Just as Naruto's massive fist closed the final meter toward Senju Hashirama, something unexpected happened.
Light erupted from both reanimated Hokage.
Purple radiance burst from Hashirama's body, coating him in an aura that pulsed with visible power. Beside him, Tobirama began glowing with blue light, cooler and sharper, like ice reflecting moonlight.
The transformation was instantaneous. One moment they stood dull and lifeless, the next they blazed with chakra that made the air shimmer and distort.
But their expressions remained unchanged. Still blank. Still empty. Still dull as glass beads in a child's toy.
Because they weren't truly alive. They were corpses, reanimated through Orochimaru's Impure World Reincarnation technique. Dead flesh puppeted by preserved body parts and forbidden jutsu. Their faces couldn't shift with emotion, couldn't respond with the natural flexibility of living people. They were masks of meat stretched over animated bones.
Yet despite their lifeless expressions, despite the horrific reality of what they were, the brothers moved with purpose.
Facing Naruto's charge, facing that enormous fist that could shatter boulders, both Hashirama and Tobirama extended their own fists forward.
They were going to meet him head-on. Fist against fist. Pure physical confrontation with no technique, no clever tactics, just raw power against raw power.
They want to clash directly with me? Naruto's eyes widened slightly with surprise and genuine pleasure. Really?
In all his years of training, through countless sparring matches and actual battles, Naruto had never found anyone tougher than himself. Not in pure physical durability. Not in raw bodily strength. Throughout the entire ninja world, he genuinely believed his body was the toughest thing that existed.
No one had ever challenged him to a pure strength contest and won. Most people were smart enough not to try.
But these reanimated legends were attempting exactly that.
Well, if they want to test themselves... Naruto thought with dark satisfaction. I don't mind obliging. But I'll hold back a bit. Don't want to destroy them immediately before getting information from Orochimaru.
Mid-flight, Naruto adjusted his technique. He pulled back the full force behind his punch, restraining perhaps thirty percent of his maximum output. Still devastating, still enough to pulverize stone, but not quite enough to atomize a person instantly.
His fist descended like a meteor.
CLANG! CLANG!
The sound wasn't the wet crunch of flesh meeting flesh. It was metallic, resonant, like enormous bells being struck simultaneously. The collision rang out across the battlefield, echoing off distant trees.
The Hokage brothers, who'd been standing on broken chunks of laboratory rubble, simply disappeared.
Not in the sense of being destroyed. In the sense of being driven downward with such force that they created their own craters. The ground beneath them detonated, stone and earth exploding outward in shockwaves. Dust billowed up in massive clouds, obscuring everything.
When the debris cloud thinned slightly, Naruto could see his own fists—one slightly lower than the other, both stopped at different heights, both pressed against significant resistance.
As the dust settled fully, the aftermath became clear.
Senju Hashirama stood in his crater, driven perhaps two meters into the earth. His entire body trembled from the impact, muscles straining against forces that would have liquefied a normal person. The purple light coating him flickered uncertainly, waxing and waning like a candle in the wind.
But he stood. Somehow, impossibly, he remained upright.
Senju Tobirama, on the other hand, had collapsed to one knee. The blue light around him sputtered and sparked, barely maintaining cohesion. His posture was defensive, protective, one hand braced against the crater floor to keep from falling completely prone.
The difference in their conditions told a clear story: the First Hokage possessed far superior physical strength and chakra reserves compared to his younger brother. Even in death, even as a reanimated corpse with only a fraction of his living power, Hashirama's legendary durability shone through.
Of course, that made sense. Tobirama had never been known as a pure physical fighter. His specialty was speed, tactics, water-style ninjutsu, and forbidden technique development. Raw toughness wasn't his fighting style.
Perhaps recognizing that direct confrontation with Naruto was futile, perhaps responding to some residual combat instinct preserved from their living years, both Hokage suddenly moved.
They didn't try to push back against Naruto's fists. Instead, they twisted, using leverage and technique to redirect the pressure. Their bodies slipped away like water, escaping from beneath Naruto's hands and retreating to safe distance.
Smart, Naruto noted with approval. They retained significant combat experience from when they were alive. They understand how to adapt, how to recognize a losing position and disengage.
The brothers had separated now, positioning themselves on opposite sides of Naruto. Classic flanking formation. One to distract, one to attack from the blind spot.
Naruto felt something wrap around his feet. He glanced down reflexively—
But by the time his eyes could process what was happening, Senju Tobirama had already completed his hand seals.
The speed was incredible. Fingers blurred through the sequence almost faster than sight could follow. Years, decades, perhaps a century of practice condensed into muscle memory so deep that even death couldn't erase it.
