The Wind-Water Tornado technique marked one of Kyuushin's earliest self-made ninjutsu, predating his mastery of the Water Dragon Crushing Bite.
At first, executing it demanded his Second Gate Gene Lock to juggle the dual elements of wind and water chakra simultaneously, a feat of precise multitasking that taxed even his enhanced control. But since unlocking Ice Release, weaving those same natures had grown fluid, almost instinctive—a serendipitous overlap, given Ice's own roots in the wind-water blend.
Its potency shone through in equal measure: a versatile tool for assault and warding off threats, unleashing a barrier few could breach once fully spun up. External interruptions? Futile against its churning heart.
The caster anchored at the vortex's eye, much like a typhoon's serene core amid raging gales—outer fury untouched by the calm within. Kyuushin stood unmoved at the center, the whirlwind's roar a distant hum.
Any foolhardy challenger met ruin: jutsu dissipated in the maelstrom, tools shredded mid-flight. Venture too near, and the pull claimed you, dragging into the lethal spin.
By rank, it screamed S-level—a forbidden-tier creation, its barriers to replication sky-high. Demanding concurrent command of wind and water flows, plus reservoirs deep enough to fuel the gale? Even the Third Hokage would balk at the attempt.
Its Achilles' heel lay in scope: optimized for close-quarters havoc, ideal when foes swarmed like the pack Kyuushin had just dismantled. Distance diluted the suction, lacking a true cyclone's long-arm grasp across scores or hundreds of meters.
Teammates complicated it further; friendly proximity risked collateral in the blind whirl. Potent as it appeared, those constraints had shelved it post-invention—until today's perfect storm revived it.
Surveying the Rain shinobi scattering like startled birds, Kyuushin permitted himself a faint, satisfied smile amid the din.
His satisfaction clashed sharply with Hanzo's mounting ire.
Across the field, the Demi-God of Shinobi seethed—not mere frustration, but a blaze of shock-fueled rage amid his deadlock with the Sannin.
Kyuushin's Rain Array had already drawn his ire, the urge to intervene thwarted by Orochimaru and Tsunade's relentless pressure. He'd shrugged it off then, dismissing the redheaded youth—eleven or twelve at most, chakra likely spent after one grand display. No encore possible for such scale.
Then another chakra surge rippled the air, yanking his glance: Kyuushin again, the vortex claiming dozens more in a gory ballet. Hanzo's composure cracked, fury boiling over. Body Flicker tensed, poised to erase the anomaly.
Orochimaru's serpents lashed out preemptively, coiling to snare him mid-intent.
Hanzo's scowl deepened, blade flashing in precise sweeps to decapitate the onslaught—fangs clattering to the mud. The gambit fizzled, but it shattered his window, stalling the lethal dash.
Tsunade capitalized in a heartbeat, springing from Katsuyu's flank like a coiled spring unleashed. Her fist hurtled forward, a battering ram aimed at Hanzo's unguarded chest. Elevated on the Giant Salamander, dodge limited, he parried desperately with the scythe's haft angled as shield.
"Crack!"
The collision boomed like thunder, her strike buckling Hanzo to a kneel atop his mount. The salamander cratered into the soil, shockwaves fissuring the earth in jagged veins around them.
Hanzo bit back a groan, his chakra erupting in a violent shroud that repelled Tsunade mid-follow-up. Shaking out his throbbing limb, a rare gravity etched his features—no longer the mocking overlord.
The Sannin's synergy ground him down, denying clean breaks; any one isolated, he'd dismantle with surgical taijutsu. But their fluid teamwork turned the skirmish into a quagmire, swift kills slipping away.
No recourse left, Hanzo tunneled his focus onto the trio, sidelining the broader melee. The brawl reignited with brutal intensity—fists, fangs, and flames blurring in a deadly rhythm.
Kyuushin, blind to the crosshairs now fixed upon him, drew a steadying breath post-vortex. The technique's flair masked its lineage: the Second Hokage's vaunted A-rank arsenal, its toll evident in the cratered foes littering the ground.
His momentary breather stemmed not from depletion—chakra thrummed full—but vigilance for Minato and Nawaki.
They'd anchored with Orochimaru's group pre-engagement, but the Sannin's entanglement shifted the onus to him. A quick sweep confirmed their status: trading blows in tight harmony, no breaches in their guard. Reassured, he plunged back into the chaos, resolve hardened.
The war's blueprint etched deep: eradicate Rain's battle-ready core without quarter. Jonin or lesser crossing his path faced annihilation—felled or maimed in singular, unforgiving strikes.
The carnage bred backlash, though. After a streak of dominance, Rain survivors coalesced, wariness turning to coordinated menace. A ring tightened around him, bolstered by three auras pulsing with elite menace—clear standouts amid the fray.
Nearby Konoha allies surged to intervene, cries cutting through the roar, but enemy tides pinned them, the barrier unyielding.
Kyuushin, ensnared at the epicenter, betrayed no flicker of alarm. Amid the press, Shikaku's enigmatic farewell resurfaced, its veil lifting in the heat.
"You'll grasp it amid the storm, yeah?" he breathed to the tumult. Revelation bloomed now, edges sharpening like a whetstone on steel.
As the Rain contingent barreled inward as one, Kyuushin sealed his palms anew, chakra igniting within like a forge.
Ambient vapor rushed to him, coiling into an embryonic maelstrom that sheathed his form—a harbinger of havoc. He amplified the surge, the spiral erupting outward: base contracting to a pinpoint while the apex ballooned, birthing a colossal funnel of aqueous wrath that pierced the heavens.
The besiegers lunged to shatter the cast, blades bared and seals flying, but Kyuushin's weave outstripped them—formation too rapid for sabotage. Retreat beckoned too late; the funnel's maw yawned wide, inexorably claiming the field.
Heaven and earth seemed bridged by the phenomenon, a sentient cyclone inhaling all in reach. Within, dread crystallized: no mere aqueous torrent. Wind chakra threaded the essence, hurling the deluge to scythe-like velocities—needles of supercharged spray eviscerating hide, sinew, and spirit alike.
In mere breaths, the vortex ejected horror; Rain fringes recoiled aghast, the engulfed reduced to vaporized ruin, no remnant spared.
Those skirting the edge, untouched by the full fury, gaped in abject terror, bolting from the blood-soaked nexus, murmurs of nightmare weaving through their flight.
As the funnel ebbed, unraveling into innocuous haze, Kyuushin emerged unscathed amid the desolation—no challenger dared breach the void he'd wrought.
"Composite Ninjutsu: Wind and Water Tornado!" he intoned softly, the words a quiet proclamation amid the battlefield's roar.
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