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[NTU] [ARC-22] Chapter : 306
🕑 Added 2025-05-01 09:22:13 +0000 UTCFrom within the blazing flames, Toshiro’s playful voice echoed, carried on the heat like a taunt.
Before his words even faded, a red chakra longsword came crashing down from above, carrying the weight of a mountain as it slashed toward Nagato.
Clang!
A deep metallic sound rang out. A hulking, skeletal half-body Susanoo had formed, its blade intercepted by the burly body of the Asura Path.
Toshiro had deliberately refrained from summoning the full form of Susanoo. Against agile, humanoid foes like Nagato or Obito, a massive construct would only slow him down. The half-form, armored, and mobile was more than enough.
“Hmph, Asura Path?”
He wasn’t surprised to see his attack blocked. Feeling the chakra from his sword being absorbed, Toshiro remained calm.
“So that’s your play...”
Without hesitation, a second red-bladed sword manifested in Susanoo’s other arm and swept low—skimming the ground and cutting from a different angle.
“Shinra Tensei.”
Nagato activated his Tendo defense, repelling the assault with an outward surge of force.
With a mocking smirk, Toshiro scoffed, “You’re underestimating the Hokage, aren’t you?”
In that moment, a golden gleam shimmered behind Susanoo. The sound of rattling chains followed.
“Adamantine chains.”
Funneling chakra into his construct, Toshiro conjured massive golden chains—each nearly a meter thick—extending behind Susanoo and anchoring themselves into the earth behind Nagato.
Boom!
The Shinra Tensei hit hard. Even with Toshiro’s foresight—infusing chakra into the ground as support—the pressure was immense. Susanoo skidded back, carving a deep trench in the earth beneath it.
“Hold!”
Toshiro barked.
Susanoo’s two other arms shot out, each grasping the anchored chains. With a sharp pull, the chains went taut—and Susanoo halted abruptly, no longer retreating.
“Now,” Toshiro grinned at Nagato. “Let’s see who’s stronger.”
Despite the repulsive force trying to drive him back, Susanoo surged forward. The golden chains glowed as they tightened inch by inch, dragging Toshiro back toward his opponent.
A golden flash lit up Susanoo’s eyes as it roared and strained against the force.
“Tch... this guy...”
Nagato gritted his teeth. Even the otherwise cold and calculating Tendō felt the strain.
Nagato’s face flushed red with effort, the veins at his temples bulging. It was a raw, grueling contest—no tricks, no deception—just strength against strength.
“What's the matter?” Toshiro teased, watching Nagato’s contorted expression. “Can’t keep up?”
“I haven’t even started using my real power!” Nagato growled.
This was no longer a battle of ninjutsu—it had become a wrestling match between two titans, a brutal tug-of-war between willpower and chakra reserves.
As their struggle intensified, snowflakes began to fall from the heavens—gentle at first. But before they could land between the two, they were caught in an invisible maelstrom of force. Twisted into liquid midair, the droplets were then scattered into fine mist by the overwhelming energy radiating from the clash.
Off in the distance, the mountain pierced by Toshiro’s adamantine chains began to tremble. Chunks of rock crumbled and fell, unable to withstand the anchored pressure.
Crack. Crack.
Fissures began to form on the battlefield, spreading rapidly. The earth itself was fracturing beneath the overwhelming tension, as if it, too, couldn’t endure the titanic clash.
“...This isn’t looking good.”
Obito, now standing beside Nagato, glanced at his partner—face flushed, muscles straining—and then at Toshiro, who still had power to spare.
He swallowed hard.
Nagato had already pushed his limits with Chibaku Tensei, not to mention the earlier ambush by Orochimaru. Facing Toshiro in this state? Not ideal.
Even Black Zetsu, watching silently from afar, could sense it—Nagato was losing ground. Worse, Zetsu had a sinking feeling: if Toshiro decided Nagato wasn’t worth the effort, his next target could very well be him.
“Ugh…”
Nagato channeled every ounce of strength he had. The reactive force pressed against him like a tidal wave.
His facial muscles twitched, jaw clenched tight. With his gaunt face and bulging tendons, he almost looked comical under the pressure.