"Water Style: Water Dragon Jutsu!"
Water materialized from nothing—or more accurately, from moisture in the air, from underground sources, from the ambient humidity that filled this forest region. The liquid coalesced behind Tobirama's position, forming into a massive serpentine shape.
The water dragon rose up, easily twenty meters long, its body thick as a tree trunk. Details appeared in the construct: scales that caught the light, eyes that gleamed with reflected chakra, teeth formed from compressed water sharp enough to cut steel.
Then it lunged, jaws opening wide, rushing toward Naruto with the force of a tidal wave.
"Hah!" Naruto let out a sharp exhalation, more of acknowledgment than concern.
His foot stomped down hard. The ground shattered beneath the impact, sending chunks of rubble flying in all directions like shrapnel. The force of the stomp provided lift, launching Naruto's massive body into the air with surprising grace.
As he rose, the water dragon passed beneath him, close enough that spray from its passage dampened his skin. Then Naruto twisted mid-air, drawing back his right fist, and punched forward.
Not at a physical target. At the air itself.
His fist cut through space with such speed and power that it created a shockwave. The air compressed ahead of his knuckles, visible as a rippling distortion that spread outward in concentric circles. The ripples expanded rapidly, centered on his fist, carrying tremendous force.
When the shockwave struck the water dragon, the effect was dramatic.
The construct simply collapsed. Not exploded violently, not dispersed in a spray—it fell apart silently, almost gently. The water lost all cohesion, separating into millions of tiny droplets that hung suspended for just an instant before gravity reasserted itself.
Rain fell from a clear sky. A brief, localized drizzle created by Naruto's pure physical power disrupting the chakra holding the technique together.
Pretty, Sasuke thought from his observation position, watching droplets catch the sunlight. But ultimately ineffective.
Before Naruto could land from his aerial position, the ground beneath him erupted again.
Wooden roots, thick as a man's torso and covered in bark rough enough to scrape skin raw, burst upward. They moved with organic intelligence, bending and twisting like living serpents. Dozens of them, perhaps hundreds, all converging on Naruto's position to entangle and restrain.
Wood Style, Naruto recognized immediately. Hashirama's signature technique. The ability that made him famous, that let him suppress even tailed beasts.
Under normal circumstances, Wood Style was incredibly powerful. The technique combined earth and water nature transformations, creating constructs that were both physically durable and chakra-reactive. The wood could drain an opponent's chakra, could bind even the strongest ninja, could form defensive barriers that withstood S-rank jutsu.
But these circumstances weren't normal.
Looking at all these elaborate ninjutsu—the water dragons, the wood binding, the coordinated tactics—Naruto felt something unexpected stir in his chest.
Sadness.
Not fear. Not concern. Just... disappointment.
None of this affects me at all, he realized with melancholy certainty. I can't find an opponent who can fight me with full strength. Someone who can push me to my limits. Someone who can make me struggle.
Even these legendary Hokage, reanimated though they were, didn't measure up. If they were truly alive, possessing their full power, their complete strength, their living chakra reserves... then maybe. Maybe they could have given Naruto a real fight.
If they were alive, Naruto thought wistfully, I wouldn't mind trying to make friends with them properly. Let's see if they could endure a sincere friendly discussion for more than fifteen minutes.
So far, only Might Guy-sensei and Rock Lee had managed to maintain friendly sparring with Naruto for a full fifteen minutes. Everyone else tapped out much sooner, either through injury, exhaustion, or psychological breakdown.
Well, no point dwelling on impossibilities.
"Let it all end here!" Naruto announced, his voice booming across the battlefield.
The wooden roots continued surging toward him, close enough now that he could have reached out and touched them. Close enough to see the grain in the bark, the way the wood fibers twisted and interlocked.
Naruto ignored them completely.
In one instant, he occupied the space above the battlefield, surrounded by grasping roots.
In the next instant, he vanished.
Not with a puff of smoke like substitution jutsu. Not with the yellow flash of Flying Thunder God. Just... disappeared. One moment present, the next moment absent, as if reality had simply skipped a frame.
Instantaneous Movement. Heavenly Steps Level 2. Speed that matched space-time ninjutsu through pure physical mastery.
Naruto reappeared directly behind Senju Tobirama.
The Second Hokage's mouth was open, jaw distending as water gathered in his throat. He'd been about to spit—probably another Water Style technique, possibly a pressurized jet or a bullet barrage.
He never got the chance.
"Rest in peace, Second Hokage-sama," Naruto said quietly, his voice gentler now. Almost respectful.
Then his fist moved.
Not held back this time. Not restrained for information-gathering purposes. Full strength. Complete power. Everything his transformed state could muster.
