The Pantheon of Nine
By: Finn Mertenz
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN NARUTO. I DO NOT CLAIM TO OWN NARUTO.
Chapter 137: Lay Me Down! Time To Rest.
Saturday 1:23am, October 25th 58SSP.
Disturbed by the quickened trace of feet, the ocean's surface was struck by Idate. Once a shinobi, and now a samurai, he fought atop drifting pieces of broken debris, completely dry.
Not alone, his strength was emboldened by Mifune, a Daimyo from the Land of Iron. Experienced and honed from decades of combat, his elderly beard wavered beneath a salty breeze.
Dampened by the sound of metal striking metal, Suigetsu brandished Nuibari upright. Parried by the aged blade of Kurosawa, this eight tailed jinchūriki retracted his weapon with thread.
Water quaked and the night sky swirled as deep rumbles roared with dark clouds above. Cloaked by a vast shoreline in the background, the Land of Water rested a stone's throw away.
Gripping one another's wrist, Idate and Mifune spun around a horizontal slash from Nuibari. Separating to avoid serrated thread, this wire of iron eventually rose from the ocean below.
As if he used this blade for decades, Suigetsu's sewing skill was unpaired or matched. Lashing out to meet the swollen wires around them, Kurosawa was illuminated by adjacent lightning.
Wielding the fabled Sword of the Thunder God, Idate howled with the wrath of a Morino. Deflected coils of thread as they began to tighten and constrict, the surrounding air was chilled.
Weaving through a blurred collection of hand seals, Ao's cheeks bulged with held breathe. Employing Water Style: Water Fang Bullet, spiraled torrents of liquid jutted from the surface.
Unwilling to halt his assault, Ao also utilized Water Style: Liquid Bullets, expunged in haste. As this uncountable swarm poured from his mouth, twirling pillars of nearby water solidified.
Losing the clones he previously employed, Suigetsu snickered, revealing a shark-like smile. Carrying three of Kiri's sacred blades, he juggled Nuibari into its sheath, replaced by Shibuki.
Sharing the same name as the Daimyo from the Land of Waterfalls, this blade was raised. An encircled girth with a metallic scroll incorporated into it, a sharpened edge jutted in front.
Swung in response to Ao's attack, the ocean below was parted by stark explosions of soot. Ignited by vibrant black kanji, the sword of Shibuki was engulfed by rippled waves of smoke.
Carving a massive ravine into the bottomless void beneath, the battlefield was parted far. Jumping from the length of this spread crevasse, Ao, Idate and Mifune ran from volatile water.
Reaching from this void-filled cavern, five tan and sickly tentacles protruded into sight. Each the size of gigantic oak trees, they swayed and swashed, turning the ocean into chaos.
While a stiffened tentacle rushed, Chōjūrō's wet feet stood atop harsh and churning waves. Hiramekarei was brandished upright, held aloft and cocooned in a radiant aura of blue.
Maintaining control of a singular hilt, Hiramekarei's opposing half was lost in the depths below. But that didn't deter the rigid will, roaring like a cascaded vortex inside its young user.
Colliding with the partially transformed outline of Gyūki, its tentacle was cut into two pieces. Plummeting with the weight of a comet, Chōjūrō's glasses were splashed with salty droplets.
Just a week before his 16th birthday, this youthful shinobi was embroiled in a fight for survival. A conflict that would define the age and herald a new era, beyond mortal complaint.
Meanwhile.
"You can't be serious..." Temari panted with exhaustion.
Baked beneath rays from the sparkled moon, this scoffed kunoichi sought to catch her breathe. Faced with the rippled and amethyst eyes of Naruto, the streets of Uzushio were crowded.
"His art is pretty explosive." Deidara combed his golden scalp.
Cackling aloud, Kisame's laughter was muffled by the shredded and dark growls of Samehada. Tattered and torn, once pristine linen was damaged from hours of combat and Ninjutsu.
"If we stand as one, we will prevail." Guy rallied his fellow Kage.
All cloaked and basked by a lingering cloud of dust, multi-colored kanji rustled, sewn into fabric. Representing their own nation, land and village, five Kage stood like an army of might.
"I agree!" A bellowed.
