Location: The Crater Formerly Known as Kumogakure
Time: Post-Genocide Hours
So... if you expected a fight, well too bad. Aizen had long since reached the super Kage tier—i.e., Prime Madara and Hashirama level—so handling this small Kage alone was quite easy. Worst-case scenario, he might just use Particle Release.
Very funny stuff.
Oh well. Over the last six months or so, he had been gathering Uzumaki in Iwa, slowly moving them there and so on—not that they would stay there. No, fuck that. Iwa was his puppet state, so he could do this rather easily.
As for Kumo... well, as much as he wanted to, he'd much rather just cripple them. From his reports, they were the nation that stole the most from the Uzumaki... excluding Konoha. Well, he'd already done enough damage to Konoha's image. With their sub-Hokage reputation, it would take a long-ass time to fix that shit up.
Like a shit ton of time.
Anyway, back to destroying Kumo. His snake summons were causing mayhem. His shadow clone was, well, releasing the Two-Tails, so now—apart from the Eight-Tails rampaging—there was also the Two-Tails.
How nice of Aizen.
The civilian population was left alive for the most part. He mainly targeted shinobi. He wouldn't kill people who had nothing to do with this.(he knows not every ninja had a part in it, but someone has to pay and he draw the lines at civilians)
The ground trembled as A, the son of the Third Raikage, rushed into the ruins, lightning chakra flaring violently off his body, muscles bulging, rage burning in his eyes.
He had seen enough.
He saw his father—his unbreakable, untouchable father—on the ground, limp and bloodied. Kneeling. Eyes swollen. Coughing up blood. Bones shattered.
The symbol of unyielding strength, the pillar of the Hidden Cloud—
—reduced to nothing but a canvas for another man's brutality.
"YOU BASTARD!!" A roared, lightning chakra exploding from his arms as he surged toward Aizen at blinding speed.
Aizen didn't flinch.
Instead?
He smiled.
And with a flick of his finger—
"Almighty Pull."
The younger A's body jerked mid-air, forcibly yanked forward like a doll on a string.
In the blink of an eye, his throat was in Aizen's hand, fingers digging into his windpipe as his feet dangled inches off the broken ground.
Aizen slowly turned to the Third Raikage.
"Well then," he said smoothly, voice laced with dark mirth. "Seems like we have ourselves a little family reunion."
The Third Raikage coughed, blood dribbling from his lip. His limbs trembled as he tried to stand, fury and desperation etched in every broken movement.
"Let him go!"
Aizen cocked his head innocently.
"I can. But you see... I'm feeling generous today." His Rinnegan gleamed. "So let me make it simple."
He raised his voice just enough for every hidden, wounded, terrified Kumo shinobi to hear.
"You will hand over every scroll, relic, weapon, jutsu, and artifact your village stole from the Uzumaki."
He raised the boy slightly higher.
"Or your son dies."
The Third Raikage froze.
The silence was deafening.
"Tick tock," Aizen whispered, fingers tightening slowly, ever so cruelly.
A choked gasp left A's throat. Lightning flickered and failed around his body. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't move.
Not liking his resistance, Aizen began to suck all the chakra out of A. All those R34s of him and Hinata dying before they could ever see the light of day. His life would be snuffed out before that.
Oh well. Guess Naruto would be fine in the future—if he would even be born. Currently, his mother's relationship with Minato was "friends at best." The one who had rescued her was Seijuro. But Seijuro had a girlfriend and was politely trying to guide her away.
Yet the Uzumaki clung to him like glue. He was her first friend, and she refused to let that go.
"Five seconds."
Shinobi on rooftops panicked.
"Four."
The Kage, having practically everything to lose, ordered his shinobi to listen to the man's words. And thus, they began throwing scrolls, digging frantically through storage.
"Three."
ANBU emerged with boxes.
"Two."
Even the barrier core was surrendered.
"One."
The Third Raikage screamed. "STOP! WE YIELD!"
Aizen paused.
Then, with a cruel grin—
SNAP.
A's neck twisted sideways—his body went limp.
Gasps echoed.
"Oops," Aizen chuckled as he tossed the boy's body aside like garbage.
"But don't worry."
He summoned the King of Hell once more—and shoved A's soul back into his body.
The boy's limbs twitched. He screamed back to life.
Painfully.
The horror on the shinobi's faces was palpable.
Aizen turned to the crowd.
"Now, if you're done scrambling... hand over the prisoners."
The chained, wounded, emaciated Uzumaki survivors were dragged forward. Most were girls. Their chakra chains had long since burned into their wrists. They looked hollowed out.
Some cried.
Some stared blankly.
