Main World.
Year 29 of Konoha, winter.
Valley of the End.
The barrier still stood, but it would not last much longer. Cracks covered the golden dome like a dried riverbed, like a shattered eggshell, like the back of an old man's hand. The cracks were spreading, not quickly, but visibly. Once the barrier shattered, Kinkaku would return. With more men, more Lightning Release, more death.
Orochimaru stood atop a pile of corpses, lifting his head to gaze at the barrier as it fractured.
His left arm was completely useless, hanging at his side like a withered branch. Dozens of wounds covered his body. Some had scabbed over; others still seeped blood. He had not treated them. There was no time, no medicine, no strength. His right hand still gripped his ninja blade, its edge more notches than blade. He no longer remembered how many people this blade had killed, but he remembered how many times it had blocked Lightning Release-one hundred and thirty-seven. Every one had nearly killed him.
Shinnosuke leaned against a boulder scorched black by Lightning Release. The wound on his left leg had stopped bleeding. Not because it had healed, but because he had nearly bled dry. His face was deathly pale, his lips cracked, his eyes half closed. He still held a kunai, stained with blood from Kumogakure soldiers and himself. He was still alive, but he did not know how much longer he would last.
"Lord Orochimaru." His voice was faint, like a mosquito's whine.
"Mm." Orochimaru did not turn around.
"When the barrier breaks, will Kinkaku come back?"
"Yes."
"Can we still fight?"
Orochimaru fell silent for a moment.
"Yes. As long as we're not dead, we can fight."
Shinnosuke said nothing more. He closed his eyes and leaned against the boulder. He