Chapter 296 – Dance: The Kitagawa Gen Version
"Kitagawa Gen has begun to move?"
Nagato's expression sharpened the instant White Zetsu delivered the news.
He had been quietly debating when to join the battle — whether to act now or reinforce another front.
After all, in his eyes, he was the Sage of Six Paths' living vessel,
and thus, only the Kage were worthy opponents.
Ordinary shinobi? They were merely dust to be brushed aside.
"So… my true opponent has finally appeared," he murmured, his Rinnegan gleaming with divine light.
White Zetsu tilted his head.
"You seem confident. But don't underestimate him — Gen isn't someone normal shinobi can compare to."
Nagato's lips curved into a faint, grim smile.
"That's precisely why I need him. Only by facing someone like him can I draw out my full power."
There was no deception in his tone.
Whatever Nagato was, he was not a coward — and not ungrateful.
If not for Zetsu's help, his body would never have recovered.
"Where is he now?"
"Between the Land of Hot Water and the Land of Iron," Zetsu replied. "Need a lift?"
"If it'll get me there faster — then yes."
Nagato didn't hesitate. He could feel it —
his power pulsing, yearning, hungry.
He had waited too long for this.
---
Elsewhere, Kimimaro was making his own preparations.
Standing before another White Zetsu clone, his voice was cold and clear.
"Gen… a fitting opponent.
I still remember that damned Earth Release technique — the one that nearly destroyed me."
His mind replayed the memory vividly:
the crushing weight of stone, the searing agony, the suffocating helplessness.
That single battle had worsened his illness and robbed him of his chance to become Orochimaru's vessel.
Now, fate had brought him another chance —
and he intended to seize it.
"Jūgo, stay with the main force," Kimimaro said firmly. "I've got unfinished business."
Before Jūgo could protest, White Zetsu's tendrils wrapped around him.
Together, they sank into the earth and vanished.
"Tch. What a pain," Suigetsu muttered.
"He really thinks he can handle that monster alone?"
Jūgo sighed heavily, his massive frame trembling.
"Kitagawa Gen… even if Kimimaro's strong, this is suicide."
But the words were hollow. There was nothing they could do but hope.
---
Meanwhile, Uchiha Obito listened to the report with wide eyes.
"Already?" he muttered. "He's moving this soon?"
The war had barely begun, yet Gen had already taken the field.
Obito clenched his fist.
"No… he must have another reason. Wait—"
Then it clicked.
"His evolution… he needs constant battle to progress.
That's why he never stops."
From the very first time Obito met him nine years ago,
Gen had been in perpetual combat —
fighting, surviving, evolving.
Even the Akatsuki had become nothing more than his stepping stones.
"He's close to completing it — that 'evolution.' That's why he's so desperate."
Obito exhaled slowly, his Sharingan gleaming.
"Fine. If that's how you want to play it… then I'll use your storm to sharpen my own blade."
He turned to Zetsu.
"What about Madara? Has he moved?"
"Almost," Zetsu said with a lazy grin. "Now that Gen's in play, they'll head to Konoha.
Something there they want badly."
"Then tell them to hurry. I want results."
Even as he said it, Obito couldn't shake the realization —
Gen had become something more than an enemy.
He was a force of nature, a catalyst that drew every player into motion.
---
On the other side of the battlefield, the Allied Shinobi Forces were already reacting.
Shikamaru's team, alongside Jiraiya and Tsunade, had just received the signal.
"Gen? What are you doing here?" Shikamaru blinked.
"Aren't you supposed to be at headquarters?"
"I left Third Hokage to cover for me," Gen replied with a grin.
"He's retiring soon anyway — might as well get some practice."
"You're unbelievable," Jiraiya sighed. "Don't tell me you came just because you were bored."
"Maybe," Gen admitted, smiling faintly. "But mainly because the ones on this side… are old friends."
He gazed toward the horizon, his tone light but his eyes cold.
"Some of them were your grandfather's friends too, Tsunade-san.
I think they'll be happy to see me."
"So you are here to stir trouble," she muttered.
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
Their banter drew faint smiles — except from Shikamaru's team,
who could only exchange helpless looks.
And then—
"Kitagawa Gen!"
The roar split the sky like thunder.
