The Pantheon of Nine

By: Finn Mertenz

A/N: Godloves - It's never been about me, no one comes here for me, no one at all. As an author, I have a responsibility to discern between valid or petty criticism.

For example, without Makapu's introduction, the arc for Meng and Kazan is hollow. Their appearance in the 4th Shinobi War would mean nothing if they weren't developed.

It's important to understand, everyone has their favorite character they relate too. Some people want to focus on Idate, or Dosu, or Konohamaru, and I respect that.

One delves into Naruto's life after Iruka, accepting his death and celebrating his last birthday. Another explores the future of Tayuya, Karin and the shinobi world.

Some develop the Land of Sound, giving more depth to Sasame and Dosu as a whole. Even the Land of Snow highlights Tayuya's emotion, a theme of her growth.

Everything has contributed to this final arc, to show; not tell, that characters have grown. Karin, Tayuya, Gaara, Naruto and more have all been changed by these events.

If I remove a single chapter, one tiny arc, plot threads and character development suffers. That's what makes a story, the driving goal for every reader to see what happens next.

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


Chapter 138: No More! Howls Of Shinobi.

Saturday 3:37am, October 25th 58SSP.

Ligaments stretched as muscles popped and throbbed between mountainous pressure. Wrestling with the might of giants, Might Guy stood face-to-face with his deceased father, Might Duy.

Permanently cocooned by a swishing aura of green, the 4th Gate: Gate of Pain swayed. Skin was bright red with white eyes devoid of pupils and strands of hair that stood up on their ends.

In stark contrast to his son, the living but undead Duy possessed darkened sclerae. Glaring with pupils that held no color or tone, each sclerae began to swirl with changing hues.

Taking the appearance of grey, the 5th Hokage beheld a genuine gaze from his father. Resurrected and restored with emotion, the redeemed body he inhabited didn't answer his commands.

Forced to fight the son he raised and loved, limp limbs deflected concrete jabs of green. A battle of Taijutsu beyond expression, Duy's pale body was beyond mortal wounds or damage.

Preforming technique's against his will, Duy rushed through the 1st, 2nd and 3rd Gates. Achieving the same forbidden Jutsu as his son, the streets of Uzushio beheld extreme combat.

Gathering the will to speak, Duy gasped, noticing the crimson colored kanji upon Guy's back. No longer was he some no-name Genin, struggling to find acceptance for his lack of skill.

Now, Might Guy stood as the strongest shinobi in his village, the fabled 5th Hokage of Konoha. Earning this title and praise through nothing but hard work, effort and determination.

"The Hokage... A fine accomplishment." Duy smirked.

Forced to separate, a column of tumbled brick fell between this battling father and son duo. Bathed beneath chaotic chakra, the floating village of Uzushio resembled a worn battlefield.

"But, I'm sorry... You'll have to fight me." He bowed his head.

Struggling to fight his own reflexes, Duy charged, instilled by the mental command of his caster. Pitting fatherly love against a son's youth, Naruto leisurely sat atop a slanted roof.

Cloaked legs dangled off the side, covered by rustling fabric from the black robes he wore. Scarlet clouds upon this outfit beamed with radiant light below the sparkling moon above.

Enraged by this carefree sight, A sought to annihilate this terroristic threat to his home village. Forever defined by rampant use of Lightning Style Armor, his chakra was visible and static.

Moving at the speed of light, the 4th Raikage hoped to end this exchange in one strong blow. Teleporting to the roof Naruto sat on, his flung and clenched fist was equally matched.

Not by the whiskered blond he dreamed to destroy, but the resurrected outline of his father. Enveloped by an identical aura of lightning, their conflicting swells of chakra zapped.

Rigid and stern, muscular and stout, A was brought to traumatized silence and trepidation. For all his strength and power, he was faced against the one man he feared and respected.

"I spent years grooming you, training you and testing you." The 3rd Raikage grinned.

"Now, show me what you've learned." Words were chuckled.

Bypassing the apparent defense his son employed, A struck this bulked child in the chest. Sharing the same name, title and love for their village, the only difference was time and age.

