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[NTU] [ARC-22] Chapter : 300
🕑 Added 2025-04-21 09:35:07 +0000 UTCThe Border of the Land of Iron.
Towering trees stood sentinel, cloaked in silver.
Cold rain and drifting snow had armored them in a thick, icy shell, their branches drooping under the weight, yet resolute in the harsh winter wind.
Silent, enduring, ancient.
Suddenly, a series of deep, distant rumbles shattered the stillness of the frozen forest.
Toshiro narrowed his eyes, observing the source of the disturbance.
"Summoned beasts from the Animal Path?"
Massive forms emerged through the mist—towering dogs, rhinos, a monstrous centipede, and an armored crab. It was a menagerie of destruction, brought forth by the Six Paths of Pain.
They hadn’t wasted a moment.
As soon as he touched down, they came for him.
Impatient much?
Tendō stepped forward, expression cold and unreadable, his voice like frost.
"Fifth Hokage. Your existence stands in the way of peace."
"For that… you must die."
Toshiro raised an eyebrow, his tone relaxed, even amused.
"Die?"
He shook his head with a smirk.
"The graves of those who’ve tried to kill me are already covered in weeds."
His gaze swept the battlefield, calm and calculating.
"If I’m not mistaken, you’re from the Land of Rain—members of the Akatsuki, correct?"
"And if that’s true… then this whole thing probably has something to do with that idiot, Jiraiya."
The name landed like a stone.
Tendō faltered, only for a moment, but the flicker of memory in his eyes was clear.
Jiraiya-sensei. A past long buried, but not forgotten.
"If peace is what you’re after, then why attack us?"
Itachi’s voice cut through the cold, calm but firm.
"We came to the Land of Iron to establish peace across the ninja world."
"Your aggression risks undoing everything—the fragile agreement formed by the major nations could fall apart because of this."
"The hope we've kindled... will vanish like mist."
Though Itachi understood peace couldn't be won with words alone, the treaty Toshiro was working on was a rare step forward. Fragile, yes—but real.
Tendō’s reply came with a scoff.
"Peace?"
"That agreement only serves your great nations. For the small countries like ours..."
"It means nothing."
Nagato’s voice carried the weight of scars unseen. He had grown up in the war-torn Land of Rain, where powerful shinobi from major nations trampled the weak beneath their feet.
Peace? That was just another lie told by those in power.
It was carved into his very bones: Never trust the great nations.
"That’s enough, Itachi," Toshiro said coolly, sensing his companion’s desire to argue further.
"This one’s just a puppet. If you want answers, talk to the real one behind the strings."
"A puppet…?"
Itachi’s eyes narrowed. He had sensed something off about these “people,” but hadn’t imagined they were not even human.
"Fine," Toshiro said, drawing his weapon as his voice hardened.
"Let me deal with them."
"Take Yamato and search in that direction. If you find anything, signal immediately."
With the Six Paths of Pain on the move, Toshiro knew the real battle wouldn’t begin until they found Nagato’s true body. He didn’t know the exact location—but he could feel the general direction.
A sudden flicker of emotion flashed in Nagato's Rinnegan.
He knows?
The realization struck hard.
He figured it out… after just one encounter?
And worse, the direction Toshiro indicated was dangerously close to where Nagato was currently hiding.
Before Toshiro could act, a sharp sound echoed—
Bang. Bang. Bang!
Pain unleashed a wave of summoned beasts, charging straight at Toshiro and his team.
"Go! But don’t engage recklessly if you find him," Toshiro warned Itachi. "He’s no ordinary shinobi."
He turned to face the oncoming threat.
"Think you can get past me? Keep dreaming."
Two of the Six Paths attempted to break formation, circling around Toshiro to target Yamato and Itachi directly.
But suddenly, glowing chains burst from the earth, blocking their path and lashing out at the summoned beasts. Most of them were manageable—except for that damn split dog. That thing was going to need more attention.
Tendō narrowed his eyes.
"Universal Pull—"
He didn’t get the chance to finish the technique.
A blinding streak of white light—faster than lightning—shot toward him. A Kusanagi blade, glowing with lethal precision.
"Persistent, aren’t you?" Tendō muttered.
It would have been simple if it were just one sword. But mid-flight, the blade split—twelve swords in total, each one homing in on a different Pain.
Having already experienced the bite of the Kusanagi, they weren’t about to take chances.
"Shinra Tensei!"
Tendō’s repulsive force sent the blades flying. But as the dust settled, he spotted something that made his heart sink.
More Konoha ninja?!
His eyes shot upward.
"Deidara…"
Hovering above, motionless.
Could it be… caught in the enemy’s genjutsu?
Tendō reached for the ring on Deidara’s hand to communicate—but the chakra link was fuzzy, distorted.
This isn’t good.
