"Tch! In case you forgot, I'm the older one!"
Sasuke shot Naruto a look dripping with disdain, his face a perfect canvas for a metaphorical sweatdrop. How could he, an Uchiha (the last respectable one, in his mind), possibly acknowledge this knucklehead as his 'Senpai'?
"Ahaha! Is that so?" Naruto scratched the back of his head, his grin sheepish but undimmed. "But I've got the backing! My uncle is amazing!"
He jabbed a triumphant finger toward the sky, where Namikaze Raimon was engaged in a high-speed game of cat-and-mouse with the Fourth Raikage.
Sasuke fell silent, a familiar, bitter ache twisting in his gut. This idiot used to be the biggest loser in the Academy, a parentless orphan.
Now? He had a living legend for a relative and a dead father who was a Hokage. And him? The only family he had left was a rogue-nin brother who was responsible for slaughtering their entire clan.
"Damn it…"
Wordlessly, Sasuke flickered away from the exuberant blond, channeling his frustration into brutal efficiency. The nearest Iwagakure shinobi bore the brunt of it. His newly mastered Chidori Eisō (Lightning Release: Chidori Sharp Spear) lanced out, piercing through one enemy, then another, stringing them together with gruesome precision—less like shish kebabs and more like a morbid version of dango.
"What the hell?! Since when are Konoha genin this monstrous?!" cried an Iwa chūnin, watching his comrades fall to what were supposed to be rookie kids.
One blond demon was smashing a spinning sphere of pure chakra into people's guts, and a raven-haired one with glowing red eyes was turning seasoned fighters into human skewers. It defied all logic!
"New tactic! Ignore rear defense for now! Priority targets are those two brats!" The order rippled through the allied forces. If they couldn't face the main monster, they would crush his protégés.
"Hmph. Pathetic." Sasuke and Naruto, now standing back-to-back, shared identical, fierce grins. A wordless understanding passed between them.
Naruto, with his sheer brute force and unpredictable Shadow Clones, became the anvil, charging head-on and drawing every eye. Sasuke, using the speed-enhancing properties of his Lightning Release, became the hammer, flickering behind the distracted enemies. The piercing shriek of the Chidori Sharp Spear became a dreaded sound, now ominously aimed lower.
"Chidori Eisō!""Aaaaaagh—my butt!!"
Namikaze Raimon, even while harrying the Raikage, spared a glance toward the duo. A faint, almost paternal smirk touched his lips. "Heh. Those brats are starting to learn."
His gaze then flicked to Haruno Sakura, who was desperately trying to support with basic academy jutsu and precise but ultimately weak shuriken throws. This was the expected level of a genin.
Naruto and Sasuke were freaks of nature, outliers. At least Sakura had taken her taijutsu training seriously lately; otherwise, in this meat grinder, she'd have been a liability from minute one.
Focus returned to his primary prey. The Raikage, for all his bluster and speed, was on a timer, and Raimon was done with the warm-up. In the entire shinobi world, when it came to pure velocity, if Namikaze Raimon claimed second place, the first was a ghost.
"Having fun yet, Raikage-dono?" Raimon's voice was a taunting whisper. Then, he vanished.
Shunshin no Jutsu blended seamlessly with the principles of Hiraishin. He was simply there, behind the fleeing Kage. "Special delivery!"
CLANG-CLANG-CLANG-CLANG—!
The jackhammering drill, a pulsating nightmare of wind and lightning, met the reinforced Chakra-metal of the buttock guard with a sound like a hundred furious blacksmiths. The rhythmic, industrial noise echoed bizarrely across the battlefield, drawing incredulous looks from friend and foe alike.
One second. Two. Three.
A sliver of triumph flashed across the Raikage's strained face. "It's holding! It's actually holding!"
"Celebrating a bit early, aren't we?" Raimon's ghostly voice held a hint of amusement. He poured more chakra—an endless torrent from the Edo Tensei's infinite well—into the technique. The drill's piston-action accelerated into a blinding, continuous blur.
CLANGCLANGCLANGCLANGCLANG—!
It became a deafening staccato barrage. The Raikage's chakra, poured relentlessly into maintaining both his Lightning Release Armor and reinforcing the guard, began to plummet at a terrifying rate.
"How… how does he still have this much chakra?!" A's mind reeled. Intel said Raimon had limits! He should be using hit-and-run tactics by now, not this sustained, overwhelming assault! He hadn't even used that cursed genjutsu that made you stab yourself!
CRACK… SPLINTER…
The sound was soft but definitive. A web of fractures spread across the prized Chakra-metal plate.
Cold, genuine fear, a sensation foreign to the proud Raikage, drenched his back in sweat. He pushed his speed to the absolute limit, a blue bolt of lightning zigzagging across the field, but the yellow flash was his shadow, his curse.
Finally—SHATTER!
The guard exploded into metallic shards. The drill, unimpeded, found its mark.
"HOO—OOO—OOO—!!"
A sound escaped the Raikage's lips that was not a scream, but a guttural, soul-deep exhalation of pure, unadulterated agony. His face, once a mask of defiant rage, contorted into something unrecognizable.
The drill was in. And it was still pounding.
"Save me!" The mighty Kage's voice was a strained, desperate croak aimed at the distant figures of Ōnoki, Chiyo, Danzō, and Yagura. But their speeds were that of mortals watching gods duel.
