Hinata: Byakurenden
Gaara vs Sasori
Gaara stood in the swirling sands of his former home, now transformed into a battlefield. Though it was past midnight, the oppressive glow of Sasori's false sun blazed in the sky, casting an eerie, golden daylight over Sunagakure. The artificial light illuminated every corner of the devastated village, making the surreal destruction feel even more unsettling. Shadows of the battle stretched long across the sand, jagged and unnatural.
The puppets of the Third and Fourth Kazekage stood as imposing figures of twisted artistry, grotesque in their meticulous detail. Together, the two puppets stood as a perversion of Sunagakure's greatest legacies. Their presence under the false sun's glow cast unnaturally long, warped shadows across the desert sands, as if mocking the very history they represented. They moved in eerie synchronization, their hollow, jerking motions amplified by Sasori's invisible threads of chakra. These were not leaders of the past, but desecrated relics, turned into weapons of war by the puppet master's cruel ingenuity.
Gaara's sand hovered protectively around him, six Sadōdama orbs circling his body like moons. Each orb glowed faintly, resonating with the immense energy compacted within. He stood calmly, his yellow eyes fixed on the puppets, unmoving yet completely in control.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Sasori's voice echoed from the puppets, cold and mocking. The sound came from nowhere and everywhere at once, carried on the oppressive weight of the false daylight. "Your predecessors, reborn as perfect tools of artistry. No longer bound by mortality or weakness. True immortality… wouldn't you agree?"
Gaara's voice was steady, though his disdain was palpable. "You've turned them into hollow shells. There's no art in that. Only desecration."
Sasori's chuckle echoed again, layered and sinister. The puppets moved in eerie sync, their movements precise yet devoid of life. "You mistake sentiment for strength. Your village is a monument to failure, Gaara. Fathers who betray their sons. Villagers who forsake their leaders. Blood ties that mean nothing. You cling to a broken foundation."
The Fourth Kazekage's puppet lifted its grotesquely elongated arms, and the air around it seemed to shimmer with the brilliance of its attack; A tidal wave of golden sand, an overwhelming cascade that surged forward with an intensity that consumed the battlefield. The granules moved as if alive, catching the false sunlight and scattering reflections in blinding arcs. The ground quaked under its weight, and the sound of grinding metal and stone echoed like a thousand storm surges colliding. This was no ordinary sand; the gold dust carried an unnatural density, its sheer mass capable of flattening buildings and burying entire armies.
As the golden wave bore down on Gaara, the Third Kazekage's puppet joined the assault, unleashing its iron sand with precision born of its twisted genius. The cloud of iron swirled violently, condensing into a forest of razor-sharp spikes that shot forward like a hailstorm of death. The spikes screamed through the air, their velocity enough to pierce through even the strongest defenses. The black sheen of the iron was stark against the golden light of the false sun, creating a contrast that only heightened the oppressive atmosphere of the battlefield.
But Gaara remained motionless, his Sadōdama spinning faster in response to the incoming devastation. The six orbs orbited him with impossible speed, their presence defying natural laws. Each Sadōdama radiated a subtle distortion in the air around them, bending light and pulling everything within their radius as if they were miniature black holes. As the golden sand tsunami reached him, the first orb surged forward. It swallowed the sand with an eerie silence, the granules vanishing into the orb's gravitational field as if devoured by an insatiable void. The wave broke apart mid-air, its sheer mass rendered meaningless in the face of Gaara's technique.
The iron sand spikes met a similar fate. As they hurtled toward Gaara, the Sadōdama reacted with terrifying precision. One orb shifted, drawing the spikes into its pull. The iron screamed in protest, twisting and crumpling as it was compacted into microscopic fragments, its structure dismantled at the molecular level. Another orb absorbed the remaining barrage, pulling the spikes into its spinning void and leaving nothing but empty air behind.
The ground trembled under the force of the simultaneous assaults, sand and iron alike scattering into harmless fragments as they collided with Gaara's defense. Yet he stood steady, unshaken by the overwhelming scale of the attacks. The Sadōdama hovered around him, their enigmatic power both shield and weapon. The orbs didn't simply nullify the attacks—they obliterated them, reducing even the most destructive forces into nothingness.
The sheer impossibility of the Sadōdama's existence was a testament to Gaara's mastery over his newfound powers. Their gravitational pull defied reason, breaking the physics of anything near them. The air around the orbs warped visibly, distorting light and creating a surreal, otherworldly effect. Even Sasori, speaking through his puppets, faltered for a moment at the sight.
"You're wrong," Gaara said calmly, his voice cutting through the chaos like the steady hum of wind over shifting sands. His gaze locked on the puppets of the Third and Fourth Kazekage, their grotesque forms twisted by Sasori's perverse artistry. "Bonds don't weaken us. They make us stronger, even when they're broken."
He let the truth of his words settle in the air, his tone as resolute as the desert he commanded. The golden and iron sands, symbols of his predecessors' might, swirled around him as if paying homage to their rightful heir. Gaara wasn't just defending his village—he was defending the bonds that defined him, the very essence of who he had become.
"I am not who I am by my strength alone," he continued, his voice layered with a calm intensity. "I carry the will of others within me—the bonds I have forged, the lives that have touched mine." He could feel the presence of Bunpuku, the old monk who once bore Shukaku and whose wisdom had tempered the beast's rage. He could hear the gruff laughter of Shukaku itself, the Tanuki's reluctant but fierce loyalty now intertwined with his own spirit. There was the fragment of the Rikudo Sennin, a piece of the great ancestor whose teachings offered clarity in the storm of his existence. And most precious of all, the enduring memory of his mother, Karura—the woman whose love had shielded him even in death.
"These bonds are why I stand here," Gaara said, his Sadōdama spinning faster as if to emphasize his words. "Bunpuku's faith taught me patience. Shukaku's strength gave me resolve. The Rikudo's wisdom opened my eyes. And my mother's love… her love gave me purpose." His voice softened, the weight of those words resonating even in the deafening silence of the battlefield. "Without them, I wouldn't be as strong as I am. Without them, I wouldn't be me."
The puppets shifted, their movements a mechanical mimicry of life as Sasori's voice echoed from every creaking joint. "How sentimental," the puppeteer sneered. "But sentiment has no place on the battlefield. Those bonds you cherish will only drag you down."
Gaara's gaze didn't waver, his conviction as unyielding as the desert itself. "You couldn't be more wrong. Bonds make us stronger. Even the broken ones leave their mark, shaping us, teaching us, pushing us to be better." His sand coiled tighter, responding to his unshakable will. "I stand here because of those bonds. And it's those bonds that will destroy you."
The Fourth Kazekage's puppet shot forward, its golden threads splitting into hundreds of tendrils that sought to ensnare Gaara. The Third's iron sand formed into a massive hammer, swinging down with lethal intent. Sasori's taunts continued, biting and relentless.
"Your father's legacy is nothing but lies and cruelty," he sneered. "He tried to kill you, remember? What kind of bond is that? What kind of leader leaves his son a monster?"
Gaara's expression didn't change, but the Sadōdama pulsed with renewed intensity. His hand moved in a subtle gesture, and the orbs shot forward. One collided with the hammer of iron sand, shattering it into a storm of metal shards. Another intercepted the golden tendrils, crushing them into sparkling dust.
"My father's mistakes are his own," Gaara said. His voice hardened, a trace of anger breaking through his calm. "But his strength belongs to me now. And this village is my responsibility."
The Fourth Kazekage's puppet lunged forward with unsettling speed, its movements fluid and unnervingly precise. Its arms extended, morphing into gleaming golden blades, each edge honed to lethal sharpness. The air seemed to shimmer around them, the weight of the metallic sand warping the battlefield's light as the puppet aimed directly for Gaara's chest.
Gaara reacted instantly, a wall of sand erupting from the ground to intercept the attack. The golden blades met the barrier with a deafening clash, their edges carving deep into the shifting grains, sparks flying with each brutal strike. The force of the puppet's assault pushed the sand wall to its limits, but just as the blades threatened to break through, Gaara sidestepped, his Sadōdama spinning into action with a sound like tearing wind.