The impact was catastrophic.
Senju Tobirama exploded into debris. Not flesh and blood—he was already dead, already composed of reanimated tissue that wasn't quite real. Instead, he shattered into fragments of ash and chakra and whatever substance Orochimaru's technique used to bind corpses to the world.
The pieces scattered, flying outward in a perfect sphere of destruction. Then they simply faded, dissolving into nothing, disappearing from the space without sound or trace.
Gone. Completely and utterly gone. Not sealed, not suppressed, not contained for later release. Destroyed so thoroughly that the reanimation technique had no anchor to rebuild from.
One punch. One Hokage obliterated.
Before the debris had fully faded, Naruto moved again.
Another Instantaneous Movement. Another impossible transition from one position to another with zero delay. He materialized behind Senju Hashirama this time, fist already drawn back.
The First Hokage began to turn, perhaps sensing the displacement of air, perhaps responding to some combat instinct. His body started to twist, hands rising to defend—
Too slow.
"Forgive me, First Hokage-sama," Naruto murmured.
His fist shot forward with absolute power.
Now, at this point in his development, Naruto's full-strength punch approached nearly a million pounds of force. The number was almost meaningless—force at that magnitude didn't behave like normal impacts. Space itself rippled around his fist, reality warping under the pressure, creating visible distortions in the air.
Against flesh, against bone, against even reanimated corpse material held together by forbidden jutsu? There was no contest.
Senju Hashirama detonated.
Purple light flared brilliantly for just an instant, the First Hokage's chakra making one final defiant surge. Then it was overwhelmed, scattered, torn apart by forces no human body—living or dead—could withstand.
Fragments. Ash. Light. Then nothing.
The God of Shinobi, reduced to less than dust.
Orochimaru watched this happen from his position thirty meters away. Watched as the two legendary Hokage he'd painstakingly reanimated, the trump cards he'd prepared specifically for dealing with powerful opponents, were casually demolished without even slowing Naruto down.
No remains. No bodies to reanimate again. Just... gone.
I knew wrestling with Naruto through pure power was useless, Orochimaru thought, his face carefully neutral even as panic rose in his throat. All my life, I've understood that. So why did I even try?
The answer was simple: because he'd had no better options. When cornered by overwhelming force, you threw whatever you had and hoped something worked.
It hadn't worked.
Time for Plan B, Orochimaru decided immediately. The beauty trap. Seduction. Use the female body's natural advantages. Get close, obtain DNA samples, escape to plan the next approach.
He turned to flee—
And slammed face-first into what felt like a stone pillar.
Except pillars didn't breathe. Didn't generate body heat. Didn't smell like sweat and grass and something indefinably alive.
Orochimaru tilted his head back, following the obstacle upward, upward, until he found himself staring at Naruto's enormous face.
Those blue eyes, each one larger than Orochimaru's entire head, gazed down at him with predatory focus. They were less than five centimeters away from his own face. Close enough that Naruto's breath—hot as forge air, smelling faintly of meat and Nine-Tails' cooking—rolled over Orochimaru's skin in humid waves.
"Orochimaru," Naruto rumbled, his voice so deep and resonant at this proximity that it vibrated Orochimaru's bones. "Where are you trying to go?"
As soon as Naruto opened his mouth fully, Orochimaru felt his ears go instantly warm.
Then hot.
Then wet.
He broke my eardrums, Orochimaru realized with numb certainty. Just from the sound pressure of speaking. My eardrums literally ruptured.
Blood trickled from Orochimaru's ears, warm and tickling as it traced down his neck.
"Naruto-kun," Orochimaru said quickly, forcing his voice to remain calm and reasonable despite the pain and panic. "If you have something to say, we can talk properly. Whatever you want to discuss, I'm completely willing to cooperate."
The words came out smooth, placating, almost desperate. Orochimaru immediately employed a classic stalling tactic—agree to everything, promise cooperation, buy time to think of actual solutions.
As long as I don't die, everything else can be managed, he told himself firmly. Even revealing Naruto's training method might be acceptable. Life is hope. Survival is possibility. If I die here, I get nothing.
But if Naruto doesn't give me any hope of survival, if he makes death the only option...
Orochimaru's thoughts turned dark.
Then I'll burn everything. Take him down with me if possible. At minimum, I'll retain my dignity as a strong person. The dignity of a ninja who refuses humiliation.
His philosophy crystallized into a simple principle: Forbearance is acceptable. Dignity can bend. But a ninja must never accept complete degradation.
Seeing Orochimaru's cooperative expression, seeing how the snake Sannin wasn't struggling or attempting escape, Naruto felt slightly conflicted.
