"The power of the Mangekyo… Susano'o!"
A terrifying, crimson aura erupted from Uchiha Itachi, solidifying into a skeletal, humanoid form that enveloped him completely. This was the pinnacle of the Uchiha's ocular power, a manifestation of their spiritual energy given physical form. The partial skeleton began to flesh out, especially at the back, where it thickened into plate-like armor, creating a formidable-looking ribcage shield around its user.
"Namikaze Raimon! I have seen through your tricks!" Itachi declared from within his crimson fortress, his voice echoing with a newfound, if strained, confidence. His faith in his Mangekyō Sharingan and the legendary defense of the Susano'o was absolute.
He firmly believed that no ninjutsu of Raimon's could pierce this ultimate shield. His goal now was a show of force, a demonstration of power grand enough to make Raimon back down and allow his escape. If the situation escalated further, he would have no choice but to abduct Sasuke from Konoha, ruining all his carefully laid plans.
Even in its initial, skeletal stage, the Susano'o loomed over ten meters tall, a towering, spectral giant that was impossible to miss. All across the area, shinobi and civilians alike who noticed the colossal red apparition were already rushing towards the scene, a mix of reinforcements and gawking spectators.
"Doton: Nyōdō Kesseki no Jutsu!" (Earth Release: Urethral Calculus Technique!)"Suiton: Bōchō Hozon no Jutsu!" (Water Release: Bladder Retention Technique!)
Raimon didn't even move. He simply spoke the names of the jutsu, and two waves of maleficent chakra washed over the Susano'o.
Inside his protective shell, Uchiha Itachi suddenly felt a deep, unsettling pressure in his lower abdomen. An urgent, overwhelming need to urinate seized him, a sensation so intense it was becoming physically painful to resist.
"This is…!" Itachi's mind raced, accessing old Anbu files on Raimon. The intelligence was sparse but clear: victims of his unique brand of ninjutsu were afflicted with uncontrollable urinary urges, often leading to… self-mutilation.
"Heh~ Is that all you have?" Itachi forced out, his voice dripping with disdain. He was a shinobi of unparalleled willpower! He recalled a past mission where he had remained perfectly still, holding his bladder for three days and three nights without flinching! This was nothing!
But ideals are grand, and reality is a harsh, unrelenting mistress.
As seconds ticked by, the pressure built into a truly agonizing distension. It felt like a water balloon was inflating to its breaking point inside him. If he didn't relieve the pressure soon, the consequences would be catastrophic. But Namikaze Raimon was still standing there, watching him with a predator's patience, that infernal blue-glowing drill lazily spinning in his hand.
Itachi clenched every muscle, his legs trembling slightly from the strain. Pride warred with basic biology.
"I… can't hold it anymore!" Uchiha Itachi was a pragmatist above all else. Dignity was a luxury he couldn't afford. With a shudder of surrender, he let go. A dark patch spread across the front of his black robes, hidden from the outside world by the red energy of the Susano'o, which seemed to pulse and deepen in color as if in sympathy.
"Comfortable~" The wave of relief was so profound it was almost euphoric.
But the relief was brutally short-lived. A sharp, stabbing, tearing pain lanced through him, so sudden and violent it stole his breath.
"Nani kore?!" (What the hell?!) The shock of it nearly made him lose his concentration, causing the Susano'o to flicker. He was trapped in a nightmare dilemma: if he stopped, his bladder would suffer; if he continued, his 'little brother' would be shredded by the internal calculi.
"I refuse to believe this!" Gritting his teeth, Itachi endured the excruciating pain and pushed through. A small, sharp-edged stone, stained with blood, eventually clattered down his leg and onto the ground inside the Susano'o. A crimson trickle began to seep from beneath his robe.
"What the actual f*ck! This guy is a real one!" Namikaze Raimon muttered, a flicker of genuine, horrified admiration crossing his face. Most people would have chosen the quick, clean cut. This guy had gritted his teeth and passed a kidney stone the size of a kunai tip the hard way. "A man of great talent and bold vision! I salute you as a true, hardcore man!"
An ordinary person would have been knocked unconscious by the brain's protective mechanisms. But a shinobi's heightened endurance was a curse, forcing them to experience the full, unadulterated agony.
"So… want to go for round two?" Namikaze Raimon's expression was terrifyingly cheerful now, like a horror movie villain who had just chopped down a door with an axe and was peeking through the hole.
Hearing those words, Uchiha Itachi's free hand instinctively shot down to cover himself. He had seriously considered the amputation option, but he'd held back. He was the last hope for the Uchiha bloodline; if something ever happened to Sasuke, he was the only backup.
The most frightening part was that he still didn't understand how Raimon had done it. There was no contact, no visible chakra thread. A foreign chakra fluctuation had simply appeared inside his body, and the nightmare had begun.
