Chapter 88: The Shattered Windmill
Under the harsh glare of the sun, fresh petals of blood bloomed in the air, a fleeting, cruel beauty that marked the fall of a once-genius.
Aizen's blade, Kyōka Suigetsu, moved with an effortless grace. A massive, vertical wound split Orochimaru's body from shoulder to hip. The white of shattered bone was starkly visible for an instant before a torrent of blood, hot and vivid, gushed forth like a spring, instantly dyeing the pale stone of the watchtower a brutal crimson.
"Guh…!"
Orochimaru slumped forward, a final, weak mouthful of blood spilling from his lips. If Aizen's first strike from behind had been a severe wound, this second, contemptuous slash was a death sentence. It severed the last threads of vitality holding him together.
"Stop joking…! How could I… die in a place like this?!" Orochimaru rasped, his voice a raw, guttural thing of pure fury and disbelief. He clenched his fists so hard his nails drew blood from his own palms. His eyes burned with an absolute, searing hatred and unwillingness. His grand, meticulously planned destruction of Konoha was crumbling at the very moment of its triumph.
He had never dreamed his end would be so pathetic, so utterly meaningless.
"This… this kind of power…?" the Third Hokage gasped, even as he endured the soul-rending agony of the Dead Demon Consuming Seal. A storm of disbelief raged in his heart. At such close range, he had felt it—the terrifying, razor-sharp potency contained within Aizen's seemingly casual swings.
Just two simple, unadorned strokes of his sword had brought the legendary Orochimaru, a man he had fought to a standstill, to his knees, teetering on the brink of death. It was a level of efficiency and lethality that defied all shinobi logic.
Finally, the Third Hokage understood. "So that's it… My unease was correct all along. The source of the disturbance… it was you!"
A deep, profound regret flashed in his eyes. But the realization had come too late. He was already bound by the Shinigami's grasp, his life forfeit. He could no longer protect Konoha from the threat now standing before him.
"Heh. Only now do you see the truth? A pity, Third Hokage," Aizen said, his voice as smooth and cold as polished ice. "Even if you guess the beginning, you cannot foresee the end."
He cast a brief, disinterested glance at Orochimaru's twitching form on the ground before dismissing him entirely. One hand resting elegantly on the hilt of his Zanpakutō, he took calm, measured steps, his very presence radiating a noble and terrifying authority as he closed the distance to the dying Hokage.
The situation had turned completely. The atmosphere was thick with a bizarre and chilling tension.
The Four Violet Flames Formation was gone, shattered by his mere presence. The four Sound Ninja trembled, prostrate under the weight of his Reiatsu. Orochimaru, the architect of this chaos, was bleeding out, his fight gone.
Just as Orochimaru had prophesied, Konoha's decaying windmill had finally been set spinning by a destructive wind. But the hand that pushed it was not his. It was Aizen's.
With casual brutality, Aizen had shattered Orochimaru's ambition, letting the Sannin experience the ultimate despair of falling from the heights of his scheme into the abyss of failure.
Outside the Vanished Barrier
The village of Konoha was a canvas of chaos and smoke.
From a bird's-eye view, violent clashes erupted in every district. The flashes of ninjutsu lit up the streets, and the desperate cries of shinobi locked in combat filled the air, plunging the once-prosperous village into a morass of blood and fire.
"Lightning Style: Chidori!"
Kakashi's right hand was sheathed in a thousand shrieking birds. He became a blur of motion, piercing through a Suna shinobi in a burst of lightning and leaving the man crumpled on the ground. After a prolonged struggle, he had finally eliminated his opponent.
Nearby, Might Guy relied on his overwhelming taijutsu, a whirlwind of green that dispatched several enemy ninja with mighty, concussive blows.
But when the two elite jonin chanced to look toward the highest watchtower at Konoha's center, their faces hardened with disbelief.
"What… what is happening up there?!"
From their distance, they saw it clearly: the sudden appearance of Aizen Sōsuke, and his two effortless sword strokes that sent the legendary Orochimaru crashing down. The sight struck them with the force of a physical blow, leaving their minds reeling.
Who was Orochimaru? One of the Legendary Sannin, a former genius of Konoha, an S-rank rogue ninja whose name inspired fear across nations.
And yet, this titanic figure in their minds had been cut down by Aizen as if he were nothing more than brittle kindling. While it was true Aizen had struck from an unseen position, the sheer, effortless power displayed was enough to fill Kakashi and Guy with a sense of profound dread.
Across the village, other shinobi, Konoha and enemy alike, found their eyes drawn to the pinnacle of the watchtower. Their expressions were a complex mix of shock, confusion, and for the Konoha shinobi, a flicker of wild, misguided hope.
Aizen's "resurrection" brought a surge of relief to many. The impression he had cultivated over the past months was too deeply ingrained: low-key, humble, kind, with a handsome face that always bore a gentle, spring-like smile. He was the perfect genius, proficient in three chakra natures, the very pillar of Konoha's future, the embodiment of the Will of Fire.
From this distance, they could not perceive the chilling reality within the barrier. Based on the scene before them, they could only assume that Aizen had arrived in the nick of time to save the Third Hokage from the villainous Orochimaru. In their eyes, he was a hero.
Back on the Tower
"The look in your eyes… you intend to kill this old man and then betray Konoha?" the Third Hokage wheezed, his body failing but his spirit still burning brightly. Even at the end, he had to know. "As a member of this village, do you feel no shame?!"
"Why would I need to betray Konoha?" Aizen asked, now standing directly before the Third Hokage. He slowly raised Kyōka Suigetsu, the edge glinting in the sun. It was a simple, unadorned movement, yet it carried the finality of a world ending. "That is your illusion, Third Hokage."
His words fell like a judge's gavel, hammering into the Hokage's heart and shattering his last hope.
"What you perceive as a loyal member of Konoha… never existed from the very beginning."