Chapter 12 The Unpredictable Wildcard (1) edited

At this moment, Danzo chose to refrain from questioning Itachi any further. His sharp mind processed the scene before him, but even his years of experience couldn't fully grasp the unfolding chaos. Beside Itachi stood Madara Uchiha—no, perhaps Obito Uchiha—an enigma whose very existence defied the flow of history. Yet, none of that mattered now. What mattered was the battle raging before him and the dangerous reality it revealed.

All those prior ambushes—the precision, the unpredictability—finally made sense.

"So Kaito was the one orchestrating everything from the shadows…" Danzo's narrowed eyes flicked toward the battlefield, his mind racing. "I underestimated him."

But now, the situation had shifted dramatically. Kaito, the once-unnoticed specter, had grown into a formidable force. The proof was undeniable—he had forced Obito into a corner, making him resort to Izanagi. To activate such a technique meant discarding the light from one eye, a gamble no shinobi would take lightly.

The sight of that self-inflicted blindness sent a ripple of unease through Danzo's heart—a rare crack in his iron composure. He watched as Obito's eye dimmed, leaving behind the hollow socket hidden beneath his mask. The weight of that sacrifice spoke volumes.

Kaito was dangerous. Far more dangerous than Danzo had ever anticipated.

The battlefield echoed with the distant rumble of crumbling debris, the air thick with the stench of scorched earth and blood. Bodies of fallen shinobi littered the outskirts, silent witnesses to the clash between titans. Each moment that passed only deepened Danzo's conviction.

"This man… cannot be allowed to live."

His resolve hardened. With a single wave of his hand, the elite Root operatives hidden in the shadows emerged like phantoms. Cloaked figures blurred into motion, encircling Kaito and Obito from every direction. Their blades glinted beneath the flickering light, closing the trap with mechanical precision.

Danzo's keen eyes scrutinized the battlefield, watching for the perfect opportunity to strike. His mind dissected every detail—the rhythm of Kaito's movements, the flicker of chakra signatures, the subtle gaps between each jutsu. There was no such thing as an invincible technique.

"Space-time ninjutsu… it defies common logic, but even the most powerful jutsu follows a pattern."

Though he couldn't fully unravel Kaito's technique, Danzo had lived long enough to know that every shinobi had a moment of weakness—a fleeting vulnerability hidden beneath the layers of power. It was in those brief windows of recovery that even the strongest could fall.

"The instant after he activates it… that's the key. That's when he's weakest."

Kaito's sharp eyes flicked to the encroaching Root agents. His breath was steady, but the toll of the battle weighed heavy on his body. Sweat clung to his brow, and his chakra reserves ran dangerously low. Yet, his gaze remained locked on Obito—a predator eyeing wounded prey.

Even now, outnumbered and exhausted, Kaito's presence radiated an unshakable determination. The flickering light reflected in his cold, calculating eyes—a silent declaration that he would fight until his very last breath.

Obito, despite his weakened state, still clung to the power of his Mangekyō Sharingan. The crimson glow in his remaining eye seemed to burn even brighter, as if refusing to yield. His chest heaved beneath his cloak, the pain of Izanagi's toll evident in every breath.

The air between the three men thickened, an invisible pressure bearing down on everyone present. The Root operatives crept closer, tightening the noose around Kaito and Obito. The slightest shift in the wind, the faintest crack of a twig—any sudden movement could ignite the bloodbath waiting to unfold.

Danzo's fingers curled into a loose fist, his mind already calculating the most efficient path to victory. If Kaito could exploit Obito's weakened state—if he managed to deliver the final blow—then Danzo could eliminate both threats in one decisive strike.

Two birds. One stone.

Yet, he knew better than to underestimate Kaito now. The young shinobi had outmaneuvered them all once before. His mind worked on a different level—meticulous, patient, and utterly ruthless.

Obito's breathing grew heavier. Kaito's stance shifted subtly.

The next few seconds would decide everything.

Danzo's heart pounded beneath his robes, though his face remained a mask of cold detachment. The battlefield stood on the edge of a knife, where a single misstep could reshape the future of Konoha.

No one moved.

No one spoke.

And then—like the calm before a storm—the final clash began.