Hinata: Byakurenden
End of the Gokage
The room crackled with tension as Obito, seated smugly as the Mizukage, exuded an air of confidence that bordered on mockery. His mismatched gaze returned to sweeping across the assembly, lingering on each Kage in turn, as if sizing them up. Finally, his lips curled into a smile, equal parts welcoming and menacing.
"I believe some introductions are in order," he said smoothly, his voice echoing in the silent chamber.
The words hung in the air like a challenge. Itachi, seated at the center, said nothing, but Hinata could see his fingers tighten ever so slightly against the edge of the table. His posture remained calm, his face unreadable, but the subtle shift in his demeanor was unmistakable—he was already calculating.
To Itachi's left, Raikage Ei was less restrained. His eyes narrowed, his jaw set like a vice, the veins in his temple bulging as he processed the sight of the Uchiha seated across from him. With a roar that seemed to shake the entire chamber, he slammed his massive hand onto the table.
"What's the meaning of this farce!?" he bellowed, his voice reverberating off the stone walls.
The other Kage remained silent, their focus fixed on Obito. Even Gaara, whose calm typically rivaled Itachi's, showed visible signs of tension, his fingers twitching slightly against the edge of his reclaimed hat. The Sharingan was proof enough, and while Gaara didn't know Obito's full history, it was clear that something was gravely amiss.
Mifune, standing as a neutral arbiter between the Kage, raised a hand in a gesture of restraint. "Raikage-dono, this is a place for discussion, not action," he said coolly, his measured tone contrasting sharply with Ei's fury.
Hinata, standing behind the fire curtain with Tayuya, felt a knot tighten in her stomach. Mifune's neutrality was absolute, or so it was said. Yet, as her Nichiren Byakugan had once shown her, the Land of Iron's climate had already been altered by Amaterasu's influence. Was his calm ignorance genuine, or was he already in league with the enemy? The thought sent a chill through her.
Obito waved off the Raikage's outburst with a disarming laugh. "It's quite alright," he said, his tone casual, almost friendly. "I understand how… unusual this must seem. An Uchiha as the Mizukage? It sounds like the setup for a bad joke, doesn't it?"
"Enough of your games, Mizukage-dono," Itachi said, his tone perfectly even. "If you have something to explain, do so."
Obito smiled wider, turning his attention to the Hokage. "Oh, but Itachi, isn't my presence explanation enough?" He leaned back in his chair, his tone dripping with mock sincerity. "You see, I've always been the true Yondaime Mizukage. Karatachi Yagura was merely a… puppet for my plans. All I've done now is step out from behind the curtain, much like you did when you became Hokage. Or am I wrong?"
Itachi's silence spoke volumes. Obito's comparison was a direct jab, a thinly veiled reminder of the Hokage's own rise to power, one steeped in shadows and manipulation. Itachi's Sharingan glinted faintly beneath his hat, but his composure didn't falter.
Unlike Itachi, Ei wasn't one to remain quiet. "You expect us to believe you've been pulling the strings of the Bloody Mist this entire time?" he growled, his fists clenching. "That you're responsible for the atrocities committed under Yagura's reign?"
"Oh, I don't expect you to believe it," Obito replied smoothly. "But that doesn't make it any less true. Unlike some people," he gestured vaguely toward Itachi, "I've always been honest about my methods. Yagura did what needed to be done, and Kirigakure is stronger for it."
The implication of Obito's claim was chilling. Under Yagura, the Bloody Mist had committed horrific acts, from the systematic eradication of the Bloodline Clans to the ruthless "survival of the fittest" culture that had defined the village's infamous academy. To boast of such a legacy was either the mark of a madman or a man with nothing to lose.
But it wasn't Obito's words that set Hinata's heart racing. It was Itachi's gaze, which had subtly shifted past Obito to focus on the Tsuchikage seated beside him. Hinata followed his line of sight, her breath catching as she finally registered the figure.
The Tsuchikage was not the wizened old man she had expected. Instead, a younger man sat in his place, his single visible blue eye narrowing as Itachi's attention fell upon him. His long, golden-blond hair was tied into a loose half-ponytail, the rest framing his angular face. A sneer tugged at his lips as he leaned forward slightly.
"I see you remember me, Itachi-san," the man said, his voice laced with venom. "Good. 'Cause I haven't forgotten you either, you bastard!"
Obito chuckled softly, gesturing toward the Tsuchikage with a theatrical flourish. "Ah, yes. Allow me to introduce the new Tsuchikage of Iwagakure—my esteemed 'senpai' from the Akatsuki. The one and only Deidara."
The room seemed to tilt as the weight of Obito's words sank in.
Hinata's stomach twisted as realization dawned. Two of the five great nations—Kirigakure and Iwagakure—were under Akatsuki control. The sheer scale of what they were up against hit her like a physical blow.
