Hinata: Byakurenden
Naruto vs Kakuzu
The once-mighty fortress of the samurai, nestled in the heart of the Sanrō valley, now lay in complete ruin. Jagged stone walls that had stood unbroken for centuries were reduced to crumbling debris, with great sections of the fortress buried under mountains of rubble. Smoke and ash hung heavily in the air, mingling with the chill of the Land of Iron's winter winds. Snow that had once blanketed the valley had turned to slush, stained black and red from the chaotic destruction. The echoes of Deidara's catastrophic explosion still seemed to linger in the air, an oppressive silence following the cacophony of collapse.
Near the epicenter of the devastation, a massive slab of stone shifted, groaning under its own weight. It tilted slightly before flipping over entirely, landing with a thunderous crash that sent smaller debris scattering in every direction. From beneath it emerged a single figure, tall and gaunt, his movements deliberate and unnervingly calm.
Kakuzu brushed off a streak of dust from his expensive samurai armor, the intricate plating glinting faintly in the muted light. His face, partially obscured by his signature mask, betrayed a flicker of irritation as his green eyes scanned the wreckage. He flexed his fingers, each joint connected by sinewy black threads that writhed faintly as if alive.
"Damn that idiot Deidara," Kakuzu muttered under his breath, his tone dripping with disdain. He nudged a piece of rubble with his boot, revealing charred remnants of the fortress's once-polished wooden beams. His voice carried a low growl as he added, "Doesn't he know how much this all costs? Reckless fool."
He straightened, crossing his arms as his gaze swept across the devastation. His annoyance was not just at Deidara's recklessness but also at the sheer expense of rebuilding alliances and infrastructure after such chaos. The Land of Iron had become a valuable ally, but gaining their trust had taken years of carefully managed resources and negotiations. This display of excessive destruction had undone much of that effort. Kakuzu's mind, always calculating, was already tallying the costs and favors that would need to be repaid to repair this blunder.
"You didn't exactly hold back yourself," Someone remarked, their tone calm yet edged with accusation.
Kakuzu's gaze snapped upward at the unexpected voice, narrowing as he spotted a figure standing atop a jagged mound of rubble. The Kazekage, arms crossed, his golden eyes cold and assessing, stared down at him with the unyielding presence of a monarch surveying a battlefield. His cloak billowed slightly in the faint wind, orbs of sand swirling subtly around him like loyal sentinels.
"On the contrary," Kakuzu countered smoothly, his irritation masked beneath a veneer of cool pragmatism. "My Jinton was perfectly controlled. The damage didn't extend outside the hall. A calculated strike." His fingers lingered on the cracked metal of his armor before he sighed, shaking his head. "Running a religious organization isn't exactly cheap, you know. I'm always careful with our property." He gestured broadly at the devastation surrounding them. "Of course, it's all in ruins now… so don't expect me to hold back the next shot."
"Thanks for the warning," Gaara replied, a rare smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. His tone carried an undercurrent of defiance as he added, "Then we'll be sure to do the same."
Almost as if summoned by Gaara's words, a low rumble shook the air. "Mokuton: Great Forest Emergence!" A voice rang out, and from beneath the rubble, roots burst forth in a wave of verdant fury. They grew rapidly, winding and coiling like living creatures, their immense girth splitting apart the shattered stone. The roots were unnaturally large, their diameters easily twice that of a grown man, and within moments, Kakuzu found himself encircled by a dense wall of writhing plant life.
The air grew thick with the smell of damp earth and freshly broken stone, the roots twisting higher and higher, blocking out the light. Kakuzu didn't move, his expression unreadable beneath his mask. His body remained unnervingly still, even as the encroaching wood threatened to engulf him.
And then came the heat.
With a deafening roar, pillars of molten lava erupted from the ground, splitting the roots apart in an instant. The blazing magma consumed the Mokuton entirely, sending plumes of steam and ash spiraling into the air. The sheer intensity of the heat warped the very air around them, shimmering waves rolling outward as the molten rivers carved through the rubble. From the heart of this inferno landed another figure, his feet stomping heavily onto the broken stone beside Kakuzu.
The figure wore a strange monkey-faced mask, its features twisted into a permanent, hollow sneer. Lava dripped from his fists, sizzling as it splashed against the icy remains of the battlefield. He was silent, but his presence radiated an unnatural weight, a mockery of life given purpose only by Kakuzu's will.
Another figure landed beside Gaara, pulling down a cowl to reveal a shock of spiky blond hair. A piercing pair of orange, cross-pupiled eyes glared defiantly at Kakuzu, the faint remnants of natural energy radiating from his body.
Kakuzu's eyes flickered briefly with interest. "You're the brat with the newly discovered Kekkei Tōta," he said, his voice a mixture of bemusement and curiosity. The Mokuton was rare enough, its existence tied to legends, but this boy's fusion of elemental abilities had been a topic of much speculation.
"And you're the bastard desecrating people's graves!" Naruto shot back, his voice brimming with righteous anger. His fists clenched tightly, the wood around him responding to his emotions, rising like a protective forest eager to act at his command.
"Not just their graves…" Gaara's tone grew colder as his focus shifted to Roshi. Though his face was hidden beneath the twisted mask, the broken resonance of the man's chakra told Gaara all he needed to know. This wasn't life. This was a hollow mockery, an atrocity.
Roshi remained silent, but the lava that dripped from his fists began to pool at his feet, carving glowing channels into the rubble. The ground beneath him cracked and splintered as the intense heat warped the earth itself. The once-rigid air turned suffocating, the molten streams hissing and bubbling with an almost insidious rhythm.
Kakuzu's tone turned icy. "This is ordinarily where I'd say something like 'money talks,' but I won't waste my breath this time." His arms remained folded, his posture relaxed despite the chaos around him. "Power is the only language brats like you understand."
Naruto and Gaara didn't respond, their attention snapping to the rising heat behind them. A sharp hiss split the air as Han, clad in crimson armor, erupted forward like a meteor crashing through the battlefield. Steam hissed from the furnace on his back, enveloping his form in a veil of superheated mist. Each of his steps left scorched craters in the ground, the sheer pressure of his charge sending cracks spidering out across the rubble.
Han swung at them, his large fist carving through the air with the intent to crush them both in a single mighty blow. Naruto and Gaara reacted instantly, leaping out of harm's way with the ease of seasoned warriors. Kakuzu narrowed his eyes, his gaze flicking to his adversaries midair. Both carried an aura of heightened awareness, their movements unnervingly in sync with the natural energy around them.
For all the good it would do them.
Gaara hadn't even landed when he was surrounded by glimmering bubbles. They seemed innocuous at first glance, their translucent surfaces shimmering in the dim light like fragile baubles. But the sinister energy radiating from them was anything but harmless. The bubbles pulsed ominously, and from behind a jagged boulder, Utakata stepped forward. His masked visage, shaped like a grotesque slug, tilted slightly as he snapped his fingers.
The bubbles detonated.
A chain of concussive explosions swallowed Gaara in an instant, the resulting shockwaves flattening nearby rubble and filling the air with a deafening roar. The explosions were precise yet devastating, the energy not just physical but imbued with a corrosive, chakra-consuming quality that lingered like a poison.
"Gaara!" Naruto shouted, his voice raw with alarm. He turned his attention to Kakuzu, his anger boiling over. Without hesitation, he launched himself forward, charging the ancient ninja with everything he had. "Mokuton: Partial Transformation!"
Naruto's right arm swelled grotesquely, the wood stretching and twisting into a massive battering ram. The transformation was raw and primal, the Mokuton chakra radiating from him in waves that distorted the air. It wasn't graceful, but it was powerful, and it smashed through the ground beneath him as he lunged forward.
Kakuzu didn't flinch, and for good reason.
Another figure landed between them in a blur, the weight of their arrival splitting the ground beneath them. Yagura, the former Yondaime Mizukage, stood firm, his mask shaped like a menacing turtle, its hollow eyes a stark contrast to the vibrant red chakra licking at the edges of his form. He twirled his staff with methodical precision, the motion summoning an ethereal mirror of water that hung suspended in the air.
As Naruto's battering ram-like arm closed in, Yagura hooked the edge of the mirror with his staff and pulled it backward. The surface rippled before erupting outward, a perfect replica of Naruto bursting from its depths. The two collided with a deafening crash, their wooden arms splintering apart as their overwhelming force canceled each other out. The sheer impact of their clash sent shockwaves rippling outward, toppling broken stone and sending a gust of wind tearing through the ruins.
Naruto skidded back, his expression fierce. The replica melted into water, pooling at Yagura's feet. The Mizukage's movements were unnervingly fluid, his silent presence amplified by the eerie aura of the turtle-shaped mask that obscured his features.
"These aren't just reanimated bodies," Gaara emerged from the smoke and ash left by Utakata's attack, his sand shielding him from most of the damage. His sharp gaze locked onto the other masked figures. Roshi's monkey mask seemed almost alive, its hollow eyes burning with malicious intent as lava dripped from his hands, carving fiery paths through the rubble. Han, with his monstrous hybrid mask of horse and dolphin, released another burst of scalding steam, the air around him shimmering with intense heat. Utakata's slug mask tilted as more bubbles began to coalesce in the air, their surfaces reflecting the carnage like distorted fragments of reality.
