The Pantheon of Nine

By: Finn Mertenz

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN NARUTO. I DO NOT CLAIM TO OWN NARUTO.


Chapter 129: Twin Snakes Revealed! I am... A Sage.

Saturday 9:32pm, September 12th 58SSP.

"My, my... Your tolerance is resilient as ever." Jiraiya chugged some Saké.

Early in the night, a pair of Sanin sat inside the ground floor of Zunoki's inn. Resting in Bamboo Village, it was a homely welcome to the Land of Hot Springs, closely bordering the Land of Sound.

Stacking empty cups onto a neat pile, Jiraiya slouched against a wooden booth. Seated on the opposite side, a drunken Tsunade leaned with blushing cheeks, allowing her massive chest to hang.

"This isn't a time to joke." Tsunade spat.

Word had traveled far and wide, heralding a chain reaction throughout the shinobi world. After a startling assault on Kiri, neighboring nations blamed Konoha, only for the Akatsuki to intervene.

Instigating violence, infiltrating villages and kidnapping ninja, the Akatsuki worked. Shifting focus away from Konoha, even the Land of Fire was ravaged by their clouded organization.

"If the Akatsuki aren't stopped soon, It really will lead to war..." She slurred with slow lips.

With an opened entrance behind them, these Sanin giggled and drank like teenagers. Stroking a stern jaw with his sole remaining arm, a left hand engulfed by a leaf-green gauntlet.

Mischievously sipping a cup of Saké, Jiraiya's cheeks were as pink as Sakura's hair. But, these childish antics were quickly replaced by a veteran glare, noticing a tense shift in the night sky.


Ten minutes later.

Snoring aloud, Konohamaru was stretched and spread across a cushioned mattress. Naked legs and curled arms protruded from grey covers, basked by stray beams of moonlight.

Cuddling and cradling, Konohamaru was nuzzled by an acrylic beak of blackened ash. Illuminated by a violet aura, this lingering glow radiated from Shisui's right eye, a pristine Rinnegan.

While Konohamaru slept, he shared a small room with Menma, twice his young age. Oblivious to the constant gaze of their sensei, Jiraiya watched through an unlatched window.

Peeling the sealed sticker of a to-go-ramen, Jiraiya imported this meal from Konoha itself. Prepared and sautéed at Ichiraku's Ramen Stand, it was layered with pork and eggs, Iruka's favorite.

"It's a lovely night." Jiraiya perched atop the ledge of a roof.

Offering this free meal, it was silently snagged by Naruto, slurping a mouthful of broth. Vigorously inhaling, floured noodles and roasted pork was stuffed down his throat, joyfully swallowing.

"Just like the old days." The Sanin smiled.

Eating like the conjoined depiction of a father and son, they were both loyal to Konoha. But loyalty had many definitions, different aspects and separate ideals, all with the same goal.

Throughout recent months and dreary weeks, much had changed inside the shinobi world. However, one constant factor was the hatred and conflict that ninja instilled, no matter the era.

"Ya'know... Minato and I used to sit like this." Jiraiya guzzled.

The grand secret, an orchestrated curtain since his birth, Naruto was the son of the 4th Hokage. Estranged on the night of Kurama's attack, the nine tailed fox killed both his parents.

Orphaned by the same demon that inhabited his young body, Naruto was possessed. Infused with an ancient spirit, this primordial essence was full of hate and disgust, enamored by taint.

"That's not the life for me." Naruto muttered.

And he was right, Naruto's destiny took a path that diverged from most, a lonely road. This wasn't the reality that Iruka left for him, the expectation of a peaceful life, devoid of war.

"None of us wanted this to happen, especially me." Jiraiya stroked his chin.

An elderly man, a veteran and a sage, Jiraiya held many prominent titles and degrees. Approaching his 59th birthday, he experienced all three of the great shinobi wars. a lifetime of battle.

Because of this extensive background, Jiraiya dreamed of a redeeming goal, a final achievement. He wanted to find the Child of Prophecy, a student that would bring great change, or terrible destruction.