Sneering with a detestable glare, A's teeth became clenched and tight, cracking under weight. Pupils were focused and trained upon Naruto's whiskered cheeks, the face of a terrorist.
Once, the 4th Raikage was distant and distrustful of neighboring nations, unwilling to trust. However, the death of his brother, combined with the defection of all jinchūriki was too much.
Taking a single step forward, the static aura around him tore a tangible hole through the air. Uprooting the coral-coated brick beneath his advance, a muscular fist was launched.
Met by popped joints and stretched muscles, a flat palm intercepted this hardened punch. Constricting forces were so great, an ancient skyscraper of stone was dislodged at its base.
Traumatized by this sudden interference, Temari's mouth fell open as Deidara swept his bangs. Using the scope on his left eye, he frantically searched for his missing ally to no avail.
Breaking this concentration, a pulverized beam of particles was propelled towards his blind spot. Avoided only by hastily shedding his robe, Deidara rolled to the ground as cloth was stuck.
Suspended in the air, Ōnoki gazed with lifeless eyes, possessing grey and darkened sclerae. Also, A was matched by the lumbering bulk and chiseled hull of his father, the 3rd Raikage.
Wasting no time to delay, Guy's feet scurried forth, carried by a pulsating blanket of green. Halted in place by equal force, Might Duy held his son with stiff palms, wrestling over earth.
Mesmerized by this forbidden display of Impure World Reincarnation, Kisame giggled aloud. Swinging Samehada to lend aid, he was parried by the uneven staff of Yagura, dead and alive.
Utilizing the imbalanced hook upon the edge of his weapon, the 4th Mizukage steadily twirled. The only one free, Temari unlatched her fan, throwing it open and eclipsing the moon above.
Swept vertically, a gale of wind crashed against Temari's thrashing current, a familiar sense. Eroded beneath these howling torrents, nearby brick became sundered under the weight.
Stuck in place by the vision of her eyes, they swelled to the size of unblinking saucers of teal. Unable to aid her teammates, the lifeless eyes in front of her were distracted by the past.
Standing in front of her daughter, Karura held discolored sclerae and partially flaked skin. Alive but dead at the same time, she was a haunting reminder of the innocence Temari lost.
"I wonder... Do you hate me now?" Naruto groaned.
Reviving souls of the departed, he manipulated fallen legends and heroes from the past. Giving shape, form and thought to these ninja of old, he forced them to fight those they loved.
Meanwhile.
Unleashing a swirling barrage of blades, shuriken were swiftly thrown in rapid haste. Directed and tossed by Matsuri, these spinning edges were strengthened by chakra-infused wind.
Jutting and plunged into a granular barrier of sand, Gaara blockaded this violent attack. Followed up by a hail of Golden Dust, Rasa's technique was masterfully controlled by Kankūro.
Watching this fierce battle from the sidelines, Baki's sole eye was narrow and squinted. Tsunami's of grain crashed against boundless waves of dust, both lit by the shining moon above.
In truth, Gaara was responsible for much loss and desolation, the legacy he left behind. First his own mother, then names and faces beyond count, including the parents of Matsuri.
But this reality was forced upon him, a burden all jinchūriki were repetitively wrought by. A demon, a freak, an outcast, many ideals and slanderous insults were flung at mere children.
Now, the shinobi world faced the consequences of their actions, met by rogue demons. Determined to defeat his demented brother, Kankūro leapt atop a stream of gold, riding it.
Strained to trail after her ally, Matsuri was embroiled against various whips of sand. Parried, dodged and deflected by the iron arm-guards she wore, she surged back with gliding feet.
While each sibling specialized in range combat, that didn't hinder Kankūro's resolve. Consumed by a layer of Golden Dust, he jumped towards his young brother, led by a raised foot.
Catching this hardy kick with the help of sand, Gaara was overshadowed by his sibling. Granulized skin cracked and dusty hair rustled as stray fists were thrust, caught and hurled.
Stricken by contortion and frequent movement, Gaara's gourd slipped from his shoulder. Shattered into a dozen pieces as it impacted the sandy dunes below, feet scuffled past.
Always faster and taller than his younger brother, Kankūro maneuvered through his defense. Throwing a gold-coated fist, it demolished a makeshift veil of sand, striking Gaara's cheek.
