The battlefield was already a wasteland of destruction, but within the chaos, two warriors battled not just their enemy but also themselves.
Kurenai and Anko, now fully transformed into Otsutsuki, had ascended beyond mere mortals. Their chakra radiated like celestial flames, and their very presence warped reality. They were stronger—far stronger than they had ever been—but with this newfound power came something neither of them had anticipated.
The hunger.
It was an insatiable, primal urge clawing at their souls, whispering dark desires into the depths of their minds.
"Consume…"
"Devour the world, make it yours."
"There is no need for others, only power remains."
This was the curse of the Otsutsuki, the legacy of a race built upon domination.
Anko could barely think straight. Her body coiled and uncoiled, her scaled arms shifting, her fingers now resembling the fangs of the great Jormungandr.
She could hear it—the ancient serpent's voice—coiling around her mind like a vice.
"They are prey."
Her golden slitted eyes darted toward Toshiro, her muscles tensed.
"Strike. Swallow him whole. Crush him between your fangs and end his pitiful life."
She could feel her body moving on its own, the snake's instincts pushing her forward, commanding her to act.
Her fangs dripped with black venom, capable of dissolving anything it touched.
For a moment, she almost gave in.
But then she remembered something.
A voice, firm and unyielding—Naruto's voice.
"You don't have to be what they made you."
The memory of his words cut through the madness, and Anko clenched her fists. She wasn't just a beast. She was still herself.
With a roar, she dug her claws into her own arm, the pain shocking her mind back into clarity.
"I… am… Anko Mitarashi!"
She wasn't Jormungandr.
She was human.
And she was in control.
Kurenai's transformation was different.
Her eyes were no longer just red—they were endless voids, shifting and weaving like the fabric of reality itself.
She could see everything—all the possibilities, all the timelines that had ever existed and could ever exist.
And within that endless vision, she saw him.
Asuma.
He stood before her, his back turned, his body covered in the wounds of his final battle.
For a brief moment, she forgot where she was.
"Asuma?"
She reached out, but something was wrong.
The battlefield was shifting, twisting as her mind shaped reality around her without her realizing it.
This wasn't real.
"No… no, no, no!"
Her grief, her longing—it was affecting the very fabric of space. Her power was bringing back what she had lost.
But it wasn't him.
It was just a hollow illusion, a phantom created by her own fragile heart.
Tears welled in her otherworldly eyes.
She had always been strong—for Mirai, for Konoha, for herself—but deep down, the pain had never truly faded.
And now, with this power, she could undo it all.
She could bring him back.
All she had to do was let go.
Let go of reality.
Let go of the world.
Just one thought.
And Asuma would live again.
But another voice echoed in her mind.
Not Asuma's.
But Mirai's.
"Mom…?"
Kurenai's eyes widened.
If she gave in—if she let herself rewrite reality—would Mirai even exist anymore?
Would she destroy her own daughter in an attempt to bring back the past?
The thought hit her like a blade to the heart.
And suddenly, everything became clear.
She clenched her fists, and the illusion shattered like fragile glass.
"No…"
She was stronger than this.
The past was gone.
And it was time to let it go.
The battlefield had turned into a frozen graveyard of ice and shattered dreams.
Toshiro stood at the center of it, his presence a void of warmth, his silver-streaked hair billowing in the storm of his own making. His eyes were hollow, the light of conviction the only thing keeping them from dulling completely.
He was a man weighed down by centuries of duty, a relic of an era that had long since passed, but he refused to let go.
The Icicle Rain he had summoned was meant to be absolute, an execution carried out by the will of a man who had long since abandoned his own personal desires. Yet, his attacks never reached their targets.
The world shimmered, twisted, and suddenly, his own deadly attack had become an illusion.
"Toshiro, you know that this is wrong."
Kurenai's voice rang clear, unwavering despite the chaos around them.
"Why are you forcing your grandson into despair? Every revolution starts with the aim to help the poor, but when the poor finally gain power, they forget who they were and become the new oppressors. The cycle goes on forever. Don't you see that you have become the oppressors?"
Her golden Otsutsuki eyes gleamed, shifting reality itself to force Toshiro to see the truth.
For the first time, Toshiro hesitated.
The snowstorm around him weakened, his freezing winds faltered for just a moment.
"Duty means doing something not because you like it but because you're supposed to," Toshiro muttered. "To make life beautiful, you must be dutiful."
His words were mechanical, spoken like a man trying to convince himself rather than his enemies.
That was when Anko's rage boiled over.
"Bullshit!"
Her voice shook the battlefield, the sheer force of her presence causing the frost around her to crack and melt.
**"Duty isn't about blind obedience! Duty is not what someone tells you to do—it is what your own heart and intelligence tell you to do!