From her place behind the curtain, she could only grip the fabric tightly, her knuckles white. This was no longer just a diplomatic summit. This was the opening act of a war.
"And what was the price Iwagakure had to pay for this privilege of getting you as their Tsuchikage?" Gaara asked, his voice calm but cutting, his golden eyes locked on Deidara. The Tsuchikage hadn't stopped glaring at Itachi, a smoldering intensity radiating from him like heat from a forge. Gaara's words, however, were barbed, laden with the weight of Sunagakure's own fall to Sasori. His intent was clear: Had Deidara claimed Iwagakure in the same way?
Deidara scoffed, brushing Gaara's question aside with an exaggerated shrug. "Just the heart of a senile old man, yeah." His tone was almost flippant, as though his words were of no consequence. "Iwagakure responds to strength, and once they saw what my new art was capable of, they all recognized my talent. Talent made possible by Amaterasu-sama." His smirk widened, his single visible eye narrowing as it zeroed in on Itachi. "And you'll be next to find out, Itachi-san."
The venom in his words was unmistakable, bristling with unresolved hatred. Whatever grudge Deidara bore against Itachi was years in the making, a festering wound left untreated since his forced recruitment into the Akatsuki. Now, it seemed, that anger had only grown sharper, fueled further by Itachi's betrayal of the organization.
"Now, now. Don't be so hasty, Deidara-senpai." Obito's voice interjected smoothly, his tone light, almost mocking, as though Deidara's outburst were nothing more than the antics of a petulant child. He raised a hand in a calming gesture, but Deidara didn't so much as glance at him, his glare never leaving Itachi.
Obito continued unbothered, the smile on his lips returning with ease. "We're not here to fight today. This meeting is a rare opportunity, a chance for us all to come together. Can't you see it? Why cling to this fractured world when Amaterasu-sama offers us the chance to create a new one? A better one. Together, we could leave behind the suffering of this reality and shape something far greater."
His words hung in the air, silken and beguiling, but Gaara's response cut through them like a blade. "After what you did to my people, I refuse." The Kazekage's voice was low, steady as stone, but laced with fury beneath the surface. His words were not shouted, yet they carried more weight than any yell.
"I'm afraid I'll have to decline your offer," Itachi followed, his tone measured but resolute. Though his voice betrayed no anger, his refusal was as absolute as Gaara's. He had been studying Obito and Deidara since their arrival, his mind already racing to strategize against the enemy sitting across from him.
"No way in hell!" Ei's booming voice drowned out the other two, shaking the very walls of the chamber with its force. His defiance was primal, an unrestrained roar of rejection that left no room for interpretation.
For the first time, Obito's smile slipped, a faint sigh escaping him as his gaze shifted to the Raikage.
"Well, the Hokage and Kazekage aside, I was hoping you, Raikage, might hear my offer with a bit more…consideration." He leaned forward slightly, his tone almost conspiratorial as his Sharingan locked onto Ei. "You always struck me as a wise man. Can't you see the futility of resistance? We are the ones who hold the power in this room. Why make us your enemies when you could join us instead? Together, we could crush Konoha, and I could even ensure the Hyūga clan is turned over to your village."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop as Obito's words landed, the suggestion laced with venom and calculation. For a moment, silence reigned, the implications of his offer hanging heavy in the air.
Then Ei moved, both massive hands slamming onto the table as he rose to his full height, his muscles straining against the ceremonial robes he wore. His glare was fierce, molten fury radiating from his eyes.
"You think I'm so cheap that you can bribe me with the Byakugan?" he snarled, his voice a thunderous growl. "I wouldn't join your little cult even if the whole damn world was already in it! We Shinobi of Kumogakure bow our heads to no one. If there's power to be had, we take it ourselves. That's how the strong survive. Don't insult me with your threats and your pathetic bargains, Mizukage. You can keep them." He straightened further, pointing an accusing finger directly at Obito. "But if you want my village, you'll have to come take it for yourself. If you think you can, that is!"
Obito's smirk returned, sharp and amused, as though Ei's fury were nothing more than the antics of a child throwing a tantrum. His Sharingan gleamed as he inclined his head slightly, a predator acknowledging its prey.
"Very well," he said, his voice smooth, almost purring. "I suppose that's as close to a negotiation as I'm likely to get from the Raikage."
"And what do you think of this, as the one presiding over this meeting?" Gaara asked, his steady voice cutting through the rising tension as he turned his golden eyes toward Mifune. Until now, the Shogun had sat in composed silence, his hands resting atop the desk as the summit spiraled toward collapse. His calm demeanor made his next words all the more chilling.
"We Samurai have long stayed out of the conflicts between ninja," Mifune said, his voice as unyielding as the steel he wielded. Slowly, he placed a hand atop a scroll resting on the desk before him. "But before our very eyes, a force has emerged that can no longer be ignored—a power that transcends the divisions of our world. It is a power capable of uniting Samurai and Ninja under one cause. The strength of Amaterasu-sama."
