A strained silence lingered. The banners of Konoha's legacy fluttered above the crowd, but the hush had the pressure of a brewing storm.
Minato gathered himself. He bowed his head in respect, but his voice was firm—clearer than it had been all morning.
"Forgive me, Hokage-sama, but I do not believe Radahn-dono is a bad person," Minato said, meeting Hiruzen's eyes without fear.
"And... we know what he's capable of. I have seen it. We cannot defeat him—at least, not by force. Let me try to reason with him."
A murmur of discomfort rippled through the assembled clans.
Suddenly, Fugaku Uchiha's eyes flashed, and he stepped forward. His voice rang out, cold and clipped.
"So you are objecting to the Hokage's judgment, Minato?"
"Do you forget who leads this village? Have you sworn your loyalty elsewhere?"
Minato's gaze didn't waver—but before he could answer, Hiruzen raised a hand.
"Enough, Fugaku." Hiruzen's voice was steady, though his heart was heavy with the choice before him.
"I understand your feelings, Minato. I know you wish to see the best in others—and you, better than anyone, have seen Radahn's power. But what happened now is a matter for the whole village. The jinchūriki is a burden and a responsibility. Her being taken without consent, even with good intentions, is not something Konoha can let pass."
Minato bowed, not backing down.
"Please, Hokage-sama. Give me a couple of minutes. I swear I will persuade Radahn-dono—"
Before Hiruzen could answer, a voice interrupted—calm, almost grave.
"No need."
It was Hiashi Hyūga. His Byakugan was already flaring, his vision piercing through the trees and the sunlight beyond the open gate.
He inclined his head toward the gathering.
"They are already here."
Then—a thud.
Another.
The ground near the gate gave a muted shudder, as if it too recognized what approached.
Through the dappled morning light, Radahn strode in his full regalia—his golden armour reflecting sun like the crest of a sunrise, red cape billowing behind him, a living monument to tales the children of Konoha had once whispered to frighten each other. His every step was measured. Not showy, simply inevitable—like a tidal wave in slow motion.
Rin walked at his right, matched his stride with surprising calm. The only sound was Radahn's armoured boots on old stone, and the faint clink of plate, cloak, and harness.
Civilians had not run for the spectacle—they had hidden, peeking in clusters behind closed window shutters, mothers clutching their children's shoulders. Their fear was not just of violence, but of legend. Still, curiosity was harder to kill than worry; faces pressed at every half-open window, all eyes drawn—first in terror, then in pure, helpless awe—to the shining colossus that now entered their city.
At the gates, even the bravest shinobi couldn't help their mouths falling open at that first flicker of gold. For a breath or two, spectacle overtook sense. In the hush, Radahn's presence filled the gap that a thousand words never could.
It was Hiashi Hyuga who broke the spell—not with fear or anger, but with an incredulous, almost mocking laugh.
"So this is your great warrior, Minato?"
He smirked, lips curled in something between amusement and the pride of someone convinced they'd seen it all.
"You summon all of our clans, all of our best, for him?" He gestured with a broad sweep, for a moment including every jōnin, every branch mainline shinobi in Konoha in his casual dismissal.
"He looks strong, I'll give you that—golden armour and the swords. But from what I can see with these eyes… he doesn't even have chakra. I don't see a flicker, not a drop. What's he going to do—swing his sword and hope we line up for a turn like hunters fighting a wild boar?"
Soft laughter rippled through a few of the Hyūga elites behind him. Even one of the Inuzuka grinned, baring a fang with a low snort. Someone whispered "golden beetle" and stifled a chuckle.
Hiashi pressed, louder for all the other clans to hear.
"Do we really need—all—of us to handle a man who can't weave a hand sign?"
But the rest remained silent—apprehension, not arrogance, circling the seasoned leaders' eyes. Fugaku's gaze was hard, wary; Shikaku Nara watched with calculating cool; Inoichi reached subconsciously for his knife-pouch, tension humming out from fidgeting fingers.
Radahn stopped just beyond the great torii that marked the threshold of Konoha's oldest road. The sun caught his armour and scattered molten light along the dust. He paused, considering the massed shinobi and elder clansfolk before him.
For a long heartbeat, he simply… surveyed them. Silent, as if calibrating not what he needed to destroy, but whom it might be worth saving.
Hiashi, folding his arms, made a last quip.
"Golden beetle," he repeated, tone laced with a challenge, "if you speak, make it worth our time."
"Child of vision."
"I am not here to threaten your home. But I will not leave alone."
------------------------------------
The village held its breath. Clan leaders watched, hands hovering near blades, as if one wrong word might ignite the powder that swirled beneath their feet.
Before Minato, Hiruzen, or even Rin could speak, Fugaku Uchiha's dark eyes locked on the Hokage, calculating ambition and pride at war on his face. He nodded, barely a tilt of his head—yet it was command enough.
A blur of navy-clad Uchiha erupted from the ranks—elite, masked, merciless.
In an instant, one seized Rin, yanking her back with practiced force as she let out a half-strangled gasp. Another landed behind Radahn, kunai flashed at his throat, precise as a guillotine drop.
The rest formed a defensive phalanx around their clan head, eyes burning with crimson tomoe.
Fugaku strode forward, lips curled in a chill smile as he addressed Hiruzen, all arrogance and pride:
"Hokage-sama, it's already done. Radahn is locked in my genjutsu. This could hardly have gone easier. All this panic, all these clans… and it's over in seconds. Why trouble us so much for a mere show?"
