The Pantheon of Nine

By: Finn Mertenz

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


Chapter 135: Responsibility Of The Kage! Weight Of A Nation.

Friday 6:07pm, October 24th 58SSP.

Both 14 years old, in the cusp of youth, Sasame and Kagerō strolled past dead bushes. Traveling throughout the Land of Sound, trees overhead were barren, shrouded by darkened clouds.

Holding an outstretched finger aloft, a vibrant butterfly perched upon Kagerō's hand. Gently flapping a colorful pair of wings, gusts of wind distilled the air, dislodging dead tree leaves.

"When this is over, wanna pick up some ramen?" Sasame hummed.

Dwelling on the whiskered and transparent image of Naruto's face, she deeply blushed. The first boy she ever kissed, a distant conversation of ramen stuck in her mind, encouraged to eat.

"I don't see how you eat that stuff." Kagerō waved a dismissive hand.

Preferring to snack on sweetened treats and sugar-coated candy, dango was brought up. However, Oto didn't have it's own dango restaurant, so this meal was rare in the Land of Sound.

"You're both odd." Dosu groaned.

Enwrapped by an armored gauntlet around his right forearm, he stroked his bandaged chin. Walking with a bent back, his posture was hunched over, cloaked by loose robes of a Kage.

Triggered by the time of day, the setting sun pierced sprinkled clouds overhead. So close to the Land of Fire, Oto's own countryside was infused by countless forests, dying before winter.

"Don't lie, you love us!" Sasame smirked.

Preforming a romantic and seductive tone, this kunoichi bit her own lip before leaning forward. Casually tripped by Kagerō, she fell against the earth, staining orange hair with clumps of dirt.

Halting this joyful moment of bliss, Sasame's hat was struck by a flaming ball of emerald cinders. Scorched and seared, she rolled to safety, forcing tussled lofts of hair to stretch and wave.

Losing balance, this kunoichi fell into the arms of her friend, blushing as Kagerō held her. Leaping from the path of a falling tree, these teenaged ninja were separated from their Dokage.

Fueled by clasped palms, a gale of viridescent flames blew through the surrounding tree-line. The newest host for Son Gokū, Isaribi was cloaked by flickering walls of fiery heat.

Beyond the trepidation of her past, this 'freak' obtained the title of kunoichi, mustering far more. The vessel for a beast, a tool to create a new era, she aimed to change the world that created her.

Devoid of the medical bandages she once wore, fished scales of green sprawled into eyesight. Black pupils were no longer timid, replaced by an unfettered gaze, desired and set in place.

Framed by bundled bangs tied to the side, her neck possessed the webbed gills of a fish. As green as emerald, the entirety of her left arm was scaled, matching her right wrist and knee.

Faster than sound, Dosu clasped and weaved blurred hand seals, glaring with a leered eye. Employing Ninjutsu, he preformed Wind Style: Great Breech, emboldened by visible chakra.

Strengthened by the metallic resonator he wore, soundwaves swelled beneath currents of wind. Dispersed between bipartisan torrents of emerald blaze, barren trees were thrust asunder.

Because of the autumn season, few leaves existed too blow, instead, crackling embers flew fast. Infused by splintered debris and pulverized chips of wood, the earth crumbled below.

Landing with a hollow thud, Isaribi's light feet were cloaked by the hung fabric of her robe. Emblazoned with crimson clouds that all Akatsuki wore, her sleeves were engulfed by fire.

"Another test subject?" Dosu groaned.

Born into this reality, Dosu recognized the permanent scar left by Orochimaru's experiments. Now, faced against a twin pupil from the reptilian sage that trained him, he fought for his village.


Meanwhile.

"Next time, don't forget the milk." Inari rubbed his cheek.

Slouched over the right shoulder of Zabuza, this young child basked in bedazzled moonlight. Sent from home on an errand to the store, Zabuza wore a black shirt with fluffy blue pajamas.

Mumbling beneath the layered linen around his lower jawline, this Kage carried his stepson. Traversing the village of Kai, dim streetlights paved the path, occasionally lined with civilians.

"Yeah, yeah..." Zabuza sighed with exhaustion.

Holding Inari with one arm, his other palm rested inside the pockets of his attire, hidden. A veteran, feared and renown shinobi, his appearance resembled a sleep deprived father.