The new versus the old, one generation pitted against another, deciding the fate of all shinobi. Even Deidara was face-to-face with Ōnoki, suspended in mid-air by usage of Dust Style.

Sclerae that was once black turned grey, a faint match for the colorless pupils Ōnoki possessed. More than just a reanimated corpse, the 3rd Tsuchikage held memories from the past.

"This is your chance, youngster." Ōnoki snickered.

Having more fun than he should, the 3rd Tsuchikage required no mental command to action. Hands clasped with the weight of pressured diamond, unleashing an audible ripple of sound.

Shaped into the Snake Seal, adjacent brick was corralled and molded by Ōnoki's elderly chakra. Preforming Earth Style: Rock Golem Jutsu, this behemoth of stone rose like a giant.

Permanently scarred by Sasuke, Deidara only retained one arm, delving into a satchel of clay. Hastily chewing with the mouth inside his palm, this flat flesh was slammed against earth.

Employing his own golem, Deidara's technique was infused with the texture and tone of clay. Flinging a hardened fist of white, it collided with Ōnoki's flawless depiction of Earth Style.

Triggered by the Seal of Confrontation, it resembled a half-tiger seal, regularly employed. To some, it was a symbol of honor between shinobi, but Deidara had other intentions.

Utilized to ignite the fiery boom in his Jutsu, Deidara's use of Explosion Style was perfected. Swallowing three entire streets beneath a blanket of ash, soot and dust, fire seared clouds.

Temari could offer nothing in aid or supplies, distracted by parental dilemma and past bonds. Blinding gawking at the sincere face of her mother, Karura was bought back from the grave.

"You're using my old fan?! How precious." Karura giggled.

Even with the unworldly and faded grey appearance of her eyes, this mother gazed with love. Once a distinguished Wind Style user of Suna, she died giving birth to her baby boy, Gaara.

Complimenting the weaponry, attire, title, skills and hair of her daughter, laughter was unending. Filled with an emotional high from seeing the little girl she birthed, raised and loved.

In truth, these kunoichi of Suna held similar appearances, like vibrant eyes of glimmered teal. Their skin was fair from exposure to the sun, and hair was a sandy shade of dirty blond.

Unable to halt the telepathic orders inside, Karura swiftly raised each palm, pressed together. A veteran from the 2nd Shinobi War, she grew beyond the simple usage of fans or tools.

"Wind Style: Great Breach." She verbally warned her daughter.

Positioning the unlatched and metallic outline of her fan, Temari's feet dug into disheveled dirt. Swung in defense, this prized tool swept a swirling vortex into existence, a steep swale.

Known as Wind Style: Raging Gale Wall, chunks of stone became dislodged by howling currents. This was the ruin of Uzushio, destroyed decades ago, yet, still suffering from shinobi.

Kisame himself wielded a growling and partially unwrapped Samehada, parried by an iron hook. With jagged teeth, he smiled at his young predecessor, revived and raised from undeath.

"I never took you for the leading type..." Yagura groaned.

Scales of Samehada shredded unbreakable alloy as the 4th Mizukage fought against the 6th. Time and time again, Kage-level feats ravaged the coral-coated landscape of Uzushio.

Beholden to all of this, Naruto's vision of amethyst was unblinking, shallow and empty. Shrouded behind the heightened collar of red clouded robes, arms were consumed by dark sleeves.

Watching the strange sight before him, wardens and champions from the past were his. Controlled and manipulated by Forbidden Jutsu beyond the permit of any nation, land or village.

Oblivious to the cataclysmic destruction abound, his expression was care-free and aloft. Visually isolated by far-off thoughts, he dreamed of the end, a final slot in the puzzle of peace.


Meanwhile.

As fingertips were awash in chakra of sapphire, Kankūro was blanketed by his puppet. The wooden hull and silhouette of Rasa, a trail of Golden Dust was sprinkled in a circle around him.

More than his father, Kankūro was comforted and aided by Matsuri, a kunoichi of Suna. Standing in open defiance to the cackled howls of Shukaku, brought to unleash a full rampage.

