Chapter 83: The Impure Resurrection
Atop the watchtower, encased within the searing heat of the double-layered barrier, Orochimaru and the Third Hokage stood poised for battle.
Their powerful auras clashed, a silent, invisible war of pressure that filled the confined space with the promise of a fierce, dragon-and-tiger struggle. Orochimaru's eyes were cold stars, his gaze a sharp knife of pure hatred aimed at his former teacher, the killing intent within him condensed to its absolute peak.
The Third Hokage met that gaze with the steadiness of a man tempered by decades of war and peace. Though he knew he was in a desperate situation with little chance of survival, his resolve did not waver. He stood fearless in the face of mortal danger.
Swish!
The two figures shot forward, a blur of motion as they closed the distance, each seeking to gain the slightest advantage to launch their ninjutsu first.
Their hands became a frenzy of movement, weaving through hand seals with a speed that defied the eye. A dazzling array of techniques was being prepared in seconds.
The Third Hokage, however, began with a classic. His hands, which had been behind his back, flashed forward, a single shuriken held in his palm. He hurled it forward, and as it flew, his hands clasped together.
"Shuriken Shadow Clone Technique!"
In an instant, the single shuriken multiplied into thousands, a dense, overwhelming storm of metal that filled the air. It was like a torrential downpour of pear blossoms, magnificent and unstoppable, aimed to shred Orochimaru where he stood.
Though old, the Third's power was not to be underestimated. Even now, he stood at the pinnacle of the shinobi world, and each of his techniques carried a weight that ordinary ninja could scarcely comprehend.
"Hmph. Still relying on these parlor tricks?" Orochimaru sneered, his own hands freezing on the final seal of a far more sinister technique. "But… thinking this can kill me is pure madness!"
"Summoning: Impure World Reincarnation!"
BOOM!
A heavy, ancient coffin, marked by the vicissitudes of time, erupted from the floor of the watchtower. A single, large character was inscribed on its front: "One."
The moment he saw it, the Third Hokage's steadfast composure cracked. A flicker of pure dread crossed his face.
"This is… bad! He's using the dead as his shield… and these souls are…!"
The Third's pupils constricted to pinpricks. He knew exactly who was inside that coffin, and the thought of their power being unleashed upon the world again was a nightmare made real.
BOOM!
A second coffin appeared beside the first, this one marked with the character "Two."
The Third Hokage's heart plummeted.
BOOM!
As a third coffin began to materialize, he acted with desperate speed.
"No! I must stop the third one, no matter what!"
His hands slammed together again. The storm of shuriken shadows shifted direction, concentrating their fury on the space where the third coffin was forming. The relentless barrage of metal struck the emerging wood, splintering it and halting the summoning before it could be completed.
But even this small victory brought no relief. The Third Hokage's face only grew more grim, his expression heavy with the weight of what was to come.
Creeeak.
The doors of the first two coffins swung open on their own. From the darkness within, two figures rose. Their eyes opened, dull and vacant, as they stepped out into the light.
The first had long black hair framing a strong, dignified face. He carried an air of quiet, natural authority, the kind that came from being a pillar of the world.
The second had stark white hair and a powerful build, his presence sharp and commanding. Though his face was marred by cracks, an aura of domineering majesty clung to him.
The First Hokage, Hashirama Senju.
The Second Hokage, Tobirama Senju.
"It has been a long time, Sarutobi," Hashirama said, his voice a hollow echo.
"So, it's you, Sarutobi," Tobirama added, his tone flat. "You have grown old."
"To meet you two in this manner… it is the greatest shame of my life," the Third Hokage said, his voice thick with regret and respect. He looked upon his predecessors with unwavering reverence, remembering the legends they were.
"It is the Impure World Reincarnation," Tobirama observed, his reanimated mind analyzing the situation. "The one who summoned us with this forbidden technique… that young man. Impressive."
He knew better than anyone the complexity and cost of the jutsu he had created.
"In that case, Sarutobi," Hashirama said, his voice filled with a profound and helpless sorrow, "it seems we must fight you."
"Enough of this tedious reminiscing!" Orochimaru interrupted, his voice dripping with disgust. "Do you understand the sense of accomplishment, the pure joy, of turning a respected teacher of the past into your puppet? To make you understand this joy… that is why I prepared this scene for you, Sarutobi."
A mad ecstasy shone in Orochimaru's eyes as he watched the Third Hokage, eagerly anticipating the brutal spectacle. He produced two talisman-covered kunai from his sleeve, preparing to embed them into the skulls of the two Hokage to cement his control.
But just as he moved to do so, the eyes of the First and Second Hokage—eyes that should have been devoid of all independent will—involuntarily flicked to a vacant corner of the Four Violet Flames Formation.
It was the same spot where a subtle fluctuation had occurred moments before.
"To think… such a powerful presence exists here," Hashirama murmured, his dead voice holding a trace of newfound tension.
"It seems Konoha's fate was inevitable today, regardless of our actions," Tobirama stated, his analytical gaze seeing a threat that transcended the current conflict.
For in the spot they looked, a figure now stood.
He was dressed in pristine white, elegant and noble, with the natural bearing of a king. A sharp and gorgeous blade hung at his waist. It was Aizen Sōsuke.
Not only was he not dead, but he stood within the impregnable barrier, a silent spectator to the clash of Hokage.
Neither Orochimaru's sharp senses nor the Third Hokage's vast experience had detected his arrival.
It was all the work of Kyōka Suigetsu.
From the moment he had released his Shikai, anyone who had seen it had fallen under his Complete Hypnosis. Their five senses were his to control, and he had chosen to make himself a ghost, unseen and unheard.
Only the two former Hokage, masters of perception and creators of countless jutsu themselves, sensed the truth. They saw the puppet master standing in the shadows, watching as the puppets danced on his stage.