Naruto : Chronicles of the Uchiha

by Hellfire Uchiha

What if Naruto, our knuckle-headed hero, was reborn as an Uchiha in the village's early years? Watch him disrupt the timeline and forge a unique bond of lovve with a certain slug princess, shaking up canon as we know it! ""An Adopted Fic From NxSE"" "Naruto : Uchiha Chronicles"

19. Chapter 19

Author's Note – Important Warning

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This chapter contains graphic violence, explicit gore, and mature themes, including elements of "the word that should not be named". If you are sensitive to such content, I strongly advise you to proceed with caution or skip this chapter altogether.

I understand that not everyone is comfortable with these darker themes, but they are included to enhance the depth of the story, its characters, and the cruel reality of the Shinobi world. War is not kind, and neither are those who wage it.

That being said, reader discretion is strongly advised. If you choose to continue, do so with the understanding that this chapter does not hold back.

You have been warned.

Happy Reading (or not, depending on how well you handle dark themes).

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Uchiha 19

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Kage Battle Royale! Part 2

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Naruto: Chronicles of the Uchiha

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With Tobirama and Sasuke…

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The Raikage stood on guard, his sharp gaze fixed on the Nidaime Hokage, whose display of power and sheer strength unfolded before his very eyes. To those watching from the outside, he appeared cautious, perhaps even impressed by the formidable presence before him.

But beneath the surface, within the recesses of his mind, the reality was far different.

He was seething.

Anger burned through him like a wildfire, consuming his thoughts with unrelenting ferocity.

Furious.

Livid.

Contempt radiated from every fiber of his being, swelling within his chest, clawing at the edges of his restraint.

Words alone could never capture the depth of his rage, the visceral loathing that took root in his heart at that very moment.

His plan had been flawless. He had shattered the iron will of The Tobirama Senju, a man hailed as unbreakable. The sight of him, kneeling and vulnerable—on his knees, for Kami's sake!—had been the perfect moment to strike the final blow.

And yet, his so-called elite Jonin, his prized warriors, had failed him. Miserably.

They couldn't even execute a simple assassination without fumbling it into chaos. It was almost laughable. No—scratch that—it would have been a laughingstock if anyone from the other villages had heard this absurd tale.

His jaw tightened, teeth grinding audibly like a chainsaw as he fixed his furious glare on the man he despised with every ounce of his being.

Tobirama Senju.

The name alone ignited a volcanic rage deep within his chest. It was a name that echoed his failures, his hatred, his unyielding obsession. The mere sound of it made his blood roar in his veins, his vision almost clouding with the heat of his fury.

As his eyelids briefly slid shut in a slow, deliberate blink, he hadn't anticipated what would happen next—a moment he couldn't have foreseen.

Just as his eyelids flickered open in the briefest fraction of a second, his field of vision registered only one figure.

Sarutobi Sasuke.

Where the hell…?

"Grr…"

The low, guttural sound of wet gurgling reached his sharp ears, dragging his attention behind Sasuke. His eyes widened as the sight came into focus.

Tobirama stood there, his expression cold and calculating, towering over the fallen Jonin. The kunai once gripped firmly in his hand slipped free, leaving streaks of crimson as it withdrew from the back of their skulls.

The victims' eyes rolled lifelessly back into their sockets, their bodies collapsing forward as if the strings animating these warriors had been ruthlessly severed.

Two soft thuds punctuated the stillness as the corpses hit the ground, lifeless in the damp grass. Beneath them, a small pool of dark crimson began to spread, soaking the earth with its ominous stain.

For a moment, an eerie silence gripped the clearing. The world seemed to pause as if holding its breath in shock at the speed and precision of what had just transpired.

No one moved.

No one spoke.

They didn't fully comprehend it yet. Seconds—maybe a minute at most—was all it had taken.

One minute.

That was all it had taken for two of Cloud's finest to meet their end, their lives extinguished by the cold, calculating hands of the Senju clan head.

Tobirama Senju moved with precision, his actions devoid of hesitation or emotion, even in the midst of a crowd of enemy Junin—and with the Raikage himself bearing witness.

Finally, realization began to dawn in the Raikage's eyes. His gaze widened in a mixture of shock and fury, the slow burn of comprehension igniting into unclouded rage. A nerve bulged prominently on his temple as his clenched jaw gave way to a thunderous bark.

"Take him down!"

Those three words, laced with raw anger, were the spark that set the entire clearing ablaze. Chaos erupted as the command reverberated through the air, and in an instant, all hell broke loose.

Tobirama reacted instantly, flashing back to the marker he had placed on Sasuke. In a blur, he stood beside his companion once again, his speed unparalleled. Only Sasuke had noticed the subtle motion when Tobirama had marked the tree while they were entering the clearing.

Even in a moment of distraction, Tobirama's instincts had not faltered. Reflexes honed by years of life-or-death combat had turned the act of placing markers into second nature—a survival mechanism he performed without thought.

This time, however, was different. This time, he had placed the Hiraishin seal almost unconsciously, as if in a trance. It was a lapse unlike anything he had experienced before, and he silently vowed it would be the last.

Allowing himself to lose focus on an enemy's intent—while surrounded, no less—was unacceptable. It was unbecoming of a shinobi of his caliber, a man who had amassed unparalleled experience in the deadly art of combat. He would not allow such carelessness to define him.

"How many?" Sasuke's voice was sharp, his body tensed and ready. Both shinobi could sense the subtle flickers in the foliage around them, the shifting leaves betraying just how thoroughly they were surrounded.

"Eighteen—and him."

Tobirama's curt response was enough to make Sasuke nod in acknowledgment. Both their gazes locked on the Raikage, who stood at the center of the chaos, charging his chakra. Tendrils of black lightning began to crackle and swirl around his form, coalescing into an armor of pure destructive power. It was his most feared technique, a testament to his immense skill and ferocity.

"Leave the outsiders to me. You take the Raikage—and the Jonin with him," Sasuke said, his hand moving instinctively to flick out a kunai. But before the weapon could leave its holster, he froze.

Tobirama's sharp glance cut through the tension, halting him mid-motion. The Senju's hands blurred through a sequence of deceptively simple hand seals, the gestures precise and deliberate. Sasuke's eyes narrowed, instantly decoding the silent message.

Rumble the ground.

Understanding flashed between them, and Sasuke's hands rose to his chest, moving in a blur of their own. His fingers danced through a series of seals too rapid for anyone without a dojutsu to follow. His chakra surged, visible now as a shimmering aura that made his hair whip in the gathering force of his power.

As he completed the final seal, his hands froze in place, the snake sign unmistakable to all who could see.

"Earth Style—!" Sasuke roared, slamming his palms onto the ground with a thunderous impact, much to the shock of everyone present.

It was an unusual act for a seasoned shinobi of his caliber. Announcing a jutsu so loudly was unbecoming of someone with his legendary reputation, and the surprise it elicited was palpable.

The Jonin, who had been flitting in and out of the shadows among the trees, froze mid-motion. Their flickering movements ceased as they braced themselves, wary of what Sasuke was about to unleash. Each of them maintained their distance, careful not to come into his direct line of sight, yet they could feel the buildup of raw power in the air.

"Terra-Forming!" he bellowed, his voice ringing out as his chakra surged violently through the earth beneath him.

And just as Tobirama had anticipated, the ground rumbled.

A massive quake tore through the clearing, shaking the very foundation of the battlefield. The earth cracked and splintered as a colossal chunk of bedrock surged upward, heaving into the air with unstoppable force. The technique was more than destructive—it was overwhelming, turning the ground itself into a weapon.

The sudden upheaval sent tremors radiating outward, the miniature earthquake disrupting balance and focus alike. The Raikage and his Jonin had no choice but to leap back in unison, narrowly evading the massive slab of rock that had been aimed deliberately at their position.

The sheer size of the bedrock, thrust upward with terrifying precision, left no doubt about Sasuke's intent.

Sasuke knew that Ei could effortlessly shatter the boulder with a single punch, his mighty Black Lightning Armor capable of pulverizing it into fragments.

But there was a catch. If Ei chose to take that route, he'd risk damaging his own shinobi—those who stood directly behind Sasuke. With Ei's reputation, the idea of him being taken down by a few errant rocks was utterly unthinkable.

No, Ei wouldn't break his own technique.

For now, all he could do was dodge.

However, Sasuke's intentions were far more intricate than they seemed. His move was only the beginning, a setup for something far more devastating. And it was made clear when he roared once more, his chakra flaring in a violent surge.

The ground shook violently as Sasuke's Earth Release erupted in full force, amplifying the tremors to a terrifying degree.

And the effects were immediate.

In mere moments, the once solid earth beneath their feet was reduced to chaos. The ground shattered with a fury, cracks spreading like webs across a vast radius of five hundred meters. Within seconds, the terrain around them was decimated—what had once been vibrant shrubbery was reduced to debris, the grassy fields giving way to chunks of bedrock that threatened to overturn them with every tremor.