No wonder the Four Great Shinobi Nations wanted him dead so badly! Itachi thought, his body still throbbing. He must have done something that angered all nations, probably using these techniques on the Kage themselves!
He had to be extremely careful. His Susano'o was a perfect defense against physical attacks and most ninjutsu, but it was utterly useless against this insidious, internal assault.
With one hand, he lifted the unconscious form of Kisame Hoshigaki, whose backside was a blossoming ruin. With his other hand, he formed a quick seal. He had one last card to play.
"Genjutsu: Tsukuyomi!"
A subtle, almost imperceptible wave of Yin-release chakra shot towards Namikaze Raimon, attempting to invade his mental world.
"Everything in this world is under my control! Time, space, mass… all of it!" Itachi's voice echoed in the fabricated realm.
Inside the Tsukuyomi, Namikaze Raimon found himself nailed to a large, wooden cross. Two phantom Uchiha Itachis stood on either side, holding long, gleaming swords which they proceeded to drive into Raimon's kidneys.
Stab! Stab! Stab!
The sound was sickeningly wet. Simultaneously, countless identical scenes materialized all around them, an infinite hall of mirrors reflecting the same torture, amplifying the pain and despair exponentially.
"You will endure this for seventy-two hours!" Itachi's voice was cold. "And in the real world, only one second will have passed!"
He was venting his fury. This man had humiliated him, brought him to the brink of self-mutilation. He stabbed Raimon's phantom kidneys seven, eight, nine times in rapid succession.
But the Raimon on the cross didn't scream. He didn't even grunt.
Itachi paused, puzzled. "Strange… this shouldn't be happening."
"Heh heh~ So this is the famous Tsukuyomi?" The Raimon on the cross spoke, his voice filled not with pain, but with mocking amusement. He looked directly at Itachi. "You think you can mess with me on my own home turf?"
As soon as the words were spoken, the world inverted. The figure on the cross morphed into Uchiha Itachi, his wrists bound. The two figures holding the swords transformed into Namikaze Raimon, who grinned wickedly.
Invading another's mind was like entering their dream. The one with the stronger will and mental power held the true advantage. And could a sickly Uchiha Itachi's mental stamina possibly surpass that of the man who mastered the Hiraishin?
That jutsu required immense spatial awareness and chakra control rooted in powerful mental faculties. Setting a Flying Thunder God mark wasn't just a physical carving; it was an imprint on the user's very soul!
Seeing himself now trapped on the cross, this mental fragment of Uchiha Itachi stared in stunned disbelief.
"This isn't right… this can't be right… I must be dreaming. I never came to Konoha! Right! I'm still in Amegakure!"
With that desperate, fractured thought, the mental clone shattered.
Back in reality, Namikaze Raimon simply tilted his head and scratched his neck. "Huh. Felt like a mosquito bite for a second. A little itchy."
Watching Raimon act as if absolutely nothing had happened, the last vestiges of confidence drained from Uchiha Itachi's face, replaced by sheer, unadulterated shock. His ultimate genjutsu, his never-fail Tsukuyomi, had been not only broken but utterly toyed with. He had been the one outplayed on the mental battlefield.
"How… how is this possible?!" Itachi gritted his teeth, fresh streams of blood now pouring from the corners of his eyes from the strain and backlash.
Namikaze Raimon cracked his neck. "My turn now, don't you think?"
He took a running start, the drill in his right hand growing larger. However, the crackling lightning glow was gone, replaced by a swirling, faint cyan aura of pure Wind Release chakra. Raimon had no intention of killing Itachi yet. The man was still useful for keeping Tobi in check and the Akatsuki on their toes. If the plot advanced too quickly, it would be inconvenient for his own, grander plans.
First, he needed to find Orochimaru and perfect the Edo Tensei. Then, he would resurrect Minato and others, setting the stage to hijack Nagato's Rinne Rebirth. He especially wanted to see the look on Uchiha Madara's face when he was Edo Tensei'd only to find a fully revived Hashirama and Izuna waiting for him.
(A hypothetical, future Madara: "I haven't even started the Infinite Tsukuyomi yet! How are you all alive?!")
"Ready or not… here I come!"
In a flash of yellow, Raimon vanished and reappeared directly behind the towering red Susano'o.
"Fūton: Senri Okuri!" (Wind Release: Journey of A Thousand Miles!)
He thrust his Wind Release-infused hand forward not as a drill, but as an open palm. A colossal hurricane erupted, enveloping the entire Susano'o with Uchiha Itachi and the unconscious Kisame inside.
SPIN ~ JUMP!
The cyclone ripped the massive construct from the ground with terrifying force. The red Susano'o, with its two occupants, became a spinning projectile, launched high into the sky over Konoha. It shrank rapidly, soon becoming nothing more than a tiny black dot against the blue expanse.
A single, faint, and gradually weakening voice trailed back to earth, a promise and a threat carried on the wind.
"I… will… be… back…!"