Uchiha Itachi's body trembled as he took a step back, his eyes widening in disbelief. His father and mother stood before him, alive and breathing, as if the tragedy of that night had never happened. His mind struggled to make sense of it all. The Fourth Hokage, Namikaze Minato, the infamous White Fang, Hatake Sakumo—these were men long dead, yet they stood here as if history itself had been rewritten.
And then his gaze locked onto another impossibility. Senju Tobirama, the Second Hokage, a known enemy of the Uchiha, stood among them. But the most disturbing thing of all was the Sharingan gleaming in his eyes—three tomoe spinning lazily in those sockets. Itachi felt a shiver run down his spine. Was this an illusion? No, he had mastered the Mangekyō Sharingan; no genjutsu should be able to deceive him so easily. But then, how could any of this be real?
His gaze flickered to another unsettling detail—the Third Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen, looked significantly younger than he should. And why was there suddenly a Fifth Hokage? Souta Kazuki, a boy he barely remembered from his younger brother Sasuke's days at the Academy, now wore the mantle of leadership. It was absurd, almost laughable. Yet, the oppressive weight of chakra surrounding him told him that this was no joke.
Hateful… just what was going on?
Meanwhile, on the battlefield, Uchiha Sasuke and Uzumaki Naruto relentlessly pressed their attack. Kisame Hoshigaki, renowned as the Monster of the Hidden Mist, found himself struggling. His chakra reserves, usually near limitless thanks to Samehada, were running dangerously low. His body was covered in cuts and bruises, blood seeping from his wounds.
"Pfft… Mr. Itachi…" Kisame spat out a mouthful of blood as he steadied himself, half-kneeling. His grip tightened on Samehada, but the sword shuddered, almost resisting him. "You need to leave! Get out of here while you still can! I'll hold these brats off!"
Despite the dire situation, Kisame grinned, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. He had always known that one day, he would meet his end in battle. But dying to protect Itachi? That was a fate he could accept.
Itachi, however, merely stared at the battlefield with an unreadable expression. "Kisame… we're not leaving." His voice was barely above a whisper.
Kisame blinked, his grin faltering. "Hah? What do you mean?"
Before Itachi could respond, Kisame suddenly felt an overwhelming presence behind him. His instincts screamed at him to move, but before he could even react—
"Flying Thunder God Technique!"
A blur of motion, faster than anything he had ever seen, and then a firm grip closed around his neck.
"What is immortal sounds so unlucky," a voice mused behind him. "But the Seven Ninja Swordsmen? That title has some weight to it. I could use a guard for the Hokage's office."
Kisame's eyes widened in horror as he realized who had appeared behind him. Souta Kazuki, the Fifth Hokage of Konoha. But how? He hadn't even sensed him! Even Itachi had failed to react!
Kisame Hoshigaki gritted his teeth, feeling the immense pressure radiating from the young man standing before him. His instincts screamed at him that this was no ordinary opponent. The way Souta Kazuki carried himself—the sharpness in his gaze, the sheer confidence in his stance—everything about him exuded dominance. Kisame had fought countless battles, stood against the strongest of shinobi, but never had he encountered an opponent quite like this.
"Hateful! Is this kid really this powerful?!" Kisame muttered to himself, his grip tightening around Samehada's hilt. He had heard of the new Hokage's strength, but hearing and experiencing it firsthand were two different things. "No wonder he became the Fifth Hokage..."
Yet, despite the overwhelming force pressing down on him, Kisame refused to yield. Surrender was never an option for someone like him. His entire existence had been built upon the foundation of battle. To kneel now would be to betray everything he stood for. He clenched his teeth and growled, "But... does this brat think he can make me surrender?! Hah! You're thinking too much!"
Souta, watching him struggle, merely smirked. He had already seen through Kisame's heart. It was precisely because of men like him—those who only recognized strength—that Souta knew exactly how to handle him. Without hesitation, he extended his hand with lightning speed, his fingers tightening around Kisame's throat.
"Kisame Hoshigaki," Souta's voice was calm, yet the weight behind his words was suffocating. "I have no interest in making you my comrade through kindness. I don't need your loyalty out of respect. If force is all you understand, then I will carve my will into your very soul."
A shiver ran down Kisame's spine as he looked into Souta's eyes—eyes that suddenly transformed, revealing the terrifying power of the Mangekyō Sharingan. The moment he saw the swirling windmill pattern, his entire world shattered.
"Kotoamatsukami!"
A silent command pulsed through his mind, reshaping his very thoughts. For a brief moment, Kisame's eyes dulled, his consciousness drowning in a sea of absolute control. Then, within seconds, his expression changed completely. The fiery defiance that had been there just moments before had been replaced with unwavering devotion.
Kisame took a deep breath as if a newfound purpose had taken root within him. When he looked at Souta again, his gaze was filled not with hostility, but with admiration—no, fanaticism.
"Master!!!!"
Souta released his grip and stepped back. His eyes narrowed as he observed Kisame carefully. He needed to confirm if the technique had fully taken effect. "No need to call me Master," he said, his voice steady. "Just call me Hokage from now on."
Kisame immediately straightened up and responded without hesitation, "Yes! Hokage-sama!"
Souta smirked, satisfied. Even for someone like him, using Kotoamatsukami was no small feat, but against an opponent like Kisame, it was necessary. A warrior like him, whose life revolved around strength, would never submit through words alone. He needed absolute conviction—something that only the power of the Sharingan could provide.
"Hmm..." Souta crossed his arms, looking thoughtful. "This is interesting. If the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist were to reunite under my command... now that would be quite the spectacle."
Kisame's eyes burned with enthusiasm. "Hokage-sama! No matter how impressive the Seven Ninja Swordsmen are, we will never be as magnificent as you!"
For the first time in a while, Souta was caught off guard. He raised an eyebrow at Kisame. "Wait... did you just flatter me?"
Kisame nodded with complete sincerity. "I only speak the truth, Hokage-sama."
A moment of silence passed between them before Souta let out a low chuckle. Then, unable to hold back, he laughed. "Hahahahahaha! Well, well! You're not just a powerhouse, but you've got a silver tongue too! I like that!"
Kisame's grin widened. "It's only natural to acknowledge the greatest, Hokage-sama."
Souta shook his head in amusement. Who would have thought? Kisame, the infamous Monster of the Hidden Mist, was actually good at flattery. It was a rare sight indeed.
Though everyone had once doubted Souta's leadership, moments like these reminded them why the young Hokage had been chosen. Souta Kazuki wasn't just a leader—he was a force of nature. And the more time passed, the clearer it became that Konoha's future would be shaped entirely by his hands.