Hinata of the White Lotus
Hinata vs Amaterasu
Chakra erupted off Hinata in an overwhelming surge. The simultaneous opening of two gates, combined with the outpouring of natural energy, created a storm of power so intense that the very air around her warped and twisted, the pressure almost tangible. The black sun above them flickered ominously, its edges trembling under the sheer force of her aura.
Amaterasu stood still, unfazed by the spectacle. Her crimson Byakugan-like eyes, the Gurengan, glimmered with detached interest, as if she were observing a child's tantrum rather than a defiant warrior. In contrast, Obito staggered backward, the explosive wind from Hinata's energy nearly knocking him off his feet. He stumbled down two steps of the fiery staircase, nearly falling off completely.
He cursed under his breath, his usual composure fraying. This wasn't supposed to happen. Obito had underestimated her, assuming she was a reflection of his own despair and hopelessness—a person who, once confronted with failure, would crumble. He had thought her strength was fleeting, her will easily broken now that Amaterasu had crossed into their world. Yet here she stood, unwavering, her defiance radiant as the energy rolling off her twisted the space around them.
He made a mistake, frustration bubbling within him. He had allowed her too close, thinking she was defeated. Now, her unexpected resolve threatened the very foundation of his plan. He could feel Amaterasu's gaze on him, a heavy and unforgiving presence that sent a chill through his core. He couldn't afford to fail her.
"Allow me to take care of her," Obito said, his voice sharp with urgency as he fought against the gale-like winds tearing at him. He climbed one of the steps, each movement deliberate and forced as he pressed forward. His Mangekyō Sharingan pulsed faintly, readying Kamui, but even he knew the time for evasion was gone. Hinata's sheer presence was a threat, and it was his mistake that had allowed her this chance.
Amaterasu tilted her head, amusement glinting in her fiery eyes. Her expression was a blend of indulgence and mockery, her wicked smile cutting through the tension like a blade. "No, that is quite unnecessary." Her voice was smooth and commanding, carrying a tone of absolute authority. "Kaguya's offspring—no… Hinata of the White Lotus, was it? Allow me to instruct you myself."
Amaterasu extended her hand, her fingers curling slightly as if cradling something fragile. A moment later, a burst of crimson Jyūken energy erupted from her palm, streaking toward Obito faster than he could react.
It hit him before Kamui could activate. Not that it would have mattered—this wasn't an attack meant to be dodged. The energy wasn't a Hyūga's Jyūken designed to shut down chakra points or damage internal organs. It was something far more profound, a fragment of Amaterasu's divine essence.
Obito gasped as the crimson energy poured into him. His chakra surged to impossible heights, tripling in an instant. His body felt stronger, more resilient, as if a lifetime of limitations had been stripped away in a single heartbeat. The sensation was intoxicating. He staggered briefly, overwhelmed, before steadying himself. His stolen left eye began to glow with a new intensity, its Sharingan spinning violently before morphing into a Mangekyō Sharingan. The power that had once belonged to Itachi now burned within him, a gift from the goddess.
A slow, sinister smirk spread across Obito's face. "At your command," he said smoothly, bowing his head in deference. The respect in his voice was real now, born not from fear but awe. This was no mere allegiance—this was worship.
The air crackled with tension as Obito stood atop the flaming steps, his confidence swelling with the surge of newfound power coursing through his veins. Below, the black sun's ominous light bathed the village in a sickly glow, its presence a harbinger of destruction. Amaterasu's gift had made him feel invincible, a god among mortals, and the sight of the scattered shinobi below only fed his growing arrogance.
Most of the village's forces were absent, dispatched on missions to recover from the strain of the Chūnin Exams and Orochimaru's failed invasion. A significant contingent had also been sent to Sunagakure to strengthen the alliance with the Sand, leaving Konoha thinly defended. To make matters worse, Sarutobi Hiruzen and a considerable force were locked in a grueling battle against Root underground, oblivious to the chaos above.
Yet even the reduced forces below were not to be underestimated. Obito's eyes flickered over the gathered shinobi, their chakra signatures flaring with determination. Without Amaterasu's blessing, he might have hesitated. Now, he felt untouchable.
"I'll show them the power of a god," Obito muttered, extending his hands toward the skyline. His voice was calm but brimming with anticipation. Let them see how meaningless resistance is.
"Mokuton: Hydra no Jutsu!"
A low rumble began to reverberate through the air, growing steadily louder until it shook the very ground beneath Konoha. Cracks snaked their way through the streets, creeping like veins over the broken terrain. Civilians screamed, and shinobi braced themselves, their instincts screaming that something terrible was coming.
With an earth-shattering roar, the ground beneath one of Konoha's districts exploded upward. Chunks of rock and debris rained down as a massive three-headed wooden dragon erupted from the depths, its immense form splintering through the ruins of nearby buildings. The sheer force of its creation obliterated everything in its immediate radius—entire blocks reduced to rubble in an instant. Each of its heads twisted and writhed like living creatures, the jagged bark of their forms scraping together with an ear-piercing screech.
The hydra's three heads opened their massive jaws, roaring in unison, their sound cutting through the chaos and silencing the village with its terrible presence. The hydra exuded raw, overwhelming power, its massive bodies casting ominous shadows across the ruined streets.
Obito stood atop the fiery steps, watching the destruction unfold with grim satisfaction. The black flames of Amaterasu flickered within his newly awakened Mangekyō Sharingan, glowing ominously as he extended a single hand toward the hydra. "Fire," he commanded, his voice calm but carrying an edge of malice.
The hydra's heads obeyed.
Each of the three heads reared back, their throats glowing faintly with an unnatural black light. A heartbeat later, they unleashed torrents of Amaterasu's eternal flames, the black fire cascading down in streams of destruction. The cursed flames surged forward, devouring everything in their path. Streets were consumed, and the buildings that had narrowly survived the hydra's emergence were obliterated. Nothing could stand against the flames; their malevolent heat warped the air, melting stone and turning metal to slag.
