Itachi, understanding the gravity of the moment, addressed his team without turning his back on the threat. "Sasuke, Sakura, Kiba," he began, his tone commanding yet calm, "stay behind me at all times. Do not engage unless absolutely necessary." His instructions were clear, borne out of a deep sense of duty to safeguard the future of Konoha—a future that rested, in part, on the shoulders of the young shinobi behind him.

Sasuke, his eyes wide with the realization of the peril they faced, nodded silently. The presence of Orochimaru, a name synonymous with treachery and power, invoked within him a complex whirlwind of emotions. Yet, it was Itachi's resolve, the silent strength emanating from his brother, that grounded him.

Sakura and Kiba, though less aware of the intricate dynamics at play, recognized the seriousness of the situation. Their trust in Itachi was absolute, their determination to follow his lead unshakeable.

Without any prior signal, Itachi's form blurred into motion, hands weaving through seals with a speed that left Sakura and Kiba in awe; even Sasuke, with his Sharingan, struggled to keep pace. A gargantuan fireball roared from Itachi's lips, a dragon of flame aimed squarely at the midst of their adversaries, its intent clear: to divide and conquer.

The trio scattered, as intended, but Itachi's focus narrowed on the blonde—Deidara. Their eyes locked, and without a moment's hesitation, Itachi plunged them both into the depths of Tsukuyomi. The world around Deidara shifted imperceptibly; to him, the battlefield remained unchanged, unaware of the genjutsu's embrace.

Inside this illusionary realm, Itachi crafted a scenario free from the constraints of reality, a battlefield where time and space bent to his will. Yet, to Deidara, it appeared as nothing out of the ordinary—a continuation of their confrontation, with one critical difference: he was compelled, subconsciously, to showcase the breadth of his abilities.

Deidara, believing himself still in the throes of battle, unleashed his art. Clay molded in his palms, taking the forms of spiders, birds, even a dragon, each imbued with his chakra. They soared towards Itachi, exploding upon impact or command, a display of destructive beauty that left the illusionary landscape scarred and cratered.

Itachi, an observer within his own jutsu, analyzed every detail. The way Deidara manipulated his chakra, the seals used to activate the clay, the varying intensity of the explosions—it was all invaluable intelligence. With a mental nod, he prepared to turn this knowledge against their enemies.

The genjutsu faded, Deidara none the wiser to the truth of his situation. He found himself momentarily disoriented, the seamless transition back to reality leaving him unsure of the interlude's authenticity.

Only a second passed in reality, though for Deidara, it stretched into hours of intense combat against Itachi next to Orochimaru and Sasori. This temporal distortion, a signature of the Tsukuyomi, afforded Itachi a deep dive into Deidara's capabilities and weaknesses. When he finally released Deidara from the genjutsu's grip, the physical toll on Itachi was evident, albeit subtly. Sweat beaded his forehead, a rare show of strain, but his focus never wavered. With a swift shift in tactics, he ensnared Deidara in a simpler genjutsu, transforming Sasori into his own image in the blonde's perception.

Deidara, now thoroughly convinced that Sasori was Itachi, charged with a frenzied vigor, hurling insults and threats. "You think you can beat me? I'll blow you to smithereens!" he shouted, his hands deftly forming the signs for another of his clay creations.

Sasori, taken aback by the sudden assault, attempted to retaliate, his voice lost amidst Deidara's relentless attack. "Deidara, stop, it's me!" he tried to reason, but to no avail. The puppet master, despite his extensive combat experience, found himself on the defensive against an ally, his shouts drowned out by the explosions that followed.

Meanwhile, Itachi, seizing the momentary chaos, directed his attention towards Orochimaru, his blade drawn and ready. The air between them crackled with anticipation, a silent acknowledgement of the battle that was about to unfold.

Orochimaru's response was a smirk, his tongue flicking out in a grotesque mimicry of anticipation. "Let's see if your Mangekyo can live up to its legend, Itachi Uchiha," he taunted, his own hands moving to counter the imminent threat.

During their confrontation, Itachi's gaze hardened, his Sharingan spinning with deadly intent. With Sasuke, Sakura, and Kiba behind him, he needed to protect them at all costs. Without a word, he trapped them in a Genjutsu, a world of calm, far from the battlefield's chaos. This move wasn't just for their safety but also to conceal his next action, a technique so devastating and secret that even the slightest knowledge of it couldn't be leaked.

Itachi took his position deliberately, allowing Orochimaru the illusion of an upper hand as he unleashed Amaterasu. His movements, carefully measured, seemed to provide Orochimaru with ample opportunity to evade. Yet, as Orochimaru darted aside, a shriek of agony tore through the air. He twisted around, only to witness Hiruko, Sasori's cover puppet, enveloped in the unquenchable black flames. Sasori had already abandoned Hiruko, now standing before Deidara, intercepting his frenzied attacks with a calculated calm. Orochimaru's lips curled into a sneer of realization; Itachi's true target had been Sasori all along, banking on Orochimaru's evasion. With a snort of disdain, Orochimaru lunged once more into the fray, his intent clear and murderous.

Itachi, with the unfolding situation escalating into dire straits, recognized the urgent need to level the playing field. As Orochimaru and Sasori revealed the depths of their abilities, Itachi's mind raced, calculating his next move. However, the moment he discerned Sasori's true nature through the piercing gaze of his Sharingan, his expression darkened. The challenge they posed intensified, pushing Itachi towards a decision he had hoped to avoid—unleashing Susano'o, a technique as formidable as it was taxing. The ramifications of its use weighed heavily on him, but the immediate threat demanded nothing less.

Just as Itachi was poised to call forth the spectral protector, the battlefield's dynamics shifted dramatically. A blur of white tore through the sky, descending with the force of a comet. Landing with a grace that belied his power, Jiraiya, the Toad Sage, made his presence known. "It has been some time, hasn't it, Orochimaru?" he called out, his voice a blend of challenge and an almost nostalgic taunt.

Orochimaru, momentarily taken aback by the sudden intervention, quickly masked his surprise with a familiar smirk. "Jiraiya. Why is it you and Tsunade always appear at the most inconvenient times?" His question, rhetorical and edged with irritation, underscored the long and tumultuous history shared between the former teammates.

Jiraiya, undeterred by Orochimaru's mocking tone, replied with a smirk of his own. "Perhaps it's fate, or maybe we just can't stand the idea of missing out on all the fun," he quipped, readying himself for the inevitable clash. His arrival wasn't just timely; it was a game-changer, evening the odds in a battle that had teetered dangerously close to catastrophe. With Jiraiya now standing beside him, Itachi felt a surge of relief, though he remained wary.

Just as they were about to engage once more, the atmosphere tensed for a showdown; Orochimaru, Sasori, and Deidara shifted their stance. In a sudden turn of events, Orochimaru's snake-like arm coiled around Deidara, signaling a retreat. "I learned what I came to learn. We no longer need to battle," Orochimaru declared, his voice laced with a hint of satisfaction, before they vanished from sight. Jiraiya, assessing the situation, decided against pursuit, a decision that Itachi, concerned primarily with the safety of his Genin, silently concurred with.