The orbs moved with surgical precision, slamming into the puppet's arms mid-strike. The first Sadodama struck one blade at the base, snapping it clean off, while the second orb crushed the other arm in a whirl of sand and compressed matter. Golden fragments scattered across the battlefield like shards of sunlight. The Fourth's puppet staggered, momentarily destabilized, as Gaara's sand coiled around its midsection, locking it in place.
Gaara's expression remained calm, his gaze unwavering. Yet, as his sand coiled back toward him, a fleeting thought surfaced—an echo of the man the puppet had been modeled after. The Fourth Kazekage, his father.
For a brief moment, Gaara's mind wrestled with a complex mixture of emotions. The man who had once viewed him as nothing more than a monster was now reduced to this—a lifeless, manipulated husk. Breaking the puppet had felt necessary, a duty to protect the village his father had once led. But there was no satisfaction in the act, only a quiet, hollow resolve. If this was the only way to reclaim his home, so be it.
Before he could press the advantage, Sasori's voice echoed through the battlefield, its tone dripping with mockery. "That's the beauty of puppets, oh Sage of the Desert. They don't need arms to function."
The Fourth's puppet twitched unnaturally, its movements sharp and erratic as golden sand poured from the stumps where its arms had been. The shimmering grains gathered with alarming speed, reshaping into jagged golden appendages that writhed like serpents before lashing out at Gaara.
From behind, the Third Kazekage's puppet hovered ominously, its iron sand swelling and reshaping into an enormous, oppressive net. The metallic lattice descended toward Gaara like a tidal wave, its weight distorting the air and carrying the promise of annihilation.
Gaara's Sadōdama whirred, intercepting the golden appendages with a sharp burst of energy, compressing the attacking grains into dense, inert lumps. But the iron net was massive, its shadow stretching wide over the battlefield. Gaara's orbs released a wave of sand that surged upward to meet it, colliding with the iron in a brutal clash. The force of the impact sent tremors through the ground, rippling outward and carving furrows in the desert floor.
"You've enslaved their bodies, but they're still just relics of the past," Gaara said, his voice calm yet cutting, resonating across the chaos of the battlefield. His sand began to churn violently, spiraling outward in a controlled tempest that consumed the ground beneath the puppets. The golden and iron sands struggled against his will, the remnants of the Third and Fourth Kazekage fighting for dominance even in their twisted forms. But Gaara's mastery over the desert was absolute.
The Fourth's puppet lunged again, its newly-formed golden appendages aiming to pierce Gaara's defense. Gaara's sand surged in retaliation, crashing into the puppet with the force of a tidal wave. The Fourth Kazekage's once-mighty form crumpled under the relentless assault, its shimmering body collapsing into an unrecognizable heap as the golden glow dimmed and faded.
The Third Kazekage's puppet loomed behind, its iron sand reshaping with unnerving fluidity. The massive net it had formed earlier shattered into countless spikes, which shot toward Gaara like a storm of deadly projectiles. The Sadōdama rotated with blinding speed, creating a vortex of compressed sand and matter that devoured the iron spikes, grinding them into harmless dust. Gaara's sand rippled outward again, encircling the Third's puppet in a suffocating grip. The iron frame groaned under the pressure, its intricate joints snapping apart one by one until the puppet collapsed into jagged shards, lifeless and inert.
The battlefield fell eerily silent for a moment, save for the soft hiss of shifting sand. Gaara stood amidst the wreckage of the Third and Fourth Kazekage puppets, his Sadōdama orbiting him like vigilant sentinels. Their deliberate, rhythmic rotations were a stark contrast to the destruction they had wrought.
The golden light of the false sun still burned overhead, casting harsh, molten shadows across the battlefield. Its oppressive glow painted the ruins of Sunagakure in hues of molten amber, turning the once-familiar village into an alien wasteland. Gaara's gaze shifted upward, his focus locking onto the unnatural orb in the sky.
Sasori's voice, chilling and disembodied, echoed through the battlefield once more, rising above the clash of battle. "You think destroying those puppets changes anything? My work is eternal, Sage of the Desert. Let's see how long you can protect your precious bonds when the whole village turns against you."
Gaara didn't respond. His gaze lingered on the blazing sun above, his mind already working toward a plan to end the battle once and for all. The fight wasn't just for him—it was for the people fighting tooth and nail to reclaim their home, and for the bonds that had given him strength he never thought possible.
He closed his eyes briefly, the sands around him pulsing with life. Every grain of sand carried vibrations, and through them, he could feel the entire battlefield like an extension of his body. Thousands of footsteps echoed in his mind, each one distinct. He felt the synchronized marching of Sasori's puppets, their movements unnervingly precise and mechanical, closing in on pockets of resistance. He sensed the frenzied, desperate footfalls of his people.
The puppets were everywhere, spilling through the streets of the broken village like a flood of locusts. Their wooden limbs creaked and groaned, their polished bodies gleaming in the artificial sunlight. Some wielded blades coated in poison, their strikes calculated and ruthless. Others spewed fire, water, and even lightning, unleashing elemental fury against the outmatched defenders of Sunagakure. Gaara could feel the strain in the sand beneath his allies' feet as they darted between buildings, struggling to regroup and hold their ground.
Kankuro's distinct steps caught his attention. His movements were erratic but purposeful, leading a contingent of Sunanin through a maze of rubble. Gaara could sense the weight of Hidan's severed head cradled in Kankuro's arms, the Sunanin's focus split between avoiding the relentless puppets and protecting their bizarre cargo.
Nearby, a young Sunanin stumbled, his footsteps faltering before a puppet's blade descended. Gaara reacted without thought. The sand beneath the soldier's feet erupted, swallowing the puppet whole before it could strike. The soldier hesitated, glancing around in confusion before resuming his run. Gaara exhaled, his chest tight. He couldn't intervene everywhere. There were too many.
The entire village was a cacophony of battle. He could feel the heavy, purposeful strides of the larger puppets Sasori commanded personally, their forms towering over the battlefield like giants. Each step sent ripples through the sand, their weight an oppressive reminder of Sasori's overwhelming numbers. Smaller puppets swarmed the streets, their tiny, nimble bodies darting through the chaos, cutting down anyone too slow to react.
His sand told him of Sunanin holding their ground in clusters, their chakra reserves dwindling as they unleashed jutsu after jutsu to fend off the attackers. He sensed their fear, but also their determination—a resolve to fight for their home, even if it meant their lives. Explosions shook the ground as traps and counterattacks ignited, sending puppets flying in fragments. But for every puppet destroyed, another seemed to take its place, the tide unrelenting.
Gaara clenched his fists. His people were fighting valiantly, but they couldn't hold out forever. Sasori's forces were too numerous, too well-coordinated. His gaze shifted upward to the false sun, its oppressive light casting an aura of invincibility over the enemy. He knew that as long as the sun remained in the sky, Sasori's army would not falter.
"This isn't just your fight," Sasori's voice echoed mockingly from the scattered remains of the Kazekage puppets. "It's theirs. How many of your precious villagers will fall before you accept the inevitable?"
Gaara didn't respond, his focus instead narrowing on the sand beneath his feet. He expanded his awareness further, letting his senses stretch to the farthest corners of the battlefield. He stepped forward, the sands beneath him rising in response, forming a protective barrier around the nearest cluster of Sunanin. His voice, calm but commanding, resonated through the battlefield. "Hold the line! Protect each other! We will not fall today!"
The sands obeyed his will, sweeping through the streets in massive waves, swallowing puppets and shielding his people from harm. Yet even as he moved, even as he fought, he knew this was only a temporary reprieve. The tide would keep coming until the source was destroyed.
His gaze shifted once more to the false sun, its oppressive glow mocking him, casting the battlefield in an eerie daylight that didn't belong. The heart of Sasori's power loomed above them, and Gaara knew that as long as it remained, the battle would never truly be over. The struggle in the streets was only a distraction—if they wanted to save the village, they would have to strike at the very core of that false light.
