The Third Raikage's legendary Three-Finger Spear Hand thrust forward like a lightning bolt aimed to pierce through mountains—yet it collided with an unseen wall.
The invisible barrier didn't just resist; it shimmered subtly with a faint hum, vibrating violently upon impact. The Raikage felt an unfamiliar force fighting back against him. His fingers trembled slightly as if the very air resisted him.
"What the hell is this... Ninjutsu?" he thought, his eyes narrowing.
He hadn't expected resistance, much less a counter like this. The vibrations unsettled his nerves, literally. It wasn't just a shield—it was alive, resonating.
How did he anticipate my attack? the Raikage wondered, gritting his teeth.
What he didn't know was that Akira hadn't predicted the move in advance. Rather, in the exact fraction of a second the Raikage launched his attack, Akira's Sharingan caught the micro-adjustments of his stance and lightning flow. His superhuman reflexes and rapid seal execution, powered by intense chakra control and honed by rigorous training, let him calculate the precise strike point and activate his Sound Release: Sound Barrier in an instant.
Akira, feeling the shield hold, let out a slow breath of relief.
He had tested the barrier in simulations and training, even with jutsu like Chidori, but never under the raw force of a Kage-level assassination technique. The battlefield was the only real proving ground.
But even if it failed, Akira had his contingency: the Flying Thunder God Technique. A single flicker, and he would vanish. Still, he had hoped to avoid exposing that trump card so early.
Now was his moment.
As predicted, the Three-Finger Spear Hand caused a momentary lapse in the Raikage's stance.
Akira seized the arm extended into his chest with iron grip.
"Sound Release: Heart-Shattering Palm," he whispered.
The Raikage tried to wrench his arm back, but Akira's strength was monstrous. As the palm landed on his chest, the Raikage raised his free hand, ready to retaliate with a crushing punch.
But his own attack never landed.
The instant Akira's palm struck, a shock rippled through the Raikage's body. His mouth opened in silent disbelief as his form was sent flying backward. A burning, tearing pain radiated through his ribcage.
The watching ninja, both Cloud and Rice, stared in shock as the living lightning bolt was thrown through the air.
Unlike traditional taijutsu, Akira's palm was infused with infrasound waves, tuned to vibrate the internal organs.
Externally, the Raikage was still the unbreakable wall, but inside, his lungs spasmed, and blood filled his throat.
He coughed it out, crimson staining his lips. Pain throbbed in his chest.
He got me, the Raikage thought bitterly. If that hit had landed on my liver or stomach, I might be unconscious right now. Only my heart—toughest of all—saved me from a knockout.
Akira didn't pause.
He dashed forward, eyes blazing.
"Sound Release: Lion's Roar!"
He inhaled sharply, gathering chakra into his lungs and throat.
Then, he roared.
A monstrous wave of compressed sound chakra erupted from his mouth, vibrating the air so violently that space itself seemed to shimmer.
The air exploded with shockwaves, and the force surged outward like a cannon blast, targeting the falling Raikage.
But the Raikage, as indomitable as ever, roared in defiance.
With an explosive surge of chakra, lightning burst around his frame. His muscles tensed, his expression hardened, and with a blur of speed faster than sound itself, he vanished from the trajectory.
The sonic blast struck empty air—and behind him, the Cloud ninjas.
They were unprepared.
The sound wave, invisible yet unstoppable, tore through their ranks.
Screams filled the air—only to be swallowed by the roar's fury. The ninjas clutched their ears, blood streaming from their noses, mouths, and eyes. Some dropped to their knees, others collapsed altogether, trembling, overwhelmed by the sheer pressure.
Even the elite among them, far from the epicenter, staggered. The vibrations scrambled their inner ear, disrupted chakra flow, and clouded their minds with white noise.
Even the samurai behind Akira winced, clutching their heads.
The only one seemingly unaffected was the Raikage—standing tall amidst the devastation, lightning crackling across his body like a cloak.
Was it physical fortitude? Superior willpower? Perhaps both.
Akira tilted his head, showing a faint, sheepish smile.
"Ah… I didn't expect you to dodge that one. I genuinely thought you were too hurt to move. Sorry about the… collateral."
There was an undeniable glint of mockery in his tone.
The Raikage didn't rise to the bait.
His lips thinned, his fists clenched.
Twice now, this boy had hurt him. Once physically, and now strategically. And the techniques—he had never seen anything like them.
Sound-based ninjutsu? Vibrating barriers? Internal organ disruption?
The Raikage's expression darkened.
"These jutsu… this timing… your mastery of taijutsu and chakra control…"
He stepped forward slowly, the earth cracking beneath each footfall.
"You fight like a man who's lived through a hundred battles. Who are you, Akira? Don't think for a second I believe you're some upstart calling himself Sound Shadow. There's no way someone this dangerous just appeared out of nowhere."
Akira looked at him evenly, the crimson Sharingan spinning.
"You're right," he said simply. "I didn't appear out of nowhere. I forged this power, this path, because I refuse to be overshadowed by the so-called Great Nations any longer."
He raised a hand, fingers still trembling slightly from the force of the Lion's Roar.
"The age of the Five Kage won't last forever. And I… I will be the first to prove it."
The battlefield fell into silence, only the low crackle of residual lightning and the moans of wounded ninja echoing in the air.
The Raikage stared at Akira, his anger slowly giving way to a grudging sense of respect—and a deep, seething wariness.
The boy wasn't bluffing.
He was a storm in human form. And his thunder hadn't even begun to roar.
