Even in Akatsuki, bonds were not so easily erased. For all their bickering, for all the constant tension, Itachi still valued his comrades—perhaps Kisame most of all. They had walked through too many life-and-death battles together. Outcasts with no true home, Akatsuki had become their only belonging.
But the truth was harsher. To Obito, they were all tools. To Kaede, they were the same—pieces to move toward the Moon's Eye Plan. Once that plan succeeded, their lives were expendable.
The stage for that plan was not yet set. Pain had not arrived. For now, all they could do was move according to their roles.
Kisame glanced at Itachi. "We should move. Time to finish our task."
But Itachi didn't shift. His gaze was locked on the battlefield, on the fight between his brother and Naruto. His eyes refused to leave.
"You go," he murmured.
Kisame hesitated, then followed his line of sight to where Naruto and Sasuke clashed. The crowd had pulled back, giving them space.
In a blur of speed, Naruto vanished and reappeared right at Sasuke's side, his fist wrapped in the burning red chakra of the Nine-Tails. His claws slashed toward Sasuke's face, the air screaming from the force. Sasuke bent back just enough, the chakra grazing his cheek, and in that instant countered—driving his Kusanagi sword, charged with the crackling light of Chidori, straight into Naruto's chest.
The strike was lethal. The crowd gasped.
An examiner leapt forward, ready to intervene. But Tsunade's sharp command cut through the noise. "Don't move. Watch."
The next second, the "Naruto" impaled by Sasuke dissolved into smoke. A shadow clone.
Gasps turned into stunned silence.
From the distance, a kunai whistled toward Sasuke. His body reacted instantly, twisting to dodge. But as the blade scraped past his shoulder, Naruto appeared out of nowhere—gripping the kunai midair, twisting into a seamless spin. Chakra surged into his palm, forming a roaring Rasengan.
The sphere smashed into Sasuke's chest, sending a shockwave across the arena.
The audience erupted.
"That—was that the Flying Thunder God?"
"Impossible! That was the Second Hokage's technique, perfected by the Fourth—Minato himself!"
"Don't forget, Naruto is Minato's son!"
Even so, awe filled their voices. Flying Thunder God was a forbidden peak of space-time ninjutsu. Apart from Kakashi, no one else alive had been thought to wield it. And yet, Naruto had just used it—flawlessly.
Sasuke staggered, clutching his chest, disbelief flickering in his Sharingan eyes. In his memory, Naruto was supposed to be clumsy, a dropout who struggled with even basic clones. Yes, he had bursts of brilliance—strange moments of genius where his instincts and creativity surpassed reason—but this…
This was something else.
The truth was that Naruto's growth had been shackled for years, his chakra constantly in conflict with the Nine-Tails. Two forces fighting for dominance inside him, leaving him unstable. If his chakra faltered, the beast would consume him, drag him into madness.
But now, with true resonance between them, that conflict was gone. The Nine-Tails no longer devoured him—it empowered him.
And with that union, the boy once called a failure now stood as something terrifying.
A shinobi who carried the Will of Fire… and the power of a god.
(End of Chapter)
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