Naruto: One Eye Tenseigan

Sora, while relieved to be liberated from the oppressive influence of the Kyuubi's chakra, could not suppress a gnawing apprehension. The ramifications of Tomaru's actions were immense. Should Kazuma discover the truth, his wrath would be unrelenting. To him, this was no act of salvation—it was a betrayal that dismantled years of meticulous preparation. 

Tomaru, fully cognizant of the turbulence his actions would incite, had prepared meticulously. The vast energy he had unleashed would undoubtedly ripple through the spiritual fabric of the region, alerting the attuned senses of the Fire Temple's monks. A direct confrontation was untenable, and Tomaru acted decisively, forming a kage bunshin with practiced precision.

Within the temple walls, the reaction was instantaneous. The Kyuubi's chakra, oppressive and virulent, shattered the meditative equilibrium of the monks. Even those entrenched in the deepest sanctums, masters of suppression and spiritual fortitude, faltered under the malevolent force. It was as though the sanctity of their domain had been consumed by a primordial chaos.

For the monks—guardians of harmony and spiritual custodians—this disruption transcended the physical. It was a desecration of their most sacred duty. Clad in flowing robes, they moved with urgency, their collective intent coalescing as they sought the epicenter of this profane disturbance. Many of them still bore the scars of a previous encounter, the rampage years earlier when Sora lost control. The memories were etched into their minds, lending their movements an air of grim determination.

Tomaru navigated the temple's perimeter, his movements were calculated, but his focus wavered momentarily when he noticed a young acolyte standing motionless in the distance. The boy's wide eyes mirrored fear and bewilderment, a silent testament to the chaos.

"Annoying," Tomaru muttered under his breath, irritation flickering across his visage. Without hesitation, he wove a series of hand seals. In a shimmer of moonlit chakra, dozens of shadow clones materialized around him, their forms indistinct yet menacing.

"Scatter," he ordered, his tone clipped yet resolute.

The clones dispersed with calculated randomness. Each clone veered into a separate corridor of the sprawling temple grounds, their ephemeral forms designed to disorient and distract.

The alarm bells of the temple rang out, piercing the nocturnal stillness with an urgency that reverberated through the night air. Monks emerged from their quarters in disciplined formations, their faces a blend of steely resolve and controlled apprehension. Some clutched prayer beads, their murmured chants a shield of spiritual resilience, while others wielded staves with practiced readiness. The sanctity of their domain had been violated, and they mobilized with unwavering purpose. Yet the pervasive confusion engendered by Tomaru's clones diffused their effectiveness, fragmenting their coordinated response.

Tomaru exploited this disarray with calculated efficiency. He slipped through the temple's defenses with an ease born of preparation and adaptability. His heart quickened—not with fear, but with the exhilaration of eluding his adversaries. Each step was deliberate, each decision an exercise in tactical acuity. As the cacophony of alarms receded behind him, he plunged into the enveloping stillness of the forest, his breaths measured, his objective clear. The open expanse of a moonlit meadow greeted him, its tranquility a stark contrast to the chaos he had sown. 

A robed figure emerged from the Fire Temple and moved swiftly across the grasslands, covering an impressive distance with unwavering purpose with moving at a brisk yet composed pace across the grasslands.

As he neared the dense edge of the forest, Tomaru's advance met an abrupt halt. Standing firmly in his path was a solitary monk.

It was Chiriku. Draped in austere Fire Temple robes, the aged but formidable figure bore a sash frayed with the passage of time and burdened with experience. Known as the head monk of the temple and a elite member of the Twelve Guardian Ninja, Chiriku embodied the duality of spiritual enlightenment and martial prowess, a distinction that elevated him above ordinary adversaries.

In the original timeline, Chiriku's death at the hands of Hidan and Kakuzu—mercenaries drawn by the large bounty on his head—had been a tragic inevitability. But tonight, fate had conspired to place Tomaru in his path instead.

Tomaru's lips curved faintly into a smile that spoke of quiet confidence, his relaxed stance masked a vigilant readiness, each gesture deliberate in its simplicity. "So, you decided to greet me personally," he said, his tone light, almost amused.

Chiriku's expression remained unchanged, his voice steady and firm. "So, you are the architect of this upheaval." His gaze, penetrating and unrelenting, rested firmly upon Tomaru, a fusion of scrutiny and conviction.

Tomaru's amusement deepened into a sardonic grin. His demeanor remained unflappable. "And you presume to stop me?" he replied, his tone underscored by an edge of derision that sought to probe his opponent's composure.

Tomaru deftly formed a complex sequence of hand seals, summoning a storm of myriad ice needles suspended in the cool nocturnal air. The needles glittered under the pale moonlight, their crystalline luster belying their lethality. As they hurtled toward their target, the tranquil meadow transformed into a perilous expanse, radiating the cold intensity of the impending assault.

