Moonlight slipped through the open window, pale and quiet, spilling across the small apartment. It settled on the figure lying awake on the bed, illuminating brown hair and the thin scar that cut across the bridge of his nose.
Iruka Umino stared at the ceiling, sleep refusing to come. His thoughts, as they often did lately, circled back to Naruto.
The boy he had failed earlier that day during the Genin Exam. The same boy who, despite multiple chances, still could not perform a simple Clone Jutsu.
Iruka exhaled slowly.
His feelings about Naruto were complicated. More complicated than he liked to admit. When Naruto had first entered the Academy, Iruka had hated him. Not because of anything the boy had done, but because of what he represented. Naruto was a walking reminder of the night Iruka had lost everything.
Twelve years ago.
Iruka had been a child then, standing at the edge of a world that was falling apart.
He remembered the Nine-Tails.
It was enormous, larger than the buildings it crushed beneath its claws. Its fur was the color of burning embers, its eyes like twin suns filled with rage. Each roar shook the air itself, rattling his bones and drowning out every other sound. The ground had trembled constantly that night. Houses collapsed. Fires spread unchecked. Smoke filled the sky until it blotted out the stars.
Iruka could still hear the voices.
Shinobi shouting orders. Screams of civilians. Someone yelling that they had to hold the line until the Hokage arrived.
In the middle of it all, Iruka had clung to his parents.
His mother had knelt in front of him. His father had stood behind them, already wearing his flak jacket, eyes fixed on the distant chaos.
"We'll protect you," his mother had said, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
His father had nodded. "It's a parent's duty to keep their child safe."
Iruka had believed them.
Then someone had grabbed him.
He never even saw the shinobi's face. Just strong arms lifting him off the ground, pulling him away while he struggled and screamed.
"Let me go!" he had cried. "My mom and dad are still fighting the demon!"
He remembered reaching for them as they grew smaller and smaller in the distance, swallowed by smoke and fire.
That was the last time he ever saw them.
The memory still echoed in his mind, sharp and unrelenting, even now.
Naruto was the jailer of that same demon. The container that held the Nine-Tails sealed away. Any shinobi worth their salt knew the difference between a weapon and the seal that contained it. Naruto was not the fox.
And yet.
It didn't change the fact that every time Iruka looked at him, he saw that night. The destruction, fear and loss. Naruto was a reminder of the tragedy the Nine-Tails had inflicted on the village, on him.
Iruka wondered, not for the first time, if that was all Naruto would have ever been to him if not for the Third Hokage. "I understand how you feel about the boy. But you must see him as more than the Nine-Tails' jinchūriki. He is a lonely child. Just like you once were."
As the years passed, as Naruto continued to show up to class every day with that loud voice and forced grin, those words began to sink in.
Naruto was lonely... painfully so.
Iruka had been glad when the Third assigned Naruto to his class. He told himself he would be strict but professional. That he would treat Naruto no differently than any other student. If Naruto was going to become a shinobi, then he would earn it properly. And yet, no matter how much effort he put in, Naruto still failed the graduation exam.
Maybe… maybe he should have done more. Maybe he should have offered extra lessons. One-on-one tutoring. Something to help the boy bridge the gap.
The thought barely finished forming when a loud bang echoed through the apartment.
Iruka jolted upright as the knock came again. He moved quickly, crossing the room and opening the door. Mizuki stood on the other side, his expression tight.
"What's up?"
"I'm afraid it's Naruto," Mizuki said. "He's stolen the Forbidden Scroll of Seals. The Hokage has issued an order for his immediate capture."
Iruka's stomach dropped. This wasn't a prank. This wasn't another instance of Naruto acting out. Stealing the Scroll of Seals was treason. The kind of crime that got people killed.
Naruto was in danger.
"We have witnesses that saw Naruto heading toward the western forest."
Iruka grabbed his flak jacket and headband, pulling them on as he moved.
"I'll head there first," he said. "You circle around. Make sure he hasn't doubled back or gone farther than we expect."
"Be careful."
Iruka was already moving, leaping across rooftops as worry gnawed at his chest.
Please, Naruto, he thought. Don't let this be the night you lose everything too.
Naruto stood in a small clearing, the Scroll of Seals unrolled before him, its massive length spilling across the forest floor.
Every inhale felt like a choice he had to consciously make, like his body had forgotten the rhythm and was waiting for instruction. He kept expecting to blink out. To scatter into smoke the way his clones did when they took a hit too hard.
He had died a few minutes ago.
The darkness had been real. The nothing had been real. And now he was standing in a forest with moonlight on his hands and air in his lungs, and none of it felt... real.
"Naruto!" Iruka landed hard behind him, anger and fear twisting on his face.
The boy didn't respond, which stopped Iruka cold.
"Do you have any idea how much trouble you are in?"
Still nothing.
A knot formed in Iruka's stomach. His hands closed around Naruto's shoulders as he turned him around.
Naruto's eyes were open but not seeing.
His mind was still somewhere else. Still in that last moment before the nothing took him.
Everyone knew death existed.
You grew up knowing it the way you knew the sky was above you, constant and unreachable and never quite real until it wasn't.
He had expected pain. He had expected fear. Every story he had ever heard about death made it sound like the worst thing imaginable.
It hadn't been.
The other side had been... quiet.
He didn't know what to do with that. Didn't know how to pick it up and carry it back into a world that was still moving, still loud, still full of Iruka's hands on his shoulders.
None of it fit together yet.
The part that unsettled him most wasn't the dying.
It was how peaceful it had been.
Iruka didn't know any of that. All he saw was a boy standing still in the forest, eyes weighed down by something far too big for him.
"Naruto," Iruka said, gentler now. "Talk to me. What did you do?"
Naruto's eyes finally focused, slowly, as if the world were sliding back into place. "I…" His voice came out hoarse. "I'm… alive."
Before Iruka could ask anything else, the kunai burst from the darkness.
Iruka shoved Naruto aside as steel tore into his own body. Pain exploded through his shoulder and side as the blades struck, driving him backward. He hit the ground hard, blood soaking into the dirt.
"Seriously," Mizuki said landing lightly on a tree branch above them. "You just had to go and save the demon brat."
Iruka pushed himself up on one elbow, glaring. "So that's how it is."
"Naruto. Hand over the scroll."
Naruto blinked, his mind still foggy.
"Don't," Iruka said, ripping the kunai from his flesh with a grunt. "Protect that scroll with your life. Those jutsu are more dangerous than anything you or I can imagine. Mizuki used you. He wants its power for himself."
"Don't listen to him, Naruto. He's been lying to you your entire life."
Iruka's eyes widened. "No. Mizuki, don't. That's forbidden."
"Lying?" Naruto looked between them, confusion giving way to something sharper. "What's forbidden?"
"The truth was sealed by decree from the Third Hokage. Do you know why the whole village hates you?"
Naruto had always felt their stares and whispers. Parents pulling their children away. He'd told himself it was because he was an orphan that caused trouble. But no one ever explained why.
"Yeah?"
"No, Mizuki, stop!" Iruka shouted.
"Roughly twelve years ago," Mizuki continued, ignoring him, "the Kyuubi no Kitsune attacked Konoha. The Fourth Hokage couldn't kill it, so he sealed it into the body of a newborn baby."
Naruto's breath caught.
"And that baby was you."
Everything about the way others had treated him suddenly made sense.
"That's why everyone despises you," Mizuki laughed. "You're the demon fox."
The world seemed to tilt.
Demon.
His mind betrayed him, dragging up the image of the Asylum Demon.
Was he like that monster?