Before Gaara could act, a thunderous roar broke through the battlefield. "Bijūdama!" Naruto's voice rang out, raw and defiant. The icy avatar of the Nine-Tailed Demon Fox charged through the desolate remnants of Sunagakure, its frosted hide gleaming under the artificial sun. Its massive frame, a blend of power and elegance, radiated primal energy as it leaped into action. The frozen Kurama gathered its chakra, the swirling energy compressing into a glowing sphere of magma-hot destruction, and launched it skyward. The devastating blast tore through the air, its sheer force warping the light around it as it arced above the shattered rooftops and hurtled toward Sasori's false sun.
Gaara's eyes followed the Bijūdama, the glimmer of hope flickering alongside the fiery sphere. If anyone could shatter that oppressive glow, it was Naruto.
The impact was cataclysmic. The explosion erupted with blinding light and deafening sound, momentarily blotting out all other sensations. The artificial sun flickered violently, its steady glow transforming into erratic pulses like the dying gasps of a faltering star. Shadows wavered and danced across the battlefield as the false daylight faltered, and Sasori's strings of sunlight glitched, causing his puppet army to stutter and freeze mid-attack.
Then the village plunged into darkness—true darkness. The midnight hour reclaimed its rightful place, the oppressive glow of the false sun replaced by the vast emptiness of the desert night. Without the light to guide them, the puppets collapsed like marionettes with severed strings, their lifeless forms striking the sand in a cacophony of dull thuds. For a moment, the battlefield was eerily still, the only sound the faint whispers of the wind shifting the sand.
Gaara stood motionless, his senses extending into the silence. Where his eyes failed, the vibrations in the sand spoke volumes. He could feel the sudden stillness of the battlefield, the absence of Sasori's once-unrelenting tide of puppets. Yet, the lingering tension in the air kept him wary. He didn't dare assume victory—not yet.
A few agonizing moments passed as his allies and the surviving Sunanin adjusted to the darkness. Only a select few moved confidently—those gifted with abilities beyond mortal sight. Sasuke and Hinata emerged from the shadows, their movements precise as they navigated the chaotic wasteland. Sasuke's Rinnegan glowed faintly, casting an eerie light around him, while Hinata's Nichiren Byakugan pierced the black void effortlessly.
Gaara felt a wave of relief wash over him at the sight of them. He hadn't known the full extent of what had transpired between them, Kabuto, and the Edo Tensei, but Naruto's return like a storm of fire and frost had given him hope that things had gone in their favor. Now, seeing Sasuke and Hinata alive and composed, his suspicions were confirmed. For the first time in what felt like hours, his burden lightened slightly.
"Seems like that might have done it," Sasuke said, his tone cautious as he approached Gaara. He scanned the remains of the battlefield with a calculating eye, searching for any signs of lingering threats.
"Perhaps," Gaara replied, his voice steady but tempered with skepticism. "But we can't assume he's gone. If Sasori truly created the puppet of Amaterasu, it's likely his true body is capable of moving independently, even in this darkness. He wouldn't have been able to maintain the false sun otherwise."
Hinata's voice broke in, soft but tinged with something Gaara couldn't quite place. "I think I see something… almost like a beating heart." Her Nichiren Byakugan had already honed in on the faint, rhythmic glow deep within the remnants of Sasori's forces. She stared intently, her gaze unwavering.
Gaara hesitated for a moment, his lips parting slightly as if to speak. He debated asking Hinata if she was alright, sensing a heaviness in her tone that he hadn't noticed before. However, something in her expression—calm yet resolute—stopped him. Whatever she had faced earlier, it was clear she wasn't ready to discuss it, and now wasn't the time to press. Instead, he filed the concern away for later, focusing on her words.
A heart. If that was truly all she could see, then Sasori must have long abandoned any semblance of a human body. The heart, Gaara reasoned, must be the core of his being—the last trace of flesh and humanity he clung to. The thought both disgusted and intrigued him. How far had Sasori gone to achieve his twisted vision of perfection? And how could something so small fuel such immense destruction?
"Then let's end this already," Gaara said, taking a deliberate step forward. His Sadōdama pulsed, their rotations quickening as they hovered protectively around him. He made it only a few steps before freezing mid-stride, the sand beneath his feet vibrating with subtle danger.
The silence shattered as Sasori's voice echoed across the battlefield, coming from seemingly everywhere at once. "You think you've won? You think extinguishing my light is enough to stop me? How naïve."
Before they could react, the light of the false sun reignited with a sudden, blinding intensity. It was as if the entire sky had exploded into daylight, a searing flash that pierced the surrounding darkness. The brilliance overwhelmed their senses, forcing even the most seasoned shinobi to shield their eyes. Gaara's sand instinctively rose around him like a cocoon, while Hinata and Sasuke staggered, momentarily blinded by the flashbang-like radiance. The world seemed to hold its breath in that glaring instant, the oppressive heat of the light washing over them like a wave of molten energy.
Gaara's senses sharpened, his body tense. The sand spoke to him, but this time it carried a warning. He could feel the faintest tremors—a shift in the air, in the ground, in the very fabric of the battlefield. Whatever Sasori had planned next, it was far from over.
"What the hell?" Naruto yelped, his voice a mix of confusion and alarm, as the giant ice fox stumbled, its massive paws digging into the shifting sands to steady itself. But it wasn't a simple trip. The earth quaked violently beneath them as if the entire world was being upended. And then it happened—the puppets, every single one of them, were lifted into the air as though yanked by some unseen hand.
But it didn't stop there. The entire village began to rise.
Buildings, market stalls, the towering walls of the village, and every last fragment of Sunagakure's life were torn from the earth and hurled into the air. The debris rose like an unholy offering to the false sun above. Entire structures, still eerily intact, spiraled upward alongside shattered rooftops, overturned carts, and the skeletal remains of what had once been bustling streets. Gaara felt the tremors ripple through the sand beneath his feet, a chaotic symphony of vibrations that told him nothing was spared. Pots and pans clattered against jagged shards of glass, wooden beams splintered mid-air, and even the smallest fragments of pottery and rusted kunai swirled in the vortex, their edges gleaming in the unnatural golden light.
The weight and density of each object seemed meaningless; everything moved as though the laws of gravity had been rewritten. Gaara's sharp gaze swept over the unfolding chaos, his instincts on edge. He glanced at Sasuke, his eyes narrowing in silent inquiry. Was this another unexpected use of Chibaku Tensei? The Uchiha caught his look and shook his head subtly, the glow of his Rinnegan reflecting the fragments of devastation swirling around them. But the slight crease in Sasuke's brow betrayed his own uncertainty. Whatever was happening, it wasn't his doing.
Even the smallest details were caught in the storm. Tattered pieces of fabric, splintered shuriken, and forgotten tools from half-destroyed homes joined the maelstrom. Gaara could sense it all—the weight of every fragment, the sheer scale of what had been taken from the village he sought to protect. This wasn't just destruction; it was desecration, an erasure of Sunagakure's very essence, repurposed into something monstrous. The sands beneath his feet churned, reacting to his rising fury, as he tried to make sense of the unimaginable scene unraveling before him.
Hinata, standing rigid, was the first to see it, her Nichiren Byakugan flaring with intensity. Her arm lifted, and she pointed toward the center of the storm. "There," she said, her voice taut with dread.
Gaara followed her line of sight, his own enhanced senses locking onto the heart of the chaos. Through the swirling debris, something moved—a familiar silhouette rising from the carnage. The puppet of Amaterasu, a grotesque, lifelike figure that was a chillingly perfect rendition of the sun goddess, ascended. It glowed faintly, its motion disturbingly smooth. And embedded in its chest, pulsating with eerie light, was the unmistakable source of all this power: Sasori's heart.
With the heart as its core, the puppet became something more. It wasn't just a tool or even a weapon. The puppet's movements carried a terrible intent, a new life born from Sasori's singular obsession with immortality.
The storm intensified. The debris spiraled faster, wood, stone, and steel drawn inexorably toward the puppet like planets caught in the pull of a black hole. Piece by piece, the remnants of Sunagakure—its homes, its monuments, its very walls—merged into the puppet, fusing into its ever-growing form. In mere moments, the puppet of Amaterasu disappeared entirely, buried beneath the swirling mass of what was once the Hidden Sand.