Each of these masked Jinchūriki moved with an unnerving blend of purpose and lifelessness. Their masks were pristine white, unblemished despite the devastation they unleashed. There was no flicker of humanity in their movements, no hesitation, no emotion—just the relentless execution of Kakuzu's will. The masks themselves seemed to pulse faintly, like they were alive, tethered to something far more sinister than mere puppetry.
"…This is something worse." Gaara muttered, his voice laced with disgust.
At his side, two unassuming orbs of sand hovered in the air. They had always been there, quietly accompanying him, their presence understated—little more than decoration to anyone watching. But now, with an almost imperceptible shift, they began to change. The orbs expanded ever so slightly, the movement subtle enough to go unnoticed by the untrained eye. Yet this small change rippled outward with devastating consequences.
The orbs were not ordinary sand constructs. These were Sadodama—Gaara's most refined creation, dense spheres of matter compressed to such extremes that they strained the very fabric of reality around them. Their mere existence caused slight distortions in light and sound, like faint ripples in the air. Inside these orbs, countless grains of sand had been fused and packed together so tightly that they teetered on the edge of instability. And now, as they expanded by the smallest fraction, the balance was intentionally disrupted.
The Sadodama responded to the change in pressure, expelling fragments of their hyper-compressed contents. The hunks of matter were no larger than pebbles, but as they erupted outward, they moved with the speed of light, streaking through the battlefield like shooting stars. The air itself seemed to scream as the fragments cut through it, leaving faint, glowing trails in their wake.
The results were immediate and catastrophic.
Kakuzu barely had time to react before one of the projectiles punched clean through his forehead, leaving a gaping hole that spilled no blood—only the writhing black threads that made up his body. Roshi's shoulder was obliterated, the force tearing it from his torso entirely. Han's chest collapsed inward as a fragment pierced the very place his heart should have been. Yagura staggered, a perfectly circular wound shattering his pelvis, while Utakata's right leg was severed at the kneecap, the dismembered limb wriggling like a cobra as it hit the ground.
Each shot was precise, calculated, and devastating. The battlefield fell silent for a breathless moment, the destruction hanging in the air like a terrible weight. The Sadodama hovered motionless again, their presence unnervingly serene after unleashing such power.
But Gaara's expression hardened.
Kakuzu didn't even flinch. The hole in his forehead was grotesque, but he reached up, almost casually, to push his mask back into place. Roshi's shoulder and Han's chest twitched as black threads writhed and began reassembling the damaged areas. Yagura stood as if unbothered by the injury to his pelvis, and Utakata balanced effortlessly on his remaining leg, his movements eerily precise despite the missing limb. None of them bled, none of them faltered.
"They don't even feel it," Gaara realized grimly. Such damage had been devastating enough to permanently injure nearly anyone else—yet these masked creatures shrugged it off as though nothing had happened. Not even Kakuzu looked concerned.
This wasn't just resilience. This was something far worse.
"You're a disturbing kid," Kakuzu said, his voice like gravel grinding against steel, a dark chuckle following his words. The black threads within his body wiggled and writhed, knitting his wounds back together with a grotesque ease. His masks—the grotesque, hollow visages of the stolen Jinchūriki—moved in tandem with him, their own injuries mending as threads burst forth from their bodies, binding them whole again.
He continued, his tone mocking. "But let me set the record straight. These…" he gestured toward the lifeless forms of Roshi, Han, Utakata, and Yagura, "…aren't corpses. They're just the hearts of my victims, wrapped up in a little extra packaging. Of course…" His grin widened beneath his mask. "…the effect is a bit different when a Bijū is involved instead of a human."
The words struck like a hammer, the weight of them visibly shaking both Naruto and Gaara.
"Did you just say—"
"…Bijū?" Naruto started, Gaara finished. The unspoken horror hung between them, sharp and suffocating. Their gazes flickered to the masked figures, each one brimming with an all-too-familiar chakra—dense, wild, and primal. No longer could they write it off as a twisted coincidence.
Kakuzu laughed, deep and guttural, throwing his head back as if the sight of their disbelief was a gift he had waited centuries to unwrap. "That's right!" he roared, his voice echoing through the ruined valley. "You dumb brats assumed I'd taken the hearts of their Jinchūriki. But why settle for leftovers when you can feast on the real thing?" His expression turned predatory, his grin stretching wider. "The power granted to me by Amaterasu-sama transcends anything you could comprehend. I can take the hearts of not just humans…" He gestured lazily toward the masked Bijū-turned-puppets, their chakra a raging storm around them. "…but monsters."
Gaara's breath caught, his sand trembling faintly around him, an instinctive response to the horror unfolding before him. He had suspected it before, but the confirmation was like a punch to the gut. The masked figures weren't merely imitations or tools imbued with their chakra—they were the actual hearts of the Tailed Beasts. The thought churned his stomach.
"So that's why…" His voice was tight, his mind racing. The masked forms had given off the same chakra resonance he did, the same strange mimicry of their previous hosts. The truth clicked into place: they weren't mimicking; they were the remnants of their original selves, reduced to these abominations.
Naruto, however, was less analytical. His eyes burned with fury, the orange irises glowing brighter as Kurama's chakra stirred violently within him. When he spoke, his voice was layered, Kurama's snarl blending with his own. "You bastard…" The growl carried a weight that reverberated through the air, sending loose rubble tumbling. His fists clenched so tightly that his nails bit into his palms, drawing blood. "You… desecrate them, tear out their hearts, and use them as your playthings…?"
Kakuzu's gaze bore into Naruto, his crimson eyes narrowing with disdain. "Oh, did I strike a nerve?" he taunted, his voice smooth yet brimming with venom. His movements were slow, deliberate, as though savoring the moment. He raised his right hand, fingers spreading wide, and the opaque cone began to coalesce in his palm. The air around him grew dense, vibrating with the gathering energy. The construct pulsed, a sinister blend of raw elemental might. Wind roared within its boundaries, fire hissed with lethal heat, and earth thrummed with unyielding strength. The glowing orb at its center swelled, feeding off the convergence of elements, its brilliance casting harsh shadows across Kakuzu's weathered features. "Try and get your revenge… if you think your Kekkei Tōta can match mine," he sneered.
Naruto remained rooted in place, his expression sharpening, eyes locked on Kakuzu's glowing cone. He didn't flinch, didn't waver. Instead, his wooden arm shifted, vines twisting and bark groaning as his chakra surged through it. The energy built steadily, like the patient force of a seed pushing through soil, until the tension reached its peak.
His voice rang out, clear and defiant: "Shuton: Tanesandan!"
From the stub of his arm, a spray of seeds erupted, each one radiating a faint green glow. The seeds spiraled outward, leaving trails of energy in their wake. Their forms were deceptively simple, but the forces swirling within them—wind, earth, and water—were in perfect harmony, a triumphant symphony of natural power. The seeds scattered like stars against the battlefield's gloom, filling the air with a vibrant energy that seemed to challenge the oppressive weight of Kakuzu's attack.
Kakuzu's sneer deepened. "Jinton: Atomic Dismantling!" He thrust his hand forward, unleashing his devastating attack, even as Naruto's seeds raced to meet it head-on.
The two jutsu collided mid-air, Kakuzu's beam meeting Naruto's scattershot in a cataclysmic impact that shook the heavens. For an instant, the world seemed to freeze as the opposing Kekkei Tōta met, their elemental energies grinding against one another, neither willing to give ground. The beam's searing intensity burned with chaotic destruction, while the seeds carried the quiet yet unyielding force of growth and life.
Then came the explosion.
It began as a silent bloom of light, swelling rapidly into a blinding sphere that consumed the immediate battlefield. The elements churned and twisted violently within it, wind roaring like a hurricane, fire blazing with furious intensity, earth cracking and shattering, and water vaporizing into scalding mist. The collision unleashed a torrent of raw power that erupted upward, a spiraling column of devastation climbing into the sky.
The ground beneath the blast cratered, vast fissures spreading outward like veins across the earth. The shattered remnants of the once-imposing fortress were obliterated, reduced to ash and dust that swirled chaotically in the shockwave. Snow and frost melted instantly, creating a swirling storm of steam that obscured the battlefield in a suffocating haze.
Above it all, the rising mushroom cloud loomed, an ominous tower of destruction that pierced the storm-laden sky. Lightning crackled through the column, the unstable energies of the colliding Kekkei Tōta still discharging long after the initial impact. The air itself vibrated with the lingering resonance of their clash, the ground trembling as though the earth was mourning the violence it had endured.
Naruto reacted first, slamming his hands together. From the disturbed earth sprang a thick wooden barrier, its roots spreading and coiling around him protectively. The barrier groaned and creaked under the onslaught of residual energy but held firm, the natural resilience of Mokuton defying the chaos.
Gaara's sand moved instinctively, swirling into a dense, impenetrable dome around him. The grains hummed with a faint golden glow, enhanced by his magnetic influence, creating a shield that weathered the relentless waves of heat and debris.
Kakuzu and the masked Jinchuriki retreated behind Yagura's mirror. The water-like construct expanded and shimmered, its surface rippling as it absorbed the residual force of the blast. Despite the protection, the sheer power of the collision forced Kakuzu to plant his feet, the impact rippling through his body and rattling even his unflinching confidence.
For a brief moment, there was nothing but the sounds of the wind howling through the shattered landscape and the crackling remnants of energy dancing in the air. Steam rose in heavy plumes, obscuring the sun and cloaking the battlefield in an eerie twilight. It was a moment of uneasy respite, a pause that carried the weight of an unfinished storm.
