The arrival of the two new chakra signatures was like a sudden, violent shift in atmospheric pressure. The primal, electric fury of the Raikage and the cold, spectral rage of Renjiro's Susanoo had created a closed system of hatred, a feedback loop of destruction in the crater. Now, two vast and opposing weather fronts had crashed into that system.
For a single, heart-lifting second, a wave of pure, unadulterated relief washed over Renjiro. The familiar, earthy, toad-summoner's chakra of Jiraiya and the uniquely cold, sinuous presence of Orochimaru were not just allies; they were legends.
They were salvation.
The unbearable pressure of fighting a demigod alone evaporated, and the tension in his shoulders, which he hadn't even registered, lessened by a fraction.
Then, the relief curdled into something cold and heavy in the pit of his stomach.
Dread.
'They've seen it,' he thought, the realisation a cold knife twisting alongside the searing pain in his eyes.
'They've seen my Mangekyo and the Susanoo.'
His mind, still operating at the hyper-speed granted by his dojutsu and adrenaline, raced through the implications. Showing the Raikage was one thing. It had been a do-or-die situation, a desperate card played against an existential threat from outside the village. The Raikage was an enemy. His knowledge was a future problem, not an immediate, internal one.
But Jiraiya and Orochimaru were Konoha shinobi. They were the Hokage's most powerful and trusted agents, at least currently for Orochimaru's case. Their eyes were Hiruzen Sarutobi's eyes. And now they had seen the ultimate power of the Uchiha clan, a power that, until this moment, had been the stuff of myth and whispered legend, embodied only by the ghost of Madara. They had seen it not in some elder of the clan, but in a young jonin, a half-Uzumaki who was already a political anomaly.
'There's no hiding it now,' he resigned himself, a profound exhaustion seeping into his bones, deeper than any physical fatigue.
'The village knows. The Hokage will know. Danzo will know within the week. The Uchiha clan… Daichi…'
He saw it all unfolding: the suspicion, the fear, the demands, the attempts to control him, to use him. He was no longer Renjiro, the promising jonin. He was Renjiro, the weapon. A new, terrifying variable in the already volatile equation of Konoha's internal politics.
A tiny, fragile spark of hope managed to ignite amidst the dread.
'Maybe… just maybe… this changes things. Maybe this power can be a deterrent. Maybe I can be a bridge, not a weapon. If I can survive this war, perhaps I can use this… this curse… to prevent the fallout. To stop the massacre before it ever becomes a thought in Danzo's mind.' It was a naive hope, and he knew it, but it was the only lifeline he had left.
Across the crater, the Third Raikage's calculations were far more immediate and grim. His eyes, narrowed in pain and fury, flickered between the flaming spectral giant and the two new arrivals on the rim. His mind, a general's mind, assessed the battlefield with cold, brutal logic.
'Jiraiya of the Sannin and Orochimaru of the Sannin.'
The titles alone were enough to make any Kage apprehensive. 'Individually, each is a Kage-level shinobi, strong enough to lead a village in their own right. Together…' He glanced down at the deep, sizzling furrows all over his body as well as the lesser cuts littering his body, the way his breath hitched slightly from the chakra drain. He was injured, his legendary cloak broken, his reserves depleted from fighting the Uchiha boy.
'Dealing with one was a challenge. Dealing with three is… tactical suicide.'
The math was undeniable. He was in an all-in-all bad situation.
On the crater's edge, Jiraiya and Orochimaru didn't hesitate. Their synergy, forged in decades of battle, was seamless. A single, shared glance was all the communication they needed. In perfect unison, their hands flew through a series of seals.
'Kage Bunshin no Jutsu!'
Two puffs of smoke erupted beside each of them, creating perfect replicas.
Then, all four of them, the two originals and their two clones, leapt into the air, landing at the four cardinal points around the massive crater, pinning the Raikage at the centre. Their hands moved in a complex, synchronised pattern, a ritual of immense power.