“Mada…”
Nagato barely managed to spit out Madara’s name. A trickle of blood dripped from the corner of his mouth—he’d bitten too hard. The blood seeped from the root of his gums.
The pressure mounted—becoming more suffocating with each second—as Nagato struggled to keep his footing. The sheer force Toshiro unleashed was relentless.
Crimson blood trickled from Nagato’s nostrils. He had truly given it everything he had.
And yet… the Fifth Hokage across from him showed no signs of exhaustion. Toshiro absorbed every ounce of Nagato’s strength—and hurled it right back, twice as hard.
As the standoff dragged on, Nagato felt a creeping realization. Even at full power—even without using Chibaku Tensei—he might not be able to outlast his opponent. The truth stung.
At last, desperate, he called out for Madara.
“Oh? Can’t take it anymore?”
Toshiro’s voice cut through the clash, calm and confident. Unlike Nagato, he spoke with ease—no struggle, no heavy breathing. Just quiet dominance.
His gaze shifted past Nagato… locking onto Obito.
In his scarlet Mangekyō, a mischievous glint danced.
Obito froze.
The last time Toshiro had looked at him like that, Obito ended up bedridden for half a month. The mere memory made his throat dry. The Kamui he had been preparing to cast faltered.
“What? Forgot how it felt once the bruises faded?”
Toshiro raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. The teasing gleam in his eye made Obito twitch involuntarily.
The truth was, Toshiro had beaten him senseless the last time. And if not for White Zetsu’s regenerative body, Obito would’ve been out of commission for months.
Toshiro cracked his knuckles.
“Hmph. I must’ve gone too easy on you last time.”
For a reckless brat like Obito, there was only one solution:
Discipline.
A good beating was the only language he understood. If he didn’t learn to fear Toshiro, what good was being Hokage?
Toshiro’s hands itched. If the kid dared to challenge him again, he’d teach him what a big brother’s “lesson” really meant.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
Nagato, seated on his wooden mobility device, grimaced as his platform creaked under the strain. The physics of it were simple: push too hard with Shinra Tensei, and if the enemy doesn’t budge, you absorb the recoil.
And Toshiro didn’t budge.
Now the machine began to slide backward, Nagato powerless to stop it.
Obito couldn’t hesitate any longer.
Nagato was slipping. Another moment and it would be too late.
“No room for fear now,” Obito muttered. His body shimmered, shifting into intangibility. Then—he vanished.
He had made his decision.
Even if it meant taking another brutal beating, he couldn’t let Nagato fall here.
He knew it already: they couldn’t win. Not today. Not against Toshiro.
But they could still protect each other. And they must not let Nagato fall into the Hokage’s hands.
That would be the end of everything.
Black Zetsu didn’t even factor into the equation.
“Bold move, kid,” Toshiro said coolly, turning his head.
Behind him, the air rippled—Kamui’s swirling vortex distorted the space.
Obito had actually phased into the Susanoo.
That, Toshiro admitted, took guts.
Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh!
Obito launched giant shuriken, each nearly a meter wide, spinning toward Toshiro with deadly precision—aimed at his head, neck, chest.
No hesitation. No restraint.
But—
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The shuriken passed clean through Toshiro’s body, striking the blood-red chakra bones of Susanoo.
Obito froze.
This scene... felt hauntingly familiar.
Gritting his teeth, Obito reached for the ninja blade at his waist. One more try.
But before he could lift it—
A blinding flash. A sword slash, hurtling straight at his skull.
Any ordinary man would’ve dodged. But not Obito.
He ignored the incoming strike and swung at Toshiro’s head in return.
“Surprised?” Toshiro’s voice echoed.
Suddenly, the world around them twisted—blackness, lightning flickering at the edges of Kamui’s dimension.
Two heads floated in the void, locked in midair. One masked. One grinning wildly, white teeth flashing beneath long, tousled hair.
“Oh? Looks like you prepared a little welcoming party for me.”
Below, kunai and shuriken spiraled through the Kamui space, laced with traps and hidden seals.
Toshiro scoffed.
He wasn’t surprised. Cautious as always, Obito had rigged his dimension. Crossbows, cursed spells—typical tricks.
