Magnet Style, Lapis Burst.
The technique worked on the same principle as Gaara's Sand Coffin, crushing the target beneath overwhelming pressure, only this time the medium was not common sand, it was gleaming gold dust.
Gold sand had more flair, more menace, more bite.
But Fugaku had no intention of moving into the Yellow Springs this early.
A shrill chorus like a thousand sparrows exploded to life. Lightning screamed, ripped through the golden shell, and in the next breath Fugaku became a streak of blue, thunder bolting straight for Rasa.
So this is the technique from the reports, Rasa thought, brow tightening. He lifted one hand. The gold beneath his feet swelled, raising a steady platform to stand on while the vast dune he had conjured remained below.
With a low command, the entire golden hill seethed, then surged upward in a roaring crest, a titanic wave collapsing from the sky to smash everything beneath it.
A sea's worth of gold sand, heavy and merciless. Even the piercing thrust of Chidori was a twig against a flood.
Fugaku did not retreat. He accelerated, planted his crackling palm and drove the lightning into the ground. The spear of Chidori thickened and braced, boosting him up and onto the rolling surge. He touched down atop the tide of gold and sprinted along it, racing straight for the Kazekage.
"Run to me, then," Rasa said coolly. "I will bury you myself."
His hands rose. The ground lurched. The golden pillar beneath Fugaku twisted and launched skyward, carrying him with it. Rings of gold dust spiraled up its sides, coiling into a cage that rushed to seal around him.
Fugaku had seen it coming. Before the cage could close, his hands flashed through signs, chakra swelled in his throat.
"Fire Style, Majestic Dragon Fire!"
A dragon of flame roared out and slammed into the pillar, swallowing the gold in a furnace blast. Using the recoil, Fugaku burst free, closing the gap again. He rotated midair, flicked both feet, and launched two kunai like bullets toward Rasa.
"Pointless," Rasa murmured. He raised a palm. The gold at his feet rose in a smooth wall and caught the kunai.
He reached to command the sands and swat Fugaku from the air, but one of the "caught" kunai bloomed into a puff of smoke. A pair of crimson eyes flashed within.
"Transformation," Rasa hissed. "Since the spiral lift, then."
The Sharingan spun. Three tomoe whirled like black comets, and the world tilted. Space folded, sight melted, balance shattered.
Rasa's senses stuttered for a heartbeat. Fugaku did not waste it. Lightning shrieked to life in his hand again and he drove the crackling blade straight for the Kazekage's heart.
Gold rose to meet him, but the moment Chidori pierced the outer layer, the sand exploded outward, hardening into a bouquet of spears that stabbed straight through Fugaku's body.
"This… impossible…"
He stared down, stunned. His genjutsu was elite by clan standards, sharpened further by the dormant weight of his Mangekyō. It should not have been dispelled so easily.
Then he saw it. Floating over Rasa's shoulder was an unblinking, golden third eye.
Of course. A spare eye made of sand and chakra, watching from outside the illusion's frame. That was how he slipped the net.
Fugaku exhaled once, almost amused with himself, and burst into smoke.
A shadow clone.
Rasa's breath returned in a rough gust. The Uchiha reputation was well earned. If not for Maki's earlier brush with illusion, he might have died right there.
But this time, the board belonged to him.
He looked up at the real Fugaku plummeting in free fall. No handholds, no purchase, nowhere to switch with a log. This one was genuine.
A worthy opponent, Rasa thought. A pity you must die here.
Gold erupted from every direction, a seamless, airtight sphere swallowing Fugaku whole.
Allow me to grant you a magnificent funeral.
Rasa pressed both palms down. The sphere smashed into the desert, then he landed atop it and drove his hands deeper, compressing with an avalanche weight.
"Gold Dust Grand Burial."
Ripples sank outward in heavy rings. The desert cratered, layer by layer.
Before the compression could finish, the sarcophagus exploded. A geyser of smoke blasted skyward, and a gigantic brown serpent burst from the gold, its scales glittering with dust. On its head, arms spread and chest heaving, lay Uchiha Fugaku.
Beside him stood a long-haired man in a jonin vest, skin as pale as fresh paper, eyes amused, lips curved in a playful crescent.
"You arrived right on time, Lord Orochimaru," Fugaku said, catching his breath, a thin thread of relief in his voice.
"Hehe, I have been here for quite a while," Orochimaru purred. "Watching you burn so brightly, Fugaku-kun, stirred even my blood. I could hardly bear to intrude."
Fugaku stared at him in flat silence.
Inside his head: a long string of symbols that would have scandalized the temple monks.
Seeing that look, Orochimaru's smile sharpened, just a touch of mischief in it. "You understand, do you not? For a shinobi, intelligence is everything."
So I was the field test, the lure, the measuring stick. You watched me bleed so your data would be perfect, Fugaku thought darkly.
Fair skin, black heart. If someone cut Orochimaru open, the inside would be pitch black.
Utterly, gloriously black.
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