This was the fate spoken by Gamamaru, the Great Toad Sage of Mount Myōboku. Foretold beyond ages past, this was preordained, handed down from the Sage of Six Paths himself.

"There's been so much hatred in this world... And I always wanted to do something about it." He used an identical tone to Iruka.

-Flashback-

"Oh man... This is gonna be sweet." Obito giggled.

Just past his 13th birthday, this vibrant Uchiha was a Genin from the Land of Fire. Living at the height of the 3rd Shinobi War, he was a child warrior, an innocent ninja playing solider,

"We'll get caught." Kakashi cut in.

The most decorated member of his squad, Kakashi was 12 years old, a Chunin for his nation. He was also the distinguished son of Sakumo Hatake, the iconic White Fang of Konoha.

Dressed in conflicting attire, Kakashi wore a blue bodysuit with a leaf-green flak jacket. While Obito was adorned in a long-sleeved blue sweater and matching pants, sewn with the Uchiha symbol.

Using orange goggles to enhance each eye, Obito was crouched in front of a small window. Acting on a mischievous urge, this Uchiha traveled to the Konoha hot springs with his bestfriend.

"It'll be worth it!" Obito beamed.

Working together like the team they were, Obito and Kakashi strived to spy on Rin. Looking to peek and glance at her naked outline, their eyes frantically searched through misty air.

Startled by outstretched hands, these youthful shinobi were pinched by their ears. Dampened by the snickering laughter of Jiraiya, this boisterous ninja was 44 years old with a head of white hair.

"Ya'know... You two remind me a little of myself." Jiraiya chuckled.

A student of Hiruzen, the sensei of Minato and a sage of Mount Myōboku, Jiraiya was renown. This rigid reputation was only a fraction of the truth, a piece of the pie that maintained his personality.

"Don't tell Minato! He'll kill us!" Obito gnawed at his nails.

Living daily routines in a period of conflict, Obito sought any excuse to garnish attention. But, their was one person he strived to attract, the auburn eyed glare of Rin Nohara.


Thirty minutes later.

"This is cruel." Obito murmured.

Sharing the same exhausted expression as Kakashi, these teammates resembled brothers. Bowing to Jiraiya's antics, they were draped in frog green jumpsuits with webbed gloves.

Forever strapped against his face, Obito's orange-tinted goggles remained prevalent. Concealing the only visible portion of his body, black eyes were shrouded with a carrot-colored veil.

"I'd rather die in combat." Kakashi dramatically sighed.

Protruding from the circular hole across his reptilian attire, Kakashi's silver hair jutted. Clogging the slot for his face, thick clumps of spiky strands covered a large section of his face.

"I'm sure Minato will agree... Once he finds out." Jiraiya joked.

Both chittering their teeth in unison, Kakashi and Obito were instilled with fright. Fearful of their sensei, Minato was one of Konoha's greatest shinobi, a hero of the 3rd Shinobi War.

"You're one to talk! You taught us!" Obito pointed an accusatory finger.

Shaking his face with crossed arms in front of his chest, Jiraiya vehemently denied everything. He regularly sought inspiration for his novels, but he would never corrupt the minds of the innocent.

"Find out what?" Minato appeared in a flash.

Shocking everyone in attendance, they all fell silent, stuttering without pause. Wearing a blue bodysuit, Minato's slim chest was constrained under a leaf-green flak jacket with stretched sleeves.

Recently past his 22nd birthday, Minato was an elite and legendary shinobi. So feared, several nations dispatched flee-on-sight commands, ordering their shinobi to run from this Namikaze clan member.

Gazing ahead with sky blue eyes, they were an identical hue to his Konoha headband. Layered beyond spiked tips of blond hair, it was a signature look of the Namikaze, bright golden locks.

"Funny story..." Kakashi stammered.

Instead of explaining his actions, Jiraiya instantly dissolved into a hopping herd of toads. Spreading through adjacent alleys and dirt-filled streets, he fled for safe and distant obscurity.

