CHAPTER 195: CHAPTER 195: UCHIHA HARU – IF I WANT HIM DEAD, HE WON’T SURVIVE

In an instant, a Kage-level ninja was slain by Uchiha Haru.

It took little effort.

This alone was a testament to Haru’s overwhelming power.

But was Danzo really dead that easily?

Of course not.

Haru didn’t think so for a second.

Danzo, that old schemer, was never particularly strong among Kage-level shinobi. In the original events of the Naruto world, Danzo couldn’t even hold his own against Sasuke after he’d just awakened his Mangekyō Sharingan.

What made Danzo troublesome wasn’t his own ability—it was the Sharingan implanted in his arm. More specifically, Izanagi.

A forbidden-level technique.

With every use, Izanagi could rewrite death itself, turning fatal damage into nothing more than an illusion.

A ninja armed with Izanagi wasn’t going to die so easily.

That’s why, even after seeing Danzo’s body torn apart before his eyes, Haru stayed on high alert. His Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan was constantly scanning the surroundings, its near-pathological insight leaving nothing hidden.

Since he had chosen to strike Danzo down, it had to be final and absolute.

If Haru declared Danzo must die—then Danzo would die.

Sure enough, he soon found the rat attempting to fake his death and escape like a coward.

"You... you..."

Danzo was just about to slip away when he suddenly froze.

Someone was standing in front of him.

He looked up—and his heart sank.

It was Uchiha Haru.

Before he could say or do anything, Haru flicked his wrist. A shuriken shot through the air and sank into Danzo’s throat with deadly precision.

"You... you..."

Danzo clutched his bleeding neck with trembling hands, blood bubbling between his fingers.

Veins bulged on his forehead. His eyes widened as if trying to speak, to plead—but no words came out.

Only blood.

His mouth frothed red as life slipped away.

Finally, his eyes dimmed into lifeless grey.

With a dull thud, Danzo collapsed onto the earth, dead on the spot.

But Haru didn’t stop.

Danzo—this cockroach of a man—wasn’t so easy to kill. His skills may have been mediocre, but his tenacity and survival tricks were unmatched.

Haru turned and began searching again.

And sure enough, not long after—he found him.

Danzo, resurrected.

His expression was grim and filled with bitterness.

Izanagi again.

The jutsu that could undo even death had become Danzo’s curse. A tool that should’ve turned the tide of battle had turned into a ticket for prolonged humiliation.

He loathed it—but he had no choice.

The gap in strength between him and Haru was like heaven and earth.

To Haru, killing him was like crushing a bug.

Even if Danzo revived ten thousand times, he would only be forced to die ten thousand times more.

Swish!

This time, Haru unleashed the Wood Release: Cutting Technique.

Sharpened wooden spikes burst from the ground, impaling Danzo through the chest and abdomen.

They didn’t just stop—they grew, ripping through muscle, organs, and bone.

In seconds, Danzo’s body resembled a grotesque pincushion.

A hedgehog of gore.

It was a horrific sight. But it still wasn’t over.

Again—Danzo revived.

And again—Haru stood before him, eyes gleaming with that same cold amusement.

It wasn’t that Haru enjoyed killing.

But watching Danzo’s miserable cycle of death and resurrection was just too ridiculous.

Surely Danzo never imagined such a day would come.

To be slaughtered repeatedly like a worthless animal, completely helpless.

So why keep reviving?

What was the point?

Even Danzo didn’t have an answer.

Part of him wanted to let it end—to finally fall and stay down.

There was no meaning in struggling anymore. His fate was sealed.

But to give up Izanagi? To stop fighting and let Haru kill him?

That... he couldn’t accept.

Not yet.

If—just if— there was still a sliver of hope, some miracle waiting in the shadows...

Who could say for certain that he would die this time?

Danzo clung to that twisted hope.

He didn’t want to die. He hadn’t become Hokage. He hadn’t fulfilled his lifelong ambitions. His twisted ideology, his vision for Konoha—none of it had been realized.

He couldn’t die.

He refused to die.

So, again and again, fueled by delusion and desperation, Danzo used Izanagi.

Even though each revival came with growing agony, disgrace, and a sense of utter helplessness...

He couldn’t stop.

Yet, Izanagi wasn’t infinite.

Even with the Hashirama Cells implanted in his body to bolster stamina and chakra regeneration, there were limits.

Danzo’s right arm—stuffed with stolen Sharingan—was the source of his Izanagi chain.

And now, it seemed that the moment had come.

Danzo Shimura gasped heavily, his face ashen and bloodless.

He had endured the excruciating pain of dying and reviving over and over again—each resurrection more humiliating than the last. His only hope had been that perhaps, just perhaps, the tides would turn in his favor and grant him a sliver of survival.

But now, that seemed impossible.

After experiencing so many life-and-death scenarios in such rapid succession, Danzo’s mind and psyche teetered on the brink of collapse.

He wasn’t sure he could hold on if it happened even one more time.