"Yeah! Them hearts are beatin' baby!" Shukaku roared.

Able to hear the internal organs of his prey, the hypnotic rhythm of their hearts sung. Surging forth with the hunched posture of a rabid racoon, earth turned to sand beneath his touch.

Unyielding to this approaching beast, Matsuri's clapped hands weaved through two seals. First the Boar before settling into Tiger, rock in front of her melted into a thick sludge of muck.

An A-rank technique, the density of this mud allowed it to swallow Shukaku's feet in route. Taking advantage of this brief paralysis, Kankūro's threaded fingers caused his father to soar.

Amplified by the wooden chatter of oak striking oak, the 4th Kazekage summoned dust. A puppet without thought, his body was still cherished by the first-borne son that controlled him.

Circles of pulverized amber, these yellow particles gathered like a fluffy cloud, hovering high. Propelled by the vertical wave of Kankūro's right hand, Rasa copied this ligament of movement.

Forced to plummet, the 4th Kazekage caused his dusted technique to crash upon Shukaku. Battering the horizon below salted gales of gold and howling currents, eroding eyesight.

"Did we get him?!" Matsuri accidently tugged Kankūro's hand.

Interrupting the bright blush that bloomed upon her face, Shukaku sundered surrounding spires. Natural pillars of rock that decorated the land were crushed into fine grains of sand.

"Rasa's runt? Using the body of his ol' pop?! Hahah!" A demonic bellow rang.

Draped by jostled streams from weighted particles of gold, Shukaku's singular tail swayed. Piercing the uneven terrain with jagged claws, rock bowed to the commands of this demon.

Draining chakra from the air and earth, pristine orbs of azure and crimson sprang into sight. From afar, Sasori and Baki developed saucer-like eyes upon realization of this stark might.

Unwilling to stand aside any longer, Sasori of the Red Sand rushed forth to aid his new friends. Finding purpose and value from the necessary aspects that others impressed onto him.

Too estranged to reach the allies that needed him, Sasori's immortal body wasn't quick enough. However, this concern switched to awe as Kankūro masterfully directed Rasa's Jutsu.

Lifting twin hands towards the darkened skyline, a setting moon sunk behind clouds of grey. Illuminated only by the beamed rays from this jewel of the night, Kankūro was unfazed.

Instilled by the threaded twitch and pulls of his son, the 4th Kazekage resembled a dancing man. Capable of overcoming gravity, he hovered 10ft over shifting dunes of Golden Dust.

Wave after wave, the swiped girth of his palms called further grain to his side, seemingly endless. Instantly discolored by the sphere of chakra Shukaku created, its hue was violet.

Launching this Tailed Beast Bomb without delay, hills of sand, rock and stone were demolished. Shocked by this sudden degree of power beyond imagination, Matsuri swallowed spit.

Breaking this dread, Kankūro pulled her closed, seeking safety beneath a mountain of gold. Hardened into amber cement, it was a citadel of gemmed honey, put to the ultimate test.

Brought to bare the complete weight from Shukaku's manic and insane anger, older than shinobi. In the face of this ancient beast, a crater the size of Suna was engraved in a second.

Drowning plains of grain, pillars of stone, dunes of dirt and boulders of rock, white light stretched. Only a tower of yellow stood fast in opposition, consisting of solidified and bright gold.

Erased, disgraced and misplaced, adjacent dunes of sand were baked and singed into glass. Left twitched and slurred, Baki was blinded by memories, haunted by Shukaku's rampage.

Faced against such might, Kankūro's valiant drive and determination was fiercely emboldened. With Matsuri by his side and Rasa watching over him, he was a rigid defense for Suna.


Meanwhile.

Once pristine and vivid, lively and green, Makapu Village was a charred remnant from the past. Embers of sapphire crackled atop ruined homes, crumbled streets and collapsed roofs.

This was the aftermath of Karin's onslaught, bowing to the fiery heat and chakra of Matatabi. No longer human, skin was blue fire as ethereal tails slid across this sweltering surface.

