"Jiraiya of the Three Legendary Sannin… disciple of Sarutobi Hiruzen."
With a sharp whoosh, the sound of something slicing through air echoed. Jiraiya had no chance to react before the Uchiha vanished from sight, reappearing at his original position in the blink of an eye.
He gave a casual flick of his wrist. The dry wooden staff in his hand—no, more like a withered branch—burned faintly at its tip, embers glowing like a cluster of red eyes watching the panting white-haired ninja clutching his bleeding shoulder.
"There are countless ways to understand someone's power," the Uchiha said flatly. "But can you understand ours?"
Jiraiya squinted, his breathing ragged, eyes narrowing behind his mask of confidence. Something felt deeply wrong.
He could sense no chakra. None.
The man's movements—swift, unyielding—weren't driven by chakra at all. It was as if he was moving with nature itself, commanding the world through raw will rather than molded energy.
Yet, there was no killing intent, no malice. Nothing about the Uchiha's presence screamed danger—and that, more than anything, unsettled Jiraiya.
A Konoha shinobi, a supposed Uchiha, using such alien techniques… and one he'd never heard of before?
Could it be, as Tsunade had feared, that these were once-leaf shinobi—veterans resurrected or bound by some secret jutsu?
If that were the case…
Jiraiya's lips curled into a crooked grin, his usual playful bravado slipping through the tension.
"Well, I can't say I know what you senior shinobi are capable of," he quipped, "but if you'd be so kind as to explain it, I'd be mighty grateful."
"My companion's ability," the Uchiha replied quietly, "is to drag himself—and his opponent—into a spiritual realm, where they fight on equal terms."
The Uchiha raised the dead branch slightly, his tone calm but cold.
"Once he's chosen his opponent, no one can interfere. The battle continues until he chooses to release it—or until he loses consciousness… or dies. Only then will your comrades return."
"R–Really now…" Jiraiya blinked, half in awe, half in disbelief. Did he just straight-up explain it?
But before he could process it, the Uchiha flickered again, disappearing with another sharp whip of the air. Jiraiya's instincts screamed—he threw himself into a roll just in time to dodge another strike.
Damn it—he's too fast! I can't even form hand seals!
Every attempt to weave chakra was met with a ruthless blow from that cursed stick. It was humiliating. Every time his fingers touched, a sharp impact cracked across his body—shoulder, ribs, spine—each one timed with inhuman precision.
"A ninja's fight," the Uchiha lectured dispassionately, "depends on preparation. But when you can't gain an advantage in close quarters… this is the result."
He struck again, the withered branch slamming into Jiraiya's back before vanishing out of reach once more.
"If you face an opponent like me," the Uchiha continued evenly, "and you can't intercept his movements immediately, you'll have to feint—expose a deliberate weakness, then counterattack precisely."
Jiraiya grinned through the pain.
"You sure don't hold back for a teacher, do you, senpai?"
"I already am holding back, junior."
His voice was calm, his tone utterly detached. Then—whoosh!—he vanished again.
Jiraiya barely heard the wind whistle before another blow landed across his ribs.
How… how is he moving like this?
This wasn't the Teleportation Jutsu. The Uchiha was erasing the friction of air itself, gliding through space as if unbound by its laws.
"Why are you so fast?" Jiraiya gasped out between heavy breaths. "What kind of technique is that?"
"This is called Shunpo," the Uchiha replied.
"By aligning one's energy with nature and eliminating resistance, it allows instantaneous movement through the air—similar to a high-speed displacement technique, but purer."
"Nature energy? You mean… Sage energy?"
Jiraiya's eyes widened.
He felt the presence—not of chakra, but of the same natural energy he used in Sage Mode… only this was different. Cruder. Wilder.
He's fighting without chakra? Just… pure nature energy?
But how was that even possible? Sage Mode required perfect balance between chakra and nature energy—without it, one would turn to stone. And yet this man… he was using it freely.
"Surprised?"
The Uchiha stood upon a high branch, looking down upon Jiraiya as if from another world. His voice, hoarse but calm, cut through the rustling leaves.
"A thousand years ago, the Sage of Six Paths founded ninshū and shared chakra with the world. Chakra is the aggregation of life energy. Take it away—and life itself collapses."
He raised his head, his three-tomoe Sharingan glinting beneath the moonlight.
"So tell me, Jiraiya. Before chakra existed—how did humanity live?"
Jiraiya froze.
"The answer," the man continued, "is simple. We didn't need chakra. Through will and harmony with nature, mankind survived as it was meant to. Chakra is a foreign creation. It's borrowed power—and all foreign things are rejected by the world that hosts them."
"Compared to raw, violent natural energy, chakra feels gentle and refined—safer, easier to control. But that convenience blinded humanity. And so, they forgot the truth."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Jiraiya barked, tightening his stance.
"I'm talking about shinobi, Jiraiya," the Uchiha said quietly. "You can't fix a system you refuse to understand."
He tilted his head slightly, just enough to dodge Jiraiya's counterkick—and struck back with a single blow that sent him crashing into a massive tree trunk. The forest trembled from the impact.
"Playtime's over, Jiraiya."
Vomiting blood, Jiraiya staggered to one knee. The Uchiha approached, shaking his head faintly, almost regretful.
"If you can't hold on, you'll die here—let that be Konoha's warning."
"At least… try to endure until the other battlefield concludes."
"Heh… sounds easy enough…" Jiraiya wheezed, forcing a grin.
As the Uchiha's withered staff began to glow once more, Jiraiya could feel it—the strange heat, the almost spiritual pressure radiating from it.
"—Mimicry Hadō #4: Byakurai. (Pale Lightning)"
"Left!"
Jiraiya ducked by reflex. A streak of white lightning split the air where his head had been an instant earlier, followed by a deafening thunderclap.
The Uchiha emerged from the light, swinging his staff downward. The burning tip now blazed crimson, the air distorting from the heat.
I can't hold back anymore.
Jiraiya's body moved on instinct.
A torrent of chakra erupted through his limbs, enveloping him in a shimmering blue aura as faint sigils spread across his skin.
"—Still Blood Armor!"
"Katsujin—strike."
The collision was apocalyptic.
A fireball dozens of meters wide rose into the night sky, lighting the entire forest ablaze. Flames roared outward, swallowing the trees and painting the world red.
Through the inferno came the sound of friction—wood against metal, grit against bone.
Jiraiya straightened, bathed in blue light, unharmed within the wreckage of his own explosion.
"Gotta hand it to that Aizen Sōsuke guy," he muttered, glancing at the intricate blue markings on his arms. "His inventions are something else. Expensive as hell, but damn effective."
"Aizen… Sōsuke."
"Oh? You know him too, senpai? Great guy, right?"
The Uchiha's gaze deepened.
The name seemed to strike a chord within him—a flicker of conflict beneath the calm.
Jiraiya smirked, brushing off embers and standing tall amid the flames.
"So, how am I doing now, huh, senpai? Any more lessons you'd like to share? I'll be all ears."
"Plenty," came the quiet reply.
The Uchiha closed his eyes for a moment, then vanished once more. A heartbeat later, he was behind Jiraiya, whispering into the night:
"But this feeling… being a pawn in someone else's hand… it's unbearable."
BOOM!
Another column of fire erupted skyward.
Yet amid the blaze, a faint blue silhouette stood unflinching—arms crossed, eyes steady.
As the two figures locked gazes through the inferno, the next instant saw them clash again—white flame and blue aura colliding in the burning forest beneath the cold, watchful moon.