First Person — Gaara POV
Location: Allied Shinobi Forces Main Camp, Edge of the Battlefield
The sky was gray. Not stormy… but solemn. Quiet. Heavy.
Before me, an ocean of shinobi stretched out farther than the eye could see. Thousands upon thousands, each wearing the symbol of their homeland—Konoha, Suna, Kiri, Kumo, Iwa. Different colors. Different headbands. Different bloodlines.
And yet, here they stood. Together.
For the first time in history… we were one village.
I took a slow breath, feeling the weight of it settle in my chest. The elevated cliff they'd built for the commanders gave me a clear view of every face down below. Nervous. Fearful. Hopeful.
I stepped forward.
"My name is Gaara of the Sand. I stand before you not as a Kage… but as one of you."
The words came easier than I thought they would. Clear. Honest. Measured.
"A long time ago, I lived only for myself. I trusted no one, cared for no one. I was a weapon forged by hatred, by pain… by the mistakes of those who came before me, I have become the Kazekage and yet I continued to wage war against some of us, It was just the Nature of the Shinobi World."
A few eyes dropped. Some nodded. They knew that pain.
I paused. Let the silence hang.
"But ask yourselves: how much longer will the cycle continue? How many more generations must suffer before we say enough?"
The wind tugged at my robes.
"The enemy we face now is not of one village or one nation. He is not driven by borders or politics. He is a shadow that seeks to erase our will, our dreams, our very souls."
I clenched my fist slowly.
"We will not let him."
A rumble spread through the crowd. Fists clenched. Eyes narrowed. Heads raised.
"Today, we fight not as Suna or Konoha or Kiri. We fight as one. As the Allied Shinobi Forces."
My voice rose. Stronger now. Steeled.
"For our future. For the lives we protect. For those who cannot fight alongside us—but live because we choose to."
I raised my hand.
"Let this day be the last day the world tries to divide us. Let our unity become the nightmare of those who would shatter peace."
And finally—
"Together, we march to war."
They roared. Like thunder across the land. A thousand voices answering mine. A thousand hearts beating in unison.
As I stepped down from the cliff, my gaze found Naruto near the front. He gave me a firm nod, a fire in his eyes.
The war had begun.
XXXXXXXX- Battles Begin!
Location: Battlefield Outskirts, Border of the Great Nations
Time: Moments After Gaara's Speech
The wind howled across the desolate plain—an eerie, unnatural silence hanging in the air as both armies stood still, moments before the storm.
On one side stood the Allied Shinobi Forces. A sea of shinobi from all five great nations, their ranks disciplined and broad, organized into tactical units by specialty: sensory types, medic-nin, front-line assault, long-range support, sealing corps, and more. A multi-colored tide of defiance against the end of the world.
At the front of the formation, Gaara of the Sand—Fifth Kazekage—stood tall, his gourd shifting slightly with the breeze, his eyes calm and clear as they swept the battlefield. To his left stood Kitsuchi of Iwa, leading the heavy assault division. On his right, Darui of Kumo, commanding the first battalion with lightning dancing faintly around his fingertips.
Behind them, the commanders had taken their positions, with Shikaku Nara acting as the central strategist from the rear, issuing orders across the battlefield through Inoichi's sensory transmission team.
And across from them…
The White Zetsu Army surged from the ground in grotesque waves. Tens of thousands of chalk-white clones, all sharing the same face, crawling out of the earth like a tide of decay. No fear. No mind. Just endless numbers and a single, shared will.
Behind them, their true horror revealed itself.
The Edo Tensei corps.
Dozens of glowing, reanimated shinobi stood in the distance. Ghosts of the past, clad in cracked armor and tattered flak jackets. Men and women who had once shaken the world—dragged from the grave to do it once more.
Kage-level threats. Legendary swordsmen. Deadly tacticians. Entire generations of war incarnate.
And at the very center, controlling them all with a blank, emotionless face—Kabuto Yakushi, speaking through one of his summoned avatars, watching everything unfold like a twisted puppeteer.
The two armies stared across the scarred terrain.
A breath.
Then—
The ground erupted.
Gaara raised a single hand. "Advance."
And the Allied Forces surged forward like a tidal wave of chakra and steel.
Shouts rang across the battlefield—orders, war cries, desperate prayers. Earth cracked beneath charging feet as ninja leapt into motion, jutsu flaring from every direction.
Fireballs soared across the sky, colliding with walls of water. Lightning arced through the air. Wind-style vortexes tore through formations of Zetsu as sealing teams moved into position behind the front lines.
Darui led the charge against the Kinkaku and Ginkaku brothers, his black lightning carving through the first wave of reanimated shinobi. Kitsuchi slammed the ground, sending massive shockwaves through the enemy ranks, crushing dozens of Zetsu under earth and stone.
Above it all, Gaara took to the sky on a platform of sand, overseeing the battlefield with eyes of resolve. With a twist of his fingers, massive sand arms erupted from the earth, binding entire squadrons of Zetsu and dragging them down.
From the distance, Edo Tensei shinobi retaliated.
Pakura of the Scorch Style.
Gari of the Explosion Corps.
The Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist.They struck with cruel precision, their minds controlled, their movements laced with muscle memory forged in blood.
Allied shinobi screamed. Some fell.
But others rose.
Naruto's clones, spread across the battlefield, began to appear in bursts of golden chakra—shadow doppelgängers enhanced by Kurama's chakra cloak, reinforcing divisions and rallying shaken squads.
"Don't back down!" one clone shouted. "We're not losing anyone today!"
Hope surged again.
Steel clashed with chakra. Past clashed with present. Will clashed with fate.
The Fourth Great Ninja War had begun—and the world held its breath.
