A sheer mountain cliff pierced the clouds, its uppermost edge bathed in thin, lonely sunlight. At the very summit stood a palace that didn’t belong there. Too grand. Too deliberate. Like sothing forced into the landscape by stubborn will alone.
In front of the palace, Hatake Kakashi stood motionless.
His eyes were dull, unfocused. His body upright, obedient. Every trace of independent thought had been strangled by a control seal. Behind him stood three shinobi, silent shadows wearing the sa cold loyalty.
From within the palace, footsteps echoed.
A barefoot man erged, pale skin brushing against the stone as if he no longer felt the chill. Hiruko walked toward Kakashi with slow, savoring steps, his lips curling into a grin that had been rehearsed for years.
"Kakashi," Hiruko said softly, almost kindly. "Co. This way. Your kekkei genkai will be the fifth."
His laughter rang out across the cliff.
"At last," he declared, arms spread wide, "I’ll beco the perfect shinobi. An immortal one."
The plan had been flawless. The Fire Country would pressure Konoha. The Hokage would be forced to choose stability over sentint. Hiruko would take control of Kakashi at the right mont, and Konoha would convince itself this sacrifice was acceptable.
After all, Kakashi was only a jonin.
Even his legendary father had been driven to death when the village turned its back on him. Kakashi didn’t even carry that kind of reputation.
And sure enough, Konoha had handed him over.
Maybe they suspected a trap. Maybe they had contingencies. Hiruko didn’t care. Once the five kekkei genkai were fused, nothing would matter anymore.
He had heard the rumors about the current Hokage. Fujimoto Tōma. Powerful. Unreasonable. Fast.
Which was why Hiruko had prepared layers of barriers. They might not hold forever, but they only needed to last until the ritual was complete.
Once that happened, even regret would arrive too late.
"Heh," Hiruko sneered at Kakashi. "If you’re going to bla soone, bla your incompetent Hokage."
"Tch. Still thinking a barrier like this can block my Flying Thunder God?"
The voice ca from right beside him.
Hiruko froze.
Two figures stood where there had been empty air a mont ago.
Fujimoto Tōma. And Uzumaki Naruto.
Both looked relaxed. Almost bored.
Tōma glanced around the mountaintop, eyes sharp, curious. "And soone calling incompetent," he added mildly. "That’s new. If the Akatsuki heard that, they’d laugh themselves sick."
Hiruko’s face drained of color. "Impossible. You couldn’t have broken through the barrier this fast!"
"That’s what people who don’t do their howork usually say," Tōma replied calmly. "If you’d ever compared notes with the Akatsuki or bothered asking Orochimaru, you’d know this much. Barriers at your level don’t stop my jutsu."
Of course, Hiruko had done neither. The Akatsuki would never share their secrets. And Orochimaru and Hiruko hadn’t exactly parted on friendly terms.
Tōma didn’t believe himself invincible. Pain had proven that perception and sensing could be restricted under extre conditions. But barriers that could truly block him required absurd power. Bloodlines on the level of the Rinnegan.
And if you needed sothing that rare to activate a barrier, the barrier itself had already lost its purpose.
Without ceremony, Tōma placed a hand on Kakashi’s shoulder.
Kakashi tried to resist. His body tensed, instincts flaring. It didn’t matter. Tōma’s grip was absolute.
Hiruko took a step forward, then stopped. He didn’t dare rush in.
A seal flared on Kakashi’s forehead. The puppet mark surfaced, trembled, then dissolved like smoke under sunlight.
Kakashi inhaled sharply.
His eyes cleared.
"Hokage-sama," he said, then turned to Naruto. "Naruto."
A small smile appeared on his face. Just seeing Tōma standing there brought an unexpected sense of relief.
"Hehe!" Naruto grinned, giving a thumbs-up. "Sensei! We’re here to help you get payback!"
Hiruko watched the scene unfold, teeth clenched. He knew the truth now.
He couldn’t beat Fujimoto Tōma.
But surrender was impossible.
This plan had taken over a decade. Years of hiding, experinting, killing. He had been so close. So painfully close.
"I underestimated you," Hiruko growled. "Even after all that preparation."
"Probably," Tōma replied easily. "Kakashi. Naruto. The three in the back are yours. I’ll keep Hiruko company."
"Understood," Kakashi said.
"Got it!" Naruto cracked his knuckles.
"Company?" Hiruko snapped.
The word ignited sothing ugly inside him.
Even without the final fusion, he carried four kekkei genkai. He was no weakling. To be treated like entertainnt was unbearable.
His thoughts spiraled backward.
He rembered being young. Talented, but never enough. Always a step behind the three prodigies of his generation. Jiraiya. Tsunade. Orochimaru.
His body had been flawed from birth. His ceiling visible no matter how hard he trained.
When the Third Hokage chose them as students, Hiruko had understood. No effort of his would ever bridge that gap.
So he searched for another path.
The Chira Technique was born from desperation. At first, it only strengthened the body. It wasn’t enough.
Then ca the revelation.
After the Third Shinobi War, when Uchiha Obito died and his Sharingan was passed on to Kakashi, Hiruko saw it clearly.
Bloodlines.
That was the difference.
If he could take them. If he could gather them. Then he could stand where the legends stood.
The Chira Technique evolved. No longer fusion alone, but theft. Extraction. Assimilation.
How many lives had been lost to perfect it? Hiruko had stopped counting long ago.
When the Third Hokage discovered his experints, the Sannin were sent after him. Hiruko escaped by fusing with stored organisms, his body pushed beyond human limits.
After that, he vanished.
Years passed. Bloodlines were hunted across nations. Taken from fresh corpses before decay set in. Four perfect specins.
One more.
That had been the plan.
Now it was slipping away.
Rage twisted his face as he stared at Tōma.
"Then let see," Hiruko said hoarsely, chakra boiling over. "Let see the strength of the Sixth Hokage."
The mountain wind howled.
And the battle was about to begin.
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