The slash was aimed straight at Shukaku's head.
The Tailed Beast barely managed to tilt his head at the last second, but he couldn't fully evade the devastating blow. The massive blade of Susanoo's sword carved a gaping wound from Shukaku's thick neck to his burly shoulder. His head lolled grotesquely to the side, nearly severed. Blood and chakra spewed like a geyser, but the momentum of the slash didn't end there. The energy-infused arc of destruction soared through the air, cleaving a distant mountain in two before finally dissipating into flickering chakra.
With a thunderous crash, Shukaku's colossal body slammed into the ground. The force sent a shockwave of sand and stone across the battlefield, momentarily obscuring everything in a thick cloud of dust.
And then—he began to unravel.
Chunks of his body dissolved into sand, the chakra binding his form together unraveling rapidly. He had only just been unsealed, not yet even given the chance to exact vengeance or destruction. And now, defeated. Silenced.
His massive form trembled, eyes dimming as he fixed one last hateful, haunting gaze at Akira. There was no roar of defiance, no howl of anger—just a heavy silence. A look that screamed, I will remember you. I will return.
And then he was gone. A mountain of sand took his place, unmoving and silent.
As the dust settled, the remains of the sand mountain shifted, revealing the dying figure of Bunpuku beneath. Though Akira's slash had not directly struck him, the connection between Jinchuriki and Tailed Beast ensured he shared in the agony. Bunpuku's life-force waned rapidly. His body was already frail from old age, but now he lay limp, crushed by the backlash of chakra feedback.
Earlier, Shukaku had attempted to detonate a Tailed Beast Ball. But Akira, wielding the power of the Eclipse greatsword, had absorbed nearly half the chakra forming it. That, combined with chakra stolen from Shukaku's severed claw and tail, had been unleashed in one cataclysmic blow.
The result had been nothing short of spectacular.
Still, Shukaku wasn't entirely destroyed. Not truly. The Tailed Beasts, after all, weren't so easily erased.
Akira exhaled deeply, suppressing a satisfied grin. The Susanoo surrounding him was visibly damaged, scorched from the residue of the Tailed Beast Ball. He slowly dismissed it, its armor melting away like falling ash, and gently floated to the earth below.
Though his chakra reserves remained high—replenished by the battle's unique nature—Akira fell to one knee and let out a few ragged breaths, feigning exhaustion. He needed to sell the illusion. To defeat a Tailed Beast so utterly without showing strain would raise too many questions.
He knew Danzo. He knew how the elders operated. If anyone caught wind that Akira's Mangekyo Sharingan had evolved into the Eternal Mangekyo, they would never leave him alone.
Let them think it was a fluke. A miracle. A cost-heavy, desperate attack. That would buy him time.
Across the battlefield, silence reigned. Then came the roar of cheers.
Konoha's shinobi, stunned at first, now shouted with joy. They had witnessed a miracle. One of their own had felled the monster from the Sand—the One-Tail. Even the most jaded among them, those who had seen the horrors of war, couldn't help but marvel.
But it wasn't only the leaf shinobi who were stunned.
The Sand Village ninjas were frozen in disbelief. Many had seen Shukaku rampage through their village in the past. They remembered how the Kazekage himself, with dozens of elite ninjas, had barely managed to suppress the beast. But now?
A single warrior had defeated him.
And not just any warrior. A boy.
The higher-ups from both villages—Sannin and Kage alike—gawked in disbelief. Since the days of Hashirama Senju and Madara Uchiha, no single person had ever stood alone against a Tailed Beast and emerged victorious. But now they had seen it.
And the one who made them believe in legends again was Akira.
The Third Hokage, ever the tactician, recovered first. While others stood stunned, he took swift action. He swung his Adamantine Staff with practiced precision, slamming it into the distracted Fourth Kazekage.
Caught off-guard, the Kazekage was hurled back, coughing blood, barely able to stay kneeling. The Third did not press the attack. There was no sense in killing a Kage now. A war could end here.
Chiyo, seeing her Kazekage injured, broke away from her fight with Orochimaru to aid him. Ebizo and Jiraiya, now free, joined their respective sides. The scene reverted to a tense 3-on-3 standoff—but the energy had shifted.
Konoha held the upper hand.
The Kazekage coughed, wheezing, blood soaking into his robes. He looked around at his depleted forces, his exhausted allies, and the smiling shinobi of Konoha.
He looked to the mountain of sand where Shukaku had once stood.
Defeat was no longer a possibility. It was a certainty.
The Third Hokage stepped forward and, with a calm yet commanding voice, offered peace:
"Kazekage-dono, there is no longer a point to this fight. I urge you to withdraw your forces. Let us end this war here. Sand Village and Konoha have already lost too much. But together, we may stand stronger against the enemies beyond."
The Kazekage lowered his head in shame but nodded. There was no pride in stubbornness when your people would die for it.
"We accept Konoha's terms. We will discuss the alliance soon."
And just like that, the war between the Land of Fire and the Land of Wind ended.
One by one, the Sand shinobi surrendered, dropping their weapons, collapsing with exhaustion. Konoha's forces rounded them up, not as enemies, but as future allies.
Meanwhile, Akira—still disguised as the mysterious Uchiha Kawa—remained kneeling, letting blood and tears drip from his Mangekyo as if he had pushed himself to the limit.
He didn't flee. That would arouse too much suspicion. Instead, he waited for the inevitable.
The Third Hokage, accompanied by Jiraiya and Orochimaru, approached, curiosity gleaming in their eyes.
"Who are you, young man?" Hiruzen asked.
Akira looked up, panting. Behind the fatigue, behind the crimson glow of the Sharingan, a new legend was just beginning to rise.
