Chapter no.25 Buried Truths, Unearthed Lies
The Uchiha Coup d'État was a secret Hiruzen Sarutobi had vowed to carry with him to his grave. But secrets, no matter how deeply buried, have a way of clawing their way back into the light. And even when buried, their shadows linger. Long after the massacre, its weight never truly lifted from Konoha—or from Hiruzen. It was a constant reminder of the choices he could not undo, a legacy of what diplomacy, leadership, and even hope had failed to resolve.
The seeds of suspicion against the Uchiha were planted the night the Nine-Tails attacked. In the chaos and carnage, frightened witnesses had sworn they saw the telltale glow of the Sharingan controlling the beast. There was no evidence, only fear and desperation. But in a village reeling from destruction, fear didn't need evidence—it simply needed a target. And the Uchiha, with all their power, became that target.
Hiruzen remembered standing in the ruins of Konoha, the weight of Minato and Kushina's deaths pressing down on him like an iron vice. The cries of the injured, the smell of ash—those memories still haunted him. He knew the village would spiral if he allowed that fear to fester. The Uchiha needed to feel included, protected, trusted. The Police Force was meant to be a symbol of that trust. He had told himself it was a bridge to unity. But it wasn't.
It was a cage.
Instead of bridging the divide, it deepened it. Civilians feared them, shinobi resented their authority, and minor disputes became battlegrounds of mistrust. Slowly, the Uchiha were pushed to the outskirts of the village, their clan compound becoming a symbol of exile rather than inclusion. Hiruzen had tried to repair the damage—attending festivals, speaking directly with Fugaku, showing gestures of goodwill—but goodwill meant little when wounds were allowed to fester. To them, he was a man offering bandages to hide a gaping wound that needed stitches. His efforts were seen for what they were: insufficient.
The warning came at night. Two loyal Uchiha, their faces pale with fear, had told him of secret meetings and dangerous rhetoric. He had listened as they described a plan to assassinate him and install Fugaku Uchiha as the next Hokage. His blood had run cold. A coup wasn't just treason—it was a death sentence for Konoha. He pictured streets painted in blood, neighbor against neighbor, clans tearing themselves apart, and the village falling prey to opportunistic nations.
He had tried subtlety first. Investigations, quiet discussions, small compromises. But the anger had sunk its roots too deep, and for many, a coup wasn't rebellion—it was
justice. He was running out of options.
Then, Shisui had come to him. Loyal, brilliant Shisui. His Mangekyō Sharingan could do what Hiruzen could not: prevent the coup without violence. Kotoamatsukami could alter Fugaku's will, turn him toward Konoha's cause without him ever knowing he had been manipulated. It was a dangerous plan, but in that danger, Hiruzen had seen hope.
He placed his trust in Shisui. It had been his last chance to save Konoha without spilling blood.
And then everything unraveled.
Itachi had come to him, his face cold and his voice hollow. Shisui had betrayed them, he said. His loyalty to the Uchiha outweighed his loyalty to the village. Rather than using Kotoamatsukami to stop the coup, Shisui intended to use it to protect the uprising. Itachi had been forced to kill him, his closest friend. Hiruzen didn't want to believe it, but Itachi—ever loyal, ever willing to sacrifice himself for the village—had brought him Shisui's eye as proof.
With Shisui gone, all hope of a peaceful resolution had vanished. The massacre became inevitable. Hiruzen made the decision knowing it would save the village, but it did so at the cost of something greater: his soul. The scars left behind were not just on Konoha—they were on him. And he had accepted that they would remain with him until death.
Or so he thought.
"Asuma, what did you say?" His voice came out harsher than he intended, but he could feel the blood rushing to his head, his heart hammering in his chest.
"Genin Uzumaki Naruto has found the corpse of Shisui Uchiha at the bottom of a waterfall."
Hiruzen stared at him, his breath caught halfway between disbelief and dread. Asuma placed the scroll on the desk. His hand hesitated before reaching for it, as if touching it would shatter what fragile peace he had built around this memory.
"Inside this scroll," Asuma continued, "is the preserved body of Shisui Uchiha."
Preserved. Perfectly preserved. That was when it hit him—how the waterfall's cold, oxygen-deprived environment could act like nature's embalmer, slowing decay, keeping the body intact for years. The thought turned his stomach. If Shisui's body was indeed whole, then he could no longer hide behind assumptions. There would be evidence.
Real evidence.
Hiruzen's fingers trembled as they hovered over the scroll. Memories of that night, of Itachi's cold, factual recounting, slammed into him like a storm.
Did Itachi lie to me? He wanted to dismiss the thought as absurd, but the doubt had already sunk its teeth in. If Shisui's body could speak, what truths would it tell?
For years, he had believed Itachi's version of events. Itachi had never given him reason to doubt him, and yet—why now? Why did fate insist on unearthing this ghost at a time when he could least afford to confront it?
He exhaled slowly, forcing his shaking hand to still. No matter what truth lay within the scroll, he could not afford hesitation. He had lived too long in the shadows of the past, making decisions for the sake of the village while burying the toll it took on him. But perhaps this time, he owed it to the dead to listen. To uncover what he had spent years avoiding.
Because if Itachi lied to him—if Shisui's death was more than what he had been told—then the massacre had been built on a lie.
And that would be a weight Hiruzen Sarutobi may not be able to bear.
"This is... quite some news," Hiruzen Sarutobi managed to say, though his mind was already spinning, riddled with questions.
"Well, you should thank Naruto," Asuma replied. "He did most of the work. Found and retrieved the corpse. That boy even split the damn waterfall to get to it." He chuckled softly, like a proud uncle who couldn't believe what the kid had pulled off.
