Chapter 58: Fire Thunder God
Kagenori's gambit had paid off. The electrified rain fell, forcing the Yugakure leader to react. "Fūton: Daitoppa!" The man blew out a powerful whirlwind, deflecting the majority of the shocking droplets. But a few still got through, spattering against his skin and robes, causing him to flinch from the stinging numbness and minor burns. It wasn't debilitating, but it was a distraction.
And Kagenori was already capitalizing on it.
"Katon: Ryūka no Jutsu!" A torrent of fire shaped itself into a roaring dragon that surged from his lips, hungry for its target.
The Village Head reacted swiftly, gathering chakra in his throat. "Suiton: Daibakufu no Jutsu!" He spat a massive ball of water to meet the fire dragon. The two elements collided with a furious hiss, instantly generating a thick, billowing cloak of steam that enveloped the entire area, reducing visibility to near zero.
Within the white-out, Kagenori formed the cross seal. "Kage Bunshin no Jutsu!" A single shadow clone poofed into existence beside him. In perfect unison, both Kagenori and his clone sheathed their ninjatos, their bodies lowering into a crouch, eyes sharp and focused on the blurred silhouette of their opponent through the mist.
"Thunder Breathing, First Form," they whispered in sync, their muscles coiling like springs. "Thunderclap and Flash... Double Flash!"
Two streaks of lightning tore through the vapor. It was like thunder ripping the sky in two. They crossed the distance in a breath, the thick fog doing nothing to slow their god-like speed. Two blades, one from the original, one from the clone, sliced through the air toward the Village Head's neck from different angles.
The Village Head's every hair stood on end. He had been anticipating this move, but experiencing it firsthand was a different kind of terror. His hands flew through a minimal set of seals. "Fūton: Shinkūgyoku!" He took a sharp breath and spat out several condensed orbs of wind, aiming at one of the incoming Kagenoris.
Pop.
The orbs struck true, but the Kagenori he hit vanished in a puff of smoke. A shadow clone.
In that same instant, the real Kagenori's blade was upon him. The Village Head twisted his body with desperate, instinctual speed, feeling a searing line of pain across his neck. He didn't stop to think; he threw himself backward, putting distance between them as his hand flew to his throat.
Kagenori frowned, his blade now held steady. "Tch. Fast reaction."
The Village Leader lowered his hand, his fingers coming away stained red. A thin, precise cut traced across his neck, bleeding sluggishly. It was shallow, a surface wound that had just missed the artery. A fraction of a second slower, and his head would have been separated from his shoulders. He looked at Kagenori, his expression now one of grim, horrified respect.
The boy had predicted everything. He'd known a Water counter would meet his Fire, using the resulting steam as a screen for his high-speed assault. He'd even used a shadow clone to ensure a kill. The tactical genius was chilling.
Kagenori, meanwhile, was reaching into his weapons pouch. His chakra reserves, already strained from the prolonged battle and the clone, were dipping dangerously low. He pulled out a handful of soldier pills and dry-swallowed them. The familiar, bitter taste did little to replenish him; he had taken some too recently for them to be fully effective. Only a trickle of chakra returned to his system.
He had considered it—using his Witness Points to restore his energy to full in an instant. The system was a tool, and this was a valid use. But he dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. The system provided a path to power, but true strength, the kind that was unshakable and truly his, had to be forged in moments like this. To rely on a crutch now would be to admit a weakness in his own spirit.
This was not yet a moment of despair. This was a test.
He looked at the bleeding Village Head, his gaze hardening into unyielding resolve. This man, an elite jonin and the leader of a hidden village, was the perfect whetstone. He would use this fight to sharpen himself, to push beyond his current limits.
The Village Head saw the shift in Kagenori's eyes, saw the fighting spirit ignite into something more profound. He wiped the blood on his leg, his own posture settling into a final, decisive stance. His experience screamed that the next exchange would be the boy's ultimate attack, and it would decide everything.
The intensity of their clash had drawn spectators from the wider battle. Among them was Minato Namikaze. Watching Kagenori move, strategize, and fight with such cold, brutal efficiency filled Minato with a cold dread. The gap between them seemed to be a chasm that was only widening. They had both been trained by Sannin. They had both come to this battlefield to gain experience. So why did Kagenori seem so far ahead? Was the difference between talent and genius really this vast?
It was the Village Head who moved first, breaking the standoff. "Fūton: Shinkūgyoku!" He fired the chakra accumulated in his mouth, spitting a rapid volley of wind bullets that shot toward Kagenori like a hail of senbon.
Kagenori didn't counter. He began to dodge, his movements a fluid dance of leaps and weaves, but his focus was internal. He was regulating his breathing, pulling air deep into his lungs in a specific, practiced rhythm. He was entering a state of Total Concentration. As he did, he closed his eyes, trusting his other senses, his Sharingan's ingrained perception.
The wind bullets grazed him, cutting small lines into his arms and legs, but he ignored the stinging pain. His entire being was focused on the flow of chakra and breath. This was a technique he had only theorized, only practiced in solitude with a high rate of failure. But now, in the crucible of combat, he felt it—the alignment was perfect. He could do it.
He slid his ninjato back into its sheath with a definitive click.
His eyes snapped open. In that instant, lightning did not just cloak him—it erupted from him in a wild, roaring vortex. The two tomoe in his Sharingan spun so fast they became red blurs.
He lowered his body, the pose reminiscent of his Thunderclap and Flash, but the aura was entirely different. The air itself grew heavy, charged with ozone and raw power.
The Village Head's eyes widened. This was different. This was something new. His hands, already forming seals in anticipation of the earlier move, faltered for a critical second. He began to move, preparing to evade, but a primal fear told him it was already too late. The sheer pressure emanating from the boy was overwhelming.
"Thunder Breathing," Kagenori's voice was low, a rumble of impending storm. "Seventh Form..."
He became a living bolt of divine punishment. He shot forward, but not in a straight line. The lightning around him twisted and morphed, taking the form of a coiling, roaring dragon of pure electricity. His path was unpredictable, a zig-zagging, impossible-to-track trajectory of pure destruction, tearing deep furrows in the earth as he moved.
"...Honoikazuchi."
Fire Thunder God.
The Village Head's pupils contracted to pinpricks. There was no dodging this. His only hope was to stop it. "Fūton: Shinkūgyoku!" He desperately spat his remaining high-pressure wind balls, aiming for the center of the lightning storm.
But the Fire Thunder God was not bound by a linear path. Though it seemed Kagenori was moving straight, the wind balls exploded harmlessly against the ground where he had been, his actual position shifting with every crackle of lightning.
The Village Head had one last card. As the thunder dragon was upon him, he gathered every ounce of his remaining chakra and spat one final, massive vacuum orb directly into its maw.
At the same moment, Kagenori's blade left its sheath.
A deafening explosion tore through the battlefield. A cloud of dust and superheated earth erupted, completely engulfing both combatants, hiding the final outcome from the eyes of every watching ninja, including a horrified and awestruck Minato.