The trees surrounding them—the ones where the Cloud ninjas had taken refuge—were ripped from the ground as though they were no more than fragile toothpicks plucked from a moist pie.

Sasuke let the jutsu fade after thirty seconds, his hands lowering to his sides as he surveyed the destruction. A low, wolfish whistle escaped his lips, unbidden.

"Heh," he muttered under his breath, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Still got it.

The once-pristine clearing had been reduced to utter devastation. Rubble and uprooted trees littered the ground, their roots clawing at the air as if in protest. Craters of varying depths pocked the landscape, their jagged edges resembling the aftermath of a triggered chain of land mines. The air hung heavy with dust and tension, a stark reminder of the chaos he had unleashed.

The Raikage had finally had enough. With a growl of frustration, he shoved aside the massive boulder he had been holding back, its weight insignificant compared to his raw strength. He straightened, his sharp eyes scanning the ravaged battlefield for signs of injury or weakness.

His gaze landed on his shinobi, emerging one by one from the destroyed terrain. Like cockroaches crawling from the cracks, they came out unscathed—resilient, unharmed, and as frustratingly persistent as ever.

"All that, and not even a single clean hit?" the Raikage snarled, his voice dripping with contempt. Disgust colored his features, but beneath it, an even sharper emotion lurked—disappointment.

To think a shinobi of Sasuke's caliber would go to such lengths for… what?

"Whoever said it was for offense?"

Sasuke's voice cut through the tension like a blade, soft and almost playful. His feigned innocence carried a tone so disarming it could have made a baby shy away.

Ei blinked in confusion at Sasuke's cryptic response, the faint sound of swirling water pulling his attention elsewhere.

A soft yet menacing rush reached his ears, growing steadily louder.

His head snapped to the side, and there stood Tobirama. The Senju's stance was firm, legs spread apart and hands tightly clasped together in a seal. His eyes were shut, his face a mask of focus, as he poured every ounce of concentration into his technique.

Around him, a massive torrent of water churned violently, forming a grounded typhoon of liquid fury. It spun with controlled chaos, restrained yet brimming with destructive potential.

Ei's sharp gaze narrowed as Tobirama's onyx eyes snapped open a heartbeat later. The typhoon slowed briefly, its currents clashing in a loud, resounding boom that reverberated through the battlefield.

Then, the storm unleashed itself.

The water surged outward in all directions, splitting into dozens of serpent-like tendrils. Each one slithered through the air with purpose, weaving through obstacles with uncanny precision, their intent unmistakable—to pierce and obliterate.

The Raikage and his companion, seasoned warriors to the core, reacted instantly. With swift movements, they dodged the deadly tendrils, avoiding harm as the water hissed past them harmlessly.

But not all were as fortunate.

Four of Ei's Jonin were caught off guard—three still dazed from Sasuke's earlier onslaught and one clutching his head from the relentless ringing in his ears. They didn't stand a chance.

The water tendrils struck true, skewering vital organs with brutal precision and bursting out the other side. The liquid once pristine now flowed crimson, painting the ground in their final moments.

Cries erupted across the clearing as their comrades took in the gruesome sight. Shouts of the fallen men's names echoed into the chaos, mingling with frantic instructions to dodge and escape. Yet, shock rooted many of them in place, their minds too stunned to fully process the carnage.

The remaining tendrils, unable to find their mark, darted across the battlefield in serpentine motions before splashing down into one of the larger craters. As they pooled together, they formed an artificial lake—one that looked as though it had been there for centuries, birthed from a natural disaster instead of the calculated wrath of Tobirama Senju.

Ei glared murderously at his two opponents, his fury only matched by the cold realization dawning upon him.

Now, at last, he understood the intricacies of their opening multi-step collaboration.

It had been carefully, thoroughly planned from the very beginning—the moment Tobirama had decided to seize the offensive.

And, infuriatingly, those accursed bastards had executed it to perfection.

Right before his very eyes.

Tobirama's sudden burst of chakra had been a deliberate ploy. Lacking any overt killing intent, it had served not as a direct attack but as a psychological strike, intimidating his shinobi and forcing hesitation at the sheer show of power.

Then came the fatal twist. Tobirama had exploited their momentary paralysis, teleporting to the very ones who had sought to ambush him. With surgical precision, he had eliminated his would-be assassins in a single, fluid movement. The shock of their own plan backfiring had rippled through his ranks like a poison.

And in that precise moment, Sasuke had struck.

The Uchiha's show of overwhelming power, punctuated by the deliberately shouted announcement of his technique, had driven the nail deeper. His theatrics sowed chaos, sending Ei's shinobi into disarray, their composure shattered.

What followed had been calculated brilliance.

Sasuke's massive Earth Release technique—an awe-inspiring display of raw destruction—had primarily targeted Ei himself. The Raikage had no choice but to dodge or counter the incoming boulders, his attention consumed by the largest one hurled directly at him.

While Ei focused on his own survival, his subordinates fell apart. Their panic, already stoked by Tobirama's sudden kills, turned into full-blown disorder as they witnessed the devastation Sasuke unleashed. Instead of regrouping, they scattered, running aimlessly in circles, their fear stripping them of reason.

And that was the genius of it.

Every aspect of their plan had been designed to disorient and distract. The destruction, the chaos, the panic—it was all a decoy, a carefully orchestrated symphony of misdirection. Ei's men, blinded by their terror and overwhelmed by the chaos, had been rendered incapable of responding effectively.

Tobirama and Sasuke had worked seamlessly, exploiting the Cloud shinobi's weaknesses at every turn.

Which brought them to the secondary stage of their plan—and its executor, Tobirama Senju.

That thrice-damned Senju had bided his time, standing aside while his partner created the perfect opening. Sasuke's overwhelming assault had bought him the crucial window he needed to concentrate, drawing a massive amount of moisture from the air around him.

And Ei's forces, blinded by the chaos, had been none the wiser.

His sensors—stunned and disoriented by the initial attacks—failed to detect what Tobirama was doing, crouched and seemingly inconspicuous at the edge of the battlefield. None had the clarity to notice the subtle buildup of chakra or the gathering of water in the air around him.

Then, he unleashed it.

That swirling hell of water had erupted like a tempest, striking with deadly precision. The tendrils snaked through the battlefield, skewering his most disoriented shinobi like headless chickens. They hadn't even realized what was happening until their lives were snuffed out, leaving them resting in their final places amidst the rubble.

But what infuriated Ei beyond all reason wasn't just the devastating loss of his men.

No.

What made his blood boil was the realization that this wasn't even the true purpose of their actions.

The water that now pooled across the battlefield, born from Tobirama's jutsu, served as more than just the aftermath of his attack. It was a carefully engineered resource—a series of readily available water sources placed strategically for Tobirama to manipulate at will.

It had been their plan all along.

From the very start, their goal had been to reshape the battlefield, conditioning their surroundings to suit their needs. They hadn't just been attacking—they had been constructing an environment that would grant them every conceivable advantage.

And worst of all? It was working.

But now, a major problem stood before him.

His sharp, calculating eyes scanned the battlefield, taking in the sight of his shinobi—some injured, others still struggling to recover from the sheer ferocity of the enemy's assault.

Meanwhile, those two—Tobirama and Sasuke—hadn't suffered so much as a scratch.

Not even a slap on the wrist.

Sure, they had expended massive amounts of chakra to unleash those devastating techniques, but the payoff had been far greater. And icing on the cake was that they didn't appear winded with their massive techniques.

The gamble had worked.

Now, Ei was left with a squadron reduced to nearly half its original numbers, and the survivors were battered and bruised.

And to make matters worse?

The battlefield itself was now an extension of his enemies' will—a weapon they could wield as they pleased.

"A smart shinobi is always mindful of their surroundings—Academy Awareness 101," Sasuke intoned sagely.

Ei's entire body tensed, his muscles coiled so tightly it was a wonder he didn't snap right then and there.

His teeth ground together with such force it felt as if they might shatter—or worse, pierce straight into his skull.

The Black Lightning surrounding his body crackled, surging violently like a caged storm barely being contained.

He was seconds away from blowing a gasket.

"But—"

Tobirama's voice cut through the tension like a blade of ice.

Cold.

Steady.

Absolute.

The kind of voice that sent shivers down even the most hardened shinobi's spine.

"—a legendary shinobi is one who bends the battlefield to his will when the time calls for it."

He spoke with the kind of detached authority that made it clear he wasn't simply repeating a lesson—he was reinforcing a fundamental truth. A truth that separated the weak from the strong. The dead from the victorious.

Ei's eyes burned with unbridled rage.

"Why, you bastards—I'll kill you!" he roared, vanishing in a flicker of black lightning, his fist aiming to tear through Tobirama's skull.

But in that same instant—

Tobirama's right arm shot up, his blade igniting into existence in a seamless flicker of motion.

Steel met flesh, and the battle ignited once more.

BAM!