The amalgamation grew, a monstrous silhouette beginning to take shape. Limbs formed from entire buildings and streets; an arm constructed of jagged, metallic shards extended outward, its joints creaking as it moved. Its torso was a warped lattice of stone and wood, pulsating with light from Sasori's heart buried deep within. The legs were towering columns of sand and rock, their massive bulk crushing everything beneath them with each lumbering step.
By the time the transformation completed, the puppet stood taller than a mountain, dwarfing the ice-clad Kurama below. Its head, crudely sculpted from the ruins of a temple, featured hollow eyes that leaked beams of sunlight, and its mouth, a cavernous maw of jagged metal and stone, radiated an unholy glow. The false sun embedded in its chest flickered ominously, sending out pulses of energy that rippled across the battlefield.
The sheer scale of the monstrosity was suffocating. Its shadow stretched for miles, blanketing the sands in a false night, interrupted only by the piercing beams of light escaping its grotesque frame. The air trembled with its presence, each movement producing a deafening rumble that could be felt deep in the chest.
And then, it spoke.
"Do you see it now?" The voice reverberated through the air, emanating from every crevice of the monstrosity, as if the village itself had found a voice. The sound was layered, disjointed, and deeply unsettling—an amalgamation of hundreds of puppet voices. A gaping hole in the giant's chest began to open wider, revealing Sasori's pulsating heart, glowing with malevolent energy. "I am no longer Sasori of the Red Sand, nor am I some small being like the Kazekage."
The massive puppet tilted its head, a grotesque semblance of reverence in its fractured movements. "Oh, radiant Amaterasu," Sasori's voice crooned, twisted with obsession. "It is by your strands of divinity that I transcend mortality. You have blessed me with the light of creation, and through my art, your essence lives eternal." The glow from his chest flared brighter, pulsating like a heartbeat, as if in response to his words.
The puppet raised a massive arm, its hand larger than the grandest building that once stood in the village. Its twisted fingers, made of broken walls and jagged metal, pointed downward toward the battlefield. "I am The Village Hidden in the Sand incarnate! A monument to your splendor!"
The gargantuan puppet's single finger extended, releasing a torrential rain of weapons. Swords, kunai, shuriken, spears, and scythes, all coated with Sasori's signature poison, descended like a storm. Each piece was a relic from the countless puppets now absorbed into this monstrous form. The weapons fell with terrifying precision, their velocity enough to embed them deeply into the sand with explosive force.
"Take cover!" Kankuro's desperate shout rang out, though it was futile. There was nowhere to hide. The village was gone, its remnants now part of Sasori's titanic form.
The battlefield was stripped bare, a vast expanse of nothingness that stretched out endlessly under the oppressive light of the false sun. The sand lay unnervingly flat, its usual dunes and ridges erased in the wake of the chaos. The remains of the Village Hidden in the Sand—buildings, walls, even the smallest fragments of pottery—were gone, swallowed up to construct the monstrosity towering above them. What remained was a desert unnaturally still, a barren wasteland that felt more like a void than a place.
Gaara acted swiftly, his arms outstretched as his sand surged upward. Golden and iron dust intermingled with his chakra-infused sands, creating a massive shield that spread out in front of the Sunanin forces. The improvised barrier caught the deluge of weapons, though the sheer force of the assault caused cracks to spiderweb across its surface.
At the same time, the Sadōdama moved to protect Gaara, Sasuke, and Hinata. The orbs spun faster, intercepting weapons with impossible precision. They swallowed the attacks whole, compressing them into nothingness with their enigmatic gravitational force.
In the distance, Naruto and Kurama prepared to retaliate, their combined form brimming with defiance. But even they couldn't deny the overwhelming presence of the monstrous Sasori, towering over the barren wasteland like a nightmare given form.
"Renzoku Bijūdama!" Kurama and Naruto roared in unison, their voices harmonizing into a fierce battle cry. The icy armor encasing Kurama glistened under the false sunlight, steam hissing off its surface as the oppressive heat of their own attack threatened to melt it away. Poison-coated weapons ricocheted off the dense frost with sharp clangs, harmless against the fox's fortified hide.
Kurama gathered chakra in his maw, the energy condensing into a series of massive spheres that pulsed with destructive power. The frosted sheen of the armor began to fracture as the intense heat from the Bijūdama radiated outward, melting patches of the ice into steaming rivulets. Naruto grimaced as he focused his chakra, reinforcing the frost layer even as it dissolved under the pressure of their own attack.
One after another, the Bijūdama streaked through the air, their radiant energy distorting the atmosphere around them. Trails of white-hot light seared across the battlefield as each blast hurtled toward Sasori's titanic form. The successive detonations erupted with catastrophic force, sending shockwaves rippling through the emptiness. Sand and debris were flung skyward, momentarily obscuring the false sun in a veil of smoke and flame.
When the smoke cleared, however, Sasori's amalgamation stood untouched. The gargantuan puppet barely swayed, its colossal limbs undisturbed by the assault. The cracks and dents from the explosions seemed to knit themselves together as the structure absorbed pieces of the surrounding debris to repair itself.
"That tickles," Sasori's hive-like voice buzzed mockingly, resonating from the hollow recesses of his colossal frame. To punctuate his taunt, the gargantuan puppet raised one impossibly massive foot, the jagged debris of Sunagakure embedded within it glinting menacingly. The foot came crashing down with a force that seemed to split the very air, striking Kurama's icy form with an earth-shaking impact. The ice-armored fox was flattened, the ground beneath him cratering as a shockwave rippled outward, sending fragments of sand and rock flying in every direction.
"Feel the power of Amaterasu-sama, little fox," Sasori sneered, his voice a layered cacophony that carried a divine arrogance. The glow of the false sun intensified, casting harsh, flickering shadows over the battlefield as if to emphasize his dominance.
"Naruto!" Sasuke's voice cut through the chaos as he vanished in a blur of movement, his Rinnegan flaring to life. He reappeared beside his fallen friend in an instant, his sharp gaze already scanning to assess the damage. The scene before him was grim: Kurama's icy form had completely disintegrated under the force of Sasori's devastating strike. What remained was a swirling mass of red and black chakra, flickering erratically like a dying flame. The once-imposing fox had been reduced to a spectral presence, his physical essence shattered and absorbed into the battlefield. The ground where he had fallen was cratered and scorched, the weight of Sasori's attack carving deep gouges into the earth.
The sight of Kurama's broken form and the chaotic battlefield around him only hardened his resolve. He glanced briefly at his left arm, the mechanical appendage clicking softly as he prepared it for what he knew had to be done. With a faint glow from his Rinnegan, the arm began to shift, intricate machinery clicking into place as it transformed into a series of emitters and conduits, each one charged with concentrated chakra.
Then, it happened—a surge of radiant power lit the battlefield, stealing his attention for a moment. All eyes turned to the figure standing defiantly tall, her form glowing with an intensity that pierced even the oppressive light of Sasori's false sun. The air around her shimmered with raw energy, and the ground beneath her feet cracked as her chakra flared to life. Sasuke didn't hesitate. He recognized the opening her surge of power would create, and he knew exactly what his next move would be. As Hinata's presence demanded Sasori's focus, Sasuke's mechanical arm hummed with energy, ready to help his friend.
"Fourth Gate: Gate of Pain—Open!" Hinata's voice echoed with authority, her tone a mix of raw determination and divine wrath. Her chakra flared outward in an explosion of white-hot energy, the sheer pressure of it causing the air around her to ripple. Her shrine maiden robes danced furiously in the storm of chakra, and her Nichiren Byakugan burned brightly, reflecting her fiery resolve.
The energy around her began to coalesce, transforming into the majestic form of a lion, its body composed of pure, flaming chakra. The lion's mane roared like an inferno, its claws glimmering with an intensity that seemed capable of tearing through anything in its path, and its sharp, glowing eyes fixed on Sasori's colossal form with predatory determination. Hinata was not atop the lion but encased within it, her form nestled inside its chest like the beating heart of the great beast. The chakra construct pulsed around her, synchronized with her own energy, amplifying her every movement and intention.
