The Pantheon of Nine
By: Finn Mertenz
A/N: twisting tempest - No modern Human has an original thought, ideas are just improved upon. Even the idea of spaceships and aliens existed thousands of years ago, in Egypt.
So, when it comes to Easter Eggs, I don't see it as some rip-off of the source material. In fact, I see it as quite the opposite, by showcasing another story in a new light.
If you read this story and say "Hey, that reminds me of Teen Titans or Avatar." good. Because that's the point, to show you, the reader, how influential some stories are.
If you don't like them, fine, but you have to admit, they only add to this story. If I remove one of those chapters because there "knock offs" that wouldn't improve this story.
Actually, it would hurt it.
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN NARUTO. I DO NOT CLAIM TO OWN NARUTO.
Chapter 142: Pride: Little Brother! Fall Of Konoha.
Saturday 4:06pm, October 25th 58SSP.
Thrown back with ease, Neji, Lee and Tenten struck a grove of dried, dead and crunchy grass. Unable to bypass the grey eyes of their opponent, Shisui laughed with a nervous tone.
"I'm sorry about this... Can't let you interfere." He scratched his black scalp.
Shisui of the Body Flicker, that was his title during the 3rd Shinobi War, earned with bloodshed. Now, pitted against the next generation of Konoha, he couldn't help but smile at their growth.
Beaten and bruised; the three students of Sasuke suffered much at these hands of a ninja. Stuck in the center of a barren forest, their sensei long since left them, chasing after Itachi.
"Impossible... Even my Byakugan can't find an opening!" Neji rose to his feet.
"He's evading my kunai too!" Tenten wiped dirt from her face.
Hopping up with pearl white teeth, Lee's smirk was stretched and radiant, but swollen thick. Reaching a singular hand into the pouch on his waist, a porcelain bottle of Saké was raised.
"It's become a habit... But, this medicine helps me a lot." His lid was uncorked.
Drank with gusto and haste, swells of bloated current washed over each side of his lips. Elicit in response, Lee's howl was trailed by aired breath, combined with blush cheeks of pink.
"Please, don't tell sensei!" He wiped the alcohol from his mouth.
Tilting his head in pause, Shisui was left baffled by this consumption of delirious nectar. Stuttering as the ninja in front surged forth, he barely managed to parry a barrage of fists.
Bent back and leaning sideways, Lee mumbled before raising a blind shin high up. Thrust against the unsuspecting temple of Shisui, this reanimated scalp dissolved as his body flung.
Screaming at this muscular release of power, Lee cried before repeated hiccups cut in. Drinking too much for his good, vision became blurred as footsteps turned jagged and misplaced.
"I hate it when he gets this way..." Tenten pinched the bridge of her nose.
Hesitantly sneering, Neji's expression morphed into a gasp as Shisui stood up, headless. Reconstituted by swirling pieces of shredded paper, eyes, skin and hair were restored with color.
"I must be seeing things!" Lee's skin burned like hot coals.
Unleashing the stiff war-cry of a samurai, withered grass was smooshed beneath soles. Fighting like a poetic warrior, he lunged high, spinning both legs in similar rotation and speed.
"Leaf Hurricane!" Words were drunkenly slurred.
Ducked and dodged, the revitalized Uchiha he fought was trained with lightning reflexes. Adding to this complex evasion, Neji's flattened palms joined the fray, emanating a glow of blue.
Bandaged fists of a drunk and the elegant strikes of relaxed hand collided with Shisui's skill. Again, the battle only escalated, conjoined by a thrown mixture of shuriken and kunai.
Precisely directed by Tenten, she smirked with confidence, promptly erased by missing each one. Vanishing from their path in the flick of an instant, Shisui dodged their soaring risk.
Catching these misplaced projectiles between his fingers, Neji stood as Lee sporadically kicked. Illuminated by crackling spheres of ember from behind, they were flanked by a swarm of flames.
Fire Style: Phoenix Flower Jutsu radiated from Shisui, propelled by the weaved outline of seals. Retaining the appearance of a numbered hail, each orb was defined by burning cinders.
Proficient in Water, Earth and Fire Style, the Hyūga prodigy he fought thrust with chakra. Extinguishing several blobs of fire with the back of his hands, their grace was swept and flung.
Pressed together with a clap of might, the sun struggled to pierce dense clouds overhead. Emboldened by pressed sandals, earth below was morphed into wet mud and pooled sludge.