Traumatized by a sudden explosion, Inari gasped as a geyser of smoke rose on the horizon. Infecting adjacent roofs and the shingles that paved them, swirling smoke polluted the air.

As panicked citizens ran, planked houses were dislodged, swallowed by fiery soot and dust. Hurled from their homes, innocent families screamed, saved only by Zabuza's fast reply.

Surging between drifting boulders and wooden planks, Zabuza saved dozens of civilians. Delivering each of them to Inari, he encouraged them to run, shouting orders and directives.

Missing the fabled sword he carried, Zabuza groaned as spiked ice jutted from the ground. Sprouting like natural caltrops, he rolled to avoid them, vertically scaling the sides of a wall.

Met by a hail of senbon, he evaded them at the last moment, utilizing advanced backflips. Filling the street with sweltered heat, mist held the singed tone of red, the color of Kokuō's chakra.

Pierced by a stray blade, this wound was cauterized by sizzling steam, holding intense heat. While surrounding walls were damaged and torn, lingering ice was scarlet, instead of blue.

Cracking slanted sheets below, Haku appeared with grace, cloaked by black robes and red clouds. Locked bangs of black rustled, brushing against pale and feminine cheeks with auburn eyes.

Sneering in reply, Zabuza's masked face concealed the expression he displayed, scowled pupils. Acting a fool for all present, in reality, he knew this moment would come, the end of shinobi.


Meanwhile.

"This is a waste of time, we should've brought Sasuke." Ino sighed.

Joined by Ryūzetsu, Sazanami and Hinata, this band of ninja journeyed through the Land of Sound. Scouting ahead of the 5th Kukage, Muku was distant, trailing behind his delegation.

"Or Neji." Hinata corrected.

Speaking without any slur and stammer, white eyes held the light shade of faded lavender. Emboldened by throbbing veins protruding around each pupil, the Byakugan was active.

Focused on a foreign and strange sphere, this orb of chakra was blue, as pure as sapphire. The size of a house, it oozed and boiled, gushing miniature geysers of steam and soap.

Immune and impenetrable, Hinata's special eyes couldn't pierce its surface, blinded inside. Combing the ruined landscape of Kusa, charred homes and disheveled streets laid in wake.

The desolate devastation left behind by Naruto's Akatsuki, refugee's spread far and wide. Brewing fear and hatred for the red cloud, all knew who were responsible, the Pantheon of Nine.

Distilled by intruding footsteps, the primordial orb broke open, dissolved into bubbled fumes. Built around the meditating shape of Jūgo, this quiet jinchūriki sprang to his feet, opening both eyes.

Possessing orange pupils, they exuded the same tone and hue as spiked strands of needled hair. The perch for chirping birds, they sat atop his shoulders, asleep in soothing tranquility.

A combatant from the 2nd and 3rd Shinobi War's, Sazanami surged with quickening speed. Blowing the straw hat from his scalp, twin scars embellished his left cheek, age-old wounds.

Unsheathing a pair of kunai, he held their hilts in a reverse bladed grip, slashed in repetition. Deflecting these blows with the back of his hand, Jūgo's skin became discolored and distorted.

Hardened like the surface of rock and stone, fair skin turned brown, lined with prominent vents. Pouring thin lines of gas and soap, a bubbly-mixture rose in rapid succession.

Bloated and swollen, Jūgo's red clouded robe was torn by enlarged biceps and muscles. Catching sharpened kunai with the palm of his hand, Sazanami was disarmed and tossed aside.

Adding aid to her lavished teammate, Ryūzetsu leapt between him and his Akatsuki opponent. Magnified by the clasped echo of palms, embers of flame radiated, fueled by chakra.

Preforming Fire Style: Phoenix Fire Jutsu, crackling cinders drifted while flamed torrents burst. Expelled into a consecutive barrage of fiery bullets, it was matched by Jūgo's hail of blue bubbles.

Met by equal sensation and deliberate strength, rupturing bubbles exploded into sprinkled water. Extinguishing stray cinders of fire, steam rose from drowned remains of static fire.

Resembling a rash of azure and slim, the left side of Jūgo's face boiled with chakra-filled bubbles. Unleashing a demonic howl of rage, pristine orbs reflected individual faces and the landscape.

