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[NTU] [ARC-22] Chapter : 296
🕑 Added 2025-04-17 10:22:35 +0000 UTCDeidara’s frenzied shouts echoed across the sky, but Toshiro barely acknowledged them. His eyes weren’t on his enemy—they were locked on the sky above.
There, descending fast like a harbinger of destruction, was a massive white doll-shaped explosive, hurtling straight toward him and Yamawashi.
“So, you noticed it… but it’s too late!” Deidara’s voice rang with manic delight. “Even if you’ve spotted it, the power of C3.18 will reduce you to dust!”
“When it detonates, the sky will bloom with the most glorious fireworks. The world will bear witness to the brilliance of my art!”
As it turned out, the Deidara that had been chasing after them wasn’t the real one at all—it was a cleverly crafted clone. The true Deidara was soaring high above, having released his prized explosive from the heavens.
“Hokage-sama…” Itachi muttered, eyes narrowing. “We can’t dodge this.”
His voice was calm, but the grimness in his tone was unmistakable.
The whole setup had been a trap. The clay birds chasing them from behind were never meant to destroy—they were designed to corral Yamawashi, forcing it to fly within a narrow corridor.
A deadly lane where escape was nearly impossible.
And now, the real strike—the massive C3 bomb—was about to come crashing down right on top of them.
It was a simple strategy, but devastatingly effective. A classic Deidara ambush.
“It’s fine… They’re nothing but duds.”
Toshiro smirked, unimpressed by the supposedly fearsome explosive puppet looming overhead—the same one that had once given even the Sand Village a hard time. Nor was he fazed by the two-winged clay birds closing in behind them.
So, this guy’s repertoire wasn’t just mindless self-destruction after all.
Raising a hand with casual confidence, Toshiro gave a flick of his wrist.
A sharp crackle echoed in the air.
In the next moment, a flurry of blazing white senbon—crackling with lightning—burst forth, slicing through the sky. They rained down with surgical precision toward both the puppet above and the clay birds at their rear.
“You…!”
Deidara’s eyes widened in alarm as he recognized the nature of the incoming attack. The moment Toshiro uttered the word 'duds' something inside him snapped.
“You dare call my art a dud?!”
Fury bubbling beneath the surface, Deidara barked a command to his creations—but something was off.
Despite his efforts, the birds faltered, spiraling out of control. The massive sky-bound puppet didn’t detonate as intended. Instead, they fell, disabled and inert.
Deidara's face twitched. Something wasn’t right.
“My art is not a failure!” he roared. “You’ll see—I’ll show you what true art really is!”
Though just a clone, Deidara’s double retained every ounce of the original’s explosive passion for his craft. His pride wounded, he reached into the pouch at his waist and pulled out another clump of white clay—this time, he bit into it with violent determination.
“Oh, come on…” Toshiro sighed, clearly exasperated. “Does he always default to self-destruction? It’s exhausting.”
He hadn't even expected the guy to take the insult so personally—it was just some offhand sarcasm. But apparently, even clones could be overly dramatic.
“…Also, the distance is a little far,” he muttered, narrowing his eyes at the threat still hurtling toward them.
Toshiro narrowed his eyes, clearly displeased, as he watched Deidara—hovering roughly four to five hundred meters away—preparing yet another self-destruction.
Chidori Senbon wasn’t a miracle cure. Toshiro knew that if Deidara truly intended to blow himself up, he’d have layered his defenses beforehand.
At this range, the clone could easily explode near Yamawashi, turning the skies into a deadly trap.
Swish!
Without hesitation, Toshiro reached for the Kusanagi sword strapped at his waist—a weapon that had served more as decoration until now. In one swift motion, the blade surged forward, transforming into a streak of white-hot lightning, crackling as it streaked toward Deidara.
“Hah! You think I can’t dodge something that obvious?” Deidara scoffed, breaking into laughter.
This was nothing—telegraphed, linear, predictable.
Gulp.
As he laughed, the clay in his mouth—already kneaded and infused with chakra—was swallowed in one go. Then, with a flick of his wrist, Deidara tossed a two-winged clay bird toward the incoming sword.
He grinned.
All he had to do now was whisper the trigger word. The bird would detonate on impact and take out the sword. After that, it was just a matter of syncing with his main body, closing the distance, and blowing the entire area to ashes.
As for the risk to himself? Minimal. He wasn’t like the disposable explosives he crafted—unless he took a direct hit from lightning-style jutsu, he’d be fine.
“This range is perfect…”
But just as he opened his mouth to issue the detonation command, his pupils contracted.
A blinding flash of lightning streaked across his vision—a spear of light cutting through the sky with alarming speed.
And it was getting closer.
Though it had begun to lose power slightly after crossing nearly three hundred meters, the intensity was still enough to trigger a flicker of doubt in Deidara’s mind.
That bolt of lightning struck the airborne Kusanagi sword just as it began to fizzle out—its energy nearly spent.
But the moment the lightning touched the blade, it was as if it had been jolted back to life—like a warrior reinvigorated with a surge of adrenaline. The sword flared with brilliant blue light, surging forward with renewed force, slicing through the air straight toward Deidara.