Titled as Earth Style: Dark Swamp, this use of Ninjutsu was earned by years of rigorous training. Seeking to swallow Shisui, his technique missed its mark, consuming nothing but land.
As husked trees sank beneath this summoned muck, faint beams of sunlight took their place. Still, these drowned oaks were used as transport for Tenten and Lee, dizzy and disturbed.
She elegantly leaped from branch to branch while he wobbled and tripped over his own feet. But none of these deterrents were enough, tested against their bustling resolve of youth.
Intercepting their grey-eyed opponent, staggered and linen-wrapped fists were launched aside. Combined with stray kicks and kneed jabs from Lee, Shisui held the line with stiff limbs.
Utilizing chakra to slid across his slicken surface of mud, Neji resembled a tidal wave of might. Focused on the descending outline he fought, two attackers turned into three, perfect teamwork.
However, this pressed pressure was equally matched by a shortened tantō and stern muscles. Three ninja, all with their unique upbringing and skills were pitted against a legend of old.
Flattened palms were backhanded as clenched fists were deflected and kunai evaded. Igniting the spark of vigor inside, Lee howled like a monkey as each cheek flailed and shook.
Perpetually red-skinned from overusing the 3rd Gate, spit spurred loose as he lunged. Taking the depiction of a dozen cartwheels, his movement was a drunken and blurred stupor.
"My youth! It's singing!" Lee's eyes rolled in his head.
Triggered by a mental command; no verbal designation had to be made, flooded by green. Cocooned by this swishing aura, the 4th Gate: Gate of Pain was forced open like broke bones.
Catching this blow, Shisui was propelled back by its sheer force, contorting over downed trees. Winning a brief victory, that didn't hinder Team Sasuke from their steady advance.
The repetitive squawk of crows permeated the air, flying above a pitch black horizon of clouds. Weary of their appearance, Sasuke refused to halt or delay, speeding like a white mirage.
Faster than a snake hunting its prey, he stalked and searched the northern forests of his nation. Looking for any clue or evidence about his brother, raised and revived from the dead.
Further secluded from civilization, the outskirts he reached were thick with overgrown foliage. Covering ancient roads and hidden pathways from the Warring States Period, long ago.
Woven and weaved, this heir of the Uchiha combed the environment with twin gazes of scarlet. Beyond the normal limit of his clan, the Mangekyō Sharingan was a pinnacle of Genjutsu.
With this boon of sight, a nestled trap of vines was spotted ahead, wired around a decayed tree. Spotted and struck on purpose, a sole shuriken exposed a caged herd of rabid wolves.
Clawing at earthen roots, they gnawed and barked in their pursuit, trailing Sasuke as he scoured. Eventually met by a branchless tree, this retreating Uchiha landed sideways on bark.
Instead of tools or Jutsu, white snakes slithered from his robes, scaling barren oak to the ground. Sinking curved teeth into surrounding canines, both animals erupted into puffs of smoke.
Letting snakes coil around furred beasts, Sasuke's attention turned to a layered mound of terrain. The Uchiha Hideout, a forgotten fort from an era long past, abandoned almost a century ago.
Even Fugaku held no idea of its foundation, originally built to deal battle against the famed Senju. Since then, its necessity was lost and untaught, a relic from days long buried.
Seeking to investigate, he lunged from the horizontal lumber he stood upon, a fogged haze. Taking hold of withered branches, he leapt, spun and twisted to find a good source of footing.
Crunching dried and brown blades of grass underfoot, the mountain in front reached the sky. Separated into seven distinct sections of earth, each walled off by a blanket of dry trees.
Paving the stone path up top, its olden way was covered by moss and vines devoid of leaves. Lain before the creation of Konoha, bricks were weathered and discolored from storms.
Hastily scrambling through this overgrown stairway, once lush bushes were reduced to skeletons. Another victim of autumn, a collage of orange and red narrowly clung to branches above.
Too distracted by the fort far ahead, Sasuke paid no attention to their fleeting husks of color. Scoffing cement beneath hurried feet, every other thought was secondary behind his brother.
Traversing the entrance to a terraced mound, concrete towers were conjoined on both ends. Soon met by a dilapidated wall of aged brick, the tile on top was chipped and missing tone.
Diving through a cracked gash in its surface, the compound he entered was awash with disrepair. At its center scarcely stood a two-story fort despite decades of decay and damage.