Hiruzen allowed himself a small breath of relief, one of the few he'd taken today. Naruto was growing stronger. But more importantly, he was gaining people who cared about him, people like Asuma. It was something Hiruzen had failed to give him for years. Perhaps not entirely, but enough to know he carried that guilt like a stone in his chest.
"Did Naruto ask you to bring the scroll to me?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.
"Yeah. He's actually still sitting by Shisui's corpse. Waiting for me to get back to him. Guess he doesn't want to meet with you."
Hiruzen closed his eyes briefly. That was fair. After everything he had done—or rather, failed to do—Naruto was justified in keeping his distance. "I understand," he said softly, the words carrying more weight than Asuma realized.
Still, Naruto deserved a reward for this. Whether or not he fully understood what he had done, the fact remained: he had uncovered something that could change everything. Hiruzen's hands itched with the enormity of the task ahead, but before that—yes, he needed to give Naruto something worthy of what he had accomplished.
Walking over to his portrait on the wall, Hiruzen slid it aside, revealing the sealing pattern hidden behind it. He bit his thumb, smearing a small drop of blood across the seal. It glowed faintly before unlocking with a satisfying click, opening the latch to reveal the Hokage's personal safe. Each Hokage had one—a place where they stored the things too valuable, or too dangerous, to be left anywhere else.
Scrolls filled the small chamber. S-rank forbidden techniques, confidential documents. His eyes lingered on the shelves for a moment before they lowered to the small stack of silvery ingots nestled at the bottom.
He pulled one free and shut the safe, its weight cold in his hands as he placed it on the desk.
"Father, that's a—"
"Chakra metal ingot," Hiruzen finished for him, as if he weren't casually handing over an item worth millions to a genin. "Give this to Naruto. It's his reward."
Asuma blinked, still processing it. "I'm sure Naruto will appreciate it," he said, and then, after a pause, he added softly, "But you know what he'd appreciate more?"
Hiruzen raised an eyebrow.
"If you treated him as Naruto first, instead of as the mystery you're always trying to solve."
The comment hit harder than Hiruzen wanted to admit. "I am doing this for Naruto," he said, though his voice lacked conviction.
Asuma sighed. "Are you? Or are you doing this for Konoha?" He leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharp, cutting through the shields Hiruzen had spent decades perfecting. "Let's say you figure out Naruto's mysteries. What then? Are you expecting Konoha to benefit from them, from him? Because if that's the case, you've forgotten something important, Father."
Asuma straightened, as if deciding how much of his next words Hiruzen could handle. "It's our job to protect the king. And the king of Konoha isn't the Hokage or its leaders. It's the children. The people. Kids like Naruto. You always knew that, but somewhere along the way..." He trailed off, but Hiruzen knew exactly where he was going. He had forgotten. Forgotten that the weight of a village wasn't carried by its leaders, but by the futures they nurtured.
Before Hiruzen could respond, Asuma gave a respectful nod and turned toward the door. "Think about it," he said as he left, leaving the office in silence.
I should've died in the Kyūbi attack.
Minato was supposed to be here. He would've handled this better. The thought had haunted Hiruzen for years, but it felt especially cruel now.
He reached for the scroll, gripping it firmly as he forced himself to stand. The past wouldn't let him rest, and he had no intention of running from it this time. He snapped his fingers as an ANBU operative appeared.
"Your command, Hokage-sama?"
"Send Shisui Uchiha's corpse to the forensic labs. I want a full autopsy report—cause of death, any traces of remaining chakra residue, everything. And..." He hesitated, the weight of the next decision nearly suffocating him. "Summon Elder Homura and Elder Koharu. We need to discuss this immediately."
The ANBU nodded and vanished in a blur of movement, leaving Hiruzen alone once again. The office, always a familiar sanctuary, suddenly felt stifling. Heavy. As if the ghosts of every decision he had made were pressing down on his shoulders. He tried to shake off the feeling, but it clung to him like a second skin.
There would be no easy answers here. There never had been. Every decision Hiruzen had ever made as Hokage had been a balancing act between protecting the village and sacrificing parts of himself. He had made peace with that—or at least, he thought he had.
But if Shisui's body held a truth he wasn't ready for? If Itachi had lied?
He wasn't sure even the title of Hokage could shield him from the consequences of that revelation.
Still, there was no turning back now. That was what it meant to wear this hat—to make decisions knowing they would haunt him long after his term ended.
And right now, his past was knocking on the door.
The soft scrape of a brush against stone echoed through the cemetery, muffled by the rustling leaves overhead. Homura Mitokado knelt on the damp ground, methodically sweeping away moss and dirt from a gravestone. His old hands, weathered and stiff from decades of writing battle strategies and making countless decisions, still moved with practiced precision. The name carved into the stone became clearer with each stroke, and he paused to read it, adjusting his glasses to see properly.
The cemetery stretched out endlessly before him, rows of stone markers etched with names that spoke of Konoha's history. Heroes, nameless soldiers, and shinobi who had given everything for a dream. Homura let out a slow breath, his lips pressing into a familiar frown.
Tobirama-sensei... He gazed down at the grave he had just cleaned.
You believed in something better. A village where all clans could unite, where we could rise above the chaos of the Warring States era. But what did we really build?
His jaw tightened. He had spent his life serving Konoha—first as a shinobi, then as head of the Jōnin Council, and finally as an elder. He had been there when the foundations of the village were laid, and he had helped shape it into what it was now. But it was hard to ignore the cracks.
Memories surfaced unbidden: council meetings where they had bartered ideals for survival, decisions that had made the village strong but left its soul fractured. The Uchiha massacre. The Chūnin Exams' deadly spectacle. The manipulation of alliances with feudal lords.
Konoha survived, he reminded himself.
We did what was necessary. But the thought rang hollow, even now.