Strolling from behind her sensei, Rin was partially wet with soggy strands of brown hair. With a towel as her sole shield, she had no clothes, rushing from the hot springs to tattle.


Five minutes later.

"Unbelievable." Obito spat.

Swollen with soar bruises and purple bumps, Obito and Kakashi were beaten to a pulp. Earned from Rin's wraith, they were punished for attempts to spy, peeping like a young Jiraiya.

"I thought if she was more mad at you, I'd get it easy." Kakashi rubbed an inflamed cheek.

Blaming Obito for everything, Kakashi previously strived to avoid any sustained damage. This only increased Rin's fury, pummeling her teammates with the strength of a kunoichi.

In the past, Kakashi was frequently quiet and dismissive, always out of Obito's reach. All of this changed the night of Sakumo's death, the night he committed a dishonorable suicide.

Forced into a downward spiral, Kakashi questioned his purpose in life, the life of a shinobi. Only Obito, Guy and Rin could reach him, brazenly pulled from the depressed ether.

"You can dress it up with words, but we both know you snitched on me." Obito sneered.

Those who broke the rules were scum, the motto that Obito repetitively used and lived. But those who betray their peeking friends were worse than scum, they were traitorous trash.

"Next time, be more discreet." Minato proclaimed.

Speaking with joyous jest, this blond-haired Jonin lectured each student, caught in the act. Standing atop an overhead tree branch, his scalp glimmered under the sparkling sun.

Erupting into protest, Obito stuck his tongue out, still wearing a frog green jumpsuit. Complete with bulging and reptilian eyes, these yellow pupils rested on top of his plushie mask.

"How?! We moved with the stealth of ninja!" Obito argued.

Holding his slender waist with both hands, Minato quietly glanced from side-to-side. Contorting a singular arm around his students, he yanked them close, pressing their cheeks together.

"When I was your age, Kushina never caught me peeking, not once." Minato bragged.

Oh yes, even the distinguished Minato was a Man of Culture, with months of practice. It was an inherited trait and habit from his sensei, the perverted toad sage of Mount Myōboku.

"We'll do some training tomorrow, and I'll show you the secrets." He acted like a child.


Meanwhile.

"Boys are so annoying! They only think about one thing." Rin complained.

Drying her hair with a thick towel, a steady stream of water dripped from her nose. Dressed in a long-sleeved black sweater with identical shorts and thigh-high red stockings.

Kicking on the heel of her blue shinobi shoes, Rin draped a pale purple apron around her waist. A pastel tone compared to the rectangular shaped violet paintings on each cheek.

"This your first time?" Kushina rhetorically spoke.

Months younger than her boyfriend, Kushina was only 21 years old, but a veteran of conflict. Like Minato, she fought in the 2nd Shinobi War, and now, the 3rd war engulfed the world.

"When I was your age, Minato spied on me constantly... I just never said anything." A blush spread over her face.

A fact that even Minato didn't know, his lingering gaze was always noticed, and appreciated. One of the many sparks that ignited their relationship, they were a celebrated couple of Konoha.

Conformed in the garb of a kunoichi, Kushina's petite silhouette wore a blue bodysuit. Suspended above her leaf green flak jacket, a crimson haired ponytail was tied below a Konoha headband.

"My student has very fine tastes in women." Jiraiya declared.

Leaping from an orange-tiled roof, pebbled dirt was dispersed beneath Jiraiya's weight. Carried by the traditional wood of authentic Japanese sandals, he danced like a clown at the circus.

Taking an abrupt shift in persona, Jiraiya's comedic nature became stern and rigid. Commending Rin's skill at perception, he foretold her future, a life of longevity and happiness.

"You're just making excuses!" Rin alleged.

In truth, Rin loved both of her teammates, she wanted to see them prosperous and smile. But she couldn't choose between them, she couldn't decide which boy was her favorite.

Detailing a free offer of ramen, Jiraiya encouraged Kushina and Rin down the dirty street. Trotting to Ichiraku's Ramen Stand, they would meet up with Kakashi, Obito and Minato, the good old days.