Mizuki grinned, pulling a giant shuriken from his back. "And now I'll kill you and become a hero."
The giant shuriken tore through the air, spinning fast enough to scream.
Iruka moved without thinking.
Despite the blood soaking through his vest and the pain screaming through his muscles, he forced his legs to obey, sprinting toward Naruto with everything he had left. He threw himself between the boy and the weapon, arms already lifting in a desperate attempt to shield him.
At that moment, Naruto felt the familiar pull behind his eyes. The strange sensation of detachment, like his awareness had been lifted out of his body and set just above the battlefield. The Knight's Crest flared to life, invisible but absolute.
Naruto saw Iruka's trajectory before he finished the step. Saw the angle of the shuriken, the arc it would take, the precise point where it would tear through flesh.
No.
Ninja Art: Shadow Clone Jutsu!
Dozens of Naruto burst into existence in a tight formation between Iruka and the incoming shuriken. Their shields came up in unison.
The fuma-shuriken struck.
Metal shrieked against astoran steel as the clones absorbed the impact, the weapon grinding to a halt before clattering uselessly to the forest floor. Several clones vanished instantly, bursting into smoke, but the wall held.
Silence followed.
Iruka skidded to a stop, staring.
"That was… the Multi-Shadow Clone Jutsu?"
An A-rank forbidden technique that had been learned in hours. And yet his eyes kept drifting to the crest shield.
"Where did that come from…?" Iruka murmured.
A slow clap echoed from the trees.
"How noble of you, Iruka," Mizuki said from the treez. "Throwing yourself in front of your family's murderer."
"Shut up."
Mizuki's hands began weaving signs. "Don't you see? The brat already learned a forbidden jutsu. With the scroll, he'll be unstoppable. It's only a matter of time before the Kyuubi uses that power to destroy Konoha."
"Shut the hell up," Iruka snarled. "You hypocrite."
Mizuki clicked his tongue. "You never see the big picture. This is your chance for revenge. Join me. We kill the brat, take the scroll, and leave. Power beyond anything we've dreamed of will be ours."
For the first time since learning the truth, Naruto didn't know what to expect.
Did Iruka hate him?
"It's true," Iruka said quietly. "I hate the fox."
Naruto's stomach dropped.
"But not Naruto."
The words landed like a hand on his shoulder.
"For him, I have nothing but respect for him."
Naruto's eyes widened.
"He's an excellent student," Iruka continued. "He works harder than anyone I know. Sometimes he's awkward and clumsy. A screw-up."
Mizuki scoffed, but Iruka didn't stop.
"He's been mocked, shunned and treated like garbage. And you know what that gave him?"
Iruka looked at Naruto.
"Empathy. He knows what it means to be in pain."
Iruka turned fully toward Mizuki.
"That boy is no demon fox."
His voice thundered.
"He is Uzumaki Naruto. The future Hokage of Konoha!"
Mizuki screamed in fury. "Then die together!"
He inhaled sharply.
Fire Style: Fireworks Jutsu!
An orb of flame burst from his mouth and detonated midair, scattering into dozens of blazing fragments that rained down like shrapnel. The remaining clones raised their shields, absorbing the blasts before popping in clouds of smoke.
"Okay, Naruto," Iruka said quickly. "I'll hold him off. You grab the scroll and run back to the village."
Naruto however moved forward, "Don't worry, sensei. It's the duty of a knight to vanquish evil."
The astora straight sword materialized in Naruto's hand.
Iruka stared. Was that… space-time ninjutsu?
Before he could think further, Mizuki burst from the smoke in a flying kick aimed straight at Naruto's head. Naruto didn't block as the kick passed through him.
Iruka's eyes widened. "A clone!"
Mizuki was using the lingering chakra vapor as cover. The Academy Clone had been nothing more than a distraction. The real attack came from below, hidden in the smoke. Shuriken linked by ninja wire skimmed across the ground, snapping toward Naruto's legs, meant to bind, pull, and bring him crashing down.
Iruka recognized the setup instantly. "Down!" he shouted, already snapping through hand signs.
Naruto reacted without hesitation, jumping upward.
Midair, the Knight's Crest flared once more. He saw the ninja wire shuriken arcing low through the smoke, and pinpointed Mizuki's position near the tree beyond it. The Astora Straight Sword vanished from his grip, replaced by the solid weight of a handaxe. Naruto twisted in the air and hurled it in one smooth motion.
The axe tore through the thinning fog and struck with a heavy thud.
As the smoke cleared, the blade could be seen buried deep in the tree trunk, embedded inches from Mizuki's head.
Iruka stared in disbelief.
How was Naruto seeing everything so clearly?
Mizuki bared his teeth and surged forward, killing intent radiating off him in waves.
The Astora Straight Sword equipped into Naruto's hand with a thought.
Mizuki closed the distance aggressively, kunai flashing in both hands. He used his longer reach and heavier frame to crowd Naruto, forcing him backward with raw pressure rather than finesse. A downward cut snapped toward Naruto's collarbone, driving him into a quick retreat. Before Naruto's foot had even settled, the second kunai thrust in low, aimed for his ribs.
The sword snapped out in a short, controlled cut, aimed at Mizuki's forward wrist.
The white haired chunin recoiled just in time, the blade shaving fabric instead of flesh.
"Tch."
Snarling, Mizuki rushed forward, abandoning clean technique in favor of speed and volume, kunai stabbing in rapid succession. Naruto kept moving, feet never still, always adjusting measure. He met one strike in a bind, guided it aside rather than stopping it dead, then ducked under the next, the sword snapping back into guard the moment the exchange ended.
Oscar's voice echoed in his head. Recover as fast as you strike.
Naruto flicked out another light cut, a compact horizontal slice that forced Mizuki to twist away. The blade was already back in line, point forward in a simple stance.
Mizuki dropped his center of gravity and lunged in shoulder-first, abandoning blade work entirely. His mass slammed into Naruto, driving the air from his lungs and knocking him back several steps. Dirt kicked up as Naruto struggled to keep his footing.
Mizuki capitalized immediately, stepping through the collision and stabbing downward with all his weight behind the kunai.
Naruto planted his rear foot, shifted his grip, and committed.
Both hands locked onto the hilt as he delivered a descending cut, a full-bodied strike driven by hips and shoulders rather than arms alone. The blade didn't land cleanly, but it crashed into Mizuki's forearm and weapon, battering the kunai aside with bone-jarring force.
Mizuki hissed and leapt back, barely saving his arm.
Naruto felt the cost instantly.
The strike had been powerful, but slow. His arms lagged as he recovered, muscles screaming as the sword came back into guard a fraction too late.
Mizuki saw it and smiled.
"Too slow."
He surged forward, ready to punish the opening.
Before he could, Iruka slammed his palm into the ground.
Ninja Art: String Light Formation!
Fuinjutsu symbols flared outward from Iruka's hand, glowing lines spreading across the forest floor like a net. Mizuki cursed and leapt upward, narrowly avoiding the barrier jutsu as it snapped into place below.
That was when Naruto's palm ignited in flames.
Fireball!
Naruto thrust his pyromancy flame forward.
A mass of fire erupted from his palm. Mizuki twisted midair and made a desperate hand sign.
Fire Style: Fire Resistance Jutsu!
Chakra flowed over his body, forming a thin protective layer.
It didn't matter.
Naruto's fire wasn't chakra. It was a flame born of chaos.
The explosion swallowed Mizuki midair.
He crashed to the ground in a rolling heap, screaming as fire tore across him. His flak jacket burned away, fabric disintegrating, skin blistering instantly. Angry red burns spread across his arms and torso, patches of flesh charred black, others bubbling painfully. He staggered upright, panting, smoke rising from his body.
