After briefly sensing the Flying Thunder God Seal,
Toshiro's gaze shifted downward—to a massive snow-laden tree standing like a silent sentinel among the frozen landscape.
If his instincts were right, Obito was hiding beneath it.
"…How did he find me?"
Obito, cloaked in an Akatsuki robe, narrowed his eyes behind the mask. Suspicion crept into his voice, barely a whisper to himself.
He had only been observing the battle out of the corner of his eye—never fully revealing himself. That kind of indirect glance shouldn't have exposed his position.
And yet… he had been noticed.
Ironically, it was Toshiro's fault that Obito now wore this Akatsuki uniform at all.
Thanks to the chaos the so-called "butterfly" had stirred, the organization had lost two vital members. Obito had no choice but to step in and operate publicly—no longer just a shadow behind the curtain, but a formal player on the board.
"That one's becoming more dangerous by the day…"
And where there was Obito… Zetsu was never far behind.
Now that their cover had been blown, Zetsu made no effort to hide. He openly watched Toshiro, analyzing him, reading his presence like a hunter tracking a beast.
But what struck him most wasn't just Toshiro's power—it was how different it felt.
Had it really only been a few days since their last encounter?
Even in that short span, Toshiro's chakra had evolved again. It wasn't a subtle shift, but a noticeable surge. Zetsu felt it instantly.
Something was changing in him.
And fast.
"We should've brought the entire organization…"
Zetsu muttered under his breath, frustration creeping into his usually calm tone. Despite having assembled a handful of members for this mission, doubt was beginning to gnaw at him.
"Especially Orochimaru, Kakuzu… and that lunatic Hidan."
He exhaled sharply.
"Against Uchiha Toshiro, they might've made the difference."
From beside him, Obito's voice came low and steady, muffled beneath the mask but edged with realism.
"Nagato doesn't trust them."
And he wasn't wrong.
Orochimaru was a snake in every sense—brilliant, dangerous, and always scheming for his own ends. Kakuzu, the seasoned mercenary, only stayed in the organization because of Nagato's overwhelming power, not loyalty. And Hidan? Hidan was a fanatic—a madman obsessed with his so-called evil god, with no thought in his head beyond slaughter and sacrifice.
They were powerful, yes. But they weren't reliable.
Nagato had assembled them for their strength, not because he believed in them.
And now, faced with someone like Uchiha Toshiro, the cost of that choice was becoming clear.
To bring allies you couldn't trust into a battle like this…
To fight a man like Toshiro while also watching your back, wary of betrayal at any moment—
No sane leader would take that risk.
Still…
Zetsu's gaze rose to the sky, to the man above—calm, composed, radiating raw power.
His expression tightened.
"But still…"
There was something unsettling about Toshiro. Something familiar.
The longer Zetsu watched him, the more the feeling grew—like an echo from another life.
Was it really possible…?
Could his once-beloved brother have been reborn?
Even if Uchiha Toshiro had inherited Hashirama's cells… even if he wielded the Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan…
That alone shouldn't put him so far above the rest.
No—this power… this presence… It was something else entirely.
And that's what frightened Zetsu most.
But now, it seemed the situation had shifted—Toshiro wasn't just growing stronger; he was ascending to an entirely new level.
And that... was unsettling.
It hadn't been long since he merged with the Ten-Tails' chakra, yet the transformation of his chakra was already so profound that even Black Zetsu had begun to notice something was off.
Meanwhile, high above the earth—four to five hundred meters in the sky—a figure floated with focused intent. His gaze locked onto the approaching Yamawashi, now well within his range.
He raised a hand. Fingers curled into a tight fist.
"Universal Pull."
There was no hesitation in his voice—only complete and utter confidence.
He had deliberately taken to the sky, shortening the distance to ensure maximum effectiveness of his ability. From here, he would drag the Fifth Hokage out of the heavens like a god pulling down a star.
Killing Toshiro with a fall?
No. That was never the plan.
He wasn't naive enough to believe someone of Toshiro's level could be killed so easily.
"Toshiro!"
The hawk shrieked, feeling the immense gravitational pull take hold. It flapped its wings desperately, feathers slicing the air like blades.
A soft blue chakra shimmered across its wide wingspan, enhancing each wingbeat and summoning gust after gust of wind.
But it was futile.
The force pulling it downward was absolute. It began to plummet.
"Itachi, Yamato—take the one in the sky."
Toshiro narrowed his eyes, his calm expression faltering for just a second as Yamawashi's call reached his ears.
This was getting troublesome.
If he focused his attention on dealing with the figure below—Tendō Pain—then Deidara, hovering above, would seize the moment to strike.
"You've both seen the weakness in his technique," he said evenly, his voice like ice.
He knew they could exploit it.
While he could use Super Beast Imitation Drawing to transfer some lightning chakra and harass Deidara, it was far from a sustainable solution.
Lightning chakra was too volatile. His ink beasts couldn't carry much of it before being destroyed.
And Deidara—despite his flamboyant madness—wasn't a fool. After testing the waters with a clone, he'd become far more cautious.
The real Deidara never even approached Toshiro directly. That fact alone showed his tactical awareness.
"Understood!" ×2
Both Yamato and Itachi answered in unison.
Though… Yamato's expression was less than enthusiastic.
The look on his face said it all: This is going to be rough.
To fully master Wood Release, Yamato had deliberately avoided developing chakra attributes beyond Water and Earth.
As for Lightning Release… he hadn't touched it at all.
And he wasn't alone.