Amidst the wreckage, Gaara stepped out of the protective dome of sand that had shielded him, his golden eyes narrowing as he studied the battlefield. Despite the devastation, his focus remained razor-sharp, his mind dissecting Kakuzu's movements with clinical precision. His sand flowed around him like a living entity, the orbs of condensed Sadodama hovering at his side, faintly shimmering with latent power.
"Interesting…" he murmured, his voice carrying through the haze. He gestured toward Kakuzu and his masked constructs, noting the positions they had taken. "So there is some damage you can't recover from. Otherwise, there wouldn't have been a reason to hide." His gaze sharpened as his thoughts aligned. "The masks, huh?" he mused aloud.
Kakuzu's expression didn't change, but the flicker of tension in his body was telling. "Who knows?" he replied, his tone dismissive but lacking the usual sardonic edge. The faint tightening of his fingers gave away the truth—Gaara had struck a nerve. But Kakuzu didn't confirm or deny it, remaining maddeningly aloof as always.
Gaara smirked faintly, unbothered by the lack of a verbal confirmation. He didn't need it. The battlefield was enough to tell him all he needed to know. His plan had shifted, and now it was time to act. "Naruto! You know what to do, right?" he called out, his voice steady and unyielding.
Naruto's feral grin widened as he stepped into view, his orange eyes gleaming with anticipation. "I thought you'd never ask!" he replied, raising a hand in a deliberate signal. Around the battlefield, the rubble seemed to come alive.
Smoke erupted from every direction, obscuring the ruined terrain and turning the battlefield into an impenetrable gray fog. Kakuzu spun on his heel, his gaze darting to the sudden commotion. Shapes began to emerge from the haze, faint outlines moving amongst the debris.
"When did you…" Kakuzu's voice trailed off, his sharp eyes narrowing as he realized what he was seeing. The rubble was moving, but not on its own. Emerging from the shattered terrain was an army of Naruto's clones, their figures shifting from the stone-like guise of the Henge no Jutsu back to their original forms. They were everywhere—dozens, then hundreds, filling the battlefield in all directions.
The clones stampeded forward, their collective footsteps echoing like thunder across the broken earth. The wooden thunks of Mokuton constructs, the scraping hiss of magnetic iron sand, and the sharp chill of Hyoton ice shards accompanied their advance, adding an eerie symphony to the chaos.
"Don't sweat the small stuff!" Naruto and his clones shouted in unison, their overlapping voices disjointed yet defiant. "Now then, we'll be taking those masks for ourselves!"
Kakuzu's lips curled into a snarl as he flared his chakra, a visible aura of malevolent energy radiating outward. "Try it, if you can," he growled.
The four masked figures responded to his will, their movements fluid and precise despite their unnatural forms. The power of the stolen Bijū hearts began to bleed into the battlefield, an oppressive, suffocating presence that bore down on Naruto's clones and Gaara alike.
Kakuzu's masked Jinchūriki were not merely puppets—they were weapons, and he intended to wield them with all the force he could muster.
The air grew unbearably heavy as the four masked Jinchūriki began to shift, their forms twisting under the strain of the chakra flooding their bodies. A red aura, malevolent and alive, bubbled around them, the searing heat rolling off in oppressive waves. The chakra wasn't merely hot—it was scalding, consuming the flesh of the Jinchūriki hosts themselves. Skin crackled and peeled, leaving raw, blackened scabs that pulsed grotesquely with molten blood. The masks, pristine white against the warped, disfigured bodies, remained untouched, an eerie testament to the sinister power controlling them.
From their backs, tails sprouted like grotesque growths, each one rippling with malice. Yagura's form bore three tails, sleek but tipped with sharp barbs, while Roshi's molten chakra gave rise to four jagged, flaming appendages. Han, covered in blistering red steam, sprouted five tails that lashed the air like molten whips. Utakata was the most grotesque of all, his six tails slithering behind him like monstrous leeches, glistening with a viscous, acidic secretion. The tails thrashed wildly, leaving scars in the already ruined landscape, their mere touch enough to blacken stone and scorch the earth.
"This is…" Naruto's charge faltered for the briefest of moments, his clones freezing mid-stride as the oppressive energy weighed down on them. The red aura rolling off the transformed Jinchūriki was not merely oppressive—it was suffocating, like standing too close to the sun.
"A phase two transformation," Kurama's voice rumbled within Naruto's mind, uncharacteristically serious. "You and I haven't needed to do something like this because of your Kekkei Tōta, but this is what happens when ordinary Jinchūriki rely too much on the power of their Bijū. It's pure chaos—a grotesque distortion of their bodies. Be careful. They're not the same as what you just went up against."
Naruto grinned, pushing down his momentary hesitation. "Heh, you don't need to worry about me!" he shot back, his voice defiant as he led his clones forward. The charge resumed with renewed vigor, ignoring Kurama's half-hearted rebuttal about not actually being worried.
Roshi moved first, throwing his arm forward with deliberate malice. A massive glob of molten magma erupted from his hand, hurtling toward a cluster of charging clones. The molten wave crashed down with explosive force, consuming everything in its path. Stone liquefied, the rubble of the battlefield dissolving into a sea of glowing orange sludge. Naruto's wooden clones evaporated on contact, their forms reduced to cinders in the superheated wave.
Nearby, Utakata released a pinkish gas, the mist expanding outward in a shimmering cloud. As it washed over another group of clones, their forms disintegrated in an instant, the acidic vapor leaving nothing but faint scorch marks where they had stood. The air reeked of sulfur and death, and the acidic mist hissed as it ate into the surrounding rock.
High above, Gaara launched a salvo of near-light-speed Sadodama blasts. The orbs of condensed sand expanded just enough to fire streaks of blinding energy, each one cutting through the air like a lance of light. Yagura reacted, his three tails expanding outward. A green, chitinous shell formed around him, each tail reinforcing the barrier. The Sadodama blasts collided with the shield, their devastating power dissipating harmlessly against the hardened carapace.
Han took advantage of the momentary reprieve, leaping high into the air with terrifying speed. His red-armored form was a blur, steam hissing and pouring from the furnace on his back as he descended toward Gaara with an upraised fist. Gaara's sand surged up in defense, forming a thick wall between them. Han's blow tore through it effortlessly, the steam-enhanced strike obliterating the barrier and sending cracks rippling through the surrounding rubble.
Gaara's eyes widened as he jumped back, narrowly avoiding a follow-up punch that pulverized the ground he had just been standing on. The impact sent debris flying in all directions, shards of stone cutting through the air like shrapnel. Han didn't stop there. His body began to swell, the red chakra surrounding him dissipating as white flesh replaced his human form. Larger and larger he grew, his transformation reaching its grotesque peak as the form the Five-Tails emerged in full.
The giant horse-like figure towered over the battlefield, its dolphin-like face framed by four massive horns. The mask, grotesquely enlarged to fit its massive head, remained fixed, its hollow eyes a stark contrast to the raw power radiating from its form. But this was not the Five-Tails—not truly. It was an empty, controlled husk, its heart stolen and turned into a puppet for Kakuzu's malice.
Gaara gritted his teeth as he took a defensive stance, his sand swirling around him. His golden eyes narrowed in recognition. "Kokuo…" he murmured. With the memories of Shukaku and the Rikudo Sennin's wisdom within him, Gaara knew the names of all the Bijū. This wasn't just a monstrous transformation—it was a desecration of something sacred.
"…If that's how it's going to be" Gaara's voice hardened as his sand surged upward, gathering around his body. His form began to shift, expanding and reshaping until it towered over the battlefield in kind. He transformed into the enormous figure of Shukaku, the One-Tail. His form was a colossal tanuki made of densely packed sand, his large belly and jagged tail giving him a distinct, formidable silhouette.
The battlefield trembled as the two titanic figures faced each other, their massive forms eclipsing the remnants of the Sanrō fortress. Kokuo pawed at the ground, steam pouring from its nostrils, while Shukaku let out a low growl that rumbled like an avalanche.
Kokuo broke into a gallop, the sheer weight of his form pounding into the earth with a deafening rhythm. Each step sent violent tremors rippling outward, fissures snaking across the battlefield, shattering what little remained of the fortress's foundations. The shattered ground beneath him erupted with every impact, debris and dust flying into the air as if the very land was being torn apart under his might.
His four massive horns gleamed menacingly, catching the faint light in their cruel curves. Tilting his head down, he aimed the sharp points directly at Gaara, the intent to pierce through his defenses unmistakable. The earth screamed in protest as Kokuo barreled forward, a force of nature that couldn't be stopped.
Gaara's sand arm, colossal and formidable, rose to meet the charge. The grains moved with precision and ferocity, the densely packed structure ready to counter the beast's momentum. But before his strike could land, three tails snapped through the air like monstrous whips. Yagura's shield-like appendages lashed out with inhuman speed, coiling around Gaara's sand arm with the strength of iron chains. The force of their grip compressed the sand, locking his arm in place and halting his counter mid-swing.
"What—?!" Gaara's eyes widened, the realization of his trapped position dawning too late. Kokuo didn't falter, his charge unrelenting. With a deafening crash, the five-tails' horns drove into Gaara's shoulder, piercing through his sandy armor as if it were paper. The force of the impact sent a shockwave through the battlefield, throwing debris in every direction. Gaara's massive form was knocked clean off his feet, his body crashing into the base of one of the wolf-head mountains.
