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As Second Tsuchikage 35
🕑 Added 2025-07-25 16:00:10 +0000 UTCChapter 35: Barbecue
Hashirama Senju felt a headache pressing in behind his temples. Fighting Madara had always been straightforward, which is raw power clashing against raw power.
The two of them could unleash everything, trading devastating blows like wild beasts, reveling in the battle. But this... this was nothing like that. His current four opponents were all tacticians, the calculating type, the kind Tobirama would’ve found most troublesome.
If Mū could hear his thoughts, he would’ve agreed completely. But what Hashirama didn’t realize was that his information was already outdated. If Mū had still been without Sage Art, Hashirama’s strategy might have worked, monitoring the real body while the clone remained a non-threat. But he had no idea Mū had already advanced beyond that.
He hadn’t witnessed their second battle either, so he still believed, as before, that only the original Mū could use Particle Style. That was the danger of incomplete intelligence.
“Looks like the one below is the real body,” Hashirama muttered, adjusting his stance as he dropped toward the earth.
At that moment, high above, Mū suddenly emerged from the sky. The instant he activated his Particle Style technique, his Transparent World jutsu dispelled, revealing his position to all. A massive cube of destructive light expanded outward.
“Particle Style: Atomic Dismantling Jutsu!”
The four Hashirama Wood Clones on the ground reacted instantly.
“Wood Style: Nativity of a Sea of Trees!”
Vast forests surged upward to intercept the cube, but against a force like Particle Style, even those trees were disintegrated at the atomic level. The clones didn’t stand a chance.
Hashirama’s eyes widened. That shouldn’t have been possible. Both bodies could use Particle Style? That revelation changed everything. He had been completely wrong.
“In that case... I have no choice but to use that technique…”
His thoughts wavered.
There was one jutsu he had sworn never to use lightly. He hadn’t even unleashed it against Madara. Its power came with a cost too high for any ordinary fight. True Several Thousand Hands: Buddha Formation. A technique even Madara hadn’t seen.
But after a breath of deliberation, he dismissed the idea. Not yet. The moment wasn’t right. That card had to stay hidden a little longer.
Instead, he went for something more immediate.
“Monster Fist!”
Because Mū had revealed himself with Particle Style, Hashirama could now track him easily. And in Sage Mode, his speed was monstrous. In an instant, he closed the distance.
Mū’s eyes narrowed sharply. “So fast!”
A crushing blow smashed into Mū’s torso, sending him flying like a ragdoll flung from a catapult. Chikamatsu reacted in the nick of time, manipulating his sand to cushion Mū’s fall and catch him in mid-air.
“I’m almost out of chakra...” Mū gasped. He was breathing heavily, clearly spent. To conserve what little chakra he had left, he canceled the split-body technique immediately. Even with the Eight Span Crow perched on his shoulder, the consumption had become impossible to maintain.
Hashirama could tell. With Sage Mode enhancing every sense, he could feel the chakra signatures of his enemies. They were running dry.
His expression turned cold and resolute. His gaze swept over them like a blade of winter wind.
“You should end your lives yourselves,” he said quietly, the words slicing into them with chilling weight.
Then, he raised his voice, calm but thunderous.
“I swear on the name of Hokage: if you end your lives here and now, I will not touch your villages. The law will not punish your people. Your villagers are innocent!”
(AN: Please bear. I have already dissed so much of this cliché shit that I am just tired. Just deal for now, as I can't find an alternative to this sentence.)
His voice echoed across the vast battlefield, filled with a weight of authority that left no room for doubt. Yet as those below heard his words, their expressions only grew heavier, tension settling like fog around them.
Mū’s eyes narrowed slightly. He was deep in thought. He had known Hashirama for a long time, knew the man was sincere, someone who never punished the many for the actions of a few. Even back then, after Madara defected, Hashirama had still accepted the Uchiha clan, never once seeking revenge against them for Madara’s betrayal.
Because of that history, Mū silently acknowledged that maybe, just maybe, Hashirama was telling the truth now.
But Hozuki Gengetsu, Shamon, and the Second Raikage clearly didn’t agree.
“Hmph! What a joke!” Gengetsu growled, his voice sharp with anger.
“The real defeat is giving up! We’re not cowards who’d just surrender!”
The Second Raikage spoke right after, his tone dripping with disdain. Both he and Shamon clearly shared Gengetsu’s defiance. They didn’t believe a word of Hashirama’s promise. To them, it was nothing more than a ruse to break their spirit.
Even if Mū wanted to believe Hashirama, he wasn’t going to take his own life, not after coming this far. He’d fought to survive with everything he had; he wouldn’t throw it all away now.
“In that case, so be it.”
“Wood Style: Wood Dragon Technique!”
“Wood Style: Wood Golem Technique!”
Hashirama didn’t hesitate. He knew their chakra reserves were nearly drained. Mū might be able to use Particle Style once or twice more, but that was it. So Hashirama unleashed his power.
Rumble...
A colossal wooden golem erupted from the earth, its sheer size rivaling a fully formed Susanoo. Towering and immovable, it loomed like an ancient god of war. Its face, fierce and monstrous, radiated a terrifying majesty. Around its body, the Wood Dragon coiled like a living serpent, hissing as it moved in rhythm with the golem’s heavy strides.
Each step the golem took sent tremors through the earth, its movements echoing like distant thunder across the battlefield.
…
On a nearby hill overlooking the scene,
“They’ve been fighting all day and night. Isn’t it over yet?” a Kirigakure jōnin muttered, lazily munching on chips.
“Still going. Chakra’s been fluctuating nonstop…” an Iwagakure ANBU replied, his gaze locked onto the chaos below.
“Shouldn’t we go help or something?”
The jōnin popped another handful of chips into his mouth, licked his fingers clean, and asked the question casually, as though they were just spectators at a show.
“You think we can actually interfere in a fight like that?” the Iwa ANBU snapped, shooting him a sharp glare. “Some random Takigakure jōnin tried to jump in earlier and got slapped out of the sky like a fly. He landed face-first in a ditch, looked like roadkill...”
As he grumbled, his eyes shifted to the bag of chips in the Kiri jōnin’s hand. They gleamed with desperate hunger.
“You bastard! Where’d you get those chips? I’m starving over here! Gimme some, ”
Before the sentence even finished, the ANBU lunged like a ravenous wolf, snatching a fistful and stuffing them into his mouth.
“Mmm... not bad,” he mumbled between crunches.
“We’re in the Land of the Waterfall,” the Kirigakure jōnin replied lazily, still chewing. “Walk a few klicks and you’ll hit a port town. They’ve got food stands all over. Plenty to eat.”
“Eh? Wait a second... where’d the Suna and Kumo shinobi go?” the ANBU muttered. He looked up, confused, glancing around as he scratched the back of his masked head.
Then it hit them.
A rich, smoky aroma drifted on the breeze, grilled meat, well-seasoned and juicy, the scent so vivid it felt like it was tapping on their foreheads.
Both the ANBU and the Kiri jōnin turned toward the source, their noses leading the way.
Not far off, in a clear patch of land, the squads from Sunagakure and Kumogakure had gathered around an enormous iron grill. Flames danced beneath it, and atop the grill were rows of skewered meats and vegetables, all sizzling as fat dripped and sparked in the fire.
That heavenly smell? It was coming from there.
“Oi oi oi! Barbecuing without inviting me?!”
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