Like a wet maw of slick pus, Jūgo's tongue turned to puddled ooze and blue sludge. Spitting a bombardment of steeled bubbles, the earth was sundered by this approaching blast.


Meanwhile.

Standing in front of the natural cliffside of Taki, Kegon stood over Omoi, shaking him awake. Muffled by the constant fall of plummeting liquid, a waterfall concealed the entrance behind.

"Oh man..." Omoi's right eye was swollen.

Dropping the toothpick from his mouth, he crawled onto both feet before groaning aloud. Rubbing the wound he bore, Kegon sighed in response, welcoming guests to his home village.

"Karui chased your friend off too, eh?" He promptly sat with crossed arms.

Basked by the homely horizon of Taki, the Land of Waterfalls was a vivid and lively country. Growing late in the day, the moon sat overhead, illuminating the land with rays of silver light.

"Don't worry about it, Yōrō loves to make a mess." Kegon scratched his scalp.

Masked by darkened shadows and silhouettes, a swarm of insects buzzed into existence. Fluttering throughout the tree-line, they were met by the hasted blur of Kegon's clapped palms.

Preforming Water Style: War Shuriken Jutsu, spiraled blades of liquid were launched out. Thrown in rapid succession, they sliced and bisected hundreds of wings, crumbled atop grassy plains.

Parted by thrashing torrents of wind, adjacent trees were uprooted and blown backwards. Unsheathing the scarlet-hilted katana on his back, Omoi sliced approaching chunks of lumber.

Spreading skewered splinters and flaked debris through the air, he caught a fresh toothpick. Ensnared by Omoi's mouth, he chewed with grinding teeth, observing decrepit tree branches.

Paved by snorted laughter, Fuu fell from the moonlit sky, breaking chunks of earth beneath her feet. Petite and slim, thinned arms were swallowed by stretched fabric from red clouded robes.

Shocked by the speed of this advance, Omoi's brow secreted sweat while eyes turned to saucers. Pressing each palm together, Fuu weaved the bird seal, inhaling a deep breathe.

With bulging cheeks that resembled a squirrel, she unleashed Wind Style: Air Bullets. Swirling blobs of swift wind and condensed chakra, Omoi strived to parry, only too be disarmed.

Struck in the stomach, shoulder and torso, Omoi was overwhelmed by steep currents. Hurled into the natural cliffside of Taki, a crater erupted on impact, knocking spewed spit from his mouth.

Supporting this damaged shinobi, Kegon leapt in front of him, preforming an array of seals. Triggered by a dramatic inhale, a bombardment of liquid was expelled from his mouth, gushing.

Known as Water Style: Water Wall Jutsu, this B-rank technique swelled with chakra. Amplified by the surrounding landscape, this attack became emboldened, growing to a tsunami.

Continuing their advance, Fuu's display of Wind Style ravaged the country asunder. Dispersed against Kegon's technique, harsh currents of debris and droplets of water radiated.

Trailed by a stark cloud of dust and grass, exterior outskirts of Taki were veiled from sight. Lit only by the crystal clear moon overhead, even this was eventually cloaked by dark clouds.


Meanwhile.

Striking a stray wave, Chōjūrō howled as feet floated upright into the air, squirming in place. Held down only by this grip, wooden handles protruded from an embellished steering wheel.

"Be careful!" Ao snapped.

Yanking this youthful swordsmen to the deck, Ao sneered as deep thunder rumbled across the sky. Dark and clouded, the midnight moon was shrouded from view, turning the ocean black.

Using his sheath as a cane, Idate sat in slumber, resting his back against a sea-sprayed railing. Standing atop the edge, Mifune's beard rustled from side-to-side, battered by wet wind.

"We're almost there! Calm down!" Chōjūrō timidly whispered.

Sailed forth, a rickety dock fast approached, extended from a mainland of grass and mist. The shoreline to Kiri, the Land of Water was a nation state of bundled isles, closely tied together.

Mere yards away from their destined relief, the ship was struck by fierce waves, rising in haste. Tossing the grouped shinobi and samurai on board, each leapt and twirled to safety.

Chōjūrō and Ao landed atop the darkened ocean's surface, causing distinct ripples to radiate. Utilizing their own prowess, Idate and Mifune crouched over floated planks of broken lumber.