"Didn't I already say it? I'm Akira, the Sound Shadow of the Hidden Sound Village," Akira replied, his tone laced with a weary defiance, as if tired of repeating himself.
The Third Raikage narrowed his eyes, skepticism etched deep into his battle-worn face. "Impossible. With power like yours, you couldn't have stayed in the shadows this long."
Akira's lips curled into a half-smile, calm and steady despite the storm raging around him. "What's impossible about that? The world is vast, Raikage-sama. There are hidden masters in every corner. I may have been a nobody before—but after today, that changes. Especially if I defeat you."
There was no arrogance in his words, only a quiet confidence rooted in hard-earned strength. Akira had gauged the effect of his Heart-Shattering Palm on the Raikage and was now more certain of its power. It hadn't dealt a critical blow, but it proved something vital: the Raikage was not invincible.
He had deduced why the attack hadn't been more effective. The Lightning Release Chakra Mode not only strengthened muscles and nerves—it likely reinforced internal organs too. His initial strike had targeted the heart, one of the strongest organs, inadvertently reducing the damage.
"Next time," Akira thought, eyes sharpening, "I'll aim for the lungs."
The Raikage seemed to relent, if only slightly. "I'll accept that answer for now. But don't think defeating me will be that easy."
His tone was gruff, but there was a flicker of respect in it. Even so, Akira's earlier bravado had irked him. Sound Release was a rare and curious element, but powerful shinobi often had their own esoteric techniques.
"Lightning Release: Black Panther!"
A snarl of black lightning erupted from the Raikage's frame, crackling into the shape of a panther before lunging at Akira with lethal grace.
Many had forgotten the Third Raikage's prowess in ninjutsu, overshadowed by his brute strength and monstrous speed. But the Black Panther was his original creation—black lightning that didn't aim to destroy, but paralyze.
Akira's eyes gleamed. He too had dabbled in black lightning, but unlike the Raikage's elegant control, his version was volatile—perfect for explosive bursts, not persistent attacks. He had tried merging it with Chidori but found it unstable. The short duration made it hard to hit fast-moving targets.
This real-time display from the Raikage offered clarity. The black lightning still carried all the natural properties of Lightning Release, but its refinement honed one trait to extremity—binding. The panther was fast. Too fast.
Akira vanished in a blur of Body Flicker. But the panther twisted mid-air, redirecting itself unnaturally toward him like a predator with locked scent.
"So he can manipulate the trajectory... this isn't ordinary lightning," Akira realized. There would be no dodging it this time.
With no time to waste, Akira called forth his chakra.
"Sound Release: Golden Bell Shield!"
A dome of rippling sound enveloped him, spinning in a protective sphere. The vibrating chakra warped the air, giving off a metallic hum as the lightning panther collided.
The chakra shield resisted, vibrations shifting frequencies on impact. A resonant ring echoed—like a massive bronze bell being struck. The name of the technique wasn't just poetic—it was literal.
Even as the Black Panther dispersed in a flash, its disruption was not in vain. Smoke and static filled the air.
The Raikage was already in motion.
"Two-Finger Spear Hand!"
He was upon Akira in an instant, fingers glowing with concentrated chakra. The Two-Finger Spear Hand had more piercing power than the Three-Finger version—it was a precision strike, a chakra bullet.
Akira's Golden Bell Shield whirled faster, countering the thrust with raw rotational force. The shield, unlike the single-pointed Sound Barrier, worked by distributing and redirecting impact over a wider surface. It was an elegant defense—more art than armor.
The Raikage's fingers stabbed forward. A screech rang out as they met resistance.
The chakra frequencies buckled under pressure, distorting into a grating, high-pitched shriek. Sparks danced along the surface. The Raikage gritted his teeth and pushed harder, trying to breach the defense.
Akira's eyes narrowed in concentration. More chakra. More speed.
The Golden Bell Shield whirled like a typhoon now, rippling waves of sound spinning in harmonic chaos. Finally, the Raikage's momentum waned. He had failed to penetrate the barrier.
In that instant, Akira struck.
"Sound Release: Heart-Shattering Palm!"
His hand surged forward—close range, just like before. But the Raikage had learned. This time, he wasn't caught. With a surge of lightning and a burst of speed, he flickered backward just as Akira's palm sliced through empty air.
Akira landed lightly, but a grimace twisted across his face.
Pain.
His body was trembling—not from fear or strain, but from internal damage. Chakra flowed from every pore to maintain the Golden Bell Shield. Unlike most ninjas who channel chakra through their mouths or hands, Akira was forcing it through his entire body.
A feat only the Hyuga typically mastered.
He had studied their Revolving Heaven, drawn inspiration, and forged his own path. But his body wasn't trained for full-body chakra flow. His meridians—especially the finer ones across his limbs and torso—were fraying. It wasn't agony, but it was becoming unbearable.
He recalled the days of practice, standing alone in a sound-proof chamber, trying to mimic the perfect harmonic vibration with nothing but instinct.
He had succeeded.
But the cost was surfacing now.
Akira staggered slightly, breath shallow.
His golden shield flickered. The Raikage noticed.
"You're strong," the Raikage admitted, chest still aching faintly from the earlier strike. "But your technique is too new. You haven't built the body to wield it for long."
Akira met his eyes, unflinching. "Then I'll just end it before it destroys me."
The Raikage's grin widened, battle-lust igniting in his gaze. "Then come. Show me what the Sound Shadow is truly made of."
The next clash was moments away—but to those watching, it was as if the very air held its breath.
Two titans. One battle. Sound against lightning.
And in the heart of it, a young man named Akira stood, not just to survive—but to be remembered.