Naruto: I'm Really Not an Evil Uchiha!

"Minato-sensei, doesn't the Land of Demons have a so-called shrine maiden?"

Kakashi sidestepped the oncoming dragon-like tendril. The dense black mist smashed into the nearby buildings, reducing them to rubble.

If it struck a mere mortal body, Kakashi guessed he'd be crushed to pieces.

"We need to buy more time," Minato Namikaze said, glancing toward the shrine with a heavy expression.

Repeated use of the Flying Thunder God Technique to evade was severely draining his chakra.

"Shuriken Shadow Clone Jutsu!"

As Minato contemplated, Mōryō's attack came crashing down. Snapping back to attention, he hurled a giant shuriken into the air.

The shuriken spun briefly before transforming into countless smaller shurikens, resembling a barrage of needles piercing toward the black mist.

Swish, swish!

The blue shurikens embedded themselves into the tendrils, but moments later, the viscous black mist began to regenerate, filling the countless tiny holes left behind.

"Ordinary ninjutsu is useless against Mōryō," Minato concluded.

He had attempted various ninjutsu, from elemental jutsu to techniques that used physical mediums like the one just now.

None of them worked. At most, they caused slight delays.

But when Minato glanced at Kakashi, still fighting Mōryō, and Shimizu, constantly evading, he couldn't bring himself to give up.

Everyone was doing their best—how could he do otherwise?

Summoning his resolve, Minato pushed himself to his limits, squeezing out every ounce of chakra to unleash more techniques.

Near the shrine, just outside the battlefield, Shimizu gazed into the distance.

Mōryō was advancing steadily toward them. Despite the combined efforts of Minato, Kakashi, and Shimizu's shadow clones to delay him, they couldn't halt his progress—merely slow him down.

"Ugh—cough!"

After hurriedly wolfing down her meal, Miroku choked on a sudden shockwave.

The meal delivery had been comprehensive, but the village maiden Miroku nearly couldn't keep the milk from spilling from the corners of her mouth, droplets trickling down her chin.

"Swallow it," Shimizu said flatly.

If there was one thing Shimizu couldn't tolerate, it was wastefulness. Finishing one's plate was his guiding principle.

Not a drop of milk, not a sip of water, should be wasted. These were highly nutritious essentials.

"Cough… cough…"

In her ears, she could still hear the cries of her people calling, "Lady Priestess…"

Miroku's eyes reddened as she fought back tears, forcing herself to swallow and wiping her mouth clean.

She didn't like milk—not everyone had a good tolerance for it.

Some people were simply lactose intolerant.

"Are you done?" Shimizu asked.

Miroku shot him a resentful glare.

He was the first person who dared treat her, a shrine maiden, this way.

She had already begun plotting how to exact her revenge on him afterward to vent her frustration.

But as she rose and turned to face Mōryō, who was closing in, a sense of hesitation crept in.

The priestesses of past generations had always paid the price of their lives to seal Mōryō.

She was no exception. Any thoughts of revenge against Shimizu might just be wishful thinking—after all, she was about to die.

"Break the barrier," Miroku said, quickly suppressing her emotions and adopting a determined demeanor.

"Of course, my Lady Priestess," Shimizu replied, snapping his fingers.

The nearly invisible barrier shattered like glass, breaking with a sharp crack.

Miroku stepped forward onto the balcony, her figure fully revealed.

Draped in sacred robes and wearing a ceremonial crown, her solemn expression inspired a sense of calm in those who saw her. It was as if her mere presence would bring an end to all chaos.

"She's here! The shrine maiden has appeared!"

"Finally! We're saved!"

On the mountains in the distance, the villagers saw the glint of the priestess's robes under the setting sun. Their faces lit up with joy as they strained to catch a better view, anticipating the moment she would unleash her power and seal Mōryō.

"Priestess!!!"

At that moment, a furious roar of malice erupted from Mōryō, shaking the heavens.

He was now less than 200 meters from the shrine.

The crowd gathered near the base of the mountain had already been escorted to safety by the guards.

At the shrine itself, only a few guards remained stationed at the entrance.

From his vantage point, Mōryō spotted Miroku standing on the second-floor balcony of the shrine. Feeling the nauseating chakra of the shrine maiden, his rage boiled over once more.

For a thousand years, the priestesses had sealed him repeatedly, confining him to an eternal, lightless prison. His hatred for them had long since reached its peak.

He wanted to destroy the Five Great Nations and establish a millennium-long empire of darkness.

The only thing standing in his way was the shrine maiden.

She had to die. Once he reclaimed his true body, nothing could stop him.

"No… stop…"

From within the dragon's head, the "daimyō" fused with Mōryō's body regained a flicker of clarity. His crimson eyes struggled to reclaim some control as he dragged his massive dragon body forward unsteadily.

Minato and the others noticed Mōryō's erratic movements and Miroku's emergence.

Relief swept over them—it was finally the shrine maiden's turn to act.

Their current methods had proven ineffective against Mōryō's regenerative abilities.

"Minato-sensei, let me assist the Lady Priestess. You and Kakashi should rest," Shimizu's shadow clone suddenly said.

Minato hesitated for a moment before nodding.

"Alright."

He glanced at Kakashi, who bore several fresh wounds from attacks he couldn't evade. Meanwhile, Shimizu's robes remained immaculate, thanks to his mysterious, swift Fire Release Body Flicker Technique—nearly as effective as the Flying Thunder God Technique but far less chakra-intensive.

Minato had marked Shimizu's tool pouch with the Flying Thunder God seal. If Shimizu and the priestess encountered any danger, he could teleport to them instantly.

Exhaling slightly, Minato acknowledged that his chakra reserves were nearly depleted after the prolonged fight.

The shadow clone nodded and, with a burst of flame beneath its feet, vanished into the shrine's second floor in a flash.

Poof.

The shadow clone dispersed into smoke, and from the depths of the shrine, the real Shimizu emerged, feigning the effects of an overly dramatic entrance.

"Why… is he… here?"

From atop the high dragon's head, the daimyō's scarlet eyes, nearly blinded by hatred, spotted Shimizu.

His vantage point offered a clear view of the shrine's interior, where a second Shimizu had been lingering. When the "outside Shimizu" entered, it disappeared.

Rumble…

The black mist around Mōryō ignited like purple-black flames as his colossal form closed within 30 meters of the shrine.

At this distance, he could practically lock eyes with Miroku.

The daimyō, in his fused state, caught a faint scent of oleander.

Through his enhanced vision, he noticed something peculiar: a single, short, curved strand of hair at the corner of Miroku's mouth.

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