Lined with decrepit windows, interlocking sections of stone were painted with the Uchiha seal. Faint and faded, their mixed hue of scarlet and white was almost impossible to discern.
The singular entry to this fortress was muddled with rustic doors, fallen from hinges long ago. Shrouded by flickering shadows, Sasuke passed through, entering a desolate estate.
Interior planks of wood were overgrown as weeds sprouted from below, growing at the peak of fall. Dashing up a steep flight of wooden stairs, two boards broke beneath his advance.
A short fall in reality, he saw it stretched on for minutes, flying past endless lengths of concrete. Deducing these signs of Genjutsu, he took hold of an ancient painting, stealing stability.
Shifting into a flock of crows on touch, they flew and fluttered from his reach, denied respite. Breaking the ethereal hold on his mind, poisonous snakes instinctively surged from his sleeves.
Maneuvering towards the tip of staircase, twin scales of white coiled like the lasso of a rope. Reaching the summit of this rickety height, framed pictures of olden Uchiha were stained.
Pressing a sole palm against one of these photos, he pushed and smeared clumped dust aside. Exposing a decrepit and flaked photo of Tajima Uchiha, scowling with stern expressions.
Over 60 years ago, this man was the fabled head of his clan, leading the Uchiha to battle and war. Now, immortalized yet dishonored, Sasuke's Mangekyō swirled and spiraled upon his image.
The father of five children, Tajima lost three to conflict, common during the Warring States Period. Only two sons could be identified by their examiner, the faces of Izuna and Madara.
This picture has to be older than Konoha... Sasuke concluded.
Pulled from this obstruction by snapped wood, he rolled from collapsing beams of oaken lumber. Given way by decades of decay, he had no time to pause, sliding from tumbled pillars.
Spotting a locked and sealed door, he sprang onto both feet before shouldering its hinged bulwark. Barreled into a barren and bricked room, its furnishings were upheld by stone support.
Seated in wait, Itachi loomed at the far end, still like a cement statue in place atop a throne. Revived hands leisurely rested outside the unzipped top of black robes, abyssal and chilled.
Ready and eager for answers, too uncover the final truth of his slaughtered clan, Sasuke stood. As crimson pupils reflected off one another, the height of all Uchiha was bared, Mangekyō Sharingan.
"I want my mom!" Futaba cried.
Dragged by her hand, Hibari scurried her down a damaged street, shaking from explosions. Running for their lives, stored apartments fell and tumbled behind them, brought to ruin.
"Keep moving! We're almost to a safehouse!" Hibachi remembered his training.
Ami, Unagi and Matsuri joined their retreat, traveling over broken streetlamps and rafters. Blockading their path ahead, a toad-masked Anbu was plunged into disheveled dirt and earth.
Gnawed and scarred by the rabid fangs of Akamaru, this pup from the underworld growled. Recognizing this spotted-ear canine, Ami retrieved four kunai from the pouch on her thigh.
Scattered throughout different grades in Konoha's Academy, none were capable of Ninjutsu. Resorting to shinobi tools, this purple-haired kunoichi hurled her barrage of sharpened blades.
Swept aside by the furred outline of his petite tail, Akamaru barked in triumph with bared teeth. Crossing the littered street with a lust for blood, the children in front cowered with fear.
Taking hold of kunai in the satchels they bore, Unagi and Hibachi's grip shook with trepidation. Intervened by wavy locks of blond, Menma barricaded their youthful eyes from battle.
"What are you doing?! Get out of here!" Grey pupils glanced over his shoulder.
Absorbing the brunt of Akamaru's teeth, an ocarina sparkled with slick droplets of saliva and spit. Bronze and bright, a noticeable crack was apparent on its surface, damaged from his past fall.
Using this musical instrument as a tool for war, the revived beast he fought was a slayer of dozens. Many Chunin and Jonin fell to the onslaught of this dog, commanded by Naruto to fight.
Offering her own contribution, Fuki stood stationary aside the plastered and slanted wall of a house. Only 7 years old, she was still a student of Jiraiya, able to manipulate and mold chakra.
"Earth Style: Mudshot Jutsu!" She shot congealed muck.
Forcibly rolling from this wet projectile, Akamaru cleared space for Kiba's nails, swung like razors. Spreading scratched stains, the brunt of these attacks were pitted against an ocarina.
Launching a stiff jab from his right foot, Menma's blow almost reached its mark, halted by muscles. This exchange of Taijutsu scuffled between conflicting forces of ninja, lively and dead.
