"Suiton: Jin'ū Suishō no Jutsu!" (Water Release: Kidney Hydronephrosis Technique!)
The remaining cluster of Root ninja instantly doubled over, a sickening, deep-seated agony blossoming in their flanks. It wasn't the sharp pain of a blade, but a dreadful, swelling, drowning pressure that made them want to claw at their own skin. Several collapsed to their knees, hands pressed desperately to their sides, gasping ragged breaths that did nothing to alleviate the internal torment.
"Breathe… deep breaths…!" one managed to wheeze, the tactic offering a sliver of relief against the overwhelming nausea and visceral distress. They were shinobi; they could endure severed limbs and gouged flesh. But this assault from within, this violation of their very organs, was a different kind of hell. It bypassed all their mental fortitude training.
Ugh—BLARGH!
One operative couldn't hold back, vomiting violently. Bitter, yellow bile seeped from under the edge of his mask, mixing with the mud.
"That's… that's way too hardcore!" Naruto whispered, his eyes wide. He didn't fully understand the medical horror of what was happening, but the sight of so many elite enemies brought to their knees—or rather, to their sides—by his uncle filled him with a fierce, triumphant glee.
"Granny Tsunade," he whispered, tugging on her sleeve. "Who's stronger? My dad or Uncle Raimon?"
Tsunade blinked, thrown by the sudden question mid-battlefield. Memories flashed—a young, fox-faced Minato being chased around training grounds by a cackling Raimon, a vine whip soaked in antiseptic ('for sterilization!' Raimon had claimed) in hand. Minato's terrifying mastery of the Hiraishin had been forged in a crucible of avoiding his older brother's 'disciplinary lessons.'
"Hehe~ What do you think?" Tsunade deftly tossed the question back.
"My dad, of course! He became Hokage!" Naruto declared, puffing out his chest with pride.
Tsunade and Jiraiya exchanged a brief, knowing look but said nothing. Let the kid have his heroes.
Back in the clearing, the internal pressure built to an unbearable peak. The trapped fluids and multiplying stones within their kidneys created an agony that overshadowed even their other injuries. One ninja, writhing on the ground, had his mask dislodged. His face was a mask of pure suffering, teeth gritted so hard they threatened to crack, cold sweat pouring like rain. The dam broke elsewhere first, a dark stain spreading.
PFFT! SCHLICK!
With a final, guttural cry of desperation, the man reversed his grip on a kunai and plunged it into his own flank. With a sickening wet tear, he reached in and yanked—pulling out a swollen, stone-riddled kidney. He collapsed back, his breath growing shallow, but an expression of profound, eerie relief settled on his face. Freedom.
It was a gruesome catalyst. Several others, driven beyond sanity by the pain, followed suit in a horrific, synchronized act of self-mutilation. Within moments, the ground before Raimon was littered not just with bodies, but with ones wearing smiles of release. It was a chilling, silent tableau.
"D-Demon… You evil demon… You'll… burn in hell…" one of the first victims, the one with the cauterized rear, lifted his head a final time to spit the curse before his eyes glazed over.
"Hell?" Raimon scoffed, dusting off his hands as if removing something distasteful. "I've already been there. It's just… quiet."
He turned his back coolly on the twitching remains.
"So, Tsunade," he said, striking a pose and waggling his eyebrows. "Pretty awesome, right?"
"Your jutsu repertoire is needlessly sadistic! Can't you just punch them like a normal person?!" Tsunade covered her eyes, though the medical professional in her was morbidly fascinated.
Jiraiya and Shizune stood stiffly, their own bodies involuntarily tensing in sympathetic pain. Only Naruto buzzed with excitement. Deep within the seal, the Nine-Tails watched through Naruto's eyes and let out a low grumble. 'Note to self: Do not anger the paper-man. Death is one thing. That… is something else entirely.'
From the tree line, slow, measured clapping echoed. Danzo emerged, his earlier confidence tempered but not broken.
"Clap. Clap. Clap. Impressive. Truly impressive," he intoned, his voice dry. "It's no wonder the Four Great Shinobi Villages united to eliminate you all those years ago."
What he didn't add was his own role in that betrayal, the loss of his external forces that had cost him the Hokage seat after Minato's death.
He discarded his cane with a flick and began unwinding the bandages from his right arm. "Yakumo. Now."
The pale girl, Kurama Yakumo, who had been silently observing, lifted her brush. With a single, fluid stroke across the canvas that depicted the scene before her, she painted a jagged, black line of lightning from the sky.
The air crackled with ozone. Raimon's eyes widened in recognition. "EVERYONE, MOVE!"
