Only now did Chiba finally move.
Under the crimson moon, Konoha's elite surged forward like a tide that refused to retreat-bloodshot eyes, ragged breaths, and a momentum born more from desperation than courage. They came as if sheer numbers could drown him, as if charging hard enough would erase the fear clinging to their throats. Chiba didn't even blink. He simply raised a hand, and the cold answered like a blade drawn from its sheath.
Hyōton: Hyōga Jidai/Aisu Eiji ("Ice Age").
The world shuddered.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
It wasn't a simple drop in temperature; it was a collapse. A blinding chill spread outward in an instant, swallowing streets, rooftops, and shattered stone as though winter itself had been unleashed with intent. Buildings frosted over from the inside out. Trees turned glassy, leaves trapped in crystal mid-sway. Even the smallest blossoms-things that should have been crushed beneath chaos-were preserved in perfect, merciless ice, as if nature had been forced into a still-life painting.
The front line never had time to scream. One heartbeat they were charging, the next they were statues-faces frozen in shock, blades suspended mid-swing, bodies sealed in immaculate clarity so clean it felt obscene. Konoha's elite became an exhibition of defeat, each corpse preserved like a warning carved into the battlefield.
Hiruzen Sarutobi and those beside him went rigid.
For most of the night, they had forced themselves to believe the man standing beside Uchiha Itachi was the rumored Uchiha Madara, a calamity wearing a name. That assumption had shaped their every response, every contingency, every ounce of panic. Yet the truth was worse in a different way: they hadn't merely misunderstood the target-they had misidentified the enemy entirely.
Hiruzen stared at the scale of the Ice Release, at the way it didn't simply kill but dominated, and for a rare moment fear flickered across his expression. "T-This… this Ice Release…" His throat tightened as the pieces clicked into place. "Y-You… you're Kirigakure's new Mizukage-Chiba!"
A faint smile touched Chiba's lips, calm and controlled, as if recognition was only a formality. Confronting Konoha had always been inevitable; whether today or tomorrow, their paths were destined to collide. "Hiruzen Sarutobi," he said evenly, "so we finally meet."
Hiruzen's roar tore through the freezing air, rage hot enough to burn his own breath. "Why are you here in Konoha?! Was this your doing-this rebellion?!"
Chiba's smile deepened slightly, almost serene. "Which are you asking about?" he replied, his tone carrying the faintest trace of amusement. "The grudge against the Uchiha… or the insurrection that erupted today?"
For a fraction of a second Hiruzen faltered, because the answer was ugly. The disaster hadn't been a single person's masterpiece. It had unfolded like a chain of failures snapping one after another, and Konoha itself had arranged too many of those links to point the blame cleanly at anyone else.
Chiba didn't wait for Hiruzen to recover. He lifted his hands again, and the Ice Age expanded-quiet, merciless, and absolute. Frost rolled outward like a living tide, swallowing the edges of the battlefield until ruined streets, collapsed roofs, shattered kunai, and spilled blood were all sealed under the same indifferent cold. Corpses from every side were taken as well-Uchiha bodies, ANBU, Root agents, shinobi of the Sarutobi clan, even the Shimura forces-each form locked in crystal-clear ice as though the world had decided to preserve Konoha's humiliation for eternity.
And the wave didn't stop there. It surged toward the reinforcements and the village's leadership, racing toward Hiruzen himself. Everyone present had heard rumors of Chiba's Ice Release, but rumor could never capture the truth: this was not a technique that traded blows. It was a natural disaster shaped by will. Shinobi were swallowed and immobilized mid-step, their bodies stolen from them before they could even complete a hand sign.
Hiruzen's voice snapped into command, sharp with urgency. "Fire Release!" he barked, and his gaze cut through the chaos. "Wind Team-Sarutobi clan-coordinate Wind Release with Fire Release! Now!"
The response erupted at once, like a dam breaking.
Katon: Ryūenka no Jutsu ("Fire Release: Dragon Flame Technique")!
