Naruto: I'm Nine-Tails and My Host is Kushina

On the battlefield, Uchiha Madara was the embodiment of despair.

What could he possibly do now, having lost both arms?

Kurama wasn't interested in dragging this out any longer.

"Trash. Trash. All of you are trash.

The so-called God of Shinobi, Senju Hashirama. The fastest ninja of his time, Senju Tobirama. The legendary Uchiha Madara.

None of you are worth shit.

You couldn't even amuse me for five damn minutes. Pathetic losers."

Kurama sighed and spread his arms.

A gesture of pure disappointment.

He had genuinely thought that the combined strength of Hashirama and Madara would keep him entertained a little longer.

But in the end? Nothing but letdowns.

Even with their famous rivalry, their legendary status—they were all bark and no bite.

And now, Madara didn't dare to respond. He knew Kurama was right.

Even together, he and Hashirama couldn't put up a fight. There was simply no resisting Kurama.

"This ends now."

Kurama vanished with a flicker.

Instantly, he appeared behind Madara.

Time itself seemed to pause.

Madara felt it. The chill of death creeping down his spine. An icy presence looming behind him.

This wasn't like the Valley of the End. Back then, Madara had plans, contingencies, hope.

But now?

Nothing. No backup. No lifeline.

Behind him stood a Shinigami cloaked in flesh—Kurama himself.

The Truth-Seeking Orbs behind Kurama morphed into a dark, menacing kodachi.

"Shit..."

Madara's Rinnegan widened.

His instincts screamed.

One foot in the grave.

Kurama moved.

The black blade slashed through the air.

A clean, elegant cut.

Madara's head hit the ground, eyes wide open in disbelief.

Kurama clapped his hands, unimpressed, and kicked the lifeless body aside.

"Garbage. Completely useless."

And finally, the entire world understood.

The true Demon King of this era wasn't Madara.

Wasn't Hashirama.

It was Kurama.

Uchiha Madara had dared to attempt the Infinite Tsukuyomi in a world where Kurama existed.

What a joke.

Hashirama. Tobirama. Madara. All fell by Kurama's hand.

Ninjas across the globe were stunned.

This was no longer a ninja war.

It was divine judgment.

And Kurama was the executioner.

He stood alone at the peak.

And everyone knew, if Kurama truly belonged to Konoha, then no one—absolutely no one—could afford to stand against the Leaf.

The man's strength had shattered any preconceived notions of power.

Nobody would dare challenge him.

The legendary shinobi of old? Reduced to ashes.

Only one remained now.

Uchiha Obito.

Hidden far away, Black Zetsu watched the carnage unfold.

Its dreams of resurrecting its mother, Ōtsutsuki Kaguya, now hung by a thread.

If even Hashirama and Madara couldn't prevail, what hope was left?

Just Obito?

The odds were abysmal.

And the worst part?

Black Zetsu knew it.

Born from Kaguya herself, yet so utterly useless.

Ōtsutsuki Hamura. Ōtsutsuki Hagoromo.

Powerful.

Zetsu? A glorified parasite.

"Mother... I have waited thousands of years for this. I manipulated the very fabric of shinobi history, orchestrated entire generations... And just when success was in reach... That damned Kurama ruined it all."

It wept inside.

Another millennia of waiting?

Unbearable.

"Heaven... Earth... all I ever wanted was to save my mother. Why is that so hard?"

Zetsu wallowed in despair.

Until an idea hit.

Kurama.

He held the power of all nine tailed beasts within himself.

Could he—no, would he be the one to revive Kaguya?

It was a slim hope.

But it was something.

Strategy was Zetsu's only strength.

He had no chakra, no taijutsu, no ninjutsu.

But he had manipulation.

And Obito?

He was still on the board.

Kurama clapped.

"Well then, my dear disciple, all your little helpers are gone. Just you now."

Uchiha Obito stepped forward.

Unfazed.

"Sensei, both Madara and Hashirama were nothing but shadows. I am the one who will finish you."

Kurama smirked.

"As expected of my student. Still full of crap."

Obito chuckled.

"Kurama-sensei, do you know why I turned my back on Konoha? Why I chose to cast this world into an endless dream?"

Kurama gave him a flat look.

Nope.

Didn't give a shit.

But sure. Let him talk.

"It was because of Rin!"

"Shut the hell up. You don't deserve to say her name."

Kurama rolled his eyes.

Classic signs of mental instability.

"Tell me, don't tell me. Pick a damn lane."

Obito was confident.

More than that, he was arrogant.

He didn't believe himself to be weaker than Madara or Hashirama.

After all, he had Kamui.

Intangibility.

Warping.

His own Mangekyō Sharingan made him untouchable.

"Kurama-sensei, let me show you the true Perfect Susanoo."

Obito bellowed, chakra erupting from his body.

Azure energy spiraled upward, forming the massive frame of a Perfect Susanoo.

It roared.

Humanoid. Towering. Complete.

The audience across the world sighed.

Here we go again.

Another oversized chakra doll.

Madara's version was annihilated in seconds. Why would Obito's be any different?

Still, it looked cool.

But was it enough?

Not likely.

After all, Kurama had already taken down legends.

Obito's chances seemed bleak.

Back in Konoha, the shinobi who once grew up with Obito watched in awe.

Kakashi.

Asuma.

Genma.

Guy.

Kurenai.

All stared in disbelief.

Obito was no longer the dropout, the loser.

He had become something else.

A threat.

A god among mortals.

But was it enough to stand against that god?

Kurama had crushed everyone before him.

Now Obito stood as the last line.

And the world watched, breathless.

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