Homura's gaze shifted to a newer grave, its edges still sharp and clean. He had attended the funerals of too many of Konoha's shinobi, many of whom were far younger than him. Men and women who had bled for a village he had never fought for directly.
I've lived too long, he thought bitterly, the words unspoken.
Long enough to see every flaw we've built into this place. Long enough to wonder if I'll ever earn the honor of dying for it.
"Mitokado-sama," a voice interrupted his thoughts.
Homura looked up sharply to see an ANBU operative standing a respectful distance away. The porcelain mask, painted with the faint outline of a dog, gleamed in the sunlight.
"The Hokage requests your presence," the ANBU said, bowing slightly.
Homura exhaled through his nose, rising slowly to his feet. His knees creaked in protest, but he ignored them, brushing dirt from his robes. "Hiruzen rarely calls for me these days," he muttered, though his mind was already turning. Hiruzen's summons were never trivial.
The ANBU disappeared with a blur of motion, leaving Homura standing alone in the quiet cemetery. He glanced back at the rows of gravestones, his gaze lingering for a moment.
Tobirama-sensei, I wonder what you'd think of this village now. I wonder if we've done enough—or if we've only managed to keep it standing on borrowed time.
With a sigh, he picked up his satchel and began the slow walk back to the village, his thoughts heavy.
The library was steeped in silence, the kind that came with age and purpose. Shelves loomed tall, stacked with scrolls, books, and documents that chronicled Konoha's long and messy history. Koharu Utatane sat at a low desk in the center of the room, her back straight despite her years. Her squinted eyes, sharp as ever, scanned the letter in her hands.
The paper bore the official seal of the Wind Daimyō, its contents written in formal, flowery language. Koharu read it carefully, her fingers tracing the edge of the parchment as she deciphered the subtext behind the words.
The Daimyō wanted to increase the number of missions delegated to Konoha, citing recent dissatisfaction with Sunagakure's performance. She tilted her head slightly, the pearls in her hairpin catching the light.
More missions mean more influence, she thought.
But the Daimyō's favor never comes without strings. He's testing us.
She set the letter down, her hand resting lightly on its surface. The smell of ink and parchment surrounded her, a familiar scent that grounded her. The library was her sanctuary, a place where history and knowledge were preserved. It was also a reminder of just how much of that history she had lived through.
Her mind drifted briefly, back to the days of the Warring States era. She had been just a teenager when Hashirama and Tobirama forged the alliances that created Konoha. She remembered the endless bloodshed, the fragile alliances that could break with a single misstep, and the tentative hope that came with the promise of a village. Koharu's role in the village had always been one of diplomacy and practicality. As one of Konoha's primary liaisons with the Daimyō and the feudal lords, she had spent her life navigating the shifting tides of politics. It was delicate work, far less glamorous than the battlefield, but no less important.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of soft footsteps. She looked up to see an ANBU operative standing at the edge of the room, their mask shadowed in the dim light.
"Utatane-sama," the ANBU said, bowing deeply. "The Hokage has requested your presence."
Koharu's lips pressed into a thin line. "Very well," she said, her voice calm but tinged with curiosity. She adjusted the folds of her kimono with practiced care, rising from her seat with slow, deliberate movements.
The ANBU bowed again before disappearing in a blur.
Koharu lingered for a moment, her gaze drifting back to the letter on the desk. The words seemed less important now, dwarfed by the gravity of Hiruzen's summons. He rarely called her and Homura together unless the matter was serious.
What now, Saru? she wondered, her mind already turning over possibilities.
What piece of history has come back to haunt us this time?
The elder council rarely convened unless there was something that demanded the weight of their experience—a moment where the Hokage, no matter how seasoned, needed advice from those who had survived as long as he had. Today was one of those moments.
"Saru, nice to see you still think these old bones have some value," Koharu muttered with a smirk.
"Let's just hope you didn't call us here to give us some bad news."
Hiruzen offered them a small, tired smile, but his mind wasn't on pleasantries. He reminded himself why he had summoned them, why he still needed their wisdom despite how many times they had clashed.
Beware of an old man in a profession where men usually die young.
Old warriors didn't live long by accident. They survived through wisdom, toughness, and an instinct sharpened by years of battle and politics. Hiruzen had seen it firsthand under Tobirama's leadership, watched them make decisions others couldn't stomach, and he knew the weight of that experience was exactly what he needed right now.
As the barrier surrounding his office flickered into place, sealing them in, he slid the autopsy report across the table without ceremony
"In front of you is the autopsy report on Shisui Uchiha."
Their eyes sharpened, the playful remarks fading instantly. Koharu and Homura might have been many things—stubborn, politically calculating—but they were never ones to flinch when it came to business. Hiruzen watched as their gazes lowered to the report, the weight of his own unease hanging between them like smoke.
And then, there it was. The words he had dreaded seeing confirmed.
Salamander's Milk.
Koharu's normally squinted eyes opened slightly—just a flicker, but in all the years Hiruzen had known her, that flicker meant something. He could feel it too, like the floor had shifted under them. The name echoed in his mind, dragging him back to memories of the Third Shinobi War. Hanzo of Amegakure. Tsunade's exhausted face as she worked through night after night, desperate to develop an antidote before the poison claimed more lives.
Slow-acting. Nearly undetectable. By the time you knew you'd been poisoned, you were already dying.
"It was found in his liver," Hiruzen said softly, breaking the silence.
Homura's frown deepened as he flipped through the report. His fingers tapped the page rhythmically—a sign he was processing. "If it's in the liver, he ingested it. Food or drink, most likely. Someone he trusted enough to eat or drink with must have given it to him."
"Not just someone he trusted," Koharu added. "Someone
close. Close enough to know his movements and plans. Shisui wasn't just any shinobi. No one would've gotten near him casually."