Shinobi who had been too close to the attack screamed as the flames consumed them, their chakra barriers crumbling under the relentless assault. Others barely managed to retreat, their faces etched with horror as they watched comrades vanish into the inferno.
The destruction spread like a wildfire, black flames licking at the edges of the village and leaving nothing but ash in their wake. The heat was suffocating, making it difficult to breathe, let alone fight. For those who watched from a distance, it was like staring into the maw of a monster—unstoppable, remorseless, and insatiable.
From his vantage point, Obito watched the chaos with an eerie calm. The glow of the black flames reflected in his Mangekyō Sharingan, a flicker of triumph playing across his scarred face. The power of Amaterasu coursed through him, a reminder of his ascendancy. This wasn't just destruction; it was validation. Proof that his path was the right one.
As the hydra's flames continued their rampage, Obito tilted his head back, his lips curling into a smirk. Then he laughed—a loud, echoing sound that carried above the crackling inferno. It wasn't joy or amusement. It was exhilaration. A wild, childlike triumph born from the sheer magnitude of his own power.
The flames roared in response, their unholy glow casting long shadows over what remained of Konoha. The laughter echoed through the burning streets, a haunting sound that seemed to declare the beginning of the end.
Obito's laughter faltered as a surge of chakra erupted from the black flames below, cutting through the oppressive heat like a blade. His eyes narrowed, his smirk vanishing. Impossible… someone survived?
From within the inferno, a green light began to glow, faint at first but intensifying with every passing second. The black flames, unyielding and eternal, began to recede as if forced back by an unseen force. The air grew dense with energy, heavy and sharp like the calm before a storm. Then, from the heart of the flames, a towering emerald figure emerged.
The spectral construct was unlike anything Obito had seen before. It strode forward, nearly matching the hydra in size, its luminous form radiating raw, unrestrained power. The construct's figure was defined and deliberate, resembling a man clad in intricate Uchiha battle armor, its design unmistakably akin to the armor worn by Madara Uchiha himself. The emerald avatar's flowing cloak rippled with chakra, and its fierce visage bore an uncanny resemblance to a man long thought lost.
At the center of this manifestation stood Uchiha Itachi. But his eyes—his eyes were different. Both sockets now housed Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan, their designs a perfect blend of his own and Shisui's. The interlocking tomoe and spirals formed an intricate, mesmerizing seven-pronged shuriken pattern, a fusion of two unyielding wills.
"Itachi…" Obito spat, his voice low and venomous, the word dripping with disbelief.
Itachi's gaze was cold, piercing. He made no effort to explain himself to Obito—there was no need. His very presence answered the unspoken questions.
The truth, however, was more complicated. Itachi had long since lost the ability to summon Susanoo. When he defied death through the forbidden power of Izanagi, the god of storms had abandoned him, a rebellious entity rejecting its servitude under his parents' creation. But in its place, something new had awakened—a power born not of vengeance, but of loyalty.
Shisui's will, forged through a bond of unwavering friendship, had taken root within Itachi. That bond, unbroken even in death, had transcended time to manifest as a new power. This emerald construct was not Susanoo, but a spectral avatar that bore the essence of Uchiha Shisui himself.
Itachi raised his hand, the emerald figure mimicking the movement with precision. The avatar's features became clearer under the glow of its chakra: the sharp angles of Shisui's face, the proud Uchiha fan etched onto the chestplate of his armor. Even his blade, sheathed across the avatar's back, radiated an energy that demanded respect.
"Now," Itachi began, his voice carrying the weight of both his own resolve and Shisui's legacy, "allow me to revive his name: Shisui the Flash."
Before Obito could react, the spectral avatar vanished. No—it moved. Its speed was so staggering that it seemed to disappear altogether, a blur of green light streaking across the battlefield. The hydra, massive and unrelenting, didn't even have time to roar before one of its three heads was struck with a devastating kick. The blow tore the head from its neck, the wooden fragments scattering like splinters.
The remaining two heads turned, roaring in fury, but the avatar was already on them. Itachi's control over the construct was seamless, the spectral figure a perfect extension of his will. With another blinding strike, the second head was obliterated, and the third was launched into the forest beyond the village. Trees shattered like toothpicks under the force, the flames sputtering out as the hydra's body crashed into the ground, far from any remaining civilians.
Obito's teeth clenched in frustration, his fists trembling at his sides. Just when everything had seemed to fall into place, Itachi once again became the thorn in his side. No matter how many plans were set into motion, Itachi always found a way to derail them.
"Damn you, Itachi…" Obito growled, his voice filled with venomous rage. But he wasn't done. He now had Amaterasu's power coursing through him. He was more than a match for Itachi—or so he told himself.
He was about to leap into the fray when two more chakra signatures surged toward him, their combined force enough to make even Obito hesitate. He activated Kamui on instinct, phasing out just as two blurs streaked past him, their attacks narrowly missing their mark.
Might Gai landed first, the tiled roof beneath his feet cracking under the force of his arrival. His flushed red skin and the faint green steam rolling off his body were unmistakable signs that the sixth gate of the Eight Gates Formation was open. The sheer intensity of his presence made the air vibrate, and his usual jovial demeanor was nowhere to be found. His voice, steady but grim, carried the weight of a man who had seen too much destruction. "You've gone too far, Obito. I don't know why you're doing this, but I can't stand by and watch you tear down everything we've worked to protect."
Hatake Kakashi landed next to Gai a moment later, his posture steady and unyielding. His single Sharingan glowed brightly through the haze, a beacon of calculated precision that underscored his reputation as the Copy Ninja. Every movement was deliberate, each one measured as if the battlefield itself demanded his respect. Despite the chaos around him, Kakashi's gaze was fixed firmly on Obito, his presence calm yet charged with unspoken determination.
Unlike Gai's raw intensity, Kakashi's presence was quiet and reserved. He looked at Obito with an expression that was neither anger nor pity—only resolve. "Obito," he said, his voice low and steady, "I don't know what's happened to you, but I know this isn't the friend I once had. You're not the boy who wanted to become Hokage. What happened to him?"
