Hinata: Byakurenden
The Final Battle
The battlefield lay in ruin, quiet in the way only dead things could be.
The last echoes of battle had faded, swallowed by the smothering hush of a world caught between destruction and whatever came next.
Akatsukigakure was already gone. Its temple to the gods reduced to broken stone, its halls buried beneath the weight of fire and war. In the distance, the dying embers still burned, their glow flickering like the final heartbeats of a corpse.
The war was over… or so they had thought.
Obito stood at the edge of the devastation, his robes in tatters, his body battered and bleeding, his heart little more than an open wound. The echoes of the past clung to the edges of his vision. Nagato's betrayal, Sasuke and Naruto standing over the bodies of fallen gods—his children—and Hinata, rising from her own ashes, her new eyes gleaming like a newborn star.
Everything he had built was gone. Everyone who had stood beside him was dead. His goddess—his sun—had been snuffed out by mortal hands.
And yet, he remained.
His one good eye burned as it traced the three figures standing before him—the last enemies, the final obstacles, the ones who had undone everything.
Uzumaki Naruto. The fool who still believed in hope, standing there with the sword of the storm-god he had slain, his will never dimming, never faltering.
Uchiha Sasuke. The one who had overcome his own past, who carried the legacy of Indra in his eyes and the expectations of Itachi on his shoulders.
Hyūga Hinata. The girl who had dared to defy the sun itself and lived. The one who had taken Kali's final gift and emerged as something more.
They were standing. Bloodied, exhausted, but alive. And still in his way.
A lesser man would have accepted defeat. A weaker soul would have surrendered. But Obito had long since abandoned the constraints of mortality, of doubt, of hesitation. He was the last believer. And so long as he still drew breath, so long as he still had faith, he knew she would return.
Sasuke stepped forward, his voice sharp and steady, slicing through the rising tension.
"What's your plan now, Obito?" he asked. "Hinata killed Amaterasu. Susanoo and Tsukuyomi have been banished. Your children—their vessels—are in our custody. Everything you built is gone."
Naruto followed, his tone firmer than ever before.
"Nagato's turned against you. Akatsukigakure is in ruins. The people saw what she did. How your 'goddess' burned them. You think they'll follow you now?"
Obito's expression remained empty. But his lone Sharingan shifted, slowly scanning the three of them, not with malice, but something colder and detached.
"I don't care about Nagato," he said. "Or the others."
Hinata finally spoke to him again, her voice calm but heavy with sorrow. The glow of her Tenseigan flickered, refracting tears she did not let fall.
"Then what do you care about?" she asked quietly. "You've lost everything. Everyone. Isn't that enough? Haven't we all lost enough?" She closed her eyes, briefly thinking of Kali—of her teacher's final words, her vanishing warmth, her sacrifice.
"We don't have to fight anymore," Hinata pleaded. "Please… just surrender. Let this end. No more gods. No more death."
Obito's lips curled, but it wasn't a smile. It was disgust.
"You think I'll surrender?" he spat. "You think I'll just kneel before the very world I've been trying to erase?" He stepped closer to the fire-scarred earth, his hand trembling as it hovered near the ash. "If no one will be part of the new world, then you can all burn with the old one. Along with your mercy… your forgiveness… your hope."
Sasuke's eyes narrowed. "You're delusional."
"No," Obito hissed, his voice cracking. "I'm devoted." He dropped to his knees, shoulders shaking not with weakness, but with faith.
"I saw her," he whispered. "The sun incarnate. Flame given form. Amaterasu-sama…" He bowed his head, his hands pressing deep into the charred soil. "My goddess, my queen, my beloved fire… I am your vessel, your priest, your final ember. Answer me!"
The wind stilled as if the world had begun to hold its breath. The shifting embers that had swirled in the wake of destruction froze midair, caught in an unseen gravity. The scorched ground beneath Obito hummed, faint but undeniable, a deep, thrumming resonance that seemed to rise from the bones of the earth itself.
Something was listening.
A shiver of heat rippled through the silence, unseen yet felt, curling at the edges of existence like the first breath of an unseen sun. The ashes moved. They did not scatter, did not rise on the wind. They shifted inward, pulled together by an invisible force, spiraling into the imprint of where she had once stood.
A whisper of sound too faint to be wind, too heavy to be nothing, coiled through the air, filling the void with an unspoken presence. It was neither voice nor echo, but something older, something waiting.
A single spark ignited. It flared into existence just above the ruins, small, fragile, red-gold and searing. It pulsed like a divine heartbeat breaking through the void. It bloomed and fire tore through the sky. A column of white-hot flame erupted upward, spiraling like a lotus in bloom, its heat so intense that the air itself cracked around it. The clouds overhead parted in an instant, their edges curling into blackened embers.
The light was blinding.
Naruto shouted, Kurama's chakra flaring to shield him. Sasuke moved on instinct, activating Gakidō, his metal arm pulsing with the power to absorb energy. Hinata stumbled back, unable to tear her eyes away from the fire howling like a living thing, searing through existence itself.
From the core of the flame, something stirred. At first, it was just a shadow in the inferno, its form indistinct. But then the flames curved inward, drawn to her, shaping her body as though clothing her in fire.
A figure emerged, one that was feminine, radiant, and young. She was no longer the divine empress who had scorched the heavens, but something new.
The flames began to condense, swirling downward like petals reversing time. The adolescent descended slowly, her bare feet touching the scorched earth without sound. She stepped forward, toes pressing into the burned earth without pain. Her robes billowed like shifting embers, woven from gold and crimson silk that shimmered with the heat of a sun not yet risen. Her hair fell dark and sleek down her back, yet licked at the air like a rising flame.
