"It's almost time."
Toshiro's sharp gaze swept across the chaotic battlefield, taking in the sight of shinobi locked in relentless combat. His focus eventually settled on Shiromari, the massive summoned lizard wreaking havoc in the midst of the fray.
Then, emerging from the chaos, a dark red figure stepped forward to confront the beast—the Fourth Mizukage, Karatachi Yagura.
"Seems I've changed more than I thought."
Gone was the timid boy who once hesitated to take a life. The battlefield had hardened him. Now, even as the cries of dying comrades and foes filled the air, his heart remained steady—unshaken.
No… more than that. His blood was boiling.
"Send the signal. Everyone, advance—full-scale assault!"
His voice carried unwavering authority as he issued the command. The moment had arrived for an all-out offensive.
Turning to Mimura, who had just returned from the field, Toshiro continued, "Mimura, I'm leaving the next phase of command to you."
With a final glance at the battlefield, he committed the entire layout of the fight to memory. Then, without hesitation, he leaped from his elevated position—diving straight into the war below.
"Hokage-sama…"
Mimura opened his mouth, intending to dissuade the Hokage from personally entering the battlefield. But as his eyes fell on the Fourth Mizukage, standing imposingly on the other side, the words died in his throat.
Step by step, Toshiro began to move forward, his pace gradually quickening. In his left hand, he gripped his clan's legendary Gunbai, while his right held the Kusanagi, once wielded by Orochimaru. Dressed in a white robe adorned with flame patterns, he was like a blazing arrow, cutting straight toward the heart of the battlefield.
Nine hundred meters… seven hundred meters…
With each step, his breathing grew more controlled, his movements more fluid. His chakra surged, reaching its peak—boiling with unrestrained power.
"Watch out!"A Kiri ninja, having just slain a Konoha shinobi, caught sight of Toshiro charging toward him from the corner of his eye.
For reasons he couldn't quite explain, a cold shiver ran down his spine. He swallowed hard, his grip tightening around his kunai. Beads of sweat—thick as raindrops—rolled down his forehead.
Momentum… was an inexplicable force.
Just like the legendary Madara from the original story—who single-handedly charged into an army of tens of thousands, his sheer presence alone suppressing them—Toshiro carried a similar, albeit lesser, force of will.
Though he lacked Madara's unparalleled battle experience and devastating power, to the ordinary Kiri ninjas, his advance was no less terrifying.
The moment he surged forward, adrenaline spiked in his enemies, their throats turning dry with unease.
With effortless precision, he cut down a Kiri ninja obstructing his path. Toshiro's Sharingan gleamed crimson, his pupils flickering left and right, absorbing every movement around him. Yet his pace never faltered.
His form blurred—an instant later, he was behind another Kiri ninja. The Kusanagi Blade pierced clean through the man's chest, a swift and merciless strike.
Then, something peculiar happened.
As his Sharingan swept over the battlefield, a strange clarity took hold. It was as if he could see the very flow of combat itself—as though the next moves of the surrounding Kiri ninjas had already been written before him.
He knew how they would react. He saw their counterattacks before they even struck.
Every action, every movement, every intention—laid bare within his mind.
He needed only to close the distance, and with effortless precision, the Kusanagi Blade would claim another life. No wasted movement, no unnecessary exertion—each strike executed with chilling efficiency.
A slight step backward—just enough to evade the attack from behind. In the same motion, he used his Gunbai, deflecting a barrage of kunai from the flank. With a flick of his wrist, he sent them whistling back toward their origin.
His blade extended behind him, as if anticipating the next move.
A Kiri ninja, having just launched an attack, lunged forward to follow through with his strike. As though orchestrated by fate itself, his chest aligned perfectly with the waiting tip of Kusanagi's sword.
As if offering his heart willingly to the blade.
So seamless, so natural—as if the battle itself had choreographed their demise.
Another swift thrust. Another life extinguished. The ninja sword in his grasp pulsed with a brilliant blue glow, illuminating the battlefield like a flickering storm.
Seeing Toshiro cut down his comrades with ruthless efficiency, a Kiri ninja Jōnin forced a Konoha ninja back with a single sword strike and lunged toward Toshiro, blade flashing in the air.
"Useless."
Toshiro spared him a single glance—just another Jōnin, hardly a threat.
"Since you're so eager to die, I'll grant your wish!"
His true target wasn't the foot soldiers locked in combat but the Fourth Mizukage, locked in battle with Shiromari in the distance. However, if this man wanted to throw his life away, Toshiro had no qualms about obliging.
Just as he was about to pull his Kusanagi sword free from the dying Kiri ninja before him, something unexpected happened.
The mortally wounded shinobi, coughing up blood, clamped both hands onto the blade impaling his chest, forcing it deeper into his own body.
A final, desperate surge of chakra erupted from his hands, locking Toshiro's weapon in place.