Growling with razored teeth, Matatabi's breathe was heated, retaining the appearance of steam. Positioned atop all fours like a feline, protruding whiskers were as black as coal.

Too hot to withstand, the landscape melted beneath this demonic pressure, an inferno of blue. The primordial might of Matatabi, a demon that lived over a thousand years of isolation.

In prime opposition to this heterochromatic gaze of emerald and amber, Kazan stood with pride. With the ambush of Yu, and the fall of his nation's capital, many eyes turned to Makapu.

However, this haven for refugees was reduced to rubble, predicted by Aunt Wu many moons ago. But, this jewel of beauty nestled below a volcanic crater had numerous defenders.

Meng, Olivia, Kurobachi, Suzumebachi and Kazan, joined together as one united force of shinobi. Vaporized steam and liquid honey was the sole barricade between scorched flames.

Bridging the distance from her prey, Matatabi roared with a ferocious and feline howl of darkness. Singeing stoned earth beneath paws of ember, this demonic advance was fierce.

With Kusarigama conjoined by iron chains, Kazan lowered his daughter before stalwartly shielding her. Holding crossed and curved blades in front of his chest, a bald scalp glimmered.

Weaving seals with impaired hands, clanking links of steel struck one another, audibly rustling. Empowered by the unique kekkai genkai he possessed, nearby air sizzled under heat.

A combination of Fire Style and Water Style, this nature transformation was pitted against Matatabi. Enacted to diverge the approaching ocean of blue cinders and soot, a barrier.

"Steam Style: Corrosive Swale!" Kazan boomed.

Shaped, spun and spurred into a rotating vortex of tangible heat, Kazan's allies stood in the center. Lethal only to its intended target, Kazan's mastery over steam was equal to Kokuō.

Alone, this perfected display might have fallen beneath Matatabi's rampage, swiftly looming closer. But Kazan's protective wall was coated by candy flavored honey, colored amber.

Extinguished and drowned, flames beyond measure scorched the air itself, melted below azure tint. This was the erosive result of sacred and ancient fire, the eldest of all flames.

Now, this origin of hatred was pitted against the same ninja it sought to dissolve, burn and demark. Neighboring homes baked while the moon began to settle under a late night sky.

Lunging from this stuffy collage of dust, smoke and cinders, Matatabi's howl parted the dense air. Even in combination against such evil, high level techniques and Jutsu were strained.

Swiping a sapphire paw in a vertical slash, this fiery feline divided the landscape in two. Saving his daughter for a second time, Kazan also snagged Olivia by sheathing a Kusarigama.

Positioned in such a close radius to the opposing epicenter of flames, Kazan's outline was bathed. Illuminated by crackled cinders and popping ash, his bald scalp was colored blue.

Tossing aside the girls he rescued, a swift slice from his stored Kusarigama was vibrant and bright. Iron and infused with chakra from the 3rd Jokage himself, their edges were honed.

Another history lesson exposed, Kazan's Genin team studied and worked under the 3rd Jokage. Hidan and the women he once loved all trained, studied and sought to better themselves.

These past dreams were demolished and distraught by Hidan's own betrayal, lost in his desires. Then, at the climax of old age, the 3rd Jokage passed, replaced by a weak successor.

This chain of circumstances created Kazan, and the previous outlook he gave to those he loved. Losing so much, he refused to lose another, standing fast against Matatabi's anger.

Claws of azure scraped and collided against the metallic edge of twin Kusarigama, spraying sparks. Engaged in such a fierce hand-to-paw degree, surrounding bricks splintered in two.

Plunging a singular blade through Matatabi's flamed silhouette, this sole curve melted beneath heat. Severing the linked chains that connected them, Kazan retained control of one hilt.

Inhaling a steep breathe of air, Kurobachi's cheeks bulged, swollen and engorged with liquid amber. Spewed like the concentrated jet from a propelled stream, honey shot outward.

Seeking to expunge the blue cinders that burst and emanated from the demonic foe he faced. Kurobachi's technique glimmered and gleamed, shrouding loosened tiles and stones.

