"Ah."
Jiraiya's response to Hanzo's words carried a weight of quiet acceptance rather than dismissal. The simple acknowledgment spoke volumes about the complex emotions swirling within the Toad Sage's heart. Even though he and Orochimaru had managed to defeat the legendary shinobi through combined effort and tactical superiority, the name "Hanzo of the Salamander" would forever remain carved into the souls of all three Sannin.
It was through Hanzo's recognition, after all, that the title of "Three Legendary Sannin" had first been spoken and gradually transformed into ninja world legend. That day in the rain-soaked battlefields of the Land of Rain, when three young Konoha shinobi had managed to survive against the demigod himself, history had been written in blood and determination.
But legends, Jiraiya reflected as he watched the sealed form of his former nemesis, were never truly immutable. Just as this demigod had been surpassed by later generations, so too would the current generation eventually give way to those who came after. The natural order of shinobi advancement demanded nothing less.
Even the sacred title of "God of Shinobi" was no longer exclusive to the First Hokage. Minato had earned similar recognition, and perhaps one day, Naruto would as well.
Swish!
Without further ceremony, both Jiraiya and Orochimaru burst into motion, rushing toward the ongoing battle between Tsunade and the Second Mizukage. The pale Sannin's serpentine grace complemented Jiraiya's more direct approach as they closed the distance with lethal intent. Against the Second Mizukage's heightened sensory capabilities, the giant clam's mirage-based illusions held no power to deceive or mislead.
Across the broader theater of war, the tide of battle had shifted decisively. Despite their overwhelming numerical advantage—the White Zetsu army had initially outnumbered the Allied Shinobi Forces by several times—the artificial constructs were being systematically eliminated. The alliance's superior coordination, tactical flexibility, and individual skill was proving decisive against quantity alone.
Though the coalition forces had certainly paid a price in blood and sacrifice, victory's balance was inexorably tilting in their favor. Each fallen comrade had been avenged tenfold, each White Zetsu eliminated brought them closer to the war's ultimate resolution.
At that moment, the two ancient toads perched on Jiraiya's broad shoulders—Fukasaku and Shima—suddenly stiffened with alarm. Their centuries of experience had taught them to recognize the subtle signs of major chakra disturbances across vast distances.
"Boy," Fukasaku's voice carried urgent concern, his usual casual tone replaced by something approaching dread.
The warning was unnecessary. Jiraiya had already felt it—a violent surge of chaotic energy erupting from the north like a spiritual earthquake. His head snapped toward the disturbance's source, his sensory abilities confirming his worst fears.
"That's the direction of headquarters," he said grimly, his mind immediately leaping to tactical implications. If the command center was under direct assault, the entire war's coordination could collapse within minutes.
"Madara," he whispered, the name carrying the weight of inevitable catastrophe. "You couldn't restrain yourself any longer, could you?"
Meanwhile, in the dense forests of the Iron Country's northernmost region...
What had once been pristine wilderness had been transformed into a hellscape of devastation. Ancient trees lay shattered and burning, their massive trunks reduced to splinters by the impact of high-level water release techniques. Black flames—the inextinguishable fire of Amaterasu—clung to scattered debris like hungry demons, casting dancing shadows across the scorched earth.
The very landscape seemed to recoil from the violence that had been unleashed upon it, steam rising from superheated ground where water and fire had clashed in elemental fury.
High above the destruction, members of the surprise attack force hovered on Sai's ink birds, their eyes straining to follow the lightning-fast combat unfolding below. Sai himself gripped his mount's reins with white knuckles, his usually composed expression betraying genuine concern for the battle's outcome.
"I can barely track their movements," one of the surveillance specialists muttered, his enhanced vision struggling to capture more than brief glimpses of the combatants. The speed at which Itachi and the Second Hokage moved transcended normal human perception, their forms becoming little more than blurs of red and blue chakra.
The reanimated Second Hokage's power was truly staggering. Despite Itachi's considerable advantages—the eye he swap with Sasuke that had granted him eternal Mangekyō Sharingan, the First Hokage's cells flowing through his veins, enhancing his chakra reserves and physical capabilities—the battle remained desperately close.
Without Susanoo's legendary armaments, Itachi would have fallen multiple times over. The Totsuka Sword's ability to seal whatever it cut, the Yata Mirror's power to deflect any attack, and Kagutsuchi's flames that burned with the fury of a goddess—these divine weapons were the only things keeping him competitive against a shinobi whose mastery of water release bordered on the supernatural.
"This is unsustainable," Itachi thought as he felt his chakra reserves dwindling with each exchange. Though the First Hokage's cells had dramatically increased his stamina and regenerative capabilities, they couldn't match the virtually limitless energy provided by the Edo Tensei resurrection technique. In a war of attrition, he would inevitably be the first to fall.