But for someone like Toshiro?
Trifles. Easily dispelled.
Just before the traps could close in, Toshiro lunged forward—his disembodied head headbutting Obito’s mask.
Bang!
A dull thud reverberated through the void—and both heads vanished from the dimension.
When Obito reappeared in the real world, he was rattled.
“You… you can use Kamui that precisely?!”
He stared, wide-eyed. He hadn’t expected Toshiro to not only enter the Kamui space, but to move through it with as much finesse as he himself could.
It shook him.
He knew all too well—against Toshiro, his ninjutsu and taijutsu were useless.
And genjutsu…
“You really don’t know how to fight without your Mangekyō, do you?” Toshiro taunted from behind.
Obito's stunned expression did nothing to move Toshiro.
Without a word, a shadow emerged behind him—flickering briefly—before both the figure and its afterimage vanished.
Obito’s eyes widened.
“Oh no—!”
Still dazed from the earlier blow, the sight of that familiar black silhouette jolted him back to full alertness. Like a startled rabbit, he leapt away, phasing out of Toshiro’s Susanoo with Kamui just in time.
“This is bad…”
A cold sweat ran down his back. He understood now: if he got too close to Toshiro, the Hokage could access Kamui space freely—as if it were his own.
Whether it was to dodge attacks or trap enemies, it no longer gave Obito any advantage.
Cautiously, he peeked into his dimension.
Inside, his worst fear was confirmed—another version of Toshiro had obliterated every trap he had set in a matter of seconds. Total devastation.
“Can he… actually use my Kamui like it's his own—just because he's within the overlapping space?”
Standing behind the towering Susanoo, Obito’s mind raced with doubt. Could Toshiro truly manipulate the Kamui realm so effortlessly?
As if reading his thoughts, Toshiro spoke casually, with that ever-present air of confidence.
“You’re not as slow-witted as I thought.”
He wasn’t hiding it anymore. Obito had guessed correctly.
When their bodies overlapped in the Kamui-afflicted space, Toshiro could freely manipulate it—just like Obito himself.
“But that’s enough chit-chat,” Toshiro added, turning away. “Your friends can’t hold out much longer.”
In truth, Obito was lucky. If Nagato hadn’t drawn away the brunt of his power, Toshiro wouldn’t have let him walk away so easily.
Still, the clone he had left in Kamui would be more than enough to give Obito a proper reminder of who he was dealing with.
Meanwhile, Nagato continued to grit his teeth and hold his ground, barely able to resist the oncoming force.
From the corner of his eye, he noticed something—an unfamiliar white mass emerging beside him. It writhed and expanded, slowly morphing into a blob that resembled an origo before slithering toward his body and latching on.
Nagato’s first instinct was suspicion.
Was this another of Toshiro’s tricks? Was this the end?
But just then, a voice whispered in his ear.
“Relax—it’s me, Zetsu.”
Nagato’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t dare move, locked as he was in an intense battle with the Hokage.
Zetsu seemed to understand.
“Don’t resist. I’m here to help.”
There was no time for questions. Nagato had to trust him.
“I’ll transfer chakra to you—just hold him off.”
Zetsu, ever cautious, wouldn’t dare approach Toshiro directly. But using White Zetsu remotely? That, he could risk.
With Obito proving himself useless again, this was the final gamble: empower Nagato and pray he could hold the line.
Zetsu wasn’t hoping to defeat Toshiro anymore. At this point, he just needed Nagato to survive.
Toshiro, sensing the surge in power, narrowed his eyes.
“A little chakra boost, is it?” he muttered. “How quaint.”
White Zetsu’s presence wasn’t particularly concerning. Annoying, yes. Dangerous? Not really.
It might delay the inevitable—but only slightly.
“So, you want to raise the stakes, huh?”
The great sword wielded by Susanoo dissolved into glowing fragments, vanishing into the air.
Toshiro’s hands moved into a blur of signs.
“Very well.”
He exhaled, steady and calm.
“Wood Release: Wood Dragon Jutsu.”
Comments
Andre Wiranto
Toshiro is too relax and play around hope it is not gonna bite him the ass in the future