Her eyes opened and ignited the air once more.
The Gurengan bore the same pale, unearthly glow as the Byakugan, yet where the Byakugan shimmered in shades of lavender, cool and detached, the Gurengan burned. A pale red, like the embers of a dying star waiting to be ignited.
It did not perceive as the Byakugan did, stretching in all directions, or offering an omniscient view of all things at once. Instead, it saw everything that the sun touched. Where the Byakugan unveiled the world in cold precision, the Gurengan bathed it in celestial fire.
Amaterasu was reborn. Not as the goddess who had ruled… but as the goddess who would have her revenge.
Yet before that, she had to reward those who still remained loyal. That was why she turned her gaze not to the trio before her, but to the man who had summoned her.
Obito rose, reverent and shaking. He stepped forward, tears streaking down his cheeks.
"I knew," he whispered. "I always knew. You can't be extinguished. Not by them. Not ever."
Amaterasu reached out, brushing his face with surprising gentleness.
"You alone believed," she said. "When even my flames faded, your devotion remained." She leaned forward, the fire in her Gurengan churning like a living thing, consuming the space between them. Slowly, deliberately, she pressed her fingers to his face, skin to scar, before sliding to the faded iris where his Sharingan had once been.
A dead eye, its vision given to Amaterasu's father, Izanagi, in exchange for altering Obito's fated death.
Obito did not flinch, did not resist, but only knelt deeper, like a man kneeling before the pyre that would consume him.
"For that…" her voice rumbled, shifting and deepening not in a whisper, but a decree. "I will grant you my blessing." Light flared and Obito screamed.
Amaterasu's touch was not mercy, but annihilation. It was the sun burning through waxen flesh, remolding sinew and bone with all the patience of a wildfire. The charred remains of his ruined eye did not regrow, it was melted, reshaped, and ignited into something else entirely.
The veins along his temple blackened, burning through like searing cracks in fragile clay. The right side of his face, already scarred from past sacrifice, charred deeper, flesh peeling, branding him with devotion made manifest.
His breath came in ragged gasps as his body spasmed, one shoulder twitching unnaturally, his arm jerking as though something inside him was trying to escape.
A slow, molten glow began to seep from the hollow of his skull, spilling down his cheek in thin, flickering streams. It wasn't blood, but divine embers. When his breath finally stilled, his trembling hands clenching against the ruined ground, Obito lifted his head.
And the new eye opened. Not a Sharingan. Not an Uchiha eye. Something else. A Gurengan of his very own.
For a moment, he simply stared ahead, his vision unfocused, adjusting to the new perspective. And then, slowly, his lips curled. He laughed. Soft, breathless, a rasp of something both euphoric and broken.
"My goddess," he whispered. His voice was hoarse and raw, half-mad with conviction. "Together, we cannot lose."
Meanwhile, just as Amaterasu's form had fully taken shape, Hinata, Naruto, and Sasuke realized how dire their situation truly was.
Naruto blinked, squinting through the heat-haze of divine fire, his eyes tracing the figure that had emerged from the inferno. She was smaller. Younger. No longer the overwhelming force that had scorched the heavens, but something… less.
"Wait—" he pointed, his voice edged with disbelief, but also, just maybe, a flicker of hope. "Why the heck is she our age now?" Because after everything, all the gods, betrayals, and sacrifices, he couldn't accept that they were back to square one. All their efforts had to have been for something.
Hinata didn't answer right away, her body not yet used to the weight of her new sight. But the pieces were falling into place, revealing themselves not as scattered thoughts, but as undeniable truth. Her voice wavered, but only for a moment. Then, steadied by certainty, she spoke.
"Because… her power comes from worship."
Naruto's brow furrowed.
"Worship?"
Hinata's Tenseigan flickered beneath her bangs, her vision shifting, expanding, no longer bound by mere chakra or form. She could see it now, woven into the fabric of the world itself.
"She exists because people believe she does," she continued, the words forming as she realized them, each syllable carving itself into understanding. "The more faith she has, the stronger she becomes. And after everything she did—" Her voice dropped, realization tightening around her ribs. "Most of her believers are gone."
Yet still she had returned.
Hinata's gaze snapped to Obito. He was still kneeling before the flame, his expression rapturous, his body trembling, as if holding back tears. As if the weight of a world that had rejected him meant nothing, because here, before him, standing reborn was proof that he had never been wrong.
He had never stopped believing and that had been enough.
Naruto tilted his head. A small, hopeful smirk tugged at his lips.
"So… that really does mean she's weaker, right?" He cracked his knuckles, forcing confidence into his stance, clinging to any advantage he could find. "That's good. We can finish this."
But Sasuke didn't share his optimism.
"And what strength do we have left?" he asked, his voice quiet, cold, and cutting. Naruto froze, his grin withering before it could take root. Sasuke's gaze never wavered from Amaterasu, watching as her flames coiled tighter, her presence thickening the air with divine weight. "We've burned through our chakra." The truth was a blade, and he pressed it deep. "We're still standing… but only barely."
Hinata swallowed, hands curling into fists. Her body still felt like smoke, like a ghost caught between worlds. She could see too much, understand too little, and yet one thing was clear.
They had nothing left.
The weight of the war, of everything that had been lost, everything that had been sacrificed coiled around her like iron chains, dragging at her limbs. Her bones still felt like ash. The aftershock of opening the Eighth Gate lingered in every cell, her legs threatening to give way beneath her.