Rin kicked futilely, twisting against her captor, eyes wild with anger and betrayal:
"Let me go!"
The Uchiha holding her jerked her arm, hissing,
"Shut up, peasant. Be grateful we're not rougher."
The words cut through more than just silence—a dozen clan leaders stiffened, looks of disgust or shock rippling through the gathering. Few in Konoha loved Radahn, but to treat a fellow village child—let alone a jinchūriki—like a weapon or chattel? Even some Uchiha seemed unsettled.
Hiruzen's pipe snapped between his teeth; he spat the stem onto the ground, eyes blazing.
Kakashi and Minato froze, disbelief and anger flooding their faces.
A deep, rolling shadow began to pour over Fugaku and his squad. It didn't move with the sun. It was heavier than mere darkness—cold, immense, like the sky about to break.
Before Fugaku could fully turn to revel in his victory, he caught the subtle shifts on the Hokage's and other clans member' faces—their expressions flickering rapidly from anger to shock, then to unmistakable fear. A cold dread crept into his chest as he realised something was terribly wrong.
Fugaku, sensing the unnatural hush, spun to check on his men.
But their confidence was gone; unease rippled through the Uchiha line.
He turned back to Radahn, intending a final gloating remark—
And found that a shadow loomed directly above him, vast and ancient, stretching impossibly from the giant's armoured boots.
"W-where… are my clan members?" he muttered, for the first time unsure.
In answer, a chill drop landed on his shoulder. Red smeared against his finger—blood, cold and fresh.
Fugaku Uchiha's hands twitched as he raised his eyes to the sky. His Sharingan unfolded—a blazing red eye with rotating tomoe, seeking to decipher the unfathomable.
His breath caught cold.
Before his gaze, suspended in the air, were his five most trusted clan members. But they were not upright, fighting, nor even breathing freely.
They were fused into a grotesque, bubbling sphere of blood, flesh, sinew, and bone.
The mass contracted with sickening sounds—crunches, snaps, and wet grinding noises that echoed like a nightmare made flesh.
Fugaku's trained eyes strove mightily but failed to separate the living parts of this melded horror. It was as if some cruel force had scooped five warriors into a grotesque cage, breaking and reshaping them at will.
A heavy wave of nausea swept the crowd. Several shinobi, unable to control the rising bile, turned away, faces pale.
Rin, the Three-Tails jinchūriki, lay on the verdant grass beneath them. She was unconscious, held in a protective sleep woven from Radahn's energy, breathing peacefully despite the chaos above.
The air buzzed with quiet whispers—some sensing her safety, others fearing what might come next.
Fugaku's lips parted in a roar, grief, rage, and disbelief raw on his voice:
"Omae da!!" [YOU!]
His hands flickered into the air, shifting into a familiar pattern only the oldest Uchiha remembered from childhood training. Fingers twisting in rapid succession—a deadly sequence invoking fire and fury.
"Katon: Goukakyu no Jutsu!" [ Fire Style: Great Fireball Technique! ]
A towering inferno hurled forth from Fugaku's mouth, a blazing ball of roaring flame aimed to incinerate the grotesque fusion and claim victory.
But Radahn, encased in golden armour that shimmered like the dawn itself, did not move.
The inferno crashed against him—and as it enveloped the monstrous mass, a strange transformation began.
The mass writhed faster, shrinking rapidly, bones snapping cruelly in the compressed flesh. The dreadful crunching grew louder, more urgent, a sickening symphony that gripped even the most hardened shinobi with revulsion.
The bloated monster contracted into something dense, tighter, more dreadful.
Fugaku staggered backward, disbelieving.
"Nani?!"
Radahn stepped through the blazing inferno, golden armour steam-hissing like molten metal cools, his red cape billowing like living fire. The flames did not scorch him—they bowed before him as if he were their master, settling beneath his feet like a mighty river of molten light.
The courtyard's air stilled with awe and fear.
Then the piercing voice of Hiashi Hyuga shattered the silence.
"How is this possible?!" His Byakugan flared open, almost painfully wide, searching the flows of chakra around him.
"This is no jutsu." His voice trembled. "I can sense almost every chakra in this village, yet this power… this energy… it transcends everything I've ever known. What are you doing?"
Radahn's eyes closed for a moment.
"Forgive me," he whispered.
His eyes opened, brighter, burning.
"Look again."
Hiashi's gaze swept outward anew.
He gasped.
Blood began to seep from his eyes, hot and uncontrollable. He stumbled, the strength draining from his knees. Clan members rushed to support him, shocked and horrified to see their leader overwhelmed by the sheer scale of power.
"I-impossible…" Hiashi choked. "H-How can one being possess so much natural energy?"
All eyes turned skyward, to the source.
Above Radahn's golden armour, a colossal vortex of pure energy spiralled into the sky—an energy tornado that tore through the atmosphere like a living thunderstorm, reaching into the heavens themselves.
One by one, the assembled Hyuga shinobi began to crumble under the weight of unseen pressure.
They collapsed, unconscious or blinded by sudden, mysterious bleeding from their eyes.
Some Shinobi's couldn't hold on and fell on their knees , some fell unconscious.
Hiashi's deep, desperate voice rose once more, struggling to break through the chaos.
"Everyone! Run! Return! There is no stopping him! He is no human. He is a MONSTER!"
With those words, he lost consciousness.