Even Itachi, standing beside him—the Uchiha prodigy groomed by Fugaku himself—was struggling.
It wasn't that he didn't know Lightning Release; he had some familiarity with it.
But it had never been his focus.
His strengths lay in Genjutsu and Fire Release.
Lightning jutsu? At best, he could use them—barely.
Still, in this moment, both of them knew:
It doesn't matter if we're ready. We have to act.
Meanwhile, Toshiro wasted no time.
As he felt gravity trying to pull him down, he responded not with panic—but with power.
He lifted the Kusanagi Sword high into the air, his chakra pulsing fiercely through his arm.
The blade, once gleaming with a soft silver sheen, now blazed with a radiant white light.
Then—something extraordinary happened.
Dozens—no, hundreds—of identical Kusanagi swords shimmered into existence, conjured from his chakra like ghostly reflections.
They encircled him in a massive, glowing ring, a barrier of blade and brilliance with Toshiro at its center.
He didn't hesitate.
"Go!"
With a sharp motion, he swung the original sword toward Tendō.
Instantly, the spectral blades responded like a synchronized swarm—
Shooting through the sky like a storm of silver lightning, each one honed in on the target with terrifying precision.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
As the countless swords tore through the sky, the air was filled with the sharp, piercing sound of blades slicing at breakneck speed.
It was like the furious buzz of a thousand enraged bees charging toward a single target—or the thunderous volley of a massive crossbow unleashing an endless stream of arrows.
"This is... troublesome," Tendō muttered, his voice calm but edged with tension, as he stood under Nagato's control.
He had taken Toshiro seriously from the start, using one of his most powerful techniques—"Universal Pull"—right out of the gate.
His plan was simple: drag Uchiha Toshiro down from the sky and pin him to the earth.
But Toshiro's response had struck directly at the core weakness of that technique.
These weren't ordinary projectiles.
The swords, launched by Toshiro's chakra and guided with precision, were now further propelled by gravity itself—hurtling downward with deadly speed.
And Tendō's own gravitational pull was only accelerating them further.
If even a single one landed, it wouldn't just injure—it would obliterate.
Not even Yahiko's reinforced body could withstand a barrage like this.
A slab of solid granite would be shredded under such force.
"Orochimaru..." he muttered with a scowl. "That snake's 'gift' is more of a curse. Handing a weapon like that to Uchiha Toshiro... he's more likely to get us all killed than help us."
Despite the danger, Tendō didn't flinch. His hands remained steady, his focus razor-sharp.
The attack was coming fast—but so was his resolve.
Staring at the shimmering distortion of air rippling from the tips of the incoming blades, Tendō narrowed his eyes.
"Shinra Tensei!" he roared.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
A sudden surge of repulsive force exploded outward from him.
In an instant, the volley of Kusanagi swords shattered into puffs of white smoke, vanishing midair like ghosts dispersed by wind.
"Incredible... the sharpness is unreal," Nagato muttered, even he couldn't help but be impressed.
These weren't ordinary swords—not by a long shot.
Had he relied on any typical defensive jutsu instead of the raw, invisible power of Shinra Tensei's force field, he doubted he could've withstood the barrage.
Their power wasn't just in numbers—it was in their nature.
These chakra-forged weapons weren't merely copied—they were modeled after the legendary Shuriken Shadow Clone Technique created by the Third Hokage.
If not for that lineage of design, shadow clones of weapons would barely scratch an enemy, much less penetrate serious defenses.
In the original annals of ninja lore, Orochimaru had wielded this technique to terrifying effect.
His Kusanagi sword wasn't just a blade—it was a monster: able to extend, multiply into thousands, and even pierce the hide of a tailed beast-enhanced Naruto.
Clearly, this wasn't just brute force.
It was only through Tendō's unique gravitational ability—this divine repulsion—that he managed to nullify such an overwhelming strike in a single move.
Anyone else would have been skewered.
SWISH!
Just as Nagato allowed himself the faintest breath of relief, a sharp whistling sliced through the air—cutting clean through the lingering smoke.
His eyes widened.
"No... it was a feint!"
As the sharp whistle of a blade slicing through the air rang out once more, Nagato immediately realized the truth.
The earlier swarm of Kusanagi swords had all been a distraction—mere cover for a single, deadly strike.
"Left side…!" he muttered, eyes narrowing.
Though caught off guard by Toshiro's cunning, Nagato didn't panic. Chakra surged through his arm, instantly materializing a black chakra rod in his hand.
"What—?"
He didn't hesitate. With practiced speed, Tendō swung the rod toward the source of the sound. But the moment he did, he felt something was wrong.
His strike had missed.
Completely.
That shouldn't have been possible. Even with his vision partially obscured by the lingering smoke, pinpointing an enemy by sound alone was a fundamental ninja skill—especially for someone of his caliber.
So why had his counter failed?
Eyes darting within their sockets, Tendō's violet Rinnegan swept toward the haze on his right.
From within that thick cloud of smoke, a blindingly white blade silently emerged—piercing the fog like a spear of light—rushing straight toward him.
"Wait… this sword—is it being controlled in midair?"
In the blink of an eye, Nagato understood.
The blade's trajectory had changed at the last moment—just before impact.
Manipulated with uncanny precision, it had veered unexpectedly, catching him off guard. The speed of the sword, influenced by Toshiro's chakra, enhanced gravity, and the momentum of his own technique, had pushed it close to—or perhaps even past—the speed of sound.
The sonic cue of its directional change had reached his ears at the same instant as the weapon itself.
That's why his reaction had come too late.
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