Propelled back, this crimson-haired jinchūriki skid, twirled and flipped over numbered dunes. Promptly flustered with desire, Matsuri's clasped hands weaved into a degree of Ninjutsu.
Preforming a B-ranked technique, four chunks of rock were uprooted from adjacent sand. Molded into Earth Style: Rock Shuriken Jutsu, their edges were honed as they spun in rotation.
Sent forth with the colossal weight of a tumbling mountain, sand parted beneath them. Blindly striking the dust-covered location Gaara previously landed, Matsuri swallowed spit.
"I'm bleeding!" Gaara howled.
First humane and sincere, this distinct voice was quickly changed and infected by laughter. Dispersing the stuffed cloud around him, Shukaku took control, allowing a tangible tail to form.
Disfigured and barely recognizable, portions of his arms, legs and neck slowly turned to sand. As red ichor dripped from his mouth, teeth turned jagged and ghastly, forming a wicked grin.
Another reminder from the past, Shukaku's rampage could only be stopped by one thing, dust. As heavy and dense as gold, even from the grave, Rasa fought the dreaded one tails.
Meanwhile.
'What was it that drove a person to action?' A fine question, resonating abound without delay. If you asked Meng or Olivia, they'd struggle and fumble to find an answer, unobtainable.
With twin tails of sapphire, a demonic roar singed nearby stone and wood, seared to ash. Unable to compete with the stagnant flames around, Makapu Village burned to cinders.
Continuously drenched by sweetened rain, this Jutsu of the Kamizuru clan soaked the land. Standing as one, ninja from Yu and Iwa worked together, regardless of past transgression.
Devoid of any normal appearance, Karin's transformation was complete, fiery and azure. Glaring with heterochromatic pupils, the left resembled an emerald while the right was yellow.
In the wild, Matatabi would be the size of a mountain, gigantic, ancient and untamable. But here, corralled by the focus and psyche of Karin, blue flames were thralled and concentrated.
The size of an average lion, the environment sweltered and oozed beneath extreme heat. No flesh or bones, Matatabi's outline consisted solely of sapphire, a thousand embers together.
Charging with speed beyond measure, once prestigious earth was charred in mere seconds. Dazed by trepidation and anxiety, Meng flinched, tripping over her own feet in panic and fear.
Missing the distinct staff she always twirled, even Olivia recoiled in dread, defenseless. Too far to intervene, the siblings Kurobachi and Suzumebachi helplessly watched from a roof.
Saved only by the curved girth of hand-held scythe, a grey-colored robe shrouded Meng. Embellished with the ornate and sewn kanji for 'five' the 5th Jokage shielded his daughter.
A hero to his village, the Genin childhood friend of Hidan, and a father, Kazan was famed. Blown aside by stoic currents of wind, his saucer-shaped Kage hat soared above the skyline.
Highlighted by the sparkling moon overhead, his bald scalp glimmered like polished jewels. Wielding a pair of Kusarigama connect by iron chains, they barely withstood Matatabi.
Strained and faced with an ethereal and fiery paw of blue, the 5th Jokage nervously sweated. Rescued by a bubbly barrage of honey, these amber orbs were launched over his left shoulder.
Blobbed and stricken by solidified liquid, Matatabi screeched before clawing at her eyes. Instinctively raising a sharpened claw aloft, Kazan recoiled in reply, swiftly running away.
Grabbing Olivia and his daughter, he ran with speed, jumping over stray crates and barrels. Cloaking this retreat, the siblings of Kamizuru weaved identical hand seals, like a blur.
As Kazan dashed down an alley, the entrance was covered by a rushing and sweet waterfall. Condensed, Honey Style: Gushing Wave caused Kurobachi and Suzumebachi to gag.
Instantly reached by the horrific pitch of a demon, Matatabi flung a sole paw against earth. Ignited into a cataclysmic eruption of azure soot and white ash, it sprawled and spread.
Consuming over half of Makapu Village, Kazan continued to flee, trailed by allies from Iwa. Surging from the reach of Matatabi's explosion, bright light swallowed the landscape.
Meanwhile.
Imprisoned by spears of scarlet coral, Ranmaru was pinned against a dilapidated wall. Elderly, experienced and renown, even Gennō was trapped, shrouded by dazzled moonlight.
