From the heart of Uzushiogakure, deep within the sealed chamber of the Uzumaki Clan's Forbidden Sanctuary, Genryu Uzumaki sat upon his throne—a towering construct of spiraling red chakra, its base formed from ancient sealing scripts that pulsed with life.
His golden-red eyes stared unblinking at the battlefield, seeing everything, for the seals he had placed upon his kin connected them all—their pain, their struggles, their victories, their deaths.
And now…
He watched as everything he had built crumbled before him.
The deaths pierced into him like a thousand knives, each one another soul lost for the dream he had sworn to achieve.
The Green King, Nagare, fighting in desperation against the Otsutsuki-enhanced Kiba and Chōji.
The Blue King, Reisi, fallen—his power stripped, barely clinging to life.
The Gold King, Daikaku, erased from existence by Luffy's impossible reality-warping attack.
The Red King, Anna, fighting on in blind rage, barely a child, consumed by destruction.
And worst of all…
Toshiro, his most trusted commander, struggling against Kurenai and Anko, the elder's once unshakable will now wavering.
He had thought they would win.
The seals, the generations of training, the hatred that had fueled them for decades—he had believed it would be enough.
But he had been wrong.
"No…" He exhaled sharply, his fists clenching so tightly that blood dripped from his palms.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go.
This wasn't how his revenge was supposed to end.
Then, he saw Hotaru.
His daughter, the one he had poured his hopes into, the one who had sworn to bring their family justice, the one who had trained harder than anyone.
And she was losing.
No, she wasn't just losing—she was breaking.
The flames of the Primordial Phoenix devoured her body, and her screams shook the heavens.
"I AM NOT A FOLLOWER!"
Her voice ripped through his soul, filled with agony, with rage, with doubt.
And in that moment, Genryu felt something unfamiliar.
Fear.
Not fear for himself.
Not fear for the war.
Not even fear of losing.
Fear for her.
His little girl.
For all his hatred, for all his righteous fury, for all his unshakable resolve, Hotaru was still his daughter.
The only thing left of his wife, the one person he had sworn to protect above all else.
And now, because of his war, she was drowning in her own power, burning away her very existence.
She would die if this continued.
Genryu's body trembled as he stood from his throne, his chakra surging violently, the walls of his chamber cracking from the sheer weight of his emotions.
He had set this war in motion.
He had given his people a purpose beyond their suffering.
He had taught Hotaru that power was the only path to survival.
And now…
Was he going to lose her because of it?
His hatred for Kumo and Iwa had been the defining force of his existence for decades.
He had watched them burn his homeland.
He had seen his family slaughtered like animals.
He had spent his entire life preparing for this war—the war that would make the Uzumaki unbreakable, the war that would ensure they were never victims again.
And yet…
And yet…
What had it cost him?
His hands trembled.
He could still feel the seals of his warriors, the pulse of the thousands of Uzumaki still fighting.
If he acted now, if he poured everything into the network, he could tip the scales back in their favor.
He could force a final stand.
He could still win.
But…
Hotaru would die.
His daughter, his pride, his flesh and blood—she would burn herself out, consumed by the very power he had encouraged her to wield.
And in that moment, Genryu Uzumaki, the great leader of the Uzumaki, the man who had dedicated his life to revenge, hesitated.
And for the first time in his life, he didn't know what to do.
The battlefield, once a hellish storm of destruction, fell into a moment of unnatural silence. The air, thick with the scent of burning earth and blood, stood still as if holding its breath.
And then, the sky shattered.
A crack formed in reality itself, spiraling outwards in jagged lines of crystalline blue light, as something not of this world tore through the fabric of existence.
A figure descended, its form shifting between humanoid and something far beyond comprehension. Its sleek, biomechanical body radiated an eerie, cosmic energy, its piercing, glowing red eye scanning the battlefield with an alien intelligence.
Deoxys had arrived.
Deoxys had spent years wandering through the endless void of space, surviving the relentless cosmic storms and absorbing the unknown energies of the universe. It had been sent to one of Kaguya's dimensions, a world of endless desert by Naruto.
Now, it had been summoned by the one person who had given it purpose—Toneri.
And as its feet touched the battlefield, everything reacted.
The very ground crystallized, expanding outward in sharp, unnatural formations. The energy of the world shuddered, as if instinctively rejecting its presence. The weaker warriors, both shinobi and Uzumaki, collapsed, their bodies unable to handle the overwhelming force of an entity that should not exist within this realm.
Even the Kings froze.
For the first time, the battle was not about them.
This was something alien.
Something that reminded them of the true threats that lurked beyond the stars.
In the midst of this chaos, another light descended.
From the sky, a figure clad in white, his celestial robes glowing under the moon's radiance, appeared beside Hinata. His long silver hair shimmered, and his pale blue eyes, touched by the Tenseigan's divine power, gazed at her with quiet determination.
"Hinata," Toneri's voice was calm, but firm. "I will stand beside you."