And worse than the pain, worse than the exhaustion, was the truth she could not ignore. That these eyes weren't meant for her. They had been given, not earned. A gift born from Kali's final sacrifice, her last act, her last choice. And that weight was suffocating.
"I…" Her voice wavered. "I don't even know how to use these eyes." She clenched her fists, shoulders tightening, voice raw. "I can't protect you if I don't even know how."
And that truth cut deeper than any blade.
Because if she failed now, if she hesitated and faltered, then what had been the point of Kali's sacrifice? What had been the point of all of it? In that moment something within Hinata cracked open. For she wasn't just Kali's reincarnation. She wasn't just the inheritor of another's power.
She was Hyūga Hinata.
The girl who had stood before Neji and defied the fate of their clan. The warrior that had descended from the moon and tore through the battlefield of the Fourth War. The one who had fought gods, died, and risen again not to repeat the past, but to forge her own path.
Her fingers curled as resolve took root, fierce and unshaken. Kali's gift had been sacrifice, and that was why Hinata's answer would be strength. She lifted her head, Tenseigan gleaming with a light all her own.
As if sensing her resolve, Amaterasu finally turned to Hinata. And for the first time, she truly looked at her.
Not as an enemy. Not even as a mortal, but as a reflection of a possibility she had once glimpsed. One she had dared, in her final moments, to consider. When Hinata struck her down, when the thousand cherry blossoms bloomed and her form unraveled into embers and light… she had felt it.
The first touch of impermanence. The brief, whisper-thin moment where she had thought that perhaps, just perhaps, there was something beautiful about it.
To be mortal. To live and die like the cherry blossoms, blooming only for a moment before fading.
Had she been wrong? Had she mistaken devotion for love? Had she confused the weight of worship with something greater? The thought had haunted her… until she heard him.
Uchiha Obito.
His prayers, his voice had reached through the dark, through the cold, through the silence where even gods should have faded. And he had called her back. Because he had never doubted her. Because his devotion had not waned, even in her absence. And so long as she had that, so long as she had him, how could she have been wrong?
A mortal life, fleeting and fragile, was not worth losing eternity for. Not when eternity meant devotion. Not when it meant she could be worshiped forever. She would not make the mistake of doubting that again.
Amaterasu's pale-red eyes softened not with mercy, but with understanding.
"You," she said, her voice directed at Hinata not with hatred, but with clarity. "You almost made me forget who I was." Her voice did not burn. It rang, steady as the dawn. "For a moment, I faltered. But I see now… that was your final gift. For only now can I truly be myself without doubting my path."
Her expression sharpened not into wrath, but something resolute. She lifted her hand, palm extended upward and black fire bloomed. It curled around her fingers, writhing like the heart of the sun, searing the air in twisting, hungry tongues of obsidian.
"So allow me to give my gratitude."
A torrent of black fire howled toward them, swallowing the air with merciless speed. It did not simply burn, but devoured, consumed, and erased everything before it. The ground beneath them cracked, the very stone blackening and vanishing as the flames carved their path of obliteration.
Naruto gritted his teeth, what was left of Kurama's power flaring around him. Sasuke's metal arm flashed, Rinnegan twisting space to react. But before either could move, Hinata saw what it was she had to do. The world unfolded before her not in color, not in chakra, but in something deeper, something woven into existence itself.
The Tenseigan blazed.
A pulse of brilliant cyan light rippled from her core, swirling outward in radiant waves. Her hair lifted, strands weightless as power surged through her limbs, weightlessly, fluid, and infinite.
The change was instant.
Her lavender robes shifted to a jade-green, flowing like liquid silk, their edges kissed with a soft, argent glow that shimmered between silver and gold. The fabric seemed weightless, its movement not bound by the wind but by the pulse of chakra itself, shifting in waves of luminous radiance.
Intricate obsidian etchings traced the flowing patterns of spirals and trigrams, their designs shifting like reflections on rippling water. They pulsed in harmony with her Tenseigan, glowing softly, not as fire, but as something ancient, something woven into the fabric of fate itself.
Beneath the glow, her skin shimmered with divine chakra, subtle markings forming across her arms and legs that were neither seals nor scars, but echoes of the power she now wielded.
Behind her, radiant and absolute, were Nine Gudōdama hovering in perfect symmetry, pitch-black spheres of absolute force, rotating slowly, the space around them distorting as they pulsed with raw potential. They were neither light nor shadow, neither solid nor fluid, each one a paradox unto itself, the power of creation and destruction, gathered in her wake.
Hinata's hands moved without hesitation, as if she knew exactly what it was she had to do. She grasped the Gudōdama before her, and let it expand in her palms. It pulsed, trembling with power as she spun it, shaping it with her will. The air itself twisted around it, silver winds coalescing, spiraling outward like the birth of a new star. Hinata raised her hand and released it.
"Ginrin Tensei Baku!"
The Gudōdama detonated in a cyclone of blinding silver that erupted forth, roaring like the wrath of a celestial storm. The spiraling winds met the black flames head-on, not merely clashing, but unraveling them.
The vortex tore through the darkness, swallowing it whole, breaking it apart at its foundation. Black fire scattered into nothingness, the very decree that had created it overwritten by a force beyond its dominion.
And when the storm finally ceased they were all untouched.
The battlefield stood frozen, the last remnants of black fire curling into nothingness, the silver mist of Hinata's storm lingering like an afterimage upon the world itself. The earth beneath them, once ravaged by divine flames, now lay untouched, as though rewritten by her will alone.
