"Stay. Right. Here."
The voice, cold and dripping with finality, cut through the night air. Shimura Danzo stepped fully into the ring of firelight, his cane tapping softly against the forest floor. As he did, a translucent, shimmering dome of energy erupted from the tree line, encasing the entire clearing with a low hum. A barrier seal, complex and potent.
"I am well aware of your proficiency with the Hiraishin no Jutsu," Danzo stated, a note of smug satisfaction in his tone. He had spent years and countless resources developing countermeasures for space-time ninjutsu after the Yellow Flash's reign, investments that had gathered dust since Minato's death. Tonight, they would finally bear fruit. "This was prepared specifically for you."
Raimon's senses immediately flared out, analyzing the barrier. His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Tch. I really can't afford to underestimate old schemers who've been lurking in the shadows this long," he muttered, a grudging respect in his voice.
The space within the barrier was deliberately scrambled, turbulent. While he could likely force his own exit, attempting to teleport others through this chaotic field was a gamble with dismemberment or worse. As an Edo Tensei, he'd reassemble. Tsunade, Jiraiya, Naruto, and Shizune would not.
"I admit, I underestimated your thoroughness, Danzo," Raimon said, stepping forward to place himself between the Root operatives and his companions. Behind him, Jiraiya and Tsunade fell into battle stances, their expressions grim. Shizune positioned herself protectively near Naruto, senbon glinting in her hands.
Only Naruto, brimming with a naïve sense of justice, blurted out, "Hey! Eyepatch old man! My dad was the Yondaime! If you hurt us, the whole village will know! You'll be in so much trouble, 'ttebayo!"
Raimon facepalmed audibly. "Kid, he's here to kill us all. Dead men tell no tales, and dead boys don't file complaints."
Didn't he see that even the legendary Sannin weren't wasting breath on threats? They understood the rules of this dark game.
Danzo let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "The Fourth Hokage? A ghost from a bygone era. If you are so confident, by all means, summon him now." His single visible eye swept over them like they were already corpses. "The Sannin are assembled, save for the traitor Orochimaru. And you," he said, his gaze settling on Raimon, "a dead man walking. You should not meddle in the affairs of the living."
He raised his hand. The circle of Root ninja, dozens strong, tightened their grip on their weapons and began a slow, coordinated advance. Danzo himself retreated to the very edge of the barrier. "Kurama, Yakumo. Begin."
A pale, dark-haired girl of perhaps thirteen stepped from the shadows behind him, unfurling a scroll and a brush. Her eyes held a vacant, focused look.
"Leave this to me!" Naruto, fueled by the success of his Rasengan and utterly lacking in tactical fear, was the first to move. "Kage Bunshin no Jutsu!"
Poof! Poof! Poof! A small army of about thirty orange-clad clones materialized, each one cupping a spinning, azure Rasengan in their palm. It was Naruto's classic strategy: overwhelm with sheer, undiluted numbers.
"Don't let them close! Eliminate the clones!" a Root squad leader barked. In unison, a volley of kunai and shuriken whistled through the air, expertly aimed. Several clones popped into smoke before they could take two steps. The others charged recklessly, but the Root operatives moved with chilling synchronicity, dodging and weaving, using teamwork to dismantle Naruto's brute-force assault. It was like watching a skilled matador evade a charging bull.
"He's all power, no finesse. He could learn a thing or two about subtlety from Orochimaru," Raimon sighed, shaking his head. Time to stop spectating.
"Kage Bunshin no Jutsu!"
Another cloud of smoke erupted, and just as many Raimon clones as Naruto's appeared. In the same instant, Raimon's true body flashed behind the real Naruto, grabbing him by the scruff of his jacket.
"You're on babysitting duty!" he called out, hurling the startled blond boy towards Jiraiya and Tsunade's position.
"Hey! Uncle Raimon!"
"Just watch him!" Raimon called back.
Then, forty-something copies of him grinned in unison, their hands rising. In each palm, a technique took shape—not a simple Rasengan, but a monstrous, corkscrewing drill of concentrated chakra, crackling with lightning, sheathed in wind, and blazing with an inner core of fire. "Wind, Lightning, Fire Release: Taijutsu Ōgi – Sen nen no Shi no Kaminari Kaze Honō Rasengan Sōkō Denden Doriiru!" (Wind, Lightning, Fire Release: Secret Taijutsu – Thousand Years of Death Lightning Wind Fire Rasengan Soaring Electric Light Drill!)
The air itself whined in protest. The combined nature transformations were terrifying: Lightning to numb and paralyze, Wind to grind and sever, Fire to cauterize and incinerate. The intended target area was unmistakable.