The moment he arrived, Hotaru's flames burned brighter, reacting violently to his presence.
"You..." Hotaru hissed, her body barely holding itself together, her mind split between her rage and the unbearable heat of the Phoenix's power.
Toneri ignored her, focusing only on Hinata. "We must end this now."
Hinata, gripping her golden bow, nodded. "Together."
And with that, the battle resumed.
Far away, standing in the rebuilt Uzushiogakure, Genryu Uzumaki watched everything unfold.
He had seen it all.
The unstoppable might of the Otsutsuki warriors.
His own daughter, burning herself alive in an impossible struggle.
And now, something from beyond this world had arrived.
He had lost.
Not just the war, but everything he had believed in.
His hatred, his righteous fury, his unshakable will to avenge his fallen clan—none of it had given him victory.
Only more suffering.
And now, his daughter would die for it.
No more.
With a deep breath, he stretched his hands outward, his chakra surging one last time as he activated the Grand Sealing Network—but not for war.
This time, he commanded his people to stop.
Across the battlefield, as warriors clashed, a massive holographic projection appeared in the sky.
It was Genryu Uzumaki, the Clan Head.
His golden-red eyes carried a weight no one had ever seen before—not anger, not vengeance, but tiredness. A weariness that came from decades of carrying hatred too heavy for one man to bear.
His voice echoed across the world, transmitted through the very seals that bound his people together.
"Shinobi of the Hidden Villages… I am Genryu Uzumaki."
"I am the Clan Head of the Uzumaki… and I surrender myself to your justice."
"Let us stop this senseless violence."
The battlefield stood still.
On one side, the Uzumaki warriors, conditioned for war, stood frozen, their very chakra bound to Genryu's will. They had followed him into hell itself, and now he had ordered them to stop.
On the other side, the Shinobi Alliance, battered and bloodied, held their breath.
One word from Kurenai, the acting commander, and they would continue.
One word, and the Uzumaki would be slaughtered.
But she did not give that word.
She simply stared at Genryu's hologram, her heart pounding, her mind reeling.
And then…
She raised her hand.
"All forces, stand down."
It was over.
The war had ended.
The war was over.
The battlefield, once a stage for immortals and kings to clash, was now nothing more than a graveyard of shattered dreams and broken bodies.
The survivors, shinobi and Uzumaki alike, stood in silence, staring at the remnants of what had once been their comrades, their homes, their hopes. Some searched for the fallen, hands trembling as they lifted debris, hoping—praying—for a miracle. Others simply sat in the dirt, too drained to move, their minds too numb to process what they had done and what had been taken from them.
For some, the war had ended.
For others, it would never truly end.
And now, the leaders of the world gathered, sitting in judgment over those who had started it all.
The great hall of the Alliance's war council was once a place where strategies were crafted and alliances were forged. Now, it was a courtroom, where justice—or vengeance—would be served.
The accused stood in the center of the chamber, bound by seals so powerful that even the greatest among them could not break free. Genryu Uzumaki, Hotaru Uzumaki, and the Silver King—the ones who had led the Uzumaki into war, the ones whose decisions had brought ruin upon the world—stood in silence, awaiting their fate.
Seated above them, acting as their judges, were the leaders of the surviving nations:
Gaara, the Kazekage, his face unreadable, his hands folded in front of him. He had seen too much death already.
Tsunade, the Fifth Hokage, her golden eyes filled with weariness, as though the weight of the world rested on her shoulders.
Ino, representing Konoha alongside Tsunade, her gaze cold.
Hinata, her Tenseigan glowing faintly, her heart torn between justice and mercy.
Mei Terumī, the Mizukage, whose normally playful demeanor was gone, replaced by a quiet, simmering rage.
Laura, the daughter of the Raikage, her body trembling with barely suppressed hatred.
Killer Bee, who had miraculously survived, though still weak, his usual rhyming absent as he stared at the people who had taken his brother's life.
Kurotsuchi, the new Tsuchikage, her face tight with emotion as she fought between her grandfather's wisdom and her own grief.
The Otsutsuki Warriors, the transformed shinobi who had become something beyond human, standing in silent judgment.
It was not a trial. It was an execution waiting to happen.
Laura was the first to speak, her hands clenching into fists as she glared at the accused.
"I vote for their deaths."
Her voice shook with rage, but there was no hesitation in her words.
"These monsters need to die. They took my father from me. They took my mother. They took everything. And now you expect me to just let them live?"
Her golden eyes burned with hatred as she turned toward the others.
"What kind of justice is this? Do you think the people who lost their families will accept this? If we let them go, we will be telling the world that the lives of our loved ones meant nothing!"
She slammed her hands on the table, the force cracking the wood beneath her fingers.
"We cannot let them walk away from this!"
Kurotsuchi's breath was shaky as she closed her eyes.
She wanted to be strong.
She wanted to be like her grandfather, Ōnoki, the man who always thought of the future before making a decision.
