Naruto: End of the Shinobi World

Danzō did not hesitate.

He didn’t even bother with a threat or a final retort. He turned and fled in the opposite direction of the cave entrance, dashing desperately into the depths of the forest.

He ran at full speed—truly running for his life.

”Hey, hey, Elder Danzō,” the mocking, lighthearted voice followed him like a shadow, whispering as if right beside his ear, ”why the rush? We haven’t properly caught up yet.”

Danzō’s vision blurred.

The bark-cloaked figure seeped directly out of the trunk of a massive tree ahead, as though growing from it, blocking his path precisely where he would pass.

It was as if he had been waiting there all along.

Danzō skidded to a halt in horror, nearly crashing into him.

”What… what do you want?!” His voice trembled with fear and fury. He tried negotiation—tried intimidation. ”I am—was—a high-ranking official of Konoha! Do you know what attacking a Konoha shinobi means?! And what do you want? Information about the Devil Fruit? I know some things!”

”Konoha? Heh…” The hood shifted slightly, as though amused. ”As for the Devil Fruit? I have no interest in something like that.”

”Then why?!” Danzō nearly screamed.

”Why?” The bark-skinned man tilted his head. The simple gesture looked disturbingly unnatural on his inhuman body. ”Perhaps… I simply find you unpleasant. Or maybe I’m just looking for a bit of entertainment.”

Before the words finished, the attack resumed.

The ground beneath Danzō softened like a swamp. Countless fine, resilient roots burst upward, binding his legs and dragging him down.

At the same time, the surrounding trees came alive—branches whipping and thrusting like monstrous tentacles.

Danzō roared, unleashing Wind Release to slice through them, using Substitution Technique and Body Flicker to struggle free. But the plants were terrifyingly durable—and seemed to suppress his chakra in some unknown way.

Within moments, wounds covered his body.

A sharpened branch pierced through his back and out his chest.

Death came again.

Not far away, beneath another ancient tree’s shadow, Danzō reappeared.

Another Sharingan on his right arm dimmed and closed forever.

His face was no longer merely pale. It had taken on a sickly gray-blue, drained of blood and vitality.

He fled again—this time in another direction.

But no matter where he ran, the bark-skinned man appeared before him through impossible means, or struck from angles beyond comprehension.

Sometimes earthen spikes erupted.

Sometimes toxic pollen filled the air.

Sometimes entire trees compressed him, crushing him into pulp.

Each death was vivid and agonizing.

Each resurrection cost another eye.

Danzō tried everything—threats, pleas, bargaining, desperate counterattacks, even provoking the man into revealing his purpose.

All useless.

The bark-skinned man was like a machine built solely for slaughter—or a lunatic who delighted in suffering.

After that initial remark about ”catching up,” he revealed nothing about his identity or motives. He simply continued, tirelessly and creatively, killing Danzō over and over again.

Ten times? More?

Danzō had lost count.

The Sharingan embedded in his right arm dimmed one by one.

When the final three-tomoe Sharingan exhausted its power and slowly faded into lifeless gray, Danzō collapsed onto blood-soaked leaves and rotting earth.

He no longer had the strength to stand.

His single remaining eye stared vacantly at the fractured gray sky above, broken by the canopy.

Izanagi… was gone.

The bark-cloaked demon stood not far away, composed and patient, the shadow beneath his hood seemingly fixed upon him—waiting for his final struggle.

Or his death.

The last flickers of defiance and anger in Danzō’s heart extinguished, leaving only boundless, icy despair.

He understood now.

Today, Shimura Danzō—the darkness of Konoha, the manipulator of countless fates—would die here, pointlessly and inexplicably.

He wouldn’t even know who killed him.

”All right. Last life.”

The bark-skinned man’s voice carried its usual teasing tone—along with a trace of something like disgust.

”As expected of the wicked Uchiha. Even in death, you’re irritating.”

Danzō’s lone eye shifted to focus on him.

”What… do you… want?” he forced out through cracked lips.

He refused to die without an answer.

Even if it was absurd.

The man chuckled softly, the sound grating in the still forest.

”Let’s just say… I’m bored.”

”Bored?!” Danzō coughed violently, black blood mixed with fragments spilling from his mouth. ”You lunatic… killing for fun?! You’re insane! Completely insane!!”

He had schemed his entire life.

Pursued power.

Committed every ruthless act for what he believed was Konoha’s future.

Was he truly going to die because someone was… bored?

”No helping it,” the man shrugged stiffly, his indifference chilling. ”You see… once I laid eyes on you, not killing you would’ve felt wrong.”

What kind of reason was that?!

Danzō trembled with rage—but he was too weak to fight back.

The bark-skinned man hesitated briefly and scratched at his bark-covered scalp. The dry rasping sound was grotesque.

”Originally,” he said playfully, ”I was considering telling you the identity I made up on the spot… so you could die enlightened.”

Danzō’s breath hitched.

Made up?

But the next words extinguished even that pitiful hope.

”…But never mind.” The shadow beneath the hood curved as if smiling. ”Dropping hints slowly and letting people guess—that sounds more entertaining. Don’t you think so, Elder Danzō?”

Mockery.

Utter mockery.

He wasn’t just playing with Danzō’s life.

He was playing with his need to know.

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