Forged Beyond

Rinne Rebirth

(Short Chapter)

Hashirama's brows furrowed, the weight of centuries behind his gaze. The red torii gates of his Shisekiyōjin technique—those colossal bindings meant to subdue the divine—slammed into Obito one by one, stacking over him like the sealing of a myth. For a heartbeat, silence ruled.

Then the impossible happened. A ripple surged through the air.

The gates cracked.

The next moment, they burst apart, fragments of ancient chakra scattering like burning sakura petals. Gasps echoed through the battlefield. The barrier followed, crumbling into splinters of light. A wave of power pushed outward like a breath from a god.

Obito stepped through the debris. His eyes were not of man or monster—but something in between. Something lost.

Team 7 tensed.

Minato's stance shifted, reflexes honed by war. But before they could move, Hiruzen and the clones of Tobirama and Hashirama appeared, placing themselves between the oncoming threat and the next generation.

"Minato, take them," Hiruzen ordered, firm but grave.

Minato nodded. His kunai flicked from his fingers—space bent. In a flash of shifting reality, he, Team 7, and Gamakichi vanished, reappearing far from the crumbling barrier.

Tobirama moved. A string of explosive tags followed, each tag multiplying into a cluster that bloomed into another. Layers upon layers. An art of destruction born from precision and legacy.

The light that followed forced even seasoned shinobi to shield their eyes. Dust clouded the battlefield. From within it, Hiruzen emerged with a giant shuriken glowing with wind-natured chakra. He hurled it with purpose—one weapon becoming many, splitting in midair.

Obito didn't flinch.

A black rod—formed from truth-seeking orbs—extended like a lance from his palm. He moved with terrible clarity, slicing through each shuriken. In a single stride, he reached Hiruzen. His palm pressed against the old man's face—calm, deliberate.

A glimmer passed through the rod. It shortened, then vanished into a pinhole.

A silent detonation.

Hiruzen's upper body disintegrated, particles scattering like ash in the wind.

"Old man!" Naruto cried out, stepping forward.

Sasuke's voice was sharp. "Shut up and observe. Edo Tensei bodies regenerate. The Hokage is testing his limits."

Minato's jaw clenched, but he nodded. "He's right."

Naruto lowered his fists reluctantly, his voice low. "Tch..."

Beside them, Sakura's grip around her axe handle tightened, white-knuckled. She didn't speak—but her stance deepened, a coiled spring ready to strike.

Hashirama moved to rejoin the fray, but Madara intercepted him. His voice thundered across the shattered field.

"I'm done waiting, Hashirama!"

Their clash lit the distance, but the ground near Team 7 grew suddenly colder.

Obito was there.

He hadn't moved so much as appeared—one breath he was distant, the next he was before them. Both hands out, palms pressed against Naruto's and Sasuke's faces.

Thanks to the shockwave of chakra, Minato was thrown aside, skidding across the ground like a broken statue.

Sasuke's Sharingan narrowed—but there was no time to react.