The man swiftly drew his blade and countered, aiming directly for Shisui's heart.
"Who are you?" Shisui demanded, his voice sharp but strained.
Blood seeped through his fingers as he clutched his right side, where the opponent's strike had found its mark. His face turned pale, but his gaze remained focused.
When the masked man offered no response, Shisui narrowed his eyes, studying the distinctive mask and the precision of his movements. Speaking more to himself than his opponent, he muttered
"This outfit… and those techniques... Could it be? Are you the one behind the Nine-Tails attack that night?"
Before departing Konoha, Toshiro-senpai had not only entrusted him with a life-saving summoning scroll but had also issued a warning—to be cautious of a man who wielded space-time ninjutsu and wore an orange, one-eyed mask.
The memory of the attack just moments ago solidified his suspicions. His own blade had passed harmlessly through the stranger's body, while his opponent's strike had landed with deadly precision.
This was, without a doubt, the feared space-time ninjutsu.
And now, here of all places, the masked man had chosen to make his move.
'You certainly know how to pick your moments,' Shisui thought grimly, preparing himself for what was to come.
"Your senses are razor-sharp, your speed is extraordinary, and your reflexes are impeccable... It would truly be a waste to kill you outright," the masked man remarked, his voice carrying a note of genuine admiration.
In their earlier clash, Shisui had managed to evade what should have been a fatal blow. Even the initial sneak attack had failed, much to the masked man's surprise.
'His abilities rival those of my own sensei,' the man thought, grudgingly impressed.
If only his ideals aligned with mine, I would have recruited him into the Akatsuki—a formidable ally for realizing my plans.
Shisui's voice broke through the tense silence. "It's the Sharingan," he said, his tone resolute, his gaze unwavering. "No... it's the Mangekyō."
Suppressing the searing pain in his eyes and the weariness in his body, Shisui forced his eyes open. The pattern of a four-cornered windmill emerged, spinning within his irises, revealing the power of the Mangekyō Sharingan.
The masked man narrowed his gaze, assessing the strength behind those eyes.
"How long," he asked coldly, "can your vision... hold out?"
Shisui activated his Mangekyō Sharingan, but Obito remained composed. His opponent's condition was dire—exhausted and injured. Obito only needed to remain cautious of Shisui's eye techniques to gain the upper hand.
With a flick of his wrist, Obito shook the blood from his blade and charged at Shisui without hesitation, leaving his defenses down.
Swish!
Clang!
The two figures blurred past one another in a swift, deadly exchange.
Shisui staggered, clutching his injured left side, before abruptly covering his mouth as a violent cough overtook him.
"It's my lungs…" he muttered, his voice strained.
As he looked down, he felt the warmth of blood pooling in his palm. The light in his once-bright eyes dimmed, the weight of his injuries and the relentless exhaustion from using his Sharingan taking their toll. The ferocity of the confrontation had pushed his body to its limits.
"It seems I'll be acquiring a pair of Mangekyō Sharingan this time," Obito remarked, a trace of pride in his voice as he observed Shisui, coughing up blood and struggling to stay upright. Despite Danzo's relentless pursuit, Obito was confident that these prized eyes would ultimately belong to him.
A few more exchanges, and Shisui would crumble under the strain of his injuries and exhaustion.
"Madara, stop wasting time. Danzo's forces are already closing in on us!"
Obito's moment of triumph was interrupted by White Zetsu, who emerged from the shadows to deliver a pointed reminder. Though they had managed to locate Shisui first, Danzo's subordinates were numerous and quick to react. Time was slipping away.
"Madara?"
The mention of that name sent an uneasy ripple through Shisui's thoughts. It stirred troubling associations, but he pushed those aside. There were more immediate concerns demanding his focus.
In his current state, Shisui knew the situation was dire—he was on the verge of falling into his opponent's hands.
"It seems the only option left is to rely on my eyes for the next battle," he muttered to himself.
