The smoke hadn't yet cleared from the last explosion when Kiba Inuzuka landed on all fours beside the ruins of the old Yamanaka greenhouse. His breathing was fast and shallow—but his eyes blazed with fury. Akamaru stood beside him, ears flattened, fur singed in places. The destruction was staggering. Buildings were reduced to cinders. Entire streets scorched and twisted by fire and wind pressure. And among the bodies...
...he smelled them. Dozens of shinobi. Recently fallen.
Some of them were missing their hearts.
"I know that scent. He's here," Kiba growled. "Kakuzu."
A shadow peeled away from the far wall. The figure was tall, stitched together in far too many places, his dull green eyes glowing beneath a torn forehead protector. Edo Tensei had brought him back—not weakened, but strengthened. Kiba could sense it: the same dark aura Asuma once described. A formidable opponent.
Kiba smiled. He welcomed the challenge.
"Another one with a dog. I hate dogs," Kakuzu said flatly. "Let's see if your heart's worth anything."
He raised both arms. Two black-threaded masks burst from his back—one shaped like a monstrous bull, the other like a hawk. In a single breath, the fire mask released a blazing inferno across the street, while the wind mask turned it into a swirling tunnel of death.
"Akamaru! Breath!"
Kiba and Akamaru vanished in opposite directions. With synchronized exhalations, they each activated their specialized breaths—Kiba igniting his Wind Breath, Akamaru his Fire Breath. Their chakra flowed uniquely but in perfect harmony as they dashed on all fours, weaving through debris and flame.
They emerged behind the fire mask and struck simultaneously—Kiba with a spiraling, clawed wind attack, Akamaru charging through the fire as if he were part of it. The mask exploded in a mass of black threads, its central heart cracking with a screech.
But Kiba and Akamaru weren't the only perfect team—Kakuzu was his own squad.
The Wind mask unleashed a pressurized jet that slammed into Akamaru sending him back to the street in flames, while black tendrils shot from Kakuzu's sleeves and snared Kiba mid-air.
Kakuzu didn't flinch. "Looks like even your heart's useless, pup," he muttered. "I've bought hearts tougher than yours in backwater towns, mutt." Two new masks emerged from his back—one veined and pulsing with water, the other crackling with arcs of electricity. Their eyes glowed with sickly chakra as they floated behind him like specters of elemental death.
A wave of chakra-infused water sent Kiba into a wall. Kiba felt his shoulder pop out of place—but he rolled back to his feet, growling.
"You think that was all I can give?" he barked—and then both he and Akamaru vanished in a puff of smoke.
Clones.
Behind Kakuzu, his instincts screamed at him to move. He immediately activated Doton: Iron Skin, but it was already too late.
A towering beast, over three meters tall, with snowy fur and two canine heads, descended on him. Its claws tore Kakuzu's torso clean in half before the Jutsu could fully form—and in that very instant, a firestorm ignited around the impact point, consuming the surrounding rubble in a violent burst of red and orange.
The Lightning mask, hovering too close, was flung like a comet into a crumbling stone wall, cracking the masonry with a sickening crunch. The Water mask, caught in the backlash of heat and concussive force, was thrown violently toward the Wind mask hovering nearby. Both tumbled in the air—spinning, glitching—but before they could hit the ground, threads extended and reeled them in like puppets. In eerie unison, the masks stabilized and reformed with twitching precision.
The wind and water masks now merged and launched a combined technique—razor air blades soaked in acidic mist—but the beast moved again, closing the distance in a blur. This time it struck at the Lightning mask, whose terrible Jutsu had only begun to charge.
The werewolf's claw tore through it, ignoring the Lightning sparks erupting in response. The heart shattered.
From the distance, Kakuzu—already regenerating—watched as the Lightning mask dissolved. He snarled and summoned his remaining masks, fusing them into his body. The fluidity of water, the strength of earth, and the freedom of air combined.