As he finished speaking, Mifune channeled chakra into the scroll, and a burst of smoke erupted into the room. When it cleared, Mifune and five of the samurai standing behind him now wielded swords—legendary swords.
These were not mere weapons; these were the blades of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist. Once the tools of Kirigakure's most infamous warriors, the swords were now held by the Samurai of the Land of Iron. The shift was as symbolic as it was shocking. The balance of power had tilted.
Mifune stood at the forefront, holding Kiba, the twin blades imbued with lightning. The swords hummed faintly, their razor edges sparking as though eager to strike. Each blade tapered to a fine point, making them an extension of Mifune's will.
Behind him, the largest samurai, a towering man with thick, angular eyebrows and a massive frame, wielded Hiramekarei. The massive, bandaged sword rested heavily in his grasp, its size doing nothing to slow his movements. Known as the "Twinsword," Hiramekarei was a weapon of chakra manipulation, capable of molding its wielder's energy into devastating forms.
To the man's left stood the bald samurai with the dragon tattoo curling over his scarred head. He held Nuibari, a slender, needle-like blade. Its impossibly fine point gleamed wickedly under the room's dim light, a long wire trailing from its hilt, allowing it to pierce multiple targets at once and stitch them together in a grotesque display.
Three of the armored samurai behind them wielded the remaining swords. The first held Shibuki, a sword with an explosive scroll mounted along the back of its blade. Each swing could unleash a chain of detonations, the weapon practically vibrating with the volatile chakra it contained.
Another samurai hefted Kabutowari, a unique weapon consisting of an axe and hammer, connected by a sturdy chain. Known as the "Helmet Splitter," its devastating force could crush through even the strongest defenses.
Finally, the last of the swords was held by a broad-shouldered samurai who carried Kubikiribōchō, a massive, cleaver-like blade that had a distinct hole near its edge, perfectly suited for decapitation. The blade was designed to regenerate itself using the iron from the blood it spilled, an eerie testament to its history as a weapon of relentless slaughter.
Six swords stood displayed in the hands of the samurai, each one brimming with a dark legacy that could not be ignored. Of course, the seventh sword, Samehada, was absent—a fact that had not gone unnoticed. Two years ago, Hinata had struck down the living blade, severing it from Hoshigaki Kisame in battle. Yet even its absence was a haunting reminder of the destructive power these weapons once held.
Itachi's sharp eyes swept over the swords, his mind racing. He had never seen these blades in person, but Kisame had often regaled him with stories of their power. To see them now, in the hands of the Samurai, was a development as unexpected as it was ominous. The implications were clear: The Samurai were not neutral. They were aligned with Amaterasu, and they stood ready to enforce her will with weapons once wielded by Kirigakure's most infamous killers.
The room was tense, the air thick with a mix of dread and anticipation. Mifune's calm gaze swept across the Kage as if daring them to respond. Itachi's expression remained inscrutable, though his mind raced. If the Samurai were also their enemies, then this meeting was far more dangerous than any of them had anticipated.
Itachi barely had time to process the significance of the Samurai's display before a figure leapt from behind the curtain, landing beside Gaara with a forceful thud. He didn't need to guess who it was; the disguised Naruto, his cowl askew from the rush of movement, was already pointing an accusatory finger at the Samurai wielding Kubikiribōchō.
"Where the hell did you get that sword?" Naruto shouted, his voice reverberating through the chamber. Without ceremony, he dropped Hidan's head onto the table with a heavy thud, the muffled protests of the severed Akatsuki member drowned out by Naruto's anger.
The Samurai holding the massive cleaver-like blade turned his helmeted head toward Naruto, but said nothing, the stark silence only heightening the tension in the room. Every eye was on the young ninja, his posture radiating indignation and fury. Itachi's Sharingan flicked to the sword, instantly understanding why Naruto was reacting so strongly.
Kubikiribōchō. It wasn't just a weapon to Naruto; it was a symbol—a legacy tied to a moment that had defined him early in his shinobi career. During the first C-rank mission of his team, they had faced Momochi Zabuza, a member of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist, who had wielded that very blade. Though an enemy, Zabuza's final moments had taught Naruto one of the most important lessons of his life: the importance of bonds, loyalty, and honoring the sacrifices of those who walked a different path.
To Naruto, seeing that sword now, casually wielded by a Samurai in service to Amaterasu, was nothing short of sacrilege. It wasn't just a weapon—it was a piece of history, tied to a man whose principles and death had left a lasting impression on him. To see it paraded so callously, in a summit tainted by betrayal, was a desecration he couldn't abide.
