The Kubikiribōchō shattered, and Biwa Juzo's hands were severed in the same instant.
The entire event unfolded in the blink of an eye.
For those who bore witness, it was inconceivable. The weapons wielded by the Seven Ninja Swordsmen were forged from rare, specialized materials, designed to be far superior to ordinary ninja tools. Each sword carried unique abilities, and their durability was beyond question. Yet, even such a legendary blade was utterly powerless before the crimson sword hovering before Uchiha Yoruki.
No one could have predicted this outcome.
The first to react wasn't Biwa Juzo or his comrades, Jinpachi Munashi and Kushimaru Kuriarare—it was Uchiha Yoruki himself.
He blinked, his crimson eyes narrowing as he beheld the destruction caused by his newly summoned weapon. The realization sent a chill through him: the red sword wasn't just powerful—it was terrifyingly lethal.
"Ahhh!!"
Juzo's agonized scream shattered the momentary silence. The pain of losing both hands twisted his face into a mask of fury and despair. It was impossible to tell if his scream was born of physical agony or the anger of his crippling loss.
For a shinobi, every limb was critical. Losing even one was devastating, but losing both hands was a death sentence to Juzo's fighting prowess. His mind flashed to others who had suffered such fates—like Sarutobi Ao, who had been forced into retirement after losing the use of his legs more than a decade ago. For Biwa Juzo, the loss of both hands meant the loss of his identity as a warrior.
"Hiss..."
Nearby, Kushimaru and Jinpachi Munashi inhaled sharply, their gazes fixed on the fragments of Juzo's beheading sword. The scene before them was unimaginable.
Their eyes darted to the red sword that hovered ominously in the air. Its aura radiated danger, and the longer they stared, the more their bodies tensed with dread.
Swish!
Without a word, the two exchanged glances. Then, grabbing the still-screaming Juzo, they retreated swiftly, their only thought being escape.
"You think you can run?"
Yoruki's voice was icy, laced with murderous intent. Blood seeped from his left eye, its crimson hue intensifying the malice in his expression. His left Sharingan locked onto the fleeing trio, his gaze sharp enough to pierce through their desperate movements.
To him, their escape seemed sluggish—like insects crawling through molasses.
Zheng!
The red sword trembled in response to his intent, then streaked through the air like a bolt of lightning. In an instant, it appeared above the heads of the three fugitives, slashing down with unrelenting force.
Kushimaru and Jinpachi Munashi felt the chill of impending death. Instinctively, they dropped Juzo's limp body and dove to the sides.
The sword struck.
There was no sound, no clash of steel. Only a flash of red light.
When the light faded, Biwa Juzo's body lay in two pieces, cleanly severed. His face, frozen in shock and agony, remained fixed on his severed hands.
In mere moments, one of the legendary Seven Ninja Swordsmen was dead, his famed weapon destroyed.
Kushimaru and Jinpachi Munashi didn't dare look back. Fear gripped their hearts as they fled in opposite directions, their only thoughts focused on survival.
"Jinpachi Munashi, you won't escape your fate!"
Swish!
Yoruki's figure blurred as he pursued Jinpachi Munashi, his speed outmatching the panicked ninja's desperate flight. His voice, filled with unyielding rage, reverberated across the battlefield.
The Konoha ninjas paused mid-battle, their attention drawn to the pursuit. Fugaku and the others, who had been wary of Yoruki's mental state after witnessing his father's death, were stunned by the scene unfolding before them.
"Rekka no Ken —Strike!"
Yoruki's left eye gleamed ominously as he locked onto Jinpachi Munashi. The crimson sword hovered high before descending like a divine blade of judgment.
Jinpachi Munashi's heart pounded as he spun around, his instincts honed by years of combat. The explosive sword, Feimo, crackled with fiery energy in his grip. He swung it in a desperate counterattack, detonating the blade in a massive explosion.
Bang!
The shockwave rippled through the air, its force enough to uproot nearby trees and scatter debris. It was a gamble—a hope that the explosion would stall Yoruki's attack long enough for him to escape.
But the crimson sword was relentless. It sliced through the fiery shockwave as if it were nothing, its blade unhindered.
In an instant, the Shibuki sword split apart, severed by the unstoppable force.
Jinpachi Munashi's eyes widened in horror. The sword's glowing edge descended, and before he could react, it cleaved through him from his left shoulder to his waist.
Blood sprayed through the air as his heart, lungs, and other vital organs were bisected in one clean strike.
He didn't even have time to scream. The look of terror frozen on his face was the last expression he ever wore.
As the crimson sword retracted, silence fell over the battlefield. The death of two members of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen had left both allies and enemies speechless.
Juzo's shattered Kubikiribōchō and lifeless body lay untouched, a grim testament to the carnage wrought by Uchiha Yoruki.
Even Fugaku, locked in combat with Terumi, couldn't hide his shock. The intensity of Yoruki's newfound power sent chills down his spine.
For a brief moment, Fugaku hesitated, allowing Terumi Ryoonosuke an opening. But Terumi, too, was distracted, his gaze fixed on the scene of his fallen comrades.
"How... how is this possible?!" Terumi's voice trembled as his confidence wavered.
His cry seemed to echo across the battlefield, triggering a chain reaction. The clamor of combat quieted, and countless pairs of eyes turned to the remnants of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen.
The sight left even battle-hardened shinobi like Shisui stunned. Though he had faced death countless times, the brutality and precision of Yoruki's attacks left him momentarily shaken.
But as the shock subsided, a glimmer of hope emerged.
The deaths of Biwa Juzo and Jinpachi Munashi, two of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen, were a significant blow to the Mist. Konoha's forces, battered and bloodied, rallied with renewed vigor.
Yoruki, now standing amidst the wreckage, exhaled deeply. The madness that had consumed him moments ago began to fade. Blood trickled from his left eye as he wiped it away, his thoughts finally catching up with his actions.
He glanced at his reflection in a pool of blood. The intricate flame-like patterns in his Sharingan stared back at him, pulsating with an otherworldly power.
"This..." he murmured, his voice filled with awe.
In the annals of the Uchiha clan, few had ever awakened such a power. The Mangekyō Sharingan was a legendary ocular technique, reserved for those who had endured the most profound pain and loss.
"Mangekyō Sharingan," Yoruki whispered, the name resonating in his mind like a chant.
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