Beholding this sparkled torrent of nectar, Matatabi swatted it aside, splashing colored water. Unleashing a pitched shriek as flames were sprayed wet, the tan earth below was pierced.

Carving a steep crater in place, dislodged rock was flung by a fiery paw of sapphire soot. Scrambling to evade these projectiles, the eldest sibling of Kamizuru rolled across the ground.

Lending aid to her brother, Suzumebachi developed a pulsating whip of honey, swirled fast. Enveloped and snared around the sibling she loved, Kurobachi was yanked to safety.

However, this nervous juggle of life didn't deter Matatabi's unfathomable rage, starkly howling. Far beyond the crimson-hair of her vessel, Karin consciously sat, giving up all control.


Meanwhile.

Rickety shacks of worn and tattered wood basked beneath rays from the rising sun, faintly dim. Gawking in awe, Raiga, Ranmaru and Gennō beheld combat beyond their understanding.

Barely human, Tayuya's fair skin blemished beside sprouting cracks of bloodied and razor coral. Coated and cloaked by a writhing blanket of scarlet, teeth grinded like tectonic plates.

The only ninja able to stand against this fiery fury, strands of cherry blossom hair wavered. Just 13 years old, this young age held no deterrence upon her foul-mouthed opponent.

Sakura and Tayuya, two opposing kunoichi from separate lands, villages and families faced off. One was draped beneath lines of emerald while another bathed below tangible red.

Imbued with the Strength of the Hundred Seal, its brawny might was tested against jinchūriki. The host for Isobu, a pair of crimson tails swayed behind Tayuya's frame, boiled and burst.

With each passing second, her appearance grew rabid and animalistic, baring enlarged fangs. Frizzled hair rose with the liquid heat of her chakra, white sclerae flooded by gored blood.

Pupils turned yellow as interior bones hardened, the body of an Uzumaki bore twisted weight. Seeking to end this rampage before it grew, Sakura lunged forth with a clenched fist.

Instead of flesh, these knuckles collided with a sphere of coral, abruptly spired from the earth. Possessing density between comparison, combust air suffered as a result of their clash.

Uprooting street lights, wooden planks and decayed trees, a cloud of dust radiated outward. Cramp and stuffed by surrounding pebbles, a demonic claw shot from particles of dirt.

Battered against the back of Sakura's hand, extreme might allowed her to deflect and parry. Joints popped as muscles stretched and ligaments tore, Jonin-level Taijutsu and might.

Shuddered and stricken by radiation from these exchanged hands, Chin Village was scarred. Gripping the oaken hull of a gigantic tree, Tayuya twirled this lumber like a miniature staff.

Swished and swept in a vertical slash, its girth was broke in two by Sakura's stalwart nature. Littering chopped bark across the earth, timber was mushed beneath trampled feet.

Developing deformities with each moment, Tayuya's nails pierced the makeshift weapon she held. Losing her last shred of humanity, skin turned scarlet and red, an identical tone to hair.

Forcibly hunched and crooked, limbs turned grey, embellished by armored plates and spikes. Only her torso remained crimson, draped below ripped, tattered and damaged robes.

Spreading this congealed infection to the twin tails upon her lower back, a third hastily grew. Reaching the final obstruction, flesh was ripped by protruding daggers of red coral.

Tearing further cloth from her attire, the naked view below took twisted and hollow shape. Fingers bulged while her flat chest became engorged, bloated by chakra from within.

Shedding her underaged outline, a boulder-sized shell was its replacement, adorned with barbs. Achieving a Perfect Transformation, hair upon her scalp was reduced to an outer shell.

Even her abdomen wasn't spared, changing to muscle-like tissue that fueled a collection of tails. Shrimp in appearance, Isobu's form took complete shape, possessing no hind legs.

Despite his lumbering persona, Isobu's grace and guile was imbued with heightened reflexes. Breaking rock, stone and brick under waved limbs of armor, chakra permeated the landscape.

Truly the student of Tsunade, Sakura's first reaction was to delve a clenched hand into the earth. Throwing a barrage of dislodged dirt, chunks of grassy debris poisoned the skyline.