Katon: KaRyūdan no Jutsu ("Fire Release: Fire Dragon Bullet")!
Hiruzen himself unleashed his strongest blaze-Katon: Ryūen Hōka ("Fire Release: Fire Dragon Flame Bomb") and the Sarutobi clan followed, layering disciplined flames until the street became a corridor of roaring heat. Under Shimura Danzō's command, Wind Release specialists fed the inferno, amplifying it into a storm that tore through the freezing air.
Fūton: Daitama Shinkūgyoku ("Wind Release: Vacuum Giant Sphere")!
Fūton: Daitoppa ("Wind Release: Great Breakthrough")!
Fūton: Reppū Mai ("Wind Release: Gale Dance")!
Hundreds of shinobi synchronized fire and wind into a combined onslaught that finally forced the Ice Age to hesitate-if only for a moment. Steam exploded in thick, rolling fog as ice and flame devoured each other, turning the battlefield into a choking veil of white. Even so, the cost was brutal. Many Konoha shinobi never made it back. They froze while the air still burned, their lives extinguished in the narrow, unforgiving space between heat and cold.
Hiruzen and Danzō exchanged a grim look. Both understood the same thing, and neither wanted to admit it: Chiba was not an enemy they could afford to "trade" with. Yet the more terrifying he proved to be, the more urgent it became to erase him-because leaving him alive meant leaving Konoha bleeding.
"Perception Team!" Hiruzen barked. "Lock onto his position immediately!"
"Yes, Lord Hokage!"
But the sensory net returned nothing. Chiba's presence had vanished-cleanly, completely, as if he had never existed at all.
A shinobi rushed forward, trembling. "Report! Lord Hokage-he… he's no longer here!"
"What?!" Hiruzen's fury detonated, sharp enough to cut. "How is that possible?!"
The shinobi swallowed hard, eyes shaking. "And… not only Lord Mizukage Chiba. Uchiha Yashiro, Uchiha Mikoto, and even Uchiha Sasuke-they've vanished as well."
Hiruzen's jaw tightened, anger rising like poison. "What else? Tell me!"
Today had already spiraled beyond control-forces crippled, casualties climbing-yet the Uchiha were still not entirely extinguished. If Chiba had appeared merely to leave behind chaos, then what had he taken?
The sensory ninja's voice cracked. "Lord Hokage… it's not only them. All surviving Uchiha… even the corpses on the battlefield… they're gone."
Hiruzen went silent.
Danzō's expression darkened instantly, shock curdling into something uglier. "What?!" he snapped. "Even the Uchiha corpses are gone?!"
"Yes," the shinobi answered shakily. "Not only the Uchiha. Every body from the earlier clashes has vanished. There's no doubt-Mizukage Chiba took them. Likely… using that freezing ability we witnessed…"
The battlefield-once a screaming clash of ice and flame-fell into an eerie quiet. The emptiness felt wrong. A place that should have been littered with the dead had been cleaned too thoroughly, leaving behind silence that pressed on the ears.
Danzō's rage flared violently. For years he had pursued the annihilation of the Uchiha, not merely out of ideology but because he coveted what ran in their blood-Sharingan eyes, clan legacy, power that could be harvested. And now, in a single night, everything had slipped away like water through a bamboo basket. Years of plotting collapsed into nothing. Nothing gained, nothing left.
Hiruzen stood beside him with a composed face and restrained posture, yet inside him fury churned so violently it felt like it might tear his ribs apart. Every misstep that led to this disaster traced back to Uchiha Itachi, and yet as Hokage he couldn't let that anger show. Even if the sky fell, his face had to remain steady.
A nervous voice broke the silence. "N-No, Lord Hokage… there's still one person remaining."
Hiruzen's gaze snapped over. "Who?"
"I-It's… Uchiha Itachi."
Hiruzen's restraint hardened into something sharp. "Bring him here. Now."
"Yes!"
