Tsunade couldn't quite tell what it was exactly.
Her own training in senjutsu wasn't anything impressive.
"Katsuyu-sama, please keep an eye on Kiyohara's side. If he's injured, treat him immediately," Tsunade asked.
"Understood, Tsunade-sama," Katsuyu nodded.
All of Katsuyu's split bodies could communicate with one another.
At the same time, on the battlefield, a middle-aged ninja wearing a deputy-style headband watched Kiyohara cutting down Rain shinobi nonstop.
He couldn't help shouting, "Stop him!"
"All of you—hit him together! Blanket him with ninjutsu!"
Five jōnin formed seals at once, movements crisp and synchronized.
"Water Style: Water Formation Wall!"
"Lightning Style: Electromagnetic Murder!"
"Earth Style: Earth-Style Wall!"
A combined technique.
Water Formation Wall raised a barrier, Ground Stream's lightning ran through the water, and Earth Wall erupted from the ground to restrict movement—an extremely classic encirclement kill.
Kiyohara stomped, using repulsion to accelerate with Magnet Release.
Only an afterimage was left where he'd stood.
The combined jutsu smashed into that afterimage, blasting a crater into the ground.
And Kiyohara was already up in the air.
Suspended high above, he looked down at his enemies. Rain struck his face and slid down his cheeks.
Then he dropped.
The instant his feet hit the ground, a shockwave exploded outward from him.
Mud, gravel, rainwater—everything was thrown into the air.
The five jōnin staggered, their formation shattered, their combined jutsu collapsing.
Kiyohara's silhouette flickered through the dust.
A heartbeat later, all five jōnin were down—each with a distinct fist print stamped into the center of their chest armor.
Kanzō finally understood how serious this was.
This young man wasn't someone ordinary jōnin could handle.
He grit his teeth, pulled a ninja tool from his coat, and started to throw—
Kiyohara was already in front of him.
"Too slow," Kiyohara said calmly.
Kanzō didn't even see the motion—only felt a sharp pain in his wrist as the tool flew from his hand.
Then a crushing impact slammed into his abdomen.
His body folded like a shrimp, eyes bulging, saliva spilling uncontrollably from the corner of his mouth.
Kiyohara seized his hair, yanked his face close, and locked eyes with him.
"Tell me—what did Hanzo promise Danzō?"
Kiyohara's voice was quiet, but to Kanzō it hit like thunder.
"I… I don't know…"
"Say it again. What did Hanzo give Danzō?"
Kiyohara hit him again.
This time, Kiyohara's eyes opened fully—three-tomoe Sharingan spinning slowly.
Kanzō trembled all over. He could see those eyes turning.
"M-mines… mines…" he forced out.
"Three chakra-metal mines in northern Rain… mining rights… in exchange for Root support… to wipe out Akatsuki…"
"Just as I thought."
Kiyohara released him. Kanzō collapsed into the mud, gasping for air.
"Thanks," Kiyohara said.
Then he punched straight through Kanzō's throat.
Kanzō slackened in the muck. Rain mixed with blood poured from the ruin of his neck.
His eyes were wide, reflecting Kiyohara's young, indifferent face.
"You… how… how did you train like this…?"
His voice rasped like a broken bellows. He couldn't understand it.
How could a shinobi who looked sixteen or seventeen possess strength like this?
It was like he'd been cultivating since the womb.
Kiyohara flicked the blood off his hand and watched Kanzō's gaze fade.
Inside, he shook his head.
The answer was simple.
The shinobi world is a big stage—if you don't have a cheat, don't step onto it.
Kiyohara stood, the rain washing the blood from his hands until only a pale red stain remained.
Not far away, Konan re-formed into human shape, paper sheets swirling around her.
She'd seen Kiyohara kill Hanzo's aide Kanzō, and she didn't know what to say.
Everything happened too fast—from Kanzō's sudden move to instant suppression. Kiyohara's fighting was clean and efficient.
"Konan. Get ready—Hanzo's next."
Kiyohara didn't explain. He only lifted his gaze toward the center of the battlefield.
The Rain shinobi's assault wavered briefly after Kanzō died, but they quickly regrouped.
And the real threat was still standing atop that enormous salamander, watching coldly.
At the edge of the battlefield, Kurenai had just dropped three Rain chūnin with genjutsu.
Her breathing was a little ragged—continuous genjutsu drained both chakra and mental stamina.
She looked toward the center. That gigantic salamander made her chest tighten.
Hanzo of the Salamander—his name had shaken nations in the Second Shinobi World War. Even if he wasn't as strong as back then, his shadow still loomed.
"Kurenai—are you okay?"
Kiyohara's voice suddenly sounded beside her.
She turned. Kiyohara had already moved to her side.
"I… I'm worried," Kurenai admitted honestly.
"That's Hanzo… a legend. Can we really win?"
Kiyohara looked at Hanzo in the distance, rain dripping from his dark bangs.
"Even if we can't, it's fine," Kiyohara said.
"If things go bad, I'll get you out. A few people isn't a burden for me."
He made it clear: if needed, he could retreat instantly—grab Kurenai and the others and run.