Location: Sector C - Lightning Division FrontTime: Early Hours of the War
The battlefield trembled beneath clashing forces, but in one sector, the very air felt heavier—charged with a dangerous electricity that stung the skin and buzzed against every nerve.
Darui of the Storm Release stood at the forefront, his dark cloak fluttering, one hand crackling with black lightning.
Before him, two towering figures emerged from the smoke, each radiating a deadly, corrupted chakra.
Kinkaku and Ginkaku.
The Gold and Silver Brothers—shinobi turned monsters, resurrected through Edo Tensei. Their eyes glowed unnaturally, and their bodies crackled with Nine-Tails chakra, their inherited power from surviving inside the beast's gut for two weeks long ago.
"Yo," Kinkaku said with a twisted grin, shouldering the massive Banana Palm Fan, one of the Five Treasured Tools of the Sage of Six Paths. "This dude the Raikage's pet?"
"Doesn't matter," Ginkaku growled, gripping the Seven Star Sword in one hand and the Crimson Gourd in the other. "He's about to be sealed in a word."
Darui took a slow breath, eyes locked on them. "So... it's really you two. Just my luck. I get stuck with the biggest freaks first."
A flicker of lightning danced around his fingers.
"I won't let you get past this front."
Without another word, the brothers moved.
Kinkaku launched forward with unnatural speed, chakra exploding from his body like a cloak of fire. Ginkaku followed, releasing a stream of bullets from the Kohaku no Jōhei—every one laced with demonic chakra.
Darui weaved hand signs mid-dash. "Storm Style: Laser Circus!"
Beams of crackling light zigzagged across the battlefield, tearing through dozens of Zetsu as they honed in on the brothers. Kinkaku blocked with the Banana Fan, dispersing the chakra beams with a gust of wind, while Ginkaku launched a chain of words with the Seven Star Sword.
"Speak again, and I'll seal your soul."
Darui's mouth twitched.
"Tch… I'm a talker, you know."
The words were his own trap—his soul began to resonate with the Crimson Gourd.
He flared his chakra in response, pushing back against the weapon's pull.
"You think I didn't study you?"
In a flash, Darui appeared behind Ginkaku, his Black Lightning Blade extending from his forearm like a lance. He pierced through Ginkaku's back—but the body didn't fall.
Edo Tensei.
"Right. Can't kill you that way."
Suddenly, Ginkaku spun, slamming the gourd toward him—but Darui vanished in a crackle of light, reappearing above, firing down a barrage of Storm Style bolts.
Kinkaku roared and entered full Nine-Tails Cloak Mode, tails of fiery chakra lashing out like beasts.
The shockwave threw Darui back, skidding across the battlefield.
"Plan B, then..."
Behind him, members of the Sealing Corps moved in, forming a barrier. Darui flicked blood from his lip, glaring up at the monster wearing Kumo's stolen legacy like a second skin.
"I'm sorry, I'm gonna have to go all out here."
He reached into his pouch—and pulled out a small storage scroll, unraveling it to reveal…
The Kohaku no Jōhei, now purified and ready.
"Let's see if I can use your toys better than you."
The battlefield sizzled with residual lightning, steam curling from scorched earth. Kinkaku stood at the center, a storm of crimson chakra tails writhing behind him like serpents. His golden armor shimmered with hellish power—the distorted result of consuming the Nine-Tails' flesh long ago.
He was no longer just a man.
He was a beast wearing the face of one.
Darui stood opposite, battered, his dark skin scraped with ash and sweat, black lightning still crackling faintly along his forearm. Behind him, the Sealing Division—Konoha and Kumo shinobi working together—formed a triangular formation, ready with barrier talismans and chakra chains.
Ginkaku charged once more, yelling with a voice that echoed like thunder. "Let's rip him apart, Kinkaku!"
Darui moved like a bolt—sidestepping Ginkaku, then weaving behind him in a blur of Body Flicker and Black Lightning, planting explosive tags along his back mid-dash.
"Eat this—!"
The tags detonated in a controlled burst, shredding chunks of his resurrected body. It was temporary, but enough.
The moment Ginkaku staggered, the sealing team launched forward. Chakra chains whipped out from their palms, snaring his limbs and torso. Paper talismans slammed against his chest, and one shinobi dropped the Sealing Urn beside him, glowing with containment chakra.
Ginkaku snarled. "You think this will hold me?!"
Darui held up the Seven Star Sword—still coated with Ginkaku's chakra—and whispered a single word:"Trash."
The sword pulsed. The word resonated.
Ginkaku's body lit up.
The gourd reacted.
"No—!"
In a violent pull of vacuum-like chakra, Ginkaku's soul was yanked into the Crimson Gourd, the final piece falling into place.
Sealed.
"Ginkaku…!" Kinkaku's roar shook the clearing.
Rage twisted his already mutated features. Six tails of chakra exploded out from him, vaporizing the ground beneath. His body distorted further, growing claws, fangs, horns—his Nine-Tails Cloak now pushing the edge of full transformation.
"SEAL ME?! I'LL KILL YOU ALL!"
He rushed forward like a living meteor, chakra erupting in all directions.
Darui gritted his teeth. "All units! Now!"
The Sealing Division's chakra barrier activated mid-charge, forming a dome of light around the rampaging beast. Dozens of shinobi locked hands, feeding chakra into the dome, reinforcing it against every hit.
Kinkaku smashed against the walls of the barrier like a caged demon, tearing gouges into the field as he fought to escape. The sealing tags flared brighter with each strike, slowly enclosing his rampaging form.
Then—
Darui tossed the Banana Palm Fan into the dome.
"Return to silence."
With one final pulse of black lightning, he pointed two fingers toward the sky.
"Storm Style: Quaking Thunderstorm Cannon!"
A crackling sphere of compressed energy detonated above the dome, sending a jolt of disruptive chakra downward.
Kinkaku screamed.
