OBD: Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Five: Dead Leaves, Rotten Branches, Roots

The first blow came like a lightning strike—a force of nature, inevitable and unrelenting. Raikage A's fist fell with the finality of a storm breaking against stone, shattering the floor where Hiruzen had stood. The air was alive, buzzing and snarling, electricity tracing ragged paths along the Raikage's arm. Hiruzen moved, no thought, no hesitation—only a backward arc, his body contorting, old muscles flexing as the lightning hummed close enough to taste on his tongue.

A's eyes were something ancient, some visceral fury that left no doubt where he was bound. Lightning coiled and hissed around his form—a form that was no longer just a man but power embodied, given direction and will. His speed was monstrous, a blinding nightmare, something from beyond the dreams of war. Hiruzen read it, or tried to, his thoughts turning like wheels on loose gravel, no purchase, his instincts taking over where reason faltered. The Raikage’s attacks weren't something you countered—they were something you evaded, survived. Moment to moment, breath to breath.

"Lightning Body Flicker," Hiruzen growled into the roar of battle, his teeth bared, his mind already steps ahead. The stone floor erupted behind him, A's raw strength leaving blackened craters where Hiruzen had stood. There was no time, no reprieve—the air grew heavy, the sound of inevitability itself, and Hiruzen turned, too slow.

Killer B loomed in the half-light, chakra billowing around him like a thunderhead about to burst. A tentacle lashed, an extension of the bijū cloak, primal. Hiruzen brought Enma around, his staff growing, lengthening, the adamantine strength of it straining against the force of Killer B's blow. The old man gritted his teeth, his bones shuddering from the impact, feet sliding on shattered stone.

"You're quicker than you look, old man!" Killer B’s laugh was a roar of joy, feral and brilliant, his teeth flashing in the chaos of the storm. The chakra tentacle came again, and Hiruzen moved, pivoting, the staff guiding him like the mast of a ship in troubled seas. He spun, each movement a memory, avoiding the strike by inches, dust and debris scattering from the pressure.

This was a dance on the razor’s edge, and Hiruzen knew it. He saw them—his enemies, his own heartbeat, the course of lightning in the Raikage's veins. It all fell into place, a mad, impossible game that he somehow understood, his hands moving through the motions of something older than thought itself.

"Fire Release: Dragon Flame Bomb." His voice was smoke, and the fire followed—the air itself became something molten, a river of red heat that twisted and writhed toward A. He didn’t expect it to land—he knew it wouldn’t—but it bought him seconds, forced A to pull back, his massive form shrouded in the steam of his own dissipated power. The Raikage roared, a torrential wind scattering Hiruzen’s flames in all directions.

Hiruzen didn’t stop. He couldn’t. The fire was gone, and Enma twisted in his hands, splitting, his chakra pouring through the staff as he fractured it into three, each extension akin to a living serpent seeking its prey, intercepting Killer B before he could advance.

"Take this, old timer!" Killer B’s blades flashed—each held in an unpredictable grip, angled bizarrely, with an almost rhythmic bobbing that made his attacks impossible to predict. But Hiruzen had faced more styles than he could count, seen the way Killer B shifted the grip to adapt to each split-second change in trajectory. It was like watching water flow over rocks—B’s twin swords arcing past the first segment of Hiruzen’s staff, only for a second and third to meet them in quick succession.

Metal rang out, a sound that shook the bones, and Hiruzen’s left hand formed a seal—shadow clone—one after another, a desperate attempt to flank. The clone moved in, sealing tags at the ready.

"No tag for me! Let me show ya why, bee-otch!" B whirled, chakra surging, the glow of his bijū cloak deepening to something dark and brutal, energy blasting outward, scattering the clones like so much dust. Hiruzen leapt, his vision narrowing, the pounding of his heart too loud in his ears.

The Raikage came again—in an instant, a flash of violence, of light given purpose—a kick that moved faster than thought. Hiruzen twisted, the world narrowing to pain and movement—the blow caught his side, and though his body was toughened by years of training, he could feel ribs creak beneath the force, air leaving his lungs in a sharp hiss. The pain sparked like lightning across his mind, but he couldn’t afford to stop moving.