Four massive figures descended in unison,
their impact shaking the earth.
Third and Fourth Raikage.
Kinkaku and Ginkaku.
Surrounded by White Zetsu swarming from every direction.
"Oh?" Gen chuckled, crossing his arms.
"Only you four? I'm insulted."
His eyes fell on the Fourth Raikage, who scowled darkly —
haunted by old memories.
That battle — the broken arm, the humiliating defeat,
and the later failure of the Chūnin Exams that cost him everything.
"I heard you attacked Kumogakure after I died," the Raikage growled.
"That's right. I did," Gen said calmly.
"And if you'd chosen differently back then, none of it would've happened.
You made your own mess."
"You—!"
Lightning sparked, but the Third Raikage raised a hand.
"Foolish boy," he said coldly. "A man who acts so ruthlessly is bound to face retribution."
Gen's smirk faded into something colder.
"Retribution? From you?"
He took a step forward, eyes narrowing.
"You two spent decades pillaging smaller villages — stealing their bloodlines, their techniques, their people.
You sent spies to Konoha to kidnap Hyūga children,
then called it diplomacy.
And now you talk about justice?"
His words struck harder than any jutsu.
Even the air grew still.
"You reap what you sow, Raikage."
Shikamaru winced.
"Uh, Gen? Maybe don't taunt the resurrected Raikage surrounded by an army?"
But it was already too late.
The White Zetsu swarmed, howling.
"Oh no…" Ino whispered. "He's surrounded!"
"Don't worry," Gen said softly.
"They're just warm-up partners."
He raised his head, and the battlefield fell silent.
Then—
Boom.
A single step forward, and his chakra exploded outward like a storm.
The air shimmered.
Natural energy gathered — coiling around him like living flame.
His eyes turned pure white.
In an instant, Jiraiya, Tsunade, and the others were whisked away by an invisible force —
teleported to safety behind the main army.
"Gen!" Ino's voice cracked with worry.
But it was too late.
Gen stood alone.
Facing tens of thousands of White Zetsu,
and four legendary monsters of Kumogakure.
"Let's see," he whispered,
"what this world looks like at the peak of tactical evolution."
---
The White Zetsu charged like an avalanche of snow —
a living tide of white flesh and teeth.
Gen moved.
He didn't dodge. He danced.
Each step flowed into the next,
his short blade flickering like a phantom.
Every swing carved a life away.
Every motion was deliberate — efficient — beautiful.
In mere seconds, hundreds fell.
A spin.
A flick.
A kick that shattered bones.
A fist that sent ten bodies flying like rag dolls.
The battlefield became his stage,
the dead his audience,
the carnage his choreography.
"Th-this speed…" Tsunade whispered from afar.
"Can you even see what he's doing?"
"Not a damn thing," Jiraiya muttered. "He's not fighting — he's weaving death."
The air rang with the cries of dying Zetsu,
each one silenced in a single, elegant stroke.
In less than a minute, thousands lay broken at his feet.
"So this is… the Fifth Hokage's power," a soldier murmured.
No one answered.
They were too awed — too afraid.
Even the resurrected Raikage stared in disbelief.
"No wonder he leveled Kumogakure," Ginkaku muttered.
"He's… a monster."
The Third Raikage scowled, lightning arcing from his fists.
"If we let him continue, he'll destroy everything here."
"Agreed," his son growled. "We take him down — together!"
They turned to Kinkaku and Ginkaku.
"I hate your guts," the Third said flatly. "But right now, we fight as one."
The brothers smirked.
"Heh. Works for us. Let's see what the so-called Hokage can really do."
Far ahead, Gen stilled.
He could feel their combined killing intent gathering like thunderclouds.
He caught a lunging White Zetsu by the neck, twisted —
crack.
Then, raising the corpse like a shield, he whispered:
"All right then. Let's dance."
Almost instantly—
A streak of lightning tore through the air,
lancing straight toward Gen like divine judgment.
BOOM!
The bolt slammed into the corpse of a fallen White Zetsu,
detonating in a muffled explosion that sent ash swirling across the battlefield.
Gen tilted backward, twisting in midair.
He landed lightly, dust curling around his feet — the ambush deflected as effortlessly as a passing breeze.
Whish! Whish! Whish!