"Barrier Ninjutsu: Shihō Hōjin!" Jiraiya's voice boomed, echoed a fraction of a second later by his clone and the two Orochimarus.
Four massive, crimson pillars of light erupted from their positions, shooting into the sky before arcing inward to meet at a central point high above the crater.
The pillars then spread, connecting to form four immense, shimmering walls of red energy, sealing the entire crater inside a perfect, colossal cube. The Four Red Yang Formation.
Renjiro recognised it, it was the very same barrier that would be later used by the Hokages to trap the Ten-Tails in the coming decades. The air within hummed with unimaginable power, and the very light inside the barrier took on a bloody, oppressive hue.
Inside his Susanoo, Renjiro stared, awestruck and confused. The display of power was breathtaking, but its purpose…
Jiraiya, his face uncharacteristically serious, shouted across the distance, his voice carrying easily through the humming barrier. "Renjiro! That's enough! Let's go!"
Orochimaru said nothing. His golden, snake-like eyes weren't on the Raikage. They were locked on Renjiro, or more precisely, on the green flames wreathed around his Susanoo. His gaze was one of naked, insatiable fascination, a scientist who had just discovered a new, fundamental law of the universe.
He was trying to peer into its very secrets, to dissect its properties from a distance. He could feel it even from here—a faint, unnerving tugging sensation at his own chakra, a cold heat that promised dissolution.
Renjiro was caught completely off guard. 'Go? Now? But… we have him!' his mind protested, the strategist in him rebelling.
'The Raikage is injured, cornered! With the three of us, we could end the war's strongest pillar right here! This is the chance of a lifetime!'
But the order was clear. And the look in Jiraiya's eyes brooked no argument. This wasn't a suggestion; it was an extraction.
With a monumental effort of will, Renjiro began to pull his power back. The roaring green flames surrounding his Susanoo flickered and died first, withdrawing into his eyes with a soft whoosh, the chakra-devouring heat vanishing and leaving the air feeling strangely empty.
Then, the web of Adamantine Chains covering the spectral form unravelled, dissolving into motes of golden light that faded away. Finally, the Susanoo itself began to crumble. The silver bones fractured, faded from solid to translucent, and then vanished with a sound like a fading sigh, leaving behind the faint smell of ozone and blood.
Renjiro dropped the twenty feet to the ground, his knees buckling as he landed. The sudden absence of the Susanoo's supporting energy was a physical shock. The full weight of his healing injuries, his chakra exhaustion, and the devastating backlash of the Mangekyo crashed down on him all at once.
From within the crimson barrier, the Raikage's furious roar echoed. "Jiraiya! Orochimaru! Tell your Hokage this is not over! This act of war! I will not forget this insult to me and my village! This debt will be paid in blood!"
Jiraiya looked at the Kage, truly looked, and his breath hitched. The Raikage was covered in wounds—bleeding gashes, a horrifying chunk missing from his shoulder, his clothes in tatters. He looked… spent. And he had been fighting only Renjiro. The mental calculation was staggering, and it deeply shocked the Sannin.
'What in the name of the Sage did that boy do to him?'
Orochimaru's speculation, meanwhile, continued unabated. 'The flames retracted into his eyes… so they are indeed a visual prowess, a Mangekyo ability. But to manifest them on a construct of pure chakra… to grant them physical properties… the applications are… fascinating.'
Renjiro tried to push himself to his feet, to maintain some semblance of dignity, but his body refused to obey. A wave of nausea and dizziness washed over him, and he stumbled, his vision swimming with black spots.
He never hit the ground.
In one synchronised, silent movement, both Sannin were at his side. There was no fwoosh of a shunshin; they were simply there, as if they had always been. Jiraiya's strong arm hooked under his right shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. Orochimaru's slender, surprisingly strong hand caught him under the left, his touch cool and precise.
"Let's go," Jiraiya said, his voice low and urgent.
Without another word, without a single glance back at the furious Raikage trapped in his crimson prison, the three of them vanished. The air where they had been standing cracked softly with the force of their departure.