug.
And then—
Something strange.
Something… attracting.
The air shivered.
Something was coming.
Something that should not be here.
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