Hiruzen's grip on his pipe tightened, though he didn't light it. There was no comfort to be found in the ritual today. "Shisui was planning to use Kotoamatsukami on Fugaku Uchiha," he said, mostly to himself. "The timing isn't a coincidence. The poison must have been meant to incapacitate him before he could cast it."
Homura skimmed further down the report, then paused. "One of Shisui's eyes was removed violently. The socket was damaged—whoever took it didn't care about finesse. But the other eye… it was removed with precision."
"Shisui removed one of those himself," Koharu said.
The thought sat like a stone in Hiruzen's stomach. He pictured Shisui, barely holding on, the poison coursing through his veins, realizing that his enemy wasn't just after his life but after the power of his eyes. He must have known what would happen if both fell into the wrong hands. Desperation. Determination. Hiruzen could see it all so clearly—the way Shisui must have torn out his own eye to keep it safe.
"Then he threw himself into the waterfall," Homura said, finishing the thought. "To hide his body. To ensure his secrets died with him."
The room seemed colder, the implications wrapping around Hiruzen's chest like a vice. He stared at the report, but his mind was already spinning elsewhere.
"He knew," Hiruzen muttered. "Shisui must have known someone was after him, but he trusted Itachi. Trusted him enough to make him the keeper of one of his eyes."
"But if that's true," Homura said, "why did Itachi lie to you about Shisui's death?"
Koharu leaned forward slightly, her gaze narrowing. "Itachi had to know something we didn't. Either he was protecting someone or manipulating the truth to protect the village."
Hiruzen hated how easily her suggestion made sense. He had seen Itachi's devotion to Konoha, the sacrifices he was willing to make, and he knew how far that devotion could stretch. Had he lied to save the village from something larger? Or was there a more personal reason buried beneath that cold exterior?
Homura broke the silence, his tone low but sharp. "Danzo."
The name struck everyone like the toll of a distant bell.
Koharu's gaze flicked toward Hiruzen. "I don't know how, but if anyone could access or recreate Salamander's Milk, it's Danzo. As head of the ANBU, he had access to everything—classified resources, black-market connections. And he would have known about Kotoamatsukami and the threat it posed to his… vision of the village." She leaned forward slightly. "Shisui would've trusted him, at least enough to let his guard down. And Danzo is one of the few people who could've forced Itachi into silence."
Homura shook his head. "Danzo's methods have always been extreme, but this wasn't just extreme. This was deliberate. He didn't just kill Shisui—he sabotaged the last chance we had for a peaceful solution."
Their words scraped against the walls of Hiruzen's mind, relentless, like stones grinding together under pressure. He sat there, listening, but each sentence felt like another blow—another crack forming deep within him, threatening to split open everything he had buried for so long. His heart pounded in his chest, hard and fast, anger surging through him in sharp waves. He tried to suppress it, but it clawed its way through, tearing apart years of carefully built restraint.
His hand trembled as he gripped the edge of the desk, the polished wood creaking under the pressure. The fire in his chest—one he had ignored for too long—raged now, fueled by their deductions, by his own failures, by the truth he had known but never dared confront.
You demand fairness, you demand justice, you demand control—but you don't give any of it. You talk about family, about protecting the village, but where was all of that when I needed it?
Naruto's words echoed in his mind, reverberating like a hammer striking iron, each syllable burning with the sting of truth.
Then Asuma's voice followed, the blow that shattered the last of his composure.
It's our job to protect the king. And the king of Konoha isn't the Hokage or its leaders. It's the children. The people. Kids like Naruto.
His breath hitched, the shame cutting deep, but alongside it, something else began to bloom—a deeper, fiercer anger. Not at Naruto, not even entirely at Danzo, but at
himself. He had allowed this. He had let the village rot under the guise of maintaining order. He had let people like Danzo take advantage of his leniency, his hesitation.
With a sharp crack, the desk gave way under his grip, a large chunk splintering off and crashing to the floor.
The room fell completely silent. Homura and Koharu froze mid-sentence, their eyes snapping to Hiruzen, wide with surprise. The Third Hokage, the "Professor," had lost his composure.
Hiruzen rose to his feet slowly, shoulders straightening as though a great weight had finally been lifted—or perhaps, as though he had finally chosen to carry it properly. His presence filled the room, no longer the tired shadow of a leader who had spent too long in regret, but the man who had once led Konoha through war and peace with unwavering resolve.
He extended his hand, deactivating the barrier seals with a simple gesture.
When he spoke, his voice was low and measured, but there was no mistaking the finality behind it—a tone that demanded no discussion. "Danzo's usefulness has long been outweighed by the chaos he leaves in his wake," he said. "The village can no longer bear the burden of his 'necessary evils.'"
For years, Hiruzen had convinced himself that Danzo was a necessary shadow, a counterbalance to his idealism. He had allowed him to move unchecked because he thought he needed him. But now, as he stood there, that belief seemed almost laughable. He had always known what Danzo was capable of. He had just chosen to turn a blind eye.
No more.
His gaze hardened, and he could see in Koharu and Homura's eyes that they understood. This was not a conversation. This was a decision.
He turned toward the ANBU operative lingering silently in the shadows of the room.
"Send a team to Fire Zen Temple," Hiruzen ordered. "Shimura Danzo is to be brought back to the village—not as a trusted advisor, but as a traitor. He will face judgment before the Council. Before me."
The ANBU bowed deeply, vanishing in a flicker of chakra. The room fell back into silence, but this time it wasn't the oppressive kind Hiruzen had endured for years. No, this silence carried something different—like the stillness before the first crack of thunder in a storm.
Koharu and Homura exchanged glances, but neither of them spoke. There was nothing left to say.
