BOOM—
The laser that pierced straight through his chest instantly reached the far end of its line and slammed into the cliff face of a nearby mountain.
A deafening explosion—like a bolt of thunder on a clear day—rang out.
A blinding black-red flare bloomed against the rock wall, like a signal flare that had accidentally gone off course.
Strangely, despite the sheer force of the blast, no dust cloud billowed out.
Zoom in, and you wouldn't even see gravel scattering.
It was as if that earth-shaking sound had been nothing but noise—thunder with no rain—leaving the mountain untouched.
Only when the light finally faded did the true horror reveal itself: a massive circular "missing section" had been carved out of the cliff, its interior filled with spiral grooves, its edges smooth as if cut by a giant punch.
There was no dust, no rubble, because the black-red light carried an absurdly terrifying annihilation force—everything it covered had been erased into nothingness.
Hanzō staggered down, blood pouring from his mouth. A thumb-sized hole had been burned clean through his right chest. Not just skin and flesh—bone, vessels, even part of his lung tissue—had been turned into void.
"Guh—!"
He didn't even check the damage. He shunshined away at once.
The instant he vanished, another black-red laser struck the spot he'd been standing.
BOOM—
Another thunderclap explosion. Another firework-like black-red bloom.
Seeing the second shot miss, Yoru was about to chase—
when Orochimaru's voice came, closing in fast.
"Yoru. Don't."
Yoru halted mid-movement, just after landing on the ground. He turned to look at Orochimaru and Jiraiya shunshining in, a hint of confusion in his eyes.
Orochimaru's expression was grave.
"As much as I want him dead, the shinobi continent can't afford to lose the 'Demigod.' The Land of Fire least of all."
Even Jiraiya—usually loud and carefree—nodded hard.
"He's right. If Hanzō dies, the Land of Rain—the crossroads of three great nations—gets carved up. With the Land of Wind and Earth watching like wolves, we can't fully occupy it."
"Even if we did," Jiraiya continued, "we wouldn't have enough manpower to defend it from the Land of Wind to the south and the Land of Earth to the north."
"And if we split the Land of Rain with them… they'll move their border bases into Rain. Whether we move ours into Rain too, or split troops to build another base there, we lose either way."
"So Hanzō can't die. As long as he lives, Wind and Earth won't dare wipe Rain off the map. And when this war ends, if they want to fight the Land of Fire again, they'll have to go through the Land of River and the Land of Waterfall."
As he spoke, Jiraiya felt a cold sweat roll down his spine.
They hadn't expected Yoru to be able to cripple Hanzō like this.
If they'd known, they would've warned him in advance.
When they saw Hanzō coughing blood, their first reaction wasn't amazement at Yoru's new technique—it was fear that Yoru might actually kill him.
Killing the Demigod would be the greatest trophy a shinobi could claim.
But Yoru wouldn't be "praised" as a new Demigod.
He'd simply trigger the Land of Wind and Earth into celebration, and the war would escalate.
All three great nations might flood into the Land of Rain, and the watching Land of Lightning and Water could seize the chance—turning a four-nation brawl into a full five-great-nations war.
And the Land of Fire, sitting at the center with the richest resources, would become everyone's favorite target.
Flying Thunder God was troublesome… but it didn't carry the same strategic terror as the salamander.
Hanzō could unleash mass poison, move at insane speed across land and underground, and escape with reverse summoning. He operated alone—ten thousand shinobi couldn't pin him down.
Yoru, on the other hand, once his chakra ran dry, had only one option: run.
The great nations feared Hanzō.
They wouldn't fear the kid who killed Hanzō—just like nobody "feared" Tobirama enough to stop the First War from happening.
To be deified, you need something more than being hard to catch.
You need the ability to slaughter on a massive scale and still be untouchable.
Tobirama and Yoru didn't qualify.
"?"
Like last year—when Tsunade and Jiraiya thought merely injuring the salamander was a miracle—Yoru still didn't fully get their logic.
Wasn't this exactly the moment to finish him off and erase the threat forever?
Chances like this—using a new move and a pure information advantage to land a decisive blow—didn't come twice.
Yoru hadn't held back.
He just hadn't aimed for the head—same reason Hanzō didn't aim for Yoru's neck earlier. If you aim for the skull and they dodge, you get nothing.
So Yoru had gone for the chest.
Even then, Hanzō twisted in midair—turning a hit to the center of his chest into a graze through the right side.
Yoru frowned.
"If we don't press now, what if he recovers and comes back for revenge?"
Before either man could answer, a voice drifted from the rain:
"—I lost."
Orochimaru and Jiraiya tensed instantly.
Yoru looked toward the sound.
In the curtain of rain, countless droplets gathered into a human silhouette.
Hanzō.
But he didn't appear in his usual dramatic, dominant pose. He wasn't standing atop a rock looking down on them.
