"Jōnin-level Still Blood Armor."
A collaboration between Orochimaru and Danzō, this was a new version of the Still Blood Armor originally developed from Aizen's research — now refined into a high-grade jutsu accessible only to elite jōnin.
Because it required grinding rare chakra metal into conductive liquid and paint to engrave seals directly into the user's circulatory system, only a handful of top-tier Konoha shinobi possessed it. Yet, there was no denying its power.
The resonance between chakra metal and chakra itself condensed along the bloodstream, forming dense defensive sigils that completely nullified the burning fireball's impact. Even an advanced jōnin's full-powered attack would struggle to breach this upgraded armor.
And its greatest strength — it didn't disable ninjutsu usage while active.
That meant it was time for a counterattack.
Confirming that the flames could no longer harm him, Jiraiya began forming hand seals without hesitation.
Boar → Dog → Bird → Monkey → Ram!
The sequence took less than a second. Chakra surged to his palm and slammed into the ground, spreading out in glowing, ant-like script.
"Summoning Jutsu!"
But before the technique could complete—
"Summoning and reverse-summoning are convenient… but— Mimicry Bakudo #43: Boundary Seal."
The Uchiha flicked his wrist.
A pulse of distortion rippled through the world — space itself trembled and overlapped. Jiraiya's chakra rebounded the instant it touched the ground, exploding in his own hand.
Blood splattered.
The Still Blood Armor's protective film dampened what would have shattered both arms into fragments, but the backlash still tore open his palms. His expression hardened. He stared at the Uchiha who had disrupted the summoning and at the hazy distortions rippling through the surrounding air.
A creeping unease tightened around his chest.
An unsealed technique that interrupts space-time ninjutsu? That shouldn't even exist…
"When a space-time technique is disrupted," the Uchiha explained evenly, "it causes feedback like that. The trick is simple — disturb nature itself and twist the coordinates. Once the foundation of space is misaligned, those delicate little tricks of yours are useless."
He moved again — impossibly fast.
Jiraiya barely saw the afterimage before a fiery blast erupted behind him, forcing him into a desperate roll.
The masked Uchiha stepped lightly through the flames, his movements calm, almost leisurely. His voice warped under the roar of heat.
"You've enhanced your body and physical strength, but your reaction time hasn't improved. Your only chance to turn the tide was that Summoning Jutsu. What now, Jiraiya? How long can your Still Blood Armor hold?"
"Heh… probably longer than you think, senpai."
But inside, Jiraiya's lungs burned.
His vision swam. His heart pounded irregularly.
When he tried to move forward, a wave of suffocation crashed over him. His knees buckled, and he half-collapsed, gasping desperately for air.
It wasn't the armor.
It was as if the air itself had been burned away. Each breath only brought heat, no oxygen.
Why… can't I breathe?
He stared at the Uchiha's withered staff glowing faintly with ember light. Despite the chaos, the man looked calm — detached — as if merely watching an experiment run its course.
If it had been a normal fight, Jiraiya could've overwhelmed him through sheer endurance and close-combat skill. But now, his stamina drained faster with every second. His body screamed for air. Even the Still Blood Armor's reinforcement couldn't stop the creeping suffocation pressing down on him.
Is it poison? Or that staff's ability…?
"Finally noticing?" the Uchiha murmured.
"What…?"
"You took your time realizing it. If this continued for a few more minutes, you'd have died under my Shikai's effect, Jiraiya."
The red-eyed Uchiha shook his head with quiet disappointment.
"My teammate's ability isolates a spiritual domain. Mine… isn't simply fire. You underestimate the nature of a soul's reflection."
He held the burning branch before his chest, his eyes softening — not with pity, but with something heavier.
"Mimicry Shikai — Katsujin. Its ability converts oxygen into fuel, storing it within the blade and releasing it as explosive force. The faster I move, the more oxygen I absorb — and the stronger my strikes become."
He took a step closer.
"You're wondering why, even in open air, you're suffocating. That's because it doesn't strip the environment's oxygen. It strips your soul's recognition of oxygen. Your lungs refuse to acknowledge breathing — and that denial attaches itself to my attacks."
The branch flared crimson.
"The flames consuming this forest aren't my fire. They're the manifestation of your life force — your instinct to survive turning into combustion. The harder you fight, the more violently it burns… and the less you can breathe."
"If you can't find a countermeasure soon, you'll suffocate to death — within five minutes."
Jiraiya's vision blurred. His chest heaved. No way out.
If he dropped the Still Blood Armor, the spiritual flames would devour him instantly. But keeping it up drained his chakra and prevented him from forming complex jutsu. Summoning was sealed, Sage Mode unreachable, and defense jutsu required too much concentration to maintain alongside the armor.
Slow, inevitable death — that was the logical outcome.
But… was this really how it ended?
"Why…" Jiraiya rasped, "why tell me all that? Why reveal your ability at all?"
"Why?" The Uchiha tilted his head. "What other reason could there be?"
A flash of pain crossed his gaze — almost human.
"Because I want you to win, Jiraiya! What you're seeing is barely a fifth of our power. If you can't even push us past this… how can I have hope for you?"
"What… are you talking about?"
"If you could kill us — free us from this wretched cycle — that would be ideal."
In an instant, he appeared in front of Jiraiya again. The burning branch knocked aside Jiraiya's sluggish punch and leveled at his forehead.
"But with your current strength, you can't. You need to understand what kind of forces exist in the shadows of this world. Something far beyond you is watching, manipulating… waiting."
His voice softened.
"You must live, Jiraiya. Warn them. Gather knowledge. Only those who survive have the right to face the truth."
"You've lasted nearly twenty minutes against me — impressive for a human. But still… not enough."
He gripped his own wrist tightly. The air grew heavy.
"Mimicry Progression—"
BOOM!
The ground cracked. Pressure slammed down like a mountain, forcing Jiraiya to his knees. The sky darkened with falling ash.
Everything — the forest, the air, even color — turned to gray.
Ash rained from above like the remains of a dead world. Among it, faint embers flickered red — a fragile, lingering spark of life amid desolation.
"...Bankai."
The word fell like a whisper.
All things burn. Ash dances.
The withered blade began to crumble apart — its fragments glowing like coals. Jiraiya's breath hitched; oxygen abandoned him entirely. The world twisted beyond reason—
"Calamity's End, Burning Ruin—"
"...Don't."
A hand stopped him.
Another figure stood beside him — long, pale hair flowing under a white mask. Quietly, the man caught his wrist, halting the invocation.
In Jiraiya's stunned gaze, the newcomer dropped two unconscious bodies onto the ground — Tsunade and Orochimaru.
"If you use that here, he'll notice. We can't die yet."
"...You're right."
The ash-filled sky cleared instantly. The Uchiha lowered his weapon, the embers fading.
He looked down at the three fallen Sannin and sighed.
"Tell Konoha — tell every shinobi in the world — beware of their shadows. Beware the dead. Beware the one closest to you."
"Something far more terrifying than any ninja lurks within the darkness. Only by uniting can you resist it. But you won't understand yet. None of you can."
He turned away, voice distant.
"Remember this feeling, Jiraiya. Until we meet again."
The Uchiha glanced once more at the collapsed white-haired shinobi, whose face had turned an ashen purple, clutching his throat. A flicker of regret crossed his eyes.
Then, together with the silver-haired figure — the one resembling Katō Dan — they vanished into the moonlight, leaving only rippling embers behind.
The forest burned on.
And the three Sannin, battered and breathless, lay amid the scorched earth, tasting the bitterness of defeat.