Stuck in place with no route of escape, gawking children beheld this combat of shinobi might. Curved locks of golden blond fell beside stiff punches of undeath, shedding flaked skin.
Both rushing to intervene, Akamaru and Fuki collided in the midst of air, furred and small. Puffed paws slashed against tiny forearms, using stray branches and roofs as balance.
Blowing stacked debris aside, a clash of knuckles struck Menma's ocarina, spewing soundwaves. Gifted this singular chance of survival, the academy students below instantly fled.
Children thrown into the middle of war, that was the reality for Ami, Hibachi and many more. Inexperienced kids placed against veterans, another trait from the reoccurring Cycle of Hatred.
Crackling cinders of red bellowed through harsh air, clouded with lingering smoke and soot. A battle between shinobi, Iwana sneered as Suzume adjusted her glasses and Daikoku panted.
Revived and retrieved from the other side, Shino was freed from the blanket grip of death. Now, without chakra limits or the physical point of exhaustion, he could fight for ceaseless days.
Even the iconic restaurant of Ichiraku's Ramen Stand wasn't safe, crushed by dislodged streetlamps. Ablaze and wreathed in flame, Teuchi and Ayame had long since fled underground.
In place of this demolished establishment, three shinobi stood as walls of defense and safety. Each gasping with dread as gulps of air were hurriedly sucked and inhaled without break.
"If he doesn't get tired... How can we even beat him?!" Iwana scoffed.
"By never giving up!" Daikoku's will was fire.
A ninja teacher for over a decade, he understood more than most the ideals of determination. With clapped hands, four separate seals were woven with the panicked haste of a Jonin.
As cheeks engorged with chakra-infused embers, a sole bird of cinders was spat into existence. Categorized as Fire Style: Water Mist, these fiery feathers dove into a busted tank of water.
Evaporated during the instant of this impact, geysers of steam polluted the air, obscuring battle. Yet the shinobi it ensnared refused to budge, putting their very lives on the line of death.
Shooting webs that skewered this encroaching fog, Shino's control of spiders was absolute. Beyond the rank of Genin, Chunin or Jonin, he successfully earned the title of Spider Sage.
Kicking Iwana and Suzume aside, two arms grabbed each of them by their collars and throat. Retaining another free pair of limbs to act, this heir of the Aburama caught Daikoku's fist.
Slamming, sundering and breaking this captured group of shinobi, they were slugged fast. Held tight and swung like ornaments, bruises were gained as fresh blood dripped from mouths.
Poisoned and drained by spider fangs, Daikoku and Iwana withered as Suzume kicked free. Watching friends die, the left lens of her glasses were dirtied by splattered drops of gore.
The focused ire for a swarm of hungry spiders, they lunged at this quivering kunoichi. Met by a flapping host of endless beetles, they flickered like a chittering maw of armored shells.
"We'll deal with this, get the villagers to safety." Shibi's voice rang.
Accompanied by Muta, these prodigies of the Aburama stood with hidden hands in jackets. The father of Shino and the head of his clan, Shibi was a veteran of the 2nd and 3rd Shinobi Wars.
Losing his wife to the horrors of conflict, his son was forced to grow up without a mothers love. Even the oldest shinobi still suffered the aged flaws of battle, refusing to heal or mend.
This was the reality Naruto sought to end, to destroy the foundation and nature of shinobi. Too give purpose and reason for every life lost, doomed by the petty mistrust of ninja ambition.
"This way!" Choza spotted bustling flames.
Lunging towards this outbreak of death, he was blindsided and struck by a collage of blue. Fluttering and transparent, spiritual butterflies roamed and soured through a littered skyline.
As pure and ethereal as crystal clear sapphire, these vibrant insects resembled ghostly souls. Caught by stupor from this sight, Shikamaru's eyes widened, encircled by Chunin and Jonin.
"Tha-..." Chōchō gasped aloud.
Even Biwako, Homura and Koharu were brought to silence, reminded of fallen ninja from old. Inoichi himself gritted teeth as armored hand-guards were clenched and raised for protection.
Eclipsed by flapping wings of azure, Choji's slim figure was brought back from the other side. The slayer of Kakuzu and savior of Tani, his name was etched upon the Monument of Sacrifice.
Now, ordered to dismantle and destroy the same village he loved, an aura of Senjutsu throbbed. Confronting everything he cherished, only Naruto could relate to this loss and regret.