The sheer force of Gaara's impact fractured its base, sending massive chunks of rock tumbling down in a thunderous avalanche. Snow and stone cascaded in a violent torrent, swallowing everything in their path as the battlefield became an echoing cacophony of destruction.
And then came Isobu.
The ground quaked anew as the three-tailed turtle lumbered forward, his massive form casting a shadow over the rubble-strewn battlefield. His turquoise shell, studded with jagged ridges, gleamed faintly in the dim light, the weight of his steps causing the earth to sink beneath him. The three shrimp-like tails trailing behind him swayed ominously, each movement sending ripples through the air as if the tails themselves carried the power to reshape the land.
Behind the oppressive masks, Kokuo and Isobu's hollow gazes seemed to lock onto Gaara, who was still regaining his footing. The two Bijū moved in unison, a coordinated display of power as Kokuo stamped the ground, preparing to charge once more, and Isobu's tails began to curl ominously.
"Gaara!" A group of Naruto's clones broke formation, their icy forms crunching against the rubble as they rushed to their comrade's aid, urgency in their every step. The sight of Gaara pinned beneath Kokuo's oppressive charge drove them forward with reckless abandon.
But they didn't make it far.
"Hey now," Kakuzu's voice cut through the chaos, dark and mocking. "I'll be troubled if you think you can ignore me like that." He extended his hand, and a massive opaque cube of chakra materialized in the air, slamming down around the charging clones like a predator's trap. Within the cube, the glowing orb of energy spun ominously before detonating with a blinding flash. The explosion disintegrated the clones into nothingness, their wooden fragments and icy remnants reduced to minuscule particles scattered in the wind. The aftermath left an eerie silence, a chilling reminder of Kakuzu's merciless precision.
As if in response to Kakuzu's dominance, the final two masks began their grotesque transformations. The four-tailed monkey emerged first, his massive form a monstrous blend of raw power and unnatural animation. Red fur covered his bulging green muscles, his skin stretched tight and unnatural over the grotesque frame of his body. Two curved horns arched upward like a crown, glinting in the chaos like the malevolent insignia of a fallen king. His hollow mask—white and devoid of life—turned toward the battlefield, an empty echo of the once-proud beast that dwelled within him.
Then came the six-tailed slug. The battlefield seemed to sag under his weight as his gelatinous form oozed forward, an abomination of bluish-white slime that hissed and bubbled with acidic potency. Every inch of the ground he touched melted into a corrosive mire, the battlefield transforming into a toxic quagmire beneath him. His tails writhed like venomous serpents, lashing out and dragging lines of destruction in their wake. Above it all, the stark contrast of his pristine white mask loomed, unblemished and cold, an emblem of the desecration Kakuzu had wrought.
"Son Goku. Saiken," Kurama growled, his voice trembling with anger that felt like magma coursing through Naruto's veins. "What has this bastard done to you?" The raw fury in his words mirrored Naruto's own, their shared emotions boiling into an unrelenting disgust. It wasn't just the sight of their brothers' desecrated forms, their lives twisted into tools of Kakuzu's endless greed—it was the affront to their very existence.
Naruto clenched his fists as his clones fanned out, determination igniting their every motion. But before they could make any move, Kakuzu perched himself atop Saiken's undulating mass, his presence exuding a chilling authority. His hand extended, forming another cone-shaped construct glowing with malevolent energy. The air around it wavered, a dangerous ripple foretelling the devastation about to follow.
"Jinton: Atomic Dismantling!" Kakuzu bellowed, unleashing a beam of searing light that obliterated everything in its path. The beam carved through the battlefield with surgical precision, splitting boulders into dust and leaving molten craters in its wake. Naruto's clones were forced to scatter, diving for cover amidst the collapsing rubble, but the relentless power of the Kekkei Tōta left little room for respite. Kakuzu directed his attacks with eerie calm, his position almost untouchable as the six-tailed slug spread its toxic mire across the battlefield. Every step Saiken took dissolved the terrain, consuming all solid ground and transforming the space into a hostile death trap.
Gaara, still reeling from Kokuo's charge, struggled to rise, his massive sand form battered but not yet broken. Son Goku, his massive form casting an oppressive shadow, began to lumber toward him, each step shaking the battlefield like an earthquake. The twisted monkey moved with methodical intent, his molten red fur shimmering in the haze of destruction. His hollow mask, devoid of expression, locked onto Gaara, a lifeless executioner ready to deliver the final blow.
The situation was dire. Kakuzu's unrelenting assault and the grotesque power of the masked Biju had turned the battlefield into a chaotic nightmare. Naruto and Gaara were outnumbered and facing enemies whose power defied reason. Every second stretched with the weight of impending annihilation as Kakuzu's cold, calculating laughter echoed across the ruins. The battlefield itself seemed to suffocate under the immense power unleashed, and for a moment, it felt as though even hope was starting to waver.
"Nothing to it, huh?" The real Naruto crouched behind a jagged piece of rubble. His sharp, cross-shaped pupils scanned the chaos of the battlefield with calculated focus, a rare intensity settling over his usually exuberant features. He watched as his clones charged relentlessly, their icy, wooden, and magnetic forms clashing with the grotesque might of Kakuzu's masked abominations. He wasn't rushing in blindly—no, not this time. This was a fight that required precision. Strategy.
"If this guy wants to compare Kekkei Tōta so badly, then I'll make him regret it," Naruto murmured, his voice low but charged with resolve. His hand flexed, his wooden arm creaking slightly as he prepared to step into the fray.
"Wait." Kurama's voice rumbled from deep within the seal, low and urgent. "You need to go help that stupid Tanuki." There was an edge to his tone, not quite panic but close enough for Naruto to notice. "Shukaku only has one tail. He's the weakest of us, and expecting him to take on three Bijū at once? You might as well hand him a death sentence."
Naruto's brow furrowed as he glanced toward Gaara, now surrounded by the monstrous forms of Kokuo, Isobu, and Son Goku. The three colossal figures moved with the kind of overwhelming menace that made the ground tremble beneath them. It was a sight that would strike fear into anyone, but Naruto's lips curved into a faint grin, the weight of trust easing his hesitation.
"I'll be fine." Gaara's voice resonated through the telepathic link shared by the Jinchūriki, calm yet unyielding. Even now, pinned under the oppressive shadows of the masked Biju, there was no trace of fear in his tone. Only resolve. "I'm not so weak as to lose to a bunch of corpses… and I'm not the Shukaku you used to know. I'm the Sage of the Desert now." Slowly, deliberately, Gaara pushed himself upright, his massive sand-armored form rising from the rubble. Snow and debris cascaded from his shoulders as his sand began to swirl with renewed vigor.
"Yeah, I believe in you." Naruto's grin widened, the fire in his gaze igniting anew. He straightened, his own presence radiating a confidence that bordered on defiance. "That's why you can leave things over here to me. You've got this, Gaara."
Gaara nodded once, acknowledging Naruto's words. "Then don't hold back," he said, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken trust. Without another word, he turned his attention fully to the three approaching Bijū, his tail swishing once before settling like a pendulum ready to strike. As Gaara faced down the monstrous tide of three corrupted Bijū, Naruto's clones surged forward once again, their battle cries cutting through the roaring chaos. This wasn't just a fight anymore—it was a rallying cry, a declaration that no matter how bleak things looked, they weren't backing down.
Not here. Not ever.
Saiken's gelatinous form surged forward, its massive bulk spreading across the battlefield like a toxic tide. The slug's slimy flesh left a corrosive trail in its wake, dissolving everything it touched. Naruto's clones darted in and out of its range, but the acidic ooze was relentless. Wooden clones ignited and crumbled, the burning remnants reduced to ash. Magnetic clones, painstakingly drawn together from the land's natural iron deposits, melted into useless puddles. Even the ice clones began to fail, the heat and acidity overcoming their fragile forms.
But there was something peculiar about the ice. Naruto's sharp, nature-tuned senses picked up on it immediately—the freezing effect of the clones wasn't completely nullified. Where the clones dissolved, patches of sludge seemed to congeal and harden, the molecules slowing to a crawl. It wasn't much, but it was enough to spark an idea.
His real body was still crouched low behind the jagged outcrop, eyes narrowing as he observed the battlefield with laser focus. "Kurama," Naruto called inwardly, his voice steady despite the chaos. "We're switching it up this time. You got that chakra ready?"
The fox's growl resonated from deep within the seal, immediately picking up on Naruto's plan. "You're lucky I like this idea of yours, brat," Kurama replied, a surge of fiery chakra coursing through Naruto's veins a moment later. "Don't screw it up."
Naruto felt the warmth spread through him, his wooden arm creaking and expanding as he channeled Kurama's power. With precise movements, he began growing seeds along the arm's surface, their shapes twisting and pulsating as they absorbed the elemental energies of wind and water. "Hyoton: Tajuu Kage Bunshin no Jutsu!" Naruto shouted, hurling the seeds into the air with a powerful motion.
The seeds exploded into hundreds of icy projectiles, each one spiraling outward before transforming mid-flight. The shards lengthened, sharpened, and morphed into humanoid shapes—an army of ice-clad Naruto clones materialized, their crystalline forms glinting in the cold light of the battlefield. They hit the ground running, charging headlong at the massive form of Saiken, their movements sharp and coordinated.