The tails vanished one by one.
His body shrank.
The barrier pulsed… and then contracted violently.
Sealed.
Only silence remained.
Darui exhaled and let his shoulders drop. His blade dispersed, lightning sizzling away into nothing.
The other shinobi erupted in cheers, but Darui barely reacted—his eyes were still on the barrier, where two of Kumo's most dangerous legends had just been put to rest once more.
"Legend or not… You're still shinobi," he muttered. "And this is war."
Location: Sector ?-Woods
The wind howled across the broken field, carrying with it ash, chakra residue, and the stench of war.
Itachi Uchiha stood in silence, crimson eyes fixed on the man emerging from the enemy ranks—his face still wrapped, Sharingan arm sealed beneath cloth, that familiar hunch in his posture unchanged even in undeath.
Danzo Shimura.
Even in death, he clung to his stolen possessions.
"It's fitting," Itachi murmured, Mangekyō spinning slowly in both eyes. "That we meet again on this battlefield, with no more secrets left between us."
Danzo narrowed his eyes. "You should be grateful, Itachi. For all the peace your betrayal bought—without men like me willing to dirty our hands, Konoha wouldn't exist."
Itachi's expression remained unreadable. "Peace built on genocide is not peace. It is silence—gained through fear. I only ever tolerated you… because I was alive."
Now, there was nothing left to hold back.
In a blur, the two vanished, their clash sending up shockwaves that shattered the ruined terrain. Kunai clashed, Sharingan spun. Wind bullets whistled through the air, intercepted by walls of flame. Danzo's arm was revealed—ten Sharingan glowing maliciously as the Izanagi technique activated with every fatal blow he received.
Itachi's sword plunged into Danzo's chest—only for the man's form to shimmer, dissolve, and reappear a few meters away.
"Izanagi," Itachi muttered. "Still clinging to delusion."
"You have no right to lecture me," Danzo spat, performing a series of one-handed signs. "Wind Style: Vacuum Serial Waves!"
Razor-sharp arcs of wind carved across the field. Itachi weaved through them like smoke, landing on a crumbled boulder, Mangekyō still turning.
"Then I won't."
He raised his hand.
"Tsukuyomi."
Danzo's eyes widened—but too late.
In a flash, the world around him twisted.
In the illusory world, time crawled as Itachi stood before him—silent, cold, unrelenting. Thousands of blades pierced Danzo's body one by one, again and again, the pain looping endlessly.
Back in reality, only a heartbeat had passed. Danzo staggered, panting, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth.
"You… damn you…!"
"You're running out of lives," Itachi said, stepping forward slowly. "You always feared the Uchiha. But it was your own corrupt heart you should have feared most."
Danzo roared and unleashed the Binding Cursed Seal, trying to paralyze Itachi's body—but Itachi, already wise to the technique, had closed his eyes.
"Too late."
From the gourd strapped behind him, the Yata Mirror shimmered forth, forming a barrier of absolute defense.
In his other hand, the Totsuka Blade materialized—ethereal, glowing with sealing power.
Danzo lunged, but he was slower now—only two eyes remained on his stolen arm. One final Izanagi remained.
But Itachi never gave him the chance.
With precision honed by war, sorrow, and understanding, Itachi drove the blade into Danzo's chest—not as an execution, but as a conclusion.
"Your delusions die with you," he whispered.
The blade sucked Danzo inward, his spirit dragged into a genjutsu dream for eternity—trapped in a world he could never manipulate again.
Silence.
The battlefield settled.
From the ridge, shinobi of the Allied Forces watched, stunned. Some bowed their heads in silent respect. Others simply stared.
Itachi stood alone.
He turned away without a word.
The past had been buried—again.
But the war was far from over.
The forest beyond the battlefield was thick with mist and the faint hum of residual chakra. Trees stood like ancient sentinels, many scarred from previous skirmishes. The ground was littered with ash, leaves, and broken weapons—remnants of earlier clashes.
Itachi and Orochimaru moved in silence, their shared goal as unspoken as it was dangerous: find and eliminate Kabuto Yakushi, the one controlling the Edo Tensei.
"This fog…" Orochimaru hissed softly, golden eyes scanning their surroundings. "He's nearby. I can sense his chakra trail lingering through these woods. Like a serpent shedding its skin."
Itachi didn't respond immediately. His Sharingan scanned the tree line.
Then—it happened.
A shift in the air.
A presence that pulled at his memory, deep and sharp like the echo of a name half-forgotten.
Leaves rustled as a lone figure stepped forward from the shadows. Cloaked in the uniform of the old Konoha ANBU, a single glowing green eye stared back at them—its Mangekyō Sharingan spinning slowly.
Itachi froze.
"…Shisui."
The figure said nothing at first.
Then, in a calm, low voice: "Itachi… it's been a long time."
Orochimaru raised a brow. "Interesting. So even he's been reanimated."
Itachi's gaze didn't shift. He didn't blink.
"How?" Itachi asked. "Your body was never found."
"Not completely," Shisui replied. "Kabuto must have found enough—chakra residue, blood, maybe even a severed eye socket from my last battle."
Orochimaru chuckled. "That little worm always was persistent."
Shisui took another step forward, his presence solemn. "You've allied with Orochimaru now, Itachi?"
"He's useful. And he wants Kabuto gone almost as much as I do."
"I see." Shisui's tone was unreadable. "Then I'll have to stop you here."
Itachi's brows knit faintly. "You're being controlled."
Shisui closed his eyes briefly. "Somewhat. But the will to protect the village still burns in me. Kabuto has twisted that… and directed it at you."
Orochimaru hissed. "He's stalling us. Typical Kabuto move."
Itachi stepped forward, sliding his coat sleeves back and activating his Mangekyō. "Go. I'll handle him."