Twitching to react, the path in front of Eagle was blockaded by Choza's stretched forearm. Catfish and Chipmunk were also halted, all elite Anbu with distinct masks and painted patterns.
"This is Akimichi business." Choza gave no room to argue.
This statement earned various replies and retractions, including a somber nod from Inoichi. Unwilling to back down, he took up space beside the past Genin teammate from his childhood.
"Then, the Ino-Shika-Cho will address it." Ino's father towered.
Mirroring this response, Shikamaru crouched between these accompanied adults of old. Snagging a hidden cigarette from the pouch on his flak jacket, it was paired with an iron lighter.
Lit by a miniature blaze of embers, tobacco was pulled deep into young and worried lungs. Too stressed to worry about being scold, troubled eyes settled upon his bestfriend from undeath.
"Let's end this as quick as possible." Smoke flared from Shikamaru's nose.
Leaving these famed ninja to settle their familiar bonds, Biwako and the elders departed. Rushing straight towards explosive torrents of flame, soot and ash, they sought to douse the fire.
Bruised, battered and partially naked, half of Dosu's chest was bare, exposed and dirtied. Paired with a needle-pricked scalp of black hair, only his left eye was visible, alarmed and alert.
Hunched behind a disheveled pile of hewn lumber, he fought Son Gokū, the four tails. A demon from the ancient and old world, its might was held at bay only by the combination of ninja.
Sasame and Kagerō aided their Dokage in combat, defending the outskirts of their land. Tangible currents of sound collided against flickering swales of green fire, stark, raised and steep.
All scarred and used by Orochimaru in the past, they now stood for their own morals. Evacuating every citizen and merchant to the underground halls of Oto, they held off against defeat.
Encased by an ethereal blanket of orange, Sasame's fingers tugged on chakra thread. Severing withered trees at their base, four fell like a bellowing avalanche, crashing with weight.
Smashed and smoldered beneath the fiery pressure of Son Gokū, their oak hulls didn't last. Spreading in all directions, dried forests singed and burnt as green fire was carried by wind.
Molding chakra with pressed hands, the snake seal was held aloft in front of Dosu's face. A student of Orochimaru and the Dokage of his nation, chakra was swiftly infused into his hair.
Growing as long as the spiked mane he wore during youth, locks shot out like sharp senbon. Impaling Gokū's left arm a dozen times, it failed to halt his rampage, roaring like an ape.
Purposely unconscious, Isaribi mentally watched the battle from inside her addled mind. A perfect jinchūriki, the control and care for her tailed beast was vast, a true friend to call upon.
None could deny this unhindered pair as the land melted beneath viridescent embers. Scorching a solidified path through barren branches, the autumn drought gave fuel to Gokū's fire.
The daughter of a sage, Kagerō retained a faint glimmer of Senjutsu might, inherited. Utilizing these genetic traits, frail hands were clapped and woven into a swift array of seals.
"Butterfly Style: Soothing Swarm!" An A-rank technique was enabled.
Launched forth like a rattling maw of bullets, each insect was spiritual and blue yet clear. Soaring with flapped wings, they flew in circles around their rabid target, evading furred forearms.
So numbered and fast, they soon resembled a rotating vortex of azure, clean-cutting rock. Zapped and torched in his attempt to escape, Gokū dove stiff palms under stone, uprooting earth.
Chunking this lumbered mass forward, its girth was seared and scratched by butterflies. Obscuring the barren grove they fought inside, hills a mile away shook from their impact.
Still, their confrontation rang and echoed, deforesting trackless swathes from the Land of Sound. Wielding a wilted tree like an average spear, Gokū slashed its extended length outward.
Saved by a shield of sound, Dosu's metallic gauntlet cut dried lumber, shedding splinters loose. Grasping at the oak planks that fell, Sasame's chakra thread twirled and spun with finesse.
Time-after-time, the demonic fists of an ape were parried by whipped bulks of hewn wood. All teenagers in terms of age, that didn't dwindle the fiery will that instilled and drove them.
Separate in stories but united in youth and loyalty, they stood as one solidified force for Oto. Traversing the smoldered land, Kagerō lunged and leapt around the furred strikes of Gokū.
Echoing a strange mix of laughter and rage, hung fangs stretched over an opened mouth. Breathing a beam of emerald flames, this circular inferno cleaved a path straight through oak.