"You really don't learn, do you?" Kakuzu sneered from atop Saiken's head, his voice dripping with disdain. With a flick of his wrist, he directed his own counterstrike. The cone of his Dust Release began to glow ominously in his palm. "Jinton: Atomic Dismantling!" A blinding beam of elemental power burst forth, cutting through the air with devastating precision.
Naruto was ready. "Shuton: Tanesandan!" He shouted, extending his arm. A scattershot of seed-like projectiles fired in response, their surfaces glowing with swirling elemental energy. Wind, earth, and water combined in chaotic harmony as the seeds met Kakuzu's beam in midair. The resulting explosion was monumental—a shockwave of raw power that ripped through the sky above the charging clones. The light and heat from the collision were blinding, but Naruto's gamble paid off. The clones remained unharmed, continuing their relentless assault.
As Naruto and Kakuzu unleashed the full force of their power, each move calculated and teetering on the edge of devastation, Gaara stood firm in the shadow of three colossal adversaries, their massive forms dwarfing even the largest remnants of the battlefield. Each step they took sent tremors rippling through the earth, their forms radiating an unnatural, menacing chakra. Snow melted and steam hissed in the air around them, the very landscape bending under their presence.
"Bring it on!" Gaara's voice rang out, his challenge carrying a sharp, almost reckless edge that contrasted with his usual stoic demeanor. This wasn't just Gaara speaking—Shukaku, the brash and chaotic side of his merged psyche, roared within him. The taunt wasn't just defiance; it was an invitation. The Bijū responded immediately.
Isobu, the Three-Tails, was the first to act. His massive form, a mix of turtle and crustacean, shifted as he tucked his limbs and head inside his spiked shell. His tails wrapped tightly around his body, turning him into a massive, rotating wheel of destruction. Snow and rubble sprayed outward in all directions as Isobu began to spin, building up tremendous speed. The sound of his movement was a deafening roar, like a landslide tearing through the valley. With no hesitation, Isobu launched himself at Gaara, carving a trench through the mountain's remains as he barreled forward.
Gaara had no intention of testing his sand body against the raw force of Isobu's momentum. He dove to the side, sand erupting from his limbs to propel him clear of the path. Isobu tore past him, the edges of his spiked shell scraping against the soft sand encasing Gaara's Shukaku form, particles flying from the contact. The impact wasn't direct, but the sheer force of the near-miss sent Gaara skidding across the battlefield.
Isobu slammed into the nearest wolf head, the sheer impact of his strike shattering what was left of the mountain's base. Rocks the size of houses exploded outward as Isobu's relentless rotation burrowed into the stone, the iconic wolf's visage cracking under the pressure. The entire peak groaned as fractures spread from its base to its crown. A heartbeat later, the first of the three heads toppled, collapsing with a thunderous roar that echoed through the valley.
As debris rained down, the mountain's fall triggered another cascading avalanche. Snow, rock, and ancient stone fortifications tumbled in an unstoppable wave, flooding the battlefield in chaos. The massive wolf head crashed into the ground, shattering into fragments, while the shockwave sent rubble flying in all directions. The other remaining Bijū stood unfazed amid the destruction, their eyes locked on Gaara.
Before Gaara could fully recover, Kokuo charged. The Five-Tails' massive frame, larger even than the rolling Isobu, galloped forward with terrifying speed. Steam hissed and billowed from the furnace-like opening on Kokuo's back, his powerful legs driving him forward with unstoppable momentum. His head lowered, aiming his massive, pointed horns directly at Gaara's chest. Each of his hooves struck the ground with the force of an earthquake, the trembling earth shattering into jagged cracks beneath him.
"That won't work twice!" Gaara roared, swinging his massive tail in a wide arc. The tail collided with Kokuo's head just as the beast closed the distance. The impact was monumental—an earsplitting crack echoed through the battlefield as Kokuo's charge was forcibly redirected. Gaara's sand scattered like debris under the force, but he maintained his footing. Kokuo, however, was thrown off balance, his redirected charge slamming into the still-rolling Isobu.
The two Bijū collided with a deafening crash, the force sending shockwaves through the ground. Isobu's spinning shell faltered, grinding to a halt as Kokuo's massive horns dug into his side. The impact launched both of them into the rubble-strewn remains of the first wolf head, crushing more of the mountain into dust. A third avalanche roared down, blanketing the battlefield in a torrent of stone and snow.
Gaara straightened, the sand of his Shukaku form shifting and rippling around him like armor. He glanced at the destruction, the toppling mountain now reduced to a smoldering ruin. The devastation was overwhelming, but he didn't falter. He couldn't afford to. His sharp gaze snapped to Son Goku, who now approached with molten fury burning in his eyes.
Son Goku reared back, a guttural roar ripping from the massive beast's throat. The air shimmered with the unbearable heat of his presence, the red glow of molten chakra pooling in his fists. Gaara's body tensed as the four-tailed beast unleashed its fury, throwing forth a tidal wave of searing lava. The molten cascade surged forward like a living force, devouring everything in its path with ruthless intensity. Rocks shattered and crumbled, their surfaces melting into slag, as the wave rolled forward, leaving a molten river in its wake.
The ground trembled beneath Gaara as he rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the molten cascade of lava that crashed down onto the spot he had been standing. The heat radiating from the wave was suffocating, the intense glow of the molten rock casting flickering shadows across the already ruined battlefield. The lava hissed and bubbled, devouring everything in its path and leaving behind a glowing, charred scar on the landscape.
Gaara spun mid-dive, his massive sand body sliding across the fractured terrain with surprising agility. As he rolled, his chest swelled, inhaling deeply until it seemed as though he would burst. He slammed his sand stomach against the ground, expelling a concentrated burst of compressed air. The Wind Bullet tore through the thick, oppressive air, colliding with the wall of lava and fanning its flames into a brilliant inferno. The redirected heat surged forward, licking at Son Goku's massive frame, forcing the Bijū to pause momentarily.
The reprieve was fleeting, and Gaara knew it. Son Goku's magma would only relent for so long before the assault resumed. Still, the maneuver had bought him a few precious moments, and in this battle, every second counted. He couldn't afford to waste the opportunity.
His mind raced as he assessed the situation. Breaking the masks—that was the key. Those eerie, pristine white faces that seemed impervious to his attacks were undoubtedly the source of the Bijū's unnatural existence. They weren't alive in the traditional sense. Kakuzu had corrupted them, reduced them to puppets of flesh and chakra bound by his twisted jutsu. If the masks were destroyed, the corrupted forms would unravel, freeing the Bijū's fragmented spirits from this grotesque enslavement.
But even as he devised his plan, Gaara's resolve was tempered with the bitter knowledge of what would follow. Destroying the masks wouldn't truly kill the Bijū. They were immortal entities, chakra given form, fragments of a greater whole. The masks' destruction would scatter their essence, forcing them into a cycle of rebirth that could take decades or centuries to complete. Still, it was the only way to free them from this nightmare.
Among the three Bijū before him—Isobu, Son Goku, and Kokuo—the dolphin-horse stood out as the most vulnerable. Unlike the others, Kokuo lacked ranged capabilities. With the mask obscuring its face, the corrupted beast couldn't unleash the devastating Bijūdama, the ultimate attack of the Tailed Beasts. Instead, Kokuo relied entirely on brute force, charging with its horns to crush anything in its path.
It was a weakness Gaara could exploit, but the risk was monumental. To break the mask, he would have to put himself in harm's way, drawing Kokuo in close and timing his strike with perfect precision. One misstep, and the Bijū's ramming attack could end him—or at least reduce his sand form to scattered grains.
Gaara's gaze hardened as he focused on Kokuo, the beast already pawing at the ground in preparation for another charge. Beside it, Isobu began to spin, retreating into its shell and morphing into a massive, spiked wheel of destruction. The two Bijū moved in tandem, their immense forms shaking the earth with each step and roll. There was no room for hesitation. Gaara's sand-form Shukaku braced itself as the battlefield trembled under the sheer power of Kokuo's gallop.
Each step the dolphin-horse took shattered the ground beneath him, creating deep craters that radiated outward like ripples in a pond. Shards of rock and earth were hurled into the air with every thunderous hoofbeat, the momentum of the Bijū's charge carrying the weight of an unstoppable force. Beside him, Isobu, encased in his rolling wheel of impenetrable shell and spiked tails, bulldozed through the terrain, grinding it to dust in his wake.
Instead of retreating, Gaara advanced, his sand-massive fist swinging upward in a calculated arc. It collided with Kokuo's mask in a deafening impact, the sound echoing like a cannon blast across the battlefield. Sand scattered in a wide arc from the force of the blow, but as the dust settled, the mask remained intact, its pristine white surface unscathed.
"What—" Gaara's realization came too late. In his focus on Kokuo, he'd misjudged Isobu's timing. The three-tailed beast barreled into him at full force, the jagged edges of his shell scraping deep grooves into Shukaku's sand body as Gaara was sent flying backward. The collision's shockwave toppled nearby debris, adding to the chaos as Gaara tumbled into a pile of jagged rubble.
He hit the ground face first in the shattered earth, Gaara's vision blurred as he fought to regain his footing. He managed to plant his hands beneath him, but before he could rise, a devastating weight slammed into his back. Son Goku's massive fists crashed down with the force of a landslide, driving Gaara deeper into the already fractured ground. Cracks splintered outward, splitting the terrain into jagged segments as if the earth itself recoiled from the punishment.