It was a form he hadn't used since fighting the Third Raikage, and this time, he couldn't die due to the stress of this technique on his body, it's going to be interesting.
The twin headed beast was already charging again.
This battle had only just begun...
<<<< o >>>>
Amid the chaos that engulfed the village, Shino walked with a calmness that didn't match the trembling earth or the distant screams. Shielded by the talisman entrusted to him by Danzo-sama, he slipped unnoticed through the corridors of the Hokage building. His mission was precise: prevent Naruto from returning to Konoha only to die. Danzo had made it clear—this enemy was too dangerous, even for him. If Jiraiya fell, if the front line broke, the Jinchūriki's sacrifice must be avoided at all costs.
He saw a few Root operatives assisting civilians into shelters. Shino barely acknowledged them, but he didn't hesitate. "Convincing Hinata to join Root was the right decision," he thought, ascending silently through the Hokage's tower.
He waited.
Inside the Hokage's office, the small toad—Mount Myōboku's summon—rested as Shizune spoke to it urgently. When she left, Shino knew. This was his moment. Not out of hatred—but duty.
His insects slithered from the shadows, delivering paralytic venom to the toad's moist skin before it could begin its ritual to return to Mount Myōboku. Its breathing slowed. Its legs buckled. And before it could react, a precise kunai pierced its throat. No pain. No struggle. It was the least he could offer. "For the greater good..." he murmured, though a strange pang twisted in his chest.
As he exited the building, a report reached his ears. Hidan. Sighted near the Hyūga district. "An Edo Tensei," someone whispered. "Active combat. Multiple casualties."
Danzo hadn't given him any orders beyond this mission. But the recent image of Kurenai's worry for Asuma, in that hospital still lingered. Hidan had defiled Asuma's body as a ritual trophy. Who would Shino be if he ignored that?
He moved with purpose and speed. His objective was clear. Stone Breathing grounded him. His chakra thickened, his commands silent. The kikaichū spread around him, casting a web across the battlefield before he even arrived.
The ground reeked of blood and gunpowder. Three Hyūga jōnin fought with difficulty. Hidan spun with his triple-bladed scythe, laced with explosives. One of his arms was altered—from which Hidan could withdraw an arsenal of kunais with explosive tags. And the Hyūga couldn't seal the tenketsu of someone who simply regenerated with every wound. The situation had them fighting a defensive battle with an enemy they could not defeat.
Corpses lay scattered, some marked with ritual symbols. Shino didn't hesitate.
His insects infiltrated. The battlefield was subtly marked, layered with hidden seals. They masked his presence—and that of his kikaichū. Then Shino buried himself underground. He would command the battlefield from below.
When Hidan lunged again, slicing a minor shinobi, he took the blood and stepped into his ritual circle. He raised his stake and plunged it into his chest—
But nothing happened.
The circle shimmered briefly, almost alive—then vanished into nothing. The seal was gone.
Hidan's face reflected disbelief "What the hell—WHERE'S MY BLOOD?!"
The kikaichū had consumed the blood, unraveling the ritual seal. As Hidan noticed the insects and cursed, he leapt into the air. Mid-flight, he reached for his bomb tags—but the seal on his wrist refused to activate.
Shino watched. "Did you think I'd let you harm my swarms?" he thought. Hidan spun in the air, slashing at invisible enemies. But the insects were already clinging to him. Soon, he dropped his weapon, frantically clawing at his own body. His knees hit the ground.
Not from venom.
But from the threads his enemies had woven.
The Hyūga jōnin saw him, motionless yet breathing, locked in place. And then, from beneath the earth, Shino emerged—his expression calm.
"I'll take care of keeping him sealed," he said, in a voice that was neither harsh nor kind—but resolute.
The jōnin nodded silently and withdrew. None of them wanted to see what Shino would do next.
Because even under control… he couldn't deny that part of him wanted Hidan to suffer.