Orochimaru smirked and slithered backward into the trees. "Try not to get too sentimental."
Now, only silence remained between the two Uchiha.
Shisui raised his hand slowly, a faint glow of greenish chakra flickering to life at his palm. "If I'm forced to fight… I'll make it quick."
Itachi drew his blade.
"I wouldn't expect anything less."
They vanished in an instant—clashing under the canopy with such speed that even the trees seemed unsure what had struck them. Blades met with sparks. Genjutsu flared. Eyes spun. In a single heartbeat, Itachi found himself caught in Shisui's illusion—a mirror world of their childhood, standing on the old bridge where they used to train.
"You've changed," Shisui's illusionary voice echoed. "But the burden within your heart remains."
"I still carry your eye," Itachi replied calmly within the illusion. "And your will. I won't let Kabuto use you against everything you died to protect."
The illusion shattered, and the battle resumed in reality—intense, beautiful, and tragic.
Two ghosts of the Uchiha clan, forced to fight by the manipulations of others.
And somewhere, deeper in the forest… Orochimaru crept closer to Kabuto's lair, a wicked grin forming on his lips.
XXXXXXXX-Leaf Division
The battlefield crackled with tension. Explosions rumbled in the distance, jutsu collided mid-air, and the cries of war echoed through the valleys. Amid the chaos, a strange stillness fell over one corner of the front lines—an eerie quiet that felt like a wound in the storm.
Naruto Uzumaki stood still, the wind tugging at his cloak, eyes narrowed at the figure emerging from the haze of battle dust.
The man wore the standard flak vest of a Konoha jōnin, silver hair unkempt, and a single visible Sharingan glowing faintly in one eye.
"...Kakashi-sensei…"
His voice cracked with disbelief.
The reanimated Kakashi raised his head slowly, and for a moment—just a second—there was warmth in his expression. "Yo."
Naruto's hands trembled slightly at his sides. "I… I saw you die in the Explosion during the Chunin Exams. Why are you here?"
"I'm not," Kakashi replied, his tone neutral now. "This body isn't mine anymore. But the technique that brought me back… still allows me to think, at least for now."
Naruto took a deep breath, Sage Mode swirling around him with golden chakra threads. "Then I'll free you. I promise."
Kakashi nodded once, then in a blur of movement, he charged. His chakra blade met Rasengan mid-air, and sparks flew as student and teacher clashed with brutal intensity. Each strike between them was filled with familiarity and hesitation—a dance of memories, of past lessons, of shared pain.
Elsewhere on the battlefield, the sky darkened ominously.
A booming crash sent dozens of Allied shinobi flying as Reanimated Nagato descended in a blur of crimson hair and glowing Rinnegan eyes. His black rods floated behind him like malevolent wings. Corpses from both sides twitched and rose, puppets to his chakra.
But stepping between him and the army… was a man who once called him student.
Jiraiya of the Sannin, still and resolute.
"Well, Nagato…" he said with a sad smile. "Didn't think we'd meet like this again."
Nagato said nothing at first. His expression was devoid of emotion. The Rinnegan glowed fiercely.
"You… were my sensei," he finally muttered. "And I died… for a dream that failed."
"I never thought peace was easy," Jiraiya replied, his voice calm. "But I believed in you."
The air shimmered as Nagato raised his arm. "Then let me show you what I've become."
Black rods shot from the ground like spears. Jiraiya sidestepped, his eyes narrowing. His hands blurred into signs, and a wave of oil and fire roared forward.
Sage Mode activated, the old Sannin leapt through the flames, eyes sharp, frog summons at the ready.
The two crashed like titans—Rasengan vs. Almighty Push, summons vs. puppets, teacher vs. disciple.
Back near the front, Naruto had landed a clean hit, forcing Kakashi to a knee.
"End it," Kakashi rasped. "Before I'm turned against the others."
Naruto's eyes burned. "I won't let them use you."
He formed a Rasenshuriken in one hand and, with a heavy heart, threw it—imbued with sage chakra and love.
Light exploded, and the bindings of the Edo Tensei began to crackle around Kakashi's frame.
"…Thanks, Naruto," Kakashi murmured, his form beginning to crumble to ash. "You've really grown."
And then, he was gone.
Naruto fell to one knee, panting, fists clenched.
"I won't let anyone else suffer like this."
XXXXXXXXX-Lightning Division
A thunderous boom split the battlefield.
Dust and wind howled through the ravaged terrain as two legends—both brought back by Edo Tensei—stood facing one another like titans from a bygone era.
Minato Namikaze, the Fourth Hokage, stood calmly amid the storm, golden hair fluttering in the wind. His face bore the same calm resolve that once earned him the title of Yellow Flash.
Across from him, surrounded by cracked earth and craters from his own immense speed, stood Ay, the Third Raikage. His body crackled with raw lightning, muscles coiled with unnatural might even in death.
The two reanimated warriors locked eyes.
"This battlefield is no place for pride," Minato said softly, raising a kunai between two fingers. "But I can't let you continue hurting these shinobi."
Ay's response was a wordless snort. His body surged forward, the earth shattering beneath his feet as he launched into a blinding sprint. The Hell Stab, his one-fingered spear of pure lightning, gleamed at the ready.
Minato vanished.
A golden flash cut the air—and Ay missed. His spear pierced through boulders like paper, but Minato was already behind him.
The Flying Thunder God kunai danced through the air. Minato reappeared in flashes of light, dodging Ay's rampaging strikes with elegance that seemed almost effortless.
But Ay wasn't called the strongest Raikage for nothing. With sheer willpower, he predicted Minato's placements and began countering—forcing the Hokage to shift tactics.
"You're still fast," Minato muttered, reappearing behind him with a Rasengan. "But I've already measured your rhythm."
Boom.