Sunk by tremendous strength, their vessel didn't survive the attacking waves that struck. Now, suspended narrowly a stone's throw from the shore, all eyes focused upon white hair.

Pure and pristine as snow, Suigetsu's scalp resembled a second moon, since the first was hidden. Plucking the stringed thread of Nuibari, he carried four sacred blades in total.

Like all jinchūriki, he wore the red clouded robes of Akatsuki, with a stretched collar and sleeves. Paired with the old slate blue ring of Orochimaru, this special jewel rested around his left pinkie.

Promptly unsheathing his own blade, Chōjūrō brandished Hiramekarei, dividing one blade into two. Swept out, they clashed against the metallic thread of Nuibari, directed by Suigetsu.

Coiled and wrapped, ensnared and trapped, Chōjūrō was disarmed, losing grip on a golden hilt. As this lost blade plunged into the ocean, he struggled to retain it, stopped by slashed blades.

Unable to retrieve the twin half of his sacred sword, Chōjūrō strained to parry the assault he faced. Saved only by the quickened Taijutsu of Ao, this Jonin was spry and flexible.

Rushing to intervene, Idate and Mifune jumped from log to log, running along the ocean's surface. Moving without a single waste, they twirled and spun, raising their blades for combat.


Meanwhile.

"Tch!" Temari scoffed.

With coiled and bent biceps, she swept her fan in a horizontal angle, engulfed by chakra. Directing this visible gale of wind, dust and dirt was dispersed as thrashing currents surged.

Fighting inside the underground sewers and catacombs of Uzushio, rushing water echoed. Disintegrating cobbled brick on approach, this technique swelled and soared with speed.

Stricken by layered wind, Naruto's attire wavered while whiskers prominently protruded. Gazing with unbroken eyes of pure amethyst, the chakra was drained from Temari's attack.

Shielded from harm, adjacent stone didn't share his relief, crumbled and cracked into pieces. Lazily raising violet eyes, Deidara plummeted from the ceiling, snickering with a stretched palm.

Reflecting off the purple glare he displayed, Naruto watched as white clay was launched out. Shaped and molded into a flock of birds, they swarmed and flapped around their target.

Lending aid to his ally, Kisame held Samehada aloft, allowing Deidara to land on the bandaged blade. Weaving the half tiger seal, the air was parted by his cheerful tone, shouting "boom!"

Triggered like a tumbling avalanche of snow, clumped clouds of white rippled in all directions. Lined with fiery soot and smoked ash, this billowing gas of flame swallowed dislodged rock.

Emerging as quickly as he disappeared, strings of smoke contorted and lingered around Naruto. Impervious to the intense heat around him, flickered embers soared past jarred whiskers.

Abruptly overshadowed by the 4th Raikage, A sneered with naked teeth, stretching both arms. Using golden vambraces around each wrist, he reached to strangle the life from Naruto.

Instead, the wooden girth of a log was crushed beneath his grip, spewing stray splinters loose. Shocked by the blurred outline behind him, A barely had time to glance over his left shoulder.

Moving at speeds beyond his comprehension, the 4th Raikage was smacked by a flung shin. Battered, bent and bounced backwards, interior walls of Uzushio's sewer crumbled apart.

As quick as autumn leaves falling from their branch, Guy tore the robes from his torso. Dressed in nothing but a leaf green jumpsuit, his scarlet-clothed headband was used as a belt.

Like the changing of seasons, the 5th Hokage utilized a forbidden and outlawed degree of Taijutsu. Opening the 1st, 2nd and 3rd Gates, his skin instantly turned crimson, losing each pupil.

Unlatching the predetermined limits on his own body, Guy's hair stood up on its ends, spiked. Fueled by bulging veins across his body, stone below was pulverized by a single thrust.

Directing a clenched fist forward, the speed of his advance brought him mere inches from Naruto. Caught by the unseen grip of gravity, this Kage-level onslaught was halted in its place.

Thrown back with the weight of a collapsing star, surrounding brick was seized by this shockwave. Colliding against the same disheveled wall that A previously destroyed, the 5th Hokage fell.

Clapping wet stone under feet, Kisame cackled as he carried his oversized and lumbering blade. Swollen with chakra, it held serrated scales, instead of a sharpened and fine edge.