Impaled in midair, a hundred spires of coral rose in haste, moving at the mental command of Isobu. Gone in everything but conscious, Tayuya watched from the inside, fuming hot.

Moving without legs, three tails slithered forth like a snake, sprung into unbridled action and speed. Cascading a shadow upon the petite kunoichi he faced, a hideous howl pierced the air.

Audibly breaking this shriek with the dramatic clap of palms, Sakura swiftly weaved several seals. Pressed to the street, Earth Style: Fissure ravaged a dozen homes, instantly swallowed.

Caught in the disheveled plummet of this technique, cemented bricks and stone snared Isobu's fall. However, this reprieve in advance was brief, heaved from the depths by glacial red.

Roaring as he lunged high, Isobu's stretched grip crashed against Sakura's fist, coated in chakra. A year ago, this outcome would appear foreign, but now, Sakura fought for all shinobi.


Meanwhile.

Crouched behind the damaged and charred outline of a stark Rashomōn, Dosu's breathe was rasp. A needled scalp of black hair rustled beside scorched cinders of green, radiant.

Attaining a perfected shift in bodily mass, four tails of emerald swayed, bathed by crackled ash. Fished and slimed scales turned to coarse stocks of fur, a mixture of red and viridescent.

With the silhouette of a gorilla and tails like a weasel, each embellished with spiked protrusions. This was Son Gokū's truest form, a red-furred ape with green skin, standing like a house.

Sclerae were bright amber and yellow, encircling the white pupils Gokū gazed with, squinted fast. Two horns rested atop his furrowed brow, resembling a crown of prestigious nobility.

Elongated fangs hung from his mouth, blunt and wide in girth, with darkened tips upon the end. This was the primordial might of an ancient demon, existing over a thousand years.

"Oh? You willing give me control?" Gokū moved on his own accord.

Since the inception of shinobi, they sought to corral, dictate and direct the Tailed Beasts they held. Now, during the end of the age, he found those that genuinely thought of his freedom.

The heir he always dreamed of, a descendant from the man he once followed, Naruto gave him hope. Reminded and inspired by memories from the elder days, the Sage of Six Paths.

"I'm in your debt, and a king cannot allow this." His mouth flung open.

Like all Tailed Beasts, Gokū himself was a physical manifestation of chakra, an aged spiritual essence. Utilizing this knowledge, orbs of blue and red were drained from the stuffed air.

Funneled and focused towards Gokū's fanged jaw, colored spheres merged and boiled into one shape. Overwhelmed by a hue of violet, its size tripled, causing nearby earth to splinter.

Engraved by the sheer weight of this technique, Gokū sank into an artificial crater, circularly cut in dirt. Using stray stones and curved rock to hold himself upright, demonic eyes dazzled.

Propelling the chakra in front of him, its power was warped into a beam, ravaging all before it in chaos. Resembling an unfathomable propulsion of tangible purple, its heat clamored.

Unable to halt such a display, Dosu ran for his life, flipping over broken lumber and snapped branches. Scraping his metallic gauntlet against sparse chunks of oak, sound rippled out.

Seeking to disperse the sweltered approach of heated flames, visible sound collided against ember. Launched out, dissolved soot, ash and smoke poised the treacherous horizon.

Whisked into safety above the tree-line, a hundred butterflies swarmed Dosu, lifting him over trees. Nestled atop the decayed and withered husk of dead branches, faint light gleamed.

Rising after a night of slumber, the sun perpetually hovered along the distant skyline, burning bright. Illuminating all that sat beneath it, Dosu, Sasame and Kagerō grouped together.

Merely a stones throw from Bamboo Village, this delegation of Oto was their sole source of safety. Swinging through the branches below, Gokū's massed burden singed all he touched.

True to his gorilla nature, he twirled and leapt over a dozen obstacles, beating his muscular chest. Flicking orange-coated fingertips, adjacent lumber was gripped by Sasame's thread.

Directing this special trait of her clan, she yanked a blockade of bark in front of Son Gokū. Slapped aside without any delay, parched oak caught aflame, enveloped by green flames.

