Chapter 63 — "Nagato is Defeated! I, Uchiha Yujiro, Am Invincible!"
"Heh… heh-heh-heh… heh-heh-heh—HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
Uchiha Yujiro dropped both of his shattered blades.
One hand pressed against his forehead, head tilted back, and from deep within his chest burst a mad, victorious laugh—
wild, unrestrained, and villainous as hell.
He didn't even need to strike a JoJo pose this time.
Just that laugh alone was enough to make anyone who heard it think—
"Yep. This guy's completely insane."
And they wouldn't be wrong.
But victory is victory.
Winners don't get judged.
Besides, there was another reason Yujiro laughed so hard:
it hurt like hell.
He had burned through every drop of chakra in his body,
his muscles torn, his nerves screaming—
it felt like dating a hundred thousand yandere girlfriends,
each taking turns to drain your soul and still not satisfied after three sleepless nights.
The pain was indescribable.
If not for the hysterical laughter masking it,
Uchiha Yujiro would probably be crying like a toddler who just stubbed his toe.
---
"Yujiro…"
"Yujiro-kun…"
"Nagato—!!!"
Three voices reached him through the smoke and rain.
The first two—Tsunade and Orochimaru,
calling out to the young shinobi who had just felled a god.
The third—Jiraiya, crying out for his fallen student.
---
Nagato's Twin Shinra Tensei had collapsed under the weight of Yujiro's twenty-fivefold Lightning Flame Sword Dance.
The moment Nagato fell,
his Paths of Pain froze in place—lifeless puppets without their master's strings.
With the battle over, the Three Sannin wasted no time.
They raced across the ruined battlefield,
arriving just in time to witness the aftermath:
Uchiha Yujiro standing tall, laughing like a mad god,
and the corpse of Uzumaki Nagato lying motionless before him.
---
Orochimaru was the first to speak,
his golden eyes narrowing with analytical curiosity.
"Yujiro-kun's power… it far exceeds my expectations.
Is this what they call the terrifying potential of youth?"
He had never fought Nagato himself,
but he had heard plenty from Yujiro—
about the Rinnegan, about the Six Paths of Pain,
about the sheer absurdity of Nagato's power.
A man who mastered every Path of Pain,
who could destroy a village with a single technique—
and yet, here he lay,
defeated head-on, without suspense.
"Perhaps," Orochimaru mused aloud,
"it's time I reconsider my attitude toward him."
Practical as ever, Orochimaru didn't bother with ego.
No conflict of interest, no target for his reincarnation plans—
then so be it.
Let the boy rise.
He'd adapt accordingly.
---
As for Tsunade, her reaction was… complicated.
When Yujiro's twenty-fivefold Lightning Sword cleaved through Nagato,
the resulting blood explosion was enough to trigger her hemophobia.
Her vision blurred.
Her heartbeat spiked.
But before she could spiral—
something soft and heavy collapsed into her arms.
Warm breath brushed against her neck.
The weight against her chest was firm but fragile.
Yujiro.
Of course.
The bastard knew when to retreat.
He'd already done his job.
The second the others arrived, he dropped the act—
and dropped himself.
---
One moment, he was the mad god of lightning and flame.
The next, he was an exhausted boy falling gently into Tsunade's embrace.
And to be honest—
it felt amazing.
Like sinking into a cloud made of silk and perfume.
Soft. Warm. Safe.
For a moment, Yujiro forgot the pain,
his mind floating in blissful numbness.
---
"Yujiro-kun?"
Tsunade blinked, startled but gentle.
Unlike some arrogant noble girls who'd punch a guy on instinct,
Tsunade wasn't that kind of woman.
Yujiro looked half-dead in her arms—
and despite her tough façade, she was a medic first.
She held him firmly,
her voice trembling as she activated Mystic Palm Technique at full power.
Chakra flowed from her hands into his broken body,
mending torn muscles and sealing ruptured vessels.
---
And yet—
as she watched that battered, beautiful face so close to hers,
the boy's lashes fluttering weakly,
something inside Tsunade clicked.
Even through her fear of blood,
even through the shaking of her hands—
she refused to stop.
"Don't worry," she whispered, her voice trembling.
"I won't let you die. I'll save you—no matter what."
Her eyes glistened, her will unbreakable.
And in that moment—
something stirred within her that hadn't in years.
Not duty.
Not nostalgia.
But something warmer, stronger.
A spark.