"I'll kill you!" Mizuki screamed, hurling shuriken wildly.
Naruto jumped, clearing the blades as they buried themselves in the dirt.
Midair, the iron ball left his inventory.
It appeared above Mizuki who was distracted by Naruto landing before him.
Then gravity did the rest.
The iron ball slammed down with catastrophic force, crushing into Mizuki's back and driving him into the ground with a wet, bone-shattering impact. His spine snapped audibly. The earth cratered beneath him.
Silence followed.
Mizuki lay there, barely breathing, body twisted unnaturally.
Naruto approached slowly, sword in hand.
Mizuki looked up at him, tears cutting clean tracks through soot and blood. "P-Please," he croaked. "Naruto… remember when I… when I brought you ramen… when I—" His voice broke. "Please... spare me…"
The sword came down with a sickening crack, the edge splitting through Mizuki's skull in two.
Iruka stood frozen as the reality of his old friend's death finally sank in, made all the more unsettling by the look on Naruto's face.
It was emptiness.
Just a flat, distant calm, like killing had already been reduced to a task that either succeeded or failed.
For a long moment, Iruka could only stare. This Naruto didn't look like the boy who had shouted and laughed and painted the Hokage Monument just yesterday. He looked… older. Not wiser. Just worn in a way Iruka didn't have words for.
Iruka's eyes drifted to the sword, shield and fire still curling faintly around Naruto's hand. The massive iron ball half-buried in the earth.
Did all of that really come from the Forbidden Scroll?
He didn't know.
And if it did… then why did it feel like the Naruto standing there wasn't quite the same boy he had known?
[ Victory Achieved! ]
[ You have gained: ]
[ Fūma Shuriken 2 ]
[ 200 Souls ]
The blood was already drying on his hands.
Naruto stared at them. Turned them over once, then back. The lines of his palms were dark with it, filling the creases like ink pressed into a woodblock seal.
He waited.
He wasn't sure what he was waiting for. Some part of him had expected something to arrive by now. Nausea maybe. The desperate need to be somewhere else. He'd felt all of that after his clones were wiped out by the Stray Demon's blast. Thousands of deaths flooding back into him at once, each one a pale echo of the real thing.
This felt nothing like that.
He looked at Mizuki then he looked away.
That was all it was. Looking, and then not looking. Like stepping around a puddle on the way to somewhere else. He had split a man's skull and the most honest thing he could say was that he was tired.
That should have frightened him.
It didn't.
And the absence of fear was the only thing that came close.
Everything was happening too fast. His thoughts scattered, slipping over each other, refusing to settle. But one name cut through the noise.
Oscar.
He had to go back. He had to save his teacher… his friend. But how? How did he get here in the first place? There was no clear answer, no path in front of him. Just blood and confusion.
Hollows, Oscar, that world… how do I get back? Where was I supposed to go from here?
Tonight had been a disaster for the Third Hokage.
Hiruzen Sarutobi had ruled Konohagakure for more than forty years. He had faced wars, conspiracies, traitors, and monsters that threatened the village itself. Never, in all that time, had he imagined being momentarily outplayed by an Academy student using an illusion of a naked woman. A small, deeply buried part of him was grateful no one else knew. The last thing the village needed was the story of how the great "Professor" had been stalled by such a tactic making the rounds.
Still, humor aside, the situation was grave.
Naruto Uzumaki had stolen the Forbidden Scroll of Seals.
That alone constituted a massive security breach. Hiruzen had immediately ordered all available shinobi to begin searching the village. ANBU units were dispatched to the borders to ensure Naruto hadn't fled with the scroll or worse.
Hiruzen knew Naruto was good at slipping around the village. Better than most children had any right to be. But that didn't explain how he'd managed to reach the Hokage Tower itself and bypass its security so cleanly.
Someone had to be pulling the strings behind this.
Hiruzen peered into the crystal ball as its surface shimmered, then cleared into a focused image. Through the Telescope Technique, he could observe the current actions of anyone whose chakra signature he knew, no matter how far away they were or what stood between them. It was a jutsu he had long used to keep watch over the village and maintain order within Konohagakure.
What he saw made his blood run cold.
Mizuki being the mastermind was a shock in itself. How had a low-ranking chūnin, an Academy instructor, learned enough about the Hokage Tower's security to manipulate Naruto into this?
But it wasn't the worst part.
Mizuki revealing Naruto's status as a jinchūriki was a nightmare Hiruzen had hoped to delay for years. He had planned to tell Naruto himself, one day, when the boy was old enough to understand what it meant to carry that burden.
At least Iruka had been there.
Hiruzen watched as Iruka stepped between Naruto and Mizuki without hesitation, shielding the boy with his own body. The old Hokage let out a slow breath, relieved that Naruto hadn't faced that alone.
When Naruto used the Shadow Clone Jutsu, the old man allowed himself a brief smile.
Mastering a forbidden A-rank technique in mere hours was astounding, even with Naruto's vast chakra reserves. It was a clear glimpse of the raw, unrefined potential the boy possessed.
Hiruzen's expression hardened when the boy used what looked like a space-time technique.
Space-time ninjutsu was among the most complex and dangerous fields known. Even the most talented jōnin struggled to grasp its fundamentals, and Konoha itself possessed very few such techniques. Pulling objects from what appeared to be a pocket dimension, without seals, scrolls, or preparation, was entirely unheard of.
The closest comparison was storage fuinjutsu.
But Naruto carried no scrolls, no sealing arrays, and no visible formulas. More importantly, storage seals did not function like this. They required activation and release, not instant manifestation accompanied by a faint shimmer as matter formed directly into existence.
This was an unknown space-time ninjutsu.
And it was being used by a boy who had failed the genin exam.
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If that weren't enough, the weapons themselves raised further questions. They were clearly well-made, expensive, and foreign in design, not something a child could casually acquire, and certainly not something forged by any smith in Konoha. The unfamiliar fire technique was just another troubling detail layered on top of everything else.
Taken individually, each feat was impressive.
Taken together, they were impossible.
Shadow Clone Jutsu. Fire-style jutsu. Space-time Jutsu. Even the most gifted shinobi required years of focused training to master just one of those disciplines. No one learned all of them in the span of a few hours.
What had begun as a security crisis had transformed into a mystery where questions were piling up.
Naruto pretending all this time made no sense. The boy wore his heart on his sleeve. Deception of this scale did not fit him.
And yet…
Hiruzen stared into the fading image of the crystal ball. For the first time in years, a deeply uncomfortable thought crossed his mind.
What if the Naruto they knew was merely a mask, worn so well no one had questioned it?
The first thing Hiruzen noticed was the slight tremor in Iruka's hands as two ANBU escorted him and Naruto into the office.
"Iruka."
"Yes, Hokage-sama?"
"It has been a hard night for…" Hiruzen's gaze shifted briefly to Naruto. "…for everyone."
Iruka straightened. "Your command, Hokage-sama?"
"Dismissed."
Iruka obeyed without hesitation, though the reluctance lingered in the air even after he turned and left. Hiruzen watched the door close, leaving Naruto alone with him.
"Naruto, why don't you sit down?"
Naruto snapped to attention as if struck by a sudden jolt, eyes darting around the room, unfocused and alert all at once. It was like he had only just realized where he was.
Hiruzen studied him carefully.
Was this the familiar troublemaker he had watched grow, or someone revealed only now? Hiruzen's hands came together, unease creeping in. How much could be demanded of a child already shaped by burdens meant for no one?