Attempting to stand, Raiga coughed blood, suffering five broken ribs and a right arm. Beaten and bruised by the hot-headed jinchūriki of Isobu, the blades of Kiba rested beside him.
The only opposition to total annihilation, Sakura shielded her injured friends from Tayuya. Each bathed in conflicting auras of tone, one stood with a blanket of green while the other was red.
Meeting one another months ago, during cheerful celebration's before the Chunin Exam. A moment that felt a lifetime away, because so much had changed and so much was lost.
First the 3rd Hokage died, culminating into the desertion and defection of Naruto. Then, Choji, Kakashi, Kiba, Shino and Kurenai all fell in combat, earning deaths worthy of shinobi.
Could Sakura not attain that same privilege? The pride her former classmates gained. This was her driving factor, finally growing past Sasuke and the childish obsession from her youth.
In opposition to this realization, Tayuya fought only for the whiskered boy she cherished. She had no one else, no family, clan or village to call her own, finding value in a cute boy.
Muffled by popping joints, fists slammed against one another, radiating might and chakra. Bones previously shattered were hardened into coral-like adamant, withstanding chaos.
Exchanging clenched hands with such speed, jagged coral protruded around Tayuya's feet. Glowing and exposed, the Strength of a Hundred Seal upon Sakura's stomach was aflame.
Ensnared, trapped hands wrestled crimson-coated palms, dampened by stretched ligaments. Piercing the earth with exposed toes, Sakura's sandal carved a miniature ravine in moments.
Downwind from this onslaught of debris, Tayuya rolled for cover, cocooned by coral below. Unwilling to delay, Sakura swiftly appeared atop an overbearing roof, lined with shingles.
Throwing a countable hail of poisoned senbon, Tayuya pulled a silver flute from her sleeves. Used to parry and deflect razor-like tips, faint chords of music permeated the horizon.
Allowing a dagger of coral to grow and detach from her free palm, she swept it like a blade. Clashed and scraped against the stained and scoffed skin of Sakura, their battle raged.
No objects or effort was spared, tossing dislodged chunks of rock and rusted street lights. Barely repaired from Jūgo's rampage, poorly-nailed buildings were torn asunder by wind.
Embroiled in this hand-to-hand debacle for minutes without pause, the moon shone above. Eventually, a boiled and transparent tail sprouted from Tayuya's lower back, flailing.
Transcending her limits, the seal on Sakura's stomach began to spread a colored mixture. First violet, then a faded tint of green as artful lines sprawled, covering every limb and angle.
Emboldened by this startling surge of power, she was an equal opponent for Isobu's jinchūriki. In fact, the Sage-like might she inherited allowed her to trip, batter and brawl Tayuya.
Forever struggling with a short temper, Tayuya howled with rage as her pale cheek was struck. Blossoming into a second tail, her petite outline was caked and coated by chakra.
A scale of conflict beyond Genin, Chunin or Jonin, jumbled fists swelled into cataclysmic degree. Resembling a battle between legends, instead of children, age didn't hinder them.
As teeth became honed and sharp, Tayuya formed a wicked grin, baring daggers of pearl white. More than Konoha, or the irrelevant village they fought inside, its importance was clear.
To end the era of shinobi, a self-professed goal instilled, spoken, yearned and desired by Naruto. Willing to give anything and everything for her boy, Tayuya would stop at nothing.
Meanwhile.
Embraced by a flickering blanket of emerald, Isaribi's teeth grew, becoming pointed like razors. Also, the scales upon her merged and morphed, taking the texture of hardened skin.
Facing this menace alone, a short journey from Bamboo Village, Dosu resembled a guardian. A hunched back and a bandaged scalp was all that stood behind the destruction of his land.
Like his opponent, indeed, like most ninja, Dosu understood the resonance of being orphaned. Permanently scarred, damaged and tossed aside by the shinobi world of conflict and rage.
But then, he found others that believed in him, citizens, civilians and children in need of aid. Feeding on this knowledge, the 4th Dokage was unfazed by the demonic enemy he faced.
