"Seven-Tails Jinchūriki?"
Jinghang studied the winged figure hovering before him.
Early twenties. Silver hair cropped short. Takigakure headband gleaming in the sun. Purple combat gear with the sleeves ripped off—deliberate, showing off carved biceps. Tall. Lean muscle. Eyes that held a predator's gleam. Ninja blades strapped to both thighs.
Professional. Dangerous.
"What's your name, kid?"
Sharp. Confident.
"Mm." Jinghang nodded approvingly. "Not bad. Your Tailed Beast control is solid—you can actually fly."
It wasn't a joke. Seven-Tails was the only flying Bijū. The mark of a competent Jinchūriki? Whether they could hover like this—stable, controlled, like a dragonfly suspended in midair.
That took work.
"I've heard much about you, Kazekage-sama." Fū's voice was respectful. "They call you the strongest shinobi alive. Seeing you now... the reputation fits."
"Flattery." Jinghang waved it off. "Just rumors. You know how it is."
Fū's expression shifted.
"If it's just rumors—" His smile turned sharp. "—then maybe you shouldn't wear the title so proudly."
Jinghang's eyes narrowed.
Ah. There it is.
"Ambitious, aren't you?" His tone cooled. "Want to test that theory?"
Fū's grin widened.
"Insect Flame Orbs!"
His cheeks bulged. Hands cupped like a blowgun. And he spat—
Glowing spheres erupted from his mouth. Not one. Not five. Dozens, streaming toward Jinghang in a continuous barrage.
Jinghang's iron orbs snapped together, forming a barrier—
The spheres melted into the metal. Heat radiated outward. The iron glowed cherry-red, edges beginning to drip.
It was like Pakura's Scorch Release, but faster. More concentrated.
And Fū wasn't stopping. The orbs kept coming—rapid-fire, like a machine gun, each one searing through the air with that awful hissing sound.
Jinghang dissolved the barrier. No point holding a melting shield.
Instead, he moved.
The iron orbs scattered, reforming as platforms beneath his feet. He leaped, twisted, dodged—each sphere missing by inches as he danced through the sky.
"Iron Sand: Drizzle!"
Black needles erupted from his hands, thousands of them, raining toward Fū in a deadly counter-barrage.
Fū's wings blurred. He spun, dove, climbed—matching Jinghang's movements with insect-like agility.
They clashed in midair like fighter jets—circling, firing, neither giving ground.
Kid's got stamina, Jinghang thought, genuinely impressed. Takigakure's been hiding this one.
It was true. Fū was Taki's ace. Three years ago, he'd sparred with their top jōnin, Miyamoto, behind closed doors. Afterward, Miyamoto had publicly declared: "Fū's surpassed me. If the World Ninja Tournament returns, he'll place top three."
And watching him now? Jinghang believed it.
Ground Level - Command Position
Danzō's eye gleamed.
Jinghang's occupied.
The Kazekage's iron sand techniques had been a nightmare to counter. But now, stuck in an aerial duel with Fū, he couldn't interfere with the ground battle.
Advantage: ours.
"Lord Hokage!" Fugaku's voice cut through the chaos. "Wind-Cloud forces have breached the outer line! They're engaging our front ranks!"
"ALL FORCES, ADVANCE!" Danzō ripped off his white robe, revealing black combat gear beneath. A steel kunai appeared in his hand. "PUSH FORWARD! CRUSH THEM!"
He stepped toward the frontline—
"OLD MAN DANZŌ!"
Thunder cracked.
A blue blur slammed into the ground before him. The Third Raikage rose from the impact crater, lightning crackling across his body, grin savage.
Danzō raised his kunai—
A hand caught his shoulder.
"I'll handle him."
Hiruzen stood beside him, black robe billowing. The Ruyi Jingu Bang extended in his grip, already lengthening toward the Raikage.
For a moment—just a moment—something softened in Danzō's expression.
Then Hiruzen was gone, staff whistling through the air as he engaged the Raikage in a thunderous clash.
Both their Kage are tied up.
Danzō's tactical mind raced.
This is it. The opening.
"Amemiya!" He spun toward the Takikage. "Jinghang and the Raikage are neutralized! We move now—kill Ai first, then hunt their jōnin! Victory is ours!"
"Wind Release: Vacuum Blade!"
Danzō channeled chakra into his kunai. Wind coiled around the blade, extending it into a meter-long sword of compressed air.
"Not so fast, old man."
Danzō's instincts screamed. He twisted mid-step—
A massive hooked blade crashed into the sand where he'd been standing.
"Wind Release: Vacuum Sphere!"
Still airborne, Danzō fired back—compressed air bullets hammering toward the source of the attack.
CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.
They struck metal.
The puppet emerged from the dust cloud. Ten feet tall. Red spray-painted robes. Hooked blades for hands. Face carved into a demonic snarl.
"Sasori of the Red Sand." Danzō's voice was flat.
The puppet's jaw opened. Sasori's voice echoed from within, distorted and cold.
"Your opponent is me."
"Amemiya! Fugaku!" Danzō shouted. "I need—"
Fugaku was locked in combat with Gaojin, Sharingan blazing.
Amemiya faced a blonde kunoichi wreathed in blue flames—Yugito Nii, the Two-Tails Jinchūriki.
Everyone's engaged.
Panic flickered through Danzō's chest. He crushed it.
His eye found Jūri—Amemiya's assistant, standing uselessly at the command tent's edge.
"YOU!" Danzō pointed. "Find the Three-Tails Jinchūriki! Get her into this fight NOW!"
"Y-yes!" Jūri stumbled forward—
A bald figure stepped into his path.
Hōichi smiled, hands pressed together in prayer.
"Going to fetch the Three-Tails, are we?" His voice was serene. "Mind if I tag along?"
His teeth gleamed white in the desert sun.
[Author's Note: Is Seven-Tails the weakest Bijū? Discuss!]
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