Gaara tried to resist, his sand instinctively forming to cushion some of the blows, but the pressure was relentless. Isobu, now uncoiled, lashed at him with his tails, each strike landing with a wet, bone-crushing smack. Kokuo followed, rearing up and stomping down with his hooves, each impact sending shockwaves that rattled Gaara's sand armor, pieces of it crumbling away under the sustained assault.
The combined strength of the three Bijū left Gaara no room to counterattack, let alone breathe. The surrounding terrain was utterly annihilated, reduced to a shifting sea of debris and pulverized stone. Each blow sent tremors rippling across the battlefield, creating avalanches that poured down the shattered remnants of the wolf-head mountain.
For every effort Gaara made to rise, another strike forced him back down. Son Goku's fists slammed into his sand body, cracking it further, while Isobu's tails whipped through, tearing chunks of his protective barrier away. Kokuo's crushing hooves threatened to shatter the very foundation of his form. All the while, the air around them was filled with the roars and screeches of the corrupted Bijū, an unrelenting cacophony of chaos.
Gaara's sand form began to falter, chunks of it falling away with each brutal strike. He struggled to maintain his composure, the sheer weight of the three-on-one assault threatening to overwhelm him entirely. It felt as if the very earth was against him, the terrain reshaped and shattered by the unrelenting fury of these once-mighty beasts.
If only he had more sand. In the desert, he would be unbeatable, his command over the shifting dunes rendering any opposition irrelevant. But here, in the cold, rocky expanse of the Land of Iron, there just wasn't enough for him to harness. Why did the Gokage Summit have to be in a land so utterly devoid of his element? Why here of all places?
The thought clawed at him, even as Son Goku's twin fists bore down again, slamming into his sandy form with relentless force. Each blow felt heavier, more brutal, the molten strength of the four-tails breaking apart his sand armor with terrifying ease. Gaara's massive Shukaku form trembled, chunks of sand falling away as Kokuo roared, pressing the assault. Another strike landed, a thunderous impact that drove Gaara back down. He trembled, his enormous frame barely holding together. If this kept up, he wouldn't last—Shukaku's form was crumbling faster than he could repair it.
Gaara gritted his teeth, desperation seeping into his resolve. There had to be something he could use. His mind raced, enhanced senses scanning the battlefield. The cold, metallic glint of the surrounding rubble caught his attention—a spark of an idea igniting in his mind. Wait… that was it! If his sand wasn't strong enough to endure, then he just needed something else. Something stronger. Something this land had in abundance.
Planting his massive claws into the earth, he dug deep into the rubble of the mountain. With a surge of magnetic chakra, he expanded his control, sending his will coursing through the rock and soil. Beneath the battlefield, buried within the Land of Iron's frozen crust, lay veins of iron ore, ancient and untouched. The ground trembled as he reached for it, yanking the reserves to the surface in a violent eruption. Jagged shards of raw iron tore free from the earth, glowing faintly from the residual heat of the battle.
The metal merged with his sand, darkening Shukaku's form from its usual desert brown to a gleaming dark gray. The shift was immediate—the iron sand coated his crumbling body, fusing into a reinforced armor. His massive frame steadied, the once-unstable sand now fortified into an impenetrable shell. The transformation was breathtaking, the iron sand rippling across his form like liquid steel, reshaping Shukaku into a titan of unyielding might.
Son Goku's molten fists came crashing down again, but this time, they met the reinforced armor of Gaara's new form. The impact rang out like a gong, the reverberation echoing across the battlefield. Son Goku's hands split open, molten chakra spilling out as the force of his own blow tore through his body. Black tendrils wriggled where his wrists had been, a grotesque reminder of Kakuzu's vile control.
Gaara rose, his iron-clad body unyielding. He swung his massive tail, sending Son Goku sprawling with a heavy blow that reverberated through the ground. Isobu attempted to intervene, rolling toward him at breakneck speed, but Gaara's iron fist shot out, meeting the turtle's shell with a resounding crack. The impact sent Isobu tumbling, flipping onto his back with his legs flailing helplessly.
"Now, let's try this again!" Gaara growled, his voice deep and resonant, bolstered by Shukaku's wild glee. He turned on Kokuo, grabbing the dolphin-horse by one of its massive horns. The Bijū bucked and thrashed, but Gaara's grip was unrelenting. Winding up, he delivered an earth-shaking uppercut with his iron fist. The punch connected directly with the mask covering Kokuo's face.
A deafening shatter echoed across the battlefield as the mask broke apart, fracturing into dozens of pieces. Kokuo's body crumbled into a tangled mass of black tendrils, devoid of life. The iron-clad Shukaku form towered over the lifeless remains, watching the mound of black tendrils that had once been his brother.
But then, from the ruins of the dolphin-horse's form, something rose. A faint, glowing silhouette took shape, the spirit of Kokuo manifesting in the air. His gentle, knowing eyes met Gaara's, a look of gratitude passing between them. Though no words were spoken, the message was clear: Thank you. Kokuo's spirit lingered for a moment, his form shimmering softly, before dispersing into the wind, free at last.
Gaara stood still, his breath heavy but steady, as the battlefield quieted for the briefest of moments. There was no time to dwell—two masks remained. But for now, he allowed himself one fleeting moment of triumph, his resolve burning brighter than ever.
Isobu was floundering on his back, exactly like a helpless turtle stranded on uneven ground, his massive form writhing as his three shrimp-like tails swayed erratically in the air. The sight would have been almost comical if it weren't for the sheer destructive power he had displayed just moments earlier.
Gaara whirled toward him, his iron-clad Shukaku form looming over the vulnerable beast. The iron sand rippled around his arms, coiling like liquid steel as he raised a massive iron fist. The air seemed to grow heavier as he brought it down with devastating force, the impact ringing out like a thunderclap. The blow landed on Isobu's turquoise shell, the force reverberating through the battlefield and sending cracks spiderwebbing across its hardened surface.
But Isobu wasn't ready to surrender. With a desperate instinct, he withdrew his head and limbs back into his shell, his protective fortress of hardened chakra closing off any openings. Gaara narrowed his eyes. It won't help you, he thought, his massive frame steadying as he wound up for another strike.
His next punch landed with even greater force, the iron fist slamming into the weakened shell like a wrecking ball. The sound of shattering rock echoed through the air as the shell fractured completely, large chunks breaking away to reveal Isobu's mask beneath. The once-imposing Bijū was now exposed, his most critical vulnerability laid bare.
Gaara didn't hesitate. With the precision and power that only the Sage of the Desert could command, he brought his iron fist down once more. The mask covering Isobu's face shattered under the blow, the fragments scattering like shards of glass across the battlefield.
As the mask fell away, Isobu's massive body began to unravel. The once-mighty turtle dissolved into a tangled mess of black tendrils, the eerie strings flopping lifelessly onto the rubble. The transformation was grotesque, the remnants of Kakuzu's vile jutsu breaking down without the anchor of the mask.
Then, amidst the fading chaos, a faint glow began to rise from the remains. Gaara watched as Isobu's spirit took shape, a shimmering silhouette that hovered above the battlefield. The single visible eye of the Bijū met Gaara's, and in that fleeting moment, there was no malice, only gratitude. The spirit of Isobu, once bound by Kakuzu's corruption, conveyed its silent thanks before fading into the ether, dispersing into the wind like a wisp of light.
Gaara stood motionless, his massive iron form casting a long shadow over the battlefield. He let out a steadying breath, his gaze hardening as he prepared to face the final mask.
Before he could turn toward the four-tailed Son Goku, a titanic wave of molten magma surged forward, consuming the battlefield in a river of fiery destruction. The lava poured over him in a relentless cascade, crashing against his iron-armor Shukaku form with a thunderous roar. The searing heat radiated outward, warping the very air as it twisted and shimmered under the intense temperatures. Snow that had blanketed the terrain evaporated in an instant, the hiss of steam rising like a vengeful chorus.
The iron-infused sand that made up his protective form began to glow an angry red, the immense heat softening its once-impervious structure. Streams of molten metal dripped from his arms and shoulders, pooling at his feet and hardening into misshapen lumps amidst the magma flow. The ground beneath him sizzled and cracked, unable to withstand the unrelenting heat, sending rivulets of lava crawling into every crevice.
Through the haze, Son Goku loomed like a fiery titan, his molten gaze locked on Gaara, who stood his ground amidst the inferno, the iron sand clinging stubbornly to its melting form.
Gaara clenched his massive fists, the heat eating away at his armor but not his resolve. The wave of magma was not just an attack; it was a force of nature itself, attempting to reduce him to nothing. But the Sage of the Desert did not waver. Even as his armor softened and dripped away in glowing rivulets, his golden eyes burned brighter, defying the molten beast before him.
Son Goku's own massive fist came crashing through the haze, slamming into Gaara's cheek with enough force to send the iron-clad Shukaku stumbling backward. Gaara staggered but managed to regain his balance, swinging his iron fist in retaliation. Son Goku twisted his head to the side with surprising agility for his massive frame, dodging the blow effortlessly before countering with a punishing strike to Gaara's gut. The impact echoed like a thunderclap, forcing Gaara to take another step back.
Gaara swung again, his iron fist glinting in the molten glow of the battlefield, but the heat had begun to take its toll. The edges of his armor were warped, bending and dripping like molten metal, the once-solid iron losing its integrity. His punch landed on Son Goku's mask with a loud crack, but it wasn't enough to shatter it. The mask remained intact, its jagged edges a haunting reminder of the relentless power Gaara faced.