He faced them at eye level—staring at Yoru with a mess of emotions in his eyes:
Defeat. Frustration. Admiration. And… release.
Then he spoke to all three, voice heavy:
"This war… Konoha and the Land of Fire have won."
"As the losing side, I swear: as long as I live, the Amegakure and the Land of Rain will never declare war on the Land of Fire again—nor will we ally with the Land of Wind or Earth."
"If Konoha is willing to set hatred aside, I look forward to receiving your Chūnin Exam invitation."
"If you want revenge… I'll be here."
His gaze returned to Yoru, and he praised without restraint:
"Black Flash. It seems I chose that title correctly."
"Gojo Yoru—over these decades, you are the only one to injure both me and my partner. You are the most dazzling assassin I've ever seen. Even the Second Hokage, who created Flying Thunder God… was nowhere near you."
"I accept my loss."
"Your name will be carved into my memory forever—and I look forward to what you do next."
"As the one who defeated me… don't lose to anyone else."
And then his body melted into water.
A Water Release shadow clone.
Yoru recognized it at a glance.
Seeing that Hanzō had come only to deliver a "retirement speech," his aura utterly different—clearly shaken by the beating—Yoru finally relaxed.
He still didn't have a truly wide-area finishing move. He hadn't developed space-time teleportation without marks. To kill a peak-tier monster, he'd need information advantage again—beating or driving off was possible; killing was not easy.
Space-Time Laser was Yoru's new "info advantage."
It was a derivative of his "space-time bomb," built on: chakra control + Lightning-style Rasengan theory + space-time chakra + shape transformation + chakra burst.
He'd trained Lightning Release for this, not for Chidori or Spear.
Those techniques were just side products—tools to refine nature and shape transformation.
Failing to finish Hanzō here meant that killing him later would require another perfect window—or an even newer space-time technique to regain the information edge.
Until he had god-tier sensing (to find the real body instantly) or speed that outright crushed Hanzō, Yoru's least favorite opponent would always be assassins of the same type and tier:
One second it's the real body.
Next second it's a clone, a substitute, or a shunshin fake.
Every "kill shot" risks burning precious space-time chakra on a lie.
Compared to Hanzō's kind of slippery, dirty fighting, Yoru honestly preferred a brute like the Third Raikage.
"…It's finally over," Orochimaru and Jiraiya exhaled, both looking like they'd shed a mountain.
They were relieved in a way only commanders could understand.
They'd spent a year leading forces against a man who was a water master, a fire master, an assassination monster, and the owner of the most terrifying poison beast alive.
Nobody else knew how crushing that pressure had been.
Without Tsunade's antitoxin, and without Yoru's constant emergency saves, they would've died—over and over.
Now this front wouldn't have to face Hanzō and the Rain assassination corps anymore.
For the first time in ages, their expressions softened into genuine smiles.
Jiraiya slammed Yoru's shoulder and sighed from the heart:
"Kid… you're going into the history books. When this war is over, your name and your feats will be recorded in every nation's chronicles."
"Every kid entering the Academy from now on will know your name before they even learn the Clone Jutsu."
Orochimaru smiled too—quiet, but sincere.
"Yoru… you've surpassed me. In strength. And in reputation."
"Power isn't the same as experience," Yoru replied modestly, "and Kushina and I still have a lot to learn from you, Sensei."
"And if anyone's going into the history books… it's all three of us."
He gave Orochimaru a sidelong grin.
"Especially you, Sensei. You're the teacher of the Black Flash."
Orochimaru's eyes gleamed with pride.
He was more satisfied than he'd ever been.
From the moment he learned Yoru held a space-time bloodline, Orochimaru's dream had shifted:
Not Hokage.
But guiding Yoru into becoming the next "God of Shinobi."
If Yoru became that, there would be no more wars in Orochimaru's lifetime.
And he could use that peace to reform the world—so tragedies like his parents, or Nawaki, would never happen again.
In his mind, it was simple:
Space-time had the potential to break every rule.
At twelve, most kids were just graduating the Academy.
Yoru had defeated the Demigod.
By adulthood… no, before adulthood… the shinobi world would be his.
Jiraiya, watching Orochimaru bask, felt an unfamiliar sourness in his chest.
Orochimaru had stepped in dog shit luck and found a student like this.
At the same time, Jiraiya made a decision:
Next time he returned to Konoha, he had to redeem a Flying Thunder God scroll for Minato.
During that sword duel, Jiraiya had seen that familiar shadow again—the same insane reflexes Minato had shown during the bell test.
If reflex speed was the key…
Maybe Minato really could learn it.
At least his odds were far better than Jiraiya's or Orochimaru's.
…
Meanwhile, elsewhere…
The real Hanzō was coughing blood, nothing like the calm clone that had delivered the speech.
His wound and mouth bled nonstop. His Body Flicker slowed. His life force thinned.