The saying goes: you don't hit someone who's smiling, Naruto reflected. Orochimaru is being so reasonable right now. It seems wrong to just beat him up anyway.
But information was needed. Pressure was required. Simple conversation wouldn't extract the truth from someone as slippery as Orochimaru.
An idea occurred to Naruto.
He glanced toward Sasuke, who stood at the edge of the battle area, observing everything with his new Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan.
"Sasuke, come here!" Naruto called out.
Sasuke immediately moved, crossing the debris-strewn ground with smooth strides. And in his hands, held with casual grip, was the cockroach cage.
The insects inside continued their oblivious movement, crawling over each other, completely unaware of the psychological warfare they'd become part of.
Seeing Sasuke approaching with that cage, seeing those disgusting insects getting closer and closer, Orochimaru's face went pale.
"Sasuke-kun," Orochimaru said weakly, his voice taking on a pleading quality, "you're welcome to come closer. Truly. But please, could you set that item down over there? Somewhere far away? It's not necessary for our conversation."
The request was polite, almost pathetic.
Sasuke ignored it completely. His attention focused solely on Naruto, waiting for instructions. Orochimaru's opinion didn't matter—only Naruto's decision counted.
Naruto looked down at Orochimaru's pitiful, helpless, vulnerable expression. The legendary Sannin, reduced to begging about cockroaches.
After a moment's consideration, Naruto nodded.
Receiving permission, Sasuke walked to the far edge of the cleared area and set the cage down gently. Perhaps fifty meters away. Far enough that Orochimaru couldn't see the individual insects anymore, only the general shape of the cage.
Orochimaru exhaled shakily, relief flooding through him. At least those things are distant. I can think more clearly without them right in my face.
After depositing the cage, Sasuke walked back toward Naruto and Orochimaru. His hands were free now, moving with purpose, prepared for whatever Naruto needed next.
"Sasuke, do it," Naruto said, jerking his chin toward Orochimaru in a meaningful gesture.
"Do what?" Orochimaru's eyes darted between Naruto's playful expression and Sasuke's eager anticipation. Panic crept back into his voice. "What exactly does Sasuke-kun intend to do?"
His mind raced through possibilities, none of them pleasant.
"Don't move," Naruto warned, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Orochimaru froze immediately. His body went rigid, every muscle locking in place. But internally, he remained on high alert, chakra coiled and ready.
If Sasuke does anything life-threatening, Orochimaru resolved, I'll have no choice. I'll burn my chakra, trigger every self-destruct seal I've prepared, and die with whatever dignity I can salvage. Better to die on my feet than live completely degraded.
The principle was absolute: a strong person's dignity must be preserved, even in death.
Seeing Orochimaru standing obediently, not attempting escape or resistance, Sasuke went to work.
His fingers moved with precise speed, tapping points across Orochimaru's body. Shoulder, chest, back, arms, legs, neck, torso—anywhere accessible, anywhere useful. Each tap was accompanied by a minute pulse of chakra, invisible to the naked eye but perceptible to anyone with sensing abilities.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
The rhythm was rapid, methodical, comprehensive. Sasuke worked systematically, ensuring complete coverage.
One hundred times he tapped. More than one hundred, actually, covering Orochimaru's entire body with invisible markers. Each location received a Flying Thunder God seal, marking it as a potential destination point.
By the time Sasuke finished, his chakra reserves were nearly depleted. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his breathing slightly labored. Placing that many seals in rapid succession was exhausting even for someone with his stamina.
But the job was done. Every major body part, every significant position on Orochimaru's form, now bore a mark.
"Alright, Orochimaru," Naruto said cheerfully once Sasuke stepped back, his smile wide and satisfied. "Just to prevent you from escaping again, from slipping away before we finish our conversation, I had Sasuke place one hundred Flying Thunder God marks on your body."
He paused, letting that sink in.
"Now we can chat with complete peace of mind. No worries about you pulling any disappearing acts. No concerns about body-swapping or substitution techniques. Wherever you go, whatever you do, Sasuke can find you instantly."
Naruto's grin widened further.
"Isn't that wonderful? We can have such a comfortable, honest conversation now."
Orochimaru stood frozen, his expression completely blank.
"..."
Not a single word emerged. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. But no sound came out.
One hundred marks. One hundred anchor points. One hundred destinations for instant pursuit.
He could swap bodies—the marks would remain. He could flee to another country—instant teleportation would follow. He could hide underground, transform into someone else, disguise himself completely... and it wouldn't matter.
Sasuke could reach him anytime. Anywhere. Forever.
Can I even be considered human anymore? Orochimaru thought numbly. Or am I just a tagged animal now? A specimen marked for permanent observation?
The indignity of it was almost worse than death would have been.