As the tension in the room reached its breaking point, Hidan's muffled screams grew louder, his eyes bulging as he stared with manic intensity at the lone Samurai without a sword. Even Gaara seemed to sense the peculiarity in Hidan's reaction, though his better judgment warned against it. With a small motion, he manipulated the sand gag binding Hidan's mouth, undoing it.
The moment Hidan's voice was free, the room was filled with his unhinged roar, loud enough to make ears ring. "Kakuzu, you traitorous bastard!" he screamed, his crimson eyes locking onto the armored figure. "What the hell have you done with my body!?"
The room fell silent, every gaze snapping toward the accused Samurai. The man's posture stiffened for a moment, betraying a flicker of surprise. Then, with an air of exasperation, he relaxed his shoulders and began unclipping his helmet's straps.
"Finally, I can take this stupid thing off," the man muttered, his voice gravelly and low. As the horned helm was removed, it revealed the unmistakable face of Kakuzu—his dark brown hair, green irises, and red sclera standing out against the mask that still covered the lower half of his face.
Kakuzu turned his gaze toward Naruto, who was already bristling from the earlier mention of the Seven Swords. "I'm the one who retrieved it for them," Kakuzu said coolly, motioning toward Kubikiribōchō, the massive cleaver sword. "So how about you shut up about it already? If it was so precious, why did you leave it out for anyone to take, you idiot?"
Naruto spun, his finger now pointed at Kakuzu. "And who the hell are you supposed to be?!"
Itachi's mind raced, calculating their dwindling options. Their carefully orchestrated preparations were crumbling by the second. With the revelation of Kakuzu, it was painfully clear that the Land of Iron had aligned itself with Akatsukigakure. All pretense of diplomacy was lost. Kakuzu, one of Akatsuki's most formidable members, hadn't just been brought here for intimidation—his presence cemented the Land of Iron's immutable betrayal.
Obito chuckled lightly, folding his hands in front of him. "Gentlemen, meet Kakuzu—our ninja representative here in the Land of Iron. A true example of how far we've come in integrating ninja and samurai alike."
"Hah! You think you're a Samurai now, do ya?" Hidan's deranged laughter cut through the air like a serrated blade. "I'd say you don't know enough about honor to be a Samurai, but it seems the people of this nation don't really know what that is either!" His crimson eyes flicked to the Samurai wielding the legendary ninja blades, contempt dripping from his voice.
Mifune, calm as ever, stroked his goatee. "I would not expect a ninja to speak so lightly of honor," he replied, his tone measured and steady. "Perhaps to those who have not yet seen Amaterasu-sama's brilliance, our actions seem to break tradition. But the Samurai have always fought the darkness of the ninja while standing in the light. Is it not natural, then, to serve the goddess who provides that light?"
Hidan ignored him, his laughter turning sharper. "And what about you, Kakuzu? No matter how much I told you about the greatness of Lord Jashin, all you cared about was your damn bankbook! And now you're saying this bitch has turned you pious?!"
Kakuzu sneered beneath his mask. "I told you then, and I'll tell you again—your Lord Jashin was never profitable. Amaterasu-sama, however…" He let out a low chuckle, spreading his arms. "The money she's brought flowing in—I didn't even know such riches existed. I wouldn't care if she were a fraud. Her power, her image—they're marketable."
"There it is again!" Hidan cackled, his voice shrill with rage. "All about the money! You're still the same greedy bastard you've always been, huh?"
Kakuzu shrugged, his tone dismissive. "The money is the most important part. But I won't deny, the power is a nice bonus." He lifted one hand, flaring his chakra.
In an instant, chaos erupted.
The guards concealed behind the curtains sprang into action. Hinata and Tayuya landed in front of Itachi, their movements fluid and deliberate. Sasuke darted forward, his disguise flickering as he took up a defensive stance beside Naruto. Gaara's sand stirred around him as his guards revealed themselves—Darui and Shee stepping into position before the Raikage, their faces grim.
The tension in the room tightened further as four masked figures moved with inhuman precision, leaping into action. In perfect synchronicity, they landed in front of Obito and Deidara, forming a defensive line. Their presence alone sent a ripple of unease through the room, as if the air around them had thickened under the weight of their combined power. They had moved in unison, their white animal masks giving them a haunting, almost otherworldly presence. These were no ordinary guards. The markings on their masks and the air of raw, unyielding power radiating from them made it clear who—or what—they were meant to be.
The Jinchūriki.
Itachi's eyes darted across the group, cataloging them with precision. He had known these individuals in a different time, under vastly different circumstances. The Akatsuki's original mission had been to collect their Bijū. He'd seen dossiers, mission briefs, and even witnessed one of their captures. But this? Their presence here was a violation of everything logical.
At the far left stood Roshi, the Jinchūriki of the Four-Tails, Son Goku. His red hair was unmistakable, and he wore a long-sleeved magenta kimono shirt and matching pants, giving him an almost regal appearance. Yet, his stance was far from relaxed. He radiated restrained power, his movements deliberate and calculated.