“He’s using… the sword as a lightning conductor to extend the range…”
Deidara didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence.
Before the realization could fully form, the lightning engulfed him.
With a crackle and flash, his body stiffened, and in the blink of an eye, he was reduced to nothing more than a lifeless, chalky-white clay sculpture—his clone defeated in an instant.
Swish!
With the clone obliterated, the Kusanagi sword danced in the air like a bird in flight, spinning gracefully before streaking back toward its master. It shimmered with an electric glow as it returned to Toshiro’s outstretched hand.
“Orochimaru really knows how to craft a masterpiece.”
Toshiro casually ran his fingers along the hilt, admiring the weapon. It might not always be his go-to in battle, but when it counted—it delivered. And, honestly, it was just fun to wield.
He hadn’t forgotten one of its most remarkable traits: the Kusanagi wasn’t merely a sharp blade. It was a tool of precision, able to be guided remotely by thought alone.
And for Toshiro—an Uchiha with the Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan—his mental strength was nothing short of elite, on par with Orochimaru himself.
To say there was a massive difference would be a stretch—but it was undeniable: Toshiro’s mental power had undergone a significant evolution, far surpassing that of his opponent.
This newfound strength gave the Kusanagi sword an entirely different character in his hands.
Especially with his heightened control over yin chakra, wielding the blade felt almost... divine—like the legendary sword immortals of ancient tales.
He couldn’t yet decapitate enemies from thousands of meters away in the blink of an eye, but within a kilometer or two? That was well within his reach.
Okay, it wasn’t quite flying sword level...
But wait...
With the help of the Light-Weight and Heavy-Weight Rock jutsu, maybe it was possible?
In his mind, he conjured a bold image: himself dressed in ornate robes, Hokage hat blowing in the wind, standing tall atop a gleaming Kusanagi sword as it soared through the sky. If the speed wasn’t enough, he could always pull out the gunbai to give it an extra boost...
He chuckled softly and shook his head, brushing away the fantastical thought.
Lifting his gaze to the horizon, Toshiro’s eyes flicked upward toward the drifting clouds, then slowly back down to the terrain below.
"Hah… he really is the Hokage."
High above, hidden in the cover of the clouds, Deidara let out a slow, heavy breath.
Among the Akatsuki, he was known for his speed—one of the fastest by far. And yet, after a single brief exchange, the Hokage had already pinpointed the flaw in his technique.
Even now, just watching from a distance, Deidara felt the weight of pressure settle in his chest. It was as if he were staring down an immovable mountain... or a storm waiting to break.
He grimaced.
'This guy… might actually be scarier than the old man.'
“Tch... Hokage or not, calling my art a dud? He’s asking for trouble.”
Deidara’s voice crackled with annoyance as he launched his assault toward Toshiro from the skies above a distant mountaintop.
Meanwhile, deep within a hollowed tree trunk, hidden from view, Nagato narrowed his eyes. The moment Toshiro appeared on the battlefield, he didn’t hesitate. Forming a rapid sequence of hand seals, he activated a summoning jutsu.
“Summoning Jutsu”
But for caution's sake, he didn’t summon all Six Paths at once.
Only one appeared—the Animal Path.
Stealthily, it crept into the cloaked barrier Nagato had prepared ahead of time. Once inside the seal’s protective field, it activated another summoning technique—this time calling forth the full force of the Six Paths of Pain.
Among them, a thin figure with black piercings adorning his head and face—Yahiko, the Deva Path—tilted his chin skyward.
He watched Deidara’s flamboyant aerial maneuvering with calm detachment.
“Deidara… still too young.”
Though surprised that Toshiro had already seen through Deidara’s trap, Yahiko wasn’t particularly concerned.
“No matter. I’ll handle this personally.”
Despite his shortcomings, Deidara’s abilities were valuable to the organization. Letting him die here would be a waste.
Just as Yahiko prepared to move, a strange breeze stirred the air within the sealed barrier. The hem of his iconic Akatsuki cloak fluttered gently as his chakra surged. Slowly, deliberately, he began to ascend into the sky.
But this wasn’t flight in the traditional sense.
This was gravity manipulation—the Deva Path’s unique gift. He didn’t soar; he simply rose, The movement was slow, almost unnatural.
“Only Nagato could’ve created something like this…”
Toshiro, far below, instantly sensed the surge of chakra.
He no longer spared a glance at Deidara, whose theatrics were now irrelevant. His eyes locked onto the descending presence of Yahiko.
“And where there's Yahiko... Nagato can't be far.”
His gaze sharpened.
“Obito and Zetsu must’ve had a hand in this too.”
Toshiro rolled his neck, vertebrae cracking audibly with each tilt.
The air around him crackled in kind.
“If Yahiko’s making an entrance, that means this time they’re serious.”
He wasn’t wrong. Between Yahiko’s sudden appearance, Deidara’s relentless attacks from above, and the hidden presence of Nagato himself, it was clear:
They weren’t here for a simple skirmish.
They had come for war.
