The Birth of the Sannin

From behind the rocks high above, Nishikawa Tetsu and Namikaze Minato stared intently through the lenses of their gas masks at the hellish battlefield below.

The sounds of armies clashing were gone.

Before the potent poison of Salamander Ibuse, all beings were equal, lying on the ground, whether they were Konoha ninjas or Ame Hidden ninjas.

The ninjas who could still move had all retreated far from the area shrouded in poisonous mist.

In the dead center of that area, only three figures were still desperately holding on.

"Hah... Hah..."

Jiraiya knelt on the ground, gasping for breath. His face was covered in blood and dirt, and his signature white hair was matted to his forehead by the rain. His chakra was nearly depleted, and his hands trembled slightly, but he still stared fixedly ahead.

To his left, Orochimaru was no better off. His usually pale skin had taken on an unhealthy, ashen hue. His golden vertical pupils remained cold, but the muscles around his eyes twitched involuntarily. One of his arms hung limply, clearly broken.

And between the two, Tsunade was desperately squeezing out the last of her chakra. Green healing light enveloped the three, and she was using her own life force to maintain the team's final line of defense.

"Damn it... Is this guy a monster?" Jiraiya gritted his teeth, trying to form hand seals again, only to find his fingers felt as heavy as lead.

Opposite them.

Hanzo of the Salamander still stood atop his massive summoned beast.

The kusarigama in his hand glinted sharply. Though there were a few scorched marks on his body, his aura remained terrifyingly stable. The eyes beneath his gas mask looked down indifferently at the three young people struggling below.

It was the look one gives to three ants trying to resist an elephant.

"Not dead yet?"

Hanzo's voice was low and hoarse, echoing in the rain. "On this battlefield filled with poison gas and death, you can still stand."

"Don't... Don't look down on us!"

Jiraiya suddenly stood up, pressing his palms together. "Ninpo: Needle Jizo!"

His long white hair hardened like steel needles, wrapping around his body like a hedgehog's quills. He roared and charged at Hanzo, attempting a final, desperate gamble.

"Foolish."

Hanzo merely waved his kusarigama lightly.

"Clang!"

The chain, attached to a heavy iron ball, lashed out like a viper, precisely shattering Jiraiya's defense and slamming heavily into his chest.

"Pfft!"

Jiraiya spat out a mouthful of blood and was sent flying backward, crashing heavily into the mud and water.

"Jiraiya!" Tsunade cried out, wanting to rush forward, but Hanzo's Water Body Flicker was astonishingly fast.

The next second, Hanzo had appeared directly in front of the three.

Orochimaru's eyes sharpened.

"Shadow Snake Hand!"

But this killing blow was blocked by Hanzo with just the handle of his scythe.

"Too slow."

Hanzo swung his scythe backward, slicing through the rain and forcing Orochimaru back. At the same time, he kicked Tsunade, sending her staggering backward.

The gap in their strength was despair-inducing.

"Is this... the pinnacle of the ninja world?"

From his vantage point, Namikaze Minato watched the scene, his hand gripping his kunai slick with sweat.

His proud speed seemed pale and powerless against such flawless offense and defense.

"It's not over yet." Nishikawa Tetsu's voice was calm, but a hint of tension could be heard through his mask. "Hanzo isn't trying to kill them."

In the center of the battlefield.

The rain grew heavier.

Jiraiya, Orochimaru, and Tsunade stood back-to-back. Though they swayed precariously, not one of them chose to flee, nor did any choose to beg for mercy.

The flames of the "Will of Fire" burned in their eyes.

Hanzo looked at the three youths, and the scythe he was about to swing stopped in mid-air.

He scanned his surroundings.

In this silent land covered by poison gas, everyone else had fallen.

Only these three.

Their chakra was exhausted, their bodies at their limit, yet they stood rooted to the ground like nails.

That look... reminded him of his younger self.

Unfortunately, this was Konoha's younger generation.

"Hmph."

Hanzō suddenly put away his chained sickle, and the oppressive combat stance slowly relaxed.

"To be able to push me this far, and so young, truly remarkable."

"This war will likely be Konoha's victory, so I'll spare your lives."

Jiraiya, supported by Tsunade: "We don't need your pity. We can still fight."

"Don't say that, Jiraiya," Tsunade advised.

"All three of you are strong, and you can survive in this situation while also proving a difficult opponent for me. Give yourselves more time, and then come back stronger to challenge me."

"State your names as the price for your lives."

"Jiraiya!"

"Orochimaru."

"Tsunade."

Though weakened, the three spoke their names with resounding clarity.

"I have etched your names into my memory."

"Jiraiya, Tsunade, Orochimaru..."

Hanzō repeated the three names, as if carving them into his mind.

Then, in the rain, he made a decision that would go down in ninja history.

"I, Hanzō, shall henceforth call you Konoha's Sannin."

"Very well."

"Konoha's... Sannin?" Jiraiya was stunned.

"Live on, clinging to this title," Hanzō turned away. "As long as you live, this name will be proof of your glory, and also the root of your fear."

"This time, I'll let you go."

With a huge splash, the salamander burrowed underground, and Hanzō's figure disappeared into the vast rain curtain.

Amegakure's army also retreated.

On the empty battlefield, only three heavily wounded youths remained, having salvaged their lives from this brutal defeat.

"Did... did we win?" Jiraiya plopped down into the mud and water, staring blankly in the direction Hanzō had disappeared.

"No, we lost," Orochimaru said, clutching his arm, his eyes cold. "But we survived."

"Konoha's Sannin..." Tsunade murmured, her expression complex.

This title was both a disgrace and a medal.

It was bestowed by their enemy, signifying they had lost to Hanzō, but also that they were the only ones to survive the Demigod.

Behind a rock formation at a higher elevation.

Nishikawa Tetsu slowly removed his gas mask, taking a deep breath of air that, while still carrying the scent of blood, was no longer poisonous.

"It's over."

He looked down at the three somewhat disheveled figures below.

"This day marks the beginning of a new era for the ninja world."

"From today, the legendary Sannin are born. And we are the witnesses to this legend."

Namikaze Minato gazed at the three figures, his eyes shining with longing. "One day, I will too..."

"You will," Nishikawa Tetsu patted his shoulder. "You will be stronger than them."

The moniker of the Yellow Flash would become a nightmare in the hearts of all enemies during the Third Great Ninja War.