The fight devolved into a brutal slugfest, the Iron Shukaku and Son Goku trading blow after blow amidst the steaming chaos. Each punch from Son Goku sent shockwaves through the ground, the molten pool around them splashing and surging with every impact. Gaara's armor continued to weaken, the superheated air turning his once-formidable defense into a pliable, crumbling shell. Meanwhile, Son Goku seemed to thrive in the inferno as he beat his chest between strikes, the sound like a war drum echoing across the battlefield.
Gaara's fists began to slow, each swing weaker than the last. The molten environment was sapping his strength, and Son Goku's blows were landing harder and faster, leaving deep dents and fissures in Gaara's armor. He couldn't win this way—not in a contest of pure physical power. The realization struck him like one of Son Goku's punches: brute strength alone wouldn't end this.
The desert wasn't just sand, Gaara thought, his mind racing even as his body staggered under another hit. It was also the air… the heat… the pressure.
The battlefield was no longer just Son Goku's domain. It was a giant furnace, and Gaara would turn it to his advantage.
Planting his feet in the molten ground, Gaara inhaled deeply, drawing in the thick, steaming air around him. His massive stomach began to expand, the iron sand shifting and creaking as he absorbed the superheated vapor. Son Goku's massive fist swung down again, connecting with Gaara's bloated belly. The impact caused the iron surface to ripple and compress, but Gaara didn't falter. Instead, he exhaled—violently.
The compressed air shot out in a single, devastating burst, a concentrated bullet of superheated wind and chakra. The projectile tore through the haze, striking Son Goku's mask with pinpoint precision. The impact was immediate and catastrophic: the mask shattered into countless fragments, the red glow of Son Goku's chakra flickering before fading entirely.
The four-tailed monkey froze, his massive body beginning to unravel. The iron sand that had dented and warped under his blows now stood tall as Son Goku's form collapsed into a tangle of lifeless black wires, the grotesque remains of Kakuzu's vile manipulation.
As the wires dissolved into the rubble, a soft, golden glow rose from the wreckage. Gaara's eyes narrowed, his breath heavy, as the spirit of Son Goku emerged. The fiery essence of the four-tails hovered in the air, its eyes calm and filled with gratitude. Son Goku tilted his head, a playful smirk crossing his spectral face before his chakra dispersed, carried away by the hot winds of the battlefield.
Gaara stood silently, his iron armor dripping and warped but still standing strong. He allowed himself a moment to exhale, the faint traces of steam hissing off his form. "It's done," he muttered, his voice steady.
He staggered forward, his iron-laden Shukaku form shedding clumps of softened metal as he emerged from the edge of the molten battlefield. The air was still thick with steam, but the cool bite of the snow at his feet was a welcome relief. Collapsing onto a patch of untouched snow, the icy chill seeped into his overheated body. Gaara's chest rose and fell in heavy breaths, steam rising from his skin as his iron sand dissipated into harmless particles around him. He rested a moment, eyes half-lidded, before managing a faint smirk.
"…I'll leave the rest to you," he said, his voice hoarse but resolute. His gaze shifted toward the distant chaos where the other half of the battle raged. "Beat his ass, Naruto."
That battlefield was a stark contrast to Gaara's brief reprieve. Naruto was a blur of motion amidst a storm of destruction. Another volley of seeds erupted from his wooden arm, sprouting into spiraling bursts of chakra that intercepted Kakuzu's relentless Dust Release. The collision of the two powers sent shockwaves rippling across the ruined landscape, the ground fracturing beneath the strain.
"Don't worry, Gaara!" Naruto shouted back, his voice carrying over the cacophony of battle. His grin was fierce, defiant. "You can count on me!"
Naruto's clones, forged from ice and imbued with elemental chakra, surged forward in waves. Each step left icy prints on the charred ground, their forms glinting in the fractured light of the battlefield. They advanced toward Saiken, the six-tailed slug, whose toxic ooze bubbled and hissed with every move. The massive creature loomed like a grotesque colossus, with Kakuzu perched atop its head, commanding the battlefield with cold precision.
"That tanuki actually did it!?" Kurama's deep voice echoed within Naruto's mind, carrying a mixture of disbelief and begrudging respect. The great fox seldom admitted surprise, let alone admiration for his fellow Bijū, but this was different. Shukaku, the supposed weakest among them, had not only held his ground but shattered the masks of beasts with more tails, leaving Kurama momentarily speechless.
"Impossible," Kakuzu hissed, his voice sharp with denial as his gaze darted to the dissipating forms of Kokuo, Isobu, and Son Goku. The remnants of the Bijū lingered in the air, their chakra dispersing like fading echoes. This was not how the battle was supposed to go. For over a century, Kakuzu had prided himself on being an unstoppable force, and now the unthinkable had happened—one of his trump cards, his own immortal creations, had fallen. He clenched his fists, his mind racing to rationalize it. The power of four Bijū, combined with his own mastery of a Kekkei Tōta—this should have been absolute. And yet…
"You got a little too complacent!" Naruto's voice rang out across the battlefield, cutting through Kakuzu's spiraling thoughts. His tone was buoyant, almost teasing, but his grin was sharp as a kunai. It was the grin of someone who had always believed in himself, even when no one else did. "You think you can just steamroll through everything because you've got all this power? News flash: It ain't that easy!"
Kakuzu's disbelief shifted into disdain, his face contorting with contempt. "Don't make me laugh!" he spat, aiming the glowing cone of Dust Release at Naruto, locking onto the original amidst the wreckage of his clones. "You, of all people, have no right to lecture me. A Kekkei Tōta from birth, the vessel of the Kyūbi handed to you on a silver platter—your entire life has been nothing but privilege! You've never known struggle! You've been spoon-fed power since the day you were born!"
Naruto's grin faltered for just a moment. His orange eyes darkened, a flash of memory crossing his face. Kakuzu's words brought him back to his childhood—the scornful glares, the whispers behind his back, the way villagers had avoided him as if he were a curse. He remembered the hunger, the loneliness, the nights spent staring at an empty table, wondering why no one seemed to care if he existed.
"You think it's been easy?" Naruto's voice dropped, quiet but fierce. "Yeah, I've got a Kekkei Tōta now, and I've got Kurama. But you don't know a damn thing about what it took to get here." His fists tightened, the seeds in his hand sprouting faint tendrils of chakra as his resolve grew. "I spent my whole life fighting to prove I wasn't worthless. And you know what? I didn't do it alone. Iruka-sensei… I thought he was the first to see me for who I was. But even before him, there was someone else."
A flicker of warmth crossed Naruto's expression as he thought of Hinata. He remembered the quiet, shy girl who had believed in him when no one else would. She had always believed in him, even when he didn't believe in himself. And now, she had become someone he looked up to, someone who inspired him to keep pushing forward. "She told me I made her strong," he murmured, more to himself than to Kakuzu. "But the truth is, she's the reason I've come this far. I won't let her down. Not now. Not ever."
The moment passed, and Naruto's grin returned, sharper than before, radiating confidence and defiance. "You think I'm just some spoiled genius? Let me show you just how wrong you are!"
Kakuzu snarled, his hand tightening around the construct of his Dust Release, the glowing orb within flaring brighter. "Fine, then. Show me," he said coldly, the disdain in his voice palpable. "Let's see if your so-called hard work can stand against true power." The battlefield stilled for a moment, tension crackling like static in the charged air. Naruto stood firm, his seeds glowing with raw elemental energy, ready to prove Kakuzu wrong.
Naruto slammed a single seed into the ground, channeling his Mokuton chakra into it. The earth beneath him quaked and splintered as roots burst forth, twisting and expanding with unnatural speed. Within moments, a massive tree had erupted skyward, carrying Naruto high above the battlefield. The trunk was gnarled and ancient-looking despite its sudden creation, its bark deep and weathered like it had existed for centuries. Red blossoms, as vivid as the color of his mother's hair, unfurled in bursts of radiant petals, crowning the top of the tree like a beacon of life amidst the chaos. Naruto stood atop one of the largest petals, his figure framed by the fiery canopy of blossoms.
"You think having the high ground is going to help you?" Kakuzu sneered from below, his palm raised steadily. Floating just before his hand, the opaque cone of Dust Release began to pulse with deadly light. Within it, the orb of concentrated wind, earth, and fire chakra swirled ominously, a miniature storm of destruction. "This won't change anything, brat."
Naruto's grin was sharp, defiant. "No, I think this is going to be what helps!" He pulled another seed from his arm, holding it aloft as chakra flowed into it. The seed glowed faintly before expanding, sprouting swirling blades of energy. The shriek of wind began to emanate from the growing sphere, intensifying as it took on the form of a spinning shuriken with a blazing center.
The shuriken-shaped orb pulsed wildly in his hand, each of its elemental components threatening to spiral out of control. Naruto's concentration was absolute, his face illuminated by the flickering energy. Kakuzu's brow furrowed, unable to comprehend how he was managing such an intricate combination of elemental and shape transformation—a feat that should have required multiple shinobi working in tandem.
What Kakuzu didn't realize was that Naruto wasn't alone. The faint shadow of Asura's form materialized behind him, its ethereal presence radiating an ancient, otherworldly power. The spectral figure mirrored Naruto's movements, its massive arms extending forward to steady the volatile orb spinning in his hands. At the same time, Kurama's chakra surged outward like a tidal wave, its fiery red energy coiling around Naruto and the orb, reinforcing its fragile balance. Naruto's own resolve, forged in countless battles and trials, acted as the final anchor, holding the chaos together with unyielding determination. For an instant, it appeared as though Naruto had six arms instead of two—each one embodying a piece of his unrelenting will.