At the center of it all, Hinata stood, her breathing steady, the glow of the Tenseigan settling into something calm, absolute, and unshaken.
She had done it.
Sasuke's metal fingers twitched, one of the numerous compartments in his arm only seconds away from activating, only to find the command no longer pertinent. His Rinnegan pulsed, struggling to reconcile what had just unfolded before him. His mind fought against instinct, against knowledge, against the very logic of chakra itself.
That had been Amaterasu's black flames. Fire that could never be extinguished, never be denied. Yet Hinata had not simply countered them, she had unmade them.
"…Impossible." The word left him before he could stop it, quiet, and sharp. His grip tightened, his eyes flicking from the remnants of her silver typhoon to the nine Gudōdama that still hovered in perfect harmony behind her. The energy they radiated was different, unrestrained, yet composed.
And yet, "Heh. Knew you could do it."
Sasuke turned, incredulous, as Naruto just grinned.
The blond straightened from his stance, shaking the tension from his arms as if the whole thing had been expected, almost as if it was obvious.
His sage-orange eyes flicked toward Hinata, his grin easy, open, and genuine.
"Man, you really are incredible." He rubbed the back of his head, voice light and proud. "Wasn't even worried."
Hinata blinked, still trying to come to grips with what she had done herself.
It was ridiculous. Insane, even. She had just annihilated an act of divine destruction. Erased a god's decree. And yet with just a few words, Naruto made it feel as if she had simply knocked down a training dummy. As if she had always been capable of such a thing, and all she had to do was prove it.
Heat rose to her face, flustered embarrassment twisting in her chest. She tried to form words but failed, her heartbeat suddenly louder than it should have been.
Naruto chuckled.
"What? It's true." He leaned slightly, raising an eyebrow. "You're strong, Hinata. Always have been." The words shouldn't have affected her so much. But they did. Her fingers curled slightly, the glow of her chakra wavered, not in weakness, but in something warmer.
But before she could say anything, "Blasphemy!" The word cut through the air like a blade. Obito's snarl shattered the fragile moment, his body trembling not with fear, but rage.
"You dare…?" His newly-formed Gurengan burned, searing with fury, his entire form shaking as if barely able to contain the sheer offense of what had just transpired. "You dare stand against the flame of Amaterasu? You think you have the right to defy her decree?!" His voice cracked, his breath ragged, but his faith did not waver.
Hinata had done the unthinkable. Not just defying a goddess' power, but denying it entirely. Obito had witnessed many things, but never had he seen something so utterly sacrilegious. He stepped forward, but before he could take another breath a hand barred his path.
Amaterasu had not moved. Had not reacted in wrath, nor in scorn. She simply lifted her hand in a silent decree. The weight in the air shifted, the divine fire around her wavering. For since her revival, she had not looked upon Hyūga Hinata as a mortal.
She looked upon her as an equal.
Something that had not happened since her childhood friend, Kaguya, and her had met all those millennia ago.
"…I knew it," she murmured, her voice absent of mockery or cruelty. "You really are just as she was."
Obito's breath caught. "Amaterasu-sama," he whispered, voice hoarse, pleading. But she did not look at him.
She stepped forward and offered her hand.
"Come." The word was not a demand. It was an invitation. "We will settle this," Amaterasu said, her voice like the turning of an era, the shifting of worlds, "not as gods. Not as mortals."
Her fingers curled, the space between them humming with unseen tension.
"But as two individuals."
The air shifted.
Hinata felt it before it even happened.
The Tenseigan pulsed, not merely showing her the world, but revealing its rhythm, the ebb and flow of motion, the silent language of battle written in the currents between them. She could see it. The way Amaterasu's weight shifted, the subtle shift of her stance, the moment before movement even began.
The goddess was about to strike.
And she wouldn't wait.
There was no time.
Hinata exhaled sharply, eyes widening as the realization hit her all at once. "—I'm sorry." Naruto and Sasuke barely had time to react before she stepped forward, turning to them both. "I'll handle her." Her voice was firm, no hesitation, no doubt. "But I can't fight her and keep Obito away at the same time. I'll leave him to you."
Naruto scoffed lightly, cracking his knuckles.
"Tch. Just as I like it." His grin was sharp, electric, the storm of battle already rising in his chest. "Go kick her ass."
Sasuke let out a quiet breath, exasperated, but resigned. His fingers curled slightly at his side, his Rinnegan narrowing at Obito, who still stood with his newly gifted Gurengan burning in its socket.
"…Fine," he muttered. His voice was cold, but his intent was clear. "I have a score to settle anyway."
Hinata barely had time to nod before she was forced to move. At the exact same moment Amaterasu did. The air cracked as the two figures blurred in perfect synchrony, perfect timing. They met in a single Jyūken strike, palms slamming against one another, force against force.
A maelstrom ignited between them, the impact unleashing a roaring cyclone of wind and force, chakra lashing out in a spiral of jade and crimson. The blast howled as it struck the earth, shattering the ground, carving a canyon into the crater's edge.
The sheer momentum of the clash launched them both.
Hinata and Amaterasu's bodies were carried away, two streaks of light, one verdant silver, one obsidian fire, vanishing across the ruined landscape, leaving only the sound of wind and the scent of scorched air in their wake.
Obito took a step to follow them, his gaze locked onto the horizon where his goddess and her challenger had vanished in a blaze of jade and black fire. His breath was unsteady, the aftershock of his transformation still burning through his veins, but none of it mattered. Only she mattered.