Hiruzen turned his gaze to the broken desk, the splinters scattered across the floor. He had failed before—failed Naruto, failed Shisui, failed the Uchiha, and failed the very ideals he had once stood for. But now he felt something he hadn't allowed himself to feel:
clarity.
This time, he wouldn't falter. This time, he wouldn't bury his failures under more excuses.
It would start with Danzo.
Shimura Danzo, the traitor who had thrived in the shadows for far too long, would finally face the light of justice. His days of manipulating the village from behind the scenes were over.
Hiruzen had made his choice. He would give justice to Shisui, to the Uchiha, and to Naruto.
There would be no going back.
The evening sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the village as the day gave way to twilight. The cemetery, bathed in the warm hues of dusk, seemed almost peaceful—if not for the weight of the occasion. Kakashi stood by the unadorned casket, his face unreadable, the setting sun painting the silver strands of his hair with a faint orange glow.
Shisui Uchiha's mummified remains lay within, surrounded by ritualistic precision. Kakashi's single visible eye lingered on the casket, his mind uncharacteristically reflective. It wasn't like him to dwell—he preferred to keep moving, to keep himself occupied. But tonight, standing here, the past seemed inescapable.
Kakashi adjusted the hitai-ate over his Sharingan as if shielding himself from the weight of what lay before him.
Shisui. They had never been close, but Kakashi had known him well enough to recognize his brilliance. As comrades in ANBU, they'd shared missions, fleeting conversations, and a mutual understanding of the burdens they carried.
Shisui had been… different. Talented, yes, but unassuming—a man whose ideals shone even in the bleakest corners of their world. Kakashi's mind flitted back to one of those rare moments of quiet after a mission, the two of them sitting shoulder-to-shoulder in the dark.
"Peace is fleeting," Shisui had said then, his voice soft but unwavering.
"But isn't it worth chasing anyway?"
That memory lingered, even now. Kakashi had never replied, unsure at the time if he agreed. And now, the man who had once dared to chase that peace lay lifeless in a casket, reduced to a secret Konoha couldn't afford to leave intact.
He took a slow step forward, pausing when he noticed the faint, almost imperceptible movement within the casket. His eye narrowed, honing in on the tiny specks shifting under Shisui's skin.
Ereshkigal beetles.
These beetles were bred for decay, laying eggs that would hatch within hours and rapidly decompose the body. Flesh, bone, chakra residue—everything would be consumed, leaving nothing behind. Kakashi's gaze lingered on the faint twitches of the eggs nestled within the corpse. The ritual was ancient and brutal, meant to keep a body from falling into enemy hands. Even now, it carried an eerie, almost grotesque efficiency.
A crunch of gravel behind him drew Kakashi's attention. He turned slightly, watching as Sasuke approached. The boy's expression was unreadable, but his fists were clenched at his sides, his entire frame taut with barely restrained tension. Without a word, Kakashi stepped aside, giving Sasuke space to stand before the casket.
Naruto and Sakura hung back, their faces somber as they watched their teammate. The usual liveliness in Naruto's eyes was muted, and Sakura's hands fidgeted nervously at her sides. Kakashi moved to stand beside them, his gaze shifting to the treeline.
There, in the fading light, he could just make out faint flickers of movement—the ANBU operatives hidden in the shadows. Of course, they were here. ANBU were always there, hovering at the edges of sight like ghosts. But Kakashi knew their presence wasn't merely ceremonial. Hiruzen Sarutobi had ordered this. The Hokage didn't take risks when it came to the Uchiha, even now.
The thought unsettled Kakashi. If this was a trap for grave robbers—or worse—what secrets did Hiruzen fear might come to light? His gaze shifted to Sasuke, standing stiff and silent near the casket.
The boy stared at the mummified remains of Shisui Uchiha, the name carving itself into his mind like a jagged knife. Kakashi said nothing as he let Sasuke have the space he needed.
Shisui Uchiha.
The name washed over Sasuke like a cold wave, bringing with it memories he wished he could forget. But some things carve themselves so deeply into the mind that you can't erase them—no matter how hard you try.
Shisui wasn't just another Uchiha. To Sasuke, to his family, and especially to Itachi, Shisui was everything. He was Itachi's best friend and sparring partner, the only person who could push his brother to his limits and walk away smiling. Sasuke remembered watching them from a distance as a child, how they moved like they shared the same heartbeat, like their bond was something sacred.
He was always on the outside of that. Always.
When he was younger, he used to hover around them during their sparring sessions, his feet shuffling in the dirt as he waited for an invitation that never came. Shisui would ruffle his hair or throw him a quick tip about his stance when Itachi would brush him off. But no matter how kind Shisui was, it felt wrong—like he was being treated as the little kid tagging along rather than someone worthy of standing beside them.
He didn't want kindness.
He wanted to be included.
And it stung. It stung more than he ever let on.
Sasuke clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. His father had spoken of Shisui with admiration, the kind of admiration Sasuke had once craved for himself.
"There are only two in our clan whose talents stand above the rest: Itachi and Shisui. If the Uchiha ever rise to their rightful place in this village, it will be because of them."
Those words had felt like a dagger back then, the blade twisting between pride and envy. Even his father—stoic, distant Fugaku—acknowledged Shisui before he ever acknowledged Sasuke.
But all of that changed five years ago.
His breathing hitched as his thoughts spiraled toward the memories he had buried beneath layers of training and revenge. He could still hear the whispers, the rumors he wasn't supposed to hear, circling through the clan compound.
Itachi killed him. Itachi betrayed Shisui. He had laughed at the absurdity of it back then. Itachi and Shisui were inseparable. The idea of Itachi killing Shisui had seemed impossible.
Until it wasn't.
Shisui disappeared. Then Itachi became the Butcher of the Uchiha Clan.
