To avoid revealing any weakness, Akira gritted his teeth and forcefully suppressed the stabbing pain radiating through his body. The searing ache in his meridians was a warning—his body was nearing its limit.
Without hesitation, he silently activated the Creation Rebirth Technique, carefully weaving his chakra through his internal pathways. Tiny tears in his meridians began to mend, the pain dulling as the regenerative power of the jutsu took effect. Thankfully, the Third Raikage hadn't noticed his moment of weakness. Within moments, Akira was fully healed and ready to re-engage.
But one thing was certain—the Golden Bell Shield was no longer an option. It had barely withstood the Raikage's Two-Finger Spear Thrust. If he unleashed the One-Finger version next, Akira's current state wouldn't hold up. He couldn't afford to remain passive. It was time to shift the tempo.
Every ninjutsu passed down in the ninja world had been tested, refined, and perfected through generations of battle. Akira's Sound Release techniques, developed in mere months, were still raw—unpolished blades wielded with conviction, but lacking history. Most of his sound-based jutsu were designed for close-range use, where they could unleash their full destructive potential. The few ranged Sound Release techniques he had were more like repurposed elemental attacks—nothing that could seriously threaten a Kage-level opponent.
Ever since Akira discovered the Heart-Crushing Palm could actually harm the Raikage, the latter had grown cautious, denying Akira the proximity needed to land the technique again. But Akira had another trump card—one with a better chance of landing.
He had to act now.
"Sound Release: Earthquake Wave!"
Chakra surged to his hands as Akira slammed them into the ground. The battlefield trembled violently, the ground splitting open in jagged cracks. Dust and debris exploded into the air, turning the surroundings into a suffocating cloud of chaos.
Predictably, the Raikage launched himself into the air, evading the tremors. That's when Akira struck again.
"Sound Release: Air Vibration Wave!"
Harnessing the vibration of sound in the very air, Akira released a blast that rippled toward the airborne Raikage. With no solid ground to push off from, the Raikage could only cross his arms and brace for impact. The wave struck, sending him crashing down, tearing twin trenches into the earth as his heels dragged across the ground.
Akira didn't hesitate.
"Sound Release: Vibration Ejection!"
He launched himself forward, a straight-line acceleration technique powered by vibrating chakra expelled from his soles. Faster than a standard Body Flicker Technique, though far less flexible. But for Akira's purpose—closing the distance—it was perfect.
The battlefield was still clouded with dust. The Raikage couldn't see Akira's approach. But Akira, with his enhanced sensory abilities, knew exactly where his target was.
He emerged from the haze like a ghost, hand raised high.
The Raikage instinctively raised his arms to protect his chest, assuming it was another Heart-Crushing Palm.
But Akira wasn't using that.
From his hand, visible strands of vibrating chakra extended outward, condensing rapidly into a blade.
"Sound Release: Sound Blade."
A high-frequency vibration, shaped into a cutting edge. Unlike a standard chakra scalpel, the Sound Blade vibrated so violently it mimicked a chainsaw, able to tear through steel like paper.
Akira brought it down in a deadly arc.
The Raikage was fast—faster than most—but not fast enough to completely evade. The blade missed his neck by a fraction, slashing diagonally across his torso.
A spray of blood painted the air as the Sound Blade carved through the Raikage's shoulder, chest, and down to his abdomen. His arms, raised in defense, took the brunt of it—deep gashes down to the bone.
Before Akira could strike again, the Raikage disengaged, leaping back to safety.
Akira exhaled slowly, his body tense.
"As expected," he muttered. "The so-called strongest spear and shield in the ninja world… your body is absurdly durable. My blade couldn't even cut clean through."
He wasn't exaggerating. He had once tested the Sound Blade on steel columns wider than a man's torso. They had been cleaved in two effortlessly. Yet the Raikage's flesh resisted it. Whether it was his training or some divine resilience, the man's body was forged like mythic armor.
The Third Raikage looked at the wounds on his arms, then back at Akira, eyes burning with something between rage and admiration.
"Your technique is formidable," he said. "The Five Kage each have their strengths, but in the past two decades, no one has managed to wound me in battle. Until today."
He raised his injured hand, blood still dripping. "That alone is worthy of acknowledgment."
