With the summoning of Triple Rashōmon, a formidable defense technique once wielded by the First Hokage, each gate stacked its power. The deeper into the gates one went, the sturdier the defense became. Kakashi's Thunder Dance, as mighty as it was, couldn't completely penetrate all three gates.
With a crackling boom, the first Rashōmon shattered like glass, obliterated by the surge of lightning. But the second gate stood resolute, blocking his advance like an unyielding wall. The intense arcs of chakra dancing around Kakashi's blade fizzled upon impact—his momentum stopped cold.
The ground trembled as the energy dispersed. Kakashi's form froze in mid-swing, his breath ragged and his arm slightly trembling from the strain.
"Hah… that… that actually blocked it?" Kakashi muttered in disbelief, sweat beading on his forehead. He hadn't expected Orochimaru to react in time—let alone erect a defense this powerful.
Kakashi had only recently begun to wield Thunder Dance, a high-level technique fusing his Chidori with precise blade movement passed down from his father's style. Though not fully mastered, it already outclassed the base Chidori in strength. It was the most destructive move in his arsenal.
He'd used it without hesitation, gambling everything on one strike. If it landed, he and Yuugao might've escaped. But Orochimaru's reaction was instantaneous. It was almost like he expected the move.
The Triple Rashōmon was no ordinary defensive ninjutsu. It was a forbidden technique, first known to be used by Senju Hashirama and later recorded in the Scroll of Seals. The fifth-level version was said to block even Tailed Beast Bombs. Few in Konoha had the chakra or knowledge to summon it. For Orochimaru to use it here confirmed Kakashi's suspicion—he had accessed the Scroll of Seals.
Of course, it made sense. Orochimaru was once the favored pupil of the Third Hokage, and his access to restricted techniques had always been an open secret. From Reanimation Jutsu to Rashōmon, all were sealed for a reason. Orochimaru had clearly helped himself to them all.
Kakashi's thoughts flickered like lightning through his mind. But now wasn't the time to dwell on scrolls or stolen knowledge. Orochimaru stood before him—not an academic problem, but a living nightmare.
He wasn't ready to die. Not today.
Orochimaru emerged from behind the second gate, his pale hands clasped behind his back, examining the damage with faint amusement.
"Impressive," he said softly. "That nearly cracked the second gate. Not quite at Sakumo's level yet, but you're close."
Kakashi's jaw clenched at the name of his father. Orochimaru spoke not as an enemy, but like a senior critiquing a student's training. Yet the killing intent in the air had only thickened.
"Fascinating little thing," Orochimaru continued, golden eyes gleaming. "I thought the Sharingan would ruin you—leave you slow, dependent. But it seems you've carved your own path. Good. Very good."
The way Orochimaru stared at him made Kakashi's stomach twist. It wasn't admiration—it was curiosity, the gaze of a scientist who just discovered a subject worth dissecting.
Kakashi's grip tightened on his sword, Chidori Blade - Chidōkaku. His breathing slowed. This was Orochimaru—a Sannin, a monster in human skin. He was terrified.
But he was also excited.
He had always wondered what fighting someone of this level would be like. Now, he knew: it was suffocating—and thrilling.
He used to think he wasn't ready. That this level of battle belonged to Jōnin commanders or the Hokage himself. But with the sword in his hand, and his chakra still flaring, a strange confidence took root.
He would not die here.
Orochimaru noticed the shift in his eyes—the fighting spirit had returned.
"Hmm… You still want to fight?" he said, intrigued. "Even now? How rare."
Then he grinned, unnervingly wide. "Very well. Let's see more."
He clapped his hands together. "Hidden Shadow Snake Hands!"
From his right sleeve, serpents launched forward—snapping, hissing, fangs exposed. Orochimaru's signature move was as grotesque as it was deadly.
Kakashi didn't hesitate. Lightning surged through his blade as he spun, slicing the snakes mid-air, leaving charred remains scattered across the grass.
But he had no time to rest.
"Wind Style: Great Breakthrough!"
Orochimaru exhaled a roaring gust of wind. The gale tore through the forest like a hurricane, uprooting trees and blinding Kakashi with debris. The wind howled—deafening, relentless.
Kakashi staggered, shielding his face. He couldn't see. At this rate, he couldn't even predict Orochimaru's movements.
"Dammit…"
There was no choice.
Sharingan—activate!
He shoved his forehead protector up, revealing the scarlet eye beneath. Instantly, the world shifted—time slowed. The blur of leaves and wind sharpened into clarity. The three tomoe spun rapidly.
Orochimaru chuckled upon seeing it. "Still relying on that eye? A foreigner wielding Uchiha power… I wonder how long it'll last before it consumes you."
His words carried disdain, but Kakashi caught something else—bitterness, perhaps. A trace of envy?
Kakashi didn't care. His chakra was draining fast—ten minutes at most with the Sharingan active. He had to move.
Shunshin no Jutsu—Body Flicker!
With a burst of chakra, Kakashi vanished. In the blink of an eye, he appeared behind Orochimaru, blade already mid-swing.
"Thunder Step Slash!"
The blade whistled through the air, striking true. Blood sprayed.
Orochimaru recoiled, clutching his left arm—a deep gash tore through flesh and muscle. For a second, his serpentine mask cracked.
He was injured.
Kakashi didn't smile. He didn't gloat. He could feel it—the shift in pressure, the rising killing intent thick as smoke.
"That technique… So you've learned Shunshin like your father," Orochimaru said, licking blood from his lips. "How many surprises are you hiding?"
Kakashi didn't respond, but even he could feel his legs shaking.
Behind them, Uzuki Yuugao stood frozen in awe. She had expected to die the moment they encountered Orochimaru. But now—Kakashi had wounded him. Actually cut him.
Her eyes widened. That slender figure in the vest and mask, once looking so ordinary, now stood like a wall between her and death.
Kakashi-senpai...
Orochimaru stared at the blood on his arm, face darkening. How long had it been since he'd bled in battle? He couldn't remember.
But he remembered this:
He hated it.
And the golden pupils of the Sannin gleamed with a rage no longer concealed behind smiles or taunts. Now there was only wrath.
The battle was far from over.