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Bee didn't chase after those hundreds of shinobi. Instead, he staggered back towards Raikage, his brown cloak flickering weakly before dissolving altogether. His shoulders dripped with sweat. His blades, usually whirling in rhythm, now dragged slightly when he sheathed them.
Raikage's eyes flicked toward him without slowing his fists. "How are your chakra reserves?"
Bee panted, then forced a crooked grin. "I'm down to forty percent, yo… need six hours, full rest, to get back on top, that's the best."
Raikage grunted. "Good. Then you go rest. I'll take ca—"
But his words cut short. Han had seen the opening. He drove forward, armored fist crashing into the Raikage's ribs. At the same time, Roshi... cloak bubbling and flaring... screamed, "I will murder you!" and swung a molten kick.
The double impact sent the Raikage tumbling across cracked earth, rolling through molten trenches. Dust and ash exploded into the air. For an instant, even the Iwa shinobi watching from the distance thought perhaps the Kage had finally been broken.
Then a shadow surged from the smoke.
The Raikage stood, brushing dust from his shoulder, his eyes glowing like burning coals. Lightning snapped louder around him. His lip curled into the faintest smirk.
"You little pups bark a lot. Do you know how hard I've had to hold back… not to kill you by mistake?"
--
And then, everything changed. The Raikage, who had fought defensively for twelve hours, now wanted try his new style he used against hiruzen. His stance lowered. Elbows tucked in. His steps became sharper, pivots precise.
Han frowned. This wasn't the reckless brawler he'd been trading blows with. This was… something else.
The Raikage blurred forward, lightning cloak flaring. Instead of a wild punch, his knee shot upward, cracking into Han's chin with the precision of a trained striker. Han's massive body lifted clean off the ground before slamming back down.
Roshi tried to counter with a molten sweep. The Raikage stepped inside, clinched his neck, and drove an elbow into his temple. Lava splattered uselessly against the lightning cloak. Roshi staggered. Another knee drove into his gut, folding him over.
This wasn't the Raikage's old style. This was Muay Thai... every strike condensed, sharpened, brutal. Elbows like blades, knees like hammers, clinches that broke ribs instead of grapples.
And he was smiling, faintly. In the middle of a battlefield, while perfecting an art.
Six Hours passed
The sky had shifted to dull gray by the time Bee returned, his chakra fully replenished. He flexed his shoulders, a grin returning to his face, his exhaustion gone.
"Raikage-sama," he called, his voice steady, "I'm back to full power!"
The Raikage stood at the center of a crater, his cloak still roaring, though his breath was slightly heavier now. Even he could not deny fatigue after thirteen relentless hours.
"Good," he rumbled. "I guess it's time. The Four-Tails is loud. Talks too much. You take him. Start."
Bee nodded. From his back, he unsealed four scrolls. With a puff of smoke, the legendary Rikudō Sennin's tools appeared.
Bashōsen, the Banana Palm Fan, gleaming with elemental fury.
Kōkinjō, the golden rope, shimmering faintly.
Shichiseiken, the seven-starred sword, its kanji faintly glowing.
Benihisago, the crimson gourd, humming with sealing power.
Bee's eight tails sprouted, each one gripping a weapon with eerie precision. Four tails balanced the tools. Four held his swords. His human hands grasped another two. It was a grotesque dance of steel and chakra.
--
Roshi, blood dripping from his lips, staggered upright. His cloak still flickered, but it was frayed, unstable. His chakra was nearly spent. But his rage hadn't dimmed.
Bee's grin widened. Perfect. One tail flicked. The Kōkinjō shot out, golden rope wrapping around Roshi's midsection with impossible speed. Another tail guided the Shichiseiken, its blade cut the soul, glowing kanji forming on the back of Shichiseiken.
The word appeared: MURDER.
His voice was hoarse, cracked from screaming. "I will murder you. I'll burn you alive, Raikage! You and your whole damned village!"
Roshi's eyes widened. His scream cut short as realization dawned. His own words had betrayed him.
"Benihisago," Bee muttered, voice grim for once.
The crimson gourd glowed. In an instant, Roshi's body twisted, his chakra sucked away, drawn screaming into the seal. His cloak collapsed, his roar fading into silence.
When it ended, the gourd sat silent. Heavy.
The battlefield froze. Iwa shinobi stared in disbelief as one of their jinchūriki... one of their strongest weapons... was gone in seconds, undone by his own fury.
Bee exhaled calmly. "One down."
--
Han stood rooted. His armor hissed from the heat of Roshi's last cloak. His breath rasped inside his mask.
He had planned to escape. He'd known their chakra reserves were nearly gone. He'd thought: if Roshi distracted the Raikage, he might slip away, regroup, live to fight again.
But Roshi was gone. Just… sealed, like nothing.
His fists clenched. He wanted to scream, to charge, to avenge. But part of him... the cold, calculating shinobi... knew. He would not win. Not against the Raikage, not against Bee with those tools.
Still, honor demanded he fight.
--
Han roared, his chakra cloak sputtering to life again, though faint. He charged, fists glowing with boiling chakra.
The Raikage met him head-on. This time, he did not hold back.
Their fists collided with the force which could shatter a small mountain. Han staggered back, coughing blood. Another elbow drove into his ribs... crack. A knee shattered his armor. A clinch dragged him down. Lightning surged with every strike.
It wasn't just Muay Thai anymore. It was Raikage's Muay Thai, perfected through pain. Every blow carried the precision of Kaien's art and the devastation of his lightning speed.
Han fell, rose, fell again. His mask cracked. His cloak sputtered. Finally, a final blow... a spinning elbow crashing into his jaw... sent him crashing into the earth, unmoving.
The battlefield went silent.
--
The Raikage stood tall, chest heaving. His cloak flickered but did not fade. Bee walked up beside him, the crimson gourd hanging heavy from his tail, the other tools slowly being resealed onto scrolls.
"Two jinchūriki," Bee said quietly. "Ten thousand shinobi. And we still stand. Nothin' stoppin' our way yo."
The Raikage looked out across the steam-filled wasteland. His eyes narrowed, not in triumph but in resolve. "This is war. And war takes. But Kumo does not bow. Not to Iwa. Not to anyone. I have avenged our fallen men..."
"I will perfect this style," he muttered to himself. "A way to strike harder. A way to carry this village further." His elbow twitched, a faint smile playing at his lips. Muay Thai will be reborn under his hands and our men shall train this taijutsu style.
Bee, sensing the thought, only grinned, his rhymes already forming. "Yo, Raikage, we stole the show. Two beasts down, time to let Iwa know."
As they were talking, the unconscious Han's finger twitched.
--
A/N: Roshi sealed but Han is not completely down.