Four shadows flashed before him, cutting through the smoke.
The Raikage Duo.
Kinkaku. Ginkaku.
They stood in a line — towering, radiating pressure, the crackle of lightning crawling over their bodies.
"Gen,"
the Fourth Raikage growled, his voice a low rumble of thunder.
Beside him, the Third Raikage's body blazed with pure lightning.
"I'll admit, boy, you've got potential," he said.
"But this battlefield has no room for your arrogance.
You've crossed blades with us before — now we'll settle the score."
"Hmph," Ginkaku sneered, his eyes glinting like molten metal.
"Let's see how you compare to Senju Tobirama, shall we?"
Their relic weapons shimmered — the Seven Treasures of the Sage — radiating lethal chakra.
Gen only sighed.
His gaze swept slowly across the four resurrected warriors before him.
"You know," he said softly,
"I've always wondered what gives you people this strange confidence.
Every time I meet someone like you, you all think — if you just try a little harder, maybe you'll win."
He tilted his head, faint amusement in his tone.
"Tell me… what makes you think that?"
For a heartbeat, silence fell.
Even as he mocked them, Gen understood — this was the heart of the shinobi world.
That unyielding delusion — the belief that effort could overcome fate.
Without it, no one would ever stand against a god.
But against him, it was almost insulting.
"Forget it," he muttered. "Talking to the dead is pointless.
Let's end this quickly and send you back where you belong."
"You're awfully confident," the Third Raikage said, his tone darkening.
The Fourth Raikage cracked his knuckles, lightning surging.
"I'm in perfect form now. Let's see if you can kill me again."
"Oh?"
Gen blinked — then smirked, a faint chuckle escaping his lips.
"Still so proud, even in death? How cute."
Then his chakra erupted.
A tidal wave of energy burst from his body,
and the world ignited.
"And who said I can't kill the dead?"
Flames exploded outward like an erupting volcano.
They flooded the sky, staining the clouds crimson — a blazing sea that consumed everything.
"What—?!"
The Allied Shinobi Forces froze, eyes wide.
They had seen powerful Fire Release before — but this wasn't a jutsu.
This was a natural disaster wearing human shape.
"Move!"
The Third Raikage's instincts screamed a warning.
Within the inferno, he sensed something deeper — a hidden power that even he feared.
The others reacted instantly, vanishing in blurs of lightning and shadow.
BOOM!
The inferno erupted,
engulfing half the battlefield.
White Zetsu soldiers screamed — a thousand voices cut short as the fire devoured them whole.
In moments, their bodies became ash carried on the heat waves.
"What kind of Fire Release is this…?"
The Fourth Raikage darted clear, sweat beading down his temple despite his reanimated body.
Even for him — this heat was suffocating.
He barely had time to breathe before another surge of power roared overhead.
"Above! He's coming again!"
They looked up —
and saw dragons made of fire.
Each one roared as it descended, twisting through the sky like divine serpents.
Gen floated at their center — calm, unbothered — as his creations fell upon the land.
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
The explosions shook heaven and earth.
The sky bled red; the ground split open.
Even the soil melted beneath the dragons' fury.
Then — a flicker of movement.
Gen vanished.
"You—!"
The Fourth Raikage barely caught the shift before Gen reappeared — right before his eyes.
"You didn't forget, did you?"
The words brushed his ear like a whisper.
"Even after death, my Flying Thunder God seals remain."
"Damn—!"
The Raikage swung reflexively, his arm crackling with power —
but the blade was already there.
Slash!
The edge traced a clean arc through his arm.
No blood — only light.
"You said you were restored," Gen murmured,
his tone almost playful.
"But this… looks better."
The Raikage froze, horror spreading through his features.
His left arm — gone again.
And this time, he could feel its absence.
Not just severed — erased.
Thud!
A single strike to the gut sent him folding over,
the impact cracking the air itself.
Before he could recover, Gen's hand closed around his throat.
With effortless strength, he lifted the massive man off the ground — one-handed.
Lightning sputtered across the Raikage's body.
He struggled, snarled, kicked — but it was meaningless.
"So tell me," Gen said quietly,
his voice low and cold as iron.
"You think you can dance with me?"
His fingers tightened.
And with that —
The battlefield fell silent.