Kakuzu narrowed his eyes, the oppressive aura around Naruto causing the air to feel heavy. "An illusion of grandeur," he spat, raising his arm. In his palm, the opaque cone of Dust Release formed once again, but this time, its intensity was magnified. The orb at its center pulsed like a dying star, its swirling energy radiating raw destruction. "You're betting everything on that unstable toy? Let me show you the futility of your efforts!"
Naruto didn't respond, his focus entirely on his jutsu. The chakra blades surrounding the orb spun faster and faster, emitting a high-pitched whine that sounded like the scream of a thousand tempests. Sparks of energy flickered off its surface, colliding with the branches of the massive tree beneath him and setting them ablaze. The red flower at the tree's peak, a vivid echo of his mother's fiery hair, swayed in the violent winds generated by the jutsu's sheer force. Naruto locked eyes with Kakuzu, his expression a mixture of defiance and certainty.
"Jinton: Atomic Dismantling!" Kakuzu roared, thrusting his arm forward. The orb within the cone ignited, erupting into a searing beam of chakra. The beam tore through the battlefield with the force of a cataclysm, incinerating everything in its path.
Naruto's voice rang out, steady and unwavering: "Shuton: Rasenshuriken!" He hurled the spinning shuriken with all his strength, the blades whirling so fast they blurred into a single disc of blinding light. It tore through the air like a comet, its razor edges leaving streaks of energy in its wake. The Rasenshuriken collided with Kakuzu's Dust Release mid-flight, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.
The impact created a cataclysmic explosion of light and sound, as if two celestial bodies had collided. The battlefield was consumed in a radiant glow, the two techniques fighting for dominance in a swirling vortex of energy. Shockwaves rippled outward, tearing up the ground and sending debris flying in all directions. The violent winds whipped across the battlefield, scattering what little remained of the surrounding terrain. Naruto gritted his teeth, bracing himself atop the towering tree as it swayed under the force of the collision.
The brilliance of the explosion consumed the battlefield, a blinding miniature sun that refused to fade. The air vibrated with residual energy, an oppressive force that pressed down on everything. Kakuzu squinted, trying to peer through the searing light, his instincts prickling with unease.
Something wasn't right.
Despite the overwhelming brilliance, a shape began to emerge in his peripheral vision. It was faint at first, a flickering shadow cutting through the radiance. Kakuzu's brow furrowed as he strained to make it out, his focus narrowing.
From beneath the dazzling explosion, another Rasenshuriken emerged—spinning with terrifying precision, its razor-sharp edges glowing like a second sun. The bladed construct sliced through the air with a high-pitched whine, its energy rippling outward in waves that distorted the very fabric of the battlefield. For a fleeting moment, it seemed as though the Rasenshuriken was born of the light itself, an unstoppable force of nature cloaked in brilliance.
Kakuzu's eyes widened as his mind caught up to what he was seeing. His jaw clenched, and his thoughts raced. "A second… hidden in the shadow of the first?" he growled, the weight of Naruto's cunning settling heavily upon him. Each step of the plan unfolded in his mind, the realization dawning too late.
He snapped his head toward Saiken, the six-tailed slug he had positioned as his final line of defense. "Move, you useless beast—dodge it!" he barked, his voice edged with desperation.
But Saiken didn't move. The colossal slug remained utterly still, its slimy body encased in an unnatural, crystalline frost. Steam hissed and rose faintly from its frozen form, the once-viscous ooze that comprised its body now hardened and brittle. Kakuzu's gaze darted across the scene, his sharp mind piecing it together with growing dread.
The ice clones. The damn ice clones.
When they had been destroyed earlier, their remnants had been absorbed into Saiken's acidic slime. At first, the clones had melted like the others, but Kakuzu had overlooked the subtle transformation taking place beneath the surface. Each fragment of ice had cooled the corrosive sludge at the molecular level, spreading through the Bijū's massive body like a chain reaction. What had once been a sea of volatile acid had solidified into an impenetrable icy prison. Saiken, his supposedly indomitable shield, was now nothing more than a motionless, frozen husk.
The Rasenshuriken streaked toward Saiken, its radiant blades spinning faster, carving through the frozen air as though drawn by destiny itself. The ground quaked as the projectile closed the distance, its unyielding energy warping the air around it. Kakuzu leapt upward at the last possible moment, his body propelled by sheer desperation, but it was already too late. The Rasenshuriken struck its mark with terrifying accuracy, embedding itself deep into Saiken's immobile form.
The six-tailed slug let out a haunting, distorted wail, a sound that resonated through the battlefield like a mournful dirge. The sound wasn't just one of pain—it carried something deeper. It was a cry of liberation, a farewell from a creature that had been enslaved in death. For a fleeting moment, the frozen form of Saiken glowed faintly, as though its very essence was being unshackled. The Rasenshuriken detonated in a blinding burst of light, the energy tearing through Saiken's mask and annihilating the tendrils of black threads that comprised its twisted, unnatural form.
As the light faded, Saiken's body crumbled into a mass of lifeless black wires, collapsing into the rubble below. Rising from the remains, faint and shimmering, was the translucent spirit of the six-tailed slug. Free of its torment, and its gaze lingered on Naruto for a moment. Gratitude flickered in its ghostly eyes before it dissolved into a warm, glowing mist, scattering into the wind.
Naruto watched from atop his perch, his expression a mix of exhaustion and resolve. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. There was no time to dwell on Saiken's final moment—Kakuzu was still alive. But even now, there was a sense of weight to the victory, the knowledge that one more soul had been released from Kakuzu's twisted grasp.
Still suspended in midair, Kakuzu glared down at the battlefield, his snarl deepening as his gaze shifted from the lifeless wires that had once been Saiken to the boy who had destroyed him. His frustration boiled over, his composure shattering under the weight of his fury. "You insolent brat…!" he roared, the battlefield trembling as his voice reverberated across the ruins.
"It's not over yet, y'know!" Naruto shouted from atop the massive red flower, his voice cutting through the chaos. His grin was sharp, almost taunting, as the light of the explosion began to fade—revealing a horrifying truth Kakuzu had failed to see.
Emerging from the radiant brilliance of the detonation, the first Rasenshuriken spun toward Kakuzu, its razor-sharp edges glowing with unstoppable intensity. It hadn't been destroyed by the Dust Release; it had carved straight through it. The explosion wasn't the result of mutual destruction—it was the Rasenshuriken cutting through the Dust Release's core and continuing its relentless path toward its target.
Kakuzu's eyes widened in dawning horror, the sheer ingenuity of the strategy struck him like a physical blow. The Rasenshuriken had hidden in plain sight, veiled by the very destruction it had caused. It was an attack Kakuzu never would have anticipated—a testament to Naruto's cunning.
As the shuriken closed the distance, Kakuzu's mind reeled. He had no time to form another Dust Release, no defenses left to call upon. He hovered midair, vulnerable and exposed. All he could do was watch, his fate barreling toward him with the force of a hurricane.
The Rasenshuriken struck with the precision of a scalpel and the force of a natural disaster. Its spinning blades tore into Kakuzu's body, slicing through the threads that held him together. Each revolution of the shuriken severed more of his lifelines, unraveling the power he had hoarded. The chakra storm within the shuriken surged outward, consuming him in a blinding vortex of destruction.
Suspended in the chaos, Kakuzu's thoughts flickered through his long life. Decades spent chasing wealth and power, his belief that strength was the only currency that mattered—none of it had prepared him for this. This was no ordinary victory; this was something born of sheer determination, ingenuity, and an indomitable will to protect.
Kakuzu's snarl softened into a grimace, then a rueful smirk. His fury gave way to a cold acknowledgment of his defeat. "Not bad, brat," Kakuzu admitted aloud, his voice faint, swallowed by the roaring storm. It wasn't admiration, but it carried a begrudging respect. For the first time in over a century, someone had truly outmatched him.
The Rasenshuriken detonated, the explosion consuming Kakuzu entirely. It wasn't merely an eruption of energy—it was an annihilation. The spinning chakra blades unraveled him completely, reducing him to ash and scattering the remnants of his being across the battlefield.
When the light faded, there was no trace of Kakuzu. Only the scorched earth where he had hovered moments ago remained—a silent testament to the sheer power that had undone him. As the battlefield grew silent once more, Kakuzu's absence left a palpable void—a reminder that even the mightiest could fall to those who refused to back down.
Chapter End
AN: So the Jinchūriki were just Kakuzu's hearts, but the reason they took on the shape of actual people instead of just blobs of wires was because it was actually the Bijū hearts he used, and those reacted differently than normal human hearts. Of course, none of this is based in Canon, it was just the upgrade I gave him by way of Amaterasu's gifts, allowing him to eat monsters and even use a Kekkei Tōta by taking Ōnoki's hearts as his fifth one.
Of course, he still got taken out the same way as he did in Canon, this time to a much more upgraded Rasenshuriken, with a callback to the hiding in the shadow of the first one which is the moment I officially got hooked on this series in the first place.
I debated about putting Gaara's name in the title as well, but it felt a little too crowded with that, so I left it out, but this was really both of them taking him on and I think Gaara's part even took up a majority of the word-count.