A month had passed since Makima had bent Orochimaru to her will, and Kumogakure trembled under her grip. The streets were silent, the shinobi marched in step, their eyes vacant, and civilians whispered her name like a curse.
Meanwhile, she had secluded herself in an isolated training ground, a dusty crater surrounded by jagged cliffs, to tame her new arm—an abomination designed by Orochimaru, a masterpiece of flesh and chakra that made her more monster than woman.
Her right arm, bandaged to the elbow, pulsed with an unhealthy energy. Orochimaru had grafted Hashirama Senju's cells, the First Hokage, granting her Mokuton and the ability to use the five chakra natures—Katon, Suiton, Raiton, Doton, Fūton. But that wasn't all. Like Danzō's arm, it was embedded with Sharingans, their red pupils glowing beneath the bandages.
The graft was a feat only Orochimaru, or perhaps Kabuto, could have accomplished, but it came with a price: control was a nightmare, and Makima, accustomed to her brute telekinesis, struggled like a novice.
Sitting on a rock, she stared at her arm, the bandages stained with sweat and blood. Orochimaru, a few meters away, watched, his twisted smile never leaving his face. "Focus, Makima," he hissed, his voice like a serpent's. "This arm is a powerful weapon. You could raze nations, but you need to learn to use it. Chakra, not your demonic bullshit."
Makima growled, her golden eyes flashing. "Shut your mouth, snake. I'm not one of your experiments drooling at your feet." Damn, this thing's giving me a headache, she thought, feeling the Sharingans pulse in her arm, as if they were trying to speak to her.
She formed a clumsy seal, attempting Suiton: Raging Wave. A torrent of water burst from the ground, but it was weak, barely splashing the rocks before collapsing into a puddle. "Shit!" she cursed, her arm trembling with the effort.
Orochimaru snickered, crossing his arms. "Pathetic. This arm holds the First Hokage's chakra, and you can barely muster a puddle. Focus your chakra, visualize the flow." He stepped closer, tapping a bandage. "The Sharingans help you see chakra, but the Mangekyō… it'll give you control over ninjutsu even I couldn't predict the final power of. Try again."
Makima clenched her teeth, her stump still sensitive under the graft. She reformed the seal, slower this time, trying to channel the chakra as he'd explained.
This time, a stronger wave surged, tearing up the ground and uprooting a tree with a CRASH! She gasped, her arm burning, the Sharingans glowing brighter. "Better, asshole?" she spat, wiping sweat from her forehead.
"Better, but still pathetic," Orochimaru replied, his tone mocking. "You want to survive the shinobi alliance? Because they're coming, Makima. Konoha, Suna, Kiri, Iwa—they'll descend on you like rabid dogs. You need mastery, not luck."
She glared at him, her left hand gripping her grafted arm. "You think I'm scared of them? I'll crush them, with or without your rotten arm." But he's right, damn it. I need to figure this out fast. She attempted Mokuton: Wooden Pillars. Roots burst from the ground, but they were twisted, fragile, collapsing into splinters. "Fuck!" she roared, slamming the ground, cracking the stone.
Orochimaru sighed, his smile widening. "You're not learning like this, huh? Fine. Let's do it differently." He formed seals, his fingers dancing with terrifying precision. Edo Tensei! Two coffins surged from the ground.
BOOM!
A deafening sound, the earth trembling. The lids fell, revealing Hashirama Senju, the First Hokage, and Tobirama Senju, the Second Hokage, their eyes black and empty, their bodies cracked like puppets. Orochimaru made hand seals, suppressing their will in an instant. "They're mine. And now, yours. Beat them, and you'll learn."
Makima snickered, stepping into a fighting stance, her bandaged arm pulsing. "Seriously? Two Hokages? I'll tear them apart." Finally, something to blow off steam, she thought, adrenaline surging.
Hashirama struck first, forming Mokuton: Strangling Forest. Massive roots burst forth, aiming to impale her. Makima dodged with a lightning-fast leap, but a branch slashed her thigh, blood spraying. "Damn it!" she growled, attempting Katon: Fireball. A pathetic flame spat from her arm, barely enough to singe a root.
Tobirama, silent, summoned Suiton: Water Dragon. A roaring water serpent lunged at her, its liquid fangs snapping. Makima raised her grafted arm, activating a Sharingan by instinct. The world slowed, the dragon's chakra becoming visible, and she unleashed a telekinetic blast, shattering the water into droplets.
"Not bad," she muttered, but Hashirama was already on her, a chakra-charged fist slamming down like a maul. She blocked with her grafted arm, a resonant CLANG as the Sharingans flared, absorbing some of the shock.
"Focus on Mokuton!" Orochimaru shouted, leaning against a rock, amused. "You've got Hashirama's cells, use them!" Makima growled, forming a clumsy seal. Mokuton: Wooden Barrier! A twisted palisade surged, blocking a strike from Tobirama, but it collapsed under a wave of water. "Shit, this sucks!" she cursed, rolling to avoid another root from Hashirama.
Tobirama launched Raiton: Lightning Blade, a crackling bolt aimed at her heart. Makima activated the Mangekyō Sharingan, her eye burning with pain as white flames canceled the attack.
She screamed, her arm trembling, the Mangekyō draining her chakra. "Damn, that hurts!" she growled, but she felt a connection—the arm was starting to obey.
Hashirama summoned Mokuton: Giant Buddha. A massive statue surged, its fists slamming down like meteors. Makima attempted Fūton: Hurricane, but her wind was weak, barely enough to push dust. She dodged a strike, then another, her body pushed to the limit. "Come on, you piece of shit arm, move!" she screamed, forming a seal. Mokuton: Piercing Spears! Wooden spikes burst forth, piercing the Buddha's arm, but not enough to stop it.
Tobirama pinned her, a Suiton: Shark Wave crashing down. Makima, desperate, activated all the Sharingans in her arm. A raw chakra explosion pulverized the wave, and she charged Hashirama, her grafted fist slamming into his chest.
He staggered, cracked, but reformed. She struck again, a clumsy Doton: Rock Fist shattering his shoulder. Tobirama attempted Hiraishin, but she anticipated with the Mangekyō, launching a warped Kamui-like shockwave that sucked his left arm into a parallel dimension.
Exhausted, Makima gasped, her grafted arm smoking, the Sharingans flickering like dying bulbs. Orochimaru snapped his fingers, dispelling the Edo Tensei. The Hokages collapsed into ashes. "Not bad," he said, mocking. "You've still got work to do, but you've got the idea."
Makima spat blood, her arm throbbing with pain.