Tobirama's heels dug deep into the earth, his blade braced against his left palm as he applied every ounce of his strength to halt the crushing force of Ei's fist. His biceps strained under the immense pressure, veins bulging along his arms and forehead—a clear testament to just how monstrous the Lightning Shadow's raw strength truly was.

For a single fist to exert such overwhelming power... even Tobirama had to acknowledge it.

"Now you're mine!" Ei snarled, his free hand surging with crackling Black Lightning as he raised it high, ready to bring it down in a devastating blow that would shatter both the sword and the man who had made his life a living hell—not just in the past few minutes, but for years.

He would end this. Here and now.

But his fist met only the crumbling earth.

Tobirama had vanished in a flicker of motion, the sharp whistle of displaced air the only evidence of his departure. When Ei's head snapped up, his fury intensified tenfold.

Tobirama stood atop the very tree where his first two victims had fallen, his stance casual yet calculated. And then, in a deliberate act of sheer audacity, he stepped forward—his foot landing squarely atop the head of a fallen Cloud shinobi.

No, not just his head. His forehead protector.

He walked across the corpse as if it were nothing more than a discarded piece of battlefield debris.

A message is clear and undeniable.

With each step, he drove the point home—Konoha stood above Kumo.

In strength.

In battle.

In respect.

Ei's entire body trembled, his blood boiling to a breaking point. The very air around him vibrated with his escalating killing intent, turning dense, suffocating.

He was being taunted.

Mocked.

Him.

The Lightning Shadow.

And he would not stand for it.

Furious beyond reason, Ei thrust his arm forward, launching a barrage of lightning-infused shuriken with terrifying speed. Their metallic edges crackled with black raw electricity, distorting the air around them as they tore through the battlefield. Yet, before the deadly projectiles could cover much distance, his hands blurred through a sequence of rapid seals—an instinctive display of his refined mastery over Lightning Release.

"Raiton: Raikyō!" (Lightning Style: Thunder Sphere)

With an explosive burst of energy, multiple orbs of condensed black lightning flared to life in the direct path of the flying shuriken. The very instant the shuriken pierced through them, a transformation took place—rather than simply continuing forward, the projectiles absorbed the spheres' concentrated energy, their speed and potency multiplying exponentially. The once-lethal weapons now became something even deadlier—blazing streaks of black lightning, each infused with a volatile, unstable charge.

"Raiton: Raikyō Shuriken no Jutsu!" (Lightning Style: Thunder Sphere Shuriken Technique)

Tobirama's eyes narrowed, his mind instantly recognizing the danger. This was not simply a ranged attack; it was a high-speed execution technique meant to eliminate even the most elusive opponents. A lesser shinobi would have already been dead before realizing their mistake. But Tobirama was not a lesser shinobi.

Without a moment's hesitation, his form flickered—space itself seemed to bend for a split second—before he disappeared entirely. The very instant his presence vanished, the deadly barrage struck the spot where he once stood, detonating with a thunderous explosion. The sheer force sent debris flying in every direction, leaving behind only scorched earth and crackling energy dancing across the battlefield.

But Ei didn't even flinch. Instead, a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. His eyes shifted, tracking the exact moment Tobirama materialized behind him in a blur of speed—his blade raised, gleaming with killing intent, the very tip mere inches from Ei's neck.

Tobirama moved to end it.

And yet—

"You took the bait, Hokage."

Ei's voice was filled with dark amusement. His smirk widened as arcs of black lightning erupted across his body, an ominous hum reverberating in the air. His muscles tensed, his entire being radiating overwhelming power.

"Too bad."

At that moment, as Tobirama's blade threatened to cleave through flesh, he realized the truth.

He was exactly where Ei wanted him to be.

"Lightning Style—NOW YOU'RE MINE!"

Ei thundered forward, his entire body surging with raw, volatile energy. Like an unstoppable force of nature, his muscles flexed, veins pulsing with the violent rage that fueled his every step. Finally, after years of bitter hatred and war, he had his chance to crush the man responsible for Kumo's suffering.

"LARIAT!"

The battlefield trembled as Ei swung his arm backward, his elbow braced for the devastating impact. The sheer force behind his charge split the air apart, a crackling arc of black lightning trailing his form as he drove his strike straight into Tobirama's exposed throat—

—only for his arm to cleave effortlessly through.

SPLASH!

A cascade of water erupted where flesh should have been. Ei's entire front was drenched in the sudden burst of liquid as the 'Tobirama' he struck split apart like a fragile wave, dissolving into useless puddles at his feet.

"Water Clone," Ei spat, his sharp battle instincts instantly registering the deception. But before he could react, another sound sliced through the air behind him—

"AHHH!"

A scream of raw agony.

His comrade, the jōnin who had fought beside him since the battle began, convulsed as a vibrant yellow blade burst from his chest. A single, jagged gasp left his lips as blood bubbled from his mouth, staining his teeth crimson. His body trembled as his knees buckled beneath him.

And then, as his consciousness faded, he turned his head just enough to see them—those eyes.

Cold.

Unforgiving.

Void of anything resembling mercy.

SQUELCH!

Without hesitation, Tobirama ripped the blade free and delivered a brutal kick, sending the dying shinobi crumpling lifelessly to the dirt. The dull thud of the body hitting the ground was drowned out by the sharp flick of his wrist, cleaning the blood from the shimmering edge of his weapon.

Tobirama turned his head as a familiar figure leaped down beside him—Sasuke. A cheeky grin stretched across the young Uchiha's face, his expression laced with unmistakable pride.

Too much pride.

SLASH!

The world spun.

For the briefest moment, "Sasuke" saw the battlefield tilt, the sky, and scorched earth blurring together in a dizzying whirl. Something felt wrong—detached, distant. And then—THUMP.

A dull impact. His vision settled at an unnatural angle, dust rising in slow, floating wisps before his eyes. He tried to move, but nothing responded. His body—where was his body?

Then he saw it.

A headless corpse, clad in familiar armor, dropped to its knees. A moment of stillness. Then, like a puppet with its strings cut, it collapsed forward, twitching once before going deathly still.

Realization dawned. His body. His severed head lay mere feet away.

The last thing his dying brain processed was the silver-haired executioner standing tall amidst the carnage. Tobirama Senju, unfazed, exhaled sharply, his crimson-streaked blade still humming with momentum. With a practiced flick of his wrist, he rid the weapon of excess blood, droplets splattering the ruined earth beneath him.

His cold, merciless gaze remained locked on the corpse.

"Next time you try to Henge into Sasuke… don't grin."

His voice was steel—calm, absolute, and final.

"Sasuke never does. Not during combat."

Those were the last words the imposter heard before the light faded from his stolen eyes.

Tobirama's gaze flicked to the side. From the distance, a tattered Sasuke limped toward him, one hand clutching his waist—the opposite side of where the clone had pretended to be wounded.

A crucial detail. One the enemy had overlooked.

Tobirama arched an eyebrow as his gaze swept over Sasuke's form, noting the numerous cuts marring his torso—especially the deep gash running from his back and burrowing into the side of his waist.

Sasuke grunted in annoyance, wincing as he pressed his fingers into the wound to slow the bleeding.

"They had a genjutsu user in their ranks. That Bastard was a sensor and a Kenjutsu user…" he muttered, irritation clear in his voice. His tone was more vexed than pained, as though the wounds were merely an inconvenience.

Tobirama said nothing, as usual, his piercing gaze shifting back to their lone remaining opponent.

Ei, the Second Raikage, stood motionless.

Too still.

Too calm.

For a man who had just lost his entire unit, his reaction was... unnatural.

And then it hit them.

There were eighteen jōnin-level chakra signatures.

And three Kage-level presences.

Which meant—

Tobirama had no time to even utter a warning before he lunged aside—just as a massive broadsword came crashing down onto his last position. The blade's bizarre design, coupled with the strange talisman attached to its end, sent a pulse of ominous energy through the air as it struck the ground with a resounding BOOM.

Too close.

His sharp eyes flicked sideways, instinctively scanning for Sasuke Sarutobi—good. The Sarutobi had evaded as well. Tobirama noted the clean precision in his movement, but something in Sasuke's narrowed gaze told him it had been far too close for comfort.

Both shinobi skidded to a stop, their feet digging into the war-torn ground as they assessed their attackers.

Sasuke, for his part, was silently praising his luck.

A single second slower, and he would have lost his head.

That thing wrapped around his attacker's arm—a strange, glowing energy—had nearly cleaved him apart in one brutal swing. Had it not been for the severed head Tobirama had tossed forward moments earlier, and the fleeting shadowed reflection in his forehead protector, he wouldn't have noticed the strike in time.

Even so, he wasn't completely unscathed. A thin, fresh gash marred his cheek, a burning sting tracing where the attack had grazed him.

"Ginkaku, do it!"

The voice rang out sharply.

The one who had attempted to cleave Tobirama apart—Ginkaku—snapped into motion, his form blurring as he shot toward Sasuke Sarutobi at blinding speeds.

Sasuke merely watched in amusement as the man hefted his oversized sword high above his head, preparing to bring it crashing down.

Slow.