His body moved before the thought finished. He lunged, wrapping one arm around Tsunade's waist, his other hand snagging Naruto by the collar. Tsunade, reacting with Sannin-level reflexes, grabbed Shizune's arm.
BOOOOM!
A searing bolt of tangible darkness struck the exact spot they had just occupied. The only one left in the blast zone was Jiraiya.
KABOOM!
"GAAAH! You treacherous, disloyal bastards!" Jiraiya was launched backwards, rolling to a stop covered in soot, his iconic white hair standing straight up and smoking. He coughed, a small puff of smoke leaving his mouth. "A little warning next time!"
"What… what was that?!" Tsunade stared in shock at the smoldering crater. An attack conjured from a painting?
Yakumo was already painting again. The world around them warped. The familiar forest melted away, replaced by a swirling, formless void of grays and blacks. They could still see each other, and Yakumo stood not twenty feet away, but she felt distant, untouchable, as if separated by layers of distorted glass.
"An illusion… that alters reality itself?" Raimon muttered, setting Tsunade down. This was a problem. His usual method—lock onto the target's coordinates and deliver a 'tailored greeting' via Hiraishin—hit a snag.
"Would using the Thousand Years of Death on a little girl be going too far…?" he pondered for a half-second before his gaze hardened, falling on Tsunade and then Naruto. "No. I have people to protect."
The environment continued to shift menacingly. Yakumo hadn't simply erased them yet, which meant her control wasn't absolute. 'Hiruzen… you old fox. You used this girl as your personal cleaner, didn't you?' Raimon thought with a surge of anger. 'Eliminating political rivals with 'accidents' born from nightmares.'
"If I can't hit the painter… I'll drown the canvas!" Raimon's hands flew through a rapid sequence of seals. While he had infinite chakra, he needed scale, overwhelming force to shatter this nascent reality before it fully solidified.
"Suiton: Daikōdan!" (Water Release: Great Shark Bomb!)
But he didn't stop at one. "Suiton: Suiryūdan no Jutsu!" (Water Release: Water Dragon Projectile!) "Suiton: Suijinheki!" (Water Release: Water Wall!)
He didn't aim at Yakumo. He aimed at the space, at the very fabric of her illusion. A tsunami of chakra-fed water erupted from him, not in a single technique, but in a continuous, torrential deluge. It was less a ninjutsu and more an act of elemental creation. The void tried to resist, the edges of the painted world flickering, but the sheer, relentless volume of water was a truth too brute-force to be painted over.
The raging currents swept through the illusionary space, crashing into Danzo and Yakumo. The connection between the girl and her canvas shattered. The void peeled away like wet paper, revealing the soaked, real forest once more. But Raimon's tidal wave remained, turning the clearing into a churning lake, the water level rising rapidly. It was a display of raw power that would make Kisame Hoshigaki nod in approval.
"Damn it all!" Danzo snarled as the cold water hit him. He reached for Yakumo, but a whip-like blade of water, sharper than any steel, lashed out from the current at his feet.
SWISH-THUD!
His left arm, from the elbow down, was severed cleanly. It was a calculated loss. He couldn't reveal the secrets grafted to his right arm here. With a final, hateful glare, he abandoned the stunned Yakumo, signaling his last two Root guards. The three figures vanished into the ravaged woods.
As the summoned waters began to recede, flowing away into the soil and leaving behind a swampy wasteland, the group regrouped, dripping wet.
"Is this really the time for that, you super-perv?!" Raimon's voice cut through the tension. He was glaring at Jiraiya, whose wide eyes were fixed firmly on Tsunade. Raimon's two fingers shot out in a classic 'I'll gouge your eyes out' motion.
"OW! My eyes! I wasn't looking at anything!" Jiraiya yelped, crouching and rubbing his face.
"Naruto," Raimon said, his tone shifting. "Go check on that girl over there. Make sure she's breathing."
"Huh? Oh, right! On it, 'ttebayo!" Naruto, ever eager to help, splashed through the mud toward the unconscious form of Kurama Yakumo.
Finally, Raimon turned his attention to the woman shivering slightly beside him. Tsunade's soaked clothes clung to her form with impeccable fidelity. Raimon hadn't fully appreciated the… hydrodynamic implications of his own jutsu until now.
A slow grin spread across his face. "A little damp, huh? Allow me." He formed a single, simple seal. "Katon: Sokansō!" (Fire Release: Quick Drying!)
A warm, gentle heat radiated from him, not a flame, but a dry, enveloping warmth designed to wick away the moisture. It was a utility technique, now wielded with very specific, appreciative intent.