"Byakuren: Tsugi no Mai—Akejishi!" she cried, her voice ringing out like a battle hymn as the chakra lion roared in unison, its sound a deafening declaration of challenge. The air around them seemed to ripple and distort under the heat and power emanating from the construct, as though the very fabric of reality struggled to contain it.
The flaming lion, as large as Kurama himself, leaped forward in a massive bound that closed the distance, its blazing paw swiping at Sasori's ankle with ferocious power. The impact reverberated through the gargantuan puppet's structure, forcing Sasori to take several lumbering steps back. Each movement of his massive form was deliberate yet seismic, the ground quaking violently beneath him as shockwaves rippled outward for miles. Columns of sand erupted into the air with every step, cascading back down in shimmering storms of golden and iron particles that struck the scattered Sunanin with a force that felt as though the desert itself was punishing them.
Inside the lion, Hinata's body endured a relentless assault of its own. Every movement she commanded caused her muscles to tear and her bones to strain under the immense pressure of the Fourth Gate. The surging chakra within her body burned like molten fire. Each step of the Akejishi radiated this pain back into her, a violent feedback loop of destruction.
Yet the natural energy flowing through her from the Nichiren Byakugan fought back with equal intensity, healing the damage almost instantly. Torn muscles mended themselves, cracked bones sealed, and burned flesh regenerated in moments. But this constant cycle of damage and healing came at a cost. The pain was unrelenting, as if her body was being shredded and stitched back together in an endless chain.
Her face was a mask of concentration, though her teeth clenched against the agony threatening to overwhelm her. The flames of the Akejishi burned brighter with each pulse of her energy, a reflection of her sheer determination. Even as her body screamed in protest, her will refused to falter. "I won't let you take any more from this village!" she shouted, her voice breaking through the chaos as the lion charged again, its fiery claws carving through Sasori's massive form like a blazing comet tearing through the night.
"You really don't know when to give up," Sasori sneered, his puppet body recovering with disturbing ease. His massive mouth opened wide, a gaping abyss glowing with concentrated energy. With a sudden burst, a beam of pure sunlight erupted from within, searing through the battlefield in a deadly arc. Hinata's Akejishi darted and weaved, the lion's flaming body moving with an agility that belied its size as it narrowly avoided the devastating blast, drawing Sasori's attention entirely onto her.
"Shukaku!" Gaara's voice rang out, his hands weaving into a series of quick seals. His sand churned around him in a wild frenzy, and his form began to shift. The air around him grew heavy with chakra as his body expanded, his sandy armor reshaping itself into the hulking form of the One-Tailed Tanuki. The transformation was seamless, a perfect union of Gaara and Shukaku's shared will. The tanuki's massive body radiated an intimidating presence, its spiraling blue tattoos glowing faintly against the swirling gold of its sand-laden exterior.
Gaara's transformation was not merely physical. His eyes glowed with an unearthly intensity, the wisdom of Bunpuku, the ferocity of Shukaku, and the fragment of Rikudo Sennin's power merging within him. Every movement exuded calculated precision as he commanded the sands to rise in swirling torrents around his towering form.
The mighty tanuki shifted its weight, planting its massive feet firmly into the sands. Gaara, now fully merged with Shukaku, inhaled deeply, the air around him warping and distorting as he drew in vast quantities of wind. The swirling gusts formed a vortex, grains of sand spinning chaotically around his hulking form. Then, with a deafening roar, Gaara slammed his claw into his own inflated stomach, expelling a concentrated wind bullet directly downward.
The force of the blast launched him into the air like a missile, his massive frame hurtling skyward as the battlefield below shrank in his wake. The air trembled with the sheer energy of the maneuver, a shockwave rippling outward as his sudden ascent displaced the sand below, leaving behind a deep crater.
As Gaara soared higher, his chest swelled, his entire frame brimming with raw energy. High above the battlefield, his form silhouetted against the oppressive glow of Sasori's false sun, he gathered the power of his own Bijūdama. The orb of condensed chakra swirled ominously in front of him, growing larger and as it absorbed more energy. The intensity of the attack caused the surrounding air to vibrate, faint streaks of lightning sparking around the swirling mass of chakra.
Gaara took aim, his golden eyes narrowing as he locked onto Sasori's towering head, the grotesque amalgamation of the village's remnants. With a thunderous roar, he unleashed the Bijudama, the devastating sphere of energy streaking toward Sasori like a falling star. The Bijūdama slammed into the puppet's head, the explosion shaking the heavens, but as the smoke cleared, Sasori's grotesque form remained standing, barely scratched.
"You were still here?" Sasori taunted, swinging his colossal hand through the air with alarming speed. The blow connected with Shukaku mid-descent, swatting the tanuki like a ragdoll. Gaara's form was sent careening across the sky before crashing into the sands below. The impact sent a tidal wave of golden grains cascading outward, sweeping across the battlefield and scattering nearby combatants like leaves in the wind.
Even as Gaara began to rise, struggling against the force of the blow, Hinata's blazing Akejishi continued its relentless assault. The white-hot chakra lion danced across the sands, evading Sasori's sunbeam attacks with fluid precision, its glowing form a beacon against the oppressive darkness. Sasori's focus shifted, his narrowed gaze locking onto the radiant chakra lion. Its light drew his attention like a moth to a flame, and for the first time, the giant puppet hesitated.
"Persistent, aren't you?" Sasori's voice buzzed with annoyance as his amalgamated form adjusted its stance, turning to face Hinata's Akejishi fully.
Nearby, Kurama, the mighty Nine-Tailed Beast, began to reform, the chaotic swirl of red and black chakra coalescing into his towering shape. His body pulsed with primal power, raw energy rippling through the air as he solidified into his full form once more. The oppressive aura of the tailed beast radiated across the battlefield, a stark counter to the grotesque colossus of Sasori.
Standing before the reforming beast was Sasuke, his expression calm yet razor-sharp. His Rinnegan glowed ominously, illuminating the ground around him with a faint, ethereal light.
His metallic left arm, a marvel of the Asura Path, whirred into motion with purpose, gears and compartments clicking into place as he began preparing Kurama's next transformation. Bolts and screws drilled themselves into place with sharp metallic whines, binding every piece with precision as panels and joints seamlessly connected to the beast's coalescing chakra form. Sparks flew with each adjustment, the glow of molten metal briefly illuminating Sasuke's focused face.
He began with the base—claw-like appendages forged from his prosthetic arm's chakra-infused mechanisms. These massive constructs clamped onto Kurama's legs with a resounding clang, the claws glowing faintly with Jiton chakra. They were designed to bolster Kurama's already formidable strength and agility, turning his natural prowess into something even more devastating.
Next, Sasuke focused on propulsion. The prosthetic arm generated streamlined thruster modules, which snapped into place on Kurama's limbs. The thrusters hummed with power as they activated, sparking to life in unison. Sasuke's focus never wavered, his Rinnegan glowing brighter as he concentrated.
He moved to Kurama's back, where he crafted collapsible wings—sleek, angular frames outfitted with jet boosters and weaponized cannons. The wings unfolded with a sharp hiss, locking seamlessly into Kurama's form. They extended fully, their size rivaling that of a small building, their surfaces etched with intricate patterns for optimal chakra flow.
Finally, Sasuke created the centerpiece of the transformation: a helmet designed to encase Kurama's head. The helmet's angular design was both protective and functional, engraved with glowing runic seals to enhance sensory perception and shield against incoming attacks. It fit into place with a metallic click, the visor blazing a vivid orange, mirroring the intensity of Naruto's chakra.
As the transformation completed, Sasuke's prosthetic arm returned to its resting state, his work now towering before him. Kurama, fully mechanized, was a terrifying marvel of raw power fused with advanced technology.
Sasuke leaped upward in one fluid motion, landing atop Kurama's head with practiced ease. Standing tall against the backdrop of the false sun, he surveyed the battlefield from his new perch. The fusion of primal power and advanced technology was now ready for battle. Kurama's massive claws flexed, his thrusters roared to life, and the two prepared to launch their assault on Sasori's monstrous form.
