"Truly the Uchiha heart—everyone can see it."
"You think you can be Hokage? You'll never get past the Senju line!"
"No matter how sharp your blades are, how many clans of Konoha can you cut down?"
"Stop dreaming."
"My promise still stands—Soren, you could be my right hand."
Hiruzen Sarutobi's face was a dark, shifting pool of fear and fury.
He stared down Uchiha Soren, feet braced for defense even as he delayed with words.
(Ten kilometres. That's all I need. Enough for the garrison to see the flare.)
His hand slid to his belt.
A flare shot into the sky—
bursting red against the bright afternoon sun.
Soren watched the performance with thin disdain, like observing someone drowning beneath still water.
Each second, the pressure on Hiruzen grew, sweat collecting at his brow.
"You'll be the first Kage I've killed," Soren said softly.
"So, Hiruzen-san… use your last moments to entertain me."
Sunlight filtered through the leaves, catching Soren's drawn katana and the gleam of his Mangekyō Sharingan.
"Vajra Staff—Gale!"
Hiruzen forced his terror down and moved with calm precision.
Wind chakra surged through the vajra staff, woven together with his summon Sarumao forming a tearing cyclone designed to halt Soren's advance.
"Uchiha Style: Wind-Thunder Slash!"
Soren cut open a weakness in the whirling gale and cleaved it apart.
Threads of lightning chakra recoiled along the air straight toward Hiruzen.
"Fire Style: Great Dragon Flame Technique!"
Hiruzen formed a one-handed seal.
A giant fire dragon erupted, devouring the incoming lightning and hurling itself at Soren.
"Not done—Vajra Cage!"
He hurled the staff.
It split into dozens of gilded rods that assembled into a cubic prison—
trapping Soren and the fire-dragon inside.
Flames clawed the cage walls.
Hiruzen, seeing the silhouette struggle inside, felt a twisted triumph.
"Die here, you born-evil Uchiha brat!"
"Will you stop calling me that? You all scream that same epithet so often my ears blister."
A bored voice came from behind him.
Hiruzen froze.
He spun—forming seals—two Shadow Clones appearing at his sides in a defensive triangle.
(A clone that can slice through my ninjutsu…?)
(Did someone steal Tobirama-sensei's techniques again?)
The Shadow Clone Technique, created by Tobirama, made real, chakra-bearing duplicates—but clones were always weaker.
If a clone could sever his jutsu…
How strong was the real Soren?
Feeling his chakra drain, Hiruzen understood the hopelessness coiling in his gut.
He could not outrun Soren—running would expose openings.
He placed his faith in reinforcements.
"Hiruzen-san… you won't get help in time."
Soren's voice was mockingly gentle.
"Show me what you've really got. A future Third Hokage shouldn't fall this quickly."
Sweat rolled down Hiruzen's temples.
His staff reformed into three rods.
The three Hiruzen—one real, two clones—thrust simultaneously.
They struck with brutal force.
Physically, Hiruzen surpassed Soren; even in youth, Soren's body had not fully matured.
But Hiruzen could not bridge the gap elsewhere.
Soren read every strike.
Every thrust.
Every feint.
His blade slipped between openings—
precise cuts, binding thrusts, parries that bent the rods aside.
(Opportunity…!)
One clone suddenly exposed a deliberate opening.
Soren took the bait, skewering it through the chest—
—just as the last clone lunged in a suicidal gambit, wind-augmented staff pinning the fight around the real Hiruzen.
Two sickening cracks—
both clones shattered.
The pain of their dissolution stabbed Hiruzen's mind.
Sweat dripped into his eyes. His focus narrowed until only Soren remained.
Then—
A wave of cold, malevolent chakra surged out of Soren.
It struck Hiruzen's spirit like a hammer.
(This… is what Tobirama called—Susanoo…?)
A towering red half-skeletal giant, nearly eight meters tall, coalesced around Soren.
Majestic. Horrific.
Like a demon looming over the Hokage Monument.
"A man may be killed… but not humiliated!" Hiruzen roared.
Together with Sarumao, he wove a composite jutsu:
"Composite Ninjutsu—Lightning-Water Dragon Barrage!"
A dragon of braided water and lightning slammed into Susanoo.
Smoke and steam exploded outward.
Even so, Hiruzen couldn't tell if it had left a dent.
Susanoo—legendary guardian—was famed for absolute defense.
"Fire Style: Great Dragon Flame!"
"Wind Style: Cyclone Tempest!"
"Composite Ninjutsu—Flame-Dragon Wind Vortex!"
A tornado of searing fire and slicing wind roared forth—
Hiruzen's full Kage-level force unleashed.
But the crimson Susanoo towered unchanged.
"This… can't be…" he whispered.
Soren's Mangekyō throbbed painfully—
Ascension Points patching the brutal strain of ocular exertion.
He sensed Hiruzen's spirit tearing apart—
and he sensed the approaching Konoha reinforcements.
Hiruzen, realizing help was near, felt survival instinct swell.
He shouted, the staff elongating—
propelling him upward in one desperate leap.
But as he rose—
Soren vanished.
"Hiruzen Sarutobi—your life ends here."
"Hiruzen—look out!" someone in the retreating line shrieked.
Hiruzen didn't see the blade.
He only felt a cold slice—clean, merciless—
and the world dropped away.
"Space ninjutsu!" one of the dying shouts cried.
They saw only the silhouette of the killer.
"We'll report this to the Sarutobi clan!" another voice wailed.
"Uchiha monster—prepare to pay for killing Hiruzen!"
Sarumao rasped as he was forced back to his realm.
Soren scoffed.
He performed a reverse-summoning.
His left Mangekyō eye—mapping every space fluctuation—had already recorded the coordinates to Sarumao's world.
Reaching the summon realm was as simple as stepping across a threshold.