"Amaterasu-sama!" His voice rang across the ruined battlefield, raw with devotion. He moved to follow, chakra coiling in preparation to propel him forward.
A crack of thunder split the sky.
The ground trembled beneath him as a rolling mass of storm clouds surged forth, dark and thick, their edges flashing with jagged veins of electric blue. The air grew heavy, the scent of ozone biting deep. A wall of swirling tempest carved its way across his path, halting his advance, wind whipping at his tattered robes.
Obito's Gurengan and Sharingan eyes snapped toward the source.
Where Naruto stood at the eye of the storm. The storm sword was drawn, its blade thrumming with barely restrained power, arcs of lightning flickering along its edge. His grip was firm, unwavering, and his sage eyes burned with quiet fury.
Obito's hands clenched into fists, his breath quickening.
"You," he seethed, voice trembling with rage. "How dare you wield that sword?" His eyes burned, his entire frame rigid with fury. "That blade belonged to a god—one that had descended into my son! And you defile it with your hands?"
Naruto didn't flinch against Obito's wrath, only exhaling from the exertion taken to swing the sword, his grip tightening around the hilt.
"You're one to talk." It was Sasuke that responded instead, his eyes locked onto Obito, sharp as a vulture's. "You, who would use the eyes of our clan members that you killed on that night."
Obito sneered, his rage curdling into something sharper.
"You think you can stop me? Amaterasu-sama has blessed me with power beyond either of you, even if you weren't barely standing. I mean look at yourselves—look at the state you're in. You're nothing but dying embers, flickering in the wake of a rising sun."
Naruto tilted his head, something unreadable flashing in his gaze. Something about it made Obito hesitate, his silence strange and unsettling. Then, slowly, he spoke.
"You know… Kakashi-sensei once told us that I remind him of you." His voice was measured, almost thoughtful. "He said we were alike."
Obito stiffened.
Naruto's expression didn't change. If anything, his eyes grew softer. That was what made it worse.
"But I don't see it." His tone was almost clinical, almost disappointed. "Not anymore."
Obito's fingers twitched, his lips parting as if to speak, but Naruto didn't stop.
"I only see a loser," he said simply. The word cut. "I see a man who's so blind with devotion, he doesn't even try anymore." His fingers flexed over the storm sword's hilt, lightning flickering between his knuckles. "You gave up before the fight even started. You lost the moment you decided to follow instead of lead."
Obito's breath hitched.
Then he snapped.
"Katon: Great Fireball Jutsu!" His hands flew through a blur of seals, the earth beneath him igniting with a roar as he unleashed a great fireball, a spiraling inferno bursting forth from his lips. But even as the flames surged forward, his Mangekyō Sharingan flashed and the fire blackened.
The spiraling mass of obsidian flames twisted, writhing like a living thing, tainted by the will of Amaterasu itself. The moment it left his lips, it was no longer a fireball, but a swallowing force of destruction, divine flames layered atop mortal fury, growing, expanding, racing toward Naruto and Sasuke with no intent but to consume.
Naruto's grip on his sword tightened, no time to hesitate.
The storm roared as he swung the sword once more, arcs of lightning crackling across the battlefield. Wind surged forward in a rolling tempest, colliding head-on with the infernal fireball. The two forces met with an ear-splitting crash, spiraling into one another, devouring each other in a chaotic maelstrom of raw energy.
A shockwave tore through the crater, dust and debris rocketing into the air as a blinding surge of light and fire consumed the space between them. The sky itself seemed to shake, the force rattling through every shattered stone and fractured piece of earth.
Naruto dropped to one knee, his breath ragged. His vision swam, muscles trembling under the strain of the storm sword's power. It wasn't just exhaustion, it was a drain. Every time he swung that damn blade, it felt like it was taking a piece of him with it.
"Shit…" He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stay upright.
Deep within him, Kurama stirred, his voice gruff but firm.
"That sword's tearing through your reserves, Naruto. You're not gonna last much longer at this rate."
Naruto exhaled sharply, feeling his limbs start to go numb. Damn it… He wasn't done yet.
"Listen." Kurama's voice was softer this time, steady but weighted. "I'm giving you the last of my chakra. But after that—I'm done. It's gonna knock me out. You need to finish this with just that."
Naruto exhaled, eyes closing for half a heartbeat as he felt the familiar warmth of Kurama's chakra beginning to flow through him. He understood what that meant. When Kurama woke up—if he woke up—this battle would already be over.
"I got it." A small, tired smile tugged at his lips. "Guess I'll see you on the other side, then."
Kurama chuckled lowly, his presence flickering like the last embers of a dying fire.
"Yeah. See you after, kid."
And with that, the great beast's chakra pulsed one final time as the last surge of energy flowed into him, crimson light flickering faintly over his skin before settling into a steady, controlled burn. His exhaustion didn't fade, but it was held at bay.
Kurama's presence then disappeared completely, retreating into a deep, silent slumber.
At the same time, Sasuke took a slow breath, his metal fingers flexing. The Rinnegan in his eye pulsed, absorbing trace amounts of chakra still lingering in the air from the clashing attacks. It wasn't much, but it was something. Every drop counted now.
The dust cloud from the explosion still shrouded the battlefield, the space ahead of them a swirling haze of gray and flickering embers. They couldn't see Obito, but he was there.
Waiting.
Sasuke and Naruto met each other's gaze. They both knew. No words were needed. They were brothers, after all. They didn't have the energy for another clash of jutsu. No more storms. No more help from beyond. It was just them and their wits.