The target of Isaribi's ire, she clasped her hands with heavy weight, sundering nearby earth. Holding puffed cheeks, she unleashed a torrential beam of viridescent flames, condensed.
Weaving his own hand seals, the metallic scrap of Dosu's gauntlet emanated the tree-line. Dispersed like a rippled shockwave, visible sound collided against crackling cinders and soot.
Unable to halt this extreme blaze, the environment was consumed, torched and seared. Flipping backwards over a dozen times, the 4th Dokage leapt from the heated inferno that came.
Vertically jumping atop an overbearing tree-branch, the swipe of his armored hand flung. Propelling a numbered barrage of volatile bullets, concentrated sound surged forward.
Piercing the fiery cloud that continued to swell, Dosu's technique swiftly denotated inside. Robbed of its oxygen and chakra, Isaribi's flames abruptly frizzled into dry and flaked ash.
Following up on this assault, Isaribi blindsided Dosu from behind, cocooned by green fire. Saved only by the netted thread of chakra, it's hue and tone were as orange as carnelian gems.
Directed by Sasame, glimmered strands of hair was freed, losing her beanie in a steep fall. This intervention was welcomed, but uncapable of diluting the sweltered flames of Isaribi.
Struck by an enflamed foot, Dosu was hurled through several trees, breaking each in half. Halting Isaribi's advance, a thousand butterflies swirled around her, glowing bright and radiant.
Saving her Kage and friend, Kagerō's eyes held an identical color to sapphire, sparkling. Sharing this dazzled sensation with the butterflies she employed, they flew in a rapid circle.
Attempting to break this flashing tornado, Isaribi's fingertips became singed and burnt. Cauterized to the bone, no pain or emotion was expressed, sneering with bare and jagged teeth.
Waving her hands, Kagerō's swarm inched closer to their target, draining energy from air. Evolving into a gigantic vortex of light, an ignition of azure swallowed hundreds of trees.
Yanked aside by whipped strings of orange, Dosu was pulled from this consumption of blue. However, the linen around his head and neck was caught by dislodged embers and sparks.
Hastily unrolling these bandages, a head of black hair was exposed, needled and spiked. Protruding in every direction and path, a scar was slanted horizontally over an eclipsed gaze.
Forever closed, even his naked face was defined by a singular pupil, an unblinking left eye. The same sable and stygian tone as his hair, this sole glare was undeterred and unfazed.
In his youth, as a homeless orphan, Dosu was regularly beaten, bruised and injured. But the wounds upon his face were a badge of pride, hard-won and praised for Oto's preservation.
Oblivious to his own appearance, Dosu quickly regained his balance, standing upright. Met by the rabid and demonic howls of Isaribi, clenched fists battered her small chest like an ape.
Scarred and torched by Kagerō's Butterfly Style Jutsu, portions of her robe were gone. Fingertips were black while the ghastly deformations upon her skin sizzled with purple pus.
As canine fangs swelled in size, an aura of green boiled and bubbled with seared heat. Sprouting two tails in moments, they crackled and swayed from side-to-side, permeating.
As hot and blazed as the interior of a volcano, the chakra of Son Gokū grew vibrant. Opening her mouth to roar, a beam of emerald was launch, spewing sweltered and fiery cinders.
Biting the naked fingertips upon his left hand, Dosu slammed a flatten palm to the earth. Sprawling from this flesh, an ornate circle of kanji spread and stretched, engulfed by smoke.
"Summoning Jutsu: Rashomōn!" Dosu rang.
Bridging grass-covered dirt, metallic protrusions rose, laden with rusted chains of iron. Designed to look frightening, it was Dosu's perfect defense, trained and taught by Orochimaru.
Reaching the height of 20ft, weighted bells dangled off the side, striking the alloy beneath. Swallowed as swiftly as it appeared, the flames of Gokū washed over it like water on rock.
But, Dosu was saved from this cataclysmic onslaught, crouched behind his lower Rashomōn. Forced to sweat as iron overhead melted and flaked, turning to ash like the adjacent forest.
It felt like a life time ago when this ninja from Oto infiltrated the rustic village of Konoha. Because now, he was but a stalwart and loyal ally to their nation, worthy of the Dokage title.
Meanwhile.