"Earth Release: Mud Wall." His hands moved, the stone rose, a barrier, something solid in the storm—and A’s fist shattered it, fragments falling like rain, but it bought Hiruzen a half-second, a breath, and that breath was all he needed. His body hurt—the kind of sharp, immediate pain that threatened to slow his limbs—but his mind was still clear. His chakra moved, and so did his hands.

"Shuriken Shadow Clone Technique." He threw a single shuriken, watching it multiply. The sky filled, steel upon steel, a thousand blades—tens of thousands, hundreds. They blotted the heavens. Killer B's grin faltered, his rhythm disrupted. The Jinchūriki danced again, evading the barrage—and the explosive tags hidden with the storm Hiruzen detonated. Explosions by the dozens, smoke rolling, the acrid sting filling the air—a heartbeat of silence, a gift of time that Hiruzen knew was borrowed.

He saw A’s eyes, even across the smoke—burning, that rage that was something physical, something hungry—and beyond him, Killer B, chakra burning like a forest aflame, his bijū's form growing, monstrous and immense.

Hiruzen knew he couldn't win—not truly. But he would fight. Every breath, every inch—he would make them earn it.

He stood, Enma solid in his grip, pain ignored, the old fire still smouldering in his eyes. The fight was far from over—and the old monkey wasn't done dancing just yet, not by a long way.

***

Genma was the first to move, his body flickering the same moment the Raikage burst into motion. The world seemed to hold its breath and then he was gone, fulgurating across the battlefield like a shadow made of flesh. He appeared behind Darui, his kunai drawn, eyes narrowed and focused, a predator in the brush. The whisper of chakra moved like a river through stone, and Darui’s blade was there waiting, steel meeting steel in a flash that threw sparks into the darkness. Genma felt it down to his bones, the weight of Darui’s strength, and he twisted his body, a kick aimed low, but the air itself shattered into light.

“Lightning Style: Wave of Inspiration!” Darui spoke almost casually, the way a man might call out in greeting to a neighbour, and then the air was filled with jagged arcs of white. They lashed out toward Genma, burning the earth, forcing him back, his legs burning as he vaulted out of reach.

Raidō came the next instant, his katana singing as it cut through the night. Chakra flowed along the steel, a purpose imbued within it, a promise of death. He was close, the edge of his blade carving an arc, but C was there, fingers already weaving, the seals forming like a second nature. Light burst from his hands, sudden and blinding.

"Lightning Illusion: Flash Pillar!" The brilliance erupted and Raidō winced, his vision blurring, the world turning to a smear of brilliance and shadow. He felt rather than saw the movement, C's fist closing in, a blow aimed at his ribs. Instinct moved him, katana shifting, a defensive arc that caught C’s advance and drove him back.

“Genma, now!” Raidō called, his voice hoarse, his eyes still struggling to find focus. But he knew the opening was there, that fleeting moment when the guard was dropped and vulnerability showed itself, just for a heartbeat.

Genma’s form blurred, a kunai in hand, chakra pooling along the edge, a flicker of blue extending the reach. He lunged, his breath held, the edge of the blade whispering toward C's unguarded flank. And it would have been enough, but then Darui was there, his blade intercepting, steel clashing with steel in a sharp, discordant note that echoed across the battlefield.

“Not bad,” Darui said, his eyes narrowing, a flicker of lightning running down the length of his blade, black and cold and filled with purpose. He pushed, chakra surging, and Genma flipped backward, barely escaping as a beast of lightning roared from Darui's hand, a black panther of chakra that leaped toward him, snarling and crackling.

“Storm Style: Black Panther!” The thing roared, alive, a force with teeth and claws, and it would have torn Genma apart had Iwashi not intervened. His hands moved, chakra gathering, a barrier of water rising up, slamming into the beast, steam billowing into the air. The clash rattled Iwashi to the bone, but he held his ground, pushing back against the power, refusing to yield.

“Genma!” Raidō’s voice cut through the din, his body already moving, his chakra a fire in his veins. He darted in, his katana aimed at Darui's exposed side, and for a moment, it seemed like they had him. Genma was there too, his kunai clashing against Darui’s lightning blade. The two of them moved together, one high, one low, forcing Darui to fight on two fronts, his attention split. A single nick, the blade cutting into Darui's shoulder, the scent of blood hot and metallic in the air.