Pathetically slow.

As if he would ever let himself get hit by something so telegraphed.

But then—

"What the—?"

A sharp gasp escaped his lips as a blue, translucent cloud suddenly forced its way out of his throat, slipping past his lips like a spectral wisp. It hovered before him, almost like a wayward spirit, flickering with an eerie glow.

His brows furrowed in confusion—what the hell was this?

SLASH!

Ginkaku's blade cut downward, but it wasn't aimed at him.

It cleaved through the strange cloud instead.

Sasuke's eyes widened as he watched the ethereal mist absorb into the weapon's edge, vanishing entirely as if it had never existed.

"Shichiseiken Curse!" Ginkaku laughed, his tone laced with victorious amusement.

Sasuke narrowed his gaze, his grip on his kunai tightening.

Yet—he felt nothing.

No pain.

No weakness.

No shift in his chakra.

Nothing at all.

And yet, both identical-looking men—save for the contrast in their golden and silver hair—howled with laughter, as if he were already dead.

His irritation flared.

"What the hell did you do—?"

UMPH!

A hand clamped over his mouth, cutting him off mid-sentence. Instinct kicked in—his kunai pressed against where his attacker's liver should be, ready to drive it in for a fatal blow—

Then he froze.

A voice. Familiar. Cold. Commanding.

"Don't speak…"

Tobirama's whisper slithered into his ear, sharp with urgency.

Sasuke's body went rigid for a brief moment before he gave a short, understanding nod.

Only then did Tobirama release his grip, stepping beside him with an unreadable expression.

His wary scarlet gaze remained locked onto the laughing brothers.

"You are cursed, Sasuke. They put it on you just now…"

A silent glance passed between them.

No unnecessary words.

Just understanding.

And the weight of impending danger.

"Do exactly as I say, and you'll be fine."

Tobirama's whisper was firm, calculated.

Sasuke gave a silent nod.

Meanwhile, Tobirama's mind was a storm of calculations.

He had knowledge of these weapons—artifacts revered as the tools of the Sage of the Six Paths himself. Anything tied to such divine relics had long since piqued his interest, pushing him to gather as much information as possible.

But even with all his research, mysteries remained.

Ancient texts spoke of the tools, their true power only accessible to someone of the Sage's direct bloodline. Which meant—

These two fools were, in some way, related to the father of all chakra.

Tobirama's lips pressed into a thin line.

He had already heard whispers—rumors that Kumo possessed the Amber Purifying Pot, the very same tool they had once used to seal the Hachibi after failing spectacularly to capture the Kyuubi.

And now, standing before him, those rumors were confirmed.

They didn't just have one of the Sage's tools.

They had five.

And four of them were already in play.

Tobirama's mind snapped into analysis mode.

Little was known about their full capabilities, but from what he had just witnessed, he could make an educated guess.

The strange blue wisp he had severed from Sasuke's lips—before it was absorbed into the blade—had to be the key.

Each tool seemed to function as a sealing device.

Cursed sealing techniques.

Which meant…

It likely had something to do with speech. With words.

Yet—Sasuke had already spoken a few sentences… and nothing had happened.

Which meant… what?

Tobirama's eyes narrowed.

The puzzle was incomplete.

But he would solve it.

"Sasuke, say my surname. And only my surname. Nothing less, nothing more."

Tobirama's voice was clipped, controlled—but there was a sharpness to it, an underlying urgency that did not go unnoticed.

Sasuke nodded without hesitation.

Tobirama wasn't the type to show nervousness—not unless something was truly dangerous. If he was this tense, then following his instructions was the only logical course of action.

The man was a walking compendium of forbidden knowledge—if anyone could unravel this cursed technique in the heat of battle, it was Tobirama Senju.

"Senju."

The word left Sasuke's lips.

Nothing happened.

He exhaled, tension slipping from his shoulders.

Tobirama gave a curt nod, his sharp mind already filing away this new development.

But what confirmed his suspicion was the reaction.

The stiffening of their enemies' posture.

The slight, momentary seriousness in their expressions before they masked it with amusement.

It was enough.

He was on the right path.

This curse—whatever it was—had to do with speech. With words.

That much was certain.

Tobirama's eyes sharpened.

Now to confirm it.

His voice was calm, but each syllable carried the weight of a deadly probe.

"What did you do to him?"

A simple question.

Bait.

The golden and silver-haired brothers burst into laughter.

Loud. Mocking.

Almost… joyous.

"Now that would be telling~" Ginkaku howled, clutching his sides in amusement.

The ever-stoic Tobirama Senju, looking guarded? Uneasy?

Oh, this was delicious.

"Yeah, after all—'Silence is Golden'!"

Kinkaku's voice dripped with satisfaction, a knowing smirk stretching across his face.

Ginkaku wheezed, pointing at his brother, barely able to contain himself.

"And words… oh, words can be so eloquent~"

He grinned—because soon, the shock, the realization, the horror—

Would finally set in.

"You damn idiots, stay serious for once. I want this bastard dead. Do not let that damn Senju out of here alive!" Ei roared, his fury echoing through the battlefield, he jumped down beside his companions, their crude laughter dying under his glare.

"Yeah, boss, don't worry. These two are dead men already." Ginkaku waved a hand dismissively, his smirk lingering a little too long.

Ei's fist tightened, his jaw clenching. A muscle in his temple twitched, but he said nothing. The others snickered under their breath, the air heavy with something more than just the stench of blood.

Tobirama narrowed his eyes, his fury fixating on the silver-haired one—especially after that pointed joke, the one that had made the golden-haired fool laugh even harder.

Neither of them had any sense of duty. They were here only for their own amusement.

'Silence is golden, silence is golden, silence is…'

A spark of realization flickered in his mind. It wasn't just the words—it was the way they had been spoken, laced with biting sarcasm. That was what had caught his attention.

The silver-haired idiot had glanced at Sasuke for the briefest moment before delivering the line. And Ginkaku? He had laughed even harder.

They were implying something.

Warning him.

Stay silent to stay alive.

Tobirama's secondary assumptions clicked into place. The curse—this had to be related to it.

'Words can be so eloquent.'

What had he meant by that? Tobirama's mind raced, piecing together the puzzle. The Raikage, now intrigued, gave them the breathing room to act first—an opportunity Tobirama fully intended to use.

'Eloquent…'

That fool had been cryptic on purpose.

Choose your words wisely while staying silent.

His thoughts ran through countless possibilities, weighing which held the most truth.

He had to be right.

Sasuke's life depended on it.

'Wait... that's it…!'

Tobirama blinked once.

Then again.

The pieces had fallen into place, their cryptic jokes unraveling in an instant.

"Silence is the key, but words must be chosen carefully."

He stated it flatly, his smirk widening ever so slightly when the brothers' eyes went wide.

They had given everything away—without ever meaning to.

But such was the keen mind of Tobirama Senju—never one to be trifled with.

"Sasuke."

The Sarutobi clan head tensed slightly at hearing his name, but the moment his eyes landed on Tobirama's smirking face, he exhaled in relief.

That thrice-damned Senju had figured it out already.

Both sides shared the thought simultaneously—though their feelings toward the man were polar opposites.

Oh, the irony…

"Only say Senju," Tobirama instructed.

Sasuke nodded, listening intently as the Senju trailed off as if counting silently in his head.

"…Every sixty seconds. Do not stay silent for more than that, and whatever happens, do not say anything else. Call me out and use hand signs to communicate. Do you get me? Do not say anything else—no matter what."

Sasuke didn't bother responding, just nodding once more—and smirking.

Because when he looked up, he saw rage.

Absolute, undiluted rage twisting the faces of their enemies.

Tobirama had done what he did best—rendering his foes utterly, irreversibly furious.

Sasuke might have chuckled at that, had the situation not been so grim.

"I'll take the Raikage. You go for the idiotic-looking two."

Tobirama's voice was cold, strict, devoid of anything resembling emotion.

And it was that casual dismissal—more than anything else—that shattered what little composure the Silver and Gold Brothers had left.

Not only had he unraveled their technique in mere seconds—but now, he was dismissing them entirely.

Like they were nothing.

Like they were irrelevant.

Like they were, as he so blatantly stated, idiots.

They were not irrelevant.

With a roar of pure fury, Kinkaku and Ginkaku lunged for him, their anger overriding everything else.

A massive surge of bloodlust flooded the battlefield as the two enraged brothers were engulfed in swirling, bubbling red chakra. Nine spectral, malevolent tails lashed violently behind them, their forms now distorted by the overwhelming presence of the Kyuubi's chakra.

Tobirama and Sasuke stiffened in alarm, eyes widening in sheer horror. No amount of calculation could have prepared them for this—nobody had ever considered the possibility that these two brutes had survived after ingesting the flesh of the Nine-Tails and now acted as pseudo-jinchūriki.

And now, that deadly truth stood before them, radiating raw, demonic fury.

The very air cracked and sizzled with oppressive chakra as the two figures vanished from sight, reappearing in a blur of devastating speed.