The tactical mathematics were stark and unforgiving. Every technique he used drew from finite reserves, while his opponent could fight with reckless abandon, knowing that exhaustion was impossible and wounds were meaningless.
"I have to end this quickly," he decided, his Sharingan analyzing the Second Hokage's movement patterns for any exploitable weakness. "One decisive strike, or not at all."
"SPLASH!"
As if responding to his thoughts, a massive torrent of water erupted around Itachi's Susanoo, the liquid moving with impossible precision and coordination. The streams didn't merely surround him—they wove together in a complex pattern, creating a binding technique that seemed to defy physical laws.
Looking more closely, Itachi realized the water flows were rotating in opposite directions from top to bottom, creating a spiral prison that tightened with every passing second. The technique was masterful, combining raw power with mathematical precision that spoke of decades of refinement.
"Is your chakra finally running low?" Black Zetsu's mocking laughter echoed across the battlefield, his artificial voice dripping with sadistic pleasure. Despite Susanoo's desperate struggles, the ethereal fighter's strength was visibly diminishing, its movements becoming more labored with each passing moment.
The prolonged battle had taken its inevitable toll. Even with his enhanced reserves, Itachi was approaching his limits, and his opponent knew it.
Without warning, the Second Hokage materialized behind the water prison, his hands moving through familiar seals with mechanical precision. Chakra gathered at his back like a gathering storm, coalescing into the familiar shape of a massive water dragon. But this wasn't an ordinary Water Dragon Bullet—the amount of chakra being channeled was enough to level a small mountain.
"ROAR!"
The water dragon's bellow shook the forest as it launched itself forward, its serpentine form cutting through the air like a massive arrow aimed directly at the trapped Itachi. When it struck the swirling water prison, the collision produced effects that defied normal expectations.
"BOOM!"
The seemingly gentle water flow exploded with the force of military-grade explosives, sending razor-sharp droplets flying in all directions. Each droplet moved with bullet-like velocity, capable of punching through solid rock or severing limbs with casual ease.
High above, the members of the surprise attack force scattered desperately, their ink birds banking and diving to avoid the deadly rain of liquid projectiles.
"Captain's Susanoo has disappeared!" The perception specialist's voice cracked with panic as the familiar red chakra signature vanished completely, lost within the churning mist of the explosion's aftermath.
Swish!
Through the obscuring vapor came a figure moving with the fluid grace of water itself. The Second Hokage emerged from the mist like a specter of death, a kunai gripped in his hand with lethal intent. His target was obvious—Itachi's heart, exposed now that Susanoo's protection had been shattered.
Itachi's Sharingan tracked the approaching threat, his enhanced perception allowing him to see the attack coming. But knowledge and ability to respond were two different things. His body, pushed beyond its limits by the extended battle, simply couldn't react quickly enough to fully evade the strike.
"THUD!"
The kunai found its mark, piercing deep into Itachi's left side from behind. Only a last-second twist of his torso prevented the blade from finding his heart, redirecting the potentially fatal blow to a less critical area. Blood blossomed across his clothing as the weapon bit deep into muscle and sinew.
"Die," the Second Hokage's voice was flat and emotionless, the words carrying the mechanical certainty of an automaton programmed for destruction.
But rather than despair, Itachi felt a surge of grim satisfaction. Pain was irrelevant now—this was the opportunity he had been waiting for, the single moment when his opponent would be close enough and distracted enough for his final gambit.
"Perfect," he whispered, ignoring the agony radiating from his wounded side as he twisted to face his attacker directly.
His left eye underwent a dramatic transformation, the eternal Mangekyō Sharingan's pattern spinning faster and faster as he poured every remaining ounce of his ocular power into one final technique.
"TSUKUYOMI!"
The word carried the weight of divine authority, and reality seemed to fracture around the two combatants. This wasn't merely an illusion—it was the manifestation of Itachi's will given form, a pocket dimension where he held absolute dominion over time, space, and perception.
The strain was immense. As the technique took hold, Itachi's Sharingan pattern faded completely, his eyes returning to their normal dark state. He had gambled everything on this single attack, burning out his remaining ocular power in the desperate hope of breaking through Black Zetsu's control.
But as the genjutsu's effects settled, horror replaced hope in Itachi's heart. The Second Hokage's eyes remained as dark and lifeless as before, showing no sign that the technique had affected him at all.
"My illusion... it's ineffective?" The words escaped his lips as a broken whisper, carrying the weight of complete tactical failure.
"Haha, so you've finally played your last desperate card," Black Zetsu's laughter was like nails on slate, harsh and grating with malicious amusement. "You really had no other choice, did you? In a battle against the Second Hokage, initiative was never a luxury you could afford."