Twenty minutes later.

"Shinobi act all fancy... But truth is, you're just like us civilians." Teuchi laughed.

Cradling an infant Ayame, this young girl was barely 3 years old, born during war. Saved from conflict, Teuchi and his family were just normal workers, spared from a lifetime of tragedy.

Taking to the trade of commerce, Teuchi celebrated his 29th birthday, feeding the hungry and poor. Opening his shop barely three years ago, it became a regular treat amongst Konoha.

"Nu uh!" Obito denied.

Like Rin, Obito was orphaned by the 2nd Shinobi War, losing each parent to battle. Forced to live by himself, he never knew the joy of a family, or the unconditional love of a mother.

Over 6 years had passed since the tragic death of Sakumo, since Kakashi lost his father. Adapting to the same life that Rin and Obito lived, this young Hatake was the last member of his clan.

"Shinobi are fancy, because we're going to change the world." He smacked the counter with one palm.

Eating like one big family, Jiraiya fed Kushina and Minato, and his three Genin students. Enjoying brief moments of peace in a world at war, every chance was used to laugh and play.

"That's my dream! I'm gonna become the first Hokage from the Uchiha clan!" His words were a broken record.

To break the cycle of war, that was Obito's goal, a path that would create true peace. Earning Rin's hand was another desire, to win the girl he prized above all else, the girl of his dreams.

"There he goes again." Teuchi grinned from ear-to-ear.

The Hokage, a feared ninja to some, a desk-jockey to others, and a hero too many. This was the idolization that Obito sought, to be acknowledged and accepted by everyone in the village.

Scurrying into the kitchen, Teuchi left his customers to eat and talk, seated at the bar. Quietly positioned in the middle, Jiraiya sat on a cushioned stool, placed between Minato and his students.

Jotting down a quick series of memoirs, Jiraiya used an inked quill to scribble. Seeking inspiration for his next novel, he giggled at Obito's antics, seeking to capture Rin's attention.

While the young ate, and Minato flirted with Kushina, Jiraiya was embroiled in his own mind. Memories from the past, he didn't realize that everyone in the room would die an early death, except for himself,

-Flashback Ends-

The Cycle of Hatred, it was a reoccurring theme and trend inside the shinobi world. To break this never-ending pattern, Naruto had to dismantle his own home, and the friends he loved.


Meanwhile.

"You act like an adult, but you're a whiny brat."Enma spat.

Training without pause, Konohamaru secretly visited the Land of Monkeys, far in the east. Transferred by an incomplete Summoning Jutsu, he was accidently teleported across the globe.

Related to the fabled Son Gokū, Enma ruled as the Monkey King, leader of demonic apes. In a world of chakra, these intelligent and chaotic beasts were common in the natural ecosystem.

"You seek to understand, but you refuse to learn." With elderly wisdom, he snarled.

Confronting the great summoning of his grandfather, Konohamaru was just 6 years old. Seeking to avenge the 3rd Hokage, lush and dense foliage consumed the conversation, casting shadows.

Adorned in a green flak jacket, the Monkey King wore a metallic headband of Konoha. Standing upright on two palms, Enma had darkened skin with snow white fur, wearing full-bodied mesh armor.

"No! You're wrong! You're lying!" Konohamaru denounced his royal audience.

Naruto was innocent, that was the official declaration of Enma, the degree of a king and a sage. This wasn't some second-hand account, or an anonymous tip, he was there, he saw Sarutobi's demise.

"If Naruto was there, he should've done something! He could've saved the Hokage!" His age got the better of him.

The loss of a Hokage, it was a tragic memory for Konohamaru, and the nation he loved. Could such a young boy cope with this staggering loss? That's an unanswerable question.

This was the unsettling truth of the shinobi world, a result from decades of conflict. Loved ones frequently died on the battlefield, leaving their friends and family behind, forever.

"If you can't reach the truth, how can you reach enlightenment?" Enma questioned.