Obito's new Mangekyō Sharingan glowed ominously as he gestured to it, his smirk returning with renewed arrogance. "You think you know me, Kakashi? You think that you can still reach that boy you left behind?" He took a step forward, the flames of Amaterasu swirling faintly around his form, casting long shadows. "This isn't the same as before. I've transcended the weak ideals that once bound me. Look at this power," he said, pointing to his new eye. "This is something neither of you could ever hope to comprehend."
Despite his words, facing Gai and Kakashi brought an unexpected stillness to Obito's mind. Where Itachi had riled him up, his calm, unreadable demeanor feeding into Obito's deep-seated frustrations, Gai and Kakashi felt different. They were a tangible link to the past—a past he'd long since cast aside, but one he couldn't entirely forget. Standing before them, Obito realized how far he had come. How far he had left them behind.
Below them, the remaining shinobi scrambled to contain the eternal flames. The battlefield had narrowed, the focus of the conflict shifting entirely to the trio standing atop the ruined village. The battlefield had narrowed. It was no longer a clash of armies—it was a battle of titans.
The pinnacle of which Obito had only just reached.
As Obito reveled in his newfound power, the chaos of Konoha burning beneath him, a surge of chakra far different from his own sliced through the battlefield. Its presence was sharp, deliberate, and unwavering—an anchor of determination amidst the carnage. From his vantage point, Obito glanced toward the fiery steps where Hinata stood, her form glowing with an energy that seemed to challenge even the blazing light of Amaterasu herself.
At the same time, the goddess lingered above, her presence regal and unshaken, a chilling smile playing on her lips. Her crimson eyes locked onto the girl who dared to stand against her, radiating an air of detached amusement. The battle between gods and mortals had begun, two clashes of monumental scale unfolding in tandem.
The fiery expanse of the battlefield seemed to warp around them as Hinata's chakra surged, her Nichiren Byakugan glowing with an ethereal light. The spectral aura of Kali hung faintly behind her, its presence weaving natural energy into Hinata's own, creating a volatile mix of human and divine power. Her breath was steady, her movements deliberate. She knew she was outmatched in every conceivable way—but she also knew her purpose. If she could just exploit the goddess's overconfidence for a fraction of a second, she could make her move.
Amaterasu stood motionless, arms spread wide as though inviting an attack. The Gurengan in her eyes burned with an unnatural intensity, locking onto Hinata's every movement. Her expression remained calm, bordering on disinterested. "What's the matter, child? Were you not going to stop me?" Her voice was melodic but carried an edge of mockery, as though speaking to someone so far beneath her that she couldn't be bothered to feign concern.
Hinata offered no reply. Words were meaningless now. She slid into the traditional Hyūga stance, her palm extended before her, the other drawn close to her hip. Her feet shifted subtly, finding balance as she prepared to strike. Every fiber of her being focused on the goddess before her, her senses honed to a razor's edge. Natural energy swirled around her, intertwining with the explosive power of the Eight Gates. The pressure from her chakra distorted the air, creating ripples that spread out like the surface of a disturbed pond.
She didn't need to defeat Amaterasu—that was impossible. Her goal was singular, precise: knock the goddess back into the portal. The black sun loomed behind Amaterasu, its shrinking edges flickering as it neared its final moments. If Hinata could force her through and seal the portal by targeting its natural tenketsu points, the battle would end. That was her only chance. Her only win condition.
Amaterasu tilted her head slightly, the barest flicker of amusement crossing her features. "A stance… how quaint." She didn't move. She didn't need to. The gap between them was immeasurable, and she knew it. The very air around her shimmered with heat, the weight of her presence pressing down on Hinata like an oppressive sun.
Hinata moved.
The fiery step beneath her shattered instantly, unable to withstand the explosive force of her launch. The sound barrier trembled, a sonic boom cracking the air as she hurtled forward like a bullet. Her Nichiren Byakugan locked onto Amaterasu's form, her palm extended not in a typical Jūken strike but as part of a full-bodied tackle. She wasn't aiming for precision—she was aiming to use her entire mass to knock the goddess back into the portal. Just one touch. That was all she needed.
In a fraction of a second, Hinata launched herself forward, the air around her warping as her chakra surged. She wasn't relying on calculated precision—there was no time for that. Instead, she followed the guiding thread of natural energy that her Nichiren Byakugan revealed to her, a glowing path that led directly to Amaterasu's core. The goddess stood before her, a beacon of overwhelming power. To Hinata's vision, Amaterasu wasn't merely a figure—she was a blazing sun, her chakra so dense it distorted the world around her. Gravity itself seemed to bend in her presence, pressing down on Hinata with an invisible weight that threatened to crush her.
But Hinata didn't falter. Her entire being was focused on this singular strike. It wasn't just her strength she was pouring into this moment, but her resolve—every ounce of determination she had summoned to protect her village, her comrades, and the world itself. Her open palm surged forward, ready to land the blow that would tip the scales.
And then it didn't.
For a heartbeat, Hinata was certain she had succeeded. The guiding thread had brought her directly to Amaterasu. Her strike had been true, her speed unparalleled. But as her palm reached its target, the image of Amaterasu wavered, and Hinata's body passed straight through. Her momentum carried her forward uncontrollably, the force of her strike propelling her beyond the goddess. She skidded to a halt several steps away, her sandals grinding against one of the flaming steps that Amaterasu had conjured earlier. Confusion clouded her face as she spun back around, searching for an explanation.
Amaterasu had moved.
The goddess now floated effortlessly in the air several meters above, her crimson kimono shifting unnaturally as if it were caught in an unseen breeze. Her presence dominated the heavens, the black sun behind her casting sharp, jagged shadows that stretched across the vast emptiness beneath them. The Gurengan in her eyes gleamed with a chilling, otherworldly radiance, the twin orbs shining like twin crimson stars. She didn't appear flustered or even amused—her expression was calm, serene, but with a subtle curve of her lips that spoke of unshakable confidence.