Breeching the layered linen around its girth, Samehada growled with lust and hunger aloud. Shredding the air beneath a vertical slash, this sentient blade sundered brick below.

Dispersing flung rock, Naruto's face was empty as he ducked under floating piles of debris. Confronted by five Kage-level opponents, he didn't care, already broken by the world.

As sandaled feet slid over dusted concrete, this jinchūriki was approached from two sides. Moving with twin speed and curled fists, A and Guy each flung a clenched punch forth.

While the Raikage swelled with an aura of sapphire, the Hokage was cloaked by a blanket of green. Positioned between this pincer of movement, both blows were caught by unseen walls.

Protected only by a sphere of gravity, earth crumbled and cracked beneath this weight of might. However, Naruto was unreachable, veiled by pulsating walls of gravitational force.

"Almighty Push." A single phrase was uttered.

Raising arms to intercept the external mayhem around him, rippled eyes trembled and twitched. Expelling a torrential wave of overwhelming strength, a cone of devastation surged outward.

Plunged through canals of water and rock, A and Guy were hurled and thrown, lost from sight. Shrieking as she fell from the ceiling, Temari closed her fan tight, turned into a staff.

Demolishing the sectioned earth below, her well-placed attack struck nothing but naked air. Teleported behind this unsuspecting Kage, Naruto stood with eyes of violet and lavender.

Swatted aside, the 5th Kazekage was treated like an insignificant fly, undeserving of attention. This didn't disrupt the chain of battle, exposing the strange mouth on Deidara's palm, chewing.

Expunged like the gelatinous pus of a dying carcass, white ooze poured from gorged and curled lips. Congealed around his palm, Deidara plunged this explosive fist downward.

Colliding against an iron vent, the stream below contained water, fueling an adjacent pool of water. Triggered by tumbled concrete, a tsunami of liquid swelled beneath Kisame's chakra.

With weaved hand seals and a gurgled mouth, the 6th Mizukage stood atop a gushing wave of blue. Led by a growling Samehada, this mountainous growth of water rolled like an avalanche.


Meanwhile.

Paved by the chattered tick of snapping wood, the 4th Kazekage charged with hollow and light feet. Manipulated by visible strands of tangible blue chakra, Kankūro sneered in contempt.

Jumping from stray streams of sand, this honorable shinobi was covered by shifting grains of gold. Sparkling and bedazzled, Rasa's puppeteer body employed a cocoon of Golden Dust.

Utilizing a fabled combination of Ninjutsu, the 4th Kazekage used Kekkei Genkai, Magnet Style. Because of the conductive current gold possessed, particles generated their own magnetic field.

The symbolic heir of Suna, and a student of the 3rd Kazekage, Rasa's skill was nearly endless. Now, honed and brought to bare by his firstborn son, his mind was gone, but not his spirit.

Enthralled by waved hands and sleeved arms, he summoned gigantic mounds of pulverized gold. Denser than sand, these dazzled particles overcame the stiff attacks that Gaara launched.

Taking advantage of this distraction, Matsuri clasped the armored gauntlets around her palms. The sole orphan of famed shinobi, slain during one of Shukaku's rampage, her resolve was adamant.

Distinguished by this honored bloodline, Matsuri held an affinity for Wind Style and Earth Style. Swollen with an emerald aura of chakra, the ground below was clapped by a single palm.

Preforming Earth Style: Mud Wave Jutsu, the surrounding landscape began to tremble and shake. Radiating like an earthquake, vibrating chunks of rock nullified existing currents of magnetism.

Stationed alongside one another, these ninja of Suna fought the traitorous jinchūriki of their village. Like days of old, Shukaku's sand was halted by layered waves of Golden Dust.

This was the hostile depiction that distant ninja witnessed, beholden to combat beyond their level. Standing amongst these shinobi, Baki's shoulders stiffened beneath a tan flak jacket.

"We should help." Sasori spoke, wearing the headband of Suna.

Devoid of the red clouded robes he once wore, this former Akatsuki now loyally served his nation. Dressed in a full-bodied dark jumpsuit, his sanded flak jacket was lined with a cowl.

Tugging on the clothed headband around his neck, Sasori could easily aid his own strength to battle. Instead, Baki ordered him to stand down, restrained by the waved dismissal of a hand.