Beside Roshi loomed Han, the Jinchūriki of the Five-Tails, Kokuo. A mountain of a man, Han's armored form towered over the others. His red plate armor gleamed under the room's light, the furnace on his back emitting faint wisps of steam, a constant reminder of his Bijū's power. Han had been a cornerstone of Iwagakure's defense—a walking juggernaut whose presence alone could deter conflict.
To Han's right was Utakata, the Jinchūriki of the Six-Tails, Saiken. Tall and lithe, with shoulder-length brown hair, Utakata was draped in a light blue kimono adorned with a small emblem of three bubbles on the back. It was a subtle but chilling touch, a symbol of the gentle yet deadly power that Saiken embodied. Utakata's calm demeanor belied his turbulent history; he had once defied Obito's rule, choosing exile over submission. And yet, here he stood, silent and compliant, as though all defiance had been stripped from him.
Finally, at the far right, stood the most impossible figure of them all: Karatachi Yagura, the Jinchūriki of the Three-Tails, Isobu. His diminutive stature made him appear almost out of place among the towering figures beside him, but his presence was no less imposing. His messy gray hair spiked unevenly, falling over the right side of his face. He wore mesh armor beneath a green poncho, and in his hands, he carried his signature hooked club, its green flower emblem a stark contrast to the brutal reality of its use. Yagura had been dead for years—a fact Itachi was certain of. Yet here he was, alive and masked, as though death had never claimed him.
Each of their white masks bore the symbol of the Bijū they carried, a cruel mockery of their identities. The masks were pristine, emotionless, and devoid of humanity. They stared forward, unreadable yet deeply unsettling.
Itachi's Sharingan flared subtly as he analyzed their chakra signatures. The oppressive weight of their power was real—tangible—but something was wrong. Yagura's very existence here was an impossibility, and Utakata's presence defied his defection. Itachi's mind raced to find an explanation. Edo Tensei? That had been his first thought, but these bodies weren't decayed or pallid. They moved with the fluidity of life, not the rigidity of the reanimated dead.
A darker possibility gnawed at his thoughts, and his gaze flicked briefly to Kakuzu. The man's presence here was no coincidence. If these Jinchūriki were not Edo Tensei, then the alternative was far more horrifying: these were creations—mockeries of life, vessels molded by unnatural means.
Kakuzu's voice rang out, cold and detached, as he lifted his hand. "Jinton: Atomic Dismantling Jutsu," he announced, his tone making it clear this was no act of mercy. In his palm, an opaque cube of chakra flickered to life, glowing faintly with the deadly promise of annihilation. The edges of the cube shimmered like a mirage, radiating an eerie light that cast sharp shadows across the room.
Kakuzu projected the cube forward with terrifying precision, trapping Hidan's head and a glowing orb of chakra within its confines. The sheer power radiating from the technique was suffocating. Even those who didn't understand its mechanics felt an instinctive dread. Hinata's heart sank as she observed the energy within the cube—its structure was unlike anything she'd ever seen, precise and absolute.
Hidan's muffled voice, laced with fury and desperation, cut through the tension. "Fuck you! So long as Lord Jashin is part of me, I'll never die—" His defiance was abruptly silenced. The glowing orb at the cube's center detonated, filling the opaque prison with an intense, blinding white vapor. The explosion was silent, yet it reverberated through the chamber, a chilling testament to the Kekkei Tōta's destructive power.
For a moment, nothing moved as the vapor swirled violently within the cube, obscuring its contents. Slowly, the mist dissipated, revealing nothing but empty space. Hidan's head, his sneering face, his eternal anger—all of it was gone. Not a single atom remained. Though the immortality granted by Jashin may have persisted in some metaphysical sense, it was rendered meaningless. His physical form, the vessel of his hatred and faith, was utterly erased from existence.
Kakuzu lowered his hand with disdain, his green eyes glowing faintly as he sneered. "Good riddance," he muttered, as if brushing away a trivial annoyance. Yet the room, heavy with silence, betrayed the gravity of what had just occurred. This wasn't simply the eradication of an enemy; it was a demonstration of power so overwhelming that it reshaped the balance of the summit.
It was now undeniable that Kakuzu had inherited the full scope of the Sandaime Tsuchikage's legacy. This was no imitation—this was the true Jinton, a technique that blurred the line between destruction and erasure. The power to dismantle matter at the atomic level, once wielded by one of the most powerful Kage in history, now belonged to a man whose loyalty lay only with profit and power.
The implications were horrifying. If Kakuzu had truly taken Ōnoki's heart, as Deidara had hinted, then this was no mere acquisition of a single ability. Kakuzu's ghastly jutsu allowed him to utilize the elemental affinities of his stolen hearts, and now, with a Kekkei Tōta in his arsenal, he was more formidable than ever.