As if of one mind, they pushed forward—Straight into the dust.
Straight toward Obito.
"Mokuton: Great Forest Emergence!"
The earth rumbled, a crack splitting the ruined ground, and from its depths, a surge of twisting vines exploded forth. Thick, gnarled tendrils of wood erupted like monstrous serpents, stretching toward the heavens, their size rivaling buildings as they expanded outward in all directions. The air filled with the scent of freshly turned earth, the groan of living wood twisting unnaturally fast, fueled by divine chakra.
The wall of greenery surged toward them like an unrelenting tide, thick roots splitting through the battlefield with the force of an advancing army.
Naruto and Sasuke jumped without hesitation, weaving into the thicket of Obito's jutsu, their movements a perfect harmony of instinct and experience.
They ran along the massive vines, their feet barely touching the twisting bark before leaping onto the next. The world became a blur of green and motion, a battlefield of shifting terrain that would have overwhelmed anyone else. Naruto ducked low, slipping under a sudden tangle of branches, the storm sword humming in his grip. Sasuke twisted midair, flipping between gaps in the growing forest, his metal arm barely grazing the bark before launching himself off another vine. They leapt over jagged roots, spun between the closing gaps, their paths intertwining like a perfect dance of offense and survival.
Naruto was the first to break through. He burst out of the canopy, storm blade crackling, his momentum carrying him straight toward Obito.
Just like them, Obito was running low on chakra. His displays of fire and wood had been more than just attacks. They were bluffs, attempts to intimidate, to push them back, and to buy himself a moment to regain control. But it hadn't worked. They hadn't faltered. They hadn't slowed. They had charged straight for him, undeterred and unshaken.
That was fine.
It just meant there was nothing left to do but cut them down where they stood.
He lifted his hand, and the Gurengan pulsed. A spear of pure black flame ignited into existence, stretching long and jagged, its form twisting like a lance forged from shadows themselves. Divine fire licked hungrily at its edges, writhing like a living thing, the air around it distorting with sheer, unbearable heat.
Obito's grip tightened, and the flames bit back.
The black fire seared his own flesh, charring his fingers where they met the shaft, but he didn't waver. The pain was inconsequential—no, it was a gift. If these flames were Amaterasu's, then he would accept them without hesitation. If it was her will that they burned, then let them burn him first.
He spun the spear once, the flames trailing in an arc of death.
"Come." His voice was steady, almost welcoming.
Naruto didn't slow. The storm sword roared to life in his hands, wind and thunder coiling around its edge. And as Obito thrust his war-spear forward, Naruto swung his blade down, divine fire and the fury of the storm colliding in a clash that split the heavens apart.
A shockwave blasted outward, uprooting vines and sending burning embers scattering like falling stars. Naruto grit his teeth as he pushed forward, but Obito twisted his spear, redirecting the impact and sending Naruto flying back.
Naruto barely had time to register the sky above him before he slammed his feet down midair, using the last vestiges of his chakra to force himself into a recovery. He skidded back along a thick, winding branch, breath ragged, but his grip on the storm sword remained firm.
Sasuke closed the gap next, his mechanical arm shifting mid-dash, the panels along the forearm splitting open, and reshaping. The transformation was seamless, his arm extending outward, a long, jagged blade emerging from its structure, forged not from steel but from compressed chakra and microfilament wiring.
Obito barely had time to adjust before Sasuke was upon him, his chakra blade slicing in a brutal arc. The war-spear twisted, intercepting the strike at the last second, the two weapons clashing with a sound like cracking thunder. Sparks danced between them, silver and black entwining.
A moment later, Naruto was back in a streak of motion, the storm sword slashing low, forcing Obito to leap backward. Sasuke followed instantly, his blade cutting a ruthless diagonal as soon as Obito touched the ground. The spear spun, barely parrying. A reverse swing from Naruto followed immediately after.
The battle descended into a maelstrom of steel and fire.
Naruto and Sasuke moved as if they had trained for this moment their entire lives. Their attacks weaved together, an unspoken rhythm dictating every step, every strike. They did not hesitate, did not falter—one attacking high as the other struck low, one feinting left as the other went right.
Obito countered with everything he had, his spear a blur of black flame, spinning in wide, defensive arcs, the heat burning through the air with every swing. He adjusted between offense and defense, thrusting the spear forward, pivoting just in time to block Naruto's downward swing, only to find Sasuke already closing in, blade aimed for his ribs.
He barely managed to parry. A kick from Naruto sent him staggering. A stab from Sasuke nearly punctured his shoulder.
Obito twisted, swinging the spear in a sweeping arc to create distance, forcing them back. His breaths were heavy, but his stance remained solid, grip on the spear tightening.
Yet Naruto and Sasuke weren't faring much better.
Every movement demanded everything they had left. Their bodies screamed with exhaustion, muscles locking up, lungs burning as they pushed themselves beyond their limits again and again. There was no room for error, no time for hesitation. One misstep, one miscalculation, and the delicate balance would shatter, leaving them open to a counterattack.
Naruto's grip on the storm sword trembled, the weapon's weight feeling heavier with every swing, but he kept moving, kept striking. Sasuke's mechanical arm whirred faintly, the strain of rapid adjustments taxing even its advanced design, his mind laser-focused on every flicker of movement, every shift in Obito's stance.
The battle had become something raw and desperate, like a test of endurance or sheer willpower. Obito exhaled sharply, his own stamina fraying, but his faith, his devotion, did not falter. And neither did they.