Training to become a sage, Konohamaru didn't have patience or constitution. To obtain Monkey Sage Mode, one had to perfectly balance their chakra network, too reach inner peace.

This challenge was too steep for Konohamaru, bogged down by regret and month-old distain. He couldn't let go, to release all pent up anger and aggression, the weight of a boiled ocean.

A repeating trend of philosophy, this was the key to Konohamaru's unsolvable plight. In order to evolve, to become a great ninja like his grandfather, he had to relinquish his hatred.

Suddenly, reality dissolved into sweltered ooze before Konohamaru woke up, violently panting. Sleeping in the second story of an inn, he glanced out an opened window, exposing Bamboo Village.

Recent events replayed themselves throughout his conscious, reliving the past on a daily basis. His mind couldn't move on, unable to accept the tragic hand that life dealt him.


Seven hours later.

"How creative..." Konohamaru pouted.

Mocking the name of the nation he visited, this Sarutobi clan member entered the Land of Forests. A minor country between the Land of Waterfalls and the Land of Sound, it bordered the coast.

"I love it here!" Fuki clapped both hands.

Admiring the landscape, radiant leaves protruded from thick hulls of wooden lumber. A regular sight in the Land of Forests, bright hues of green and emerald decorated surrounding trees.

Gently smiling in reply, Menma's pale blond locks rustled beneath a stiff gust of wind. Squinting a pair of grey eyes, a smile etched itself across his face, enthralled by Fuki's reaction.

Fuki's father was slain while Menma did nothing, a reoccurring nightmare for the latter. He was haunted by inaction, the very concept that he stood aside, while an innocent man was struck down.

If Menma acted faster, if he stepped in and stopped Sokubai before it was too late. Fuki would still have her dad, and that was a realization that frequently bore down upon him.

That's why Menma traveled with Jiraiya, hoping to redeem the failed principles of his past. In contrast, Fuki didn't know what she wanted, a lost child with no real parent of her own.

"Since you love it so much... We'll spend the next week here." Jiraiya cackled.

Moaning in response, Konohamaru faceplanted the earth, gagging on clumps of grass. Taking several moments to regain his composure, this young Sarutobi crawled onto both feet.

"This place is way too green, I don't like it." Konohamaru sneered.

Outstretching a single arm, Jiraiya pulled his complex student close, allowing their faces to touch. The same spirit Hiruzen held now burned inside of Konohamaru, the Will of Fire.

Whispering muffled secrets, Jiraiya revealed the level of this mission, an S-rank mission. Emboldened by missing travelers and strange disappearances, the Land of Forests begged for aid.

"Stay sharp." Jiraiya murmured, gazing at a white snake in the tree-line.


Meanwhile.

Dampened by horrific screams and gurgled squirts of blood, footsteps boldly echoed. Begging for mercy, a plea to stop the pain, grinding metal answered, spewing crimson liquid across a cave wall.

"Was that really necessary?" Orochimaru smirked.

Revitalized and restored, the lack of a soul wasn't enough to deter this lethal Sanin. Regaining distorted essences of his own chakra, the cursed seals across Anko, Sakon and Kidōmaru were expunged.

"You haven't gone soft, I hope." Kabuto snickered.

Surviving the iron collapse of a heavy roof, Kabuto never died in the Land of Tea. Instead, he slithered away to recuperate, planning the next phase of attack, with his revived sensei.

A stones throw from the Mountain's Graveyard, these twin snakes stood upright like humans. Encompassed by the massive Forest of Bewilderment, a hostile jungle of natural deterrents.

Polluted by dense fog, sweeping wind howled, rumbling over forested hills and valleys. The origination of its treacherous name, travelers and tradesmen fanatically avoided this forest.

Secluded in a far-off location, few knew about this hidden hideout, created by Kabuto himself. Kidnapping civilians from adjacent towns, they were all brought back, used as experiments.

"You've certainly been busy while I was away." Orochimaru answered with a laugh.

