Chapter XXX: Resistance
Akazo kneels on one knee, his chest rising and falling as he pants heavily, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips despite his exhaustion. Beside him, Sasuke stands tall, his sword held out in front of his body. His breathing is calm but shallow, a testament to the intensity of the battle they've just fought.
With a relaxed motion, Sasuke lowers his blade, signaling the end of the battle. Spread out before the two Anbu members are more than twenty Hidden Sound ninjas, their bodies sprawled across the ground in a defeated heap. Some groan in pain, while others lie motionless, their weapons scattered around them. The air is thick with the scent of sweat, blood, and the faint tang of chakra residue.
Sasuke lets out a quiet sigh, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he sheathes his sword. His Sharingan deactivates, the crimson glow fading from his eyes as he glances down at Akazo. "You holding up okay?" he asks.
Akazo nods, pushing himself to his feet with a grunt. He stretches his arms, wincing slightly as his muscles protest the movement. Despite his fatigue, he can't help but feel a twinge of envy at Sasuke's seemingly endless stamina. Still, he decides to lighten the mood. "Yeah, I'm good. That was some good training for you, huh?" he jokes, a playful grin spreading across his face.
Sasuke chuckles softly, shaking his head. "Of course. But all jokes aside, we have to find Lady Hokage while the higher-ups figure out what to do in this dire situation. Hopefully, the shinobi we have at our disposal right now are good enough to at least hold off the enemy inside the village," he replies, his gaze shifting to a Leaf Jonin in the distance who is busy coordinating with other defenders.
Akazo crosses his arms, his impatience evident. "Wait, Sasuke. The first thing any of us Anbu would do in this situation is ensure the safety of the Hokage, so we should assume a different squad is already with her. Shouldn't we deal with the enemy still pouring into the village?" he argues, his tone firm. He can't help but think that they're wasting precious time talking when the village is still under attack.
Sasuke considers this for a moment before nodding. "I suppose you're right. Just in case, make a few of those special clones of yours and send them to the Hokage. My shadow clones aren't durable enough," he says, turning his attention back to the battlefield.
Akazo doesn't waste a second. His hands move swiftly, forming a series of intricate hand signs: Ushi, Inu, Uma, Hebi, Tora. With a sharp exhale, he slams his palm onto the ground, the earth beneath him rippling faintly. A moment later, a soft light envelops the area, and five perfect replicas of Akazo emerge from the ground, their expressions as focused and determined as his own. Without a word, the clones vanish in a blur, speeding toward the heart of the village to ensure the Hokage's safety.
Sasuke and Akazo exchange a brief nod before donning their Anbu masks, their identities now hidden behind the cold, animalistic visages. In an instant, they vanish, their bodies moving like shadows as they rush toward the northern side of the village, where the sounds of battle grow louder with every passing second. The invasion is still far from over.
Gyatsō smirks widely as his eyes snap open, the fiery flare of the Mūgetsu Shaolin illuminating the smoke-filled battlefield with an eerie, otherworldly glow. Around him, multiple Leaf shinobi stand with their weapons drawn, their faces pale and their bodies trembling despite their numbers. The air is thick with his menacing chakra, the kind that makes it hard to breathe, and none of them dare to make the first move.
"What's wrong?" Gyatsō cackles, his voice dripping with mockery as he slowly levitates into the air, his white hair floating around him like a halo of chaos. "You all look as if you've seen a ghost." His words echo across the battlefield, and a few of the shinobi drop their weapons, their eyes glazing over as they fall prey to his genjutsu. The others, however, aren't so lucky. They remain frozen, their fear paralyzing them as they stare up at the monstrous figure before them.
"The reality is," Gyatsō continues, his tone casual yet menacing, "you haven't a ghost of a chance of even touching me. Coming to me in a swarm like this is courageous, but the result will forever be the same." With a single, effortless hand seal formed by his right hand, the air around him grows unbearably hot.
