Heikō Mu.

News of Susanoo's defeat and subsequent sealing had spread like wildfire throughout the divine realms, echoing in the ethereal halls where the gods of Japanese mythology resided. Among those who heard the news were Izanagi and Izanami, the primordial deities of creation, parents of Susanoo, Amaterasu, and Tsukuyomi. They were enraged by the humiliation their son had suffered. The dishonor brought to their lineage was unforgivable, especially at the hands of Heikō Mu—the God of all Shinobi, a being who, though incredibly powerful, was not of their pantheon.

Their divine domains quaked in unison as they prepared for confrontation. Izanagi, the embodiment of order and structure, summoned his celestial armor—scales of golden light hardened into plates, while the legendary Totsuka-no-Tsurugi, a sword of pure divine energy, materialized in his grasp. Izanami, the goddess of death and creation, cloaked herself in shadows and summoned Yomi's Black Fire, a force so potent that it could consume even the soul.

Together, the husband and wife descended from their heavenly thrones, their power resonating through the universe. They were not to be underestimated. Though bound to the myths of Japan, they wielded cosmic power that rivaled the greatest of gods. They had birthed a pantheon and shaped the land of mortals, and now, they would face Heikō Mu, the one who had humiliated their blood.

Heikō Mu stood alone, his serene expression masking the turbulent thoughts that had begun to swirl inside his mind. The shinobi he ruled over remained calm, confident that their God, who had defeated Susanoo, would easily handle whatever came next. But this time, the threat was not a single rebellious god—it was a united force of creation.

Suddenly, the sky split apart, revealing a tear in the fabric of reality. Izanagi and Izanami emerged, their combined aura like a tidal wave that threatened to crush the very earth beneath them. The heavens wept, and the ground trembled as the two gods floated to face Heikō. There was no discussion, no warning—the battle began instantly, with a fury that rivaled the primordial chaos from which the universe had sprung.

Izanagi's sword struck first, a flash of divine light cleaving through the air as he descended upon Heikō. The God of Shinobi raised his arm, summoning the Divine Mirror Technique, a shield of reflective energy that absorbed and redirected the blow. But the power of the creator god was immense; Heikō staggered back, his feet dragging lines across the earth. The weight of Izanagi's strike sent shockwaves through the landscape, ripping apart the earth in massive fissures.

Izanami followed immediately, her shadows rising like a tidal wave. A swarm of cursed flames, tendrils of darkness, and the whispers of Yomi enveloped Heikō, seeking to consume his very essence. Heikō moved with unparalleled speed, his body blurring as he weaved through the onslaught. With a single hand sign, he called forth a torrent of wind, dispersing the flames and striking at the darkness. But the relentless onslaught did not cease. Izanami's fury was unending, and her attacks only grew more desperate and vicious, as if seeking vengeance for more than just her son's defeat.

Within moments, Heikō was on the defensive, forced to dodge and parry as the two creator deities pressed him. Even with all his mastery over shinobi arts, their combined might began to push him to his limits. Every clash of Izanagi's sword against his defenses left him reeling, and every shadowed strike from Izanami brought him closer to the edge. Heikō, for the first time in centuries, felt his control slip, his calm exterior cracking under the sheer power of two gods who had created a pantheon.

Pinned down, his breath coming in labored gasps, Heikō's eyes narrowed. He realized that he had underestimated them—these were not mere vengeful gods. They were creators, wielding the primal forces that shaped life and death, and they were pushing him to his knees. A torrent of divine energy struck him square in the chest, sending him crashing to the ground. The very earth shook with the impact, and for a brief moment, the God of Shinobi seemed defeated.

Then he rose.

His expression was different—no longer calm or serene. There was a darkness in his gaze, a deep, terrifying power that simmered just beneath the surface. In that moment, Heikō made a decision, one that he had hoped to never make. He had to draw upon the part of himself that he feared most. With a single, deep breath, he allowed the boundaries of his own power to blur, and released a fraction of the being that lay dormant inside him.

"Fukushū Yū," he whispered. The very name seemed to hang in the air like a storm cloud.

From deep within, a surge of malevolent energy erupted—20% of Fukushū Yū's power, barely a fraction, but it was enough to shift the entire balance of the battle. Heikō's form darkened, his eyes blazing with a fierce, unrestrained fury. A black aura of oppressive energy spread from him, swallowing the light around him, and the very air became thick with the essence of vengeance.

Izanagi and Izanami hesitated, feeling the shift, sensing the terrifying presence that had emerged. For the first time, they faltered. Heikō moved, his body blurring with a speed that even they could not follow. In an instant, he was upon them—a relentless storm of strikes, parries, and techniques that seemed to draw from every corner of existence.

Heikō's attacks were no longer precise and controlled; they were ruthless, fueled by a darkness that burned with an intense desire for domination. The creator deities, for all their power, began to struggle. Izanagi's sword, once a beacon of light, was shattered by a single, devastating blow from Heikō's empowered fist. Izanami's flames, capable of consuming souls, were dispersed by a wave of Heikō's darkened chakra, twisted by Fukushū Yū's influence.

The battle became one-sided. Izanagi and Izanami, for all their efforts, were forced back, each of their attacks met with overwhelming force. The ground beneath them cracked and buckled, reality itself seeming to bend under the weight of Heikō's unleashed power.

"Enough!" Izanagi roared, his voice cracking like thunder.

But Heikō did not stop. He advanced, pressing them harder, forcing them back with an intensity that defied reason. The creator gods, in a desperate attempt, combined their powers, calling forth a torrent of creation energy that surged toward Heikō in a blinding flash of white.

Heikō stood firm, his eyes glowing with the malevolent light of Fukushū Yū. He raised his hand, and with a single gesture, absorbed the attack into the dark void of his power. Then, with a dismissive wave, he released the energy back at them, amplified tenfold.

The explosion rocked the landscape, a shockwave that tore through dimensions, and Izanagi and Izanami were hurled backward, collapsing in the dust. Heikō's aura began to fade as he regained control, the darkness receding back into the depths of his being.

Izanagi and Izanami lay defeated, their divine forms battered and weakened. Heikō approached them, his face once more calm, his power once again contained. He looked down at the gods of creation, and for a moment, there was a glimmer of pity in his eyes.

"Leave," he said quietly, his voice firm but not unkind. "This conflict is over."

The creators, humbled and shaken, rose to their feet. They knew they had been bested, not by a god of creation, but by a god whose very essence embodied the potential of all shinobi—a force that, in its purest form, surpassed even the gods of creation themselves.

Without another word, Izanagi and Izanami retreated, vanishing into the realms of the divine. They had learned a harsh lesson: Heikō Mu was not to be underestimated, and the darkness that lay within him was far more terrifying than any they had ever faced.

As they departed, Heikō stood alone, the echoes of the battle still resonating in the air. He knew that this was only the beginning, that Fukushū Yū's power was something he had to control—or risk becoming the very thing he feared. For now, the threat had passed, but a deeper, darker struggle lay on the horizon.

Heikō's eyes, for a moment, lingered on the spot where the gods had vanished, and then he turned, walking away into the shadows, his thoughts heavy with the weight of what had just occurred.