The daughter of a Sage, Kagerō held a resilience to these flames where others would burn. Skin was as pale as snow while eyes of sapphire appeared tired, heavily closed and sleepy.

Distinguished guardians for their Dokage, Sasame and Kagerō wore twin outfits of violet. A sleeveless blouse that ran to their thighs, the shorts beneath were too small to notice.

Held in place by the shaded cloth and fabric of their Oto headband, pouches and satchels strapped. Combining their skill, a wave of azure butterflies surged beside threaded branches.

Parted by a ferocious roar, Son Gokū's approach was unfettered, breaking everything before him. Flinging a hardened fist of muscle, knuckles collided against Dosu's iron gauntlet.

Spreading visual waves of sounds, the surrounding environment crumbled beneath devastation. Trees snapped, bark shredded and roots tore as Gokū's howl rang out like a bell.

Stricken and struck by the force of this propulsion, Dosu hastily tossed his fabled guards aside. Risking life, limb and love for the same village that once mocked him, so very long ago.

Unfettered by his crooked posture, crippled legs or scarred eye, these lingering injuries were ignored. A brown scalp shone below rays from the rising sun, blind and glimmering.

Bisecting Gokū's audible wind, Dosu grinded nails across his gauntlet, scraping plated iron aloud. Time and time again, the 4th Dokage pitted everything on the line, panting hard.


Meanwhile.

In the past, he gave Haku his purpose, a reason to live and laugh, despite the world he lived in. Now, Zabuza was forced to fight this beloved student, swiftly swinging Kubikiribōchō.

Crimson ice was chipped away by the steady weight from these blows, releasing dislodged shards. Ravaged by an unending forest of frost, the village of Kai was skewered and spired.

Gawking at the extreme degree of this shinobi combat, Kahyō glared with saucer-like eyes of black. The battle in front was beyond her abilities, only capable of watching from a distance.

If this sight was predicted six months ago, many would call it a lie, an illusion meant to deceive. However, reality had a habit of deception, leading to outcomes previously unimaginable.

Exchanging blows of might, Haku and Zabuza fought, a contrast of the time they spent together. Miniature sparks of scarlet sprayed, ricocheting off conflicted edges of substance.

Razor sharped teeth were honed into a Zabuza's grimace, cursing the misfortune of his village. This grumbled desperation was self-inflicted, fully aware that this outcome was necessary.

Further closing in on a Perfect Transformation, Haku dropped onto all fours, narrowly human. Attaining four out of five tails, his scalp was as white as snow, with blueish-green pupils.

Indicative of a Sage, red-lined markings rested below each eye, the same tone as Kokuō's chakra. But this color abruptly turned white, triggered by a fifth tail sprouting like a seed.

Morphing into flesh, fur was coarse yet soft, identical to an endless field of slick frost and fluff. Boiled into the body of a horse, the head of a dolphin emerged, molded from chakra.

Like Son Gokū, a crown of natural horns adorned Kokuō's brow, four that evenly protruded. Similar to his tails, the tips were darkened tan, adopted by hooves that replaced all feet.

Reaching the point of perfection, Haku was gone, gifting all control and direction to Kokuō. Standing at the height of a small house, this five-tailed demon neighed, breaking all he touched.

Unwilling to gift his opponent with delay, Zabuza's sandaled feet charged across bricked streets. Wielding the massed bulk of Kubikiribōchō with one hand, it's curved edge was sliced.

Met by the horned crown of Kokuō, this Tailed Beast stopped the lethal Namikage in his tracks. Suffering the weight from this cataclysmic collision, adjacent homes were demolished.

Evading a well-placed jab from one of Kokuō's tails, Zabuza backtracked over fallen street lights. Supported by a glacial veil of frost, Paku summoned blue ice with clasped hands.

To most, the dreaded Five Tails was a foe beyond their capabilities, a demon with vast reserves. Causing them to flee for their lives, or die, but Zabuza and Paku were different.

Their range of experience, years of skill and distinguished abilities granted them with survival. Kubikiribōchō shielded against a torrent of crimson, quickly plunged into the earth.

