Naruto: I'm Nine-Tails and My Host is Kushina-Chapter 243 : Madara Dies

Senju Hashirama’s head and entire upper body were blown to pieces.

The same way his brother, Senju Tobirama, had died.

Seeing this scene, people all over the world fell silent.

That was Senju Hashirama!

The two brothers, Hashirama and Tobirama, weren’t just the founding pillars of Konohagakure—they were legends. The only ones capable of matching the Uchiha clan in their era.

Two from the Uchiha: Madara and Izuna. Two from the Senju: Hashirama and Tobirama.

Brother versus brother. Clan versus clan.

In every regard, the Senju brothers had held a slight edge.

But now, the man who once strode through the Warring States Period as a god among shinobi was obliterated in mere minutes by Kurama.

It was horrifying.

In Konoha, the sight struck a deep chord.

That was their Shodai Hokage. Their Nidaime.

But, given that they were reanimated corpses—mere pawns of Uchiha Madara—it softened the blow.

The true culprit was Uchiha Obito.

He had resurrected them with the Impure World Reincarnation.

And now, the people of Konoha held even greater reverence for Kurama.

Who was this man, really?

Even the combined might of Hashirama and Tobirama couldn’t scratch him.

Even Hashirama’s ultimate—Sage Art: Wood Style: True Several Thousand Hands—was useless.

People had despaired the moment the Buddha statue appeared. But Kurama? He’d turned despair into spectacle. Into hope.

Tsunade looked at the sky screen and chuckled, albeit bitterly.

Her heart was torn.

But eventually, she exhaled.

"Just two walking corpses."

Kurama’s display had even shocked her. And she’d thought she’d seen it all.

She had known he was powerful.

But this? This was something else.

Right now, only two Uchihas remained on the battlefield: Madara and Obito.

Kurama, though wielding Sharingan, didn’t share their blood—but the power coursing through him had long since transcended clan.

In the Hokage Tower, Uchiha Mikoto stood atop the roof.

Looking up at the screen in the sky, she felt vindicated.

Kurama, integrating the Sharingan’s power, was proof she had made the right choice in aligning with him.

In her heart, she cheered:

"Master Kurama, don’t hold back!"

On the battlefield, Uchiha Madara gritted his teeth.

He never imagined the Senju brothers would be taken out so fast.

To him, Hashirama had always been his greatest opponent.

It should’ve been his victory over Hashirama.

To finally rewrite the Valley of the End.

But then Kurama appeared.

Now, Madara had no arms left, and both Hashirama and Tobirama were gone.

Worse, even Hashirama’s final move had been shut down.

Madara knew it in his bones—he couldn’t defeat this man.

His trump cards? Gone.

Tengai Shinsei, Complete Susanoo—all countered.

Yes, he was a reanimation. Death wasn’t the end.

But living in humiliation?

There was a time he had Rinnegan. Nagato was his backup plan.

Black Zetsu could’ve hijacked Nagato to revive him.

That was Madara’s ultimate play.

But now?

Nagato was dead.

His Rinnegan—taken by Kurama.

So what did that leave?

Nothing.

There was no hope.

This man, Kurama, was too overwhelming.

In Madara’s mind, he was no longer just a shinobi—he had reached the level of the Sage of Six Paths.

"Limbo: Border Jail!"

Madara screamed.

There was no escape now.

Two invisible shadow clones attacked Kurama from parallel dimensions.

Tch...

Under normal circumstances, it might’ve worked.

But Kurama? Not ordinary.

"Magnet Release: Rasengan."

Two Rasengans, infused with the earth-pulling force of magnetism, spiraled directly into the dimensionally-shifted shadows.

Sealed. Just like that.

"Still feel like dancing?" Kurama smirked.

Even reanimated, without his arms, Madara was just a battered relic.

No rhythm left in that body—no dance.

"Damn you...!"

Madara roared.

Fury. Powerlessness.

It all ended the same.

Kurama didn’t even flinch.

A Tailed Beast Bomb spun to life in his palm—black, compact, and deadly.

It was small—fist-sized.

But Madara had seen this before.

That little orb had once annihilated his Tengai Shinsei.

It had leveled a full-form Susanoo.

He knew the truth.

That tiny sphere contained more raw mass than anything he’d ever seen.

Tens of thousands of tons, compressed into a single black void.

Madara tried to dodge, staggering without arms.

Too slow.

BOOM—!

The explosion shook the heavens.

Five mountains—reduced to dust.

A mushroom cloud surged upward like a divine fist.

Black smoke curled skyward.

Thunder boomed above as the sky darkened.

A nuclear winter brewed on the battlefield.

Every shinobi watching felt the same emotion: terror.

This wasn’t a Tailed Beast Bomb.

This was divine wrath.

Even a Rasengan from Minato couldn’t compare.

Kurama’s weapon was apocalyptic.

The leaders of every village stood frozen, eyes wide.

They had all once feared the Tailed Beast Bombs launched during the wars.

But now, a single tiny sphere had accomplished more destruction than dozens ever had.

Back during the Fourth Great Ninja War, a Tailed Beast Bomb had threatened entire villages.

Now?

A bomb the size of a rice ball had wiped out the equivalent of a country’s landscape.

Kirigakure’s shinobi swallowed hard.

Back then, Kurama had threatened them with annihilation unless they submitted.

Now, they realized he hadn’t even been serious.

If they had refused, there wouldn’t be a Kirigakure today.

The Five Great Nations?

They would’ve become Three.

Fire. Earth. Lightning.

That’s it.

The Mist shinobi’s skin crawled at the thought.

Their survival had been pure luck.

Terumi Mei, watching from the sidelines, bit her lower lip.

She murmured, voice trembling:

"How terrifying is this bastard...?"

She had underestimated him from the beginning.

Completely.

On the battlefield, Madara’s limp form stood like a scarecrow.

The once-mighty avatar of destruction... was nothing more than a ragdoll now.

A factory of despair.

A monument to defeat.

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