Still, Kiyohara felt they could wait a bit longer—for Nagato to return.
Nagato could summon the Demonic Statue of the Outer Path… and that thing was absurd.
The statue was essentially the husk of the Ten-Tails. Even after the tailed-beast chakra had been extracted, it still contained terrifying vitality and could use multiple techniques.
Kurenai froze for a moment, then understood—Kiyohara's flight really could evacuate multiple people.
Kiyohara pulled out a soldier pill, told her to open her mouth, and fed it to her.
Then he turned and walked toward the center of the battlefield.
Hanzo had seen what Kiyohara did.
Kiyohara dared to kill his aide—Hanzo's killing intent surged.
But with Tsunade oddly retreating to the rear, Hanzo stayed cautious and didn't strike immediately.
"Tsunade—since you're here, why hide? One of the Sannin, playing turtle?"
The mockery was blatant.
Rain shinobi's morale spiked. Even Konoha's Sannin wouldn't face Hanzō-sama head-on!
Kiyohara stopped.
He lifted his head toward Hanzo standing atop the salamander.
A gas mask covered most of Hanzo's face; only his eyes showed.
Eyes worn by years—yet still sharp as a hawk's.
"Hanzo," Kiyohara called, voice not loud but clearly carrying.
"My teacher isn't well and can't fight. If you have something to say, say it to me."
Hanzo's gaze shifted to Kiyohara, measuring him from head to toe.
"So you're Kiyohara."
"The Uchiha prodigy who's made a name for himself in this war."
"'Prodigy' is too much," Kiyohara replied evenly. "I'm just an ordinary Konoha shinobi."
"Ordinary?" Hanzo laughed, the sound muffled by the mask.
"You killed my aide with ease. That's not ordinary."
He paused, then continued, "Tsunade picked up a fine disciple. But there are things you shouldn't meddle in."
Before Kiyohara could answer, Hanzo snapped his right hand forward without warning.
Three shuriken coated in dark violet poison shot toward Kiyohara.
Kiyohara drew his blade. The silver arc cut a clean half-circle through the rain.
Clang—clang—clang!
The three poisoned shuriken were knocked aside, embedding into nearby trees and rocks. Poison mixed with rainwater and ran in diluted streams.
Hanzo's brow lifted slightly beneath the mask.
That sneak attack had been thrown with seventy percent force, timed perfectly at the pivot of conversation.
Yet this kid not only reacted—he deflected all three effortlessly.
"So Hanzō-sama only knows cheap ambushes like that," Kiyohara said, flicking poison off his blade.
In the original story, Hanzo really was the kind of old snake who played dirty—luring Akatsuki in with promises, planting a trap under their feet (a fire-style explosive formation). That's how Nagato's legs were burned into ruin.
Maybe because he knew how nasty he was, Hanzo even slept with bodyguards watching him 24/7.
"Ambush?" Hanzo's voice held no emotion.
"On a battlefield, there's only life and death. No rules. You're still too young."
At that moment, Yahiko stepped out from Akatsuki's line.
He looked at Hanzo like a shattered idol.
"Hanzō-sama… didn't you say you'd recognize us just a few days ago? Why bring an army to wipe us out today?"
It was the question everyone in Akatsuki wanted answered.
Many of them had once viewed Hanzo as a hero—as the Land of Rain's hope.
Even as Hanzo grew more authoritarian and Rain stayed miserable, a small part of them still clung to the fantasy that the old hero might still carry some spark of his ideals.
Hanzo fell silent briefly.
Rain tapped against the salamander's rough hide.
Finally, he spoke.
"Akatsuki's ideals are beautiful. Peace through dialogue. No involvement in great-nation wars. Protecting the weak… yes, beautiful."
Then his tone turned cold.
"But precisely because it's so beautiful—it must not exist. Your existence itself challenges the current order. The Land of Rain doesn't need idealists. It needs pragmatists."
Yahiko's fists tightened.
"So… your promises were all lies?"
"Promises?" Hanzo said flatly.
"They were a test. And you failed. Now I'll give you two choices."
He raised two fingers.
"First: Akatsuki disbands on the spot. Everyone leaves. I won't pursue."
"Second—"
He pointed at Yahiko.
"You, as leader, die alone. Your life, in exchange for everyone else's."
Akatsuki members stared in shock.
They looked at Yahiko, at Hanzo, then at each other—
and right then, Nagato rushed in from behind.
The moment he entered the battlefield, he moved to Yahiko's side.
Nagato's Rinnegan glimmered faintly under his red hair in the shadows.
He remembered walking a hundred meters away earlier and glancing back.
From lip-reading, he knew what "Uchiha Madara" had muttered:
"Pain, loss, hatred—only by experiencing these can humans truly understand peace."
Was that person… right?
No.
Nagato forced the thought away.
He didn't trust that masked stranger—just like he no longer trusted Hanzo, the hero he'd once admired.
"Hanzō-sama…"
"Do you know why I founded Akatsuki?" Yahiko pressed on.
Hanzo didn't answer.
"Because when I was a kid, I saw you," Yahiko continued, staring Hanzo down.
