Naruto: End of the Shinobi World

Jiraiya stood to the side in silence, his expression grave as he watched Hiruzen Sarutobi, waiting for his answer.

Hiruzen was quiet for a moment. In those few short seconds, it felt as if he had aged several more years.

He raised his head. There was relief in his eyes—along with the bleakness of an ending—and he slowly nodded.

”Yes… I really am old. It’s time… for me to completely step aside.”

He looked at Tsunade, a trace of gratitude and reassurance in his gaze.

”Tsunade… thank you for still thinking of me. Don’t worry. I’ll keep them in check.”

”If it happens again… you don’t need to consider me anymore.”

”And from now on, unless you send for me, I won’t appear in the Hokage Tower again.”

This time, his promise carried undeniable weight and sincerity.

With that, Hiruzen no longer lingered. Accompanied by Mitokado Homura and Utatane Koharu—both pale-faced, stripped of every last bargaining chip—he left the Hokage’s office with unsteady steps.

This time, it was a complete withdrawal.

The passing of an era.

When the door closed, a brief silence fell over the office.

Tsunade slowly sat back down and let out a long breath.

Jiraiya stepped beside her and patted her shoulder. Nothing needed to be said.

On the very day Tsunade officially took office as the Fifth Hokage, the news that she had eradicated Root and issued a kill order on former Hokage advisor Danzō Shimura spread like a psychic storm throughout the shinobi world.

Everyone who heard it had the same initial reaction—

Stunned disbelief.

It was too fast.

Too ruthless.

Leaving no time whatsoever for the old forces to breathe, let alone counterattack.

Yet after the initial shock passed, the reactions inside the offices of the Five Kage were unexpectedly consistent—quiet nods of approval.

The Fourth Raikage, A, crossed his arms and snorted.

”Hmph! Those old bastards in Konoha really were rotten to the core. That woman Tsunade… ruthless, decisive. If she’d acted a few years later—or hesitated like Hiruzen—Konoha would’ve torn itself apart from the inside.”

High above the ground, the Third Tsuchikage Ōnoki floated in the air. Even his shrewd, calculating face showed rare agreement.

”Scraping poison from the bone… severing one’s own arm to survive. It truly was the only way to save Konoha. Princess Tsunade has guts.”

The shinobi world buzzed with discussion, but the majority couldn’t help admiring Tsunade’s decisiveness.

Meanwhile, in the Land of Rain.

Through Zetsu’s intelligence network, Itachi Uchiha learned of the earth-shattering news almost immediately.

He stood there as if his soul had been ripped from his body.

For the first time, that perpetually frozen face showed a near-blank daze. Even his crimson Sharingan lost focus.

Danzō Shimura… had fallen?

Declared an S-rank missing-nin?

Kill on sight?

Root—completely annihilated?

It happened too fast. Too suddenly. Far beyond anything he had anticipated or planned for.

He had sacrificed everything, shouldering the infamy of butcher and traitor, all to protect Sasuke under the threat of Konoha’s upper echelon—and to eliminate the danger of civil war within the village.

And now…

One of the greatest threats—one of the roots of all his suffering—had been so crudely and directly crushed by Tsunade.

Reduced to a hunted fugitive.

Then what did his sacrifice amount to?

What about the blood of his clan that stained his hands?

What about the ”love” that forced Sasuke to hate him, to live with the sole purpose of killing him?

In that moment, Itachi felt the world spin, his thoughts collapsing into chaos.

He didn’t know what he was supposed to do.

He didn’t even know what he was supposed to feel.

Relief?

Absurdity?

Or… a bone-deep emptiness—a helpless sense of being toyed with by fate?

Itachi Uchiha had always believed he was playing a grand game of chess, walking alone in darkness for a noble goal.

But now…

The board had been flipped.

The opponent had been wiped away.

Leaving only him—still stubbornly clutching pieces that had long since lost their meaning—standing alone.

Like a… clown.

All his convictions, all his calculations, all his pain—at this instant—felt weightless.

”Shh-shh-shh…”

Orochimaru’s skin-crawling laughter echoed as his long tongue slid unconsciously across his face. His golden, slit pupils gleamed with extreme greed and excitement.

In the moment Itachi lost focus, Orochimaru struck without warning!

Several massive venomous snakes shot out from the shadows like lightning, instantly coiling around Itachi’s seemingly unguarded body. Cold scales tightened, binding him completely.

”Hehehe… Itachi Uchiha,” Orochimaru approached slowly, admiring the ”perfect vessel” now within reach, his voice trembling with excitement.

”It seems the news from Konoha has shaken you badly. What a gift from heaven! Those beautiful Mangekyō Sharingan of yours… that perfect body… hand it over to me!”

Orochimaru knew the Sharingan countered him—

but he simply couldn’t suppress his desire for it, much less the Mangekyō Sharingan.

Yet Itachi, tightly bound by snakes, didn’t even struggle.

He merely lifted his gaze.

Within those crimson Mangekyō eyes, there was no panic. No anger. Only an unfathomable, chilling calm.

He looked at Orochimaru—like one would look at a buzzing fly—and spoke in a flat, emotionless tone that sent a shiver down Orochimaru’s spine.

”Orochimaru… when did you start believing you had already caught me?”

”What?!” Orochimaru’s pupils shrank violently. A powerful sense of danger made him instinctively try to retreat!

But it was already too late.

The surrounding scene shattered like broken glass, fragment by fragment.

The cold stone walls of the Akatsuki hideout vanished—replaced by an endless world beneath a sky dominated by a gigantic blood-red moon.

Tsukuyomi.

And Orochimaru himself was bound tightly to a massive cross, utterly unable to move.

He didn’t even know when—or how—he had fallen into the genjutsu.

”When?! How is that possible?!” Orochimaru was terrified. He prided himself on deep research and preparation against the Sharingan—yet he had still fallen without realizing it.

At this moment, Itachi Uchiha was in an exceptionally foul mood.

The upheaval in Konoha had shaken the beliefs he clung to. The confusion and suppressed emotions inside him churned like molten lava.

Orochimaru’s arrogant provocation had slammed straight into the muzzle of a loaded weapon.

He had become the perfect outlet.

Itachi ignored Orochimaru’s shock and questions.

Expressionless, he walked up to the bound Orochimaru.

A long blade radiating chilling cold materialized in his hand.

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