Sparks flew as their weapons clashed again, Naruto and Sasuke pressing forward with relentless, unyielding force. The storm sword carved through the air, meeting the black war-spear in a dazzling clash of lightning and flame. Obito twisted, his spear a blur of motion as he deflected the downward slice from Naruto, only to pivot just in time to block Sasuke's blade from his left.
The three figures moved like streaks of light against the backdrop of the ruined battlefield, their strikes coming faster, sharper, more desperate. Every move carried the weight of dwindling reserves, each breath labored, each step heavier than the last.
Then Obito shifted.
With a sharp twist of his body, he caught Sasuke's blade in the crook of his spear, dragging it forward before slamming the base of the weapon into Sasuke's chest. The force sent Sasuke flying back, skidding along the ground, his metal arm grinding against the cracked stone as he struggled to slow his momentum.
Naruto took the opening. He surged forward, the storm sword crackling as he swung with everything he had left. Obito turned just in time to see the blade coming. But he was too slow.
Steel cut through flesh.
Obito's body split apart, severed cleanly at the waist. His upper half fell backward, his spear slipping from his fingers, his mismatched eyes widening in silent shock. The black flames of his weapon sputtered, the divine fire losing its form as it faded into the air.
He hit the ground with a hollow thud and for a moment, nothing moved.
Naruto's breath came ragged and uneven, his grip tightening around the storm sword. His vision blurred at the edges, exhaustion settling like lead in his limbs. But it was done. He had won. Relief flickered across his face, hesitant, almost disbelieving.
Obito was dead.
"Naruto!" Sasuke's voice cut through the air, a sharp, urgent crack. Naruto barely had time to react before he felt it.
The air behind him warped. A chill crept down his spine. Something wasn't right. The silence stretched a fraction too long. The ground where Obito's body had fallen was empty.
Naruto spun on instinct, storm sword raising, but this time it was him that was already too late.
Obito stood behind him. Whole. Unscathed. His war-spear already thrust forward, its black flames licking hungrily at the air, aimed straight for Naruto's heart. His left Sharingan, the one that had held Amaterasu's boon, was now blind—his iris faded, lifeless, spent.
He had used Izanagi again.
And Naruto had fallen for it, about to pay the ultimate price.
"Amenotejikara!"
Space twisted. Naruto felt the shift, the sudden wrenching sensation of displacement as Sasuke took his place. And the war-spear drove clean through his abdomen.
The sound of flesh tearing filled the air.
Naruto's stomach dropped, his breath caught in his throat as he stared in horror at the sight before him.
Sasuke stood where he had been only a moment ago.
Obito's spear was buried deep in his stomach, the black flames of Amaterasu licking hungrily at the wound. The searing heat twisted the air around it, the embers writhing like living things, devouring the flesh they touched.
For a long, agonizing heartbeat, nothing moved.
Then Sasuke exhaled a slow, shuddering breath. His fingers twitched, his left hand instinctively reaching toward the spear impaling him, as if to grasp it, to tear it free—but it didn't move. The pain was white-hot, a fire spreading from his core outward, burning through his veins. Every pulse of agony felt like it was trying to consume him whole.
Yet despite it, his expression barely shifted. His Rinnegan gleamed, sharp and unshaken, locked onto his mortal enemy.
Obito smirked, his single Gurengan glinting with something close to satisfaction. His gaze was steady, but there was something else there. Something deep, something long-held, something that went beyond the battlefield, beyond the war.
"You have no idea how long I've waited to do this," Obito murmured, his grip flexing slightly, pressing the spear just a fraction deeper. He leaned in, his voice low, almost cruel. "If not for Itachi, I would have killed you the night I massacred your clan." His single eye burned, his smirk widening. "You were just a child. Just another Uchiha. And I would have cut you down without a second thought."
Sasuke's lips curled not in pain, but in amusement. A breathless, tired scoff.
"Tch… Is that so?" His voice was hoarse, strained, but laced with dry sarcasm. "In truth, I also wanted to be the one to finish you off..."
Obito's smirk twitched. "What?"
Slowly, deliberately, Sasuke exhaled, his expression shifting into something sharper, something knowing. His eyes flicked past Obito—toward the figure already moving behind them.
Naruto.
"…But I guess this is fine."
Sasuke's grip tightened, and his Rinnegan pulsed. No words needed to be spoken. The exhaustion, the weight of every battle, every scar, every moment leading up to this—it was all there in their eyes. And in that single glance, the answer was clear.
Naruto nodded. Sasuke nodded back.
This was it. The last blow.
There would be no coming back from this, because this time, for sure, Obito had no more chances. Sasuke turned his gaze back to Obito, his expression hardening.
"Shinra Tensei!"
The force of repulsion exploded outward.
Obito barely had a second to react before he was blasted back, ripped from the ground, the war-spear wrenched from Sasuke's gut as he was launched straight toward Naruto—who was already jumping forward to meet him, storm sword raised, eyes burning with the fury of a finishing blow.
"You—" Obito's breath hitched, fury overtaking realization. He had burned through both his Sharingan. There was no more Izanagi left. No escape.
"Shut up already!" Naruto snapped.
The blade flashed.
For a moment, for the briefest instant, time stretched into infinity.
And in that instant, Obito saw everything.
He was back at the Academy, squinting against the sunlight as Rin smiled at him for the first time. He remembered the way she laughed when he tripped over his own feet during a spar, the way her presence had made the endless uphill battle of being an Uchiha who wasn't naturally gifted feel worth it.