"Did you think you could reach me, child?" Amaterasu's voice was soft, yet it reverberated as if the entire world were listening. It wasn't just her words; it was the weight of her divinity, the authority of a being who had once ruled over the heavens themselves. "You cannot touch the sun, no matter how brightly you think you burn."
Hinata's chest heaved as she struggled to understand what had just happened. This wasn't teleportation or phasing—it was something beyond even those techniques. Her Nichiren Byakugan replayed the sequence in her mind's eye, revealing the impossible: Amaterasu hadn't dodged, nor had she allowed herself to be struck. She had simply moved—so quickly, so smoothly, that the very laws of nature seemed to bend around her. What Hinata had struck was nothing but an afterimage, a shadow left behind in the wake of Amaterasu's divine speed.
The goddess tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing in faint amusement. "Come, little lotus. Show me what else you have. If you hope to stand against me, you'll need far more than that." The words lingered in the air like a taunt, the overwhelming gap between the two painfully clear.
Hinata gritted her teeth. Her mind raced, reevaluating her strategy. Amaterasu wasn't underestimating her—no, that would have been a blessing. The goddess had evaluated her fairly and deemed her an ant standing before a mountain. The truth was undeniable: the gap in power between them was insurmountable. But Hinata wasn't fighting to win. She was fighting for one moment, one opening. That was all she needed.
Drawing a deep breath, Hinata's chakra surged once more, the energy around her sharpening like a blade. "Third Gate: Gate of Life—Open!" Hinata's voice rang out, a declaration of defiance against the impossible. The burst of power that surged through her body was intoxicating and overwhelming all at once. Her muscles screamed in agony, every fiber of her being burning under the strain. Her tenketsu flared to life, flooding her with chakra and natural energy in quantities that would have torn apart an ordinary person. The sheer force of opening the third gate shattered the air around her, creating shockwaves that rippled across the sky, rattling the flaming steps beneath her feet.
She crouched low, launching herself into the air with enough force to leave the step below her in fragments. Pain lanced through her legs as the raw energy of three gates tore at her muscles and ligaments, the exertion threatening to rip her apart from within. Yet she pushed through the agony, her face tight with concentration. Every movement felt like a knife twisting in her joints, but she knew she couldn't hesitate. Not now.
The world seemed to slow as her body adapted to the new threshold of power. She couldn't fly like Amaterasu, but she didn't need to. The combined force of the opened gates and Kali's natural energy allowed her to propel herself through the air. She climbed higher, gaining elevation against the goddess, her trajectory clean and precise. She readied herself to change direction mid-flight, her muscles tensing despite the unbearable pain.
Amaterasu watched her with an expression of serene detachment, as though the entire spectacle was nothing more than a fleeting amusement. Her voice was calm, taunting, the weight of her authority carried effortlessly in her words. "Is this your best, child?"
Hinata ignored the taunt, her focus narrowing on the task at hand. She adjusted her stance in mid-air, her burning limbs protesting every movement. She could feel the overwhelming density of Amaterasu's presence like a lead weight pressing on her body, but she grit her teeth and pushed forward. Her body burned with agony, but her mind latched onto the guiding line of chakra that led to her target.
She visualized the path as clearly as her Nichiren Byakugan allowed. The black sun was shrinking by the second. She had no choice but to strike true—this was her chance.
Hinata's Nichiren Byakugan flared, and before her, the familiar shape of the Eight Trigrams blossomed in the air. Each point glowed faintly, a guiding map of natural energy and chakra that aligned with the intricate pathways of Amaterasu's dense, celestial chakra network. This was the foundation of her dance, the series of blows designed to purify and dismantle even the most formidable energy flows.
The first dance of the White Lotus consisted of eight strikes, each targeted to disrupt a tenketsu deep within the opponent's chakra system. By performing the dance eight times in rapid succession, Hinata would unleash sixty-four consecutive blows—a ritualized storm of power designed to overwhelm even the mightiest opponent. If she could strike even a few of those points, the balance of power would tip in her favor.
But against Amaterasu, even beginning this dance felt impossible.
"Byakuren: Some no Mai—Yaezaki!" Hinata cried, her voice carrying equal parts desperation and determination as she launched forward by kicking off the air. Her chakra-infused palm thrust forward with the force of a cannon, aimed directly at one of the natural energy tenketsu buried deep within Amaterasu's impossibly dense chakra.
The instant she closed the distance, Hinata knew something was wrong. The very air around Amaterasu twisted unnaturally, the gravitational force of her presence crushing down on Hinata's outstretched hand. Her palm veered off course, the guiding light of the Eight Trigrams flickering and warping under the strain. Her Byakugan strained too, her vision swimming as if the laws of nature themselves bent to protect Amaterasu.
Pain exploded in her wrist as her bones twisted unnaturally, her hand thrown violently off its trajectory. Her strike missed by a hair's breadth, the distorted trigrams a cruel mockery of what should have been precision. Hinata's momentum carried her past Amaterasu, her body tumbling wildly in mid-air. Biting back a scream, she twisted sharply, planting a kick against the air itself to stop her motion and redirect herself back toward the goddess.
She struck again. The same result.
The crushing density of Amaterasu's chakra greeted her once more. Her palm shattered against the invisible force, the skin tearing as her bones bent beneath the pressure. Blood sprayed from her hand, painting the air in crimson arcs as her muscles screamed in protest. Her second blow was just as ineffective as the first.
By the fourth strike, her palms were ruined. The skin was shredded down to raw flesh, the tendons strained to their breaking point. Every movement felt like dragging her hands through broken glass, the pain a constant, searing reminder of her failure. Blood dripped down her arms and mixed with the sweat that poured from her body.
"Don't stop," she told herself, forcing her battered body forward again. Her voice was hoarse, cracking under the weight of her resolve. "I can't stop now."
