Ishiki Kujo stared at Danzo standing before him, a quiet sigh stirring in his chest.
A flick of bioelectricity danced down his finger. Without sound, his Stand materialized—Survivor—its form rippling silently into existence beneath their feet.
He'd had a hunch the moment he returned. He hadn't expected it to manifest this fast.
"On what grounds?" Ishiki's eyes widened in feigned protest. "I demand to speak with the Hokage. Even if you want to probe my memories, it should be done by the ANBU."
He might as well have shouted, "I don't trust you. I don't trust Root."
Danzo hated that kind of talk. He grunted coldly. "You have no right to choose. Once—"
His words froze mid-sentence. His expression grew darker, and his voice dropped into a guttural growl. "Brat… this isn't up to you. As the leader of Root, I have the authority to deal with you personally."
At that moment, the office door creaked open. Two Root operatives stepped in, ready to drag Ishiki away.
"Hold it." Danzo's eyes flickered with rising bloodlust. The longer he looked at Ishiki, the more something deep inside twisted and snarled.
He stood—no cane, no restraint—each step toward Ishiki heavier than the last.
That fast? Ishiki mused, marveling. Didn't expect Survivor to kick in so quickly.
But before the thought fully formed, one of the masked operatives muttered with open irritation, "Damn geezer, always dragging things out."
"You talking about me?" Danzo's voice dropped to a venomous hush, eyes twitching.
That damn brat. No one talks to me like that. No one. I'll make an example out of him—I'll—
Danzo blinked. Wait… what's happening? Why am I so furious? No… this isn't just anger. It's… the urge to fight.
"You heard me. I said you're a relic, old man." The Root ninja's voice was laced with challenge now, defiance bubbling out—Survivor's influence surging through him first.
But he barely finished the sentence before a massive fist slammed into his face.
Boom. No chakra, no trickery—just raw, unrefined taijutsu. And it worked.
The punch shattered his mask and hurled him backward, crashing into the office wall with a sickening crunch. Blood trickled from his mouth as he yanked off what remained of the mask, revealing a face twisted in fury.
"Damn it! Always one of you barking mutts trying to look tough. I'll show you what real taijutsu looks like, and why Konoha's weak-ass martial arts are trash!"
He wiped the blood from his chin and lunged at the operative who'd hit him.
But he didn't make it.
Danzo moved faster.
He appeared mid-path, grabbed the attacker's head, and slammed it into the floor with enough force to crack stone.
The room had turned to chaos. It all happened too fast for anyone to understand.
Danzo, crouched over the pinned operative, suddenly looked up at Ishiki, a snarl on his lips. "This is your doing. You triggered this!"
And now—something was wrong.
Danzo's vision shifted. He wasn't just seeing Ishiki… he was seeing through him. His clothes, his muscle tone, even the chakra flow underneath.
He'd already tried several genjutsu dispels. Useless.
The only thought echoing in his skull now was this: I want to destroy this brat.
"You wrinkled fossil! You're blaming me now?" Ishiki didn't flinch. He dropped into a fighting stance, eyes burning.
Before he could speak again, another Root agent lunged—this one swinging a brutal fist toward his jaw.
But Ishiki had been waiting for it.
He blocked, arms crossed—but the impact hurt. Real strength. Raw, animal strength.
And Ishiki smirked.
Boom!
The punch sent him flying backward, crashing through the wooden office door, which splintered into kindling under the blow. He tumbled out in a blur.
As he flew through the air, Ishiki sensed chakra signatures converging on the room. Noise always drew shinobi.
In midair, just before colliding with the far wall, Ishiki's fingers blurred through a rapid sequence of hand seals.
Water Style: Water Dragon Bullet!
Chakra surged to his throat. He spat—and from his mouth, three massive water dragons roared forward, expanding as they raced toward the office.
But someone beat them there.
A blur of motion, faster than the dragons. Fists flying in rapid succession—bam, bam, bam!—and all three water dragons exploded in mid-air, torn apart by sheer taijutsu.
Danzo.
He stood where the dragons had aimed, fists steaming from impact, wild-eyed. His earlier scheming expression was gone—replaced by pure battle-lust.
Nothing else filled his mind now. He was going to break that boy.
And if anyone got in the way? They'd break too.
His twisted grin stretched wider than it had in years. Chakra surged through his old muscles, rejuvenated by Survivor's effect. His movements grew sharper, faster.
In the blink of an eye, he was already on Ishiki again.
Ishiki had expected Survivor to spread. He just hadn't expected Danzo to lose his mind this quickly.
Most of his understanding came from anime. It wasn't like he could go around testing the Stand on people in real life. He'd figured most people could at least resist the battle lust a little—long enough for it to explode later, once he was safely imprisoned and away from the blast zone.
That was the plan.
But this? This might be better.
Crash!
Danzo's punch embedded Ishiki in the wall. The old bastard hit like a hammer. His taijutsu—brutal, unpolished—was the real deal.
"Danzo-sama!" Root agents rushed forward.
But Danzo's eyes were bloodshot, wild. In his vision, Ishiki's body still glimmered with radiant, unscathed muscle fibers—like his strike hadn't even left a dent.
So this was Joestar taijutsu?
Not bad.
Danzo snarled and surged forward again, body trembling with adrenaline.
And around them, things were unraveling.
Other Root agents were twitching. Glancing at each other with thinly veiled hostility.
No one noticed the yellow, disk-like Stands crawling from the pools of water left behind by the shattered dragons. Each bore twisted gremlin faces, emotionless but sparking—tiny jolts of electricity slithering into the limbs of every Root operative nearby.
Survivor—the most dangerous Stand. Not because of what it did directly. But because it made everyone else lose their minds.
Back in his private office, the Third Hokage sipped tea in rare peace—when he suddenly turned toward the direction of the Hokage Monument.
A column of black smoke was rising from the district.
What the hell just happened?