In an instant, his Catastrophic Hell Flames erupt, engulfing the shinobi in a blazing inferno. The flames consume everything in their path, leaving no time for screams or cries. The shinobi are reduced to ash before they even realize what's happening. The ground beneath them melts, forming a massive crater that continues to deepen as the molten substance sears through the earth. Gyatsō hovers above the destruction, his smirk widening as he surveys the devastation.
But then, without warning, his body jerks violently. He drops to the ground, clutching the left side of his face with a snarl. His left Mūgetsu eye flickers, the fiery glow fading as it morphs into the regular Shaolin before shifting again—this time into Itachi's Mangekyou Sharingan. Gyatsō's expression twists in rage and confusion.
What the hell is HE doing?!he thinks, his mind panicking. Even though they are fused, with the Osore leader's more powerful chakra greatly suppressing the Uchiha's, it seems Itachi is resisting. He's fighting against Gyatsō's control.
"What's happening?!" Gyatsō demands through gritted teeth, his voice a low growl. Itachi's calm, gentle voice soon fills his mind, a big contrast to Gyatsō's fury.
"Gyatsō Mataba," Itachi's voice begins, "I'm afraid that this childish game of yours is coming to an end by my hand."
Gyatsō's eyes widen as he looks down at his left hand, which begins to morph, the fingers elongating and the skin shifting until it becomes unmistakably Itachi's. Panic and rage surge through him as he realizes what's happening—Itachi is trying to force his way out of their fused state, to reclaim control.
"You impotent little... how about you stay in your place— in oblivion?!" Gyatsō roars, his voice shaking with increasing rage. The sheer nerve of this Uchiha sacrifice! The Yamikage shakily raises his right hand, already beginning to form the required hand signs needed to suppress Itachi's resistance. But before he can complete it, Itachi's hand—now fully formed—shoots up and grips Gyatsō's throat with crushing force.
In one swift, brutal motion, Itachi slams Gyatsō's body into the ground, the impact cracking the earth beneath them. Gyatsō's smirk falters, replaced by a look of sheer disbelief as he struggles against the sudden shift in control. The battle is no longer against the Leaf village—it's within him, a clash of wills that threatens to tear him apart from the inside.
The left side of Gyatsō's face continues to twist and morph, the features shifting unnaturally as Itachi's visage takes over. The transformation spreads rapidly, the entire left side of his body soon becoming Itachi's—sleek, composed, and radiating a calm intensity. Gyatsō's once-unified form now looks grotesquely split, two beings forcibly merged yet struggling to separate.
"Very soon, Gyatsō, your place is going to be in the afterlife," Itachi threatens, his voice calm but laced with quiet determination. As he speaks, his body begins to stretch away from the right side of Gyatsō's form, like a shadow peeling itself free from its host. The process is slow but purposeful, each movement a testament to Itachi's willpower as he fights to break free from the shackles of Gyatsō's consciousness.
In a matter of moments, Itachi pulls himself completely free, landing gracefully on the ground with his one leg. Soon after, the other missing half of his body also reforms, completing his revival. He pants slightly, the exertion evident, but a small, satisfied smile plays on his lips. He stands tall, his presence commanding despite the toll the separation has taken on him.
Gyatsō, meanwhile, lies motionless on the ground, his body still and lifeless. A low grunt escapes his lips as he stirs, his eyes snapping open. He sits up abruptly, his movements sharp and agitated, and glares at Itachi with a look of pure rage. His left eye, once glowing with the power of the Mūgetsu, is now gone—nothing but an empty socket remains.
Wait... my—my Mūgetsu! What has he done?! Gyatsō roars in his head. His right Mūgetsu eye has rescinded back into the standard Shaolin pattern. Never a true heir to the Taisega clan's kekkei genkai, it appears that in Gyatsō's case, he would need both eyes in order to utilize their might. The divine powers of the Ōtsutsuki visual justsu was now locked in a cage completely out of his reach.
