Osamu could already sense Pain’s Chakra.
Speaking of which, this could be considered the bitter seed planted by Danzo years ago, finally bearing poisonous fruit.
If he hadn’t instigated Hanzo of the Salamander, leader of the Rain Ninja, to act against the newly emerging Akatsuki back then, if Yahiko hadn’t died, and if Nagato hadn’t twisted his concept of peace, this calamity destroying Konoha might never have come to pass.
Even as an ambitionist, Danzo was utterly incompetent.
Either be thoroughly malicious—rooting out everything completely without leaving behind any future trouble, thereby establishing a tied interest with Hanzo of the Salamander and turning the Land of Rain into a strategic outpost for the Land of Fire against the Land of Wind and Land of Earth.
Or utilize Akatsuki while it was still a peaceful organization.
With a peaceful faction whose influence could rival the local ruler, composed of naive and kindhearted youths, all it would take was approaching them behind a benevolent mask.
With minimal effort and investment, the addled Hanzo of the Salamander would lose his absolute reign over the Land of Rain, drastically reducing the threat the Land of Rain posed to the Land of Fire.
Yet Danzo simply concluded his operation as if on a whim, gaining no real benefit nor arranging any follow-up.
Foolish.
So, it was time to pay the price for that foolishness.
Osamu turned, intending to follow the plot in his memories and head to the Hokage Residence to stop Tsunade from blurting out words in a fit of emotion that would enrage the enemy.
Just as he was about to step forward, he paused for a moment and turned his head back, looking at the Root ninja who were still kneeling on one knee behind him.
There was no need for these living weapons to wait here for a master who was destined never to return.
Ah, right.
Osamu pulled out his right arm, which had been tucked inside his clothing.
“You…
the strongest eleven…
no, twelve among you, step forward.” Without him needing to say another word, twelve figures stepped out from the group, lined up in two rows before Osamu, and silently knelt back down.
“Have all medical ninja come here.” In less than a minute, several figures dressed in white robes appeared behind Osamu.
Osamu calmly unravelled the bandages on his right arm, revealing the eleven Three-Tomoe Sharingan embedded there.
Following the edges of each Sharingan with his fingers, he gouged them out one by one and dropped them into the vessels held by the medical ninja.
Finally, he lifted the bandage over his right eye and gouged out the Sharingan that belonged to Shisui Uchiha.
Blood streamed down.
The intense agony would crush any ordinary person, but Osamu was long accustomed to continuous pain, calmly completing this act of self-mutilation.
“Choose for yourselves whether you wish to implant the Sharingan,” Osamu said, unsure if doing this would quickly boost their strength—perhaps they would only die faster on the battlefield due to the Sharingan draining excessive Chakra.
“If anyone chooses not to, pass the opportunity down according to rank.” He wasn’t a ninja with combat experience anyway, so he would leave it to them to decide.
He was seeking Pain merely to die; having these Sharingan on his body served no purpose.
Osamu wasn’t worried about whether anyone would prove incompatible with the Sharingan.
In the original series, the Sharingan functioned like lightbulbs with universal adapters—plucked out and plugged in at will.
“After this, all of you mobilize.
Go outside and help the others,” Osamu said in a calm tone.
“This is my final mission for you.” A slight commotion broke out among the kneeling ninja below, but Osamu had already turned away.
“When the battle ends…
Tsunade should come here.
Follow her arrangements when that time comes.” Before his voice had fully faded, Osamu had left Root.
Outside was already in total chaos.
Looking down from Hokage Rock, one could see summoned beasts rampaging all across Konoha.
Osamu cast a calm glance downward without slowing his pace.
A foolish ambitionist, dense politicians, an ignorant village, and a world that left people no way to survive.
He had no interest in lingering here any longer.
He didn’t belong here to begin with; he wanted no vessel stained with blood, no desire to breathe unfamiliar air, speak an unfamiliar tongue, or face unfamiliar faces.
This was not the soil in which he could live.
Finally, Osamu arrived at the Hokage Residence.
At that exact moment, Tsunade had already raised her hand toward Pain’s departing back.
Just as the words “We great nations suffer pain as well” escaped her lips, a hand reached out to stop her.
Tsunade turned her head in shock, meeting the sight of Danzo Shimura—his bandages in disarray and half his face covered in blood.
“Elder Danzo—” “Ignorant arrogance is a sign of immaturity, Tsunade-hime.” Osamu calmly glanced at the Fifth Hokage, who was in truth ill-suited to be a leader, then turned around to face Pain, whose aura had turned cold and stagnant.
Pain’s indignation, which had been on the verge of erupting because of Tsunade’s words, was broken by Danzo’s sudden appearance.
He turned around to stare at this battered, expressionless man.
Looking at the naive, terrifying idealist before him who thought threatening the entire world with nuclear warheads could secure peace, Osamu felt only deep weariness.
“Of course, I am far from mature myself.” “And the same goes for you, Nagato.
Oversimplifying every issue, defining the fundamental logic of the world on a whim, and placing your own ideals above the people struggling to survive in reality—compared to Tsunade, your arrogance is far more repulsive.”