Raimon stopped the piston motion. The drill, now stained, was buried deep. A cruel, cold light entered his eyes. "Fire in the hole."
He released his chakra control.
The compacted, volatile storm of Wind and Lightning Release chakra trapped inside the Raikage's body… detonated.
FWOOM-POP!
It was a contained, brutal explosion. The Raikage's formidable physique prevented a catastrophic rupture, but the result was no less devastating. He was thrown forward, collapsing onto the scorched earth, a hand feebly reaching out.
"Medic…! I can… still be saved…!" he groaned, his voice weak.
"Raikage-sama!" A cohort of loyal Cloud shinobi, remembering their pre-battle orders, broke from their engagements. They swarmed their leader, hastily scooping him onto a makeshift stretcher, and vanished into a retreating cloud of smoke and Shunshin, not a single backward glance.
The remaining four leaders watched the Cloud's rapid, orderly retreat with dawning horror. The main offensive pillar of their alliance had just been… decisively and humiliatively punctured.
"How are we supposed to fight this?!" Chiyo barked, her old voice sharp with alarm. Raimon showed zero signs of fatigue. His chakra levels seemed static, a boundless ocean.
Ōnoki floated lower, his suspicious eyes narrowing at Danzō. "Danzō. You're hiding something. What do you know about his current state that we don't?"
"I— I—" Danzō stammered, his mind racing. If they knew Raimon was an immortal Edo Tensei with infinite chakra, their morale would shatter. They'd sue for peace instantly!
Then, a vile inspiration struck. His eye gleamed. "That boy! The blond one, Uzumaki Naruto! He is Raimon's nephew… and Konoha's Nine-Tails Jinchūriki!"
He pointed a shaking finger at Naruto, who was in the thick of the melee. "Capture him! Use him as a hostage! Even Raimon would have to hesitate!"
The suggestion was a lifeline thrown to drowning men. Ōnoki, Chiyo, and even the controlled Yagura shifted their focus. If they couldn't beat the master, they would take the apprentice.
"Ōnoki! Chiyo-baa! You two delay Raimon! The Mizukage and I will secure the jinchūriki!" Danzō commanded, already moving. His rationale was clear—his stolen Sharingan could theoretically help suppress the Tailed Beast if it emerged.
Watching the two split off to intercept Naruto, a cold, contemptuous smile spread across Raimon's face.
'Danzō, you fool. Do you truly not understand the power of the forbidden jutsu you yourself covet?'
He brought his hands together in a single, familiar seal. "Kage Bunshin no Jutsu!" (Shadow Clone Technique)
Not a dozen. Not a score.
POOF! POOF! POOF! POOF! POOF!
Hundreds of smoke clouds erupted around Danzō and Yagura's path. In an instant, a small army of Namikaze Raimons stood between them and Naruto, each wearing an identical expression of detached menace.
"You think you have numbers on your side?" the original Raimon asked, his voice chillingly calm as it echoed from a hundred throats.
"Don't be intimidated!" Chiyo shouted, clinging to logic. "The Shadow Clone technique divides the user's chakra! With this many, his reserves must be paper-thin! We can break through!"
She was correct—for any living shinobi. She had no frame of reference for the obscenity that was the Edo Tensei. Infinite chakra, divided infinitely, was still infinite. It was a mathematical paradox given flesh, as evidenced by a certain reanimated Uchiha who could field an army of Susano'o-clad clones.
"It's over," Danzō whispered, true despair clawing at him. His gambit had failed before it began.
"Chiyo-baa, you've lived long enough," one of the hundreds of Raimons said, his tone almost conversational. "Wouldn't you prefer to pass away peacefully in Sunagakure, surrounded by your puppets?"
He didn't wait for an answer. Hundreds of right hands rose in unison, the air buzzing and whining as chakra coalesced. "Let's make this quick."
"Fūton Raiton: Taijutsu Ōgi – Fūrai Rasen Shōshō Denkō Dokuryū no Doriiru… Sen'nen no Shi!"
A forest of glowing, spiraling drills crackled into existence, each one aimed with lethal intent. Facing this spectral, low-defense group, the basic model was more than sufficient.
Seeing the dreaded formation, Chiyo, Danzō, Ōnoki, and Yagura—in a moment of pure, synchronized, pathetic instinct—all channeled the last dregs of their chakra into their own, now seemingly pathetic, buttock guards. They knew it was futile. The Raikage's fate was their proof. But it was a psychological blanket, a final, feeble gesture of defiance.
"Hiraishin."
The word was whispered by countless mouths. In the blink of an eye, the hundreds of Raimon clones vanished from the front.
They reappeared behind the four Kage-level combatants. And to their sides. And slightly above them.
Hundreds of azure drills, humming with malevolent energy, closed in from every conceivable angle, leaving no room to dodge, no path to flee. The air itself crackled with impending, repetitive doom.
Ōnoki and Chiyo closed their eyes, accepting the inevitable humiliation. Danzō's mind screamed, preparing to activate Izanagi the moment the strike landed, sacrificing a precious Sharingan to rewrite his reality into a feigned death.
From the center of the swirling mass of clones, the original Raimon's voice cut through, laced with dark, triumphant amusement.
"Hehehe… Now, for the formal announcement." He spread his arms wide, as if presenting a gift. "Omae wa… soku o sareteiru."
(You… are surrounded.)