Some flinched at even being touched.
Aizen's smile dimmed.
His expression grew dull. He wasn't wearing his mask for this mission, so his expression was visible for all to see—alongside his half-white, half-red hair.
The red part was 100% his Uzumaki side. The white part? They had no clue. On an unrelated side note, Seijuro's father had white hair. And he had a mission around the Uzumaki area a couple of years before Seijuro's birth... don't worry too much about it.
The battlefield was silent now.
Smoldering.
Ashen.
The proud towers of the Hidden Cloud lay broken—burned out from within, crumbling under their own weight. Charred corpses dotted the earth like burnt-out candles. The ground itself looked wounded, cracked from the sheer pressure of gravitational annihilation and Bijūdama detonations.
And standing in the center of it all... was Aizen Sosuke.
He knelt slowly, his pristine white robe trailing in the soot, and offered a clean, embroidered handkerchief to a trembling red-haired girl. She couldn't have been more than thirteen.
Her tattered clothes barely clung to her small frame. Her hair was matted with blood, dirt, and dried tears. Her eyes were swollen. Red. Her lips cracked. Her limbs thin.
Uzumaki.
Yet... she flinched when he touched her hand.
Understandable.
She had been claimed by those who once called themselves shinobi.
Aizen's Rinnegan glowed faintly beneath the illusion masking his eyes, casting a soft purple light over the broken road.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, gently pressing the cloth into her hands.
"But I need you to be brave... one more time."
The girl stared at him, then at the shattered remains of Kumogakure beyond—still smoldering.
Her breath hitched. Her lip quivered.
But slowly, shaking like a leaf, she raised her hand—and pointed.
Right at one of the Cloud jōnin who stood, frozen in terror.
That... was all the cue Aizen needed.
The elegant calm never left him as he turned.
He walked forward, the blood-soaked mud not even sticking to his sandals, and stopped in front of the man.
Then—without fanfare, without flourish—
He ripped the man's soul out through his eyes.
A single, agonized scream tore through the silence.
Then silence again.
Worse than the scream.
The girl who pointed?
She didn't even cry.
She had no tears left.
Another girl raised her hand. A bit older. Her kimono was torn, legs bruised, a mark on her collarbone that shouldn't be there. She didn't speak.
She simply pointed.
And another soul was ripped free, shredded through the nose and mouth like mist caught in a wind tunnel.
Another.
Then another.
Five in total.
Some pointed with fury. Others with shame. But all pointed with trauma carved into their eyes.
When the last jōnin crumpled to the ground—a soulless husk—Aizen turned around. He wasn't smug. He wasn't angry.
He was... resolute.
He faced the still-breathing, broken body of the Third Raikage, lying barely conscious amid splinters of rock and splattered blood.
He summoned the King of Hell—the massive spiritual maw cracking open with an ominous rumble beside him.
But this time... there was no healing.
Just a single question.
"Will you attack the Uzumaki clan in revenge for what happened today?"
...
Oh... wow, he was such a big dick for that point.
A's body collapsed beside it, barely conscious, staring in utter disbelief.
"Why...?" he gasped hoarsely, tears pooling beneath his trembling eyes. "We did what you asked. We gave it all back. We... we surrendered. Why did my father have to die...?"
Aizen looked down at him.
Expression calm.
Voice cold.
"How many Uzumaki begged for mercy?"
He turned to leave, Uzumaki girls and boys walking behind him, the survivors trailing in his wake like a sea of ghosts.
"How many cried like you are now—while your father watched?"
The wind shifted.
The survivors of the Hidden Cloud looked up.
And their blood froze.
Far above them—carved into the endless sky—were twenty shadows.
Meteors.
Each burning like a second sun.
The chakra surrounding them was monstrous. Primordial. Raw.
And they were falling.
The first scream tore through the village like a blade.
Then another.
And another.
Cloud ninja ran.
Civilians collapsed to their knees.
Some simply stood there, staring, mouths open, tears running down their faces.
They knew.
There was no hope.
Kumogakure was already gone.
This was the epilogue.
As the final Uzumaki stepped through, even Gyūki, the Eight-Tailed Beast, followed without resistance.
Aizen looked back one last time.
He saw mothers shielding children. Chūnin clutching shredded mission vests. Elder shinobi sobbing as their legacy crumbled around them.
And with one final glance, he whispered:
"Goodbye."
Then stepped into the portal.
And the skies split open.
Twenty meteors slammed down like divine punishment, vaporizing stone, steel, and chakra alike.
The impact silenced the mountains for miles.
The Hidden Cloud... was no more.
A/N somehow not one civilian died....i give a hint....right eye ability.