The Frost Sanctum smelled of ozone and arrogance.
Sasuke stood on the slick, dark tiles, his chest heaving as he watched Naruto struggle to rise. The gear-shaped device on the dobe's stomach was whining—a high-pitched eeee-rrrt that set Sasuke's teeth on edge. Violet arcs of electricity jumped from the metal to Naruto's skin, leaving scorch marks on the orange fabric.
"Naruto, just wait a second," Sylvie's voice cut through the hum of the machinery. She was kneeling, her hands glowing with a diagnostic green aura, but she wasn't touching him. "Maybe we can do something about this thing."
"The armor has a limit on its absorption rate," Neji stated, his Byakugan veins bulging as he analyzed Dotō across the room. "Tenten. Unlock Naruto. It's time to engage. If he hits it with too much energy at once, the blue tubing might start to glow white or fracture."
"Right," Tenten nodded, her eyes scanning the room's industrial perimeter. She pointed to a hiss of steam venting from a cracked brass fitting near the floor. "Sylvie, try to short-circuit the device using that exposed geothermal leak. We can use the environment to ground the connection."
Sasuke tuned them out. Batteries. Shorts. Leaks. They were talking like mechanics fixing a broken toaster.
He looked at Dotō Kazahana.
The usurper stood on the dais, the cyan light from the ice screen backlighting his massive, armored frame. He was adjusting the black gauntlet on his left hand, looking bored. The blue tubing on his chest pulsed with a rhythmic wub-wub-wub, a slow, confident heartbeat of stolen power.
"ACTION!" Makino screamed from the sidelines, his camera lens zooming in with a mechanical whir-click.
The room exploded into motion.
Nadare moved first. The heavy-set ninja flicked his wrist, launching a kunai straight at Kakashi's head. Kakashi deflected it with a lazy swing of his iron plate, sending the blade skittering across the floor.
SH-CHUNK.
The moment the kunai touched the tile, it erupted into a jagged, three-meter spike of ice, forcing Kakashi and Anko to leap backward, separating them from the main group.
"Wait your turn," Nadare sneered, stepping into the gap.
To the right, Tenten sprang to Neji's side, unrolling a scroll as Fubuki and Mizore moved to intercept them.
The path to Dotō was open.
Sasuke's eyes narrowed. The tyrant was distracted, his gaze flickering toward the camera lens, preening for his close-up.
I can end this, Sasuke thought, the familiar cold fire igniting in his gut. One strike. Precision over power. Just like I planned for Itachi.
He didn't hesitate. He dropped into a sprinter's crouch, channeling chakra into his left hand. The air around him screamed.
Chirp-chirp-CHIRP-SCREEE.
The Chidori roared to life, a condensed mass of lightning that turned the dim room a blinding blue. Sasuke launched himself forward. He was faster than he had ever been, his legs pumping, his Sharingan tracking every micro-movement of the enemy.
"DAMMIT KID, STOP!" Anko screamed from the periphery.
"SASUKE, NO!" Kakashi's voice was desperate.
Sasuke ignored them. They were background noise. He was the Avenger. He was the blade.
He closed the distance in a heartbeat. Dotō turned, his eyes widening slightly—not in fear, but in recognition.
Sasuke thrust his hand forward, aiming dead center for the Yin-Yang core on the breastplate.
THRUMMM-ZZZTT.
There was no tearing of metal. There was no spray of blood.
Instead of piercing the armor, Sasuke's hand stopped as if he had punched a wall of dense rubber. The screeching birds of the Chidori fell silent, replaced by a sickening, low-frequency vibration that rattled his bones.
The blue tubing on Dotō's chest flared blindingly bright. The vents on his shoulders hissed, venting a cloud of superheated steam.
It's drinking the lightning.
Sasuke tried to pull back, but his hand wouldn't move. A magnetic field generated by the overload had clamped his gauntlet to the breastplate. He was stuck, staring up into the face of a man who looked like he had just enjoyed a refreshing drink.
Dotō didn't even flinch. He looked down at Sasuke with clinical disappointment.
"Lightning Release," Dotō noted, his voice amplified by the suit's speakers. "High amperage. Inefficient delivery. Thank you for the recharge, boy."
Sasuke's breath hitched. "?!"
Dotō's free hand—the massive black gauntlet—shot out and clamped around Sasuke's left wrist, right over the Chidori contact point.
K-TCHK.
The sound was wet and sharp, like a tree branch snapping in a storm.
Sasuke's vision white-outed for a second as his radius and ulna were crushed together. The agony was absolute, bypassing his training and going straight to his nervous system.
"Such a small twig," Dotō smirked.
The tyrant didn't let go. He pulled Sasuke in, destabilizing his stance, and delivered a short, chakra-enhanced backhand to the ribs.
SNAP.
The sound echoed off the high ceilings. It wasn't a crack; it was a structural failure.
Sasuke was launched across the arena. He flew twenty feet, skipping once off the polished tiles before slamming back-first into the stone wall beneath the dais.
WHAM.
He slid down the wall, leaving a smear of dust and blood, collapsing into a heap on the floor.
"SASUKE!" Sylvie's scream was shrill, terrified.
Tenten shuddered, missing a beat in her defense against Fubuki.
Sasuke lay on the cold tiles, his chest burning with every shallow breath. Get up. He forced his trembling arms to work. He coughed, and a splatter of bright red blood hit the grey floor.
Kakashi blurred past Nadare, landing beside him. "Sasuke—"
"Get... off..." Sasuke wheezed, shoving Kakashi's hand away with his good arm. He barely managed to prop himself up on his elbows, his body shaking violently.
He looked across the room. Neji was parrying a blow from Mizore, but the Hyūga spared a glance toward the wall. Neji scowled, his pale eyes narrowing.
Broken again, Sasuke heard the thought as clearly as if it were spoken. How many times will it take, Uchiha?
A mechanical whir drew Sasuke's attention.
Makino. The Director was standing ten yards away. He looked at Sasuke—broken, bleeding, defeated—and frowned. Then, with a callous wave of his hand, he motioned to Yomu.
The camera panned away.
Sasuke watched, his vision blurring, as the lens ignored him completely. He wasn't the protagonist. He wasn't even the villain. He was just B-roll. Cut content.
The camera focused on the center of the room.
Naruto was standing up.
The blonde boy was hunched over, clutching the sparking device on his stomach. He wasn't screaming anymore. He was growling—a low, feral rumble that vibrated through the floorboards.
The blue chakra visible in the tubing of the device flickered, then turned a harsh, violent vermilion.
Fox energy leaked from Naruto's skin, bubbling like boiling oil.