The bad news: this was his last resurrection.

If he died now, there would be no coming back. No more Izanagi. No more tricks.

The good news? This was the last resurrection. If he fell now, he’d finally escape the cycle of despair—no more agony, no more fear, no more helplessness. A true end.

But he didn’t want to die—not yet.

If he could just find one more chance...

"No... No... Uchiha Haru, you can’t kill me!" Danzo roared, his voice hoarse and trembling with desperation. "I can’t die yet!"

"Do you know who I am? Do you know my identity? Do you understand the consequences of killing me?"

"Are you trying to start a war between Konoha and the Hidden Mist Village?!"

Danzo’s words came out low and furious, barely restrained rage mixing with terror.

He hadn’t given up. His own power was pitiful in comparison to Haru’s, but he still had one last weapon—his words. His influence. His position.

But Haru wasn’t moved.

He smirked coldly. A sharp wooden spike sprouted from his arm—sleek, deadly, and infused with chakra—and launched forward without hesitation.

Danzo’s pupils contracted in fear. His instincts screamed at him to dodge.

But he was too slow.

Especially when compared to Uchiha Haru’s Wood Release: Cutting Technique.

Pfft!

A mouthful of blood erupted from Danzo’s mouth. His body jerked as the wooden spike impaled him.

His face twisted in disbelief. His eyes widened with despair.

Is this... where it ends for me...?

He didn’t want to accept it. Not like this.

But it was too late. His fate had long been sealed.

If blame was to be assigned, it lay squarely on him—for having offended someone far beyond his ability to control.

Danzo could feel the strength draining from his limbs, his body growing heavier with each breath.

Finally, he collapsed to the ground with a dull thud.

His vision blurred. His senses dulled.

And then, the last words he heard in his miserable life rang out—calm, cold, final.

"You were never worthy of representing Konoha."

Uchiha Haru’s voice was quiet, but it cut deeper than any blade.

Danzo Shimura, leader of the secretive and notorious "Root" faction, had foolishly expected the village to avenge him?

Ridiculous. Laughable.

Haru stood over his corpse, scanning the area with his Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan, making sure there were no tricks left, no final surprises. Only after confirming Danzo’s death did he finally relax.

That old bastard was slippery—too slippery.

Let your guard down for even a second, and he might just find a way to escape death once again.

Haru wouldn’t allow that.

Not this time.

Just to be sure, Haru drew the blade at his hip and flung it at Danzo’s corpse. The blade pierced clean through.

Danzo was dead.

Truly dead.

His body, though, still bore the unmistakable traces of Senju Hashirama’s cells. The sheer potency of those cells always left physical distortions on the transplant host—bulging growths, malformed tissue, and sometimes even wood-like appendages.

The legacy of the "God of Shinobi" could be seen etched into Danzo’s corpse.

An ambition that outstripped reason. A greed that consumed everything.

Danzo had dreamed of mastering power he couldn’t comprehend.

He had paid the price.

Haru’s eyes narrowed.

Across Danzo’s modified right arm, numerous Sharingan were now closed—sealed shut by overuse. The telltale sign of Izanagi’s cost. Each time the forbidden genjutsu was used, the eye would shut, losing its light temporarily.

Now, all but one were closed.

Just one eye remained open.

The one Danzo had always kept hidden under his bandaged eye socket.

The blood-red Sharingan spun slowly, its tomoe forming a perfect blade-shaped pattern.

A Mangekyō Sharingan.

This was Uchiha Shisui’s eye.

Haru recognized it immediately.

In this world, few possessed the Mangekyō Sharingan. And Danzo only had one—it could only belong to Shisui.

"Kotoamatsukami..." Haru muttered under his breath.

The ultimate illusion—a genjutsu so powerful it could manipulate thoughts without the victim ever realizing it. The crown jewel of Uchiha Shisui’s dojutsu.

The eye that had once represented hope... now buried in a grave of betrayal and blood.

Slowly, Haru stepped forward.

Raising one hand gently, he summoned several slender vines from the ground with his Wood Release, guiding them toward Danzo’s lifeless face.

The vines twisted expertly, prying open the eye socket and delicately extracting the Mangekyō Sharingan.

The eye floated toward Haru’s outstretched palm.

Haru stared at it.

Blood-red. Alive. Dormant—but pulsing with immeasurable power.

His own Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan activated instinctively, swirling in his eyes as he examined the structure and chakra signatures embedded within the eye in his hand.

He was cautious.

As a transmigrator, Haru knew just how dangerous this dojutsu was.

Kotoamatsukami wasn’t some ordinary genjutsu.

It was the pinnacle of illusion—the most advanced mental manipulation technique in the ninja world.

Once caught in it, even a powerhouse could be rewritten from the inside out—without ever noticing it.

Even Haru, despite his confidence, had no intention of testing fate.

Caution was his ally.

Every movement was calculated. Every flow of chakra, controlled.

He wouldn’t take a single unnecessary risk with Shisui’s Mangekyō.

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