We live in a society, and it is our duty to make it worth living for everyone—not just the bloody Uzumaki!"**
Her form shifted, the titanic Jormungandr coiling behind her, its massive form towering like a living immortal of destruction. The black and crimson scales shimmered with divine power, her fangs glinting like blades that could tear through reality itself.
Yet, even as her monstrous instincts screamed for blood, she resisted.
She refused to let her transformation make her a monster.
Anko could see it now—Toshiro wasn't just an enemy.
He was a man too afraid to let go of the past.
Toshiro's grip on his blade tightened. "You will not convince me, children. This is the path we old men have chosen, and I shall die on this path."
His voice was steady, but his soul wavered.
The ground beneath them froze over, the very essence of energy being drained from the battlefield.
Ice Age.
A technique meant to be the final testament of the Commander of the Uzumaki Army.
A technique designed to erase all power and life, to end the battle with a cold, unwavering judgment.
The air itself became still, suffocating, like the last breath before death.
But Kurenai shook her head.
She had seen too many men like him, men who thought they could hide behind their so-called duty to avoid facing the truth.
She took a step forward.
"You're not some righteous leader, Toshiro."
Her voice was calm but heavy, each word landing like a hammer against the ice surrounding his heart.
"You're just a coward who can't move on from the past.
You weren't there when Naruto needed you. You weren't there when Kushina needed you.
And now that you have the chance to do something, you want to step out of the life of your grandson again?"
Her eyes burned with fury, a deep crimson glow as her Genjutsu began to change the battlefield.
And then, they appeared.
The phantoms of regret.
Standing in front of Toshiro, as if summoned by the depths of Kurenai's soul—Naruto and Kushina.
Their images flickered, but they were real enough.
Kushina stood with her arms crossed, her fiery hair swaying in the cold wind. Her violet eyes bore into Toshiro's soul, filled with disappointment.
Naruto stood beside her, not with anger, not with hatred—but with sadness.
Toshiro's breath hitched.
For the first time, the weight of his guilt pressed down upon him.
"Kushina…?"
His voice was barely a whisper.
The woman who was supposed to be his legacy, his pride—he had abandoned her.
And Naruto, his grandson, the last hope of their clan—he had turned his back on him too.
Kushina's expression softened, but her words were sharp as a blade.
"You weren't there for me, Father."
Toshiro's entire body trembled.
The greatest warrior of the Uzumaki Clan, the undefeated commander, the man who had survived countless wars—
—was now standing before the ghosts of his failure.
"I thought… I thought I was doing what was best."
His own words sounded hollow.
Naruto, ever compassionate, stepped forward.
"Jiji… it's not too late."
Toshiro flinched at the name.
Naruto smiled, that same infuriatingly warm smile.
"You can still make things right."
Toshiro's sword lowered.
The ice storm weakened.
For the first time in centuries, he hesitated.
And then…
He let out a breath.
A breath filled with decades of regret, pain, and exhaustion.
"It is too late."
The desolate battlefield stretched endlessly beneath a storm-torn sky, the air heavy with divine energy as two opposing forces clashed in a struggle that would decide the fate of the world.
Hotaru stood alone, her aura an inferno of gold and crimson, the burning presence of the Primordial Phoenix warping the very fabric of reality around her. Her once-imposing confidence had begun to crack—this fight was taking too long, and her control over her overwhelming power was slipping.
Opposing her, Hinata, Sai, Gai, and Ino fought with everything they had. It was a battle of attrition, a fight against a immortaldess who wielded power beyond comprehension. This wasn't a battle of brute strength—it was a boss fight, a fight that required tactics, precision, and perfect teamwork.
Hinata floated in the air, her Tenseigan gleaming like twin celestial stars, her ethereal bow drawn tight. The arrows she fired didn't just travel through space—they ignored space, existing outside of time before piercing their target. Each shot was an arrow of love, but not the fragile love of mortals. This was love made into a weapon, the kind that crushed evil and uplifted the good.
Sai moved like an artist painting on reality itself, his brush strokes carving creatures into existence, sending waves of celestial tigers and ink dragons crashing toward Hotaru. Each beast moved with a will of its own, harassing the Phoenix Host.
Gai's very presence broke space itself, his Divine Lotus Step allowing him to move beyond time. His attacks never touched Hotaru, yet the very act of his movements tore apart reality, sending invisible shockwaves that ripped through the battlefield with unrelenting force.
Meanwhile, Ino's energy pulsed like an unseen barrier, acting as the team's last line of defense. She wasn't just repelling attacks—she was shielding their very minds. Hotaru's mental assaults were unrelenting, but Ino stood against them like an unshakable wall, protecting her comrades from the Phoenix's all-consuming will.