"Is something wrong?"
Naruto shook his head a little too quickly. "No. I'm fine." He hesitated, then added, "Can I go now?"
"You're not in trouble, Naruto. You know that."
"Then can I leave?" Naruto pressed, eyes flicking toward the door.
The urgency caught Hiruzen's attention. "Why the rush?"
Naruto opened his mouth, then stopped. His brows knit together, his expression uncertain, like he was reaching for words that wouldn't come. For a moment, he looked genuinely lost.
"I've just got… stuff to do," he said at last. "Important stuff."
The words themselves were careless, almost flippant, but the tone beneath them wasn't.
What could possibly matter more than answers after everything he had just endured? The boy who usually fought tooth and nail for every scrap of attention wasn't pushing anymore.
He had gone quiet.
The thought unsettled Hiruzen.
Did Naruto already know more than he was letting on? Was that why he wasn't asking? And if so… had the trust Hiruzen believed they shared been just another part of the mask Naruto wore?
"Naruto, there are things we should talk about."
Naruto's shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly.
"About the Nine-Tails."
For a heartbeat, Naruto simply stood there, eyes fixed somewhere past the Hokage's desk, as if bracing himself for something unseen.
Hiruzen watched closely, measuring that silence. Whatever Naruto was carrying right now, it wasn't exploding outward.
It was being buried.
Much to the old man's relief, Naruto hesitated only a moment before finally sitting. He perched on the edge of the chair, back straight, hands resting loosely in his lap, like he wasn't sure how long he was allowed to stay.
"Tonight, you were exposed to a part of the shinobi world most are not meant to face so young. The reality that not everyone who wears our symbol does so with loyalty."
Naruto didn't respond.
"Mizuki's actions were criminal," Hiruzen continued. "Stopping him prevented far greater harm. Whatever mistakes led you there, the outcome matters. You protected the village."
"…Sure," Naruto said, hi's gaze drifted downward. "Guess the demon brat has done some good."
The word hung in the air.
"Naruto."
"It's fine. Everyone else already thinks it."
"That does not make it true," Hiruzen said sharply. "You are not a demon."
Naruto paused, fingers tightening slightly against his knees. "…Then what am I?"
"You are the jinchūriki of the ninetails."
"Jin… what?"
"A jinchūriki is a human chosen to contain a tailed beast," Hiruzen explained. "The beast is sealed within you, restrained so it cannot harm others. You are not the beast itself. You are the one who holds it."
"…So I'm not…?" The boy hesitated, the word catching in his throat. "I'm not it?"
"You are not the Nine-Tails. And you must never allow anyone to convince you otherwise."
"Then why? Why do they look at me like I did something wrong?"
Hiruzen exhaled. "Because fear is easier than understanding," he said. "And because when they look at you, they remember the night they were powerless."
He met Naruto's gaze.
"You remind them of what they lost. Not of who you are."
Naruto absorbed that in silence. Then a logical question followed, "Then why did they know… and I didn't?"
"Seven years ago, I passed a law forbidding anyone from speaking of your status. I believed secrecy would give you a chance at a normal childhood."
Naruto let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh. "…Guess that worked out great."
The bitterness in his voice wasn't loud. But it struck all the same.
Hiruzen opened his mouth, then closed it again. There was no defense to offer that didn't ring hollow.
"Hokage-sama."
The title alone made Hiruzen pause. Naruto had always called him old man. Hearing the formal address felt like a line being drawn between them.
"Why did you tell them and not me?"
"Before his death, the Fourth Hokage asked that you be seen as a hero. The one who protected the village."
Naruto let out a short, humorless snort.
Hiruzen didn't blame him. Minato, bless his soul, had always been too trusting of the village, too hopeful. He had believed in the people's ability to see past their grief and pain, to see the sacrifice that had been made.
"The village wouldn't accept it. They were drowning in pain and loss. In that state, Minato's request asked more of them than they were capable of giving. Worse, there was a real danger that their grief could turn into hatred, and that you could become its target. So I chose restraint. I kept the truth from everyone, until the village was stable enough to honor Minato's wish properly."
His expression darkened slightly.
"But by the time you were five, your status was leaked. So I enacted the law. If the adults couldn't let go of their fear and hatred, then at the very least, the next generation would grow up without it. I wanted them to know you, not the burden you carry."
Hiruzen felt the change before Naruto seemed aware of it himself.
Chakra seeped from the boy's body, dense and oppressive, filling the room with a weight that pressed down like the first warning of an oncoming quake.
Emotion and chakra had always shared a dangerous relationship.
Chakra was not merely energy shaped by hand seals. It was tied to the mind, to intent, and to the emotional state of the one wielding it. Under normal circumstances, shinobi learned early how to keep that connection restrained. Control was drilled into them until instinct took over. But when emotions reached a breaking point, chakra no longer waited to be shaped. It surged outward on its own.
In heightened emotional states, chakra could be forced out of the body entirely, bypassing technique and control. For most shinobi, this resulted in sloppy output, wasted energy, or momentary instability. For someone like Naruto, with reserves as deep as his, it was far more dangerous.
The wooden floor creaked beneath his feet.
Fine cracks spread along the boards as pressure settled into the room, the air growing thick and oppressive.
And in that sudden surge, Hiruzen felt it.
For the briefest instant, it was as if screaming faces rose up around him. Distorted, hollow visages twisted in agony, mouths open in silent cries. They vanished just as quickly, but the sensation did not.
Hiruzen's breath caught in his throat.
"…Killer intent?"
In the shinobi world, killer intent was often spoken of as a badge of honor. Proof that one had crossed the line between innocence, bloodshed, and survival. To many, it was a symbol of a truly dangerous shinobi.
That belief had always troubled him.
In truth, killer intent was yin chakra shaped by memory, emotion, and death.
No one fully understood why, but killing sometimes left residue behind.
Some deaths passed without a trace, carried out in cold necessity or detached duty. Others left behind faint imprints in the chakra network, like scars too fine to notice until pressure was applied. Yin chakra, bound as it was to the psyche and the soul, seemed especially vulnerable to holding onto these marks.
When a shinobi bearing such residue stirred their chakra with the desire to kill, even unconsciously, those imprints responded.
Killer intent manifested.
For the average shinobi, killer intent was something they knew of, not something they truly possessed. A concept taught in classrooms and whispered about on battlefields, but rarely felt firsthand. Even veterans of the great wars carried it like buried shrapnel, lodged deep within their chakra and psyche, detectable only by sensitives or by those standing uncomfortably close. Simply killing a few times was not enough. It took years of repetition, a gradual erosion of the boundary between killing as a necessary act and killing as an instinctive response, before that weight could begin to seep outward.
Those capable of projecting it were rarer than any kekkei genkai, and almost without exception, they were monsters wearing human skin.
Zabuza Momochi was a famous example. A prodigy who slaughtered his entire graduating class without hesitation. His chakra had been permanently warped by the act, saturated with death so thoroughly that his killer intent felt like standing in front of a blood demon.
But Naruto Uzumaki had only killed Mizuki.
A single kill was never meant to give rise to killer intent, least of all one powerful enough to cause even minor illusory effects.
So how, in the Sage's great beard, was this possible?
Is this because of the Nine-Tails?
The simplest answer was often the most likely.
Minato's seal had been constructed to let the Kyūbi's chakra flow slowly into Naruto's own and the Kyūbi's chakra was infamous for its hatred. If that malice had bled through along with the power, then it stood to reason that traces of killing intent had taken root in Naruto as well.
For now, it was the only explanation Hiruzen could accept; one that kept him from spiraling into darker speculations about how a child could possess such killing intent at all.