On pure instinct, Tobirama lunged. His hand clamped onto Sasuke's shoulder, and with a single flicker of his Flying Thunder God technique, they disappeared just as a pair of monstrous claws slashed through the space they had occupied.

The next instant, they reappeared several meters away, their feet skidding across the torn ground.

Tobirama's mind spun furiously.

This was beyond what even he had anticipated. This wasn't a battle against shinobi anymore. This was a battle against two raging pseudo-tailed beasts, with none of the conventional counters available.

Sasuke turned to his Senju comrade, his expression twisted into something that was both resignation and exasperation.

"Tobirama, we're fucked, aren't we?"

If it had been anyone else, Tobirama would have snapped at them for their indecent language. But given their current predicament—and the fact that it was Sasuke himself who had said it—he let it slide.

His lips pressed into a thin line before he reluctantly nodded.

"…Yeah, Sasuke, we're fucked. But not that fucked."

Tobirama's crimson eyes locked onto the scene before them. The battlefield was already shifting, the very earth trembling beneath the chaotic malice emanating from their adversaries. He knew far too well that tailed beast chakra was nothing to be trifled with. Even with his Senju lineage granting him an unparalleled physique, direct contact with that corrosive energy was dangerous.

But Sasuke?

Unlike him, Sasuke lacked the natural resilience of the Senju.

This was bad.

There were only a few ways to deal with a tailed beast—seal them, control them with the Sharingan's powerful genjutsu, or overwhelm them with his brother's Mokuton.f

None of those options were available to him.

And worse—these weren't true-tailed beasts. They were something more unstable, more unpredictable. Subduing them would be nearly impossible.

That left him with only two options.

The first was risky—unbelievably so. If it worked, the battle would shift in their favor, making victory possible. If it failed… then his last option was something far more unethical. Something he didn't want to do.

Something he couldn't afford to do.

He had no choice.

The first option was the viable one.

All of these calculations, weighing out countless possibilities, took no more than three seconds in the razor-sharp mind of Tobirama Senju.

Turning to Sasuke, Tobirama's fingers moved swiftly through a series of hand seals, relaying a coded message.

'Stick together. I'm going to use a jutsu—keep an eye on the Raikage.'

Sasuke's eyes flickered with understanding, his own hands forming a quick response.

'Affirmative.'

Their silent exchange ended just as Kinkaku, growing increasingly impatient, ripped his fist from the shattered ground. His growl of frustration rumbled like thunder.

Why couldn't that damned Senju just stay still and let him punch his head off? It would save so much time for him and his brother.

No matter.

Without a word, he and Ginkaku lunged forward once again, their bodies wreathed in the furious, bubbling aura of the Kyuubi's stolen chakra. With such overwhelming power coursing through their veins, there was no longer any need for the treasured tools of the Six Paths.

Raw, brute strength would be more than enough to cleave the Hokage's head from his shoulders.

Kinkaku moved like a crimson blur, his body propelled by the raw speed of the stolen Kyuubi chakra. In the blink of an eye, he was already upon the white-haired Senju, his fist lashing out like a battering ram.

Tobirama's instincts screamed at him—Move!

His body reacted faster than conscious thought, and in a flash of blue, he vanished, reappearing at one of his pre-placed Flying Thunder God markers a short distance away.

The moment his feet touched the ground, his sharp gaze flickered toward his new position, scanning for danger. His heart pounded—not in fear, but in cold, calculating urgency.

For his plan to work, he needed his opponents in one place. But their sheer speed was throwing off his strategy. Kinkaku was relentless, and with Sasuke now occupied by Ginkaku, staying together was proving increasingly difficult.

Tobirama needed to adjust.

His mind whirled, dissecting the battlefield in seconds. He had to either slow Kinkaku down—or force him into a trap. Either way, he had to act now.

"Sasuke!" Tobirama's voice cut through the chaos of battle like a sharpened blade. "Stick to the plan!"

Sasuke, weaving between Ginkaku's wild, chakra-infused swings, barely spared him a glance but gave a sharp nod. He had already anticipated Tobirama's call.

From the sidelines, the Second Raikage observed with mild amusement, his arms crossed over his chest. 'A plan? So, the Senju lamb still believes he can fight fate…' His lips curled into a smirk. 'It will be entertaining to watch what desperate measures he has up his sleeve. But no matter the struggle—Kumogakure's destiny to stand atop the shinobi world will be realized today.'

Tobirama didn't waste time confirming Sasuke's response. His hands blurred through a rapid sequence of seals, chakra coiling within him like a tightened spring. He had no room for hesitation.

But Kinkaku wasn't about to let him act freely. With a furious roar, the beast-cloaked warrior lunged, his sheer speed bending the air around him. Bubbling red chakra wreathed his arms, claws forming from pure malice as he slashed for Tobirama's throat—

Only to strike empty space.

In a flicker of blue light, Tobirama vanished once more.

He reappeared precisely where he needed to be—closer to Sasuke, ensuring they weren't separated again.

Kinkaku snarled, his frustration mounting with each failed attempt to land a decisive blow. His bubbling cloak of malevolent chakra flared wildly around him, distorting the very air with its oppressive heat. His teeth ground together as he scanned the battlefield, searching for his elusive prey.

"That damn Senju rat…" His fingers twitched with bloodlust, claws flexing in anticipation. "I swear, once I get my hands on him, I'll rip him apart limb by limb."

His eyes locked onto Tobirama's new position near Sasuke, and his fury surged. He wouldn't let the White Fang of Konoha slip away again. With a roar that sent a shockwave rippling through the battlefield, Kinkaku launched himself forward, his chakra cloak expanding, his killing intent suffocating.

This time, he would catch him.

But neither of the brothers were ready for what Tobirama had planned for them.

They were mere moments away from reaching the Senju, their bloodlust peaking, their chakra cloaks thrashing wildly. Victory was already within their grasp—or so they thought.

Then, Tobirama spoke.

"Genjutsu Domain Expansion: Infinite Black Abyss."

The words alone seemed to echo through the battlefield, carrying an unseen weight, a shift in reality itself.

After casting his ultimate Genjutsu, Tobirama smirked as his plan worked. But his expression soured slightly as he recalled how he came up with this technique.

That damned blonde-haired Uchiha brat—his so-called apprentice—had once thrown out the idea of a Genjutsu Domain Expansion.

A ridiculous, impractical concept. He lacked the knowledge to make it real, yet somehow, the thought had lingered in Tobirama's mind.

Annoying. But… not without merit.

Naruto was sharp—far too composed for a Uchiha—and his Sharingan had reached its peak. But he lacked the deeper understanding of chakra and ninjutsu mechanics to refine his own idea. It was nothing more than a half-formed thought. But Tobirama? He was the inventor of modern ninjutsu. Turning ideas into reality was what he did.

And so, he had taken his Bringer of Darkness and pushed it beyond its limits.

Mugen Kurobuchi – Infinite Black Abyss.

Was the technique he finally came up with.

The moment it activated, the enemy was robbed of everything—sight, sound, even awareness of their own body. They wouldn't just be blind; they would exist in a void where even their own heartbeat couldn't reach them. Their instincts would fail, their senses would betray them, and when they reached their limit, he would grant them a single moment of blinding light—just enough to shatter their mind completely.

A simple concept, yet devastating when perfected.

Naruto had the idea, but only Tobirama had the ability to make it real.

One day, perhaps, the brat would refine it further. But for now?

This domain belonged to Tobirama Senju.

Kinkaku and Ginkaku's furious charge halted mid-step as their vision twisted and warped—then, in an instant, plunged into total darkness. Their bloodlust was replaced by sheer confusion. Sight, sound, touch—everything vanished. Their bodies felt weightless, untethered from reality.

Kinkaku swung wildly, but his claws met nothing. Ginkaku turned at the sound of his brother's voice—only to find himself utterly alone. Were they even standing? Moving? Breathing? Their minds scrambled for any sense of direction, but the void swallowed all logic.

Even their heightened senses from using Kyuubi Chakra were not working.

Kinkaku and Ginkaku thrashed in desperation, but it was futile. Their bodies felt weightless, their movements erratic—were they even moving? The darkness was infinite, suffocating. They couldn't hear, couldn't see, couldn't feel. Their own minds turned against them, feeding them illusions of enemies that weren't there, of attacks that never landed.

Then, the void shifted. A glimmer of light flickered in the distance—hope? No, a lie. The instant their minds latched onto it, the world shattered again, reversing into a blinding, merciless brilliance. Their bodies locked up, their senses overloaded beyond comprehension.

Tobirama struck.

A burst of chakra. A flicker of blue light. He was gone.

And then—"Hiraishingiri."

Kinkaku's body convulsed as Tobirama's sword buried itself deep into his back, piercing his lung in a single, precise strike. His enhanced durability meant nothing against the Senju's surgical precision. Blood sprayed into the void, though neither brother could see it.