Despite the compliment, Akira remained on guard. He knew what was coming.
The Raikage's expression hardened. "You've seen my shield. Now let me show you my spear."
The air seemed to still as the Raikage's chakra surged. Lightning crackled and intensified around his frame. He extended his left hand, raising one single finger.
Akira's eyes narrowed behind his mask.
It was time.
His Sharingan spun, tomoe blurring together until the Mangekyō awakened—its new pattern gleaming red and black.
The Raikage vanished.
Only with the Mangekyō could Akira keep up with his speed. Time slowed in his vision. The Raikage's lightning-cloaked form blurred toward him, a single finger aimed straight for his heart.
He couldn't block it in time. But he didn't need to.
"Sound Release: Vibration Ejection."
Akira's right hand fired a focused blast of vibration straight at the Raikage's wrist.
The effect was immediate. The Raikage's strike veered off-course—not outward, but inward.
His own finger, moving faster than sound, slammed into his chest.
The result was catastrophic.
The Raikage's own momentum carried his hand through his right chest, the lightning chakra tearing muscle and flesh like a spear of divine wrath. Blood exploded from his wound as the same finger drove clean through his upper arm.
For a heartbeat, silence.
Then the Raikage staggered back, a look of sheer disbelief etched across his face.
He remembered a similar wound—one he had once inflicted upon himself in exhaustion during a desperate battle against the Eight-Tails. It had always been his deepest secret. No one had known. Until now.
And then he heard that raspy voice again.
"It seems," Akira said softly, "the strongest shield… was undone by the strongest spear."
The Raikage's pride cracked like porcelain. His blood surged, his breath hitched.
And with a heavy thud, the legendary Raikage collapsed to the ground—unconscious.
Akira stood over him, his Mangekyō spinning slowly, fading back into tomoe.
He had won.
But this was not triumph.
It was survival.
The Third Raikage's Lightning Release Chakra Armor was a marvel of defense, a testament to the terrifying fusion of chakra mastery and raw physical prowess. Reinforced by years of brutal training and countless battles, his body had become a fortress. Even Naruto's Wind Release: Rasenshuriken, powered by the Nine-Tails' chakra, had barely scratched the surface, leaving only superficial wounds.
In the original tale, Naruto had relied on the scar over the Raikage's chest and insights from the Eight-Tails to deduce a vital truth: the only force capable of injuring the Raikage was his own attack. By turning that devastating strength back on him, Naruto had triumphed.
Akira, known as the Sound Shadow, now found himself in a similar position. After clashing repeatedly with the Third Raikage, it had become evident—no matter how refined his Sound Release techniques were, they could not pierce the Raikage's godlike defense. His Golden Bell Shield, once believed nearly impenetrable, had already reached its limit.
With tactical precision and no small amount of pressure, Akira deduced that only the Raikage's One-Finger Spear Hand could harm him. Thus, he bided his time, waiting for the exact moment when the Raikage would unleash his so-called strongest spear.
Unlike Naruto, who had used Sage Mode to perceive the Raikage's movements, Akira had his own tools: the Mangekyō Sharingan and the enhancement of his thought processes by White Lightning. These powers gave him not only the visual acuity to track the Raikage's lightning-fast thrusts but also the mental clarity to anticipate and counter them in real time.
When the Raikage finally declared, "Let me show you the might of the strongest spear," Akira knew his chance had come.
The world blurred around them as the Raikage vanished from view. Even the Mangekyō Sharingan could barely keep pace—until the tomoe spun together into its ultimate form. Suddenly, time slowed. Akira could see the flicker of muscles, the arc of lightning, the path of the One-Finger Spear Hand aiming for his heart.
"Sound Release: Vibration Ejection," Akira muttered, almost gently.
Instead of dodging, he redirected. A wave of high-frequency sound exploded from his right hand, striking the Raikage's wrist just before contact.
And just as he'd planned, the Raikage's own momentum betrayed him. The powerful thrust curved inward, raking across his own chest and embedding deep into his upper right arm. The flesh tore; bone cracked. Blood erupted in a brilliant arc. A cry caught in the Raikage's throat, not from pain, but from disbelief.