Itachi's face betrayed nothing, but his stomach twisted. For all Hidan's insufferable nature, his unceremonious end had been callously engineered. Though Itachi wouldn't miss Hidan's vitriol, he couldn't shake the grim reality that he had been a pawn, brought here to meet this brutal, inevitable fate.
The silence hung heavy, broken only when Itachi straightened and spoke.
"It would appear that any chance for diplomacy has passed." His voice was calm, his words deliberate. He turned his attention to Obito, deliberately ignoring the space where Hidan's head had been moments before. Despite the overwhelming odds, he spoke with unshakable conviction, standing as a stark contrast to the chaotic scene.
Obito's smile didn't falter, not even for a moment. He lifted his hands in a mockery of benevolence. "Not if you all bow down and pledge yourselves to Amaterasu right now," he offered, his voice almost soothing, as though they were all children being scolded for disobedience. "The power in this room alone demonstrates what awaits those who choose to stand with her. Why continue to suffer in a fractured, dying world when we could build a new one together?"
His hands gestured toward Deidara, Kakuzu, the four Jinchūriki, and the armored samurai wielding the Mist's sacred swords. The sheer might of the force aligned with Obito was staggering, and he made sure they felt the weight of it. "I hold all the cards. The terms are simple: join us, or be swept away."
"I already told you," Ei snarled, his voice cutting through Obito's posturing like a thunderclap. "Those of Kumo bow to no one!" He slammed his fists against the table, rising to his full height, his piercing gaze fixed on Obito. The Raikage's defiance electrified the room. Beside him, Darui and Shee braced themselves, their tension palpable. Itachi allowed himself a slight nod toward Ei, silently acknowledging the strength of his conviction.
Obito sighed theatrically, his arms falling to his sides. "So be it," he said, his tone resigned but cold. "I've given you every opportunity to accept Amaterasu-sama's love. Since you refuse to love her, you are henceforth permitted to burn in the hellfire of the old world."
He turned his head slightly toward Deidara and gave a single, deliberate nod. In that instant, the room felt as though it had dropped ten degrees, the oppressive silence shattered by the crackle of chakra as Deidara's lips curled into a deadly grin wider than what seemed humanly possible—not just on his face but on the two mouths in his palms as well. Each mouth sneered, their tongues flicking hungrily as they prepared to unleash destruction. With an exaggerated flourish, he raised his hands, one angled toward Itachi's group and the other toward the Raikage's. At the same time, Kakuzu stood stoic but deadly, his chakra flaring as he formed an opaque cone with a glowing sphere of Dust Release inside, aimed squarely at Gaara's group.
"Finally! Art is an explosion!" Deidara proclaimed, the orbs of light bursting from his palms in a dazzling display.
Itachi's Sharingan spun furiously, analyzing the scene. He knew Deidara's original techniques well—sculpted clay fed to the mouths in his palms, imbued with chakra and detonated into spectacular explosions. But this…this was something else. There was no clay. Only pure, radiant energy. The change was both unsettling and telling. This was not the Deidara he once knew; this was Deidara blessed by Amaterasu, his art transformed into something devastatingly new.
As Deidara's orbs of light streaked toward them and Kakuzu unleashed his Dust Release, Itachi acted immediately. "Hinata!" he barked, snapping into motion. His arms shot out, grabbing Hinata and Tayuya by their shoulders as his Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan flared to life. The spinning tomoe within his eyes shifted and solidified, the intricate seven-pronged design radiating ominous power.
Tapping into the latent abilities of his Mangekyō, Itachi blurred into a burst of speed. The room warped around him as he crossed the distance to the Raikage's group in a fraction of a second. It was a technique reminiscent of his late friend Shisui, the fabled "Body Flicker." In this critical moment, Itachi honored Shisui's memory by embodying the very skill that had earned him his moniker.
Simultaneously, Sasuke activated the power of his Rinnegan. His mismatched eyes glinted dangerously as he seized Gaara and Naruto, pulling them into the fold with Amenotejikara, swapping their positions in the blink of an eye. In less than a heartbeat, the nine of them were clustered together, their defensive formation tight.
"Yata no Kagami!" Hinata knew what Itachi desired the moment he shouted her name. Her hands moved in an elegant flow, and her Nichiren Byakugan flared as the Yata Mirror materialized in front of the group.
The mirror's physical form was deceptively simple—a flawless, gleaming surface without a blemish. But its astral projection was an entirely different force. The translucent shield expanded before them, casting an ethereal glow that shimmered like water under moonlight. Its presence radiated an unshakable sense of protection, a testament to its divine origin.
Deidara's radiant orbs detonated upon impact with the mirror, their explosive power erupting in blinding flashes of light and energy. The shockwaves shook the ground, obliterating everything in their path—except the mirror. It held firm, unyielding against the enhanced might of Deidara's attacks.