He felt the nausea twist in his stomach like it always did when he thought about that night. The night of screams. Of blood. Of betrayal. But in the aftermath, his thoughts always drifted back to Shisui.
If Shisui had been alive, would any of it have happened?
Sasuke let out a sharp breath, grounding himself in the present. His hands were shaking slightly, but he didn't try to stop them. The graveyard was quiet, and for a moment, he felt like the only living person in it, surrounded by ghosts of people he couldn't save.
He broke the silence, his voice steady but heavy. "Shisui Uchiha." The name left his lips like a stone being dropped into deep water.
He paused, the weight of it threatening to suffocate him.
"Mikoto Uchiha." His mother. The woman who had made him breakfast every morning, who had combed her fingers through his hair when he was scared.
"Fugaku Uchiha." His father. The man who had always seemed so untouchable, so distant, but who had carried the burden of their clan on his shoulders until the end.
Sasuke let the names hang there, like tolling bells marking the end of something sacred. His throat tightened, but he forced the words to keep coming.
"These are just three of the hundreds of names of my clan," he whispered, his voice cracking. "The names of the Uchiha who were massacred five years ago."
He expected the same silence to follow, the suffocating stillness he had grown used to. The kind of silence that pressed down on him after he had cried himself to sleep and woken up to find the world hadn't changed.
But this time, the silence broke.
Sakura gasped softly behind him, and when he turned, he saw them standing there—Team 7. Kakashi, Naruto, and Sakura. He wasn't alone. Not this time.
They looked at him not with pity, but with something that hit him harder: sympathy. Understanding.
Empathy.
You're not alone, Sasuke. You don't have to be. Kakashi's words echoed in his head, the words he had told Sasuke before but that he had never let sink in.
The people you've lost wouldn't want this for you. They wouldn't want you to destroy yourself trying to live up to something they never asked for.
For the first time in years, something cracked inside him—not from pain, but from the possibility of healing. He felt it, faint but present, the idea that maybe he didn't have to carry this burden alone.
Sasuke swallowed hard, his throat dry and aching, but he needed to say this.
"The Uchiha Massacre," he said, his voice faltering as his throat tightened. He forced the words out anyway, the weight of them clawing at him like they always did. "It was carried out by a man named Itachi Uchiha."
He clenched his fists, closing his eyes against the tears threatening to spill. "He is… no, he
was my older brother. My
aniki. Someone I trusted. Someone I admired. Someone who meant everything to me."
The words felt like shards of glass tearing through his throat, but he didn't stop. He
couldn't stop. They needed to be said.
A heavy silence followed Sasuke's confession, settling like a shroud over the graveyard. He had expected that. He had expected them to back off, to leave him to this burden that was his alone. But Naruto just stepped forward, his footsteps slow and deliberate, and stood beside him as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
"The feeling of vengeance…" Naruto said, his voice softer than Sasuke had ever heard it. "I know you'll achieve it one day."
It wasn't much. Just a few words. But for some reason, they were enough. Enough to make something in Sasuke stir—a flicker of belief, not in himself, but in how Naruto believed in him. Like even if Sasuke didn't know if he could win against Itachi, Naruto had already made up his mind that he would.
Sasuke exhaled sharply, masking the tightness in his throat. "What would you know about that?"
Naruto reached for the broken hilt of the sword strapped to his belt and held it up. His fingers curled around it like it was a memory. A promise.
"I broke this sword when I killed the monster that took my master away," Naruto said, his eyes meeting Sasuke's.
The words hit Sasuke like a punch to the gut. He stared at Naruto, not because of the sword, but because of the meaning behind it. Naruto wasn't just a loudmouth fool. He knew loss. He knew what it meant to fight for someone who could never come back.
"Get ready," Naruto said, his voice steady, but there was something dangerous in his smile, something that made Sasuke think maybe Naruto wasn't so naïve after all. "Because the euphoria you'll feel when you win—it'll be unlike anything."
A snort escaped Sasuke before he could stop it, but it wasn't bitter. For once, it wasn't bitter.
Beside him, Sakura stepped closer, her hand brushing against his. He looked down, expecting to see the shy, blushing girl who had once stumbled over her words whenever she spoke to him. But she wasn't that girl anymore. There was no awkward hesitation, no childish infatuation. When she wrapped her fingers around his, her grip was steady, firm.
Confident.
"You'll win, Sasuke," she said, and there was no doubt in her voice. Only certainty.
Sasuke blinked, and for a moment, he couldn't breathe. The weight he had carried for so long—the weight of his clan's massacre, the suffocating ache of vengeance—didn't feel as heavy. It was still there, but it was lighter. He wasn't sure if it was because of Sakura's hand, or Naruto's words, or just the fact that they were here, standing with him, refusing to leave him behind.
For years, Sasuke had convinced himself that this weight was his to bear and his alone. His vengeance was personal. His pain was personal. But now, standing here with them, he realized something he hadn't let himself acknowledge before: he didn't have to carry this burden alone.
His mind drifted back to their first day as Team 7. He remembered the words he had spoken during their introductions—how carefully he had crafted them to keep everyone at a distance.
Don't get close. Don't get attached. It had been his shield, his armor. At the time, he thought it made him strong, independent. But looking back now, he could see the truth.
It wasn't strength.
It was loneliness.
Attachments slowed you down. Attachments made you vulnerable. That was what he had believed. And yet, as he watched Naruto and Sakura grow stronger over time, a part of him had felt relieved. Relieved because their strength meant Itachi couldn't hurt them. He couldn't take them away from Sasuke.
He shook his head, grounding himself in the present. He wasn't thinking about how far ahead he needed to be. He wasn't chasing some finish line today. Today, he was looking around—at Naruto, at Sakura, at Kakashi—and realizing,
Maybe it's okay not to do this alone.