By the eighth strike—the conclusion of the first dance—her arms trembled uncontrollably. Her vision blurred, the warped Eight Trigrams glowing faintly in her failing Byakugan. She could feel the pain radiating through her body, the strain of the gates threatening to rip her muscles apart.. The Eight Trigrams had been distorted so thoroughly that her final blow missed even more wildly than the first. Her bloodied hand passed through empty air, the gravitational distortion around Amaterasu mocking her efforts. Her strength gave out entirely as she fell past the goddess, her broken body unable to maintain the momentum needed to strike again.
Her descent ended with a crash atop a water tower, the impact denting the cone-shaped roof beneath her. The world swayed around her as she knelt, her arms hanging limply at her sides. Her hands were unrecognizable—nothing but blood, torn skin, and exposed bone. The pain hit her like a wave, sharp and searing, and this time, she couldn't hold back a strangled cry. There was no way she could endure the dance another seven times.
Amaterasu floated above her, descending only slightly to ensure her presence loomed over Hinata like an unshakable shadow. The black sun behind her had shrunk significantly, its light flickering weakly as it neared its end. Time was running out, and Amaterasu knew it.
"Is that all?" the goddess asked, her tone mockingly gentle. "You can't even touch me. How do you expect to stop me?"
Hinata didn't answer. She couldn't. Her throat felt raw, her chest heaving as she fought to gather even the smallest amount of breath. Her body trembled under the weight of her failure, but somewhere deep within, a spark of defiance refused to go out. She clenched what remained of her hands, ignoring the fresh wave of pain that surged through her.
"Do you understand the gulf between us yet?" Amaterasu's voice reverberated through the night, rich and haunting. It carried a chilling blend of authority and pleasure, as though every word reaffirmed her place atop an unassailable throne. There was no impatience in her tone, no irritation at Hinata's continued defiance—only satisfaction. She savored every second, basking in the validation of her superiority.
For Amaterasu, this was no mere skirmish. This was vengeance long delayed. Though Hinata was not Kaguya, nor even her true descendant, those pale, all-seeing eyes mirrored the ones that had once dared to challenge her Gurengan. The Rabbit Goddess had once been her closest friend, a companion from an era before the boundaries of the world were set. Amaterasu and Kaguya had always compared their gifts, their divine eyes—Amaterasu's Gurengan and Kaguya's Byakugan—in a rivalry that had spanned eons. The debates had been playful at first, steeped in mutual admiration, but as the ages wore on, they turned into something far more contentious. Each believed her own power was the ultimate expression of divinity.
Now, after millennia of waiting, Amaterasu finally had her answer. Her Gurengan, the divine gift of the sun, stood unmatched. And the proof lay before her: Hyūga Hinata, Kaguya's distant descendant, broken and defeated.
Amaterasu's smile widened, her crimson eyes gleaming like burning coals. "How fitting," she mused, her tone almost playful. "Kaguya's successor… no, her shadow… here to validate the sun's rightful brilliance."
"…I'm not done yet." Hinata's voice cracked as she forced herself to stand. Her body trembled, her bloodied hands hanging limply at her sides, but the defiance in her gaze didn't waver. With a pained grunt, she lifted one mangled hand and snapped her index finger back into place with an audible crack. Her other hand followed, trembling but resolute as it pressed against the tenketsu point on her chest. "Fourth Gate: Gate of Pain—Open!"
A surge of chakra erupted from her battered frame, the sheer force of the release rippling through the air like a shockwave. Her white chakra cloak intensified, wrapping around her like a living flame. The pain was immediate, ripping through her body like jagged bolts of lightning, but she pushed it aside. She had no choice. If the first dance hadn't worked, she would have to step beyond the limits of her control, no matter the cost.
"Wonderful!" Amaterasu exclaimed, her voice rising in gleeful anticipation. Her arms stretched wide, her presence commanding as though she were conducting the very forces of the cosmos. The black sun behind her flickered, its glow shifting to match her radiance. "Yes! Call forth every ounce of power you can muster! Show me the fruits of Kaguya's garden world! Prove to me that her vision was worth something, that her legacy can be anything but pathetic!"
Her words were a taunt and a challenge, each syllable laced with condescension. The night sky itself seemed to respond, growing brighter as though the goddess's elation bled into the stars above.
Hinata's breath came in shallow bursts, her body screaming in protest as the Fourth Gate poured raw energy into her already strained frame. Her chakra cloak, once formless and wild, began to shift and coalesce. Slowly, it took the shape of a lion—a massive, imposing figure, its mane swirling like storm clouds, each strand of chakra alive with vibrant white light. Its paws were broad and clawed, outlined with sharp edges of concentrated energy that shimmered like molten steel. The lion's eyes burned with the same resolute fire as Hinata's, two white-hot orbs that glared at Amaterasu with primal intensity.
This was no ordinary technique. The lion was a chakra construct born from Hinata's willpower, infused with the immense natural energy gathered by Kali. The air around it crackled with raw power, creating ripples in the atmosphere that distorted even the faint light of the black sun behind them. Each movement of the spectral beast was synchronized with Hinata's, a seamless extension of her body and spirit.
The lion crouched low, its massive claws digging into the rooftop as it prepared to strike. Its chest expanded, and then it roared—a deep, guttural sound that echoed across the heavens, shaking the battlefield and reverberating through the very air. The roar wasn't just a sound; it was a declaration, a challenge hurled at the goddess before them.
"Byakuren: Tsugi no Mai—Akejishi!" Hinata's voice rose in unison with the lion's roar, her own defiance amplified by the overwhelming presence of the spectral beast.
Amaterasu's grin stretched impossibly wide, her delight shimmering in the glow of her Gurengan. "A lion, is it?" she mused, her tone dripping with condescension and amusement. "How quaint. Let us see if the hunter can pierce the sun." She remained utterly still, arms still spread wide, her presence towering and unyielding. To her, this was not a battle—it was an exhibition. A mere child and her lion, daring to challenge the heavens themselves.