A staggering revelation, each of these shinobi survived, living in barren and quiet shadows. Now, they finally caught the attention of Jiraiya, looking to avenge the 3rd Hokage, once and for all.


Two hours later.

Basked by flickering rays of sunlight, sparkling beams peered through lush foliage overhead. Strolling over an ornate bridge of maple and oak, they traversed a dangerous river with harsh currents.

Approaching the capital to the Land of Forests, it was known as Mori, nestled in dense woods. Using the vast countryside like a wall, few could find their village, veiled by countless trees.

"I'm going to open an academy for music, maybe move to Oto." Menma exclaimed.

Cherishing the prized ocarina he held, Menma described his deepest dream for the future. Encouraged by Jiraiya, this elderly sensei escorted his students onto a disheveled dirt road.

Betraying the minor title it held, the Land of Forests was quite large and profound. A gigantic river bisected this land, divided into two sprawling sections of vividly green woodland.

"I don't really know..." Fuki muttered, twirling her fingers with a blush.

"And what about you?" Jiraiya grinned.

With only one arm, Jiraiya held his waist, draped and decorated in a vermillion haori. Lazily walking behind each student, Konohamaru led this assembled group with a scowled face.

"I'd rather not say." Konohamaru mumbled.

Naruto killed the 3rd Hokage, an allegation that repetitively probed Konohamaru's mind. This assertion was directly challenged and debunked by Enma, the legendary Monkey King.

If Naruto was innocent, what purpose did Konohamaru have? What were his accomplishments? For almost three months, he wilted and wallowed, striving to redeem his insulted clan.

Now, a crossroad took shape, both in his mind and the physical world, diverging paths. One was consumed and cloaked by dense bushes, while the other was bare with jagged and naked rocks.

"Two roads? Which do we take?" Fuki hummed.

"The left is quicker, but more dangerous... While the right is harmless, but takes forever." Jiraiya detailed.

Instilled by this knowledge, Konohamaru ran without looking back, dashing over spiked stone. Trailed by Menma, Fuki and Jiraiya, they all took the road less traveled, fraught with danger.


Three hours later.

"Enough! You're leading us in circles!" Fuki alleged.

Lost and stranded, Jiraiya and his students aimlessly journeyed through an endless jungle. In secret, only the Sanin knew their location, directed by cryptic clues and contrived suggestions.

In fact, this group just entered the Forest of Bewilderment, a feared landmark of Mori. This was Jiraiya's plan, to infiltrate and investigation a strange build up of suspicious activity.

"Why did we pick the dangerous path?" Menma tremored at a ruptured hiss.

Growing in sound and scope, this reptilian roar evolved to the height of a bold chorus. Squirming from rumbled brush, dozens of white snakes crowded the tree-line, each with amber eyes.

Instinctively diving into his satchel, Konohamaru revealed a handful of sharpened shuriken. Hurling a spiraled barrage, he clasped both palms through an elaborate collection of hand seals.

Enabling Ninja Art: Shadow Shuriken Clone Jutsu, one blade multiplied into hundreds. Unleashing a distinct thump, they collided against jutted trees and worming snakes, drawing blood.

"Hmphhmphhmph." Orochimaru giggled.

Stepping from dark shadows, both arms were crossed while strands of black hair hung. Narrowing the snake-like pupils he possessed, they resembled vertical slits of twisted honey.

Jiraiya was Sasuke and Orochimaru was Naruto, sharing certain beliefs and correlated actions. Years ago, after Minato's nomination, Orochimaru left Konoha, followed and tracked by his bestfriend.

This led to a climatic battle between young friends, a confrontation between snake and toad. In the end, Orochimaru won, fleeing the village while his friend survived, just like Naruto.

Mocking the belittled friend he once prized, Orochimaru was maniacal and mischievous. Distracted by his own dilemma, Konohamaru caught the tangible glance of his whiskered sensei.

Running after this image, he dove and slid through bundled foliage, disappearing from sight. Directing his students to follow, Jiraiya watched as Fuki and Menma chased after him.