"Defensive formation! Protect your rears!" The Root captain's voice, for the first time, held a edge of panic. The operatives instantly shifted, standing back-to-back, weapons held low to guard against the dreaded downward thrust. They'd clearly been briefed.
"Heh. You've done your homework," Raimon's main body mused, a smirk playing on his lips. One of his hands formed a rapid, one-handed seal. "But let's see how you handle the warm-up. Doton: Jinzō Seki Jutsu! Nyōdō Seki Jutsu!" (Earth Release: Kidney Stone Technique! Urethral Stone Technique!)
An insidious, almost undetectable wave of chakra washed over the Root ranks. Deep within their bodies, microscopic mineral deposits in their kidneys began to rapidly crystallize and grow. Simultaneously, sharp, gritty formations started to develop in their urethras. A deep, ominous discomfort bloomed in their abdomens and lower tracts.
It was merely an irritant. For now.
"Suiton: Bōkō Shuisō!" (Water Release: Bladder Edema!)
A second wave hit them. A sudden, overwhelming, and urgent pressure filled their bladders to the point of agony. The need to urinate became an immediate, screaming imperative.
"Do NOT relieve yourselves! Hold it!" the captain snarled through clenched teeth. His own face, beneath the mask, was purpling with strain. They all understood the horrific synergy of the jutsu. Letting go would force liquid and sharp stones through a now razor-lined passage. But holding it meant their bladders might rupture.
A young Root operative whimpered, his legs trembling. "C-Captain! I… I can't…!"
"Breathe deeply! Intel suggests controlled breathing mitigates the damage!" the captain ordered, recalling fragmented reports from long-ago survivors.
Desperate, the younger operatives began taking huge, gulping breaths. It was a catastrophic mistake. The abdominal pressure increased. A dark, damp patch spread on one ninja's trousers, quickly tinged with crimson.
"AH! The intel was wrong! IT'S WRONG!" The operative's scream was one of pure, shattered betrayal. The floodgates, once opened, could not be closed. The resulting pain was unspeakable.
One ninja, eyes wild with agony and determination, made a choice. In a flash of cold steel, he drew a kunai and swung it decisively downward. A choked cry, then a look of pale, sweaty relief. He quickly sealed the wound with a burst of chakra. "There! Now I can focus on the fight!"
The grim logic was infectious. Several others, pushed beyond endurance, made the same desperate, sterilizing choice. The forest floor was soon littered with grim trophies.
Jiraiya watched, his own body instinctively curling in on itself, hands flying to protect his most cherished assets.
"S-So brutal… The bingo book descriptions didn't do it justice…" He made a silent vow to never, ever get on Raimon's bad side. A life without the pursuit of 'inspiration' was no life at all.
"My little Rai-Rai is as impressive as ever!" Tsunade cheered, her eyes sparkling with morbid admiration.
"Now, let's see you fight!" The remaining Root ninja, freed from one source of agony but filled with rage and shame, launched a furious counterattack. Fireballs, earth walls, swarms of venomous insects—a barrage of ninjutsu flew towards the Raimon clones.
The clones didn't even bother dodging. They took the hits head-on, bodies cracking and dissolving into papery ash, only to immediately begin reforming. Poison? Useless against the Edo Tensei's pseudo-body.
"You think I'm slow without the Hiraishin?" the reformed clones taunted in unison. Then they moved. Not teleportation, but speed born of immense chakra and refined shunshin. They blurred into the Root formation.
Thwack! Thud!
A clone kicked the legs out from a back-to-back pair. Before they could hit the ground, the whirling, three-nature Drill was pressed home with clinical precision.
"GYAAAAAAAAHH!!"
Twin screams, high-pitched and utterly broken, ripped through the night. The smell of ozone, burned flesh, and something fouler filled the air. A few of the more skilled Root managed to break the clones attacking them, saving themselves but unable to help their comrades.
The survivors, now a much smaller circle, stood back-to-back in a puddle of their own making, their defensive postures pathetic and strained. They glanced at their fallen teammates. The armored plates over their posteriors were melted through, the wounds beneath cauterized into blackened, bloodless craters. They had witnessed death in every form, but the sheer, targeted humiliation and horror of this… it made every one of them clench involuntarily.
They saw Raimon's main body begin forming seals again. Pure, animal terror seized them.
"Suiton: Jin'ū Suishō!" (Water Release: Hydronephrosis Technique!)
A new, deep, sickening pressure began to build in their kidneys, as if the organs themselves were swelling and drowning from within. The remaining Root ninja's resolve, already fractured by pain, shame, and terror, finally shattered. The Chrysanthemum Guard, Danzo's elite, had been utterly wilted.