Hinata's heart thundered in her chest, her mind locked on the task ahead. The second dance of the White Lotus, the Dawn Lion, was not a technique of precision like the first. It was a hunter's strike, crafted for domination. The lion's extended limbs shimmered with enhanced chakra, its claws transforming into long, razor-sharp ethereal blades. With this form, she could extend her reach far beyond her own physical limits, keeping herself at a safer distance while delivering overwhelming force.
The lion sprang forward, its massive form hurtling through the air as if propelled by a hurricane. Its claws slashed at the sky, carving through the very fabric of the battlefield as it bore down on Amaterasu. Hinata followed in tandem, her movements fluid and synchronized with the lion's as if they were one being.
Amaterasu's laughter rang out like the toll of a bell, her crimson kimono fluttering around her like the wings of a phoenix. "Come!" she called, her voice both a command and an invitation. "Prove to me that Kaguya's shadow is worthy of this stage! Show me your strength!"
The lion roared again, its claws descending in a devastating arc aimed directly at the dense core of natural energy that radiated from Amaterasu's body. The attack was calculated, driven by the guiding lines of chakra that shone in Hinata's Nichiren Byakugan. Every movement was deliberate, a culmination of her training and resolve. This was her chance—her only chance.
But it was not enough.
The instant the lion's claws met Amaterasu's presence, they shattered. The dense gravity of the goddess's chakra twisted and distorted the spectral construct, breaking it apart piece by piece. The roaring beast faltered, its limbs disintegrating into harmless motes of light. Its proud mane dissolved, its massive form crumbling like sand before the tide. The sound of the lion's roar faded into a pitiful whimper before vanishing entirely, leaving only silence.
Hinata's momentum carried her forward, even as her attack disintegrated around her. Her eyes widened in shock as she realized what had happened, but it was too late to stop herself. The sheer force of her own speed sent her hurtling, spinning uncontrollably through the air.
Amaterasu watched impassively, her smirk widening ever so slightly. "Pathetic," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the roaring wind. "You dare challenge a god with such frail power?"
Hinata's body arced through the sky like a falling star, her broken form descending toward the city below.
The world spun wildly around Hinata as she plummeted, the night sky and the devastated village blurring together in a chaotic whirl. Her body arched downward like a meteor streaking through the heavens, a trail of blood following her descent. The air roared in her ears, but she couldn't even muster the strength to brace herself. The ground rushed to meet her.
The first impact was catastrophic. Hinata slammed into the dirt road with such force that it felt as though the earth itself had been struck by a thunderbolt. The ground cratered beneath her, the shockwave ripping through the street and sending chunks of dirt and stone flying in every direction. Nearby windows exploded, shards of glass scattering like deadly rain. A cart parked along the road was overturned, its contents spilling out onto the street.
But her momentum didn't stop. Her broken body skipped across the ground, each collision sending tremors through her already mangled frame. The second impact drove her shoulder into the ground, a sickening crunch echoing through the air as her collarbone snapped. The third strike forced her onto her back, her head whipping back violently to crack against the dirt, her vision erupting in white-hot pain.
By the fourth collision, her body was limp, moving more like a ragdoll than a person. Her legs twisted grotesquely, the bones in her shins snapping audibly as they caught against a jagged piece of stone embedded in the ground. The force of her trajectory wrenched one arm backward, the dislocated joint tearing at her muscles with every bounce.
She finally came to an abrupt halt when her battered form collided with the base of a stone building. The impact was bone-jarring, sending a dull, reverberating crack up the structure's facade. The force sent debris tumbling down around her—chunks of stone falling like heavy rain, pelting her already broken body. A final, jagged boulder landed just beside her head, barely missing her.
For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.
Hinata lay crumpled in the wreckage, her body a ruined shell of its former self. Her legs were bent at unnatural angles, her shattered bones threatening to pierce through her torn and bloodied skin. One arm hung uselessly at her side, its fingers twisted into grotesque shapes. Her other arm lay sprawled across her chest, the bones clearly fractured beneath the bruised and swollen flesh.
Blood poured freely from a deep gash on her forehead, streaking down her face and into her one remaining open eye, dyeing her vision a hazy crimson. Her lips were cracked and smeared with blood, the taste of iron thick in her mouth. Her breathing was shallow and uneven, each labored inhale rattling painfully through her chest. A dark, purpling bruise spread across her ribcage where she had landed most forcefully, the internal damage threatening to collapse her lungs.
The pounding in her skull was unbearable, the sound of her own heartbeat thundering in her ears. She could feel her consciousness slipping, the edges of her vision fading to black as her body screamed for respite. Yet, somehow, she clung on—barely.
Dust and debris settled slowly around her, blanketing the carnage in an eerie stillness. The once-bustling street was now a scene of utter devastation, marked by craters, splintered wood, and shattered stone.
Hinata tried to move, but her body refused to obey. Every attempt sent fresh waves of agony coursing through her. Tears mixed with the blood on her face as frustration and despair threatened to overwhelm her. She had never felt so helpless, so utterly defeated.
She blinked, struggling to assess her surroundings. The shadow of the Hokage Monument loomed overhead. How far had she gone? Their battle had started in the heart of the village, near the black sun. Now, she was at the village's edge, her broken body lying in the shadow of Konoha's past leaders.
Her gaze drifted upward, the faint glimmer of stars barely visible through the haze of dust and destruction. For a moment, she allowed herself to get lost in the night sky, its serene beauty a stark contrast to the chaos that had unfolded. The stillness almost felt comforting—until her stomach dropped.
The black sun was gone.
The portal had closed, vanishing entirely from the sky. That was it. Her plan—the only plan—was now impossible. The fight had been over from the start, but now, even the slim chance of sealing Amaterasu back into the void was gone.
What had she been thinking? Hinata's thoughts swirled with despair. To challenge a god… she must have been delusional. She had fought with everything she had, pushed herself beyond her limits, but none of it had mattered. Her opponent wasn't just powerful—she was insurmountable.