Kakuzu's Dust Release followed a heartbeat later, the opaque cone slamming into the same barrier. The energy inside the cone swirled violently, threatening to disassemble all it touched at the atomic level. Yet even this catastrophic force met its match. The Yata Mirror absorbed the onslaught with an unwavering brilliance, a silent reminder of its divine craftsmanship.
The room trembled as the combined attacks wreaked havoc on the surrounding structure. Cracks spiderwebbed across the walls, and the ceiling began to groan under the strain. Debris rained down in a chaotic cascade of stone and dust, threatening to bury them all.
"Above!" Tayuya shouted, already reaching for her flute.
Gaara raised his hands, his sand responding instantly. From the Sadōdama hanging at his side, a dense wave of sand erupted, expanding outward in a protective canopy. The sand formed a massive dome overhead, shielding them from the collapsing ceiling. Each stone that struck the sand was absorbed, crumbling into harmless grains that fell harmlessly around them.
The dust hung thick in the air, a fragile veil masking the tension as Itachi gathered their forces. The once-pristine temple had crumbled into jagged ruins, the broken remnants of its structure now their battlefield. The faint echoes of shifting debris and distant footsteps served as a reminder: this brief moment of calm would not last.
Ei's massive frame radiated with electric chakra, arcs of lightning flickering around him like restless serpents. His golden vambraces gleamed in the dim light, a testament to his readiness for battle.
His deep voice broke the heavy silence, carrying an unyielding determination. "Hokage, you know these guys and their abilities, do you not?" His tone was sharp but measured, a grudging respect woven through the words. "I'll make an exception this time and follow your lead. As much as I hate to admit it, we're outnumbered here. Let's work together and overcome this… then we'll have that alliance!"
Itachi met Ei's fierce gaze with his own calm focus, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "I appreciate your quick understanding, Raikage." His voice was steady, carrying the authority of a leader who knew the weight of his decisions. "It seems Deidara hasn't let go of his grudge against me. I'll use that to our advantage and take him on." In the past, he might have suggested that the Raikage face him—Deidara's earth-based jutsu would have been vulnerable to Ei's Lightning Armor. But the situation had changed. Whatever boon Deidara had received from Amaterasu had altered his abilities, and the usual strategies wouldn't apply.
No, this was a task Itachi would have to handle himself.
"In that case, leave Obito to me," Sasuke said sharply, his stance resolute, the Rinnegan glinting faintly beneath his dark bangs. "Only a Sharingan can match another Sharingan." The conviction in his words was absolute, but Itachi hesitated for the briefest of moments. Obito wasn't just their strongest opponent—he was the orchestrator behind much of their suffering. Itachi's instinct was to protect Sasuke, to shield him from the danger Obito represented.
But Sasuke wasn't the boy he once was. Itachi had underestimated him before, and it had cost them and their clan dearly. He wouldn't make the same mistake again. With a subtle nod, he ceded the battle to his younger brother.
"Following that logic," Itachi said, turning his attention to Naruto and Gaara, "I need the two of you to handle Kakuzu. His Kekkei Tōta gives him a devastating edge, and Naruto's Shuton will be essential to countering its power." His tone carried the weight of urgency, his words measured and deliberate. "In addition, I suspect the four guards they brought with them are tied to Kakuzu's ability. They may be connected to his hearts. You'll need to defeat them all to ensure his final death."
Naruto's fists clenched at his sides, his icy blue eyes blazing with anger. "Fine by me," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. The memory of Kakuzu's earlier taunt about Zabuza's sword still burned in his mind, and he welcomed the chance to confront him. Naruto's transformation jutsu, which had hidden his true features, had already dissipated, leaving his determination on full display.
Gaara, standing tall and composed, let his sand swirl subtly around his feet, an ever-present shield and weapon. "If what you say about those guards is true," he said evenly, his yellow eyes narrowing, "then I have questions for Kakuzu as well. Their presence feels… wrong, but I couldn't place why. Until now."
Itachi's gaze shifted between the two Jinchūriki, reading their resolve. He could see their anger, their focus, and their understanding of the stakes. "I know I'm asking a lot of you," he said quietly. "But if anyone can handle him, it's you two."
Naruto nodded, his usual exuberance replaced by a rare seriousness. "Don't worry, Itachi. We've got this."
Gaara's response was a simple incline of his head, the weight of his silent agreement as steady as the desert sands he commanded. The two of them were already in sync, their partnership a balance of raw power and calm precision.
"And us?" Darui asked, his tone calm but tinged with curiosity. Beside him, Shee adjusted his gloves, his sharp eyes already scanning the battlefield for any sign of incoming threats. Itachi regarded them for a moment. Though he knew little about their abilities beyond reputation, the Raikage would not have brought them to the Gokage Summit if they weren't among his most trusted and capable shinobi.