"Can't you see it?" Baki hummed.

As brother engaged brother, these siblings were parted only by their father, a hollow puppet of life. Guided and controlled by tangible threads of blue chakra, the 4th Kazekage fought.

To some, this battle was nothing but a clash of loyalty, a battle of shinobi, a confrontation of resolve. Baki knew better, he saw a trifled build up between siblings, desperate for resolution.

"This battle is about more than us, they need this." Arms crossed in front of his chest.

Fighting for the fate of his village, and the shinobi world, Kankūro moved toe-to-toe with Matsuri. Separated in age only by a year, that didn't deter the close relationship they shared.

Now, more determined than ever to change the fate of reality, their efforts combined into one. Watched over by the inanimate eyes of his father, Kankūro sought to surpass him.


Meanwhile.

Scorched and singed by azure hellfire, Makapu Village was a burnt remnant of its former glory. Lit only by stray beams of moonlight, piercing occasional clumps of darkened clouds overhead.

A reprieve to the hostile nature of this depiction, flames dissolved beneath the slash of Oliva. Cut by the infused halberd she wielded, blue fire was drained of its chakra, flickering to ash.

Spearheading the defense of her home town, Meng accompanied this music-enthralled friend. Interrupted by the horizontal wave of a wet hand, bullets of sweetened honey rang out.

Launched by Kurobachi, this eldest member of the royal branch was stained in auburn gel. Constantly gorging himself on jars of honey, his beard was coated in sticky ooze of yellow.

Representatives for the Kamizuru clan, Suzumebachi trailed behind her older brother. Defying age and expectations, she retained the title of clan head, a vital kunoichi and member of Iwa.

Adding a swarm of bees to her brother's attack, the merged gale of their jutsu broiled. Drenching the horizon in puddled-slime of amber, crackling and fiery waves were extinguished.

Digging the sharpened nails of her right claw into the earth, uprooted sections cracked. Rising like heated geysers between these crevasse's, sapphire flames were carried by blowing wind.

Embroiled against four ninja at once, Karin's concern was obsolete, engulfed by blue fire. Swallowing both arms and portions of her torso, this sweltering degree of heat held no effect.

Evading lodged bullets of sweetened honey, crimson hair wavered as she rolled over earth. Burning bladed portions of grass she grazed, Karin side-stepped a barrage of spiraled shuriken.

"You shouldn't have come back!" Meng snarled.

Maneuvering over crumbled piles and charred ruins, this kunoichi of Yu held a black kunai. Thrust forth, the tip boiled under duress, turned to thickened sludge and oozed-ichor of black.

Unable to breech the flamed cloak around her opponent, she flipped and twirled backwards. Intercepting the jinchūriki that followed, Suzumebachi and Kurobachi blockaded Karin's path.

Breaking this humane wall of flesh, the host for Matatabi strolled without an ounce of panic. Brushing past the Kamizuru Jonin in front of her, amber plates of honey melted to wax.

Safed only by the twirled girth from Olivia's halberd, flickering cinders of azure were drained. Like white goal and flaked hail, the shinobi sandals around Karin's feet became burnt.

Unharmed by the sweltering heat she controlled, a singular tail sprouted from her curled back. Ethereal and transparent, it carried the hue of blue, swished and flayed from side-to-side.

Swiftly cloaked around her torso, this boiled limb was a shield against kunai and shuriken. Instilled with smoldering degree beyond comprehension, even metallic tools melted away.

Thrust aside, the famed twins of Kamizuru groaned as streams of steam rose from them. Washing over this boiled aura with her own mirage, Meng employed Steam Style: Vapor bullets.

Puncturing the earth with the collapsed weight of a momentous storm, swirled tornado's surged. Dwarfed and divided, deafened and decreased, the rampant howl of wind cried in flames.

Dismayed and decoupled, dozen of fine houses were scorched into crinkled ash and soot. Shielding her elder brother from harm, Suzumebachi crawled on top, taking the brunt of fire.


Meanwhile.

Intercepting a scarlet growth of coral, sharpened tips broke beneath Sakura's enraged grip. Shed and sprinkled across the ground, splintered chips shattered beneath the weight of feet.