One of the ANBU was already behind Naruto before most eyes could have tracked her movement.
Purple hair slipped from beneath a porcelain cat mask as she appeared in his blind spot. A tantō slid free without a whisper, the blade angling toward Naruto's throat. Not to kill but to restrain. With the killing intent pouring from him, he had become a potential threat.
Naruto moved first.
A kunai left his hand in a sharp snap, slicing through the air toward the space behind him as if he already knew she was there.
The ANBU twisted, knocking it aside, but her eyes narrowed behind the mask.
That reaction alone was troubling.
Even seasoned chūnin struggled to track ANBU-level body flicker techniques. For Naruto to counter from a blind angle meant one of two things: he had been hiding a far greater skill level than anyone suspected… or he possessed a sensory ability no one had documented.
Another crack in the version of Naruto he thought he understood.
Seeing Naruto and ANBU Cat poised to clash, Hiruzen released his chakra.
"Stop."
The word with it chakra that cracked the walls and splintering the floor as pressure slammed down on everyone present. ANBU froze mid-motion. Naruto stiffened, unable to move.
The room remembered who ruled it.
"This is the Hokage's office," Hiruzen said calmly. "Stand down."
The cat-masked ANBU immediately disengaged, stepping back into the shadows.
An uneasy silence settled over the office. Naruto stood rigid, impatience radiating off him in sharp, restless waves. Whatever was keeping him here, it clearly wasn't where his mind wanted to be.
"Where's the guy who ruined my life?"
Danzō.
Even in exile, the man's influence lingered like a stain that refused to wash out.
"I've handled it," Hiruzen replied evenly. "You will not have to concern yourself with him."
The answer hadn't satisfied him, and it showed. Without waiting for dismissal, he turned toward the door, already moving, as if whatever lay beyond these walls mattered more than anything Hiruzen could say.
"Naruto."
The name stopped him, but only for a second.
Hiruzen rose slowly from behind his desk as an old man watching a boy walk away. "There are things I cannot undo," he said quietly. "Mistakes I've made. Choices I stand by, even if they cost me your trust."
Naruto's hand tightened on the doorknob.
"But whatever you are facing, you do not have to face it alone." Hiruzen stepped forward, the weight of decades in his voice. "If there are answers you seek, come to me. If there are burdens you carry, let me share them. I may not have told you everything when you were younger… but I have never stopped watching over you."
For a moment, Hiruzen allowed himself hope.
Hope that the boy would turn back. That he could still bridge the distance between them, understand what was happening to him, learn where these new abilities had come from… and maybe, just maybe, preserve what remained of their bond.
"Save it."
The words were flat.
"I'm done listening."
The handle turned.
"And if you really cared," Naruto added, voice colder now, stripped of its usual heat, "you would've told me the truth from the start."
The door opened.
Hiruzen's last thread of hope frayed, but he still tried. "Naruto..."
"Fuck off."
The door slammed shut, the echo rolling through the office like a verdict. Hiruzen stood there long after the sound faded, staring at the empty space where the boy had been, wondering when exactly the distance between them had grown so wide.
Dinner was quiet, just the way Inoichi Yamanaka liked it. His daughter, Ino Yamanaka, sat across from him, a fair skinned teen with average height, her long platinum blonde hair framing the right side of her face. Her green eyes were glued to one of those cheesy romance novels she was always reading, and he tried to ignore the irritation building up as she skimmed through the pages rather than her food.
Today, Inoichi had made sure to include a few high calorie dishes. Things she wouldn't notice were meant to keep her from getting too skinny with that damn diet of hers. He knew she wouldn't appreciate the extra calories, but as her father, he had to make sure she stayed healthy enough to be a proper shinobi in the field.
"Ino chan, let's try something different today. Imagine you're walking through a dense forest. As you walk deeper, you come across a house. It looks familiar, but you've never seen it before. You step inside. What do you see?"
Ino's mind snapped to attention as she considered the question. Her father always made sure to ask her one psychological question every night before bed to keep her mind sharp.
A ninja's greatest weapon was their mind, after all.
Ino chewed thoughtfully on her food. "The house is cozy, old but well kept. There's a warm fireplace and the walls are lined with books." She paused, a slow smile spreading across her face. "And obviously my dream guy would be waiting for me there, tall and handsome."
"This is about Sasuke again, huh?"
"Of course! He'd be there, probably with a cup of tea already made for me. It's romantic."
Inoichi couldn't fault her for this, not yet anyway.
She was a young girl at the start of puberty.
Let her have her fantasies.
The crush was innocent enough, but Ino was now a genin. Life as a shinobi was anything but a romantic novel. Maybe that's why Inoichi let her indulge in these little daydreams. For now, her innocence was fleeting, and he knew it would be stripped away in time.
But even as he told himself that, his gaze drifted toward the picture of her mother, his late wife, who had died during the Kyuubi attack.
Don't worry, my love, he thought. As long as I'm breathing, nothing will harm our daughter. I just have to make sure that she is ready for the real world.
"Interesting answer. You know, how you interpret that house reveals a lot about how you see your inner self."
"My inner self?"
"The house represents your subconscious mind. What you see inside is a reflection of how you view yourself, your strengths, comfort zones, and even your desires."
"So, you're saying my mind is a cozy cabin?"
Inoichi smiled. "More or less. It suggests you value comfort, warmth, and intellect. But the fact that you brought your dream guy into the picture indicates something else."
Ino blushed slightly. "What does it mean?"
"It means that, subconsciously, you believe someone like Sasuke is important to completing your vision of happiness," Inoichi explained. "It's natural to want connection, Ino, but you should also be mindful that relying too much on others to create your inner peace can lead to disappointment."
She sat quietly for a moment, processing the information. Then, with a sly smile, she said, "Well, Sasuke can be part of my cozy cabin if he wants. I'm not kicking him out."
"Just don't let your cabin rely on someone else's presence. Make sure it stands on its own, with or without him."
"Yeah, yeah, I know."
Suddenly, Inoichi was on guard as an ANBU agent appeared before them. "The Hokage has requested a meeting, Inoichi sama."
Inoichi nodded, his mask already switching from father to shinobi.
"Dad, can you maybe bribe the Hokage to make sure I end up on Sasuke's team?!"
"I'll try, my lemon," Inoichi said, using the nickname she pretended to hate. She stuck her tongue out at him, a playful glint in her eyes.
"Remember the routine: all leftovers go in the fridge, and make sure Choji gets them tomorrow."
"Especially the seaweed chips!"
"Those are for you."
"Fine… whatever."
Inoichi smiled softly at the exchange, savoring the moment. "Goodbye."
"Just go already!" Ino said, waving him off like he was an embarrassment.
Inoichi glanced at the ANBU agent, and with a final nod to his daughter, the two of them vanished with a body flicker.
The moment Inoichi stepped into the Hokage's office, he knew something was wrong. Hiruzen looked more stressed than Inoichi had ever seen him. It was as if the announcement of the Fourth Shinobi World War had dropped on his desk.
A knot formed in Inoichi's stomach.
Please, anything but that.
The thought of war sent a chill down his spine. Not only did he fear war himself, but he could not bear the thought of his daughter experiencing the horrors that came with it.
"Hokage-sama," Inoichi greeted, his voice steady, yet his mind was racing through worst case scenarios.
Hiruzen seemed to sense his growing unease and offered Inoichi his smoking pipe.
"Thank you, Hokage-sama, but I'd like to live long enough to see my daughter marry a bastard that doesn't deserve her," Inoichi said with a small smile, though the humor did little to settle the tension gnawing at him.