Even chilled stone deep below wasn't safe from this perpetual geyser of extreme cinders. Scrambling to avoid this onslaught, friends were divided by shifting sections of rock and earth.
Jumping between dislodged boulders, Dosu refused to lay down, wincing as he avoided harm. Amplified by propelled currents of sound, his right limb was given greater strength.
Catching a gigantic piece of stone, he hastily threw its weight with the aid of his ninja tool. However, the size of its radius didn't dampen Gokū's continuous stream of green, burning true.
Only a collage of butterflies managed to halt its ever-growing embers, extinguished to a sizzle. More than some ordinary insect, these winged saviors were made of pure chakra.
"It's a nice imitation... But I've seen the real thing." Gokū snickered.
More than any of his siblings, the four tails was distilled by pride, both in his power and heritage. Proud of his royal bloodline, every human he met was judged with condescension.
Over a thousand years age, he beheld the might of a true sage, the Sage of Six Paths. To this aged demon and former king, the children he fought were nothing but fleeting copies.
"Summoning Jutsu!" Kagerō's frail voice rang.
Biting a small wound into her thumb, bloodied gore leaked free, pressed against a branch. Breaking eight trees beneath the expansive weight of a white cloud, sapphire wings bridged out.
Signing a contract with the Great Butterfly Sage, she earned the right through trail of blood. Unable to attain the same rank as Choji, her sparkling resolve was still stalwart and radiant.
Peering from this edge of lingering smoke, a twin pair of black antennae hung high above. Flapping wings the size of a cliff, this monstrous insect gave no pause before soaring forth.
Taking large sums of chakra to call upon this beast, Kagerō stood stationary on its skull. As hands were pressed and held into the tiger seal, the glow of chakra was matched only by her eyes.
Commanding this creature to action, its steep scalp collided against the naked palms of Gokū. Equal in strength and sensation, the victim of this fierce encounter was the surrounding land.
Crumbled portions of graveled earth were blown back by stiff ripples of overwhelming wind. Trees not hewn or cut were torn from there roots, acting like wild polearms of nature swung loose.
Bisecting one of these rushing oaks, a singular thread of orange severed its entire length. Blitzing between this opened gap. Sasame was far beyond the child that stole a kiss from Naruto.
Now; fighting in the midst of the 4th Shinobi War, nothing could be delayed or wasted. Only the swiftest of kunoichi could save their friends, family and village, a notion she took to heart.
As sparse lumber continued to rocket from Kagerō's battle with Gokū, Sasame leapt. Eventually accompanied by Dosu, each trailed a path from fleeting tree to tree without touching earth.
Leering with a raised kick, his attempted blow was caught by the width of Gokū's arm. Bypassing this stiff limb, Sasame's orange strands shed as a stout shin clashed the cheek of a demon.
Releasing the bellowed gust of a laugh, tubed fangs spread wide with an opened mouth. Jammed in place before it could snap shut, mammoth antennae breeched this unsuspecting jaw.
Staggered and struggling to stand, this red-furred ape was knocked through a desolate field. Lined and filled only with the sparse placement of green embers, flames were fueled by chakra.
Lethal to most, Gokū was impervious to their cindered blaze, the caster of their fiery heat. Sundering a sliced stump as he caught himself, four tails squiggled as he twirled over chakra thread.
Bulked and muscular, the reflexes of an ape allowed him to avoid and roll from harm. Meeting this olden demon in the field of combat, Dosu's steel gauntlet collided against stout fists.
Emanating an aftershock of sound and wind, none could escape its reach, blown far. Holding his own against this fierce breeze, the perpetually squint of his left eye gazed with contempt.
Rammed from the side, Gokū's furred silhouette was unknowningly struck by stiff mass. Straining to catch the gigantic butterfly that assaulted him, their titanic struggle was raised high.
Lifted and soaring towards the sky, these animalistic creatures fought in the midst of air. Splitting fluffed clouds above, naked knuckles bashed a scalp between antennae, breaking free.
Forced to plummet and fall, Gokū became the target of fluttered and flapped wings. Dispensing rays of blue, their tint was accompanied by the baring weight of a monstrous butterfly.
Captured beneath this torrential onslaught, four tails of scarlet were thrust deep into earth. Plunged, speared and rocked down a mile below, the ravine he carved was buried atop him.
Soon met by the earthen resonance of deep tremors, the quiet from Kagerō's attack didn't last. Breaking free with scurried palms and sporadic tails, Gokū's demonic howl echoed out.