Five minutes later.

Blindly following an echoed laugh, Konohamaru's feet swelled with exhausted reserve. Eventually ensnared by a sprung snake, he struggled to break free, coiled by white scales.

Saved by thrown kunai from Menma, they cut attacking snakes into various chunks. Rescued and liberated, Konohamaru harshly coughed before smacking the grassy earth below.

"Don't run off by yourself! This land is dangerous!" Fuki spoke.

Chastising her friend, Konohamaru didn't event react, stuck in a separate daze. What was he fighting for? Why did he train? What crime did Naruto commit? Questions that couldn't be answered.

"Is this all the Sarutobi can offer?" Kabuto leered.

Straying atop a protruded branch, Kabuto's snow-white scales were dazzled by sunlight. Gazing with yellow and snake-like eyes, he wore a simple black robe with stretched sleeves.

Flinching with hostility, Konohamaru weaved through a blurred array of hand seals. Utilizing Fire Style: Fireball Jutsu, adjacent leaves were scorched while overgrown grass was seared.

Evading these fiery embers without any effort, Kabuto rolled throughout the tree-line. Startled by rippling soundwaves from Menma's ocarina, he dissolved into a mound of milk-colored snakes.

Emerging across the landscape, these squirming reptiles reattached their glistening scales. Forming a distorted blob of cloth and flesh, Kabuto manipulated his own cells, morphing a sole arm.

Launched like the estranged length of a thrown rope, this limb took the shape of a snake. Unhinging its jaw, twin fangs were bared, sank against the steel edge of trembling kunai.

"Is this all you can offer?" Konohamaru stuck his tongue out.

Overwhelmed by Senjutsu might, Konohamaru's kunai shattered beneath a heavy bite. Dropping these broken weapons, he leapt for safety. swinging onto a rickety branch overhead.

Older than her troubled friend, Fuki's ninja skill was dull and drained in comparison. Cradled by Menma, she was swept off her feet, carried underneath the curved girth of a wrist.

Fighting a sage, Konohamaru was swatted aside with the back of Kabuto's hand. Unraveling the treasured blue scarf he wore, it became tattered with dirt, spread over crumbled rock.

Tearing at the ground with clenched hands, this Sarutobi clan member screamed with rage. Battered beneath his feet, Konohamaru charged, retrieving the three-pronged kunai that Naruto gave him.

Snagged, sundered and scraped by Kabuto, he dismantled the Seal of the Flying Thunder God. Tossing this hollow blade to the earth, it was lighter than a feather, designed for throwing, not fighting.

Jolted by quaking earth, the encompassing audience ran while dozens of trees collapsed. A radiant tremor from a Sanin-level battle, Sage fought Sage, using their own degree of animalistic Senjutsu.


Meanwhile.

Zooming across the moss-covered enamel of ancient bones, Jiraiya's white hair wavered. Traveling atop a skeleton framework, these bones were older than the shinobi world.

Originating from an old and mountainous toad, over a thousand years ago, this beast died. Now, it's primordial carcass scarred the Mountain's Graveyard, a namesake of its presence.

Gliding across this time-lost cadaver, Jiraiya's green gauntlet collided against a wall of snakes. Like battles of old, Jiraiya and Orochimaru clashed, exuding a chaotic aura of combat.

Flipping through an arched entry of ribbed-bones, these shinobi used sage-level Taijutsu. Distant frogs croaked as overhanging snakes hissed and coiled, suspended in a cemetery of giants.

Corroded demons and algae-covered beasts, this was the depiction of Mountain's Graveyard, The sight of a forgotten age, hundreds of demons fell in this spot, slain by the Sage of Six Paths.

These bygone corpses now bore witness to a staggering battle, a confrontation of Sanin. Employing Art of the Raging Lion's Mane, Jiraiya's hair burst out like the tentacles of an octopus.

Strangling the snow-white neck of Orochimaru, this ninja erupted into a puff of smoke. Revealing a simple wooden log, the real Sanin stood on a looming branch, cloaked by leaves.