Carrying the stained silhouette of a wooden wall, she held this bulk lumber with one hand. Thrown like the swirling slice of a gigantic shuriken, loose streetlights were struck and torn.

Instilled with unfettered resolve, Tayuya stood still, swiftly cocooned by swollen spikes of coral. Bisecting the clumped plaster on this damaged wall, support beams were skewered.

Enhanced by special Doijutsu he possessed, Ranmaru's blood-red pupils lit up like a radiant star. An age-long mixture of the Sharingan and Byakugan, his Ketsuryūgan eyes were unique.

Able to visually pierce the solidified matter around Tayuya, he saw nothing in her place, vanished. As quickly as this realization took shape, he gagged on spit as a shadow loomed behind.

Snagged and snared by his hair, this youthful shinobi was held aloft, vainly kicking to break free. Rushing to aid his disgruntled ally, Gennō's age didn't hinder the speedy response he gave.

Blindsided by the hurled outline of the ninja he sought, Gennō's stomach was slammed by Ranmaru. Tossed with startling force, Tayuya kicked these shinobi with trivial annoyance.

Breaking cobbled portions of old concrete, the streets of Chin Village crumbled below them. Colliding against the tattered ruins of piled debris and rickety trash, they soaked in dust.

Wielding the twin and fabled blades of Kiba, Raiga struck the ground with static arches of blue. Disintegrated and zapped, flaked ash permeated the horizon, veiled by crackled lightning.

Captured and rung from spired peaks of crimson coral, electric beams surged back and forth. Brighter than the moon, an aura of azure illuminated the skyline, flickering in-and-out.

Absorbing and directing this swollen current, Raiga's sleeved robes became partially burnt. Sizzled and stiffened, the teal attire of a Taikage was petrified, sprawled in a blanket of static.

Deflecting this zapped voltage with a shard of coral, scarlet substance poured from her skin. Coating the naked palm she clenched, this armored fist smashed through a barricade of electricity.

Decked in the jaw, Raiga flung backwards, breaking the lavished surface of an oaken wall. Hidden from focus, Tayuya sneered with bare teeth, rolling both eyes in a lack of interest.

Caught off guard by the repetitive clap of sandals on stone, Tayuya gasped with stuttered shock. Strained to evade a swift jab, her fuzzy penguin hat fell beneath Sakura's assault.

Narrowly stepping from chakra-infused knuckles, loose strands of crimson brushed her cheek. Growling in contempt, Tayuya reached to retrieve her hat, halted by a second fist.

Devolved into an exchange of hands, strikes of Taijutsu were honed, aimed and directed. Dampened by the sound of popped joints and stretched muscles, each attack was caught.

Training over the course of months, excelling through the weeks, Sakura's skill blossomed. No longer was she a cowardice kunoichi that ran and hid, now, she was a proud ninja of Konoha.

A conflict between paths, a battle of two differing philosophies and viewpoints, the air swelled. One shinobi fought for her village, and the Uchiha boy she was desperate to capture.

While the other dreamed nothing of herself, thinking only about the whiskered boy she loved. These contrasting trains of thought didn't hamper the extensive scale of shinobi conflict.

Blaming Tayuya for the loss of her blond teammate, Sakura's emerald gaze was squinted tight. Infused and emboldened by a teal diamond upon her exposed stomach, it grew bright.

The only child from a family of civilian parents, a kunoichi of Konoha and a student of Tsunade. Each a defining aspect of her personality, Sakura pitted life, soul and pride against Tayuya.


Meanwhile.

Carried from harm, Inari watched as jarred mountains of ice rose from the earth below. Manipulated and molded by Haku, this Kekkei Genkai of the Yuki clan was wrought in devastation.

Ambushed on a nightly stroll to the store, Zabuza was missing his fabled blade, left at home. Fleeing to secure the safety of his village, his sandaled soles slapped tiled roof shingles.

Utilizing one-handed seals, the 1st Namikage swiftly employed Ninja Art: Hidden Mist Jutsu. Labeled as a D-rank technique, Zabuza's special chakra added extra density and fog.

Halting his advance in the middle of a hazed street, Haku's ice was the only source of light. Embedded and fused a the tone of crimson, the power of Kokuō was sealed inside him.

