Tobirama growled, but teleported again, reappearing ten meters away.
"Focus, idiot!" Orochimaru shouted, mocking. "You've got Hashirama's strength in that arm, but you're too slow to keep up with Tobirama! Strike harder, damn it!" Makima growled, her arm pulsing, the Sharingans glowing like embers.
She charged Hashirama, who waited, his arms open like a colossus. She feinted to the right, then slammed her knee into his sternum, a dull THUD resonating. He staggered, his torso cracked, but instantly reformed, countering with an elbow strike that grazed her face, tearing a strand of red hair.
Tobirama took advantage of the chaos, Hiraishin making him appear behind her. He threw a spinning kick, aiming for her neck.
Time seemed to slow, and she pivoted, grabbing his leg with both hands. She broke his tibia, throwing him to the ground, but he teleported before she could finish him, reappearing next to Hashirama, his body already regenerated.
The Edo Tensei were powerful. At least she knew they would be a great help in dominating the world.
...
A few days after her brutal training, Makima had holed up in a secret hideout in Kumogakure, filled with forbidden scrolls stolen from Orochimaru's archives—he wouldn't want her to know all her assets, even if he was under her control. The flickering light of an oil lamp illuminated her face, her golden eyes scanning yellowed scrolls describing forgotten jutsu—resurrection techniques, soul transfer, time manipulation.
She sought insurance, a way to counter the weakness of her connection to the underworld, which threatened to deprive her of her resurrections. "If I die, I come back, no matter what," she muttered, her ink-stained fingers tracing a complex seal. I need a plan B, in case those bastards corner me.
Orochimaru, lounging in a corner, snickered. "Still chasing immortality, huh? You've got Edo Tensei, my arm, and you want more?" His hissing voice was mocking, but his empty eyes betrayed his absolute control by Makima.
"Shut up, snake," she growled, closing a scroll. "I'm not waiting for the alliance to descend on me. Best defense is to fuck them up first." I need to strike hard, divide them, she thought, a twisted smile on her lips.
Her plan was clear: attack the alliance before they organized, target the weakest to weaken Konoha, their linchpin. After consideration, she chose Kiri, the Village Hidden in the Mist. "Kiri is isolated, foggy, perfect for a discreet massacre. We'll crush them, and the other villages will panic."
Orochimaru nodded, his smile widening. "Kiri, huh? Mei Terumi and her lackeys aren't easy to kill. But you're right, divide and conquer. And the other villages?"
Makima stood, her grafted arm pulsing under the bandages. "We'll divert their attention. We'll send your Edo Tensei puppets to Iwa, Konoha, and Suna. They'll be too busy dealing with their dead to come after us." She unrolled a precise plan: to Iwa, Minato Namikaze and Tobirama Senju, resurrected from the dead, would sow chaos with their speed.
To Konoha, Nagato Uzumaki and Itachi Uchiha, monsters with powerful dojutsu and versatile attacks, would pressure Naruto, Sasuke, Kakashi, and their elite jonin. To Suna, Deidara and Kisame Hoshigaki would rain explosives and tidal waves. "Meanwhile, I'll handle Kiri. Alone."
Orochimaru snickered, forming a seal. "Alone? Well..." He summoned the Edo Tensei, the cracked bodies of legendary shinobi surging from coffins.
BOOM!
Minato, Tobirama, Nagato, Itachi, Deidara, and Kisame appeared, their black eyes empty, ready to obey.
Makima ignored Orochimaru, her gaze fixed on the horizon. "Mei will die, and Kiri with her." She donned her coat, her grafted arm glowing with Sharingans. "Send your toys, snake. I'm going to make a massacre."
A few hours later, Makima floated in Kiri's foggy sky, her coat flapping in the salty wind. Thick fog enveloped the village like a shroud, the pointed roofs of houses barely visible. Below, shinobi patrolled, unaware of the looming danger. Orochimaru, lurking in a cloud's shadow, watched, his twisted smile gleaming like a blade. "Kukuku, ready to dance, Makima?" he hissed, his hands ready to summon more surprises if needed.
Makima fixed her gaze on the village, her grafted arm pulsing, the Sharingans lighting up one by one.
Her chakra boiled, mingled with Mokuton and elemental natures. She raised her arm, a clumsy but powerful seal forming. Suiton: Raging Tide! A massive wave roared, crashing into the first houses with a deafening CRASH!, tearing off roofs and walls. Screams rose, Kiri's shinobi surging, weapons drawn.
Makima smirked, descending slowly, her aura crushing the air. "Come, you insects. Let's fight." And I'll enjoy every second.
Makima crashed into the heart of Kiri's market with a BOOM! that cracked the pavement. Civilians screamed, fleeing in panic, their fish baskets scattering. She extended a hand, a telekinetic blast sweeping the square, sending stalls, bodies, and debris flying in a deafening CRASH! "Run!" she shouted, her eyes glowing.
Chūnin shinobi surged, armed with kunai, forming Suiton: Water Blade. Sharp jets shot forth, but Makima snapped her fingers, a telekinetic barrier dispersing the attack into droplets. SPLASH! She activated a Sharingan, spotting their chakra, and launched Katon: Fiery Blast. A wave of flames burst forth, incinerating three shinobi in a flash. Their screams died in ashes.
A chūnin attempted Suiton: Water Wall, but Makima charged, her grafted fist slamming into his chest with a dull THUD. He flew through a house, dead on impact. She pivoted, her elbow striking another ninja's face, CRACK!, breaking his nose. Civilians, trampled in the panic, screamed, but Makima ignored them, felling a last ninja with a telekinetic blast that snapped his neck.
The fog parted, revealing the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist, menacing figures emerging like specters. Mei Terumi was absent, but her elites were there: Chōjūrō with Hiramekarei, Haruto Tanaka with Nuibari, Kenta Yamamoto with Shibuki, Aiko Sato with Kiba, Daichi Nakamura with Kabutowari, Renji Suzuki with Samehada, and Taro Mori with Kubikiribōchō, the massive decapitating blade. Their eyes burned with anger, their weapons ready.