Moments later, ANBU escorted Uchiha Itachi into view, and only then did the leaders truly see his condition. His body was riddled with wounds, dried blood staining his clothes in ugly streaks, but what made even hardened shinobi stiffen was his face: both eyes were gone, torn out completely, blood still seeping from empty sockets. It was brutal enough to make seasoned killers swallow.
Yet the physical damage paled next to the emptiness behind his expression.
Itachi looked hollowed out-not merely defeated but emptied, like a man whose spirit had been scooped clean and left behind as a shell that still remembered how to stand. In the ruins of his mind, the calm, merciless words repeated like a curse:
Uchiha Itachi, I won't kill you.
You're far more valuable alive than dead.
And far more painful that way.
Itachi understood with sick clarity that the man had spoken truth. The pain consuming him now was absolute, and the worst part was that he couldn't even understand what value he had left.
Danzō stepped forward, voice cold enough to freeze the air all over again. "Uchiha Itachi. Is this the outcome you promised?" His tone sharpened with every sentence. "You claimed you could handle everything alone. And this is the result? The Uchiha still stand, yet Konoha has suffered catastrophic losses! Homura is dead. The Sarutobi clan has lost its acting head. ANBU, Root, Sarutobi, Shimura-countless elite shinobi are dead because of you. Even if we tore you apart piece by piece, it wouldn't begin to repay what you've cost us!"
Hiruzen listened in silence, gaze fixed on Itachi. His anger burned hot, but he crushed it down until it became something heavier, something that sat behind his ribs like a stone. Danzo's words struck true, and that truth was the most unforgivable part.
Itachi lowered his head. The silence stretched long enough to feel like suffocation before his voice finally emerged-hollow, distant, almost unaware of its own sound. "This… this is my failure. I overestimated myself." His shoulders barely moved, but the surrender in his tone was complete. "I no longer have the right to live. If punishment is required… then I accept it."
In his broken state, Hiruzen's continued silence felt heavy but not cruel. The Hokage hadn't shouted. He hadn't condemned him publicly. That restraint-irrationally-felt like mercy.
Danzō let out a cold laugh. "Kill you?" He leaned forward slightly, contempt bare. "If killing you could undo this disaster, I would have done it long ago. But now? Blind. Broken. Useless. You're nothing but a ruined tool." His voice dropped into command. "The only reason you're still breathing is because we need answers. Speak. That man-who exactly is he?"
Itachi understood immediately. Mizukage Chiba.
Only now did he fully grasp that the man who had crushed him and dragged him into this abyss was the newly risen Mizukage-the one whose rise had shaken the shinobi world. He exhaled slowly and recounted everything, piece by piece, as though each word cost him something he no longer possessed.
When he finished, Danzō's expression darkened. "A terrifying individual," he said coldly. "He knew our plans. All of them. Every move we made, every choice-we were dancing in the palm of his hand." His eye narrowed. "He intercepted you precisely so that the rebelling Uchiha would collide with Konoha's response forces, forcing both sides into mutual slaughter. His goal was obvious: bleed Konoha from within. Weaken us as much as possible."
Hiruzen listened, fists clenched inside his sleeves. Of course he could see it. That was what enraged him most-not merely that he'd been fooled, but that Itachi had been used so completely that even his betrayal had become someone else's weapon.
Damn it… Hiruzen thought, bitterness rising. How did I let it reach this point?
Utatane Koharu spoke gravely. "I suspect the three rumors spread earlier were orchestrated by him as well. You all remember-he ended Kirigakure's Bloody Mist era. Rumors say he possesses an almost omniscient ability, always acting one step ahead of everyone."
Danzō's gaze sharpened. "If that's true, he's even more dangerous than we thought." Then his tone turned final, the kind of final that didn't allow argument. "Which is exactly why this isn't over. The remaining Uchiha must be eliminated. Every last one. No exceptions."
Hiruzen hesitated-not out of mercy, but out of habit. Work this filthy had always belonged to Danzō and Root, buried in the shadows, never spoken aloud.
Danzō snorted. "Still pretending, even now? Fine. If you won't dirty your hands, I'll do it."