The Rasengan collided with Ay's back—exploding in a burst of blue light. Ay crashed into the ground, skidding through stone and mud. But slowly, impossibly, he stood up again—cracks forming across his reanimated body.
"I died undefeated," Ay growled. "I won't fall again."
Minato's brow furrowed, watching as lightning flared even more wildly around the Raikage's form. But he remained composed.
"I'll help you rest, Raikage-sama," Minato whispered, flicking another marked kunai.
Ay lunged for one final charge—roaring, his entire body a missile of destruction.
Minato disappeared once more, and in the next instant, reappeared inches from Ay's chest—Rasenshuriken already formed and spinning.
"Forgive me."
The jutsu struck clean. The impact echoed across the field like a thunderclap.
When the dust cleared, Ay's body lay motionless, the Edo Tensei beginning to unravel.
Ay looked up at Minato, a flicker of clarity in his eyes. "Still… faster…"
Minato knelt down. "Rest now, Raikage-sama. Your strength has already protected your people."
The wind carried away the ashes of lightning and pride.
XXXXXXXXXXX
The wind howled with a hiss of tension.
Ash and chakra smoke curled over the ruined battlefield, where streaks of fire and flashes of lightning crackled like dueling gods. Amid the chaos, two figures stood locked in a storm of ancient hatred—neither alive, both resurrected by Edo Tensei, yet their wills as fierce as ever.
Tobirama Senju, the Second Hokage, stood with his arms folded into a hand sign, water shimmering at his feet, his white hair swaying like ghost-fire. His eyes, sharp and calculating, bore into the man before him.
Opposite him stood Izuna Uchiha, clad in black armor, eyes blazing with Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan. His chakra flared violently around him, black flames still sizzling from a missed Amaterasu.
"Tobirama," Izuna growled, voice cold. "How poetic, to meet again on the battlefield… after death."
Tobirama's expression didn't waver. "Your clan may have been ended after my life long ago, Izuna… but I still never forgot the Uchiha. And I never stopped preparing for this."
Izuna's eyes narrowed. "Then come. Let's settle it again without anyone between us."
He lunged—a blur of speed, his blade slashing through the air with searing Flame chakra. Tobirama met the strike, materializing a blade of condensed water in a burst, clashing steel to steel. The ground cracked beneath their feet from the force of the blow.
Their dance of death began.
Izuna unleashed a flurry of attacks—chakra-enhanced kenjutsu, weaving in bursts of Fire Release and short-range genjutsu with every blink of his Sharingan. But Tobirama was no less ruthless, evading the illusions with his own battle-hardened senses and countering with Water Dragon Bullets and Flying Thunder God precision.
The two disappeared and reappeared in flashes—light and shadow, Senju and Uchiha.
Izuna grinned. "You always feared our power, Tobirama. Even in death, you still do."
Tobirama's voice was ice. "No. I understand it now… and that's why I'll end this."
With a flick of his hand, Tobirama vanished in a shimmer. Izuna spun, parried—but too late.
A paper tag glowed on Izuna's shoulder.
"Flying Thunder God Slash."
Tobirama reappeared mid-strike, slicing cleanly through Izuna's chest with a chakra-infused tanto. The explosion of water and space-time energy sent both flying.
Izuna landed hard, coughing—reforming due to Edo Tensei, but weakened. His Sharingan flickered.
"You… you're still the same cold bastard."
Tobirama stepped forward, bloodless and calm. "And you're still chasing a vengeance that died with your clan. Let it go, Izuna."
For a moment, Izuna just stared… and then laughed quietly, a bitter sound echoing through the broken battlefield.
"Perhaps I'll rest after this war," he rasped. "But not before I've given everything."
A sealing tag struck his back.
Izuna's eyes widened.
The Allied Sealing Division had crept close during their battle. Chakra chains erupted from the ground, binding his form in light.
"Damn you…"
Tobirama gave him a final nod. "Rest now, Izuna Uchiha."
The last of Izuna's reanimated form dissolved in a swirl of glowing kanji, fading into silence.
Tobirama turned back toward the battlefield. His time was borrowed. But as long as the war raged—he would keep fighting.
XXXXXXXX-Mist Divison
The mists curled unnaturally across the battlefield—thick, suffocating, and cold as death.Within it, shadows moved like ghosts.
Suigetsu narrowed his eyes as he stepped carefully across the slick stones of the ruined shoreline. The Hidden Mist was always treacherous, but this fog was different… familiar in a way that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
"I know this chakra..." he muttered.
A shape emerged, slow and silent, dragging a massive blade behind him. The unmistakable silhouette of the Kubikiribōchō, the Executioner's Blade.
Zabuza Momochi, the Demon of the Hidden Mist, stood tall—reanimated, his body cracked and marked with Edo Tensei's binding script, but his eyes still held the killer's calm he was known for in life.
"...So you're the brat who took my sword," Zabuza said, voice gravelly and dispassionate.
Suigetsu gave a lopsided grin, holding the blade loosely over his shoulder. "What can I say? I figured you wouldn't be needing it anymore."
Zabuza stepped forward, mist coiling tighter around them. "Then come and prove it belongs to you."
They clashed in a burst of steel and water.
Suigetsu's body liquefied mid-strike, his water-like flesh flowing around Zabuza's slash and retaliating with a crushing overhead swing. Zabuza caught the blade with his own, strength grinding steel against steel, pushing Suigetsu back with sheer brute force.
"You're too soft," Zabuza said coldly. "That blade isn't for someone who smiles."
Suigetsu laughed. "Maybe, but it sure cuts nice!"
He surged forward again, arms stretching with Hozuki Clan fluidity, twisting in the air and delivering a wide, sweeping strike—only to be met by a thick veil of mist.
"Hidden Mist Jutsu."