He took a deep breath, steadying the storm inside him. This time, Sasuke wanted to introduce himself properly. Not because he had to, but because he wanted to. Because for the first time, he wanted them to see him.
"My name is Uchiha Sasuke," he said, his voice softer than usual, but steady. "There are many things I hate—loud noises, bright colors, and anything sweet. There's not much I like, except for onigiri and tomatoes."
He paused, feeling the breeze against his skin, cool and refreshing like a long-forgotten memory of peace.
"But as for dreams…" he continued, and this time, his voice was firm, sharpened by a truth he could finally accept. "My dream is to live a life my parents would be proud of. And my goal…"
He felt the familiar ache in his chest, but instead of letting it drown him, he let it ground him.
Remind him.
"My goal is to restore my clan and bring justice to the Uchiha name. And to do that, I will kill Itachi Uchiha."
The words hung in the air, heavy but not suffocating. For so long, they had been his only purpose, his only guide. But as he spoke them aloud now, they didn't feel like a curse. They felt like a commitment. A promise he no longer had to carry alone.
Naruto's hand landed on Sasuke's shoulder, his grip firm. He didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. The weight of his hand was enough—a silent promise that he wasn't going anywhere.
Sakura's hand remained in his, steady and warm. There was something in her touch that he hadn't noticed before—stability.
Something he didn't know he needed until now.
Then Sasuke met Kakashi's gaze. He stood a few steps back, his posture relaxed, but his eyes were locked on Sasuke's. He wasn't smiling, but he didn't need to. His presence was enough.
For the first time in years, Sasuke felt calm. Not numb. Not detached. Just
calm. Like the storm that had raged inside him had finally settled into something manageable.
This is my team, he thought.
People who will walk beside me. People I won't lose. People that Itachi can never take away from me.
And for once, he believed it.
The morning sun bled across the training ground, casting long amber streaks across the grass. The warmth barely touched Sasuke. All he could feel was the sharp pulse of adrenaline coursing through his veins, as if his body knew exactly what today meant.
Kakashi stood in front of him, arms folded, watching with that lazy gaze of his that never gave away much but always knew more than it let on.
"You look eager," Kakashi said, eyeing Sasuke's stance.
"I've had a lot of time to think about this."
"Did you decide on a path, then?"
"I don't need to decide. With the Sharingan, I can take multiple paths at once," Sasuke said confidently.
"Of course you can. So, what's first?"
"Ninjutsu."
"Reasons?"
Sasuke shook his head. "I just rested my body. Jumping straight back into anything else would be reckless."
A pause. Kakashi studied him, and for once, Sasuke didn't mind the scrutiny.
"Smart choice," the white-haired man finally said. "But even prodigies don't get shortcuts."
He pulled out a small, thin sheet of paper from his pouch. "You know what this is."
Sasuke didn't hesitate as he took the chakra paper from him. He focused, letting his chakra flow through it. The result was immediate: the center crumpled tightly, while the edges flickered and burned briefly before curling in on themselves. He watched as the ash fell to the ground, scattering in the wind.
"Dual natures," Kakashi said, his voice holding a note of approval. "Rare."
"The Uchiha specialize in fire jutsu," Sasuke said automatically, his mind already turning over the possibilities.
"That's true," Kakashi replied, "but your primary affinity is lightning."
"How can you tell?"
"The crumpling came first, and it was stronger than the burn," Kakashi explained, pointing to the remnants. "Lightning is dominant. Fire is your secondary nature."
"So I should focus on lightning chakra first?"
"Exactly," the older man said. "It'll come naturally to you, and once you've mastered it, you can refine your control over fire."
"If it gets me closer to mastering the Eye of Insight...
Copy Ninja."
Kakashi gave a soft laugh. "Always aiming high, huh?"
There was no need for Sasuke to answer that.
"Funny thing is, my natural affinity is lightning too. I developed a jutsu once that let me cut through a lightning bolt."
"You're serious?!"
"Very." Kakashi took out a pair of kunai and twirled one between his fingers. "I might even teach you someday."
Sasuke didn't rise to the bait. "I'm not interested in promises. Just tell me what I need to do."
Kakashi's eye curved slightly. "Good. That's exactly what I wanted to hear. So, here's your first exercise." He handed Sasuke the kunai.
"What's the plan?"
"Think of how electricity flows. It needs a positive and negative charge to move, right?" Kakashi explained.
"A circuit."
"Exactly. Imagine one kunai as the positive charge and the other as the negative. Your goal is to channel your chakra through both and create a steady current between them."
"Steady how?"
"Hold the kunai about the width of my thumb apart. If you can keep the current steady at that distance, you'll gradually increase the gap over time. The further apart the kunai, the stronger your control will need to be."
"So this is a control exercise," Sasuke said, piecing it together.
"Control and precision," Kakashi confirmed. "If the current wavers, you will get shocked, and the exercise will fail."
Sasuke turned the kunai over in his hands, feeling their weight. "What happens once I master this?"
Kakashi stood and crossed his arms. "Once you've mastered it, we can move on to a jutsu. But don't rush it. Even the brightest sparks need time to ignite."
Sasuke smirked faintly. "I'll master it faster than you think."
Kakashi chuckled again, clearly amused. "I look forward to seeing it. Now, focus. Visualize the flow of chakra, steady and unbroken.
One current. One circuit."
An hour later, Naruto arrived at the training ground with Sakura following closely behind. They came to an abrupt stop, their eyes widening at the unexpected sight before them.
"No way," Naruto muttered under his breath, blinking rapidly.
"This has to be a genjutsu," Sakura murmured, forming a hand seal. "
Kai!" She waited for the illusion to break—but nothing changed.