Battered below a sharpened hail of scarlet, Paku's sole defense was Zabuza's lumbering outline. A makeshift defense, their perimeter was threatened by Kokuō, surging with hooves.

Nothing like the rabid rogue from his past, Zabuza sought to protect and guard the Land of Waves. Too cradle the very nation he once threatened to destroy, during a different age.

Swaying five tails within a dense cloud of red steam, Kokuō's aura eroded nearby sections of stone. Faced with an icy wall of azure, the pride of Yuki gleamed like pristine jewels.

Hooves, horns and tails uprooted chunks of cement and oak, loosened and wrought by thick steam. The weight of a nation, the burden of a student, and the loss of a friend, Zabuza endured.

Never one to back down, give up or abandon the mission, his goal was as finalized as adamant. Inspired by whispered teachings and secrets from Naruto, this was the only option.


Meanwhile.

Growing past her fear, beyond trepidation and the cloak of regret, Hinata attained her own status. A disinherited Princess and Genin in title, the skills she employed reached Jonin-rank.

Embroiled in a hand-to-hand confrontation with the partially transformed silhouette of Saiken. Soaped bubbles floated from the slimed surface of slick skin, shrouded by four tails.

Battling aside the ruined remnants of Kusa, Hinata dove between piled rock and splintered planks. Taking another step from humanity, the last shred of Jūgo's face was coated in slime.

Spreading to his stray arm and leg, this muscular bulwark morphed into a gelatinous mound of pus. Sprouting two more tails in the span of an instant, oozed and dripped in white.

A credit to Jūgo's size, Saiken's puddled and sunken limbs stood at the same height, almost 7ft tall. Becoming a Perfect Possession, this jinchūriki relented all reflexes, a willing host.

Ripping the wet maw that construed his face, Saiken's petrified howl rung like a chittered chorus. Launching uneven droplets and revolting wads of jellified liquid, swollen with chakra.

Halted in her tracks, Hinata's daring determination was matched against the rabid pitch of a demon. Beholding this onslaught, Ino's blond scalp wavered in the artificial breeze.

Seeking to add their own skill this outcome, Sazanami and Ryūzetsu rushed over pulverized debris. However, this bridged advance was blindsided by stark shadows from above.

Erecting a fiery blockade in moments, Hinata was separated from the approaching hulk of Saiken. Veiled behind crackling cinders, Muku's display of Fire Style was that of a prodigy.

The 5th Kukage, a shinobi born and raised inside the Land of Grass, a nation surrounded by war. Conflict shaped him, once baring witness to the death of his father, a worthy end for ninja.

Standing in the smoldered, charred and derelict streets of Kusa, Muku obviously failed at his task. To protect the village his father gave him, already scarred from Tobi's recent invasion.

This safeguard was put to test when Muku traveled to the Land of Iron, leaving his home defenseless. Cursing himself for this lapse of judgment, he would do anything to rewrite it.

Now, faced with the same foe responsible for the destruction of his village, he stood at the forefront. Cascaded by the flailing and stretched fabric from white and dark green robes.

Wearing this outfit with pride, the kanji for 'five' was emblazoned across his back, pristinely sewn. The saucer-shaped hat for all Kage hung from his neck, leisurely strapped into place.

Reaching the rank of Kage at the age of 26, Muku's snow-white skin glowed beneath the rising sun. Lavished beside brown eyes, jet-black hair hung past rigid and stern shoulders.

"So... This is the demon that destroyed our home?" Muku rhetorically spoke.

Weaving seals with speed beyond the comprehension of Jonin, the 5th Kukage swelled with tangible aura. A hue of emerald, feet dug and sundered the earth, weighted by such chakra.

Waving bipedal arms, Saiken unleashed a torrential beam of soap and bubbles, propelled with haste. Lined, filled and bloated with sightless light, their girth was the size of coconuts.

Illuminated by this storm, Muku's hat was blown from his side, lost in currents of ferocious wind. With Hinata at his back, while Sazanami and Ryūzetsu rushed, the 5th Kukage was firm.