He staggered, dropping to his knees, staring at the mangled ruin of his own right arm. In his mind flashed the shameful memory—the battle with the Eight-Tails, the accidental wound to his own chest, a secret he'd sworn to bury. And now, it had happened again.
Standing over him, Akira's voice rang cold and low: "Seems the strongest shield has lost to the strongest spear."
The Raikage's pride, more than his body, shattered. His vision swam as unconsciousness claimed him.
In the distance, the massive sandstorm conjured by their earlier Earthquake Wave battle still obscured the battlefield. Samurai and Cloud ninja alike strained to see through the haze, hearts pounding.
The samurai of the Land of Rice Fields understood what was at stake. This battle would decide more than victory or defeat. It would determine whether their homeland would become embroiled in a devastating war. They were warriors, yes, but also sons, fathers, mothers, daughters. They had families, civilians, innocents relying on peace.
The Cloud ninja, on the other hand, radiated arrogant confidence. The Raikage, to them, was a living god—invincible, incomparable. Even when Akira had shown remarkable strength, they dismissed him. A shinobi from a minor nation, the so-called Sound Shadow, was no match for their Raikage. They waited eagerly for the sand to clear, for the moment when their lord would stand triumphant.
But when the dust finally settled, the battlefield revealed a stark contrast.
The Third Raikage lay crumpled in a pool of his own blood, motionless.
Akira stood tall, unscathed.
Silence gripped the Cloud forces. Then came the screams.
"He killed Lord Raikage! Get him! Take him down!" someone cried.
Without hesitation, the Cloud ninja charged, weapons drawn. Panic fueled their rage. They couldn't see that Akira hadn't moved to finish the Raikage off. They didn't care. All they saw was their leader broken and their pride wounded.
Akira sighed as dozens of furious ninja rushed toward him.
"Seriously? The man isn't even dead," he muttered. "I let him live. Why is everyone so eager to die today?"
But no one could hear him over the roar of battle.
Earlier, as the Raikage collapsed, Akira had indeed contemplated killing him. The man would make an exceptional puppet—perhaps the finest in the entire world. But the moral weight pressed on him. Killing for sport or collection was one thing in theory. In practice, he felt the burden of every choice he made as a leader.
More than that, the political fallout would be catastrophic. The death of the Raikage in foreign territory would ignite a war between Sound and Cloud. And Akira's goals didn't include war—not yet. He had a village to build, a dream to nurture. War would destroy all that.
So, he had chosen mercy.
Now, he faced their fury regardless.
With a fluid motion, he activated his Sound Release Chakra Armor—a thin yet potent layer of vibrating chakra enveloping his entire body. It enhanced both offense and defense, augmenting every strike with crushing force.
With a smirk, Akira stepped into the oncoming storm.
His first punch landed squarely in a charging shinobi's chest. The man crumpled mid-air, crashing into a group behind him and knocking them all over like bowling pins.
Akira became a whirlwind. Left jab. Right hook. Low sweep. Every strike powered by chakra, reinforced by Sound Release, and driven by superhuman strength. Ninja flew through the air, some screaming, some silent, all broken.
Ribs snapped. Blades clattered to the ground. The air filled with the scent of sweat and blood.
Even so, Akira was not killing. Every blow was calculated to disable, not to end lives.
In the chaos, a squad of Cloud ninja broke off toward the fallen Raikage. Among them, a lone medical ninja gasped in relief to find him still breathing. Her relief turned to panic upon seeing the gaping wound across his chest and his severed arm.
"He's in critical condition! We need to get him out now!" she cried.
Working swiftly, they stabilized what they could and began dragging the Raikage away from the fight.
Throughout it all, Akira remained aware of them. His perception spread across the battlefield like an invisible net.
He noticed their cautious glances, their breath held in fear as they moved the Raikage. But he didn't attack. He let them go.
"If I wanted him dead," he murmured under his breath, eyes flicking toward them, "you'd all be corpses by now."
As the battle waned, one truth became increasingly clear to both sides: Akira, the Sound Shadow, was not a man to be underestimated. He had defeated the strongest spear with his mind, spared his enemy with his heart, and faced an army with unshakable resolve.
The battlefield bore witness to the beginning of a legend.