If it continued, he might die before reaching the village.
Don't be fooled by the hole being "thumb-sized."
A through-and-through wound could be fatal, like an arrow you can't pull out until a medic arrives.
And his chest had been pierced clean through.
He didn't dare stop to treat it properly, didn't dare summon his partner, and didn't even dare risk slowing down.
Because he didn't know if that black-red beam would come again.
If it hit the salamander's massive body, it wouldn't pass through—it would detonate.
And that annihilation force would kill the beast on the spot.
That beast was the foundation of his deterrence.
Cautious to the bone, Hanzō spiraled—suspecting traps, imagining pursuit, hesitating at every choice.
Only after running far enough that his body finally refused to go on did he duck into a random cave to treat himself.
"…H-Hanzō-sama?!"
By cruel coincidence, someone was living there.
An orange-haired boy.
Hanzō's first instinct was to kill him—no witnesses, no risks.
But hearing the honorific and seeing the boy's shocked excitement, Hanzō narrowed his eyes.
"You're Land of Rain?"
"Yes! I'm Yahiko. From the Amegakure. My parents died in last year's raid…"
Seeing Hanzō clutching his bleeding chest, Yahiko's face tightened with panic.
"Hanzō-sama, you're hurt?!"
Hanzō didn't waste words.
"I need you to do something."
He shoved a signal flare and a scroll into Yahiko's hands.
"Fire this near the village perimeter. Then hide this scroll somewhere—anywhere. After you're done, leave. If you succeed, you'll be rewarded."
"Yes, Hanzō-sama!"
Yahiko bolted out.
Hanzō didn't stay there.
He moved to another cave, made a shadow clone to seal the entrance and raise a barrier, and had the real body begin emergency treatment.
But he'd lost too much time.
Even with field medical tools, he only managed to stop the bleeding.
Before he could finish, he collapsed unconscious.
The moment the real body fell, the clone dissolved.
Hanzō's life force began draining.
And then—
A white figure rose from the earth, ignoring the barrier.
"…Lucky bastard," a White Zetsu muttered. "Be glad you still have value."
It took over the treatment.
Just like the year Konoha's trio and Yoru fought Hanzō, the battlefield was never truly "five people."
There were always eyes in the dark.
Madara heard the result almost immediately—and just like Orochimaru and Jiraiya, even if they hadn't stopped Yoru, Madara would have ordered intervention.
If Hanzō died, the shinobi world would erupt out of control.
That would disrupt Nagato's growth.
Even chaos had to wait until Nagato could protect himself.
So Hanzō was saved.
White Zetsu's method was brutal and direct:
It used Spore Technique—swelling into a mass that wrapped Hanzō—then pumped chakra into him like an accelerated Vitality heal, rapidly repairing the fatal injury.
It didn't transfuse blood.
It simply vanished into the ground again and watched.
Less than two hours later, Sagawa arrived, broke the barrier, and carried Hanzō away.
Zetsu followed.
…
And then, within a day, news spread from Rain to the Fire border… and across the entire four-nation warzone, then rippled outward to the whole shinobi world:
The Land of Rain announced its withdrawal.
Not because supplies ran out.
Not because the walls were breached.
But because their "Demigod," Hanzō the Salamander, had been defeated one-on-one by Konoha's Black Flash—
Gojo Yoru.
Rain publicly confirmed it.
And they published Hanzō's promise: Rain would never again declare war on the Land of Fire in his lifetime, nor ally with Wind or Earth.
Just like last year—when he sacrificed his own reputation to "elevate" Yoru onto the stage—
Hanzō sacrificed his name again, letting Yoru step on him and climb to the peak.
It was the only "gift" he could give his temporary allies.
And it was also his revenge:
If you don't want to live in this kid's shadow, then kill him—by any means necessary.
Hanzō took decades to climb from a small village shinobi to the top.
Now he burned himself to light Yoru up.
Whatever his true motive, his admission and Rain's exit made Yoru's already infamous name explode again.
The war hadn't even reached two full years.
Konoha's three-front situation had lasted barely over a year.
And in that time, no death of a "headline legend" had shaken the world the way this did—
Gojo Yoru became the most dazzling figure of the war.
And his presence immediately changed the other two fronts:
Sand and Stone fell strangely quiet.
Because even if Konoha couldn't split its armies…
Flying Thunder God meant Yoru could.
He could reinforce a front, then instantly return.
He could move key personnel.
He could turn every crisis into a whiplash counter.
Unless Wind and Earth chose to withdraw too, they'd have to gather brand-new intelligence and reconsider everything.
A long, grinding tug-of-war was inevitable.
Until allied reinforcements were needed, the three defenders of the western line entered a temporary rest period.
Jiraiya escorted the fallen back to Konoha.
Orochimaru stayed behind to rebuild the border base with ninjutsu.
And as for Gojo Yoru—
~~~
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