Chapter 9: The Final Middle Finger, Exiled to Another Space
The battle between Yuto and the two legends had shaken the entire shinobi world to its core.
Terrifying chakra.
Endless jutsu.
Strength so overwhelming that with a mere gesture, the very land itself was reshaped.
All of this shattered the understanding of what shinobi power truly meant. Everyone knew that Senju Hashirama, Uchiha Madara, and Yuto were terrifying—but how terrifying? Few had ever grasped the scale.
Now, after a battle that had raged on for three full days, the truth was undeniable.
Konoha, Kirigakure, Sunagakure, Kumogakure, Iwagakure—across all five great villages, countless elites hid in the shadows, watching from afar.
Even with their sharp eyes, they could only glimpse blurred silhouettes twisting at the heart of the battlefield.
It wasn't that they did not wish to approach—it was that if they dared to draw near, even the stray aftershocks would have slaughtered them a thousand times over. This was a realm of power they could not even set foot in.
Among the Five Great Villages, only Konoha and Kirigakure bore faces heavy with complicated emotion. The others wore calm expressions.
Whoever won or lost, it mattered little to them. Their role was simply to accept the result.
To resist? Any thought of that was nothing but a path to annihilation.
Boom! Boom!
The rumbling still echoed from the battlefield, though the deafening crashes had grown far weaker than at the start.
Then it came—a roar of fury that tore through the skies. Yet it did not last long; it was silenced abruptly.
At the same moment, the explosions and rumbling at the battlefield's center ceased entirely.
Every watcher stiffened, hearts tightening as a single thought rose in unison: It's over.
From the hidden ranks of Kirigakure, despair spread like plague. They knew that voice all too well—it had been Lord Yuto, their Mizukage.
The only words they carried back were these: Hide. Wait for Lord Yuto's return.
And so the message spread swiftly through the ranks of Kirigakure's shinobi.
At the center of the battlefield—
Uchiha Madara and Senju Hashirama could only be described as wretched.
Their clothes were nothing more than tatters clinging to their bodies, barely enough to cover what mattered.
Their flesh was carved with countless wounds, blood flowing freely until they seemed to stand in a pool of their own making.
And opposite them stood Yuto.
He remained upright, back still straight, but his life force had almost completely vanished.
With his last remaining hand, he raised his arm—
And extended his middle finger toward Hashirama and Madara.
"That guy… even at the moment of death, he still mocks the two of us?"
Hashirama wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, his face carrying a bitter smile.
"To have such a man as our opponent… it's truly exhilarating. If he had prepared properly, instead of recklessly devouring the Three-Tails like this, who knows who would have won in the end."
Madara's eyes upon Yuto were filled with both regret and relief.
For someone so proud, before Yuto he could feel no pride at all.
Remembering Yuto's last desperate counterattack, both Hashirama and Madara felt a chill rise unbidden in their hearts.
Had they not both reserved their final trump cards, they might well have been dragged into death with him.
"It's over, Hashirama. Before he revives, use the Uzumaki clan's sealing techniques."
Madara pressed a hand to his chest, his voice heavy.
Hashirama nodded. He pressed a palm to the ground, pouring what little chakra remained to him. A coffin formed entirely from Wood Release rose up, enclosing Yuto within.
Biting his finger, Hashirama slammed his hand to the earth, summoning a scroll nearly as tall as a man. He unfurled it with a snap toward the coffin.
From the scroll, countless black patterns and mysterious sigils slithered forth like living things, imprinting themselves across the wooden coffin's surface.
Only when the work was complete did Hashirama exhale slowly, collapsing onto the ground without care for his image.
Even so, unease lingered in Madara's eyes. He swiftly formed hand seals, and with a deep hum the earth churned.
Floods of mud and sand engulfed the coffin, burying it completely. Then Madara spewed flame after flame, each time hardening the mass further.
Dozens of times he repeated this, until before them stood a colossal block of earth, hardened beyond steel. Only then did Madara stop.
"Hashirama, where will you place Yuto's body?" Madara asked, his brow furrowed, voice serious.
"Exile it to another space. There is nowhere safer, and there it will remain silent."
Hashirama's lips twitched as he regarded the massive lump of earth, nearly a hundred meters across.
Refined dozens of times by Madara, it was harder than iron.
Even had Yuto not been sealed within, escaping from its depths would have been nearly impossible.
And with no chakra left in the mass, there was nothing for Yuto to absorb, no energy to fuel him even if he stirred again.
As Hashirama's words fell, the mountainous mass vanished with a bang, dissolving into white mist—banished to another space.
Year 1 before Konoha's founding:
The three-day-long battle of the Three Great Ones finally ended. The First Mizukage, Yuto, fell, and the era of Konoha truly began.
Year 3 of Konoha:
The Valley of the End. Hashirama and Madara clashed. Madara fell in defeat. Soon after returning, Hashirama passed away.
With the death of the last of the Three Great Ones, the shinobi world, long suppressed, began to show signs of the storm to come.
But what followed… no longer had anything to do with Yuto.
(End of Chapter)