Riding currents of ice over frozen rooftops, Paku chased her young childhood friend. Barely recognizable, Haku's expression was veiled by the raised collar from his Akatsuki attire.
Leaping over a horizontal slash from Kubikiribōchō, Haku's feet gracefully rested upon it. Emanating a strange mixture of heated but frigid red steam, the power of Kokuō was ancient.
Evading a thrown hail of icy senbon from his estranged cousin, Haku drifted across an alley. Clasping each palm in midair, a dozen seals were weaved before he touched the roof.
Lunging towards the student Zabuza taught and trained, a humongous horn jutted in front of him. Blocking the alley, this impaler of the deep was attached to a gigantic and hidden beast.
Dividing sections of Kai in two, Haku summoned Ice Style: Red Whale Jutsu from the ocean. Mountainous and snowy, its surface was devoid of skin, constructed from crimson ice.
Matching this display with her own might, Paku's nimble hands summoned forth extreme snow. Known as Ice Style: White Dragon Blizzard, a screech of grinding glaciers echoed.
Beholden to two masterful techniques from the Yuki clan, the landscape was bathed by flakes. Ice cracked and shattered while clumps of dislodged snow plummeted to the street.
Watching this occupation from atop a grassy knoll of the horizon, Inari swallowed a wad of spit. Cupping his shoulder, Tazuna and Tsunami stood behind him, illuminated by the moon.
The same shinobi that terrorized their land months ago, Zabuza was their singular ray of hope. The Namikage of their village, a veteran of combat, and a former Swordsmen of the Mist.
Sacred and revered, the iron edge of Kubikiribōchō was sprayed with sparks, deflecting red ice. Stricken by weighted air, Kahyō helplessly watched from an unshingled rooftop.
Like the battling kunoichi in front of her, she was a proud member of the historic Yuki clan. But, the battle she beheld was beyond her level, reaching the height of Kage-style combat.
Unable to overwhelm their opponent, the colossal height of twin snowy techniques fought. Seeking the tip the scales in Paku's favor, Zabuza plunged his blade into the street below.
Pressing sleeve-covered palms together, they danced through blurred arrays of formation. Drawing melted snow and liquid from the environment, water rapidly spiraled around him.
"Water Style: Water Dragon Jutsu!" Zabuza shouted.
As snowflakes abruptly fell from the night sky, their crystalized form and chakra was consumed. Adding further strength and vigor to Zabuza's technique, his dragon roared with droplets.
Breaking the stalemate between azure and scarlet ice, chakra-infused water washed over both. Drowning half of Kai in the process, disheveled chunks of red ice broke and tumbled.
Shadowed by a massive piece of frozen debris, Haku glared with unblinking eyes of hazel. However, these colored pupils were swiftly enthralled by demonic and primordial might.
Adopting red-lined marks beneath each eye, they changed to a dark mixture of blue and green. Swollen and engorged, he became the epicenter of heated steam and visible radiation.
Struck by this sweltering wave, the ice above instantly boiled into a sprinkled hail of rainfall. Sizzled and evaporated beneath the frosty and red steam of Haku's display, cold but hot.
Empowered by two tails of scarlet that perpetually swayed, the power of Kokuō was stark. Adorned with an Iron Armor Seal on his left cheek, it grew as bright as the clouds he wore.
Wrapped around his right index finger, the former ring of Deidara sat, created by Nagato himself. Colored teal and scribbled with miniature kanji from chakra-rods, it shone under moonlight.
Suddenly, two tails became spilt and divided, splintered into four, ethereal but tangible the same. One tail from a complete transformation, Haku's body suffered drastic change.
Strands of black hair turned snow white, spreading a similar appearance to each of his tails. Coated with coarse but pristine fur, there tips were a distinct tone of tan and brown.
Forced to fight the same student he once taught, Zabuza's dilemma was matched by Paku. Faced with the best friend from her childhood, their ice was opposing colors of red and blue.
Meanwhile.
With bare and clenched fists, Hinata fought the jinchūriki of Saiken, evading drops of slime. Straining to visibly follow this battle, Sazanami and Ryūzetsu gawked while Ino trembled.
One of the youngest students from her graduating class, at the age of 12, she already understood. Experienced in the loss, pain and reality that was sadly so frequent in the shinobi world.