"On the edge of the battlefield. Alone, facing the shinobi of three great nations—protecting Rain's border. Back then, you were my idol."
"I wanted to be someone like you—strong enough to protect this country, but merciful enough to give everyone a chance at peace."
He drew a breath, rain and tears mixing on his face.
"But now I understand… you're not that Hanzo anymore. You've been corroded by power, ruled by fear, turned into the very thing you once hated."
Hanzo's expression was hidden behind the mask, but his eyes flickered.
"Naïve," he spat.
"You think a few ideals can change the world? Ideals without power are just a child's babbling."
"Then let me show you our power!"
Nagato's voice snapped through the rain.
He couldn't hold it in anymore.
Yahiko's pain. His comrades' despair. The ugliness of the "hero" standing before them—
Nagato's red hair rose without wind. His Rinnegan fully revealed itself, the concentric ripples seeming to tighten.
"Nagato!" Yahiko tried to stop him, but it was too late.
Nagato formed seals. Chakra roared inside him.
"Summoning Jutsu: Demonic Statue of the Outer Path!"
Boom!
The earth shuddered.
Cracks spiderwebbed outward from Nagato, and a monster appeared before everyone—its skin rough as bark.
A tall, gaunt, hunched body. Ten pillar-like protrusions on its back.
Its eyes were wrapped in cloth; only its mouth and jaw were visible.
The Demonic Statue of the Outer Path.
"What… what is that?!" A Rain shinobi stumbled back in terror.
Even Hanzo's pupils shrank at the sight.
He could feel it—this wasn't a normal summon.
"Nagato!" Yahiko rushed to his side, only to see Nagato's face turning pale by the second, his body visibly thinning.
Summoning the Demonic Statue cost the user their life force.
"I… I'm fine," Nagato gritted out, hands still locked in seals.
"Yahiko… this time… listen to me."
The Demonic Statue moved.
It raised a withered arm and swung toward the Rain shinobi line.
The motion looked slow—yet was terrifyingly fast.
"Scatter!" Hanzo barked.
Too late.
Three Rain jōnin tried to raise earth defenses; the walls shattered like paper under that palm.
The hand slammed into the ground, throwing up a mud wave several meters high. The three jōnin were mashed into pulp before they could even scream.
"Monster—this is a monster!"
Fear spread through the Rain shinobi ranks.
Konan stared at Nagato's hollowing profile, paper sheets swirling around her.
She wanted to say something, but Shizune grabbed her arm.
"Now's not the time," Shizune said coolly, already holding poisoned senbon between her fingers.
"Kurenai—we handle the grunts."
Kurenai nodded and formed seals.
"Genjutsu: Haze Clone!"
Her figure blurred in the rain, as if multiple Kurenais appeared at once, scrambling the enemy's vision.
Akatsuki members finally snapped out of their shock. The monster was killing their enemies.
As terrifying as it looked, it was on their side.
"Fight with Nagato!"
"Protect our home!"
Their morale reignited.
Kiyohara watched it all, rapidly assessing the situation.
The Demonic Statue was powerful—but Nagato wouldn't be able to sustain it for long.
Now.
Kiyohara closed his eyes, sinking his awareness into his mind.
Inside the urn, the spirit of Toad Kiyohara opened its horizontal pupils.
"Borrowing my power?" it croaked.
"Yes," Kiyohara answered mentally.
"Partial possession. Put me into Mount Myōboku's Sage Mode—on top of the curse mark. I'm stacking another layer."
"Can your body handle it?"
"That's why you're possessing me—to stabilize it."
Toad Kiyohara let out a toad-like chuckle. "Interesting. Fine. But remember—you're human, not a toad. I don't know what form my power will take in you."
The instant Kiyohara opened his eyes again, his body began to change.
First his skin—paling into a dark brown tone.
Then his hair—black strands grew rapidly, lengthening to his shoulders.
Most striking of all: behind him, a tail formed from condensed chakra—thick and powerful, its surface layered with scales.
Curse Mark Transformation: Stage Two.
But it still wasn't over.
With Toad Kiyohara's possession, orange eye-shadow markings appeared at the corners of Kiyohara's eyes—like painted senjutsu patterns.
Natural energy began to gather around him.
"What is that…?"
Konan stared in shock at Kiyohara's new, strange form.
What kind of technique was this?
Some secret art? A bloodline limit?
She remembered a six-armed spider clan in the Land of Rice Fields—
So what was this?
Konan wasn't the only one stunned. Kurenai and Shizune were too.
It was the first time they'd ever seen Kiyohara like this.
"Senjutsu…?" Hanzo's voice rang out. He fixed on Kiyohara, and for the first time his masked expression shifted.
He'd fought Jiraiya. He knew Jiraiya used senjutsu.
And what Kiyohara gave off now felt similar.
Kiyohara didn't answer.
He focused on the power surging inside him—an experience completely different from the curse mark.
The curse mark was passive: you got power without truly understanding it.
Sage Mode was active control.
If you had to put it into words, it was a far higher level of command over senjutsu chakra.
And Kiyohara could feel his physical abilities rise again.
He took one step.
A ring of compressed air burst from the ground beneath his foot.
~~~
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