The Shinobi Allied Forces' United Effort

"OOH—"

The roar surged across the battlefield like a tide, each wave higher than the last. The hands raised over the ninjas' heads formed a swaying forest in the morning light. Every finger trembled faintly, yet not a single hand came down.

Naruto stood atop a pile of rubble, holding up that trembling hand. In his golden eyes was reflected the black-and-white figure standing atop the Ten-Tails' head. Against the Ten-Tails' blood-red glow, that figure resembled a silent statue, utterly motionless. But he knew—Obito was watching him.

Obito truly was watching Naruto.

The battlefield's clamor, the trembling roar of the crowd, the surging Chakra of the Ten-Tails—all of it receded to the edges of his senses. All that remained was that blond-haired boy and the hand he held above his head, still trembling.

Obito's Sharingan turned slightly in its socket. The Mangekyō pattern flickered within its dark crimson glow, like a star that could go out at any moment, yet might burst into flame again just as easily. His lips pressed into a thin line. The three scars on his expressionless face appeared especially vicious, but his right hand—the one holding the Black Receiver—had already loosened completely inside his sleeve. His fingers were no longer clenched into a fist. They simply hung slackly, as though he had let something go, or as though he still had not decided whether to let it go.

The corner of his mouth twitched.

Then he spoke. His voice was not loud, but empowered by the Ten-Tails' Chakra, every word exploded across the battlefield like thunder.

"Are you finished talking?"

The cries of "Ooh!" rising and falling across the battlefield gradually died down. The ninjas looked up at the man standing atop the Ten-Tails. His robe snapped in the wind, and the red light in