Each hand was engulfed by fiery chakra, defined by a strict tone of azure, baring twin fangs. Utilizing Gentle Step: Twin Lion Fists, hidden and kept secret by the main branch of her clan.
Wrought against the destructive force of three tails, Saiken was halfway through transformation. Scarcely human, Jūgo's mouth was unlatched and spread wide, sadistically cackling.
Slick and slimy, his throat held the appearance of a stricken maw, oozed and coated in wet pus. Half of his face was bubbled and boiled, engorged by a countless array of white pimps.
Infecting more of his outline with passing moment, soon, portions of an orange scalp were drowned. Taking another step towards a Perfect Possession, a fourth tail hastily sprouted.
Consuming the entirety of his upper right torso, Jūgo's limb melted into a thickened stream of white. Replaced by a bipedal and stubby arm of slime, each drop corroded the landscape.
Protruding from atop his skull, Jūgo's right eye was swallowed, giving rise to a sickly alternative. A prominent optical tentacle dangled high above, a pupil as blue as the ocean.
Cowering in the face of such horror, Ino's back rested against a dilapidated wall of rickety wood. Even Sazanami and Ryūzetsu, Jonin from their respective villages, were scared still.
Only Hinata bothered to defy the horrifying force in front of her, boldly charging without delay. Leaping forward, she engaged the jinchūriki of Saiken in stunning hand-to-hand combat.
A Genin, the feats she displayed were easily Jonin-level, proving her place among the Hyuga clan. Disinherited, she still fought with the grace of her family line, forcing Jūgo to stumble back.
Are you watching me? Hinata was in an isolated world.
In the past, she was always timid and distant, depressed and nervous from her father's scorn. Now, moving beyond the baggage from her childhood, she was a kunoichi above many.
Over a dozen faces independently shifted through her mind, first her mother, father and sister. Then, the expressions of Neji, Kiba, Shino and Kurenai, encompassed by all classmates.
During those days, Hinata perpetually walked behind her friends, unable to catch up to them. But at this moment, she ran ahead of everyone, a warrior and ninja in her own rite.
I was always forced to watch you back then... She drifted over numbered faces.
Imbued by these memories, and the realization that her friends were endangered, Hinata swelled. Radiating flickered embers of blue chakra from clenched fists, she struck Jūgo's stomach.
Propelled back with the weight of a falling avalanche, he crashed through several homes and huts. Unwilling to pause, Hinata continued her assault, chasing the jinchūriki she battled.
Now, you'll have to watch me! Her resolve was adamant.
Meanwhile.
Eclipsed by the natural cliffside of Taki, the night sky was bridged by rainfall and a sparkled moon. Crying "Lightning Style: Thunderbolt" and "Water Style: Severing Wave" in unison.
The casters of these techniques, Omoi and Kegon combined their Jutsu into one swale of might. Facing their steep merge of chakra, Fuu's minty green hair wavered and rustled.
Partially veiled by the extended fabric from her outfit, the flick of her wrist unleashed insects. Shaped into a spiraling torrent, beetles chattered while wings spread and flapped.
Using her own wings, Fuu soared after launching her attack, shining beneath rays of moonlight. Below, mixed wind and water collided against a dense swarm of hissing insects.
Normal bugs would've been splintered, shaved and demolished, but not Fuu's special beetles. Emboldened and fueled by Chōmei's chakra, her jinchūriki held perfect control and calm.
"Water Style: Liquid Bullets!" Shibuki's cheeks bulged.
Inhaling a vast breathe of air, this substance was swiftly kneaded with chakra in his stomach. Expunged into a barrage of solidified water, they rushed through the darkened skyline.
Evading these hardened orbs, Fuu flew and swayed, gifted agility from her insectile wings. Surging to the earth, Omoi and Kegon were blown aside, outmatched by Kage-level combat.
Preforming a highly-advanced technique of Taijutsu, the Hidden Waterfall Hurricane came to life. A similar offshoot to Konoha's Leaf Hurricane, it was a midair assault of muscle.
Enveloped by a viridescent aura, Fuu's shuttered fist flung forth, slicing through winded currents. Attempting to batter her former friend, Shibuki evaporated into a puddle at the last moment.