Itachi's smile widens into a smirk as he notices his own right eye is now missing, apparently the price of their separation. He closes the empty eye socket, his expression calm and composed as he looks down at Gyatsō. "I once told you that I would be the one to stop your plans," Itachi says. "As our consciousnesses blurred into one, I gained access to your memories. Long ago, Orochimaru told you that there were no drawbacks to this. He deceived you. This artificial chakra fusion is not perfected. You failed to realise a fusion can only be completed under specific conditions... if both sides consent. If one resists, however..."
He gestures to Gyatsō's empty eye socket, his tone almost clinical. Gyatsō stares at him, wide-eyed and seething, his teeth grinding together so hard it's a wonder they don't crack. The humiliation burns hotter than any flame, and the fact that it's Itachi—of all people—who has brought him to this point only fuels his rage.
"...Then the fusion can be undone if the resister manages to overcome the immense chakra binding him. Simple, really," Itachi continues, his smirk fading into a more serious expression. "But don't be alarmed. That other man you fused with before... he's the one who told me all this."
Gyatsō's mind races, his thoughts spiraling. Doctorisha?! He... he betrayed me?! I'm the one who created that bastard! The realization hits him like a physical blow, and he takes a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady himself. Slowly, he rises to his feet, despite the anger coursing through him.
Itachi narrows his eyes, his focus sharp as he watches Gyatsō carefully. The white-haired man glances to the side, a low chuckle now escaping his lips. The sound is dark, almost amused, but there's an edge of madness to it.
"So be it," Gyatsō says, his voice low and dangerous. He closes his left eye, the empty socket hidden behind his eyelid, and a twisted smile spreads across his face. "I'll regain my Mūgetsu through other means."
"You'll what?"
Suddenly, Zuko lands hard on the ground next to Gyatsō, his knees buckling as he struggles to catch his breath. His curse mark is fully activated, the dark, swirling patterns covering his body glowing faintly with unstable chakra. But his chakra is draining rapidly, the strain evident in the way his body trembles and his breathing comes in ragged gasps. At this rate, he won't last more than a few minutes. Zuko coughs violently, blood spilling from his lips as he looks up at Gyatsō, his Mūgetsu eye flickering weakly.
Gyatsō's gaze hungrily locks onto Zuko's Mūgetsu, and a manic laugh bursts from his lips, echoing across the battlefield. The sound is unhinged, filled with a twisted sense of triumph. He knows that victory is within his grasp—all he needs is to take Zuko's own Mūgetsu, and nothing will stand in his way.
"No!" Itachi shouts, his voice sharp and urgent. He dashes toward Zuko, his movements swift, but the Osore member reacts instantly. With a deafening roar, the white-haired Taisega clan member swings his fist through the air. The sheer force of the punch generates a shockwave, sending Itachi sprawling backward, his body skidding across the ground harshly.
Zuko, still on his knees, turns his gaze back to Gyatsō. His expression is one of desperation and unwavering loyalty. "My lord," he pleads, his voice weak but determined, "I don't... have much time left. Take my eyes—they'll regenerate for me shortly. Allow me to fight for you until my last breath!"
Gyatsō's crazed smile widens, his hand slowly reaching toward Zuko's face.
Before he can make contact, however, a sharp, crackling line of electricity streaks through the air, striking Gyatsō's hand and paralyzing it mid-motion. He jerks back, his expression twisting in shock and anger.
"Now what?!" Gyatsō gasps, his voice a mix of frustration and disbelief. Zuko, equally startled, turns his head to look ahead.
Standing above Itachi, their presence commanding and their eyes blazing with determination, are Sasuke and Akazo. Sasuke's Sharingan is fully active, his gaze locked onto Gyatsō with an intensity that could pierce through steel. Akazo stands beside him, his stance ready, his expression grim but resolute. Itachi looks up at his little brother, surprise flickering across his face, but Sasuke doesn't glance back. His focus is entirely on Gyatsō.
"Sorry," Sasuke says, his voice cold, "but this fight is only getting started."