“We’ve got him!” Genma's words were half a growl, half a prayer, but there was no respite. No mercy. C moved, his chakra rising, the seals forming, and Raidō could feel it—the shift in the air, the hum of power, the electricity that made the ground shiver.

“Lightning Release: Electromagnetic Murder!” The earth itself seemed to come alive, arcs of lightning zigzagging, erratic, unpredictable. Raidō and Genma leapt back, their bodies twisting as the bolts carved scars into the ground.

Through the chaos came Iwashi’s senbon glowing with chakra, blue fire that split the night. He threw them, each needle a streak of light, dozens splitting into hundreds, and C shifted, his chakra diverting to shield himself, abandoning his attack.

Genma landed, his feet skidding on the torn ground, his breath harsh, his eyes sharp. They moved as one, the three of them, the years of fighting side by side, each trusting the others to hold the line, to cover their backs. Darui's blade flashed, arcs of lightning extending, but Raidō was there, his katana intercepting, the clash of metal ringing out. It was strength against strength, will against will, sparks flying like fireflies in the night.

“We can’t keep this up forever,” Genma breathed, his eyes flicking to C, who was already preparing, the lightning dancing in his hands, his chakra coiling. He felt the weight in his bones, the exhaustion creeping in, the edge of his strength starting to dull.

“Then we make them break first,” Raidō answered. His gaze met Genma's, a knowing look, a shared past. They had fought worse, they had survived worse. This was no different.

Iwashi nodded, his chakra a coil, ready to spring. “We make it count.”

And they moved, three shadows in the night, one body with three hearts, three minds. It wasn’t about winning, not in the way others understood it. It was about survival. It was about enduring. Outlasting. Finding the moment to turn the tide. And so they fought, each step measured, each breath borrowed, waiting for that one chance that would make all the difference.

***

The battlefield stretched below, a grim theatre of smoke and chaos. Danzo Shimura stood on the high ground, eyes narrow behind his bandages, observing the battle unfold. Around him, his core "kill squad" waited in tense silence. The air was sharp with the bite of adrenaline, the chill of expectation. Torune Aburame stood to Danzo’s right, his body still as death. Fū Yamanaka watched, eyes focused, his hands resting easily by his sides. And then there was Kakashi Hatake and Yamato, the youngest and arguably most potent of the four, their postures languid despite the severity of the situation. 

Danzo's gaze flickered between the two engagements happening simultaneously. Below, Raikage A's fists hammered against the ground like a living storm, chasing Hiruzen Sarutobi across the shattered landscape. Lightning arced, the force of each blow causing the earth itself to tremble. Hiruzen’s movements were swift, almost graceful, but Danzo knew better than anyone that his former partner had lost his edge. Age had wearied the Hokage, the fire that had once blazed in his eyes now only a flickering ember.

Danzo watched dispassionately, his focus shifting to the second battle. There, Genma, Raidō, and Iwashi fought like men possessed. They danced around Darui and C, their movements desperate but calculated, each step taking them closer to the edge of exhaustion. Lightning flared, water rose, blades clashed. It was all as Danzo had expected—both sides had depleted themselves, the shinobi struggling to keep pace, their chakra nearly drained.

Danzo allowed himself a small, almost imperceptible smile. Everything was falling into place. He gestured to Torune, a subtle tilt of his head, and the Aburame nodded, understanding the command and relaying it to the rest of their forces. The time had come.

ROOT moved like shadows, slipping from their concealed position into the fray below. The transition was seamless, the mass of operatives spreading out, encircling the battlefield. Danzo descended slowly, his gaze steady, his steps measured. He saw Hiruzen glance up, saw the flicker of hope cross the old man’s face. Reinforcements, he thought. Relief, perhaps salvation.

Danzo’s lips curled in a smile. He kept his expression neutral as he stepped into view, his eyes meeting Hiruzen’s.

"Danzo!" Hiruzen’s voice was hoarse, but there was a note of hope in it. "You’re here…"

Danzo gave a nod, the picture of loyalty, of camaraderie. Torune was on the Raikage in that instant, joining the Hokage in battle. The Raikage lashed out then, his arm moved faster than sight, a lightning bolt that caught the Aburame in the chest. Ribs shattered like glass, and Torune’s body was flung like a broken doll across the battlefield. Dead. Though not without infecting the Raikage with his virulence in the process.