Yet despite their efforts, Hotaru was still winning.
She gritted her teeth, frustration flashing across her face. She should have ended this already. She should have crushed them and moved on to help her people. Every second wasted here was another second her comrades were fighting alone.
And she didn't have time to waste.
The power of the Phoenix wasn't infinite—it demanded obedience, and her master's patience would not last forever.
Hinata stepped forward, her Tenseigan glowing like twin moons, her hands gripping the golden bow of light that shimmered with divine energy.
"You don't have to do this, Hotaru."
Hotaru's flames surged, responding to the slight tremor in her heart. No one had ever spoken to her like this before. No one had ever questioned the purpose she had lived for.
But Hinata did not waver.
"You can still back away. Realize that you can't dominate this world forever. Your power alone isn't enough to control it, and if you can't hold it, what's the point?"
With those words, she pulled back her bowstring.
Innocent Affections.
A radiant downpour of celestial energy cascaded toward Hotaru, a flood of pure love made manifest.
It wasn't love in the fragile, human sense—it was love as a force of nature. Heavy, overwhelming, absolute.
The ground beneath Hotaru's feet cracked under the weight of it, the energy wrapping around her body, attempting to bind her in its divine embrace.
Hotaru gritted her teeth, leaping away just before the energy could fully take hold.
But she wasn't fast enough.
For the first time, she felt it—a flicker of warmth, an emotion she had long buried beneath her hatred.
And then, Hinata fired again.
Sammohana – A Withering Affection is Not Love.
An arrow of celestial flowers, the weapon of the Immortal of Love, Kama, shot forward, its divine petals carrying an ability that forced even the coldest of hearts to feel love.
Hotaru barely dodged, twisting in midair.
But even so, she felt the concept of the attack brush against her soul.
For a brief moment, she saw visions—her father, standing above her, giving her orders, shaping her into the warrior she had become.
And for the first time, she questioned if it had ever been her choice.
Hotaru landed hard, her flames scorching the battlefield.
She clenched her fists, rage replacing doubt.
"Are you implying that your fool of a boyfriend can rule this world?" she spat, her voice trembling with anger.
Her golden-red flames flared, licking at the sky.
"That idiot knows nothing about leadership! He will doom this world with his naïve ideals! I am the only one who can save it!"
The Phoenix's cry echoed across the battlefield, resonating with Hotaru's fury.
She glared at Hinata, at Ino, at Sai, and Gai.
"I am the host of the Primordial Phoenix. Do you even understand what that means?"
Ino stepped forward, her golden aura shimmering like a protective shield.
"Power is not everything, Hotaru."
Hotaru flinched, but she covered it with a glare.
Ino's gaze was piercing.
"You've lived your entire life in isolation, surrounded only by your people. What do you even know about ruling?"
"Look at yourself."
Hotaru's flames wavered, her body shifting slightly, her posture losing its edge.
"You always look down on everyone else."
For the first time, Hotaru hesitated.
The fire in her burned hotter, but for a single instant, it flickered.
Hotaru scoffed, but her voice wasn't as steady as before.
"The past is a place of reference, not a place of residence," she said. "The past is a place of learning, not a place of living. You think I don't understand this world? You think I haven't seen enough?"
Her hand lifted, and Phoenix clones erupted from her flames, devouring Sai's ink creatures.
But Hinata remained calm.
She simply shook her head.
"Isn't that even worse?"
Hotaru froze.
"You just proved that you have no respect for life."
The words hit deep.
"You are not fit to be a ruler."
Hotaru's flames faltered for just a moment.
She stared at her burning hands, at the divine fire consuming her body.
She had never wanted to lead.
She had never wanted this responsibility.
She was just obeying.
Just following orders.
Living her father's dream, not her own.
She clenched her fists, trying to suppress the sudden suffocating feeling in her chest.
And then Sai delivered the final blow.
"You are just a follower, Hotaru."
His voice was calm—a simple statement of fact.
"Not everyone is meant to lead. And it shows in you."
Hotaru staggered.
Something inside her cracked.
For a moment, she almost let go.
Almost accepted the truth.
But then she screamed.
"SHUT UP!"
A column of divine fire erupted around her, turning the sky gold, the sheer force of her emotions twisting the battlefield into a blazing inferno.
Her flames burned hotter than ever, warping the very air, making it impossible to breathe.
This wasn't just power anymore.
This was desperation.
The Primordial Phoenix's flames consumed her, her body engulfed in a radiance that threatened to turn her into a living sun.
She had been pushed into a corner.
Now, she was lashing out like a wounded beast.
Her voice was raw, filled with fury and sorrow, shaking the heavens as she screamed:
"I AM NOT A FOLLOWER!"
The battle was no longer about control.
Now, it was about who would break first.