guardian of the storm | ✓

Chapter Forty-Seven ~ Natural Disaster

~Chapter Forty-Seven~

Minato Namikaze had seen a lot in his lifetime. He fought during a war, lost many friends, married the woman of his dreams who was the previous carrier of the Nine-Tailed fox, and he was now revived to fight alongside his son during the next Great War. He'd seen a lot of death, more than he would've liked to witness, but never before had he been so panicked about someone who was going to die.

Yes, he'd been panicked before.

Yes, he'd done reckless things to try and save them.

But never before had the ninja whose life was on the line been his son.

It didn't take them long to realize what had to be done, but what would've been a manageable task turned into something nearly impossible because of the man known as Madara Uchiha. While Obito had a revelation of sorts and was doubting his actions, that man was still set on destroying them all if it meant he could achieve his dream. He looked down on them, clearly thinking that they were beneath them, but at the moment Minato was so furious that he didn't really care.

All he could feel was his son's chakra fading away with every second that ticked by, his heartbeat growing slower and slower. All he could think about was how Naruto couldn't die, how he had so much potential and that he didn't deserve to die. And all he could do was make shitty attacks against Madara.

The ground trembled.

The sky roared.

And Winter Ookami descended upon them with such a fury that Minato was left speechless.

Her eyes were closed, her entire demeanor changed. He could feel the sheer amount of chakra pulsating underneath her skin, he felt the smell of a cool night and a snowy mountain sweep over the area, and her eyes, gods her eyes, one with the brilliant turquoise, but the other that had been covered was red. A bright, glaring red that looked like freshly spilled blood on a white canvas.

She was no longer an ordinary human, not like that. She was light years ahead of the shinobi here on the battlefield, and she was directing all of her negative energy at the man who had started the war.

"Madara." Her voice had an animalistic tone to it, her nails glinting in the light, her ebony hair swallowing up any light that touched it. She's hovering an inch above the ground, her hair rippling in an invisible wind, the ground cracking underneath her. The melted crown shines brightly, almost an embodiment of darkness itself, seeing how the black could be seen even darker than her hair.

Madara looked at her, his face blank of any emotion. "I remember your clan now. The Ookami's... they always were a rowdy bunch. I even remember seeing them in a similar state as you are now, but very few radiated this much chakra. I'm assuming you found a much stronger being than they did."

She's deathly quiet as she slowly descends that final inch to the ground.

As soon as her toes brush against the ground a deafening crack sounds out, the earth beneath her feet splintering as she stands. Silver chakra unfurls around her in one sudden wave, cloaking the area in its ethereal glow, the chakra pulsating and moving.

And then she lunges.

She moves swiftly, as if the wind is at her back, pushing her to go forth at new speeds. The telltale red and white lighting envelopes her hands, Taketi appearing. The scythe slices through the air with ease, blood lust seeping off of it and filling the area. A resounding boom echoed throughout the air as the scythe hits the ground where Madara was a split second before, the earth shuddering and parting from the power. Without missing a beat, Winter presses her palm against the flat circle bottom of the handle, vaulting over the scythe, her foot encased with the same silver chakra as it kicks Madara in the head.