Facing the onslaught, Chiriku remained unflinching, his stoic stance emblematic of years of ascetic training. From his being emanated an incandescent golden aura, a testament to his mastery of spiritual energy. Channeling this radiant force, he invoked the Welcoming Approach: Thousand-Armed Murder, manifesting an ethereal Kannon with countless arms extending protectively. The divine construct shimmered with preternatural brilliance, its radiant appendages intercepting the ice storm in an intricate choreography of destruction, each needle reduced to harmless shards upon contact.

Tomaru's Tenseigan pulsed faintly, his keen gaze dissecting the intricacies of Chiriku's formidable defense. The monk's chakra network, illuminated under his transcendent sight, revealed layers of sophistication and discipline in its formation. An appreciative smirk crossed Tomaru's face. This resonates with the principles underlying Hashirama's True Several Thousand Hands, he pondered, though he noted the nuanced elegance distinguishing Chiriku's method from the sheer overwhelming power of the First Hokage's technique.

With the last of the ice needles dissolved into the air, Chiriku shifted seamlessly to the offensive. The golden arms of the Kannon surged forward, unleashing strikes with the inexorable force of a maelstrom. Anticipating the barrage, Tomaru formed another series of seals, conjuring the Ice Release: Ice Rock Dome of Magnificent Nothingness. The crystalline fortress encased him, its translucent walls refracting the moonlight into fractured rainbows as they absorbed the Kannon's relentless assault.

From within the protective dome, Tomaru evaluated his adversary. Chiriku's strikes, though formidable, failed to breach his defenses. His calm smile deepened into one of subtle disdain. "As expected," he murmured softly, the words tinged with disappointment. The renowned guardian monk appeared unable to exceed Tomaru's calculated anticipations.

Chiriku, however, remained steadfast, his focus unwavering. The Thousand-Armed Kannon recalibrated its stance, radiating a quiet resilience that matched his indomitable spirit.

Tomaru's thoughts returned briefly to Kaguya's devastating power. Her Eighty Gods Vacuum Attack had not only created massive shockwaves upon impact but could also obliterate even a Six Paths Chakra Complete Body—Susanoo with ease. By contrast, Chiriku's approach lacked the same destructive potential, but its precision and spiritual fortitude were undeniable.

With a deep breath, Tomaru extended his senses, feeling the rhythm of the battle and the environment around him. He smirked. "This has been enlightening, but I have no time for games," he said, his voice cutting through the night. With a quick series of hand seals, the ice dome shattered outward, sending shards. 

Tomaru generating a controlled detonation that unleashed a barrage of razor-sharp fragments. Chiriku's Kannon shielded him seamlessly, dispersing the shards with an impenetrable array of spectral limbs.

The meadow's silence fractured as the Thousand-Armed Kannon unleashed a relentless barrage of strikes. Each golden fist descended with cataclysmic force, the ground trembling beneath their impact. Chiriku's movements were a testament to his discipline, each strike guided by precision and spiritual clarity.

Tomaru, however, moved with a preternatural fluidity. The Tenseigan's cerulean glow suffused his vision, affording him unparalleled foresight. He evaded each strike with an almost dismissive ease, his movements a masterclass in agility and foresight. To the untrained eye, his performance bordered on mockery, a calculated affront to the devastating technique.

Chiriku's eyes narrowed as disbelief flickered across his features. Until now, no one had evaded a single strike of the Thousand-Armed Murder technique, and now he faced a foe who could maneuver through its relentless onslaught so effortlessly. Observing Tomaru's unbroken calm, Chiriku's unease deepened; yet, he reasserted his focus, driven by the weight of his conviction.

Channeling his chakra, Tomaru summoned a second wave of ice needles, their erratic trajectories amplifying their menace. Their razor-sharp tips caught the moonlight as they descended upon Chiriku in a lethal cascade. The Thousand-Armed Kannon adapted instantly, Its serene visage darkened as its aura turned crimson, its arms moving faster than before. The demonic transformation of the Kannon deflected the ice needles with ease, the spiritual construct now embodying an even greater ferocity.

The battlefield became an arena of relentless intensity. Chiriku's strikes, honed by decades of discipline, clashed against Tomaru's unyielding evasions. Yet, despite Chiriku's best efforts, Tomaru continued to close the distance.

With a final surge of speed, Tomaru appeared before Chiriku, his right hand aglow with cyan chakra. The concentrated energy thrummed with raw intensity, piercing through Chiriku's defenses in one decisive motion, his hand plunged into the monk's stomach.

Chiriku's breath hitched as his chakra reserves were forcibly drained, the crimson aura of the Thousand-Armed Kannon fracturing like shattered glass. He fell to his knees, his strength utterly depleted.

Tomaru stood over him, his expression cold and detached. In his hand, the Gift of the Hermit Group chakra shimmered faintly, its stolen power now his to wield. Without a word, he turned and vanished into the night, his form dissolving into the shadows.

Behind him, the meadow was eerily quiet. The remaining monks, having regrouped after the chaos, arrived to find their leader defeated and their sacred grounds desecrated. The Fire Temple's sanctity lay in ruins, and the monks could only begin to piece together what remained as the weight of Tomaru's actions settled over them.