"Everyone else, assist the White Lotus in taking down the Samurai," Itachi said, turning his gaze to Hinata. His words carried weight, his implicit trust in her evident as he nodded in her direction. "She's already proven that the swords of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist can be broken. If we can destroy the others, we'll cripple the Samurai's effectiveness. Afterward, you can move to assist Naruto and the Kazekage in eliminating Kakuzu."
The plan was clear, though not without risks. Striking at the Samurai and their legendary weapons was no small task. Yet Itachi's decision to entrust this mission to Hinata and her group was not made lightly. Hinata's mastery of the Nichiren Byakugan granted her the unparalleled ability to locate the natural tenketsu points within the swords. She had already killed Samehada, a feat once thought impossible, and that victory served as a beacon of hope for their strategy.
If one could be destroyed, what of the others?
"Hmph, don't think we'll leave all the work to a little girl, no matter how formidable she is!" Ei declared, his booming voice punctuated by the sharp crack of his fists slamming together. Golden vambraces glinted under the remains of his ceremonial cloak, newly revealed as he stepped forward with determination. "If those swords can be broken, my men and I will see it done." His confidence was palpable, though it carried a weight of urgency. The swords were more than mere weapons—they were symbols of Kirigakure's bloody past.
The Seven Swords of the Mist were infamous relics, their origins shrouded in mystery and myth. Legend spoke of the Kijin, a monstrous demon said to have forged the blades in an age long before recorded history. According to the stories, the Kijin wielded all seven swords at once, a feat no mortal could replicate. His power was said to be so immense that he severed an entire portion of the Land of Water from the mainland, creating the archipelago that now formed the Hidden Mist's territory. It was a tale told to frighten children, dismissed by most as mere folklore.
Such musings were a distraction, however. The truth of the Kijin, whether myth or reality, was irrelevant to the battle at hand. The swords before them were not invincible, and breaking them would tilt the odds in their favor. The collapse of the temple had given them a precious moment to regroup and form a plan, but the dust was settling, and their enemies were undoubtedly doing the same.
"If you can break the swords, then do it quickly," Itachi responded, his tone steady. "The faster we reduce their strength, the better chance we have of turning the tide."
Darui and Shee nodded in acknowledgment, their postures shifting subtly into readiness. Ei's lips curved into a confident smirk as his vambraces crackled faintly with his electric chakra. Hinata stepped forward, her Nichiren Byakugan already activated, scanning the battlefield for the telltale tenketsu points on the Samurai's blades.
"Everyone understand their roles?" Itachi asked, his sharp gaze swept over the gathered shinobi and allies, each standing ready, their faces a mix of grim determination and fiery resolve. There was no time left for hesitation or second-guessing.
A chorus of firm acknowledgments followed. Each voice, whether loud and confident like Naruto's or quiet and measured like Hinata's, carried the weight of conviction. They all understood the stakes. This wasn't just another battle. It was a pivotal moment that could alter the balance of the entire world.
With a single nod, Itachi gave the signal. In an instant, the group scattered, each moving swiftly and with purpose toward their assigned tasks. Gaara's sand swirled around him protectively as he led Naruto toward Kakuzu's looming threat. Hinata's Byakugan glinted as she turned toward the Samurai, Tayuya already moving alongside her. The Raikage's electric aura surged brighter as he and his guards prepared to confront the Seven Swordsmen-turned-Samurai. Itachi himself vanished into the fray, already setting his sights on Deidara.
For better or worse, everyone here was prepared to die fighting for their future. The weight of their collective resolve hung heavy in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the monumental odds they faced. If they emerged victorious, it would strike a devastating blow to Amaterasu's forces, a beacon of hope for the resistance. But if they failed, the last line of defense against her world domination would crumble, and there would be no one left to stop her.
The diplomacy section of the Gokage Summit had reached its fiery conclusion and the ruins of the Samurai temple, once a place of ancient diplomacy, now bore witness to the beginning of a war that would shape history.
Chapter End
AN: In the last chapter, I had a guest review ask about what happened to character's such as Terumi Mei. There won't really be an answer for that within the story, so I would like to just go ahead and answer it here with a bit of a blanket statement: If the character hasn't been declared as dead, then you can probably assume they are alive as I don't want to just kill characters unless I have a reason or need to. e.g. Ōnoki, whose heart was given to Kakuzu and his position taken by Deidara.
In the case of Mei, she never became the Fifth Mizukage because Obito simply took the place of Yagura after his death as the true Yondaime, using the backing of Amaterasu to essentially force his way into the position. Now my personal thought on this is that Mei and some other characters fled from Kiri after this hostile takeover and are currently in hiding, but alive. I really don't have plans for them though, so they won't be making their way into the story, as that would just increase the cast and characters I have to give time and effort to for not a whole lot of benefit.