With the Lightning Release Chakra Mode already mastered, Tahara Rokuro no longer cared much for the Chidori or Raikiri. In this state, even a casual hand chop carried the same destructive power as those techniques—splitting a massive serpent in two was child's play.
After bisecting the giant snake, Rokuro prepared to close in on Orochimaru with the Body Flicker Technique—but before he could move, a piercing sound wave slammed into him.
His body froze. For an instant, his mind went blank. A sharp, stabbing pain tore through his ears.
In that daze, Rokuro saw Orochimaru rushing toward him. The Sannin's mouth gaped unnaturally wide, and from within slithered a small snake. The little serpent unhinged its jaw and spat out a gleaming blade—the legendary Kusanagi Sword.
Clang!
The sword struck squarely at Rokuro's chest—his vital point—but to Orochimaru's astonishment, the blade that could cleave through steel couldn't even pierce his clothes, let alone his flesh.
By then, Rokuro had recovered. Lightning surged once more across his body as he launched into the Uchiha Flow Taijutsu—an explosive flurry of blows that sent Orochimaru staggering back.
"So, the Lightning Armor has such a weakness—it can't defend against sound waves?" Rokuro muttered in surprise, though a hint of admiration flickered in his eyes. Orochimaru's battlefield analysis was terrifyingly sharp—he had identified and exploited the armor's flaw almost instantly, using a perfectly countering ninjutsu.
To do that required not just keen observation but also an encyclopedic understanding of ninjutsu—skills Orochimaru possessed in abundance.
"What an extraordinary tool," Orochimaru said, voice dripping with fascination. "Even unconscious, it remains active. Tell me, Rokuro, does your 'tool' simply need chakra to sustain it?"
"Orochimaru, if you want to know…" Rokuro smirked. "You'll have to defeat me first."
Orochimaru retracted the Kusanagi and licked his lips with his unnervingly long tongue. Forming a rapid sequence of hand seals, he stirred up a violent gale around him. The whirlwind forced Rokuro back, kicking up dust and debris until vision was nearly zero.
Then—whoosh!—a shrill sound cut through the haze.
A shuriken came spinning toward Rokuro, fast as lightning.
But Rokuro was faster. A simple tilt of his head would have been enough—but as it neared, something in his instincts screamed. His face hardened, lightning flashed beneath his feet, and he vanished at full speed.
The shuriken missed him—but the tree behind him wasn't so lucky.
The small, palm-sized weapon sliced cleanly through a trunk as thick as two men's arms, splitting it with surgical precision.
And it didn't stop there. After cleaving one tree, it cut through two more before finally embedding itself in the fourth.
"Vacuum Shuriken…" Rokuro murmured.
Orochimaru chuckled. "Impressive reflexes, Rokuro. But even your Lightning Release can't overcome elemental nature. Wind beats Lightning—be careful now."
He drew another shuriken, sliding his index finger through the ring at its center. A torrent of Wind Release chakra enveloped it, spinning faster and faster until the air itself hummed with lethal energy.
Wind was formless—unless one possessed the Sharingan or Byakugan, it was impossible to see the razor-edged aura coiling around the weapon. The last shuriken had cut through trees precisely because those wind blades were nearly the size of a wagon wheel.
This technique required both shape and nature transformation of Wind Release chakra—the very same move Danzō once used against Sasuke.
Deadly, invisible, and fast. Without the Sharingan, dodging it was nearly impossible.
Orochimaru threw it again. Rokuro readied to dodge—but then noticed Orochimaru's hands flashing through another set of seals.
"Shuriken Shadow Clone Technique!"
At the final seal, the single shuriken multiplied into dozens, filling the air in a deadly storm.
Lightning erupted across Rokuro's body, his Lightning Armor surging beyond its safe limit. Pain lanced through every muscle like needles, but his speed skyrocketed beyond its normal threshold.
He shot forward, weaving through the storm of shuriken faster than the eye could follow—every step a blur of blue light.
In mid-stride, he reached into his robe and flung a handful of paper shuriken toward Orochimaru.
Orochimaru arched a brow, unimpressed. The flimsy projectiles were slow and weak—completely harmless.
But the next moment, realization struck.
Just as the paper shuriken fluttered past him, Rokuro's form vanished—then reappeared behind Orochimaru, a lightning-coated fist crashing toward his head.
Orochimaru barely managed to raise his arm to block—but the impact drove him back several meters.
Before he could recover, Rokuro disappeared again—reappearing from another angle for another strike. Orochimaru countered with a kick, deflecting the blow, but when Rokuro vanished a third time, he could no longer keep up.
BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!
Rokuro flickered around Orochimaru like a ghost, attacking from every direction. To onlookers, it was as if he were teleporting—an unending barrage of strikes.
Even a seasoned warrior like Orochimaru couldn't respond. After several hits, his pale face was swollen and deformed from the assault.
And yet… this fighting style—it was all too familiar.
"Flying Thunder God… the Yellow Flash!" Orochimaru hissed between his teeth.
With a final blow, Rokuro kicked him squarely in the chest, sending him crashing through a tree.
Rokuro prepared to pursue—but froze. His teleportation marks were gone.
Looking around, he saw that the area was now swarming with venomous snakes—and the paper shuriken he'd used as markers were all chewed to pieces.
He couldn't help but marvel again at Orochimaru's tactical prowess.
Despite his injuries—ten or more broken bones—Orochimaru's body still moved. For anyone else, that would have been the end. But Orochimaru's greatest asset was his monstrous vitality.
His jaw unhinged grotesquely, opening wide enough to star in a horror film. From that gaping mouth, two pale hands emerged, pulling it wider still.
Then—another Orochimaru crawled out of his own mouth, his new body slick with fluids but completely unharmed.
The Living Corpse Reincarnation. Disgusting to witness—but even the Amaterasu couldn't finish him when he used it.
Rokuro extended his senses. Orochimaru's chakra had dropped slightly—but only by about a tenth. The massive chakra cost the technique was known for apparently didn't apply to him.
"As expected, a full-strength Orochimaru is almost impossible to deal with," Rokuro thought grimly. "If this drags on, I might have to use Shinra Tensei or Banshō Ten'in…"
A small snake slithered up Orochimaru's arm, its fangs clutching a tattered paper shuriken.
Orochimaru took it, studying the seal inscribed upon it. His lips curved.
"As I thought… the Flying Thunder God formula. You truly are a prodigy, Rokuro. Not only have you mastered the technique, but you can even use it in live combat—just like Minato once did. Other than a bit of inexperience, you're already his equal."