A shuddered as the bugs dug into his skin, coursing through his blood. His body rebelled against him, and for a moment the giant fell to his knees. At that moment, Danzo finally committed, stepping in beside Hiruzen. The two of them struck in unison. Enma extended, a weapon forged in fury, while Danzo's wind-style sliced the air. The Raikage, though drained, refused to fall without one final stand. His eyes burned with a primal fury, and he roared, lightning arcing wildly from his form, the very air vibrating with his power. He struck out, his massive fist catching Hiruzen off guard, sending the old Hokage staggering back, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. Danzo moved in, his wind blade slicing through the air, but the Raikage twisted, catching Danzo's arm, his grip crushing.

For a moment, it seemed as though A would turn the tide, his strength refusing to be quenched. Hiruzen, coughing and battered, forced Enma forward, the monkey king's torso growing from the staff as his meaty paws wrapped around the Raikage's throat, tightening. Danzo's wind blade found its mark then, cutting deep. But even then, A roared, throwing the two back before finally falling to his knees once more and not raising again.

"It's done," Hiruzen said, his voice heavy, and sweat ran down his aged face. He turned, his eyes on the battle still raging where Killer Bee fought like a cornered animal, the desperation of his movements betraying him. Kakashi, Yamato, and Fū were all upon him, pressing him, beating him down. Without hesitation the pair joined in.

A minute later, wooden tendrils wrapped around the Jinchuriki, forcing him to his knees. Then, with a dull rumble, wooden pillars emerged from the earth around him. Killer Bee struggled, the light of his bijū power flickering. Suppressed.

Danzo and Hiruzen paused in their assault, and for a moment it seemed the battle was theirs. Hiruzen gave a weary nod to Kakashi, to Yamato. "Hold him steady. We end this now."

But Danzo's heart held different ambitions. He turned, his eyes narrowing, his hand moving with a deliberate, terrible intent. He struck like a serpent, the wind chakra forming at his fingertips. Hiruzen turned, his eyes widening, and the word left his lips in disbelief. "Danzo…?"

The wind blade struck him, not deep, but enough. Enough to throw Hiruzen off balance, enough to bring the true blow down.

"Kakashi. Now." Danzo's voice was ice.

Kakashi hesitated for a heartbeat, and the Sharingan spun, and then he moved. His body blurred, the Chidori igniting in his hand, blue and terrible, a thousand birds screaming in the dark. The lightning pierced Hiruzen's chest, and the old Hokage gasped, his body jerking, the light leaving his eyes.

Hiruzen fell. In that same instant, Enma vanished, the smoke curling where once he stood.

Hiruzen's guards cried out, and they rushed to their Hokage, but the ROOT moved like death, silent, swift. They fell upon them without mercy, and the guards died, one after another, unable to stand against the tide of darkness that washed over them.

The Daimyō's guards fell next. They stood no chance. They had been brave, loyal to the end, but that end came swiftly at Danzo's cold command. They were cut down without a word, and the battlefield was quiet then, save for the slow, dying breaths of the fallen.

Danzo surveyed the battlefield as his attention turned to the Fire Daimyō, who knelt amidst the chaos, his face pale, his family huddled close. The elder gave him a mockingly respectful bow, his voice measured. "Daimyō-sama, you are safe now and will be under my care for the foreseeable future. We will be escorting you back to Konohagakure, I hope that won’t be a problem."

The Daimyō shook his head, too stunned to speak, his eyes wide with fear and confusion. Without a word, Kakashi and the others moved to surround the man and his family, grabbing them and making for the trees.

As they began their journey back to Konoha, Danzo allowed himself a thin smile. The Raikage was dead. Hiruzen was dead. The Cloud’s strongest Jinchuriki lay still, defeated, bound in Yamato's wood, his chakra suppressed. Their losses had been severe, but the victory was nearly complete. Soon, he would return to the village, the hero who had saved the Daimyō, the man who had stepped in when Hiruzen had fallen. He would right the wrongs that had been done, pacify the unruly Uchiha, and finally bring peace to these lands...

As the Fifth Hokage.