Brought to bare by hastily weaved hand seals, he inhaled a breath of air with bulged cheeks. Expelled into a vortex of Ice Style: Glacial Bullets, sharpened shards surged from his mouth.

Met by an independent veil of ice, Paku intercepted this barrage with her own technique. Friends from the past, and shared members of the Yuki clan, they now faced each other in battle.

Unwilling to be left aside, Kahyō joined the fray, shouting words of disbelief and protest. Struggling to drag the iron outline of Kubikiribōchō, its hilt was promptly snagged by Zabuza.

"Go." He barked at his stepson.

Crawling from the disheveled and ice-ridden remnants of a collapsed roof, Inari ran home. Rebuilt and revitalized after the demise of Gato, the village of Kai and its country prospered.

Watched over by the same shinobi who once threatened to destroy it, Zabuza was a guardian. Accepted, admired and appreciated by all in his island nation, he found the love he never had.

Born in the shinobi world, into a systematic repetition of violence, bloodshed and petty rivalry. More than anyone, he understood the burden of loss, the feeling of loneliness and regret.

That's why Zabuza had to maintain this deception, to act a fool in front of his Yuki allies. Joined together, three separate ninja and their skills were allocated as one, to stand against Haku.

However, unlike the shinobi he fought alongside, Zabuza knew a startling truth none did. This scheduled battle was a prelude to Naruto's goal, the dream to create a world of genuine peace.


Meanwhile.

Bursting a barrage of soaped bubbles, Hinata swatted and swept with chakra-infused palms. Pitted against the boiled silhouette of Jūgo, kunoichi fought rogue ninja beneath the late moon.

Losing the boy she once idolized, the teammates she valued and the teacher that trained her. Hinata had grown to experience the horror and travesty of the shinobi world, constant loss.

Embroiled in a hand-to-hand confrontation with the six-tailed demon of Saiken, she stood. Unwilling to backdown, unable to retreat, she'd already lost so much, seeking redemption.

Ducking beneath a muscular and horizontal slash from Jūgo's right arm, black hair rustled. Wincing as wiped wind contorted around her fair face, Byakugan eyes tracked her opponent.

Sprouting a second pair of slimed arms, Jūgo reached with bubbly hands and soaped fists. Safed only by the strength of Ino's Ninjutsu, and the heritage she possessed, her hands were pressed.

Holding an affinity for the iconic element of Konoha, she preformed Fire Style: Running Flames. Molded and guided by invisible chakra, crackled embers swelled into a roaring line of fire.

Spreading into place, a makeshift circle of flame cut off Jūgo's assault, a brief reprieve to battle. However, this C-rank jutsu couldn't stave off his advance for long, drowned by bubbles.

A stalwart beacon of hope, Hinata and Ino stood as once, aided by Ryūzetsu and Sazanami. Faced against the pulsed outline of Jūgo's face, twin tails of slime sprouted from his back.

Employing his own C-rank technique in reply, Jūgo nailed the dragon, tiger and hare hand seals. Bathing the landscape with Water Style: Raging Waves Jutsu, Saiken fueled this liquid.

Lined and paved with explosive bubbles of chakra and soap, its strength grew to A-rank. Dwarfed by the extensive shadows of this vast technique, Ino and Ryūzetsu fell into dismay.

Snarling with bare and grinded teeth, even Sazanami felt hopeless against this stark display. In all his time as a ninja, beholden to years and decades of war, he'd never seen such Ninjutsu.

In the midst of dread and defeat, only Hinata remained resolute, glaring with eyes of white. Scoffing the street below with pressed soles from her shoes, flat palms were raised aloft.

Ignited like cinders of azure and blue, a barrier of transparent nets and chakra took shape. Utilizing a freshly created technique, Hinata molded Eight Trigrams: Sixty Four Palms.

Shaped into a defensive and unique variant of ethereal chakra, bullets of bubbles were blocked. Striking, parrying and bursting each orb, over a thousand were popped in seconds.

Loomed in triumphant, the extreme precision of her jabs left Hinata in a field of victory. The center of attention for every ally present, Ryūzetsu gawked as Sazanami muttered in awe.

Left in utter bewilderment, Ino was devoid of thoughts or words, staring with saucer eyes. The shy and timid girl from class now stood as a stern ninja of Konoha, like fallen friends before.