"Kurama: Stage Nine—Jiton Mode!" Naruto and Sasuke shouted in unison, their voices merging with Kurama's guttural growl. The giant fox surged forward, his thrusters igniting with a roar that echoed across the battlefield. With a single, powerful leap, Kurama launched into the sky, his wings propelling him higher. He soared above the desolation of the battlefield, his mechanized form an unrelenting force poised to turn the tide against Sasori's titanic amalgamation.
Panels along Kurama's body opened, revealing an arsenal of weapons. The cannons mounted on his back hummed with power, and compartments on his sides released a swarm of missiles. The barrage began, lasers and explosives streaking through the air as they pelted the massive form of Sasori's puppet. Each explosion dislodged chunks of stone, metal, and wood, sending debris raining down onto the battlefield below.
Sasori's massive body stumbled, the first real sign of damage appearing as large fragments of his form broke away. His voice, usually calm and calculating, sputtered with frustration. "What… what is this?" he growled, his hive-like voice vibrating with anger. He swung one massive arm toward Kurama, the speed of the attack slow but devastatingly powerful.
Kurama twisted in midair, his wings flaring as he dodged the swing with ease. The thrusters on his legs fired in short bursts, adjusting his trajectory with pinpoint precision. Sasuke, standing atop Kurama's head, continued his work, using the Asura Path to replenish their ammunition. Each moment saw the mecha-Kurama becoming a more formidable weapon, its capabilities evolving in real time under Sasuke's guidance.
Sasori's attention was drawn skyward, his focus locked on the flying form of Mecha-Kurama. The mechanized fox darted through the air with surprising agility, its thrusters roaring as it unleashed a relentless barrage of missiles, bullets, and lasers. Each projectile slammed into Sasori's towering frame, sending shards of debris flying from the massive amalgamation. The colossus groaned under the onslaught, its form beginning to show cracks in its otherwise impenetrable structure.
Seizing the opportunity, Gaara, in the form of Shukaku, took advantage of Sasori's distraction. With a guttural roar, he called upon the vast reserves of sand beneath the battlefield. The earth trembled as a tidal wave of sand surged upward, its crest towering high before crashing into Sasori's knees with unrelenting force. The impact caused the massive puppet to stagger, its colossal form lurching forward as its balance wavered.
The combined might of Mecha-Kurama's aerial assault and Shukaku's sand tsunami was enough to bring even a god to its knees—or so it seemed.
Sasori swayed under the onslaught, his movements sluggish and deliberate as he struggled to maintain his balance. Yet, despite the damage, his voice rang out with defiance. "You think this is enough to stop me?" The false sun at the core of his chest flared with renewed intensity, its light piercing through the chaos as Sasori steadied himself. "Amaterasu's power cannot be so easily overcome. You are but insects before her divine radiance!"
Naruto and Kurama, now enhanced by Sasuke, and Gaara, commanding Shukaku's immense power, created the perfect opening. Mecha-Kurama soared above, its thrusters roaring as it rained down missiles and laser fire. Each blast battered Sasori's massive form, forcing him to divert his attention skyward. At the same time, Gaara unleashed colossal tidal wave after tidal wave of sand from below, slamming into Sasori's knees with the force of a constant natural disaster.
Hinata seized her moment.
"Fifth Gate: Gate of Joy—Open!" Her voice rang out like a battle cry, echoing across the battlefield as her chakra exploded outward in another dazzling flare. Her body surged with raw energy, veins glowing faintly as the power of the fifth gate coursed through her. She had refrained from using this during her sparring match with Naruto, fearing the sheer destructive force it would unleash. But here, in the heat of battle, there were no restrictions—only the desperate need to end this once and for all.
The chakra of the Akejishi roared, its mane burned with an intensity that lit up the battlefield, and its growl echoed like distant thunder. Inside the blazing construct, Hinata's Nichiren Byakugan focused intently, reading the movements of Sasori's colossal form and finding the weak point in his ankle. Her body burned with pain, the constant damage of the opened gates barely kept in check by the natural energy that flooded her system. Yet she pressed forward, her determination unshakable.
"Shishidama!" Hinata bellowed, her voice carrying the weight of her resolve as the Akejishi opened its massive maw. The energy gathered at its core, a brilliant sphere of pure white chakra forming with blinding intensity. Unlike the destructive red energy of the Biju-dama, the Shishidama glowed with a celestial brilliance, its light searing through the oppressive gloom of Sasori's false sun.
The air itself seemed to warp as the Shishidama charged, the battlefield momentarily hushed by the overwhelming energy radiating from the lion's core. Then, with a deafening roar, the Akejishi unleashed the beam. The white-hot energy carved through the air in a sweeping arc, striking Sasori's ankle with devastating precision. The light scorched everything in its path, cutting through the amalgamated mass of debris like a blade through paper.
The impact was immediate and catastrophic. The Shishidama sheared through Sasori's ankle, severing the massive limb with an explosion of light and debris. The giant puppet let out a groaning creak, its balance thrown off as it teetered. Sand erupted beneath its massive form as it struggled to stabilize itself, its enormous weight pressing down on its remaining supports.
From above, Mecha-Kurama unleashed another barrage of missiles and lasers, targeting the exposed wound left by Hinata's attack. Below, Gaara's tidal wave of sand surged upward, piling against Sasori's legs and further destabilizing him.
Sasori staggered, his titanic puppet trembling under the combined might of their relentless assault. Large cracks began to show in the seemingly invincible construct. Debris rained down in chunks as the three warriors unleashed their full power, their attacks working in perfect harmony.
Hinata's chest heaved as she steadied herself within the Akejishi, the pain of her overexerted body almost unbearable. Yet she didn't falter, her eyes locked onto Sasori as she prepared for the next strike. Together with Naruto and Gaara, she could feel it—they were finally starting to wear him down.
Down below, Kankuro and the rest of the Sunanin stood frozen, their weapons hanging limp in their hands as they stared at the chaos unfolding above. The battlefield was no longer something they could comprehend, let alone influence. The sheer scale of destruction and power had surpassed anything they'd ever imagined. What they were witnessing wasn't a clash of ninja—it was a battle of gods, and they were mere ants watching from the sidelines.
Kankuro's throat felt dry as he cradled Hidan's disembodied head in his arms. "What the hell… am I even looking at?" he muttered, barely able to find his voice. His puppets, once his pride and primary weapon, felt like nothing more than toys compared to the titanic forces colliding in the distance.
"Lord Jashin, this shit is nuts," Hidan managed to rasp, his voice still dripping with his characteristic irreverence despite his predicament. His dismembered state made the scene even more absurd, but Kankuro couldn't even muster a retort. For once, he silently agreed.
All around them, the remaining Sunanin had similarly paused, their expressions a mix of awe and despair. The horizon was dominated by Sasori's gargantuan puppet, its towering frame blotting out what little light came from the stars and false sun. Its massive limbs tore through the air with devastating swings, each movement creating shockwaves that sent tremors through the desert sands. Shukaku's towering form, Gaara's manifestation of the Demon Spirit of the Desert, countered the puppet's attacks with a ferocity that could only come from something equally ancient and primal.
Above it all, Mecha-Kurama streaked through the sky like a futuristic war machine, launching a relentless barrage of missiles and lasers that lit up the heavens like fireworks. The fox's thrusters roared, its armored body twisting and spinning to evade Sasori's massive swipes, each movement precise and lethal. The sheer noise and light of the battle felt like it could overwhelm the senses.
And then there was Hinata in the Dawn Lion of the White Lotus. Her blazing Akejishi moved with an elegance and savagery that felt otherworldly, its glowing white chakra a stark contrast to the grim chaos of the battlefield. The lion roared as it leapt across the sand, its enormous claws swiping at Sasori's legs with such force that the earth quaked beneath them. The sheer power radiating from her and the lion made it impossible to look away—her presence was as captivating as it was terrifying.
Kankuro tightened his grip on Hidan's head, his knuckles white. "What the hell are we even doing here?" he said under his breath, his voice filled with a mix of resignation and awe. "We're not even in the same league as them…"
A younger Sunanin to his left whispered, almost reverently, "This isn't a battle. It's… something else."