Down below, Toshiro ceased manipulating the Adamantine chains and turned his head slightly.
His sharp senses prickled—two significant chakra signatures were nearby. Skilled ones. And one of them… felt familiar.
"You’ve got quite the crowd," he muttered.
As if on cue, a rich, velvety voice called out from behind a snow-laced fir tree.
A man stepped into view. Short crimson hair, elegant features, calm, piercing eyes. His red-cloud Akatsuki cloak fluttered lightly in the wind.
"Well, well... the genius of the Sand Village. Sasori of the Red Sand," Toshiro said, eyebrows raised slightly.
It wasn’t his presence that surprised him—but how striking the man looked. His demeanor. His poised stance. The pale, slender hands folded before him like a sculptor admiring his next project.
"Leader," Sasori’s eyes gleamed as he locked onto Toshiro.
"Leave this one to me. I want his body for myself."
There was no malice—just an intense hunger, the kind an artist has for a masterpiece. His gaze ran up and down Toshiro’s form like he was examining a priceless sculpture.
Possessive. Obsessed.
Toshiro stiffened, a chill running down his spine.
Ugh.
Every damn Akatsuki member is some kind of weirdo.
He knew Sasori only saw him as material—a potential puppet—but it didn’t make the staring any less uncomfortable.
Sorry, but I’m not into guys.
He shivered slightly, trying to shake off the unease.
But before he could say anything else, his attention shifted.
From atop a nearby tree, a familiar presence made itself known.
A tall, slender figure descended slowly through the snow. Toshiro’s eyes lingered on her face, then her robe—the unmistakable Akatsuki uniform draped loosely around her.
"Well, well… been a while, hasn’t it, Pakura?"
The air changed.
"Didn’t expect to see you here. And it seems… we’re on opposite sides this time."
He kept his tone casual, but inwardly, old memories stirred—memories wrapped in silk and shadows. Even beneath the robe, he knew exactly what kind of danger lay hidden. He'd once been close enough to feel it—intimately.
Even now, with Pain and Sasori nearby, his thoughts momentarily drifted.
That night… was unforgettable.
"You’ll provide cover," Tendo said quickly, pushing the memories aside, eyes sharpening with resolve.
There was no room for sentimentality now.
"I'll let you have his body later," Tendō said calmly. "But watch out for his genjutsu. It seems Deidara’s already been caught in one."
Sasori gave a curt nod, but Tendō's attention had already shifted to Pakura.
It didn’t surprise him that Toshiro and Pakura had history. As a member of Akatsuki, he made it a point to learn about his allies—and their enemies.
"Pakura, go after his guards," he ordered.
Despite having Konan nearby, Tendō wasn't about to underestimate Itachi and Yamato. Extra insurance never hurts.
"Understood."
Pakura cast one last, lingering look at Toshiro before disappearing into the snowy forest, following the faint trail left behind by Itachi and Yamato.
“Tch… this woman.”
Not even a greeting.
She’d come here with Nagato to help kill him, and she couldn’t even bother to say a word? Toshiro narrowed his eyes as he watched her vanish into the distance.
The loose Akatsuki cloak concealed the silhouette he once knew too well. But now wasn’t the time for nostalgia or regrets.
He turned back to the threat at hand.
"So Deidara really was caught in an illusion," he muttered, catching Tendō’s earlier warning.
"Figures… he always struck me as the type to die early."
Sasori, now more cautious, no longer let his gaze linger on Toshiro with that same obsessive hunger. Instead, he let out a cold laugh and summoned Hiruko, his battle puppet.
With a swift leap, he vanished into it—armor sliding into place with mechanical precision.
Sasori wasn't some cocky kid like Deidara.
He had a healthy respect for the Uchiha name, and even if he coveted Toshiro’s body, he wasn’t going to rush in recklessly.
Kakaka—!
The great puppet creaked and groaned as it opened its jaws, spitting out a black scroll.
On the other side of the clearing, the Six Paths of Pain silently repositioned themselves—closing in, every movement sharp, calculated. Ready to strike.
Toshiro eyed the ring of puppets forming around Hiruko.
"Ten puppets…? Not even the Third Kazekage?”
He exhaled slowly, annoyed.
So Sasori hadn’t developed his "Hundred Puppet Technique" yet. And instead, he was using basic combat puppets against a Hokage?
"That’s a bit insulting."
Inside Hiruko, Sasori stiffened.
"You... you know about the Third Kazekage?"
That mission had been executed in total secrecy. No witnesses. No loose ends.
How could this guy know that?
Toshiro smirked.
"I know more than you'd like."
His gaze flicked toward Tendō, eyes narrowing with purpose.
A sudden burst of white smoke surrounded him—when it cleared, he was holding the Uchiha Gunbai, its surface gleaming in the cold light.
"If I'm going to fight puppet masters..."
"...then I’ll fight like one."