The artificial being's analysis was coldly accurate. From the moment the battle began, Itachi had been fighting a losing war of attrition, his every move reactive rather than proactive.
"His ocular power is indeed formidable," Black Zetsu continued, his tone carrying grudging respect, "but compared to Madara's might, it remains woefully inadequate."
The truth was both simple and damning. The reason Black Zetsu could maintain control over the First Hokage, the previous Kage, and now the Second Hokage was because Madara had previously subjected them to the overwhelming power of the Rinnegan. That foundational illusion, woven with ocular power that transcended mortal limitations, simply couldn't be broken by a mere Mangekyō Sharingan—no matter how skilled its wielder.
Black Zetsu's expression twisted into something truly predatory as he prepared to deliver the killing blow through the Second Hokage's form. Victory was so close he could taste it, the elimination of one of the Akatsuki's most dangerous opponents within his grasp.
But at that crucial moment, something unprecedented occurred.
The Second Hokage's hands, which had been gripping the kunai with mechanical steadiness, began to tremble. It started as barely perceptible vibrations, but quickly intensified until the weapon was visibly shaking. More importantly, within those dark, lifeless eyes, a faint gleam of something approaching consciousness began to flicker.
Itachi, despite his exhaustion and injuries, immediately recognized the significance of what he was witnessing. Without hesitation, he channeled strength he didn't know he still possessed and threw himself backward, ignoring the way the movement sent fresh blood streaming from his wounded side.
The retreat was tactically sound but costly. The First Hokage's cells were already working to heal his injuries, their regenerative power accelerating his body's natural healing processes to superhuman levels. Still, the damage was significant enough to require precious time and energy to repair.
However, Itachi's primary concern wasn't his physical condition—it was the unprecedented change occurring in his opponent. The Second Hokage was exhibiting behavior patterns completely inconsistent with Black Zetsu's control, movements that suggested the return of individual will and consciousness.
"Sealing Squad, begin the sealing process immediately!" Itachi's command cut through the air with desperate urgency, his voice carrying clearly to the surprise attack force hovering above.
Without delay, the specialized sealing ninjas descended on Sai's ink constructs, their hands already forming the complex seals necessary for containing an Edo Tensei resurrection.
"How is this possible?" Black Zetsu's voice cracked with disbelief, his usual composure shattered by the impossible development unfolding before him. "Madara's genjutsu... it cannot be broken! The power differential is too great!"
But the evidence was undeniable. Not only was the foundational illusion dissolving, but the collision between two powerful genjutsu techniques—Madara's Rinnegan-based control and Itachi's Tsukuyomi—had created an unexpected resonance effect that was temporarily disrupting Black Zetsu's manipulation of the Edo Tensei itself.
Before Itachi's amazed eyes, the Second Hokage slowly raised his hands with deliberate, almost ceremonial movements. His fingers moved through a series of hand seals, each gesture performed with the careful precision of someone relearning forgotten motions.
Buzz!
The moment the final seal was completed, the Second Hokage's reanimated form began to emit a soft, ethereal light. Paper-like fragments started to peel away from his body—the physical components of the Edo Tensei technique beginning to dissolve as the soul prepared to depart for the afterlife.
"Is the Edo Tensei being dispelled?" Itachi watched in fascination as what appeared to be the technique's natural conclusion began to unfold.
But just as he began to hope that the Second Hokage's soul would find peace, the glowing energy that had been separating from the physical form suddenly reversed course. The light collapsed back into the reanimated body with surprising force, and the dissolution process ground to a complete halt.
When the energy settled, the change in the Second Hokage was immediately apparent. His eyes, which had been dark and emotionless throughout their entire battle, now blazed with intelligent fury and offended pride.
His gaze swept the battlefield, taking in Itachi's wounded form, the devastated landscape, and the hovering figures of the surprise attack force with the calculating assessment of a master tactician. When he spoke, his voice carried the authority of someone accustomed to absolute command.
"No matter who you are," the Second Hokage said, his words carrying the cold anger of a creator confronting those who would pervert his work, "never forget that the Edo Tensei is a technique that I invented."
The implication was clear and terrifying. If Tobirama Senju had created the resurrection technique, then his understanding of its mechanisms surpassed that of any other user. Black Zetsu's control, regardless of the power backing it, was ultimately dependent on exploiting a technique whose every nuance and weakness were intimately familiar to its original designer.
The Second Hokage had not only broken free—he had seized complete control of his own resurrection, transforming from puppet to puppeteer in a single decisive moment.
The balance of power on the battlefield had shifted in ways none of them could have predicted.
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