The truth of the statement settled over them like a weight. Their weapons, their jutsu, their years of training—all of it felt like nothing in the face of what they were witnessing. This wasn't the kind of fight any ordinary ninja could participate in. It was a clash of forces that were beyond mortal understanding, beyond mortal limits. And all they could do was stand there and watch, dwarfed by the power and scale of it all.
Kankuro exhaled slowly, forcing himself to look away from the chaos above. "Just stay alive," he muttered to the others, his voice carrying an edge of command despite the hopelessness he felt. "Stay out of their way and stay alive. That's all we can do now."
But even as he said it, he couldn't help but glance back at the figures in the distance—the desert's demon, the mechanized fox, and the radiant lion—and wonder if anything mortal could truly survive in the presence of such gods.
"I've had enough of all of you…" Sasori's voice boomed, no longer the cool, detached tone of the artist but something tinged with frustration. His chest split open, revealing the blinding core of the false sun. Within it was the puppetized goddess, Amaterasu, her serene visage now grotesquely glowing with an unnatural brilliance. The light intensified as the sun charged, the air around it crackling with raw energy.
A split second later, beams of concentrated plasma erupted from the sun, radiating outward like the wrath of a vengeful deity. The beams tore through the air, their heat so intense that the sand beneath them melted into glass. The attack's scope was relentless, firing in all directions and leaving no avenue for escape.
Mecha-Kurama roared upward, its thrusters flaring with brilliant bursts of blue light as it twisted and turned in an effort to avoid the deadly beams of plasma raining down from Sasori's colossal form. Each ray tore through the air with terrifying precision, carving molten scars into the desert below as they narrowly missed their target. The sheer heat of the attacks created waves of distortion, making the mechanized fox's flight path even harder to maintain.
Kurama's massive wings folded and flared as Sasuke guided him through an evasive maneuver, narrowly dodging a beam that seared past his left flank, close enough to scorch the metallic plating. But even the advanced thrusters and precision controls couldn't keep up with the relentless onslaught. One beam finally struck true, slamming into the armored fox's side with a thunderous explosion.
The force of the impact was devastating, sending Mecha-Kurama spiraling out of control. Sparks and shards of metal flew as the beam tore into the fox's flank, leaving a trail of molten damage in its wake. Sasuke clung to Kurama's head, his Rinnegan glowing as he tried to stabilize the descent, but the sheer velocity of their fall was impossible to counteract.
With a deafening crash, Mecha-Kurama slammed into the ground, the impact shaking the battlefield and sending a shockwave rippling through the sand. A massive smoldering crater formed where the fox landed, steam and smoke rising from its scorched armor. Pieces of the mechanized plating had been ripped away, exposing the raw, glowing red and black chakra underneath. Kurama growled low and deep, his immense body struggling to rise, while Sasuke leapt from his position to avoid the rising heat of the damage.
Sasuke landed lightly on the edge of the crater, his Rinnegan darting across the battlefield, assessing the situation even as his prosthetic arm whirred into action. The damage was severe, but the fox wasn't out of the fight yet. With a grim expression, Sasuke began recalibrating the armor, readying Kurama to re-enter the fray as the battle raged on.
Gaara's Sadōdama spun into action, their dense, black-hole-like presence intercepting a plasma beam that passed dangerously close to him. The orbs absorbed the energy with a faint pulse, the beam vanishing into their impossibly compact centers as if devoured by a collapsing star. The intense heat and light dissipated immediately, leaving Gaara momentarily shielded from the overwhelming power of Sasori's attack.
The sand beneath his feet shifted restlessly, responding to his growing determination as he assessed the battlefield. The Sadōdama hovered around him protectively, their pulsing rhythm synchronizing with the rapid calculations in his mind. The sight of the orbs consuming the plasma so effortlessly planted a seed of an idea—a risky but potentially decisive counterattack.
Hinata's Akejishi faced the onslaught head-on, its glowing white form radiating an unyielding aura of defiance. From within the lion's blazing chakra body, a shield materialized—the ethereal Yata Mirror, shimmering with an iridescent glow. Like an impenetrable barrier, the mirror floated effortlessly in front of the lion, absorbing the plasma beams as they struck its surface. The sheer force of Sasori's attacks failed to penetrate the defense, each beam dissipating into harmless light as the mirror resisted without a single crack.
The lion's movements were deliberate, bounding across the battlefield with precision, the Yata Mirror hovering before it like an unshakable guardian. Each step caused the ground to quake, but the lion did not falter. With a roar, the Akejishi lunged forward, its barrier unwavering as it charged through the remnants of Sasori's destructive beams, scattering smaller debris in its path like leaves in the wind. The mirror reflected the light of the false sun, its glow intensifying as if mocking Sasori's power, standing as an immovable wall against the puppet's relentless assault.
Sasori's hollow voice echoed across the battlefield, his irritation evident. "Constantly defying Amaterasu-sama's divine light… How utterly tiresome." His massive form turned slightly, directing more of the sun's relentless beams toward the radiant lion, his focus narrowing on Hinata. "You're nothing more than an eyesore," he sneered, unleashing another barrage.
Gaara's eyes glinted as the perfect opening revealed itself. Sasori's distraction gave him the window he needed. "Naruto!" Gaara called through their mental connection shared by all Jinchūriki, his voice sharp and urgent. "Listen carefully—I have a plan."
Naruto's mental voice carried a tinge of confusion. "Gaara? What's up?" The connection between Jinchūriki was still unfamiliar, but Naruto quickly set aside his surprise. He relinquished control to Kurama, trusting the fox's instincts as they prepared for whatever Gaara had in mind.
"The next time you attack, don't aim it at Sasori—aim it at me," Gaara instructed, his tone calm but urgent. There was no time for elaborate explanations, no room for doubt. His Sadōdama pulsed ominously around him, dense with energy absorbed from the battlefield.
"Wait, what?!" Naruto's protest was cut short by Kurama, who immediately grasped the strategy.
"I see what you're planning," the fox growled in approval, his deep voice tinged with excitement. "It's risky, but it might work."
Gaara's gaze shifted toward Hinata, the Akejishi weaving through Sasori's deadly beams with a precision and grace that defied the chaos around her. "What about the White Lotus? She'll need to know."
"Hinata's sharp—she'll figure it out," Naruto said without hesitation. His faith in her was absolute, and Gaara nodded, allowing himself a moment of trust in his newfound allies. The pieces of this desperate gamble were falling into place.
Mecha-Kurama roared as Sasuke's Asura path finished repairing the last of the damage. The fox crouched low, its thrusters engaging as it launched into the sky once more. The roar of its jets cut through the battlefield, a sound that sent tremors even through Sasori's massive, amalgamated body. For a moment, the giant puppet turned its glowing, sun-like gaze toward the flying fox.
Sasori's hollow voice filled the air. "Back for more? You vermin never learn." His massive arm swung upward, unleashing a hail of debris and sharpened fragments of the village itself. The chunks of metal and stone hurtled toward Kurama with deadly precision, each one glowing faintly with the remnants of Sasori's chakra.
Kurama twisted in midair, his thrusters firing bursts of energy beams and missiles to counterattack the incoming barrage. The fox's movements were swift, a blur of metallic power and primal fury as Sasuke piloted its trajectory with unrelenting focus. But even as they dodged, Kurama's volley of missiles and lasers arced high, overshooting Sasori entirely.
"What are you doing…?" Sasori sneered, his hive-like voice resonating in mockery. His confidence faltered for a split second as the payload streaked toward Shukaku instead.
Gaara's Sadōdama intercepted the oncoming barrage, their enigmatic orbs glowing as they absorbed the deadly payload. The orbs pulsed brighter, their surfaces swirling with the condensed energy of Kurama's assault, each one becoming a compact storm of destructive potential. Sasori's eye sockets flickered, his focus snapping to the growing energy within Gaara's orbs.
"You—!" Sasori roared, shifting his massive form. His colossal arm slammed downward in a desperate attempt to crush Gaara beneath his weight. A tidal wave of sand responded instantly, rising to meet the strike and forming a massive barrier reinforced with golden and iron dust. The impact was deafening, the collision sending shockwaves rippling through the desert, but Gaara stood his ground, his gaze sharp and unyielding.