Darkness swallowed everything. Suigetsu's senses sharpened, but Zabuza had already vanished.
A whisper of wind.Then—CLANG! A blade narrowly missed his neck.
Suigetsu spun and lashed out, the Kubikiribōchō cleaving empty mist. A shallow cut bloomed across his side—Zabuza had drawn blood.
"You can't beat me with tricks I grew up watching," Suigetsu called out.
"Then die knowing you still weren't good enough," came the reply.
Zabuza came again—silent, precise. This time Suigetsu met him head-on, his body shifting to dodge through the attack and reforming behind Zabuza, driving the Executioner's Blade into his back.
Zabuza staggered—but didn't fall.
"Edo Tensei," Suigetsu muttered, irritated. "Right."
Before Zabuza could retaliate, chakra chains surged from the edge of the battlefield—the Allied Sealing Division. They had been waiting for Suigetsu's opening.
Golden seals latched onto Zabuza's body, freezing him mid-motion.
Suigetsu stepped back, panting slightly. "Looks like that's game."
Zabuza looked back at him—just once. His eyes softened, faintly, in recognition.
"Handle that blade properly," he said, as his form began to glow with the markings of sealing jutsu."Or it'll handle you."
Suigetsu watched as Zabuza faded from the battlefield once again—this time, hopefully, for good.
He rested the Executioner's Blade across his shoulders.
"…Guess I'm not just a fanboy after all, huh?"
XXXXXXXX
The skies cracked with thunder, but there was no rain—only the roar of distant clashes and the scent of ozone clinging to the battlefield.
Amid the chaos of the warfront, one section had grown quiet.
Too quiet.
A lake, unnaturally still, reflected the storm clouds overhead. Mist slithered along its surface, thickening—until it parted with a ripple. A tall figure emerged from the water, skin pale-gray, eyes sharp with predatory coldness.
Kisame Hoshigaki. Reanimated, unblinking, and once again bonded with Samehada.
Across from him stood a man in green, arms folded, expression grim yet burning with unshakable resolve.
Might Guy.
"Show me your Spirit and Youth as We begin our Battle!" Guy asked, already shifting into a fighting stance.
Kisame gave a sharp, humorless grin. "Tsk… still dressed like a comic book hero. I missed battling strong opponents though."
Guy narrowed his eyes. "I wont be holding back."
"No. I'd rather you didn't," Kisame replied. "This war deserves a proper offering of carnage."
With that, the lake exploded. A wall of water erupted behind Kisame as he surged forward, riding atop it like a tidal god. Samehada howled in his hands, eager for chakra.
Guy vanished—a blur of green lightning—his speed already cracking the ground beneath him.
The first collision shook the trees.
Guy's foot slammed into Kisame's shoulder, but Samehada caught the blow, hungrily gnawing at Guy's chakra. Kisame retaliated, swinging the massive blade like a club. Guy ducked low, sweeping Kisame's legs and flipping backwards to gain distance.
"Sixth Gate – Gate of View… OPEN!"Green chakra surged violently around Guy, steam lifting from his skin.
Kisame's grin widened. "Beautiful."
They clashed again—fists against scales, taijutsu vs raw power. Water dragons erupted from Kisame's hand-seals, but Guy tore through them with blinding speed, a blazing human bullet cutting through jutsu like paper.
Kisame leapt into the air, forming a massive dome of water above him. "Water Style: Great Shark Bullet Jutsu!"
The shark descended—massive, chakra-draining, aimed to consume Guy whole.
"Seventh Gate – Gate of Wonder… OPEN!"Guy's skin flushed red, the aura around him now a raging storm.
"Hirudora!"With a roar, Guy punched the air—and a tiger-shaped pressure blast exploded forward, tearing straight through Kisame's shark. The impact hit Kisame head-on, shattering the water dome and sending his body skidding across the lake's surface, vapor rising in plumes.
The battlefield was silent again.
Kisame's body slowly reformed from Edo Tensei's regenerative power, coughing steam.
"…So that's it again huh, Was a good fight" he said, almost admiringly.
Guy walked forward, panting, steam rolling off his skin. "You were one of the toughest I've faced."
Chains suddenly erupted from the water's edge—the Sealing Division, waiting for their chance.
Kisame chuckled as they latched onto him, beginning to pull his form into the sealing barrier.
"Well then," he muttered, as the light consumed him, "I'm glad it was you."
Guy stood silently, watching as the chakra faded into the wind.
"…Farewell, Kisame."
Another enemy down.
Another reminder of how high the stakes had become.
XXXXXXXXXXX-Sand division
The battlefield had grown eerily quiet around them, the sounds of war distant, muffled by the rising tension between the two figures.
Kankuro stood at the center of a desolate clearing, his eyes narrowed with focus. His hands gripped the puppet strings that connected him to his creations. The wind tugged at his cloak, but he paid it no mind. His mind was elsewhere—centered on the challenge ahead.
Sasori, the famed puppet master of the Akatsuki, stood across from him, his reanimated form still as unnerving as ever. He was surrounded by his marionettes—dead bodies twisted into grotesque, lifeless puppets—and his own personal one, Hiruko, standing tall at his side.
Kankuro's lips tightened into a grim smile.
"You're nothing more than a puppet now," Kankuro called out, his voice steady. "I've been waiting for this."
Sasori's pale red eyes flickered with recognition, and a humorless chuckle echoed from within Hiruko's shell.
"Kankuro of the Sand, I remember you," Sasori said, his voice cold and metallic, coming from within the confines of his puppet. "I've seen your progress. But do not mistake your ambition for power. You cannot win this fight with your simple toys."
Kankuro's fingers twitched, and the first of his puppets—Karasu, his own masterpiece—moved forward. The black-clad puppet was a menacing figure, with multiple hidden weapons designed to strike from anywhere.