Obliterating the ground she struck, a geyser of dust, rock and debris rose above the night sky. Eclipsing dimly lit clouds, Fuu flew from the crumbled remnants of her lethal onslaught.
However, her escape was quickly trailed by Shibuki, surpassing the stoic memory of his father. Earning the praise of Senji, the respect of his villagers, and the admiration of his shinobi.
Emerging in midair, droplets of water took shape into his outline, weaving quickened hand seals. Blindsiding the bestfriend from his childhood, Shibuki maneuvered behind Fuu's back.
Masterfully enabling Water Style: Liquid Beast Jutsu, chakra-infused water poured from his mouth. Molded into the silhouette of a gigantic wolf, moonlight sparkled through its form.
Surprised by the movement of her opponent, Fuu had just enough time to glance over her shoulder. Consumed and blown by powerful swales of lively water, her hair became drenched.
Seeking to enhance this lethal assault, Karui and Yōrō lunged forth with their own abilities. Foul-mouthed with crimson hair, the flawless hilt of Karui's katana was gripped by both hands.
Hastily grabbing the sealed scrolls attached to his flak jacket, Yōrō tossed them into the air. Flung open by the chakra-infused clap of each palm into the tiger seal, paper spread.
Highlighting the kanji scribbled upon them, there black words swiftly turned a hue of azure. Releasing a chaotic tsunami of salty sea water, the environment beyond was drowned.
Experienced in Fūinjutsu, Yōrō used twin scrolls to draw water directly from the distant ocean. Promptly empowered by a vertically sword swipe from Karui's foreign blade of Kumo.
Meanwhile.
Surrounded on all sides, Suigetsu fought four opponents at once, each skilled and trained. Idate and Mifune slashed with blades of samurai, while Ao used flat palms like a Hyuga.
Also, Chōjūrō maintained control of Hiramekarei, holding a singular hilt of its sacred blade. Parried and battered against the blade of Shibuki, the explosive seals upon it grew bright.
Leaping backwards to a safe distance, Chōjūrō gawked at a sizzled geyser of scorched liquid. Spewing singed and steamed droplets in every direction, heated vapor cloaked the horizon.
Rising from the ocean's surface below, Suigetsu's free arm was wrapped under threaded wire. With one hand, he wielded Shibuki, while the other manipulated Nuibari like a master.
More than just his blades, Mifune and Idate also possessed legendary and renowned weapons. The Daimyo and delegate for the Land of Iron, Mifune brandished Kurosawa with prestige.
The greatest teacher and student of Laidō in existence, his specialty was quick, but graceful. In contrast, Idate's howling outline was enveloped by pulsing arcs of static blue lightning.
An heir of the Morino clan, and a descendant of Konoha, the Sword of the Thunder God was his. Entrusted to make the right decision, to defend the new nation and village he called home.
Moving with the highest degree of Jonin-level speed, Ao preformed the Rat, Dog and Ox seals. Contorted and shaped into a thinned stream of water, this lasso was twirled and thrown.
Ensnaring Suigetsu's left wrist, he sought to restrain the entirety of his arm, viciously wrestling. Taking advantage of this moment, Idate, Mifune and Chōjūrō all dashed to confront him.
Already swarmed by five tentacles that swayed behind him, Suigetsu snickered with a toothy grin. Sprouting a sixth tail, the weight from this eruption of chakra carved a crater in place.
Instantly overwhelmed by this shockwave of power, Ao's technique dissolved under pressure. Forcibly propelled backwards, Mifune and Chōjūrō were also stricken by this harsh echo.
Frozen in place atop a piece of driftwood, Idate gazed at a tangible aura of approaching blue. Barricaded at last by a dark teal bandana and a black trench coat, he became blinded.
Taking the brunt of Suigetsu's advancing chakra, Idate was oblivious to Ibiki's scarred face. Reaching the battlefield just in time to save his little brother, he glanced over his own collar.
Using himself as a shield, the pain he experienced was nothing compared to his family. Like his mother and father before him, Ibiki would risk everything for those that he loved.
Hollowing the watery landscape beneath light beyond recognition, too bright to possibly see. That didn't hinder the joy Ibiki distributed, proud of the path his sibling walked, a Morino.