But even as her mind whispered of failure, her body refused to listen. Broken and bloodied, she tried to move. Her legs screamed in protest, twitching feebly as she pushed herself against the cracked wall. Her hands, barely functional, clawed at the stone for leverage. Inch by agonizing inch, she propped herself into a sitting position. It was a hollow act of defiance, but it was all she had left.
The soft rustle of silk drew Hinata's wavering attention. Amaterasu descended from the sky, her movement impossibly graceful, as if the very air bent to accommodate her. Her feet finally touched the ground, the charred earth seeming to smolder under her presence. Her crimson kimono, patterned with intricate golden suns and swirling flames, trailed behind her like a living fire. Her Gurengan eyes burned with an intensity that seemed to pierce through the very soul, their shifting red and gold hues a stark reminder of the power that had overwhelmed Hinata so utterly.
Her face was serene, ethereal, framed by long, flowing hair that gleamed as dark as the void left by the black sun. Her aura radiated divine authority, suffocating yet mesmerizing, and the faint glow of her skin seemed to challenge the dim starlight above.
Amaterasu approached with unhurried steps, her gaze locked onto Hinata's battered form. The gap between them had been laid bare—so vast that it didn't even feel like a battle had taken place. Hinata's body trembled under the crushing weight of the goddess's presence, but her eyes remained steady. She refused to look away, her Nichiren Byakugan glowing faintly, its light flickering like a dying candle.
Amaterasu stopped just short of her, towering over the broken kunoichi. She tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a bemused smile. "How adorable," she said, her voice carrying an otherworldly lilt, soft yet dripping with condescension. "And how utterly ugly. The way you struggle, clinging to hope when there is none—it's delightful."
Hinata braced herself, expecting the worst. She thought Amaterasu would finally rip the Yata Mirror from her eye, reclaiming the sacred artifact and ending her suffering. But instead, the goddess crouched down, her movements deliberate and almost languid, as though she had all the time in the world. Her hand extended—not in violence, but with a disarming gentleness that sent a chill down Hinata's spine.
Amaterasu's slender fingers brushed through Hinata's blood-matted hair, her touch unnervingly tender. The contrast between the goddess's overwhelming presence and this intimate gesture made the moment all the more terrifying. Hinata felt her breath hitch, her body frozen under the weight of the goddess's attention.
"You've entertained me greatly tonight," Amaterasu murmured, her voice soft and deceptively kind. Her tone carried the warmth of a benevolent deity, but beneath it lingered the sharp edge of her cruelty. "Such tenacity, such desperation—it's a rare sight."
Her lips curled further into a wicked smile, her crimson eyes gleaming with a predatory satisfaction. "As a reward, I'll allow you to keep the Yata Mirror." She straightened, her shadow falling over Hinata like a shroud. "I have no further need for it. Even if you hold onto it, what does it matter? You've seen the difference between us. You know the truth now."
Her voice hardened, the faint warmth evaporating entirely. "You will never challenge me again."
"Hinata!" Yūhi Kurenai's voice rang out, cutting through the heavy silence of the ruined street. Her feet pounded against the cracked pavement, her chest burning as she sprinted toward the scene of devastation. She had been aiding the other shinobi in containing the spreading black flames, pouring her chakra into barrier techniques and fire suppression seals, when she saw it—a figure hurtling from the sky like a falling star, and when she realized who it was, all other priorities fell away. "Hinata, hold on!"
Hinata, slumped against the shattered remains of a stone building, could barely lift her head. Her body was a cacophony of pain, every nerve alight with agony. She tried to shake her head, to force out a warning, but her body betrayed her. No words came, only the faintest rasp of breath. Her vision blurred, and for a moment, she wasn't sure if Kurenai's voice was real or just a desperate figment of her imagination.
But it was real. She could hear the frantic pounding of Kurenai's footsteps growing louder, feel the warmth of her sensei's chakra as it surged closer.
Amaterasu, still standing like a queen surveying her conquered lands, turned with a languid grace. Her crimson kimono seemed to shimmer with an inner fire, the intricate patterns of golden suns glowing faintly in the dim light. Her Gurengan eyes, glowing with a predatory light, settled on the approaching kunoichi. A flicker of annoyance passed over her face, quickly replaced by calm amusement.
"I've already rewarded you enough, haven't I?" Amaterasu's voice was light, almost teasing, yet there was a chilling finality to her words. Slowly, she raised her right hand. A swirling sphere of black flame materialized, pulsing ominously as it grew larger. The air around it warped, the heat unbearable even from a distance. With a casual flick of her wrist, the flame erupted into a jet of fire, screaming toward Kurenai with the certainty of death.
For a heartbeat, the world seemed to freeze. Hinata's breath hitched as she watched the deadly flames close the distance to her sensei. It was hopeless. No one could withstand Amaterasu's flames. "Sensei… no…" she gasped, her voice barely a whisper.
But Kurenai didn't falter. Her hands blurred through a series of seals with a speed that spoke of years of mastery. "Katon: Moonfire's Great Fireball!" she shouted, her voice sharp and commanding. She inhaled deeply, her chest expanding as she gathered chakra, and exhaled a radiant torrent of whitish-orange flames. The fire surged forward, meeting Amaterasu's jet of black flames in a violent collision.
For a terrifying moment, the black flames seemed to overpower Kurenai's attack, the oppressive darkness of Amaterasu's chakra pushing forward, inch by inch. The ground beneath the clash cracked and splintered, and the heat grew so intense it warped the air around them. Hinata's heart sank. It wasn't enough. It couldn't possibly be enough.
Then, with a sudden burst of light, the Moonfire's radiance flared brighter. The whitish-orange flames surged, meeting the black fire head-on with renewed strength. The two attacks canceled each other out in an explosion of heat and light, the resulting shockwave rippling across the street and blowing back the dust and debris.
