Under the sweep of Soul Perception, nothing could be hidden.
"Tsk, tsk… Kumogakure. These dogs really are despicable and shameless. I underestimated how low they would sink."
"They don't even have a bottom line."
Uchiha Gen stood with his hands clasped behind his back, the black robe patterned with flames billowing in the wind. His eyes narrowed as he shook his head.
"Gen-nii, what's wrong?" Itachi asked, turning to him curiously.
Shisui didn't answer, he was busy exhaling a small stream of fire to keep the shivering boy warm.
"I just swept the area with my perception jutsu," Gen explained, voice calm but edged with contempt. "There are over a hundred Kumogakure shinobi hidden in the snow to the east, south, and west of the canyon. Judging by their chakra, they're at least chūnin."
His gaze shifted northward. "The Fourth Raikage is positioned there. Beside him are two Kage-level chakra signatures, and another presence carrying two distinct chakra types, without doubt, the Two-Tails' jinchūriki."
He let that hang before adding, "Not a single genin among them. The weakest are elite-level chūnin, many of them brimming with chakra far above average. In other words, Kumogakure plans to throw their finest chūnin against you, Itachi."
Itachi froze. The fire at Shisui's lips sputtered out as he too faltered in shock.
The two found their voices together, blurting in unison: "They're really that shameless?!"
"They are," Gen said flatly. "Kumogakure has taken the ninja creed of deceit and pushed it to its ugliest extreme."
Shisui's expression hardened. "Then let's withdraw. Their intentions are clearly malicious."
"No need," Gen said, his lips curling faintly. "With the Flying Thunder God Technique, they can't touch us. Besides…" his eyes gleamed then mumbled with a low voice "there are too many high-quality souls gathered here to waste this chance. The Raikage, the jinchūriki, those must be left alive for now. But the others? Fair game."
"Alright then," Shisui said grimly. "Let's show them the might of the Uchiha."
Itachi nodded firmly. "Yes."
"Good. Let's go down."
Kyouki swooped lower, descending through the storm until they came to rest within sight of the Cloud shinobi—close enough to be glimpsed through the whirling snow.
"There are only three of them?"
The Fourth Raikage stepped forward, his voice like thunder, his presence immense. His short white cape whipped in the wind, muscles like corded iron visible against his dark skin. He strode forward with the force of a boulder rolling downhill, his men trailing behind in silence.
Dressed like that in the heart of winter and not shivering? Gen thought. Impressive physique. But without those layers, he's far less insulated than he looks.
"Think what you like," Gen replied, standing tall on Kyouki's back. His voice was indifferent, his gaze level. "I only want to confirm, are the items prepared?"
The Raikage sneered. "Naturally. Win, and the Lightning Release Body Technique is yours." He raised a hand. C passed him a scroll, which spun once in his palm before he stilled it.
"But it's wasted effort. Even if you win, you'll never achieve anything with it. This isn't a technique just anyone can master."
"Not your concern," Gen said coolly. "Let's begin."
He didn't move, but Itachi stepped forward. Dressed in warm combat gear with a short blade strapped across his back, the boy leapt lightly from Kyouki's side and landed in the snow.
"Kaito," the Raikage commanded.
A figure flashed forward, a tall young man in his twenties with stern features, brown hair, and a long blade strapped to his back. He stood nearly twice Itachi's height, broad and imposing in white battle attire.
"At that age and with that chakra, still labeled a genin?" Gen mused with a smirk. "Kumogakure's standards must be absurd. In Iwagakure, he'd be at least a special jōnin."
The Raikage chuckled darkly. "He was a chūnin once. But he made a mistake and was demoted. It doesn't violate the rules. If you're afraid, surrender now."
"Afraid?" Gen shook his head. "Cheap tricks. Itachi, bury him."
"Yes."
Itachi's expression was composed as he drew the short katana from his back, the chakra-forged steel glinting coldly.
Kaito pulled his own blade free, eyes burning. "Rest assured, Raikage-sama. I'll kill him swiftly."
The two sides withdrew, leaving space for the duel.
Snow swirled.
Two figures faced each other, one small, one large, neither making the first move.
Itachi raised his gaze. Blood-red eyes spun open, two tomoe swirling into place. Kaito's heart lurched and he looked away quickly.
"A two-tomoe Sharingan? The reports were wrong!"
On the ridge, the Raikage and his men stiffened in surprise.
Such talent, awakening two tomoe at only seven years old, was rare even in Uchiha history. But youth meant limits; he couldn't yet draw out the full power.
Itachi's hand flicked. Three shuriken sliced through the snow-laden wind. Kaito could have dodged but pride made him charge. He deflected one with his blade. The other two veered unnaturally, whipping past him at impossible angles.
Itachi dropped his katana, both hands free, and unleashed eight more shuriken in rapid fire.
Steel clashed against steel midair. Sparks showered. Their altered trajectories spun back like hunting hawks, locking onto forehead, throat, eyes, heart.
A murmur rippled through the Kumogakure ranks. What precision!
Even Gen's brows rose. He could manage such a throw himself but only by fusing soul energy into the weapons. For a seven-year-old to achieve it naturally…
Kaito grimaced, blade blurring in a frantic defense.