Using an incomplete Susanoo was effortless for Akira. It spared his eyes the devastating toll that came with its full manifestation. There was no bleeding, no signs of agony—just the cold, unshakable calm of someone in complete control. But appearances could be deceiving.
To feign the illusion of strain, Akira deliberately channeled a surge of chakra into his ocular meridians. The pressure throbbed behind his eyes, a searing force he welcomed. A calculated pain, just enough to rupture the vessels and trick the unknowing into believing his power was waning. A thin thread of blood trickled down his cheek.
The Third Hokage watched this man with a mixture of awe and dread. To defeat a Tailed Beast single-handedly—such a feat was nearly mythic. Akira bore the unmistakable traits of a Mangekyo Sharingan user, a prodigy of the Uchiha Clan. Yet, the Hokage found his name lost among the countless shinobi he'd governed.
As the trio approached, the old Hokage drew close enough to finally recognize the man beneath the armor of chakra. Recognition sparked.
"Uchiha Kawa..." the Third Hokage murmured inwardly. "I've seen you before, but why do I recall so little?"
Outwardly, he offered the warmth of a seasoned diplomat.
"To defeat Shukaku alone... such power should not have gone unnoticed," the Hokage said, voice steady, yet carefully measured. "It seems I have failed in my duty to know the strength of every shinobi under my charge. You are from the Uchiha Clan, are you not? Tell me your name."
Akira, still playing the role of Uchiha Kawa, stood slowly. He breathed in through clenched teeth, a feigned exhaustion curling across his frame.
He didn't answer. His eyes—those slowly rotating Mangekyo—swept across the three elite shinobi with a distant disdain. Then, with casual elegance, he tilted his head back to gaze at the sky, lips pressed into an aloof smirk.
It was a silent dismissal. A declaration: You are not worthy of my words.
The Third Hokage's smile faltered, the crack subtle but telling.
Before he could respond, Orochimaru stepped forward, his snake-like eyes narrowed.
"You are Uchiha Kawa, aren't you? You vanished years ago," he said, the edges of his voice curling with suspicion and curiosity. "Were you not presumed dead? And if you live, why did you not return to the village? Have you chosen defection instead?"
The accusation hung in the air like a guillotine.
The Third Hokage's brow furrowed. Uchiha Kawa had indeed been one of many faces that blurred together, known more for his anonymity than any legendary deed. His extended absence, void of reports or messages, could easily imply betrayal. But if he meant to defect, why return in the midst of a war?
The Hokage's voice remained level. "So you are Uchiha Kawa. Were you caught in something you could not escape from? Were you injured, hiding... waiting to return? Or do you come now for other reasons?"
Still, Akira said nothing. Only the faintest sneer betrayed his thoughts.
Then, without warning, a pale hand shot forward—Orochimaru's. He struck with the precision of a serpent, aimed not to kill but to take. To rip the Mangekyo from Akira's skull.
"What are you doing, Orochimaru?!" the Third Hokage barked, stunned.
"You can't see it, can you, teacher?" Orochimaru hissed, his arm stretching unnaturally. "This man has no loyalty. His power—those eyes—aren't for the benefit of Konoha. He came here for something else. We should end this farce now."
Indeed, Orochimaru's curiosity had twisted into obsession. The technique Akira used, the power that could casually suppress a Tailed Beast, intrigued him beyond restraint. And now, seeing Akira's injuries were faked, his greed ignited.
Akira, unmoving, let Orochimaru close in.
But as Orochimaru's hand approached, Akira's Mangekyo shimmered. A ripple of space, silent and sharp, pulsed outward.
Orochimaru's smirk vanished. In the next instant, his chest convulsed as an invisible force slammed into him. Blood sprayed from his lips as he was hurled backwards, crashing into the sand with bone-crunching force.
"Orochimaru!" Jiraiya called out, alarmed.
He stepped forward instinctively, prepared to act, but before he could even make a move—Akira looked at him.
Just one glance.
The rotating Mangekyo flared.
Jiraiya's body twisted mid-stride, slammed backward by the same mysterious force. Dust spiraled as he tumbled through the battlefield, coughing as he rose again, stunned.
Two Sannin, incapacitated without Akira even lifting a hand.
The Third Hokage's breath hitched. His mind raced. What technique is this? What jutsu could do this silently, invisibly?
It was no ordinary jutsu. It was the Phantom Body—an extension of Akira's Mangekyo Sharingan through Yin-Yang Release. The invisible avatar, undetectable to all but the most sensitive eye or sensor, struck like a ghost from a different plane.
The strikes were not fatal—Akira had held back. But the message was unmistakable: he could have killed them.
Orochimaru and Jiraiya now stood at the Hokage's side again, breathing heavily, wary. Gone was their overconfidence. Now, there was only fear and awe.
The Third Hokage took a cautious step forward, voice tense. "Uchiha Kawa... you disappeared for years. Now you reappear with unfathomable power and no explanation. What are we to think? Are you a threat to Konoha? Or are you its savior?"
Akira's lips curled into a dark smile. Then, he laughed—a sharp, mocking laugh that echoed across the silent battlefield.
"You attack me..." he said, the laughter fading into a low, cold rasp. "You try to rip my eyes from my skull like a thief in the night, and then you demand answers?"
He pointed at them with a steady, contemptuous hand.
"You call yourselves protectors. Leaders. Yet you are nothing but opportunists—afraid of power you cannot control. You attack first, then drape yourselves in the banners of justice."
His gaze fell on the Third Hokage.
"You want to know why I returned? Not for Konoha. Not for any village. I came for reasons beyond you. And if you dare to threaten me again..."
The Susanoo flared behind him like a vengeful deity.
"...you'll learn that Shukaku was just a taste."
The three Konoha legends stood frozen, as the winds of the desert howled around them.
And above, the sky watched in silence.