---
And as Uchiha Yujiro rested in her arms,
half-conscious but smiling faintly,
he thought to himself:
"Not a bad way to win, huh?"
Of course Uchiha Yujiro noticed it—
the trembling in her voice, the warmth in her touch, the chaos behind Tsunade's golden eyes.
He had originally assumed that "winning over" Tsunade—the so-called Konoha Macron Achievement—would take months of strategic charm and patience.
But with this sudden turn of fate…
It seemed his progress bar just jumped straight to 90%.
Now or never.
"Tsunade… you're so beautiful," he murmured, voice weak and low.
In truth, he was already recovering fast.
But he made sure to act like he was on death's door—eyes half-lidded, lips pale, his expression that perfect blend of handsome, tragic, and noble.
He trembled slightly as he reached out, as if using the last of his strength,
his fingertips brushing toward her cheek.
"Don't speak," Tsunade whispered, her voice soft and unsteady.
"Save your strength."
Her hand—warm, calloused, trembling—caught his.
Then, to his surprise, she guided his hand to her face,
pressing it gently against her skin.
For a moment, the air itself seemed to stop.
---
Standing nearby, Orochimaru's eyes narrowed like a hawk's.
He could see it clearly:
Yujiro's chakra flow was stabilizing, his pulse already stronger.
The kid was recovering fast—too fast.
In other words, Tsunade's desperate healing… might be a little overkill.
Still, Orochimaru cleared his throat.
"Ahem… well—"
"Cough—cough—cough—cough—"
Yujiro seized the moment, letting out a dramatic coughing fit that echoed through the clearing.
Between those coughs, his eyes met Orochimaru's.
And in that single exchange, a silent pact was formed.
Orochimaru sighed, turned away, and pretended to admire the scenery.
---
Yujiro looked back at Tsunade, his face pale, his voice trembling with emotion.
"No… I have to say this, Tsunade.
The truth is—I've admired you for a long, long time."
"Don't," she whispered, shaking her head. "Save your breath…"
"Your strength… your grace…" Yujiro's voice wavered, yet his words hit deep.
"Every time I see you fight, my heart starts racing."
"I told you not to say that…" Her voice broke, the edge of tears lacing her tone.
"These feelings," he continued softly, "I've buried them for so long.
But if I don't say it now, I might never get the chance again."
"Yujiro-kun…" Tsunade's voice trembled, her eyes wet, her lips parting just slightly.
"I love you," he breathed. "Would you… go out with me?"
Her tears finally fell.
In that fragile, blood-stained dusk—
her heart, hardened by years of grief and war, quietly melted.
"…Mm."
Her answer was small, barely audible, but it carried everything.
"That's… wonderful," Yujiro whispered.
Then his eyes fluttered closed, his head drooping gently against her chest.
He went still.
---
"Y-Yujiro!?"
Tsunade froze—then panic struck.
Her heartbeat surged as she clutched him tighter, sobbing uncontrollably.
Her tears fell on his face as she cried out his name again and again,
her voice breaking between words.
To her, it was as if she'd lost everything—
a lover, a brother, and a comrade—all over again.
---
Orochimaru, meanwhile, stood to the side with his usual deadpan expression.
"Ahem… Tsunade."
They'd agreed, he and Yujiro—no interruptions.
But even for him, this was getting a little… much.
"Look, uh… is there any chance he's just fainted?"
"Eh?"
Tsunade blinked, stunned, her teary gaze snapping toward Orochimaru.
Her golden eyes flared dangerously—
red-level danger imminent.
But before she could erupt, Orochimaru quickly added:
"I mean, look over there instead. That one's actually dying."
---
"Ah! NAGATO!!!"
Tsunade turned instantly—
and saw Jiraiya kneeling on the ground,
cradling the limp, bleeding body of his former student.
"No, no, no—Nagato! You can't die on me!!!"
Jiraiya's voice cracked as he pressed his hands to the wound,
his face twisted in anguish.
Yujiro's strike had been precise—
deadly, but deliberately aimed to avoid Nagato's vital organs.
Still, the man was fading fast.
Even with Katsuyu splitting and crawling over his wounds,
it wouldn't be enough unless Tsunade stepped in.
---
"Tch."
With one last glance at the "unconscious" Yujiro in her arms,
Tsunade grit her teeth, steeling herself.
Duty first.
But deep inside, her heart whispered—
Please… don't let that boy die on me too.
-