With his chakra nearly depleted, his body riddled with injuries, and Danzo's forces closing in, Shisui had no choice but to turn to his ocular powers. The opponent, much like Danzo, had been fixated on his eyes, making it the perfect opportunity to catch them off guard.
"Forget it. I was going to see if you had any last words," Obito remarked coldly. "But since time is short..."
Swish!
Before finishing his sentence, Obito lunged forward with another unrelenting attack, his movements swift and merciless.
"I'll take your eyes now!" Obito declared, his body partially concealed within the Kamui space. His right hand, gripping a blade, swept toward Shisui's waist, while his left hand reached once again for Shisui's shoulder.
If he could pull Shisui into the Kamui dimension, the prized Mangekyō Sharingan would finally be his.
Squelch!
The sound of a blade piercing flesh echoed in the stillness, followed by a series of strained, wet coughs from Shisui.
Cough, cough, cough!
As Shisui convulsed, a mouthful of dark crimson blood spilled from his lips, staining the ground beneath him.
It wasn't just his mouth—blood trickled from his eyes, forming crimson trails down his face as his once-bright spirit seemed to flicker and dim.
'What just happened?' Obito's thoughts raced as he tried to piece together the unexpected turn of events.
With his head lowered, Obito stared in disbelief at the ninja sword impaled in his chest, its tip piercing his heart. Blood poured from his mouth in thick, choking spurts. Struggling to lift his gaze, he turned his eyes toward Shisui, his expression clouded with confusion.
"Why... why did this happen to me?" he muttered hoarsely.
It made no sense. He was certain his blade was aimed at Shisui's heart—so how had it ended up piercing his own?
"This is my dōjutsu," Shisui replied, his voice strained as he turned to face Obito. His breath was labored, his injuries taking a visible toll. Yet his Mangekyō Sharingan glowed faintly, the unmistakable mark of his mastery.
"Dōjutsu...?" Obito echoed, the word tumbling out almost instinctively.
A bitter smile played on his lips. "It's... truly extraordinary."
Obito coughed, his breath rattling in his chest as blood continued to seep from his wound. Despite the dire situation, his mind churned, reflecting on the events that had unfolded and the strange, overwhelming power that had turned his actions against him.
Just as his ninja sword was about to pierce Shisui, a vivid memory surged into Obito's mind—the haunting image of Rin's death. Simultaneously, a wave of despair welled up in his heart, overwhelming his resolve.
In that fleeting moment, his blade turned against himself, aiming at his own chest, as if driven by an irresistible urge to join Rin in the afterlife.
"Hmm… ugh…"
Even now, that desire to surrender to death clung to him, compelling his hand to move, attempting a horizontal swing with the ninja sword.
"Manipulating another's will... What a terrifying power!"
Obito's gaze locked onto Shisui, his tone tinged with reluctant admiration. A scarlet light flickered in Obito's left eye beneath the mask before dimming entirely.
"You…"
As Obito reappeared before him, unharmed and seemingly untouched by the ordeal, Shisui's eyes widened in astonishment. The surprise quickly gave way to a grim expression, his face shadowed with unease.
"Izanagi!"
"Ah!" Obito let out a strained breath as his eyelids drooped slightly. "Thankfully, I had Izanagi prepared… Otherwise, I really would have died this time."
Touching his unscathed chest, Obito's wariness flared. He instinctively stepped back, widening the distance between himself and Shisui.
The Izanagi in his left eye was now spent. If Shisui's eye technique struck him again, there would be no escape this time.
"How cautious," Shisui muttered, observing Obito retreat. He could sense the looming peril of the encounter, fully aware that the odds were stacked against him.
Without sparing Obito another glance, Shisui pulled out a hemostatic spray, food pills, blood-replenishing pills, and bandages from his ninja tool bag. Calmly, he began treating his wounds, as though completely unbothered by Obito's presence.
It was an almost taunting display of composure, as if Shisui had dismissed the other man entirely.
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