Dusk settled over the coastline.
In the coastal region of the Land of Rainbows, an endless forest stretched toward the horizon, its canopy darkening as daylight faded.
A single figure tore through the trees.
Branches snapped, leaves scattered, and the sound of rapid footsteps echoed as the figure leapt across ravines and streams without slowing.
Uchiha Fugaku.
He had been running for nearly an hour.
The roar of falling water grew louder ahead. When the cliff edge finally came into view, Fugaku stumbled forward and collapsed onto a jagged rock, chest heaving as he struggled to breathe.
He was completely exhausted.
For a full hour, he had pushed his body beyond its limits, burning chakra at maximum output in a forced march. This was the fastest speed he could maintain, and even that was no longer sustainable.
"Those bastards…" Fugaku muttered hoarsely. "If I make it back alive, I will wipe Kirigakure off the map."
The curse faded into a long, bitter sigh.
In the world of shinobi, killing a pursuer after completing a mission and walking away cleanly was considered the pinnacle of assassination. That belief had driven him to turn back and eliminate Yamaki after dealing with Imu.
It was not that escape had been impossible. He simply believed that as the young clan head of the Uchiha, his mission deserved a flawless conclusion.
And it had been flawless.
If not for the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist, the mission would have earned the highest possible evaluation.
But there were no what‑ifs.
So he ran.
He ran without dignity, without restraint, clinging to survival.
From time to time, he scattered explosive tags behind him, detonating them to slow his pursuers.
It made no difference.
The ninja rat tracked him unerringly, pointing out his position again and again while the Seven Ninja Swordsmen followed at a measured pace.
At times, Fugaku wondered if they were deliberately prolonging the chase, savoring it like predators tormenting prey.
Another explosion echoed behind him.
He did not look back.
Instead, he forced his aching legs to move again.
This time, the pressure shifted.
The pursuers lost their patience.
Their chakra surged, and in an instant, the distance closed rapidly.
A flash of white light shot toward him.
Fugaku twisted sharply, narrowly avoiding the strike.
But Nuibari followed, its wire‑bound blade sweeping in a wide arc.
His expression tightened. He tried to change direction again, but fatigue slowed him by a fraction of a second. The blade grazed his right shoulder, tearing flesh and drawing blood.
"Run all you want," a voice sneered.
Kushimaru Kuriarare was already upon him, yanked forward by Nuibari's wire. He reached out to seize Fugaku.
Fugaku's Three‑Tomoed Sharingan spun violently. Anticipating the movement, he slashed his kunai toward Kushimaru's arm.
Kushimaru withdrew instantly and countered with a sharp kick aimed at Fugaku's ribs.
The kunai missed.
Fugaku twisted in mid‑air, shifting his balance and stepping onto Kushimaru's thigh. His knee bent like a compressed spring, and he flipped backward, borrowing momentum to escape, his movement light and fleeting.
"You think you are leaving?"
Suikazan Fuguki appeared directly in Fugaku's landing path.
The bandage‑wrapped greatsword in his hands radiated menace.
Fugaku did not hesitate. He thrust his kunai forward with everything he had left.
There was no clash of steel.
The greatsword writhed like a living creature, expanding in an instant. Jagged spikes erupted from its surface and impaled Fugaku's right hand.
Pain exploded through his arm.
He tried to release his grip, but the sword's flesh‑like surface split open, revealing a mouth lined with teeth.
Samehada bit down.
With a sickening crunch, Fugaku's entire arm was torn away.
For a heartbeat, his mind went blank.
Then the pain arrived in full force.
Blood sprayed as Fugaku staggered back, eyes wide, hatred burning as he locked eyes with Suikazan Fuguki.
Fuguki paid him no mind, stroking Samehada with casual familiarity.
The sword shuddered, displeased.
Moments later, it spat out the half‑chewed arm, letting it tumble into the dirt.
"It seems Samehada does not like your chakra," Fuguki said, smiling faintly.
Fugaku's breath hitched.
Only then did he realize the truth.
His chakra was gone.
Completely drained.
What now?
Was this the end?
He stood before the waterfall, blood pouring from his wound, and turned to face the Seven Ninja Swordsmen as they closed in.
"What?" Jūzō Biwa said coldly. "Given up?"
Fugaku did not answer.
The pain was unbearable. Even breathing required effort.
Losing an arm was already a death sentence for a shinobi. Losing all chakra made resistance impossible.
In this state, he could not flee.
He could not fight.
He could not even form the hand seals for Izanagi.
Am I really going to die?
No.
I cannot accept this.
I have not become Hokage.
I have not led the Uchiha to their rightful place.
I cannot die here.
His scream echoed only within his heart.
Someone… anyone…
Save me.
The plea vanished into despair.
Jūzō continued forward.
Fugaku smiled bitterly.
"Uchiha…" he whispered.
Then he stepped backward and leapt.
His body fell into the roaring waterfall, plunging headlong into the void below.
The world above faded rapidly.
Mist swallowed him.
Then the whirlpool seized him.
Cold.
Pain.
His body slammed against rocks as the current dragged him down. His lungs burned as air ran out. In the violent river, breathing was impossible.
Death pressed in.
In his final moments, fragments of memory surfaced.
Konohagakure.
His father.
His clan.
And himself, sitting beneath the sun with Hayashi, drinking quietly.
The vision shattered.
Light flared.
Then darkness consumed everything.
Uchiha Fugaku was gone.