"Don't worry, Inoichi. I need your mind."
My mind?
Inoichi narrowed his focus on those words. If Hiruzen needed strategic advice, he would have called Shikaku. The Nara clan head was a genius when it came to battle plans and strategy.
But this was not about strategy. Hiruzen needed him for psychological insight.
"What can I do for you?"
"It's Naruto."
Inoichi's mind slammed to a halt.
Naruto?
Uzumaki Naruto? The prankster of Konoha? The orphaned son of the Fourth Hokage? The current container for the Kyuubi no Yoko, the very being that had ravaged their village twelve years ago and killed his wife?
Inoichi had never blamed the boy for what happened. He knew the difference between Naruto and the Kyuubi. But the very idea of the Kyuubi was enough to make him take this seriously.
His mind raced through everything he knew about Naruto.
From the rumors around the village to the comments Ino had made about him.
"Is this about his failed graduation?"
Perhaps Naruto was angry about failing, or maybe he had a violent outburst. It was not impossible that the Kyuubi's chakra had been released in a moment of anger. The boy dreamed of becoming Hokage, and Inoichi could imagine the frustration building inside him after failing to become a genin.
"If only it were that simple," Hiruzen said, rubbing his head before revealing everything that had happened with Naruto.
Inoichi listened quietly as he tried very hard to ignore the seemingly impossible things Naruto could suddenly do. Any shinobi worth their salt would analyze these abilities. But Inoichi's mind went to the boy.
"What do you know about Uzumaki Naruto?"
Hiruzen found the question odd at first. Then he remembered who was asking it, and it became another issue entirely.
He answered carefully.
"What do you know about Uzumaki Naruto personally?"
The guilt arrived quietly, the way it always did when it was deserved. Hiruzen answered what he could. The boy had a fondness for ramen. A penchant for pranks. He was loud, boisterous, and wanted nothing more than to become Hokage.
"What else?"
What else?
Well...
That is...
The Third Hokage of Konoha felt his lips press into a thin, sad line.
That was, as a matter of fact, all he knew.
Had this been anyone other than Yamanaka Inoichi, Hiruzen might have dismissed the line of questioning as paranoia, or worse, some hidden bias against the boy. But Inoichi had known, worked, and fought beside Minato.
Beyond that, Inoichi had known Kushina. Had known her well enough that certain things didn't need to be said out loud. Whatever complicated feelings a younger Inoichi had quietly carried for Kushina Uzumaki, they had never translated into anything, and time had a way of filing those edges down. But they had left the particular tenderness a person holds for someone they once wanted to protect and never got the chance to.
He would not hold the sins of this village against her son.
"I do not see how this relates to our current problem, Inoichi."
"The problem, Hokage-sama, is that we are human beings. Not one dimensional cardboard cutouts." Inoichi's voice was measured. "It is impossible for a person to have only three features that make him memorable. Only three aspects to his personality and character."
He shook his head slowly.
"To put this into perspective. What does Uzumaki Naruto do when he is neither pranking people, nor eating ramen, nor declaring his intention to steal your hat? Where does he go? How does he spend his time when he is not performing for an audience? What does he do at the end of a long and exhausting day, when there is no one left to perform for?"
The answers to all three questions were equally unknown.
The weight of that settled over Hiruzen slowly, the way a verdict does. He had watched over this boy. Had told himself that watching was enough. Had convinced himself that proximity was the same as presence.
It wasn't.
"There is a concept that we use in psychological evaluation. We call it the social self. It is the version of a person that exists in relation to others. The face that forms in response to how the world treats you, what it rewards, punishes, and refuses to acknowledge entirely."
He paused.
"When a child learns that who they are is not wanted, they do one of two things. They collapse inward and disappear entirely. Or they build a version of themselves that is loud enough to be noticed, simple enough to be understood, and harmless enough to be tolerated." Inoichi's voice didn't rise, but something in it sharpened. "Naruto chose the second. He found the things that got a reaction, and he repeated them. Because any response, even a negative one, was proof that he existed."
Hiruzen said nothing.
"The boy we knew was not wearing a mask. That implies awareness, calculation, and sustained effort over time. No child maintains that for twelve years without cracks slipping through."
Inoichi's expression didn't change, but something behind his eyes did.
"And that is where it becomes complicated. Because that kind of construction works both ways. It keeps the world out. But it also keeps the person in. Over time, even they begin to lose track of where the performance ends and the self begins. The loud boy stops being something Naruto chose to be. He becomes the only Naruto that Naruto himself knows how to access."
He let that settle for a moment before continuing.
"This is why what you saw tonight concerns me far more than any jutsu." Inoichi's gaze was steady. "Whatever Naruto experienced out there, it reached past years of layered reflex and pulled someone else to the surface." He paused. "In psychology, we call this a dissociative break. When the constructed self can no longer contain what is underneath it, the pressure finds another way out."
Hiruzen's jaw tightened.
"We have no idea what Uzumaki Naruto has been through. We have no idea who or what shaped that part of him." Inoichi's voice was quiet, but the weight behind it was not. "And that, Hokage-sama, is the real problem. Not the jutsu, the weapons, or the killer intent. The problem is that somewhere, in the life of a child this village was supposed to protect, someone reached him before we did. And whoever it was, it left marks we are only now beginning to see."
The office was very quiet.
His age was rapidly catching up to him. He knew and believed that he had tried to do his best for not only the village, but also for the son of his successor.
Everyone Minato knew that was capable of taking care of Naruto was not available. Kakashi Hatake was a mess, psychologically speaking. After the loss of his teammates, he retreated into ANBU and took only the toughest of missions of the S rank caliber, and it was clear that he possessed some sort of death wish.
He clearly could not leave the upbringing of a child to him.
Jiraiya was far too busy maintaining Konoha's spy networks, or at least, as his job did include him travelling from place to place drinking in bars and taverns and peeping on women in hot springs. Of course, even if he was not basically a wanderer, the Third could not in good conscience leave Jiraiya all alone to raise a child.
Tsunade would have been perfect, but she was now an alcoholic gambling addict lost to her own grief, and he would not want her raising an impressionable young child either.
Mikoto Uchiha had once offered, but the clan politics were against such a thing. As the Uchiha clan had just been suspected of the ones masterminding the Kyuubi's attack in the first place, it would be tremendously bad if one of their own had then decided to adopt the boy.
The Hyuga were out of the question, and part of his village they might be, but Hiruzen had never appreciated or favored a clan that could and would so callously brand their own family members as slaves in the name of preserving and protecting a bloodline. Such a place was not where he wanted Naruto to grow up, believing that such practices were the norm.
The Aburame once again offered, but it was likewise impossible as at the time, the Kyuubi's chakra and presence made their Kikaichu bugs scared and wary. And of course, there was the issue of Naruto eventually growing up to feel like an outsider, as he vastly contrasted the majority of the Aburame.
The ideal clans would have either been the Nara, the Yamanaka, the Akimichi, or the Inuzuka.
However, there was once again the question of allowing a single clan that much power. It was not viewed as a clan attempting to train and foster the son of their hero. Rather, as a clan potentially raising and shifting the loyalty of a Jinchuriki away from the village and into their own hands.
And so Naruto had grown up unloved and uncared for, and Hiruzen had told himself that watching from a distance was the same as protecting him.
It wasn't.
"Hokage-sama?"
He surfaced from his deep thoughts slowly. "Forgive me."
"What should we do?"
"Observe him for now," Inoichi said. "If we move too quickly or too obviously, we risk pushing him further away than he already is. But there is something more important than understanding his abilities right now."