She wanted to be a leader who was not ruled by emotion.
But as she looked at the Silver King, the man who had erased her grandfather from existence, she could feel nothing but pure, unfiltered hatred.
Her grandfather was gone. Not just dead, but completely erased, as though he had never existed.
She had no body to bury. No grave to visit.
Nothing.
And now this man stood before her, still breathing.
"I… agree." Her voice came out hoarse, almost a whisper.
Then, she clenched her fists and spoke louder.
"Someone has to die."
She exhaled sharply, her body trembling as she fought the emotions raging within her.
"I don't want to be ruled by revenge, but if no one is punished, there will be no peace. People need a sacrifice. Someone needs to pay for all the lives lost."
Genryu Uzumaki did not speak.
He had already made his decision the moment he chose to surrender.
He would accept whatever punishment they gave him.
His only concern was Hotaru.
She was still so young, too young to be burdened with his sins.
"Let her go," he said suddenly, his voice calm, composed. "Kill me if you must, but my daughter should not suffer for my choices."
Hotaru, still weakened from her battle, clenched her fists.
"No."
She stepped forward, standing beside her father.
"If he dies, you all die."
The words hung in the air, thick with emotion.
The room was thick with tension, the weight of a thousand souls pressing down on the gathered leaders. The decision had been made, but it was not the one many had expected.
"No one is going to die," Ino declared, her voice firm and unwavering.
Her golden eyes swept over the room, daring anyone to challenge her.
"However, the Uzumaki clan will serve Naruto Uzumaki. And you two—" she turned her gaze to Genryu and Hotaru "—will leave this world."
A stunned silence followed.
Laura's hands clenched into fists, her body trembling as she glared at Ino, her hatred burning like wildfire. Kurotsuchi was no different, her face tight with barely contained rage.
"You expect us to just let them walk away?" Laura spat, her voice shaking with fury. "After everything they've done?"
Her gaze desperately flickered to the others, seeking support, looking for even one person who would agree with her, who would fight for justice—for vengeance.
But no one spoke.
Not Tsunade. Not Gaara. Not Mei. Not even Killer Bee, whose silence felt heavier than a mountain.
No one stood in their favor.
The world had lost too much.
The war had already claimed enough lives.
Kurotsuchi bit her lip so hard it nearly bled, her nails digging into her palm. She had fought to suppress her emotions, to act like her grandfather—the great Onoki, the wise Tsuchikage. But this? This was not justice. This was mercy. And mercy was not something she could give today.
But the decision had already been made.
Genryu's gaze was unreadable as he looked upon the shinobi leaders. He had expected them to hesitate in executing Hotaru, knowing that doing so would ignite another war, a battle of pure devastation.
But this?
This was unexpected.
"Is this your decision?" he asked, his voice calm yet tinged with curiosity.
Ino stood firm. "Yes, it is."
Beside her, Hinata stepped forward, her pink-tinged Tenseigan shimmering like twin celestial bodies. "We know she will return, but Naruto will be here when she does. There will be no second chance for this war to repeat itself."
She tilted her head, her expression not of arrogance, but of certainty—the quiet certainty of love, of trust, of unwavering faith.
"I know Naruto won't allow it."
"And none of you will ever be strong enough to break his rules."
Hotaru, who had remained silent, suddenly let out a soft, bitter laugh.
Her flaming eyes glowed, their depths unreadable, but her smirk spoke volumes.
"You are still so delusional in your love," she said, shaking her head. "There is no future where he can overpower me."
Her voice dropped into a whisper, a promise carried through the air like smoke from a dying fire.
"You will regret this day, and I will make sure of it."
She turned to her father, her expression shifting from one of smugness to something softer, more intimate.
For the first time, she seemed like a daughter again, rather than a conqueror.
Genryu, the man who had carried the hatred of the Uzumaki, the burden of vengeance, took one last look at his people.
The weight of his choices had never felt heavier.
"Toshiro," he said, his voice steady, his decision final. "Now that I am stepping down, you are the only one worthy of taking the helm."
Toshiro, the loyal commander of the Uzumaki, straightened his back, his expression unreadable.
"I don't know what path you will walk," Genryu continued, his gaze lingering on the man who had served him with unwavering devotion. "But I trust your decisions."
Then, for the first time in a long, long time, Genryu opened his arms and embraced him.
A moment of finality, of farewell, of silent understanding.
Then—
They were gone.
Genryu and Hotaru vanished, leaving Earth behind, fading into the depths of space like ghosts retreating into the void.
The tension did not fade when they left.
The room was still thick with emotions, thick with unspoken words, thick with the scars left behind by war.
Kurotsuchi turned away, unable to look at anyone, unable to bear the reality of it all.
Laura scoffed, her golden eyes burning with frustration and sorrow, before she stormed out of the chamber, unable to stomach the fact that her father's murderer still breathed.
The others remained seated, their faces grim, their hearts weary.