"Still using that old technique? How nostalgic." Orochimaru grinned.

Orochimaru killed the 3rd Hokage, a truth that Jiraiya knew all to well, clearing Naruto's name. But the reappearance of his childhood friend changed many things, he had to avenge his sensei.

Killing Hiruzen wasn't enough, Orochimaru still had the itch, a desire to kill everyone he once loved. This was the twisted nature forced upon him, broken by a lifetime of shinobi war.

Great Lord Elder... Is this, my moment of selection? Jiraiya pondered.

The moment of selection, is was a theatrical expression to some, but philosophical to Jiraiya. It was the dream he rushed towards, the goal he worked for, the glory before his final rest.

Retracting locks of hair, Jiraiya danced through comprehensive one-handed seals. Preforming Fire Style: Flame Bombs, air was gathered through his mouth, turned to oil inside his stomach.

Spewing a torrent of flickering cinders, chakra-infused flames surged at Orochimaru. Bisected by Wind Style: Great Breach, the Snake Sage weaved this technique with a cackled laugh.

While each shinobi deployed a C-rank jutsu, their own prestige enhanced their lethal use. Swollen to the strength of S-rank, the surrounding countryside was torn by their collision.

Spiraled and swirled into the blazing vortex of a tornado, chunks of earth were swallowed. Raging throughout the horizon, this destructive whirlwind demolished large swaths of land.

Embroiled at the crescent peak of this storm, Orochimaru and Jiraiya engaged one another. Hair wavered as clothes rustled beneath thrashing currents of hostile wind, emanating the tree-line.

Bridging this static tempest, Konohamaru was battered, tossed back by Kabuto. Snickering in triumph, Menma and Fuki could do nothing but watch, weakened children in a contest of elite ninja.

Even his extensive training was for naught, Konohamaru couldn't defeat a Sage. Kabuto was on a completely separate level, above the young and innocent opponents he faced.

As the previous vortex weakened, Jiraiya observed his surroundings, glaring at Konohamaru. He thought about other students, pupils that he failed and lost in the past, like Minato.

Swept through the snake, boar, rat, dragon, boar, dragon and tiger seals, Jiraiya scurried. Slamming a lonely palm against the earth, dirt turned to flesh while trees became a pink esophagus.

Changing the landscape, old bones were engulfed by a pulsating layer of inner organs. Ensnared by this display, Orochimaru, Kabuto and Konohamaru were dragged to a different reality.

Known as Ninja Art: Toad Mouth Trap, Jiraiya captured each opponent inside a fleshy hallway. He could stop this battle, he could save Konohamaru and redeem the 3rd Hokage, right now.

Coiling with alarm, Kabuto's shoes were singed by corrosive acid, yearning to swallow him. An A-rank technique, this jutsu was excellent at offense and defense, warping space and time.

"You fool!" Orochimaru recognized the sequence of hand seals.

Triggered by this revelation, even Kabuto was traumatized, stuttering with an opened mouth. Involved in a sage-level battle, there was no escape, beguiled with unescapable Ninjutsu.

Drooling over its host, Jiraiya himself wasn't safe from this throbbing esophagus, spasming. Only Konohamaru was spared, partially swallowed but unharmed by thick sludge and toad oil.

Squirming to help, reaching to offer assistance, Konohamaru was too weak and bogged down. He sought to grow and expand, but refused to move on, stranded in the distant past.

Clasping a sole hand against Jiraiya's shoulder, this young Sarutobi stretched with all might. Sunk into flesh, a single arm and part of his face was all that remained, gorged by acidic mucus.

"You need to let go." Jiraiya spoke.

Both metaphorical and philosophical, Jiraiya's words held twin meanings, a homonym of thought. Pushing his student aside, he lingered to fulfil his technique, a deed worthy of a Sage.

Positioned inside the summoned stomach of a giant fire toad, these ninja were consumed. If Jiraiya left, his jutsu would easily be broken by the twin Sage's he fought, so he stayed, sealed away.