"Simple toys?" Kankuro muttered. "Let's see if you still feel that way when the real fight begins."
With a snap of his fingers, Karasu rushed forward, extending sharp blades from its arms in a flurry of strikes.
Sasori's eyes narrowed behind Hiruko's glass eyes. He made a simple hand seal, and Hiruko responded immediately, spinning to deflect Karasu's attacks with flailing arms and extending poisonous needles from its back. Sasori moved his hands with precision, directing the marionette as though it were an extension of his own body.
But Kankuro wasn't done yet. He sent out two more puppets, Sandaime and Kuroari, both of them flanking Sasori from opposite sides. The array of hidden weapons and traps on the three of them formed a nearly inescapable web.
Sasori tilted his head. "Impressive, but predictable."
In a flash, Hiruko's mouth opened wide, revealing a massive crossbow mechanism. Sasori pulled a string, and a giant arrow shot forward toward Kankuro with deadly intent.
Kankuro was ready. Karasu intercepted, launching a barrage of poisoned needles at the oncoming arrow, shattering it mid-flight. He then sent the puppet into an aerial flip to dodge the sharp retaliatory blades that Sasori shot from his puppet's chest.
"You're not the only one who can use tricks," Kankuro said, his face now more focused. The fight wasn't just about brute force. It was a battle of minds, and Kankuro knew that Sasori was just as strategic.
He pulled another string, and Kuroari unfolded like an ominous trap. It was a puppet designed for capture, its massive black mouth aimed at Hiruko, attempting to snap shut on it. Sasori's expression remained calm, but Kankuro could see the slight twitch in his eyes. He was already calculating.
Just as Hiruko was about to be consumed, Sasori's body moved in a fluid arc. The mouth of Hiruko opened, releasing a dozen poison-filled explosive kunai into the air, each one aimed to land at different points around the battlefield.
Kankuro cursed under his breath, sending Karasu into a wide spin to block the oncoming barrage with its deflective shields. The kunai exploded upon impact, creating a burst of smoke and shrapnel. Kankuro moved with his puppets in unison, dodging and evading with remarkable fluidity.
"You've grown strong, Kankuro," Sasori said, his voice as calm as ever. "But not strong enough."
With an almost imperceptible motion, Sasori activated the true form of his weapon—the Sasori of the Red Sand himself, his lifeless human body emerging from inside Hiruko.
Kankuro's eyes widened in recognition. "You've been using yourself as a puppet all this time…"
Sasori's cold expression never faltered. "The perfect puppet is one that has no soul."
Suddenly, his human form dropped to the ground, four metal arms extending from his back, each one holding a sharp iron scythe, ready to cleave through anything in its path. Sasori's own body was now a weapon—a puppet with the finest skills of a master craftsman.
Kankuro pulled on his strings again, and his Karasu unleashed a violent barrage of poisoned gas aimed directly at Sasori's position.
Sasori didn't flinch. He simply spun on his heels, the scythes cutting through the gas as though it were paper, and his human puppet form advanced toward Kankuro with lethal precision.
Kankuro responded by drawing the strongest of his creations, the massive puppet "Sabaku Kyuu", a giant constructed with hidden iron and sand mechanisms that were built for this very type of fight.
The two puppet masters collided once again, their creations crashing against each other with devastating force. Sabaku Kyuu's massive limbs slammed against Sasori's body, but Sasori was relentless—his scythes cutting through the sand and iron of Kankuro's puppets, piece by piece.
Kankuro's mind raced as he pulled his strings taut, controlling the battlefield with everything he had. His fingers burned with chakra, but he had no intention of losing. Not this time.
"I won't let you take another life," Kankuro muttered, as his puppet Karasu took a powerful leap into the air, preparing for one final attack.
Sasori looked up, sensing the coming move, but it was already too late.
With a sharp, desperate pull, Kankuro directed Karasu's hidden blades, driving them into Sasori's human body—the very heart of his puppet form. It was a strike aimed at the core of his being, the very thing that had given Sasori his monstrous power.
As Sasori's body shattered, the reanimated form exploded into a cloud of dust and sand, his defeated body crumbling away.
Kankuro stood, breathing heavily, his hands shaking as he reeled in his final puppet strings.
The battlefield fell quiet, save for the distant sounds of war.
Kankuro allowed himself one brief moment of relief. He had won this fight. But there were still many more ahead.
And the war was far from over.
XXXXXXXX
The battlefield was burning. Not from fire, but from heat—waves of it shimmering across the plains as soldiers clashed in the distance. Amid the chaos, a scorching silence settled over one stretch of cracked earth. There, two kunoichi stood opposed: Temari, commander of the Allied Forces' Wind Division, and Pakura, the once-revered hero of Sunagakure… now reanimated and turned against her own village.
Temari narrowed her eyes. "Pakura of the Scorch Style… I never imagined I'd meet you like this."
The reanimated kunoichi's green eyes glowed dimly, her expression unreadable beneath the influence of Edo Tensei. "I never imagined I'd be used as a weapon by the very people who let me die in disgrace."
Temari's grip tightened on her war fan. "We're not those people. And I'm not going to let you hurt anyone else."
Pakura raised one hand, three orbs of Scorch Release rotating slowly around her. The air distorted immediately, the ground blackening beneath her feet. "Then you'd better come with everything you have, Wind Scythe of the Fifth Kazekage."
Temari opened her fan in one fluid motion. "With pleasure."
Pakura attacked first, her heat orbs streaking forward like miniature suns, humming with lethal intensity. Temari leapt to the side, sweeping her fan horizontally.
"Wind Release: Cyclone Cutter!"
A slicing arc of wind erupted forward, intercepting one of the orbs and sending it spinning off course. The other two split wide, curving around Temari as Pakura manipulated them from a distance.