When the flames cleared, Kurenai stood firm, her body tense but unbroken. Her breaths came in heavy bursts, but her eyes burned with defiance. She glared up at Amaterasu, her fierce expression betraying no fear. "Get away from my student, you—" she began, but her voice faltered as her gaze took in the figure before her. The sheer presence of Amaterasu, the weight of her divinity, was unlike anything Kurenai had ever faced. This wasn't just an opponent. This was something beyond mortal comprehension.
Amaterasu tilted her head, her Gurengan gleaming with a faint curiosity. "Fascinating. You survived," she said, her voice as calm as if she were commenting on the weather. "You've been touched by the Moonfire Flower, haven't you? A relic of Kaguya's garden… an herb that grants unusual strength. How quaint." She studied Kurenai for a moment longer, her smile sharpening into something almost approving. "You are bold, mortal, I'll grant you that."
Kurenai's body trembled faintly, not from fear, but from the sheer intensity of the encounter. She tightened her stance, her protective instincts overriding the doubt gnawing at the edges of her mind. "Hinata…" she called softly, her voice carrying both reassurance and urgency. "Hold on. I'm here."
But even as she spoke, Kurenai knew the weight of the battle before her. This wasn't a foe she could fight alone. This wasn't a foe anyone could fight alone.
A swirl of space distorted beside Amaterasu, and Obito emerged from the void, dropping to one knee. "Amaterasu-sama," he said with deference, his tone sharp and controlled. "Forgive me for allowing one of these vermin to get so close. I will deal with her immediately."
Amaterasu lifted a hand, silencing him with an imperious gesture. "No," she said, her voice calm but final. "She survived my attack. She has earned the right to live. I am a benevolent goddess, after all." She turned her gaze back to Kurenai, her expression almost amused. "Of course, had the sun been in the sky, and I at full strength, she wouldn't have. But that's no longer relevant. The time has come for us to leave this place."
The words hit Hinata like a blow to the chest. Not at full strength? Her mind reeled with the realization. She had given everything—her body, her chakra, her resolve—and it hadn't been enough. She'd opened the Fourth Gate, poured every ounce of natural energy she could muster into her attacks, and still, Amaterasu had overpowered her without even trying. But to know that the goddess had been fighting her after the sunset, with her power diminished by the absence of her domain, was a horrifying truth.
Her gaze flicked to the blackened horizon, where the remnants of the battle still smoldered. The sun was gone, its absence casting the world into shadow. She fought her at her weakest, Hinata thought, dread pooling in her stomach. If this was the power of Amaterasu when she was weakened, what would she be like under the full light of day?
Her body trembled involuntarily, the weight of failure pressing down on her like the goddess's own oppressive gravity. If she couldn't stop Amaterasu now, with every advantage the night had provided, how could she ever hope to face her again? The thought lingered, sharp and bitter, as she watched the goddess turn towards Obito with an almost casual indifference.
Obito inclined his head. "As you wish," he said, casting a glance at Hinata. His smirk was cold, mocking. "See you later, Hinata of the White Lotus." With that, he activated his Mangekyō Sharingan, the swirling distortion enveloping both him and Amaterasu. In a blink, they were gone, the oppressive presence of the goddess vanishing as if it had never been.
For a moment, an eerie stillness settled over the battlefield. It felt unreal, as though the very fabric of reality had shifted with their departure. The weight of Amaterasu's divine power, so suffocating and all-encompassing, had lifted. Yet, the world she left behind bore the scars of her presence. The black flames still burned in the distance, their unnatural heat warping the air. Craters marred the streets, shattered buildings stood like broken sentinels, and the acrid smell of smoke hung heavy in the air.
Hinata stared at the destruction with unfocused eyes, her thoughts a blur. The sudden absence of Amaterasu was jarring, like waking from a nightmare only to realize the nightmare was real. Every ache in her shattered body was a grim reminder of what had transpired. The weight of her failure pressed down on her chest, heavy and suffocating, as she gazed at the chaos the goddess had left behind.
Kurenai didn't waste a second. She leapt over the smoldering remains of the battlefield, skirting the edges of the black flames, and dropped to her knees beside Hinata. She gathered the girl into her arms, holding her as if she might disappear. "Hinata!" she choked, her voice tight with relief and panic. "You're alive…"
"Sensei…" Hinata rasped, her voice barely a whisper. Blood streaked her face, mingling with tears as she weakly tried to move. "I… failed…"
Kurenai shook her head firmly, brushing a hand through Hinata's matted hair. "No. You fought harder than anyone could have asked." Her voice wavered, but her resolve didn't. "You're alive, Hinata. That's all that matters."
Hinata buried her face weakly against Kurenai's shoulder, her body trembling as pain and exhaustion consumed her. She didn't speak—she couldn't—but the weight of her failure pressed heavily on her.
Kurenai gently shifted Hinata, lifting her onto her back in a piggyback carry. With care, she secured the girl's limp arms over her shoulders, her own arms supporting Hinata's legs. "Hold on," Kurenai whispered, her voice soft and steady. "We're going home."
As she began to move, navigating the smoldering debris, her gaze hardened. "We'll figure this out," she murmured more to herself than to Hinata. "Together. As a village."
Hinata's head rested against her teacher's back, her body too broken to respond. The world around her blurred into shadows and ash, but Kurenai's warmth was a steady anchor. Despite the overwhelming despair, a small ember of determination flickered deep within her.
Amaterasu had escaped, but Hinata was alive. The fight wasn't over—it was only the beginning.
Chapter End
AN: I've mentioned before that the counting theme of Hinata's dances are based on Rukia's Zanpakuto from Bleach. So the second dance is the Tsugi no Mai（次の舞）literally read as The Next Dance. Then the subtitle for this dance was called Akejishi（明獅子）which is meant to mean The Dawn Lion. This one is kinda a combination of inspirations. First off is Hinata's Twin Lion step, where she forms lion shaped chakra around her fists. Then Gai's Gate techniques, which go from morning to night. So this was taking both those and putting it together.