Her smile had saved him.
Then he was older, standing over her lifeless body, blood blooming across the fabric of her clothes, spilling between his fingers.
He had realized then—he was in hell.
But then there was light. A different light than the sun that had warmed him in childhood. A fire that burned, but did not consume. That enveloped, but did not destroy.
Amaterasu.
She had reached him when he had nothing left. Had lifted him from the void, had given his life meaning again. Not just as her prophet. Not just as her consort. But as something else. Something deeper.
She had allowed him to remember love again.
She had made him a husband.
And for a brief, fleeting moment, she had made him a father.
He saw them. His children. Not gods—not yet—but small, fragile, alive. His sons had been too young to speak, but their tiny hands had grasped at Obito's fingers, trusting, warm.
He had wanted to see them grow.
If only he hadn't—
The thought never finished.
His vision lurched, spinning, the ground rushing toward him at an unnatural angle.
A final exhale left his lips, a breath stolen before words could form. His head tumbled through the air, black flames still licking at the edges of his vision.
Then, silence.
Obito's body slumped, the war-spear vanishing into smoke and the weight of the Shinra Tensei fading as his head hit the ground.
This time there was no coming back.
Naruto stood over the fallen body, his breath uneven, every muscle in his body coiled tight, ready and expecting. Obito had escaped death so many times before. He had warped away, rewritten reality, cheated fate at every turn. Even now, as his severed head lay motionless in the dirt, as his body finally collapsed, Naruto couldn't quite shake the instinct to brace for some last, desperate trick.
But this time Obito didn't get back up, for he was well and truly dead.
Naruto exhaled, but it wasn't relief that filled his chest. If anything, it was something heavier. Something far more complicated. He didn't know Obito. Not really. Their fight had been about so much more than just the two of them. Obito had been a villain to Hinata—had torn her world apart, and had been the hand behind Amaterasu's rise.
And yet…
Once, a long time ago, he had been his dad's student.
Uchiha Obito. A boy who had dreams, who had people he loved, who had fought for Konoha, for his friends, for something more.
And this was how it ended.
A corpse in the dirt, blind and broken.
Naruto clenched his fists, his wooden knuckles creaking around the hilt of the storm sword.
How did it come to this? How did a person who was supposed to be a hero end up like this?
Naruto didn't know when he had lowered his gaze or when the storm in his chest had settled into something quieter, something more solemn. But he knew one thing.
He would never let this happen to himself.
No matter how much pain he endured, no matter what burdens he carried, he would never allow himself to fall like this. He would never let devotion, or grief, or the weight of expectations blind him the way it had blinded Obito.
For this was what happened when you gave up. When you stopped believing in anything but loss.
And Naruto would never let himself become that.
Not ever.
Shaking the thought loose, he turned and rushed forward, his breath still ragged, the weight of the battle pressing down on him all at once. His knees hit the dirt beside Sasuke, skidding slightly, his hands hovering uncertainly over the wound in his friend's abdomen.
"Hey—hey, you good?" His voice was tight, edged with lingering adrenaline, the aftershock of everything still thrumming through his limbs. He didn't know what to do, where to touch, whether to help or just stay back and let Sasuke handle it himself.
The spear had vanished the moment Obito's body had fallen, the black flames flickering into nothingness like a dying ember. But the wound it left behind was real—jagged, torn flesh, darkened by the last remnants of scorching pain.
Sasuke's metal arm whirred softly, the sound almost too quiet against the silence that followed the battle's end. Thin filaments extended from his fingertips, weaving through muscle and sinew, stitching the injury with the same brutal efficiency he applied to everything else in his life.
Naruto watched, still trying to catch his breath, waiting for some flicker of pain, some grimace, some wince. But Sasuke's face remained composed, his expression grim but steady.
"I'll live," he finally muttered. His voice was tight, clipped with effort, but not weak. The muscles in his jaw flexed as he exhaled, concentration carved into every movement. "But I don't think I'll be standing anytime soon."
Naruto let out a breath of his own, slower this time. The tension in his shoulders finally loosened, unraveling like a cord pulled too tight for too long. He rocked back, exhaustion seeping deep into his bones, until his arms gave out beneath him and he collapsed onto his back beside Sasuke.
The sky stretched endlessly above them, vast and open, the deep blue of the afternoon unmarred except for the thinning remnants of dissipating storm clouds. The sun hung high, golden and unyielding, while opposite it, pale and ghostly, the moon lingered a silent witness to all that had transpired. The air was thick with the scent of scorched earth and a battle already fading into memory.
Naruto let out a rough huff, voice lighter than it had any right to be.
"Well…" He shut his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching up just slightly. "At least this time, it's finally over."
Sasuke's breath hitched slightly, but then he let out a quiet scoff.
"Idiot," he muttered, his voice rough with exhaustion. He turned his head slightly, the movement slow, deliberate, every muscle aching. "You do remember that Hinata's still fighting Amaterasu, don't you?"
Naruto's eyes drifted shut, the tension in his body unwinding as the weight of battle finally began to settle. A slow, tired smile pulled at his lips, one that was neither forced nor uncertain.
"Yeah," he murmured, voice quieter now, as if the wind might carry it away. "But this time… it's alright."
Sasuke's gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, something unreadable flickering in his expression. But Naruto didn't open his eyes. He just breathed, slow and steady, the storm within him finally stilling.
"She'll win," he said simply, his voice steady. "The woman I fell in love with never gives up. That's just who she is."