The heat was unbearable. Temari could feel it drying out her lungs.
She slammed her fan into the ground. "Wind Release: Dust Storm Breaker!"
A surge of wind burst from her location, kicking up a blinding veil of sand and debris. The heat clashed with the rushing gale, creating pockets of intense pressure and steam. Pakura's vision blurred for just a moment—enough time for Temari to move.
Suddenly, Temari was behind her, fan raised. "I don't enjoy hitting legends."
"Then don't hold back."
Pakura spun around, and the final orb detonated between them.
Boom!
The explosion launched both women backward, though Pakura barely staggered—her reanimated body quickly reforming. Temari rolled to her feet, bruised, her clothes scorched at the edges, but her focus sharp.
"You won't keep rising forever," she said. "My wind doesn't burn… it cuts through lies, through illusions. Through you."
She opened her fan fully—three stars gleaming. "Wind Release: Summoning—Great Sickled Weasel Jutsu!"
A massive blast of cutting wind tore through the battlefield, slicing apart scorched earth and ripping through heat. Pakura countered with a final burst of Scorch chakra, but this time, Temari's wind overwhelmed it.
The orbs shattered.
Pakura fell to one knee, her body reforming slower now, chakra starting to fade.
Members of the Sealing Division arrived from the ridge, chakra chains already forming in their hands.
Temari stepped forward, voice steady. "You were a hero. You should have been honored. Let me end this properly."
Pakura looked up at her with a ghost of a smile. "You… carry the wind of change. I hope you keep your village from repeating its mistakes."
Then, without resistance, she allowed the sealing tags to latch onto her body. Her form glowed, and she slowly dissolved into light—peaceful, this time.
Temari lowered her fan, heart heavy but resolute.
The past had been painful… but the future was worth protecting.
And she would make sure of it.
XXXXXXXX
The clouds above rumbled like distant drums, a prelude to the chaos about to unfold. On the eastern edge of the battlefield—where the earth had been scorched and twisted by war—Kabuto stood atop a broken cliff in the undead form of Mu, fingers weaving through precise, deadly hand signs.
"Kuchiyose: Edo Tensei!" he hissed.
From the blood-drenched earth below, a coffin erupted—its wooden panels cracked open with an ominous creak. The wind howled as a tall figure stepped out, draped in a torn red armor, long black hair fluttering like a banner of death. His expression was calm, regal… and terrifying.
"Uchiha Madara," Kabuto whispered, a twisted pride gleaming in his eyes.
But before the reanimated legend could fully take in the world around him—
"You're not getting a chance to breathe."
A burst of golden chakra struck the ground nearby with explosive force—Naruto's shadow clone, cloaked in the Nine-Tails' chakra, stepped forward, blue eyes locked on Madara.
"Figures it'd be you," Naruto said. "Too bad you're late to the party."
A swirl of sand formed beside him, rising into a perfect sand clone of Gaara, eyes calm and cold.
And behind them, the very earth shook—not from Madara's power, but from the presence of a figure walking slowly across the broken landscape. Reanimated Hashirama Senju, the First Hokage, strode forward with the weight of history behind him, his brow furrowed.
Madara blinked slowly as his eyes landed on Hashirama. "...You."
Hashirama's face was unreadable. "I was hoping we wouldn't meet like this again."
Kabuto's grin widened. "It's beautiful, isn't it? The two gods of the shinobi world, reunited on the battlefield."
But Naruto wasn't smiling. "You're not going to use this war as your playground."
Gaara's clone added, "This battlefield belongs to the living."
Madara stepped down from the coffin, surveying the three before him. "Interesting. A Jinchūriki… a Kazekage's puppet of sand… and my eternal rival reborn."
He tilted his head slightly, amused. "Let's see if this era has what it takes to fight a god."
Hashirama stepped forward beside Naruto and Gaara, his voice steady. "Then consider this a warning, Madara… We're not the same as before. And we won't let you take another step forward."
XXXXXXX-Gaara POV
I stood at the edge of the battlefield, my heartbeat calm despite the storm raging around me. Dust and chakra flared in the distance—lives clashing, falling, resisting.
But this… this part of the war was mine to handle before the fight with Madara started.
I raised my left hand to my face, fingers brushing around my left eye. The Kamui Sharingan pulsed to life, its tomoe spinning with a force far beyond its origin. I channeled my chakra into it, and space began to distort around me—spiraling in on itself.
In an instant, I was gone from the world.
And pulled into another.
The Kamui Dimension.
A realm of distorted space, fragmented platforms drifting in nothingness. It felt like standing in the eye of a storm—silent, weightless, isolated from time. Here, there were no allies. No enemies. Just the void… and the confrontation I had chosen.
I didn't wait long.
Reality folded again, a ripple tearing through the air ahead. He emerged.
Obito.
His White mask still covered most of his face. But now I could feel it—both of his Mangekyō Sharingan were active. Each radiated a different sensation—space, collapse, distortion. A nightmare in symmetry.
"So," Obito's voice cut through the stillness like a blade, "you've learned how to use Kamui...That left eye doesn't belong to you."
"It does now," I answered coolly. "And I brought it here for a reason."
Obito tilted his head, curious. "You chose to face me alone. Here, in my domain. That's bold, Gaara."
"Not bold," I corrected. "Necessary. I've seen enough of you."
He took a step forward. "And what exactly do you plan to accomplish here? You can't stop me."
I slid into a stance, sand spiraling around my arms as the Sharingan in my palm opened—just beneath the bandage seal. "Then I'll make sure you're too broken to continue."
Obito's chakra surged. The void trembled.
He raised his hand slowly, eyes glowing behind the mask. "You'll regret this."
"No," I murmured, the sand hardening into jagged spears behind me, the gravity beginning to warp at my call. "I'll finish you."
(End of Chapter)