Trailed by eruptive pillars of green, a volcano was shaped and molded by intense chakra. Imbued with the olden might of a four tailed demon, its lava was emerald instead of orange.
Forever safe from the sweltered heat of his own technique, the thunderous roar of an ape rang. Beating the stuffed lump of his engorged chest, rage took hold of the rigid pride he valued.
Launching a radiant pillar of viridescent light, its length stretched with unending girth and glow. Dividing the terrain with its continuous flicker of light, the Land of Sound was scarred.
Bellowed and wavering, the harsh currents they released scorched trees, rock and twigs. All caught aflame beneath their emblazed embers, consumed and swallowed by waves of green.
This was the ravaged outcome of demon versus shinobi, a conflict designed to save the world. Hoping to intervene, steep flames made the path impassable for Sasame, stuck in place.
Only Dosu was capable of lending aid, brushing seared soot aside as he leapt through hot air. Beholden to the visual exchange between Gokū and Kagerō's summoning, he rushed forth.
Spread and colored blue wings of a giant collided against the naked and muscular palms of an ape. Lost in this violent reciprocity, its ceaseless cycle was formed decades ago, never broken.
Lunging from the safety of the scalp she summoned, Kagerō landed a well-timed kick on her foe. Still, the tainted beast she fought was beyond an average blow, shrugged off with ease.
Taking advantage of this distraction, ethereal blobs of energy were drawn and drained into sight. Funneled towards the gapping mouth of Kagerō's giant butterfly, they corralled and merged.
With the twitched girth of twin antennae, Butterfly Style: Sparkling Shockwave radiated like a wave. Washing everything below a blanket of bright azure, Gokū's red fur was matted beneath.
Powerful, this reprieve of blue failed to last, falling to the oozed and emerald lava of an adjacent volcano. Sprouting three more in unison, Gokū emerged from their magma-littered mass.
Coated and layered by this bubbling liquid, its contrast was stark compared to patches of red fur. Battered and bruised, the curved edge of his left horn was splintered and snapped in half.
Instead of rage, the reaction this earned was the horrendous and mocked laughter of an aged ape. Scooping a smoldered rock between spread palms, it was tossed like a child's toy.
Smashed and smudged, Kagerō's summoning took the brunt of this earthen onslaught. Struck into a dazed stupor, this insectile giant fell against cindered stone, scuffed and disheveled.
Once forested and lush, this desolate landscape of autumn suffered, the victim of vast titans. Wounded and injured from this continuous exchange of might, Gokū's red fur began to shed.
Brought to defeat, the mountainous butterfly that Kagerō employed abruptly puffed into smoke. Parted by vacuum-shaped bullets of sound, these torrents were loosed from Dosu's gauntlet.
Stricken by this tangible barrage, spiked tails of scarlet curved and wrapped around one another. Whelped and beaten, solidified limbs turned ethereal and transparent, brought to exhaustion.
Losing mass and form, a sole tail faded from sight, turning fur into fiery chakra of green. Even demons of old had their limits, reached by the sacrifices of stout and devote shinobi.
Collapsing adjacent rock beneath this tectonic shift of chakra, surrounding volcanos caved in. Pouring molten pools of viridescent ooze that polluted, permeated and purged the terrain.
Rescued only by a stray clump of butterflies, their unyielding wings didn't save Kagerō from harm. Partially burnt and seared, once white and pale skin quickly charred around her left leg.
Stranded in the center of an encroaching lava lake, Dosu's ire was focused and honed on Gokū. Thinking only of country and the citizens that inhabited it, his own safety was an afterthought.
Placing a stern jab to parry the clawed hands of Gokū, it resembled a ghastly form of flickering gas. Pure and pristine, the hue of emerald from this demon was a radiant tone of jewel.
Only the flawless precision of sound kept encroaching swells of flame at bay and dispersed. Contorted and held by the hunched back hero of Oto, the 4th Dokage of his village.
A bare torso grew naked and singed, exposed to a blanket coating of coaled ash, soot and smoke. But none of this swayed the ground he stood with staunch feet, unmoving and undeterred.
Landing a final blow with the steel glove he brandished, chakra-infused sound poured out. Breaking Gokū's reign over Isaribi, this victory was brought to a stalemate as lava swallowed all.
Giving life, limb and love for the land he cherished, Dosu felt nothing but pride and joy. A champion for the weak, a hero of his country and a leader for his people, he accomplished his dream.