Sparks flew as he barely fended off the storm. But the moment he thought himself safe, two shuriken on chakra threads curled back from behind piercing the clone's skull and spine.
The body burst into smoke.
From below, two hardened arms shot from the frozen ground, seizing for Itachi's legs.
But the boy was already moving, springing upward with katana in hand, stabbing down. The tip screeched against hardened flesh, sparks flying off the Earth Release armor. Snow and dirt exploded as the real Kaito burst from the ground, grasping for him with a stone-blackened arm.
Caught here, Itachi would have no chance unless he burned Gen's trump card.
But his face remained calm. Twisting midair, he kicked off the hardened arm like a springboard, retreating back. Crisis resolved as fluidly as if rehearsed.
"Tsk," Gen said from above. "So sneaky. A Kumogakure shinobi using Earth Release, your enemy's old specialty."
The Raikage snorted. "Kaito's Lightning Release is decent too. And that Uchiha brat, his instincts are sharp. To spot the clone and weave offense with defense, leaving himself a retreat path… impressive. Shame such genius will fall here."
Itachi landed lightly, frowning. He hadn't actually seen through the shadow clone, he had only realized something was off because of Gen's earlier phrasing.
He clenched his blade tighter. I must be sharper. More aware.
Gen's voice cut the air. "Itachi will not die here. Your subordinate's fate is already written—dark and bloody."
"Hmph. We'll see," the Raikage growled.
On the field, Itachi's fingers blurred through seals.
Wind Release: Great Breakthrough!
He exhaled a gale that roared down the canyon. Downwind, the gust doubled in force, whipping snow into a blinding storm. With his left hand he scattered a bundle of explosive tags into the blast, letting them ride the current.
Such extravagance, this was the wealth of the Uchiha clan on full display.
The Raikage's men frowned.
Lightning techniques would struggle in this storm, Earth Release could help but Kaito had no time. The hand seals were too fast. He threw himself aside, hardening his body in defense.
The tags ignited.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Explosions chained across the battlefield, red fireballs bursting through snow and wind. The ground shook; smoke billowed. Some blasts even reached the Raikage's group, forcing a jōnin to intercept.
When the smoke cleared, Kaito staggered out, blood staining his lip, uniform singed. Alive, but rattled.
"Brat!" he roared. "I'll tear you apart!"
Rage lent him speed. He blurred forward, blade flashing like lightning. But the Sharingan tracked every step.
Itachi met him head-on, blade steady. Kaito grinned savagely, he thought his swordplay could deceive even those eyes.
He slashed for Itachi's neck.
The boy bent backward, spine folding like a bow. Steel whistled over his scalp, slicing hair. His own katana arced upward from below, aimed mercilessly between Kaito's legs.
Cold terror jolted through the older shinobi. He rolled sideways, momentum carrying him away from the killing strike. The two circled back, blades clashing again and again.
Itachi refused direct clashes, flowing like water, deflecting and evading, countering in flashes. Their silhouettes weaved through the snowstorm like a deadly dance.
But Itachi's stamina lagged. His movements slowed fractionally, and Kaito pounced. After a dozen fierce exchanges he found an opening, his blade plunging into Itachi's chest.
"Careful! That's a clone!" a Kumogakure jōnin blurted, too late.
Steel struck flesh yet no blood spilled. The body burst apart in a storm of crows.
Caw. Caw. Caw!
From the swirling snow, the real Itachi revealed himself.
Fire Release: Exploding Flame Bullet!
Three blazing spheres erupted from his lips, each the size of a basin. They streaked forward and detonated.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The canyon lit in crimson fire, snow hissing into steam. Kaito barely dodged, warned by his comrade's shout, escaping with burns instead of death.
But Itachi's chakra was nearly drained. Three consecutive jutsu at his age… he was running on fumes.
"Enough!"
Gen's voice thundered like the storm. His Mangekyō flared open, black tomoe spinning. The killing aura that poured from him silenced the field.
"Raikage-dono," he said coldly, "I demand an explanation. Despicable. Shameless. Your men not only stacked the fight but even interfered with warnings."
Beside him, Shisui's three tomoe whirled, his face flushed with fury.
The Raikage's jaw tightened. What had happened was indeed disgraceful. But protective by nature, he growled, "Raiden. Apologize. Now. And make it sincere."
A tall, dark-skinned shinobi with a brown afro stepped out, head bowed.
Gen's voice was ice. "How merciful, Raikage-dono. To brush over such a grave offense with an apology?"
The Raikage glared. "What more do you want?"
"Seppuku."
"Impossible. He'll apologize and recover his chakra. That is enough," the Raikage said flatly.
"Wishful thinking."
Gen's eyes narrowed. Too much of Itachi's strength has already been revealed. If this opponent is allowed to recover and counterplan, the odds tilt fatally against him. Loss means death.
"Heh. Since you won't give him to me, I'll take him myself."
His voice twisted into something cold, unearthly, like a whisper from hell itself.
"Raiden…"
The Kumogakure shinobi stiffened, head lifting against his will. His eyes locked with Gen's Mangekyō.
Terror bloomed. The genjutsu flared, dragging him into his deepest fears. His features contorted from shock to horror, as if his very soul were being peeled away.
His body sagged. Life force and spirit leaked from him, drawn into the abyss of Gen's gaze.