With that, he led Root toward the Uchiha district. Hiruzen paused only briefly before dispatching ANBU to track Sasuke and the others-not because he believed they could stop Chiba, but because he needed to know where the pieces were moving.
When the area thinned and the noise finally receded, Hiruzen turned to Itachi. Inside him, fury surged-hot, ugly, endless-because this child, this tragedy, this catastrophe had slipped beyond control. Yet his voice remained steady. "You will remain here."
Something tightened in Itachi's chest. In his broken state, the Hokage's restraint still felt like magnanimity.
But before anything else could be said, space twisted.
A vortex of spiraling distortion tore open, bending the air like water drawn into a drain, and a masked man stepped out of the void.
Hiruzen's eyes widened. "You…"
Of course he recognized him-the man who called himself Uchiha Madara, the one tied to the Kyūbi disaster and Minato Namikaze's death. The masked man ignored Hiruzen completely. His gaze fixed only on Itachi.
"Uchiha Itachi," he said, voice flat and inevitable. "You're not finished yet. Don't forget our agreement."
In the next instant, Kamui activated. Both figures vanished into the distortion.
Hiruzen stood frozen, not because he couldn't move, but because the reality was unbearable: everything-every calculation, every sacrifice-had slipped beyond his control. For a man who valued authority above all else, there was no greater fury than watching his world move without him.
…
Elsewhere, Chiba moved through the night toward the Uchiha district with Uchiha Yashiro, Uchiha Mikoto, and the unconscious Uchiha Sasuke. The silence between them was thick enough to taste until Yashiro finally broke it.
"You're Kirigakure's new Mizukage," he said, voice tight with suspicion. "Why did you save us?"
Chiba glanced over and smiled faintly. "Is that how the Uchiha greet their saviors?"
Yashiro's eyes remained cold. "Don't play games. You appearing at a moment like this means only one thing-you wanted to provoke an internal war between the Uchiha and Konoha. To weaken the village." His words came faster as conviction hardened. "Konoha is Sunagakure's ally. A clash with Kirigakure was inevitable. You simply chose to strike first."
Chiba sighed softly, unoffended. "As expected of an Uchiha elder. You see things clearly, Yashiro."
"So you used the Uchiha as tools?" Yashiro's voice sharpened. "Forced us into slaughter for your own goals?!"
Chiba laughed, open and unashamed. "Elder Yashiro, I just praised you-don't become muddle-headed now. Did I create the hatred between the Uchiha and Konoha's higher-ups? Would your clan truly have avoided rebellion without me?"
Yashiro fell silent, because he knew the answer.
Chiba's voice turned calm, almost clinical. "Here's the truth. Without me, every one of you would have died by Uchiha Itachi's hand-not just shinobi, but civilians, elders, women, children. Yes, I wanted to weaken Konoha." He didn't look back as he spoke, as though stating facts on a ledger. "But if I hadn't stopped and crippled Itachi, your end would have been far worse."
He let the choice hang like a blade between them. "So choose. Be slaughtered alone by your own clansman… or fight Konoha and drag them down with you."
Yashiro said nothing.
Because it was the truth.
And compared to being erased by their own blood, this ending-however bitter-was easier to accept. In that moment, Yashiro understood something important about Chiba: the Mizukage was not necessarily a good man. His honesty wasn't kindness; it was confidence, the blunt certainty of someone who didn't need to pretend. Still, the outcome couldn't be denied. Chiba had saved Yashiro. He had saved Mikoto. He had saved Sasuke. There was no room left for argument, only the grim acceptance of a debt that tasted like ash.
Soon, the Uchiha district came into view.
Inside, Hatake Kakashi and the ANBU were already working-clearing debris, organizing survivors, tending to the wounded. Bloodied uniforms, shattered buildings, exhausted shinobi moving on instinct in the aftermath of a night that had broken too many things at once.
The moment Yashiro saw them, something in him snapped. Anger surged so violently it almost tore his voice apart as he shouted across the ruined street:
"Stop. Immediately!"
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