Ginkaku, still trapped in the abyss, roared in frustration. He tried to react—tried to do anything—but his body betrayed him. He lashed out at empty space, his claws raking through illusions. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, deafening and frantic. Was he alone? Was his brother still there?

Another flicker. Another instant of teleportation.

And then—"Hiraishingiri."

Tobirama's blade slid between Ginkaku's ribs, skewering his heart from behind before the fool even realized what had happened. His mouth opened in a silent scream, but no words escaped.

Tobirama exhaled sharply, his breaths ragged and uneven as he forced himself to stay upright. His muscles burned, his vision swam at the edges, and the bitter taste of iron filled his mouth. The technique was still in its infancy, and maintaining both the Domain and rapid-fire Hiraishin had drained him more than he cared to admit. His knees threatened to buckle, but sheer willpower kept him standing.

Still, the results spoke for themselves.

Kinkaku and Ginkaku lay sprawled on the battlefield, their bodies twitching, the once-roaring Bijuu chakra cloak flickering before vanishing completely. Without it, they were nothing more than battered corpses waiting to be finished off.

Tobirama barely had the energy to lift his gaze, but the real spectacle wasn't the fallen enemies—it was Sasuke.

The Sarutobi stood frozen, gaping at him like a fish gasping for air, his eyes comically wide. His hand was still hovering near his thigh, gripping a kunai in a white-knuckled grip, as if he had nearly stabbed himself mid-battle.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Sasuke managed to find his voice.

"What the hell was that thing?!" he bellowed, pointing an accusing finger at Tobirama, his indignation overshadowing the fact that they had just barely survived a near-impossible fight.

Tobirama tried to glare at him, but even that took effort. He wiped the blood off his trembling hands, forcing himself to breathe evenly before muttering, "A jutsu." His voice was hoarse, and even speaking felt like dragging words through molasses.

Sasuke's eye twitched violently. "You bastard! At least tell me when you have something like that up your sleeve! I nearly pierced my own thigh with my kunai in that freakshow of a nightmare! Do you have any idea how expensive skincare treatment is?!"

Tobirama huffed, his shoulders rising and falling as he struggled to regain some strength. "...Are you seriously talking about skincare right now?"

Sasuke crossed his arms, huffing. "You're damn right I am. Do you know what a cut from my own kunai could do to my flawless skin? You could've at least warned me before launching a jutsu straight out of a horror novel!"

Tobirama let out a slow, exhausted sigh, rubbing his temple with trembling fingers. He had just pulled off a battle-changing technique, outmaneuvered two pseudo-Jinchūriki, and survived impossible odds—only to be scolded about skincare.

Maybe he really was cursed.

Time slowed.

Tobirama barely had the strength to turn, but he felt it—the crackling surge of chakra, the oppressive killing intent, the shift in the air behind him.

Sasuke's warning came, but it was already too late.

The Raikage's form blurred into existence, cloaked in his crackling Lightning Release armor. A spear of death in the form of a lightning-infused kunai shot forward, and before Tobirama could react—before he could even think—pain exploded through his back.

The kunai sank deep into his spinal cord.

A sharp gasp tore from Tobirama's throat as his body seized up, his limbs momentarily refusing to respond. A sickening crack echoed across the battlefield as nerves were severed, muscles spasmed, and blood spurted violently from the wound. The sheer force of the strike sent his already-weakened body lurching forward.

Sasuke's breath hitched. His mind reeled, unable to process what had just happened.

No—no, no, no—

Tobirama staggered, the world tilting dangerously around him. His body was ablaze with agony, yet he gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay on his feet. The numbness crawling up his spine threatened to take hold, but sheer will kept him standing—if only barely.

His vision blurred as he reached out, grasping for the rough bark of a nearby tree to steady himself. His fingers dug into the trunk, but his strength failed him. His legs buckled, and with a harsh grunt, he tumbled to the ground.

Pain flared through his back, the embedded kunai twisting deeper into his flesh. He clenched his jaw, swallowing the strangled groan threatening to escape. Gritting his teeth, he refused to stay down. Slowly, painfully, he crawled backward, dragging himself until his back pressed against the sturdy trunk.

The bark dug into his wounds, sending fresh waves of searing pain through his body, but he ignored it.

He wouldn't fall.

Not here. Not yet.

The Raikage sneered, his voice dripping with cold triumph. "For all your intellect, Senju, you forgot one thing… you're not the only predator on this battlefield."

A shadow flickered in his peripheral vision.

"Sasuke—!" His voice came out hoarse, but the warning was lost in the chaos

The Raikage's kick connected with brutal force, the sheer velocity behind it turning Sasuke into little more than a ragdoll. His ribs screamed in protest as his body was launched through the air, spinning uncontrollably before slamming into a thick tree trunk with a sickening crack.

A sharp, jagged piece of bark splintered from the impact, piercing through his lower back and stabbing out from his stomach. A choked gasp escaped his lips, crimson spilling from the wound as agony exploded through his body.

His vision swam. The world tilted. A sharp, searing pain flared across his back, his lungs refusing to draw in breath. He tried to push himself up, but his limbs felt like dead weight. The impact had shaken him to the core, his senses flickering in and out.

Damn… that bastard is strong…

His body refused to move. His eyelids felt heavier with each passing second. He gritted his teeth, fighting to stay awake, to do something—but the darkness creeping into his vision was relentless.

As the last of his strength left him, his final conscious thought was a curse directed squarely at the Raikage before the void swallowed him whole.

---

Tobirama's breath came in ragged gasps, his vision swimming between clarity and darkness. His body was refusing to move, chakra slipping from his grasp like sand through his fingers. He had never felt this weak before—never felt so helpless.

And yet, the battlefield didn't wait for him to recover.

The Raikage's voice was a cruel thunderclap in the eerie silence, his roar shaking the earth as he called upon his subordinates.

"Hey, you two idiots! How long do you plan on sleeping?!"

Tobirama's blurred vision shifted toward the fallen figures of Kinkaku and Ginkaku. His heart lurched in realization, but it was too late—far too late.

Their bodies twitched.

Muscles that should have been torn beyond repair convulsed. Flesh which should have been charred black by his technique knitted itself back together. Chakra that should have been drained surged anew, brimming with that cursed, stolen power of the Nine-Tails.

He finally understood these two were just toying with him earlier, it was no wonder how a single sword slash was able to take down Bijuu chakra-induced individuals. They did it on purpose.

Like revenants clawing their way from the grave, the two brothers sloppily pushed themselves upright, their injuries healing in real-time before his very eyes.

Kinkaku snarled, his bloodstained lips curling into a feral grin. "Boss, let me kill that bastard! That mongrel cheated—struck while I wasn't looking!"

Ginkaku grunted in agreement, cracking his knuckles.

But their rage was nothing compared to the fury that burned in the Raikage's eyes.

"Shut up, you damn fools!" Ei's voice cracked like a whip, raw and unyielding. "Because of your idiocy, that Senju is still breathing! If you hadn't been playing around, he would've been dead moments ago!"

The brothers stiffened under their leader's wrath, but even their bruised pride couldn't deny the truth in his words.

Tobirama, meanwhile, trembled.

Not from fear of death, nor from the agony wracking his body. But from the unbearable, crushing weight of failure.

Tears welled in his fading crimson eyes, hot trails of shame carving down his bloodied face.

I'm sorry, Misa… Roku… I failed you…
I'm sorry, brother… I failed my promise to you…
I'm sorry, Tsuna… Nawaki… I wasn't strong enough to protect your parents…
I'm sorry… I'm really, really sorry…

Across from him, the Raikage grinned savagely, the expression of a man who had already won.

"Yes… that's it," Ei purred, his voice laced with cruel satisfaction. "Keep breaking apart, Tobirama Senju… keep breaking apart. Today, it's you. Tomorrow, it will be your village."

But it wasn't enough.

No, it would never be enough.

The Raikage didn't just want to kill the man who was pathetically leaning against a tree but still looking at him with a defiant gaze. He wanted to shatter him. To grind his spirit to dust and scatter it to the wind.

He wanted Tobirama Senju to beg for mercy.

"Umm… what to do… what to do…" the Raikage lamented, his voice carrying an air of mock contemplation like a monk pondering the meaning of life.

He tapped his chin, strolling leisurely toward Tobirama's trembling form, savoring every second of the man's misery. The battlefield had long since fallen silent, the storm of battle now reduced to the shallow, ragged breaths of a dying Hokage.

Kinkaku and Ginkaku, still simmering with rage, cracked their knuckles in anticipation. The thrill of battle had been robbed from them, but the opportunity to watch the dreaded Tobirama Senju crumble before them was just as satisfying.

Ei crouched before him, his golden eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. "Tell me, Lord Hokage… how does it feel? To be powerless? To know that, no matter how much you struggle, everything you love will be crushed beneath my heel?"

Tobirama didn't answer.

Not because he had no words—but because he refused to give the Raikage the satisfaction.

Even as his body failed him, even as his chakra dwindled, the Senju's glare remained sharp, unwavering. There was no resignation in those crimson eyes—only defiance.

