The waterfall thundered down the cliffside, echoing across the coastline.
Jūzō Biwa poked his head over the edge, then withdrew, shaking his head at the group behind him. "Jumping from such a height… he should be dead."
Suikazan Fuguki frowned, Samehada resting on his shoulder. "The Third Mizukage requested that the body be recovered. Now like this, we can't even report back properly."
Kushimaru Kuriarare brandished Nuibari and let out a sinister laugh. "If you care so much about Mizukage's orders, then stop whining and go retrieve it. The estuary is close, the water's chaotic. Any delay, and it might even wash into the Land of Water. I suggest jumping in directly—it's more convenient."
"You…"
"Enough," Jūzō interrupted sharply, silencing both. "I'll report this to the Mizukage. Move out now."
Fuguki grunted and stepped ahead, Samehada still resting casually on his shoulder.
Jūzō slowed his pace deliberately, distancing himself from the others. Quietly, he muttered, "There's no need to argue for my sake. If he reports this back to Mizukage, it won't end well for either of us."
Kushimaru's tone was flat. "Do I fear him?"
"Before, no. But now… caution is required."
A moment of silence passed before Kushimaru asked, "Even you are afraid of the Mizukage?"
"Of course," Jūzō replied bitterly. "Killing fifty ninja at once… an event like that leaves a mark in any village. If this had happened a few years ago, could you have believed it?"
"Weren't you expecting bloodshed?"
"Perhaps. But not like this. The Third Mizukage is ruthless, decisive… leaving no margin for error. I am afraid…" Jūzō glanced at the shadows of his companions in the distance. "One day, it might be our turn."
"Impossible," Kushimaru said with disbelief. "You were once Mizukage's guard. Now you are captain of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen. He trusts you."
Jūzō shook his head. "That was the past. Now he feels like a stranger. Once, he was gentle… Can a person truly change so much?"
Kushimaru was silent. "No one stays the same forever."
"Exactly, and such change chills the heart. The village feels… unfamiliar, does it not?"
"Do you want to leave the village?"
Jūzō said nothing. In the past, such a question would have been impossible to ask. Now, it felt… natural.
He touched the Kubikiribōchō strapped to his back.
It was still, chilled to the bone.
The feeling was shared far away. In Konoha, Uchiha Yama felt the same deep unease.
Fugaku, who had kept in contact through the summoning rat, suddenly disappeared from all channels one day in May.
A shiver ran through Uchiha Yama's body.
His intuition screamed that something had happened.
The Land of Rainbows was too distant for him to investigate personally, and all he could do was send confidants.
By October, the news arrived.
The report was devastating.
The young clan head had fallen in battle.
The intelligence scroll opened with grim statistics: Fugaku's death probability was ninety-nine percent, his survival almost impossible.
Detailed witness accounts followed: the successful assassination of Imu, the killing of Yamaki, the pursuit by the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist, and their eventual withdrawal unharmed.
And then… Fugaku vanished entirely.
Uchiha Yama's hand trembled as he gripped the scroll. His face contorted with cold fury. "The Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist… they actually…"
His knuckles whitened as he squeezed the armrests of his chair, blood draining from his fingertips. His eyes stayed locked on the scroll, silent for long moments.
He did not know who to direct his anger toward.
Perhaps he needed answers, but no one could provide them.
No one could explain why the Seven Ninja Swordsmen had appeared in the Land of Rainbows without warning.
He had thought himself accustomed to life and death, but in this moment, Uchiha Yama felt a stone pressing on his chest. Breathing became difficult.
It hurt so much.
Had he insisted that Fugaku take a few Jonin with him, perhaps this would not have happened.
But regrets were useless. His son was dead.
The heir to lead the Uchiha Clan, gone.
Uchiha Yama's mind flashed to the memory of Fugaku's birth. It had been a cold snowy night, the infant's pink skin warm in his arms. The little boy had slept peacefully, untouched by the cruelty of the world.
If only that moment could have lasted forever.
He closed his eyes, but tears fell freely.
"A person will die someday, in one way or another. For a ninja, death can come at any second," he had once told Fugaku.
Now, he wanted to scream: "Bullshit!"
Uchiha Yama's mind turned to revenge.
The village could not start a war for his son. Hiruzen Sarutobi would never allow it.
But he did not care.
His son was dead, and he would make the responsible parties pay.
Even Konoha could not escape his wrath. The Hidden Mist had acted too decisively; intelligence had been flawless.
"Then everyone shall share in his fate," Yama muttered, voice low and menacing. "Konoha or the Hidden Mist, it matters not."
He had spent the night in mourning, sitting motionless, the candlelight casting shadows across his features.
When he finally opened his eyes, they were transformed.
His pupils displayed different patterns.
"Could this… be the Mangekyo Sharingan?!"
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Just finished a Presentation, and I low-keyinely think I flopped it 😭