Chapter 59: Hokage's Fall & A Choice
Naruto's arrival calmed the frantic worry in her eyes. "Are you alright, Naruto? Did you… defeat that thing?"
Naruto nodded, his expression serious. "Yeah. It's handled."
"Good," Sasuke breathed out, a tension leaving her shoulders before her expression clouded again.
Seeing her pallor, Naruto assumed it was the injuries. "Sasuke, how badly are you hurt? We need to get you back to Konoha." Without waiting for a reply, he scooped her up in his arms, ignoring any protest, and leaped into the trees, heading back toward the village at top speed.
Sasuke didn't fight him. She looped her arms around his neck, resting her cheek lightly against his spiky blond hair. His scent, familiar and uniquely his, filled her senses. A strange, profound sense of peace settled over her, a feeling she hadn't known since childhood—of being carried on her brother's back, safe and content.
Naruto, however, was wholly focused on the path ahead and the throbbing ache in his left arm. The Rasenshuriken… even with the Curse Mark's power, the recoil at point-blank range is too much. I have to develop the thrown version.
The village was a scene of controlled chaos. Rather than risk the hospital, Naruto headed straight for the finals arena, where the massive Four Violet Flames Barrier still glowed ominously.
Kakashi and the other Jonin were locked in a fierce, scattered battle. While the initial surprise had given the Sand-Sound alliance an advantage, Konoha's deep-rooted strength was showing. The shinobi, rallied by their commanders and fighting for their home, were pushing the invaders back. The real problems were Orochimaru's summoned giant snakes, which ordinary ninja couldn't handle.
But Naruto had that covered. As soon as he arrived, he formed the seals. Poof! Poof! Poof! Gamabunta, Gamaken, and another massive toad materialized in the village streets, their sheer size crushing buildings but also crushing the enemy's morale. They made quick work of the serpentine summons.
The tide had turned decisively.
Naruto carried Sasuke to the edge of the glowing purple barrier. Anko was there, staring with frantic helplessness at the scene within.
"Naruto! What are you doing here?" Anko asked, startled.
"Checking the situation." Naruto peered inside. The world within the barrier was a surreal landscape of towering trees and vast waters. He could make out flickering figures: the white-haired, red-robed form of Jiraiya, and the smaller, older figure of the Third Hokage. Seeing Jiraiya brought a flicker of relief, but it was short-lived.
They were being pushed to the absolute limit. The reanimated First and Second Hokage, even at a fraction of their true power, were immortal, endless-warfare engines. Combined with Orochimaru's own vicious assaults, even two Sannin-level fighters were barely holding on.
"The Third… he's tiring. He's an old man now," Anko whispered, her voice thick with helpless dread.
"We have to break this barrier," Naruto stated.
"Are you trying to die?!" Anko grabbed his arm, pulling him back. "That barrier can't be broken from the outside! Any attack just rebounds on the attacker!" She pointed to a charred, smoldering body not far away—grim proof.
Naruto knew she was right. He'd read about this. Even the Rasenshuriken likely couldn't breach it. Only something on the scale of a Tailed Beast Bomb might work.
But to stand by, watching his master and his mentor fight for their lives… it was torture.
"I have to try!" Ignoring the screaming pain in his left arm, he formed a shadow clone and activated the Curse Mark, the Rasengan beginning to form. But the moment he tried to push it further into the Rasenshuriken, a white-hot agony shot up his left arm, dissolving the chakra construct instantly.
This arm… it's worse than I thought. He was forced to watch, a spectator to a tragedy he knew too well.
Inside, Jiraiya was ensnared by the First's Wood Release. The First's killing blow descended. And in that moment, the Third Hokage's eyes filled with a serene, absolute resolve.
A tremendous pressure erupted from the old man's body. Simultaneously, the reanimated bodies of the First and Second crumbled to dust, their souls sealed away. Orochimaru convulsed in shock and pain. But in a final act of spite, Orochimaru's Kusanagi sword shot forward, piercing the Third's body.
Just as in the tale Naruto knew, the Sandaime sacrificed himself. But in his last, defiant act, he could only seal Orochimaru's arms, robbing him of his jutsu.
Before he fell, the Third looked at Jiraiya, a proud, tired smile on his face. "Jiraiya… to fight alongside you one last time… I am content. The village… is yours now."
Then, his fading gaze found Naruto's eyes through the glowing barrier. "And Jiraiya… Naruto is your student now. Train him… as the Sixth Hokage. He has the potential to surpass all who came before. As for the Fifth… that duty falls to you."
With his final will spoken, Sarutobi Hiruzen, the Third Hokage, passed with a smile, having given his life to protect his student and his village one final time.
Jiraiya's tough facade shattered; tears streamed down his face unchecked. This flawed, weary man had been the village's unwavering shield for decades.
As Orochimaru's agonized screams echoed and the Four Violet Flames Barrier dissolved, the remaining Sound Four rushed in to spirit their master away.
The survivors gathered, a somber circle around their fallen leader and the grieving Toad Sage.
"Old man…" Naruto knelt by the Third's body, seeing the peaceful expression. A deep, hollow sadness settled in his chest. This old man had believed in him, guided him, shielded him from the shadows. Without him…
"Naruto…" Sasuke's soft voice came from behind him.
The Third Hokage was gone. With his ancient body, he had sealed away legends and crippled a monster, guarding Konoha to his last breath.
The enemy retreated. The village, wounded but unbroken, began the long work of healing.
At sunset, as the village settled into an exhausted quiet, Naruto sat in the hospital, his left arm bandaged, Sasuke being treated in the next bed.
He was lost in thought. He had always seen himself as a traveler, an observer with one eye on a way back home. He'd maintained a degree of detachment from this world.
But the Third's death had shattered that illusion. He hadn't been able to watch dispassionately. The surge of protective fury he'd felt for the village… it was real. He'd lived here for over a decade. This was his home now. These people were his comrades.
Become stronger? For what? To go back?
He had to admit it now—he was inextricably bound to this world. If a gateway to his old life opened before him now, leading back to familiar streets and lost family… would he really step through it? Could he turn his back on the companions who had fought and bled beside him, on this village that was, for all its flaws, his own?