The Raikage sighed theatrically. "Still stubborn, huh?" He straightened, shaking his head. "I suppose that's to be expected. But don't worry, I'll carve that pride out of you soon enough."

A slow, predatory grin stretched across his face.

Now… how do you break completely?

The Raikage perked up as if he had just experienced divine enlightenment. His form blurred with blinding speed, and within a heartbeat, he reappeared—holding something.

A bloodied corpse.

Misa.

Tobirama's breath caught in his throat. His already broken body went rigid, his crimson-stained eyes locking onto the lifeless form of the woman he had sworn to protect. His mind screamed, refusing to process what lay before him, but reality was merciless. The gaping wound across her body, the limpness of her once-proud frame—undeniable proof that she was gone.

Raikage's savage gaze met Tobirama's horror-stricken eyes. A wicked grin stretched across his face.

"Look here, Senju… Before you die, let this be your final parting gift—a glimpse of your village's future." His voice was thick with cruel amusement, reveling in the despair he was crafting.

Then, in an act of pure defilement, he forced Misa's lifeless face toward him and crushed his lips against hers.

His disgusting lips smeared against her cold ones, pressing, sucking, gnawing at flesh that could no longer resist. Her body, limp and heavy, sagged in his grip, her head lolling uselessly as he forced the mockery of a kiss.

A sick squelch, the wet sound of his mouth working against dead flesh.

Her blood still clung to her skin, mixing with his saliva, turning the kiss into something vile, something rancid. He pulled back slightly, strands of spit and blood stretching between them, before pressing in again, harder, rougher.

No breath.

No warmth.

No response.

Just a corpse in his arms.

And yet, he still wanted more.

Tobirama felt his world split apart.

A hollow ringing filled his ears. His already exhausted body trembled—not from fatigue, but from a white-hot rage that burned so fiercely it threatened to consume him entirely. His vision blurred, not from pain, but from the sheer, unbearable weight of this moment.

Even in death… even after everything… she was being desecrated before his very eyes.

The Raikage finally pulled away, exhaling with sick pleasure. His grip tightened around Misa's corpse as his other hand shamelessly groped her, his fingers trailing over her curves in mock appreciation.

"Damn, Second Hokage… even in death, her body is something else," he mused, his thumb brushing against her cold skin. His grip squeezed possessively. "Her lips… still so soft. Supple. Mmm, your lineage truly is blessed in all the right places…"

Tobirama's nails dug into the dirt, his chakra violently flaring despite his depleted reserves. His body begged for rest, but his will refused.

The Raikage wasn't satisfied. He tilted his head, grinning wider as his hand slid further.

"Hmm… Is that parting gift enough for you, Tobirama? No… perhaps not. Maybe you'd like a more seeable show… I mean, even a corpse can still be—"

Something inside Tobirama snapped.

The air around Tobirama shifted.

Not a single moment of mental preparation was needed—no man could witness the woman of his household being defiled before his very eyes and remain sane.

And this was Tobirama Senju.

You could commit every sin in existence, break every moral code, and trample on every rule of humanity. But there was one thing—one absolute—that no man should ever do.

Never anger a Senju.

And above all else… never anger an already angered Tobirama Senju.

The man who played with space and time. The man who rewrote the laws of existence itself.

His body was broken, his chakra was drained, and his vision was swimming from exhaustion. But those were just details—meaningless in the face of the absolute fury that now consumed him.

Tobirama's mind fixated on three thoughts.

"Fuck rationality."

"Fuck natural laws."

"And most importantly… fuck. YOU."

His hands slammed together in a single absolute seal. The weight of his willpower alone seemed to warp reality itself.

The ground quaked.

The very air around them cracked as if the world itself recoiled from the unnatural force being unleashed. The Raikage's twisted grin froze on his face as an ominous rumble echoed through the battlefield.

Tobirama's bloodied fingers clenched into the final seal, his voice a mere whisper yet carrying the weight of undeniable authority—

"Edo Tensei no Jutsu."

The earth split apart in jagged, violent cracks as something—no, someone—rose from the depths of the void Tobirama had just torn open.

A presence unlike any other filled the battlefield.

Black eyes opened.

The scent of fresh wood filled the air.

An aura so vast, so overwhelmingly powerful, that the Raikage, Kinkaku, and Ginkaku all staggered back, their bodies screaming at them to run, to flee, to kneel.

Tobirama, still leaning against a tree, let out a ragged breath, his face twisted in agony and rage. Blood dripped from his lips, but his gaze—his vengeful, murderous gaze—never wavered from the Raikage.

The man who had dared to defile her.

The man who would now know true despair.

The revived figure cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the dust of time itself.

The First Hokage, Hashirama Senju, had returned.

For the first time in a decade, Hashirama let out a hearty laugh the moment his vision adjusted, stretching his arms as if he had just woken from a deep slumber, rubbing the back of his head as he looked at his younger brother.

"Ahahaha! So, who's responsible for bringing me back this time? Tobi, was it you again?" he teased, turning to his brother with amusement—

—until he actually saw him.

But the words died in his throat.

His jovial grin faltered. His body stiffened. His golden-brown eyes locked onto Tobirama's battered, half-dead form, the blood staining on the ground the amount far too severe to be brushed off. His usually sharp, calculating eyes were dull, glazed with exhaustion and pain. His body trembled violently, as if sheer willpower was the only thing keeping him from collapsing.

A dreadful chill crept up Hashirama's spine.

"Tobi… what happened?"

Tobirama, barely holding himself upright, coughed violently, more blood spilling from his lips. He looked up at his brother with an expression Hashirama had never seen before—pure, unfiltered grief.

Then, in a voice so weak—so unlike the proud, unyielding brother he had always known—Tobirama whispered, "Brother… I don't have much time left… look for yourself."

And with that, his body finally went slack, his consciousness slipping away.

Hashirama's breath hitched. His hands shot forward on instinct, desperate to grab him, to heal him, to fix whatever had been done—but something in Tobirama's voice, that uncharacteristic resignation, made him hesitate.

Slowly, he turned his gaze outward, as instructed.

The battlefield stretched before him, scarred beyond recognition. Craters pockmarked the land, jagged fissures tore through the earth like the wounds of a dying beast, and a newly formed lake shimmered ominously in one of the larger craters. The ground was scorched black in places, steam still rising from the remnants of intense battles.

But then—his eyes landed on something. And his world stopped.

And then the world froze.

His breath hitched. His mind refused to process what he was seeing.

There, hanging limply from a tree like some discarded prey, was his son.

His child.

Roku

His precious boy—his pride—dangling lifelessly, his body carved with deep, jagged scars that told a tale of prolonged agony.

A tremor ran through Hashirama's hands as he forced his gaze downward.

Misa.

His daughter-in-law. The woman who had become part of his family.

Her corpse… was in the Raikage's hands.

But something was wrong.

He did not need to ask what had happened. He knew.

Hashirama's sharp medical instincts, the ones he had relied on countless times in battle. The way the man gripped her, the subtle indentations on her skin, the specific marks—marks that only someone with Hashirama's medical knowledge could instantly recognize.

His mind screamed at him to be wrong.

To be hallucinating.

To deny the truth before him.

But there was no denying it.

His hands, once reaching for Tobirama, clenched into trembling fists.

His chest rose and fell in slow, controlled breaths—too controlled. His lips parted, but no words came out, only a soundless gasp as realization set in.

And then, finally—

His gaze locked onto the Raikage.

A predator's gaze.

A God's gaze.

The ground beneath them trembled. The trees withered. The air grew heavy.

The First Hokage had just understood the situation.

And the culprit stood right before him.

There were only a few moments in his life when Hashirama had been truly angry. But this time, he was beyond angry.

He was livid.

All his life, he had pursued peace. Ever since his brothers had died, peace had been his only goal. He and Madara had shed blood and dreams alike in their struggle to build a world without senseless slaughter. Even though they had battled, even though they had torn each other apart, their shared dream had endured, finally giving birth to Konoha.

But despite it all… no matter what era, no matter what sacrifices were made, conflict always remained.

But this time…

"I will give them a war they will never forget."

The Second Raikage, Kinkaku, and Ginkaku, who had been grinning in victory mere moments ago—drunk on their triumph in finally breaking Tobirama—froze in place.

Terror gripped them.

Because the man Tobirama had summoned was not just any shinobi.

He was a legend.

A force of nature.

He was the man people spoke of with reverence and fear, the shinobi whose power stood at the peak of human potential—the one whose strength was regarded as an unattainable summit.

The God of Shinobi.

Hashirama Senju.

And in that moment, with his presence alone, the battlefield itself seemed to tremble. The wind stilled. The trees ceased their rustling. The earth beneath his feet felt heavier as if bowing to its master.

His chakra flared—vast, immeasurable, an ocean of pure power. It rolled off him in crushing waves, suffocating and all-consuming. Even as an Edo Tensei, bound by the limits of a reanimated body, the raw potency of his presence dwarfed everything.