"Oh?"
"We need to give him a reason to stay." Inoichi's voice was quiet but certain. "Not the Will of Fire. Not duty or obligation or the memory of his parents. Something that belongs to him and not to this village's idea of what he should be." He met Hiruzen's eyes. "Konoha failed that boy for years. If we want him to stand with us, we have to earn it. And we have to start now, before whatever is happening to him pulls him somewhere we cannot follow."
Hiruzen nodded slowly.
"And the abilities themselves? We still don't understand where they came from."
"No, we don't."
Hiruzen's mouth curved faintly, tired humor finding its way through. "It would all be considerably simpler if Naruto weren't the Kyuubi's Jinchuriki. Under normal circumstances, I'd authorize your department to conduct a memory reading on a suspect and have answers before morning."
"Yes. Unfortunately, sending a Yamanaka into the mindscape of a child housing the Nine Tailed Fox is considerably above the threshold of acceptable risk."
"Indeed. So we observe, plan, and find another way in."
"What did you have in mind, Hokage-sama?"
Naruto burst through the door of his apartment, nearly taking it off its hinges.
He didn't stop to kick off his sandals. His eyes swept the apartment in one quick scan and he was already moving, muscle memory carrying him through the chaos he knew better than anywhere else in the world.
The entryway was its usual disaster.
Boxes stacked crookedly against the wall, bottles he kept meaning to throw out, shoes kicked in every direction. He stepped over all of it without looking down and hit the storage cabinet first.
Top shelf. Left side. Behind the instant ramen he'd been saving.
His hands closed around the first pouch and he shook it, listening for the familiar rattle of shuriken before holding it out in front of him. It shimmered and vanished.
[ Shuriken Pouch x1 has been added to Inventory ]
Second pouch behind it, full set of kunai. He'd counted them yesterday out of habit.
[ Kunai Pouch x1 has been added to Inventory ]
He moved to the desk next.
It was buried, as always, under open books and empty cups and papers covered in half finished notes on his assignments from the Academy. He shoved most of it aside and yanked open the bottom drawer. Explosive tags, bundled in groups of five the way he'd seen it done in a book he'd borrowed from the Academy library and never returned. He grabbed all four bundles, held them out, watched them shimmer away one after another.
[ Explosive Tags x25 has been added to Inventory ]
Smoke bombs were in the kitchen.
He ducked around the corner and pulled open the cabinet above the stove, the one that was supposed to hold cooking supplies but mostly held things he didn't know where else to put. Eight smoke bombs wrapped in a cloth he'd torn off an old shirt. He took all of them. The paint bombs were underneath, four of them, red and blue, left over from a prank he'd been planning before everything went sideways.
[ Smoke Bombs x8 has been added to Inventory ]
[ Paint Bombs x4 has been added to Inventory ]
Medicinal kit was under the bed.
He dropped to one knee and reached into the dark, fingers finding the worn strap immediately. He dragged it out and flipped it open on the mattress, checking by habit. Bandages. Antiseptic. Soldier pills, only two left. He needed to get more. Needle and thread still sealed. He snapped it shut and held it out.
[ Medical Kit x1 has been added to Inventory ]
The cloak was the last thing from inside.
It was hanging on the back of the bedroom door where he always left it, treated with a chakra reactive dye that responded to the transformation jutsu and helped the illusion hold against trained eyes.
Then he stepped out onto the balcony.
It was the one part of the apartment that wasn't a disaster.
He'd started it small, just a few pots he'd found abandoned outside the building, soil he'd carried up four flights of stairs in a bucket. But it had grown over the years into something he didn't have a word for. Rows of mismatched containers lined the railing, clay pots, old cans, and one cracked bowl he'd wired back together rather than throw away. Every one of them had something growing in it.
Yarrow first. He pulled a generous handful of the dried flower heads, the ones he'd hung upside down last month specifically for this. Good for bleeding. He'd learned that the hard way after a prank went wrong three years ago and he'd spent a night figuring out how to stop a cut on his arm from soaking through everything he pressed against it.
[ Dried Yarrow has been added to Inventory ]
Ginger root next, two thick pieces he'd been drying on the balcony ledge. Good for pain, nausea, and the kind of deep bone ache that came after the body had taken more than it was meant to.
[ Dried Ginger Root x2 has been added to Inventory ]
He went back down the row and stripped every medicinal herb bare.
Oscar was worth more than a careful harvest.
He stood at the railing for a moment, hands loose at his sides, looking out over the village. Rooftops and lamplight and the distant shape of the Hokage Monument carved into the mountainside. Four faces looking out over everything they'd built and everyone they'd left behind.
He turned away from the balcony and went back inside.
The jacket was draped over the back of his desk chair where Iruka had left it after his last birthday, still folded the way it had been when it came out of the wrapping. Navy blue, slightly too big for him, which Iruka had said was intentional because you'll grow into it. Naruto had worn it exactly twice since then.
He picked it up and held it for a moment.
Then he started lining the inside with explosive tags.
It took him four minutes and every tag he had left.
The plan had come to him while he was stripping the balcony, the way his best ideas usually did, arriving fully formed and slightly unhinged. He would wear this suicide jacket and make shadow clones. Each one wearing exactly what he wore, jacket included, identical down to the last detail the way only shadow clones could manage. And then he would send them running straight at the demon.
In the half second before the demon figured out what it was holding.
Boom.
Kamikaze Shadow Clone Jutsu. Naruto pressed his lips together very hard and failed to stop the grin.
It was certainly a plan.
[ Explosive Tag Jacket x1 has been added to Inventory ]
Sorry, Iruka sensei. You'll have to get me a new one for my birthday.
Naruto smiled at the thought and grabbed the cup noodles.
You are going to enjoy these, sensei.
He stood in the middle of the apartment and realized, for the first time since he'd burst through the door, that he had absolutely no idea how to get back to the asylum.
He looked at the ceiling.
Then, because nothing else came to mind, so he raised his fist into the air and announced to the world, "Send me back to the Northern Undead Asylum."
Silence.
Somewhere outside, a crow cawed in the distance.
"Shut up," Naruto told it.
He turned back to the room, cup noodle still in hand, heat crawling up his neck so fast he was surprised smoke wasn't coming off his ears. His hand tightened around the cup out of pure frustration and it shimmered away before he'd even decided to store it.
Oscar's words came to his head.
The Darksign does not simply mark you. It defines what you are in this world. Death triggers it. It returns you to the last bonfire you rested at.
Do I need the Darksign to go back?
As if on cue, a system window blinked open in front of him.
[ Item: Darksign ]
[ Description: The Darksign signifies an accursed Undead. Those branded with it are reborn after death, but will one day lose their mind and go Hollow. Death triggers the Darksign, which returns its bearer to the last bonfire rested at, but at the cost of all humanity and souls. ]
Do I have to die to use this?
The thought sat in his chest with a particular kind of weight. He could do it again if he had to. But before he'd finished the thought, a second window opened beneath the first.
[ Do you wish to use item: Darksign? ]
[ Yes / No ]
Naruto let out a breath that was almost a laugh and pressed Yes.
The back of his neck erupted.
The burn drove him to one knee before he could brace for it, a searing heat that moved outward from his spine in waves, each one worse than the last. He grabbed the edge of the desk with one hand and held on as the sigils spread across the floor beneath him, yellow light carving itself into two concentric circles, symbols forming in the space between them.
The light built until he couldn't see the room anymore.
Until he couldn't see anything.
But even through the pain, through the white consuming everything, one thought cut clean and clear.