Nearby, Hinata's Nichiren Byakugan captured every detail of the exchange. Her vision honed in on the way the Sadōdama devoured the energy, and her expression tightened. Without hesitation, she surged forward, the Akejishi glowing brighter as it bounded across the battlefield.
"Shishidama!" Hinata's voice rang out, carrying both strength and urgency. The Akejishi roared, its chakra forming into a beam of pure white light that cut through the battlefield with unerring precision. The radiant energy arced beneath Sasori's towering form, streaking toward Gaara with purpose.
Sasori's massive frame twisted unnaturally, his arms extending like serpents as he tried to intercept the beam. "You think I'll let you?!" he bellowed, unleashing another barrage of plasma beams from the false sun embedded in his chest. The beams carved through the air, aiming to sever the connection between Hinata's attack and Gaara's defense.
The Yata Mirror manifested again, the flaming Akejishi holding it aloft like a shield. The plasma beams collided with the reflective surface, deflecting harmlessly into the remnants of the battlefield. Hinata's Shishidama struck true, feeding directly into Gaara's Sadōdama.
The orbs swelled with power, their dense, black-hole-like presence shuddering under the strain. Even stray beams of sunlight from Sasori's attacks were drawn into their gravitational pull, the energy feeding into the growing storm.
"This is only going to work once!" Gaara called out, his voice resolute and filled with conviction. The Sadōdama spun faster, their density and energy reaching a breaking point.
Sasori's desperation became evident. "You think your tricks will save you?" His massive hands swung wildly, aiming to obliterate Gaara before the attack could unleash.
Kurama dove down like a thunderbolt, his cannons roaring to life. Missiles and lasers peppered Sasori's arm, forcing it off course and granting Gaara the crucial moment he needed.
The Sadōdama erupted in a blinding burst of energy, a force so immense it seemed to shatter the very fabric of reality. The explosion was not merely a detonation but a phenomenon, a fusion of elemental fury and concentrated destruction that turned the battlefield into a vortex of chaos. A brilliant cascade of light tore through the darkness, rendering the false sun's glow insignificant as it washed everything in a blinding, white-hot brilliance. Shadows stretched and vanished, consumed by the radiance that momentarily erased the lines between earth and sky.
The shockwave followed, a monstrous wave of kinetic force that rolled outward in a circular torrent. The ground split and cracked in its wake, sand and stone disintegrating into fine dust that joined the expanding wall of energy. Entire dunes were leveled, their imposing heights reduced to flat plains in an instant. The air itself seemed to warp, bending under the sheer pressure of the blast as it hurled debris for miles. Boulders the size of houses were flung into the sky like weightless pebbles, and fragments of Sasori's monstrous puppet rained down like meteors, each piece blazing with the remnants of superheated plasma.
The epicenter of the explosion became a void, the sand scorched black and the air rippling with residual heat. The titanic form of Sasori's amalgamated puppet—the grotesque fusion of Sunagakure's remains—was obliterated. Metal beams twisted and groaned before being torn apart, wooden fragments splintered into ash, and stone crumbled into unrecognizable rubble. The debris cloud churned upward in a towering column, forming a dark pillar that stretched high into the atmosphere, blotting out the stars above.
The sound was deafening, a thunderous roar that seemed to reverberate through the bones of every living being within miles. It was not just the sound of destruction but the sound of a world being rewritten—a cacophony of obliteration so loud that it drowned out thought itself. The force shook the heavens and the earth alike, a reminder of the sheer power wielded by these titans.
As the light began to fade, the battlefield was left unrecognizable. The ground was flattened, a glassy expanse of fused sand stretching outward from the point of impact. In the eerie silence that followed, the oppressive weight of the devastation hung heavy in the air, a testament to the unparalleled power of the Sadōdama's released energy.
The fragments of Sasori's shattered monstrosity rained down like a storm of jagged steel, splintered wood, and stone shards, filling the air with chaos. Amid the maelstrom, Hinata's eyes locked onto a single figure—the puppet of Amaterasu. It tumbled gracefully through the debris, illuminated by the faint, otherworldly glow of Sasori's heart embedded in its chest.
For Hinata, time seemed to slow. The cacophony of destruction faded into a dull hum as her focus narrowed. She could see the puppet's hauntingly beautiful visage—the flawless tan complexion, the delicate features, and the crimson Gurengan eyes that eerily mirrored her own Byakugan, albeit infused with an unnatural, godly intensity. The silk kimono draped over the puppet's form rippled in the air as though caught in an invisible breeze, its details so immaculate that for a fleeting moment, it seemed alive.
Her heart tightened. This puppet wasn't just an imitation; it was devotion captured in wood and thread, an unsettling testament to Sasori's obsession with perfection. As she drew closer, she noticed strands of actual hair sewn into its head—black as a moonless night, glistening in the false light. This puppet had been infused with a fragment of the true Amaterasu, and now Hinata understood why it had wielded her power.
The Akejishi roared beneath her, its flaming chakra mane flaring with renewed intensity. Hinata leaned into its momentum, pouring her energy into the lion's form, transforming its aura into a fuel-like force that propelled her forward like a comet. Pieces of debris scattered before her, swept aside as though she were a battering ram breaking through a fortress wall. The puppet of Amaterasu grew larger in her vision until she collided with it, clutching its delicate, eerily humanlike form in her arms. The impact sent a jolt through her, a collision of conflicting energies.
In that instant, deja-vu struck her like a blow. The puppet was too real, its presence uncanny. Hinata felt as though she were holding the goddess herself, not just a hollow imitation. For a moment, she hesitated, overwhelmed by the weight of Sasori's craftsmanship and the realization of how deeply he had fallen in love with the visage of Amaterasu.
The storm of falling wreckage raged around her, but Hinata's resolve remained unshaken. Her body, however, bore the cost of her efforts. The toll of unleashing the Fifth Gate weighed heavily on her; muscles strained to their breaking point, her chakra pathways screaming in protest. Despite the pain coursing through her, she refused to falter. Her Nichiren Byakugan locked onto the distant figure of Mecha-Kurama, the puppet of Amaterasu now perfectly positioned between her and the mechanized fox. She had carried the puppet this far, her efforts bringing it to the brink of defeat, but her body no longer had the strength to deliver the final blow.
Even so, her placement was flawless. With precise intent, she had set the stage for another to act, her own limitations turned into an opportunity for her allies. The battle wasn't hers alone, and she had ensured the puppet was right where it needed to be for the fight to end.
"Sasuke-kun!" she shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos.
"Amenotejikara!"
In an instant, she felt the pull of space bending around her. The puppet of Amaterasu vanished from her grasp as Sasuke swapped places with her. She blinked and found herself sitting atop Mecha-Kurama's metallic head, the fox's thrusters humming beneath her. Her Nichiren Byakugan traced Sasuke's figure as he reappeared in her place, now clutching the puppet.
Sasuke's left arm surged with blue electricity, the Chidori igniting with the sound of a thousand chirping birds. The lightning painted his face in stark contrast—his Rinnegan cold and calculating, his Sharingan sharp with lethal intent. Time slowed once more as he raised the crackling blade of pure energy, the lightning dancing along the contours of his metallic arm.
With a decisive cry, Sasuke drove the Chidori forward, the blade piercing through the puppet's chest and striking Sasori's heart. The world held its breath. The surge of energy from the Chidori illuminated the battlefield in a flash of electric blue, casting long shadows across the desolate wasteland below.
For a fraction of a second, nothing moved. The heart embedded within the puppet pulsed violently, its glow flickering as if struggling to hold on. Then, with a final surge of energy, it shattered, releasing a shockwave of light and sound that rippled outward. The remnants of Sasori's puppetry—the false sun, the threads of energy, the entire colossus—collapsed in a cacophony of ruin.
Chapter End
AN: Hinata's fifth gate attack is the Shishidama（獅子玉）or Lion Bomb, the naming and technique itself inspired by the Bijudama, in English known as the Tailed-Beast Bomb.
The armored Kurama was kind of inspired by the anime Zoids New Century, and Sasori's giant form was inspired by the final form of the evil AI from the anime film Summer Wars.