Even as blood streamed from his mouth, his voice rang out across the battlefield in a final, defiant roar:
"Yagami! Kill him and avenge me!"
"Impressive resolve."
Toshiro gave the Kusanagi sword a casual tug, but it remained lodged in the Kiri ninja's grasp. He didn't panic. Instead, he offered a rare nod of acknowledgment.
"But... this level of resistance won't stop me."
Calmly, he turned his Gunbai, effortlessly deflecting the Kiri ninja's feeble sword strike. His voice was steady, indifferent.
Then, chakra surged through his arm, coating the Kusanagi sword in a shimmering layer of blue-green energy.
Whoosh!
With a sharp motion, his right arm pulled back, tearing the blade free in a spray of blood. At the same time, his left hand flicked the fan, unleashing a powerful burst of recoil force.
"Damn it!"
The Kiri ninja instantly knew he had made a fatal mistake. The moment his blade struck Toshiro's fan, a violent backlash wrenched his arm upward, throwing him off balance. His body staggered—his defenses shattered.
A final flash of steel.
Before he could recover, Toshiro's blade found its mark.
His world faded to black.
Swoosh!
A faint whistle sliced through the air—the sound of a blade cutting swiftly.
—
"Damn it!"
Raizou exhaled sharply, twisting his body just in time to evade the Kiri ninja's strike.
He was surrounded. Three Kiri ninjas closed in, their expressions cold and merciless. Yet, there was not a hint of fear in his heart.
Instead, their overwhelming numbers only strengthened his resolve to fight to the end.
So what if they had the advantage? Raizou had already steeled himself for the ultimate sacrifice—for Konoha.
"What a shame."
He could feel it—his chakra reserves nearly depleted, the exhaustion weighing down his limbs. His grip tightened around his battle-worn ninja sword, its once-sharp edge now dulled and curled from relentless combat.
"Is this... my limit?"
His gaze remained locked on the trio of Kiri ninjas before him. Their movements were precise, their teamwork seamless. He knew—if nothing unexpected happened—this would be the end.
His only regret?
That he couldn't drag them all to the underworld with him.
"Finish him—together!"
The leading Jōnin barked the order, his sharp eyes fixed on Raizou's trembling hands.
The very hands that had claimed the lives of so many Kiri ninjas... now shaking from exhaustion.
"Water Style: Water Fang Bullet!" x 3
Three swirling vortexes emerged from the puddle beneath Raizou's feet, twisting into jagged, rotating fangs before surging toward his lower body.
But that wasn't all.
Whoosh!
A barrage of kunais whistled through the air, hurtling toward him from the flank. Fortunately, there were no explosive tags among them—a small mercy that allowed him a brief sigh of relief.
Ding! Ding! Ding!
With no other choice, he sprang into the air, his sword flashing as he parried the oncoming shurikens. Just as he finished deflecting them, a sudden gleam of steel caught his eye—a blade, slicing toward him with deadly precision.
Clang!
Ignoring the few remaining airborne shurikens, Raizou swung his sword with all his might, intercepting the powerful slash.
Puff! Puff! Puff!
Several shurikens embedded themselves into the Jōnin's vest with dull, fleshy thuds.
Pain flared through Raizou's body, but he gritted his teeth, twisting in midair to regain his balance.
He knew—his opponent wouldn't let the attack end there.
And sure enough, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the Kiri ninja who had launched the ninjutsu and shurikens silently repositioning—closing in from behind and below, ready to strike.
A Fatal Blow Loomed.
With his free left hand, Raizou discreetly gripped several explosive tags, steeling himself for his final act. If he had to die, he was determined to take an enemy with him.
Swish!
A streak of blue light sliced through the air.
Just as Raizou braced himself for a mutual demise, he found himself frozen in place—not from fear, but from sheer surprise. Before he could even react, a deep crimson spread across the chest of the enemy lunging at him.
The Kiri ninja staggered, twitched twice, and collapsed lifelessly to the ground.
But it wasn't just his immediate attacker. The enemies positioned behind and below him—those who had been poised to strike the fatal blow—had also been cut down in an instant, their bodies now lying in pools of their own blood.
"Hokage-sama…?"
His vision fixed on the figure moving past him, a gust of wind following in his wake. The man effortlessly cut through enemies, barely slowing as he pressed forward.
There was something about his presence—his sheer, unrelenting momentum—that sent a surge of energy through Raizou's exhausted body.
His blood, which had been cooling in the face of death, now pulsed with renewed vigor.
"Fighting for a man like that… doesn't seem like such a bad idea."
Chakra surged within him. Strength returned to his trembling right hand.
With renewed fire, Raizou swung his blade, cutting down a Kiri ninja who had been attacking his Konoha comrades. Then, with fire in his voice, he roared to his still-stunned allies:
"Kill… Kill every last one of these Kiri ninjas!!"
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