Chapter 34: The August Life and the Final Judgment
The world had become a storm of gold and pink. A dozen golden Ceros, a symphony of divine destruction, hammered against the swirling sphere of Naruto's Kōtei no Hōi. The bridge, already broken, groaned and buckled under the sheer force of the repeated impacts, threatening to collapse entirely into the churning sea below. Inside the vortex of a billion blades, Naruto was a statue of perfect calm, all of his focus, all of his soul, pouring into the single point of light forming in his palm.
The sphere of petals began to thin, the blades dissolving as they fed their essence into the attack. Zommari saw his chance. "Your defense is failing, Kuchiki!" he boomed, the eyes of his halo glowing brighter. "This is the end!"
"You are correct," Naruto's fused voice replied, a deafening silence falling as the last of the petals vanished into his palm. The defensive sphere was gone. For a single, terrifying moment, he was completely exposed to the Cero bombardment.
But the attack was already complete.
Hovering in Naruto's hand was not a weapon. It was a single, perfect cherry blossom made of pure, white-pink light. It pulsed with a low, perfect hum, a note that seemed to vibrate at the very center of creation. It held the condensed, absolute power of a billion blades. The power of erasure.
"Ōgi: Senbonzakura Ikka Senjinka."
Zommari's golden eyes widened. He did not feel aggression from the beautiful, serene object. He felt finality. He felt an existential threat that could not be blocked, deflected, or overpowered. He knew, with the certainty of a zealot facing true divinity, that his only option was to strike not at the attack, but at the soul of the one who wielded it.
He abandoned his Cero bombardment. He opened his arms wide, a messianic figure prepared to deliver his final sermon. All eighteen eyes in his halo blazed with a light so intense it seemed to turn the very air golden. He would not try to control Naruto's body or weapon. He would seize his soul.
"Juicio Final."
It was not a beam. It was not a sound. It was a wave of pure, absolute will that erupted from him, a golden tsunami of subjugation that washed over the entire bridge. The very concept of resistance seemed to crumble before it. The steel beams groaned, not from physical pressure, but as if in submission.
The golden wave of absolute command struck Naruto head-on.
"You. Are. Mine."
The command was not a suggestion; it was an attempt to rewrite the laws of his existence. Naruto's form flickered violently. His mind was assaulted by Zommari's will, a force that sought to strip away his pride, his duty, his very name, and replace it all with a single, overriding truth: eternal servitude. For a horrifying instant, the wings on his back faltered, the light in his sakura-patterned eyes dimming.
But within the storm, the soul of Kuchiki Byakuya, a pride forged over a thousand years of noble tradition, roared in defiance.
My soul bows to no one.
Naruto's eyes blazed back to life, the cherry blossom pattern spinning with renewed intensity. He weathered the storm of will, his own pride the unbreakable anchor.
And as he did, he released his attack.
The single, perfect cherry blossom of light floated forward, serenely, almost lazily. It did not tear through the air; the air parted for it. It moved through Zommari's golden wave of will, not fighting it, but simply unmaking it as it passed.
Zommari, his entire being focused on the battle of souls, met the blossom's approach with his own divine presence, his will confident it could unmake this final, beautiful trick.
The blossom touched the center of his chest.
There was no sound. No scream. No explosion.
There was only a gentle, silent blooming of white-pink light.
Zommari's expression, once one of divine authority, froze into a mask of utter, blasphemous disbelief. The light spread from the point of contact, a beautiful, horrifying cancer of nothingness. His obsidian skin did not burn or bleed; it simply dissolved into particles of golden light and then into nothing at all.
The golden eyes in his halo began to fade one by one, like dying stars winking out of existence. The Cero of Sovereignty, the Divine Mandate, the All-Knowing Presence—all of it was simply... erased.
The last thing to vanish was his face, his mouth open in a silent protest against a power that did not conquer, but simply deleted.
Then, he was gone.
The battle was over. The oppressive golden light vanished, leaving only the calm, pink glow of Naruto's form.
And then, that too began to fade.
The victory was absolute. The price was, too.
The brilliant wings of light on Naruto's back trembled and then shattered like glass, dissolving into a fine, glittering dust. The white haori of spiritual energy evaporated, revealing the tattered and burned remains of his shinobi gear. The long, black hair receded, returning to its normal length. The cherry blossom pattern in his eyes flickered and died, leaving only Minato's pure, sky blue.
He was just Naruto again.
His body, a mortal vessel that had contained the unrestrained power of a transcendent soul, finally gave out. The burns from the Cero Oscuras, the internal damage from channeling an impossible amount of Reiryoku, the sheer strain of his final attack—it all came crashing down at once.
His eyes rolled back in his head, and he fell from the sky, a broken stone dropping into the sea.
He never hit the water.
A flash of movement, and Kakashi was there, appearing in mid-air to catch the unconscious form of his student. He landed softly on the broken bridge, holding the boy in his arms. He looked down at Naruto's face, peaceful now in oblivion, and saw the catastrophic toll the battle had taken. Deep burns marred his skin, and a trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth.
Kakashi looked up at the rising sun, which was finally breaking through the clouds, casting the first rays of a new dawn on the shattered bridge.
The battle was over. The price was absolute.