The sky darkened as if nature itself feared the rage of the man who had once tamed the very land with his will.

For the first time in their lives, the so-called beasts of Kumogakure felt what it meant to stand before a true god.

And the god was about to decide their fate.

"Senpō..."

That single word sealed their doom.

The Raikage and his subordinates barely had time to react before the very earth beneath them erupted to life. Massive wooden tendrils burst forth, twisting and writhing with an eerie sentience, their gnarled forms towering over the battlefield like the hands of an angry deity.

"Mokuryū no Jutsu."

A colossal wooden dragon surged from the ground, its serpentine body coiling around Hashirama like a guardian spirit. Its golden eyes gleamed with an ancient fury, and with a deafening roar, it lunged.

The once-mighty warriors of Kumogakure—men who had boasted of their strength, who had crushed lives without remorse—could do nothing but watch in horror as the dragon came for them.

The God of Shinobi had spoken.

And now, judgment had come.

---

A few minutes later, Sasuke regained consciousness.

His body ached, his mind sluggish, but the sharp sting in his abdomen forced him to focus. He looked down, eyes widening at the jagged piece of wood piercing through his stomach—a wound that should have been fatal. And yet… he was still breathing.

Something was off. By all logic, he should be dead. But now wasn't the time to question it.

With sheer willpower, he forced himself upright. His steps were staggering, unsteady, but he pressed forward. No matter his state, no matter how slim the chances were, he had to reach the battlefield.

He knew the truth. Tobirama was likely gone.

But he refused to accept it.

Even if the odds were stacked against him.

Even if all he found were the corpses of his friend and his friend's family.

He had to try.

If nothing else, he would retrieve them.

It was the least he could do before he, too, joined them in death.

His breathing grew ragged, each step fueled by sheer will alone. The jagged bark lodged in his stomach sent waves of agony through his body, and he was certain one of his kidneys had been skewered—destroyed. But stopping wasn't an option. Not yet.

He had to keep going.

When he finally arrived at the battlefield, his breath caught in his throat.

Dumbfounded, he stood frozen, eyes wide with disbelief.

The vast forest that once stood here had been reduced to an unrecognizable wasteland. The land was torn asunder, scarred beyond repair. The air was thick with the lingering scent of blood and scorched earth.

Then, as he forced his weary gaze across the devastation, his shock only deepened.

Not just the Raikage—but his elite Jonin. Kinkaku. Ginkaku. All of them.

Their lifeless bodies lay in a perfect line as if felled by a single, merciless stroke.

His mind screamed for answers.

What the hell happened here…?

But before the question could fully form, his eyes drifted—only to land on something far worse.

A few feet away, crumpled in the dirt, lay the bodies of Misa and Roku.

Gently leaning against each other, even in death, they remained together—an unbroken bond that not even the horrors of battle could sever.

Tobirama's family.

Sasuke staggered forward, his heart pounding in his ears. Their once-proud figures were broken beyond repair, their lifeless faces frozen in agony. The sight sent a chill down his spine.

He wanted to scream.

He wanted to curse the heavens.

But he shoved the emotions down, swallowing the grief that threatened to consume him.

He had only one purpose.

His weary eyes darted frantically across the battlefield, scanning for any sign of his comrade.

Fearing the worst.

Hoping for the best.

His eyes finally locked onto a familiar figure—Tobirama.

Leaning against a tree, motionless.

For a moment, dread gripped Sasuke's heart like a vice, but then—he saw it. The faintest rise and fall of Tobirama's chest. Shallow. Weak. But breathing.

Relief flooded him, only to be immediately crushed by the alarming amount of blood pooling beneath the Senju.

His legs gave out, sending him crashing onto his knees. He didn't care. With trembling hands, he pathetically crawled forward, dragging himself toward his comrade like a desperate man clinging to the last embers of hope.

Reaching Tobirama, he flipped him onto his back, earning a sharp, pained groan from the injured man.

"Shit—just hang in there!" Sasuke rasped, his voice raw with desperation.

With no time to think, he tore apart the largest piece of his already ruined shirt and pressed it tightly against the gaping wound, stuffing it in to slow the bleeding. His hands were slick with warm blood, and his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

He needed to stop the bleeding.

He needed to keep Tobirama alive.

"Oi Tobirama!" Sasuke tapped his cheek, only to see his eyes starting to roll back from severe blood loss so much so that he wasn't even realizing any pain now.

"Stay awake!" he snarled in a whisper, roughly cupping his cheek and shaking him awake.

If he closed his eyes, Sasuke knew they wouldn't open again.

Ever.

He smeared off his blood from the wounds he had himself covered in and brushed it on the back of his palm.

Inu→I→Saru→Tori→Hitsuji

"Ninja Art-" he coughed out blood but didn't let it mind him one bit.

Gathering up all his remaining chakra to the point he felt his consciousness fading from chakra exhaustion, he slammed his palm on the ground and Kanji smeared all over the rubble.

"Summoning!" was all he could whisper before he too fell sideways in a thump and a poof of smoke appeared near the kanji-covered circle by his side.

The little baby ape he had summoned with the last of his chakra, who had a small bo staff on his back and a leather holster to hold some more weapons blinked before his eyes widened upon seeing the state of the two barely breathing Leaf shinobi in front of him.

One being his own summoner…

And bodies all around.

"Khee-Khee!" the little ape hooted hurriedly, fumbling through his holster before unfurling a large scroll and laying down the two battered Leaf shinobi on it, as gently as he could, also taking the other dead bodies with him and all of them disappeared in a poof of smoke.

---

Uzumaki clan compounds…

---

"Mito-sama!"

The urgent call disrupted the tranquil evening as Mito Uzumaki set down her tea with a quiet sigh.

Her lips thinned ever so slightly—not enough to betray irritation, but just enough to signal her displeasure at being disturbed during her rare moments of relaxation.

She placed her hands gracefully on her thighs, preparing to rise, when the source of the commotion burst into the backyard. The man—clearly a chunin, judging by his vest and the labored heaving of his chest—rushed forward as though the Shinigami himself were at his heels.

"Yes?" Her voice, smooth and melodic, carried just a hint of curiosity.

The chunin, still panting, barely managed to blurt out, "My lady, you must make haste… you're needed at the hospital."

One delicate brow arched higher.

Another sigh escaped her lips. So much for a peaceful evening.

Still, they only called for her when a case was beyond anyone else's abilities—an event rare enough to pique her interest.

Having trained extensively in the medical arts during her youth—and as the wife of a man whose mastery in the field remained unmatched—Mito had acquired knowledge that most would trade their very limbs to possess.

"Alright, just let me change," she said smoothly, rising from her seat.

Draped in the loose robes she favored at home, she knew it would be unseemly to appear before others in such attire. With quiet grace, she moved to exchange them for a formal kimono befitting her status.

As she picked up her teacup and the plate of untouched snacks, preparing to set them away in the kitchen, she couldn't ignore the chunin's mounting anxiety. The man looked ready to bite through his own lips in his restless urgency.

The silence stretched, her soft footsteps the only sound in the vast estate—until, at last, the chunin broke.

"My lady, please hurry—"

Mito's sharp gaze snapped to him, pinning him in place like prey beneath a predator's stare.

He swallowed thickly, dread pooling in his gut as he forced out the words he had been so desperate to avoid.

"It's Lord Hokage," he whispered.

A sharp crack echoed through the estate.

CLINK… CLINK…

The crockery slipped from her grasp, shattering into countless fragments against the wooden floor. The air around her seemed to drop several degrees, an unnatural chill settling over the estate.

Mito swallowed thickly, a lump of dread forming in her throat. Her stomach churned, her earlier appetite erased in an instant.

"…What?" Her voice was calm, but the underlying tension made the chunin flinch.

He hesitated, his gaze falling shamefully to the floor as if the weight of his words was too much to bear.

"It's Tobirama-sama, my lady. He and Sasuke-sama…" His voice trailed off as he dared to look up—only to realize he was speaking to empty air.

Mito was already gone.

Her destination burned in her mind like a beacon.

Konoha Hospital...

---

Author's notes :

---

First of all, I sincerely apologize for this very late update. But what can I say… I must be the unluckiest author out there.

Let me clarify something about myself—I'm the kind of guy who, when told "Don't take that road, you'll slip and fall," will still walk right through it, overconfident as ever… and, well, end up slipping and falling.

Something similar happened to me two months ago. I was cleaning my garage with a friend when I came across a hornet's nest. Now, everyone warns you to use safety gear when dealing with those things. But, being me, I decided to swat it instead. The result? A 10-day hospital stay and a month-long temporary blindness.

Thankfully, my friend had the presence of mind to use a fire extinguisher to save me. Otherwise… well, let's not think about that.

After recovering, another challenge hit me—writer's block. Honestly, that was even worse. I had a chapter planned, but I wanted to take a different approach, which led to even more delays.

Anyway, this chapter is my take on the fight.

Enough of my ranting. Now that I'm fully recovered, the next update won't take this long!

Until next time—

Happy Reading!