Don't worry, sensei. He felt himself coming apart at the edges, the apartment dissolving, Konoha dissolving, and everything falling away into the light. Your squire is coming. We're going to kick that demon's ass. And then we're eating ramen, dattebayo.
The light took him.
Naruto's messy apartment settled into silence after he vanished, the faint shimmer of the Darksign fading from the floorboards like the last ember of a dying fire.
It didn't stay silent for long.
A figure shimmered into existence on the ceiling. ANBU Owl had been assigned to Uzumaki Naruto by the Hokage himself less than an hour ago, with a single directive that had seemed straightforward at the time.
Observe. Report. Do not interfere unless the subject's life is in immediate danger.
He had expected a troubled twelve year old to go home, eat something, and cry.
Instead he had watched the subject systematically strip his apartment of every weapon, explosive, and medicinal supply he owned, store all of it using an unknown space time technique, tend to a balcony garden with the focused efficiency of a field medic preparing for a siege, line a jacket with explosive tags, and then stand in the middle of the room and attempt to verbally summon a teleportation.
Owl had been ANBU for six years.
He had seen things that had permanently rearranged his understanding of what was possible.
He updated his report without moving a muscle.
Subject has demonstrated using an unclassified long range space time technique. Technique bears surface resemblance to reverse summoning jutsu but does not match any documented variant in Konoha's classification system. Subject shows no signs of surprise or difficulty during activation, suggesting prior familiarity with the technique.
Unknown summoning clan affiliation cannot be ruled out.
Subject's current location: unknown.
Subject's destination: unknown.
Owl looked at the floorboards and the concentric circles burned into the wood. At the symbols carved between them in a fuinjutsu language he did not recognize and had never seen in any scroll, any briefing, or any classified file he had ever been cleared to read.
This is going to be a very complicated report.
While Owl was in thought, something snaked toward him from the shadows below. He jumped backward and drew his tantō in one motion, slashing through it. The tendril split apart and dissolved into a liquid, leaving only a faint smear of ink on the blade.
What shinobi uses ink for their ninjutsu?
The answer came from the dark in the form of a body moving very fast. The figure that rushed him was young, barely older than Naruto himself if the build was anything to go by. A plain white mask covered his face entirely.
Their blades met with a sharp ring of steel.
Owl held the bind for half a second, reading and assessing the enemy. Whoever this was, they had learned to fight on the field.
He threw a smoke bomb and broke for the window.
Suddenly a foot connected with his chest from outside and drove him back into the room hard enough to rattle the shelving.
Sealing Jutsu: Crouched Tiger Bullet!
Owl turned in time to see an ink illustration of a tiger on the scroll. As the hand signs completed, the drawing peeled itself free of the paper and lunged.
The Anbu went for the swing.
When a kunai took him clean in the hand. And the tantō was on the floor before he had consciously registered getting bit by a three dimensional drawing. The tiger dragged him backward into the scroll, the sealing jutsu folding around him, pinning him flat within the confines of the illustration.
He wasn't going anywhere.
"Excellent work as always."
The voice came from the window.
The young man who dropped into the apartment had auburn hair and amber eyes. A short black jacket with red shoulder straps that Owl recognized immediately and with a particular sinking feeling.
Root.
"Thank you, Fu senpai," the one with the faceless mask said while removing his mask.
A thirteen year old kid with short black hair and dark eyes. Skin pale enough to look like it hadn't quite decided to commit to being a color.
"Agent Sai. Create a report for Lord Danzō regarding the Kyuubi Jinchūriki. Be thorough." Fu crouched beside the pinned ANBU. "While I make this ANBU into my puppet."
Owl wanted to activate his suicide seal.
He couldn't move his chakra.
The sealing jutsu pressed down on his chakra points. That included the specific two points he needed to activate the seal that would have ended this cleanly. He strained against it. And got nothing back.
Fu's fingers pressed to his temple.
Owl understood then, exactly what was about to happen. False reports would reach the Hokage. Konoha's picture of tonight would be built on whatever Fu decided to put in it. And the Hokage would move on that picture, make decisions on it, trust it.
He couldn't stop any of it.
He could only hope Konoha was ready for the storm that was approaching.
Far away from Konoha, hidden deep within a rugged mountain range, lay a small, secluded temple. From the outside it looked like any ordinary place of worship. Ancient stone pillars standing stoic against the weathered landscape. Moss creeping up the walls in patient increments.
The Fire Zen Temple.
A remote location where banished shinobi who were too dangerous to be left free, yet too valuable to be discarded, were sent to live out their days in carefully managed obscurity.
In a small garden to the east of the main building, a man knelt in the dirt.
He was old and frail in the way a blade left to rust still cuts. Shaggy black hair hung limply around a face marked by an X shaped scar on the chin. He wore a simple white shirt beneath a dark robe that covered him from his feet to just over his right shoulder. And he was pressing pumpkin seeds into the earth with his bare hands, one by one.
Behind him stood two shinobi guards.
The picture they composed was almost convincing.
To the outside world, Shimura Danzō had been broken. Stripped of his influence, exiled to this remote temple, and watched around the clock by loyal Konoha operatives. The War Hawk of Konoha, the boogeyman of the shinobi world, reduced to gardening in isolation while the village he had shaped from the shadows moved on without him.
That was the story Konoha told itself.
The truth was considerably more inconvenient.
Danzō had taken control of Fire Zen Temple within six months of his arrival. The guards behind him were not Konoha's men. The reports filed about his behavior were not accurate. The isolation was a costume he wore with the same ease he wore everything else, as a tool, as a performance, and as a means to an end that nobody outside these walls was yet equipped to see.
A Root ANBU appeared at the garden's edge without sound.
"Speak."
"Danzō sama. A report from our agents in Konoha."
Danzō continued pressing seeds into the earth with the other hand while his eye moved across the page. He had long ago trained himself to read without expression, to let information arrive and settle before allowing it to mean anything.
He reached a specific section and stopped.
Confirmed space time ninjutsu.
Unknown summoning clan.
Subject departed to unconfirmed location via unknown technique.
Hokage has authorized ANBU observation. Intelligence remains incomplete.
He read those last four words again.
Intelligence remains incomplete.
Danzō set the report down in his lap and looked at the garden. The pumpkin seeds he had planted would take weeks to show anything. You pressed them into the earth then you waited. The waiting was where most of the work actually happened, underneath the surface.
"Your command, Danzō sama?"
"Activate all sleeper agents currently embedded within Konoha. Their objective is to keep Konoha from truly understanding Uzumaki Naruto." Danzō pressed the last seed into the earth and smoothed the soil over it with two fingers. "I do not need Konoha blind. I need Konoha working with half a picture."
The Root ANBU bowed without a word.
A shinobi operating on incomplete information does not sit still. Danzō knew this the way he knew everything about Hiruzen Sarutobi, from decades of watching the man govern from a place of love rather than logic. Love made a man predictable. Love made a man fill silences with his worst fears rather than his best intelligence. And fear, applied correctly, was the most reliable weapon in any arsenal.
Hiruzen feared what he couldn't understand.
He feared losing what he loved.
And he feared, above all else, making the same mistake twice.
Let him be afraid of what the boy is becoming, Danzō thought quietly. Let him pour everything he has into understanding abilities he has no framework for. Let him scramble.
His eye moved to the tree line. To the distance where Konoha sat warm and unsuspecting in the dark.
"Search all you like, Sarutobi."
His hand rested briefly on the doorframe, the temple swallowing his shadow as he stepped inside. "By the time you understand what that boy is, he will already be mine. And through him, everything he has become will serve this village."
Danzō let the door close behind him.
"As it always should have."