"That's mean," Kakashi drawled from behind his book, not even glancing up. "What's with the shock?"
"You're
early," Naruto pointed at him, still wide-eyed. "That's enough of a miracle to make history,
dattebayo!"
"Well," Kakashi replied lazily, "Sasuke's been working on refining his lightning chakra nature. Figured I'd supervise."
Naruto and Sakura turned their attention to Sasuke, who was crouched a few feet away. His brows were furrowed in intense concentration, his expression locked somewhere between focus and frustration. Sparks of lightning flickered around a kunai in his hand, crackling inconsistently before fizzling out.
"Wait," Naruto said. "So Sasuke's lightning, and I'm wind… What about you, Sakura?"
"No clue."
Kakashi reached into his pouch and handed her a strip of chakra paper. "Here. Channel your chakra and see."
The paper immediately darkened and grew damp before crumbling into pieces.
"Sensei, what does that mean?"
Kakashi studied the paper, a flicker of surprise crossing his normally calm features. "It means you have dual affinities: Earth and Water."
"Sakura! You're awesome! You've got two affinities!"
Sasuke smirked. "Guess that makes you the odd one out, Naruto."
"What's that supposed to mean,
teme?"
"It's simple," Sasuke said smugly, puffing out his chest. "Sakura and I have dual natures. You only have one."
Naruto stared, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Beside him, Sakura giggled behind her hand.
"Quite the debate," Kakashi cut in, smoothly redirecting their attention. He closed his book and stood, his tone shifting into that of a teacher. "But let's take a step back and look at the bigger picture."
Kakashi glanced between them. "Do you three know how the elements interact with each other? It's called the
Elemental Circle. Each element has strengths and weaknesses. Fire beats Wind, Wind beats Lightning, Lightning beats Earth, Earth beats Water, and Water beats Fire."
"So it's like rock-paper-scissors?"
"In layman's terms, yes," Kakashi said with a shrug.
Naruto's eyes lit up with excitement. "Wait, wait—so Team 7 has
all five elements! Doesn't that mean we'll always have an advantage against any enemy's nature?"
Kakashi chuckled. "It's not quite that simple, but you're on the right track. This brings us to something called
Elemental Supremacy. If two techniques of the same level clash, the superior nature will always win. For example, a fire jutsu of equal strength will lose to a water jutsu every time."
"But," Kakashi continued, "there's a catch. A weaker-nature technique can still overpower a stronger nature if it's of a higher level. For instance, a powerful fire jutsu can overpower a weaker water jutsu if the fire is amplified by wind chakra."
Naruto, Sasuke, and Sakura listened intently, their enthusiasm palpable.
Naruto's mind wandered briefly as he considered combining his wind chakra with the Pyromancy Flame. But he quickly pushed the thought aside.
I'm not ready to mess with something that might just turn into a living demonic fire. Maybe when he found someone who could actually teach him more about Pyromancy.
But, of course, that didn't stop him from taking a jab at Sasuke. "
Teme should probably focus on figuring out how to turn his chakra into
actual lightning first."
"You act like you've already mastered wind chakra."
Naruto grinned smugly. "Oh, I
have." He strode toward a nearby tree, placing his hand on the bark. With a surge of chakra, a jagged gash split the tree's surface, cutting deep into the wood.
Kakashi raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Looks like Asuma's been helping you with wind manipulation exercises."
"Yup," Naruto said. "If I want to master the
Vacuum Blade, I need to get this down first."
He turned to Sasuke, the grin still plastered across his face. "Don't sweat it,
teme. This is advanced stuff—only for
powerful shinobi like me."
Sasuke raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. His attention shifted back to the kunai in his hands as faint crackles of lightning began to dance between them, forming a weak but steady current that flickered like static electricity.
He smirked, casting a smug glance toward Naruto.
The blonde scowled, already opening his mouth for a comeback, but before he could get a word in, Sakura stepped forward with a confident grin, holding up two kunai.
"What are you doing now?"
"Aren't we showing off what we've learned?" Sakura said, raising her kunai proudly. The handles were intricately etched with tiny seals that shimmered faintly under the sunlight.
"What's that?"
Sasuke activated his Sharingan, studying the seals. "Fūinjutsu. They store chakra."
"Exactly!" Sakura beamed. "I've been working on these to create barriers during battle. All I have to do is fill them with chakra, and they can power field barriers or traps."
Sasuke inspected the kunai more closely. "They're still half-empty."
Sakura's smile dimmed slightly, a hint of embarrassment creeping in. "I know. It's just… hard, okay? I don't have as much chakra as you two."
Naruto tilted his head thoughtfully. "Wait. Do you have to fill them with
your chakra? Or can someone else do it?"
"I—I don't know."
"Yes, someone else can," Kakashi cut in. "In the war, barrier specialists often relied on their teammates to donate chakra to the seals. It's a team-based system."
Naruto's face lit up with an idea. "Oh! Let me try!"
Without waiting for permission, he snatched the kunai from Sakura's hand and pressed his palm against the seal. He pushed his chakra into it, and the kunai immediately flared with brilliant white energy, the glow pulsing like a heartbeat.
Sakura's jaw dropped. "You… you filled it that quickly?"
Naruto shrugged. "Yeah, that didn't even take much. I waste more chakra than that just keeping my Shadow Clones up. If you ever need me to fill something up, just say the word."
Sakura's surprise quickly turned into a mischievous smirk as she reached into a pouch tied to her hip. Without saying anything, she dumped at least a dozen kunai onto the ground at Naruto's feet, the seals on each of them faintly glowing.
"Well," she teased, "let's see just how generous you are."
"Why do I always open my big mouth?"
"Because you're an idiot," Sasuke quipped, earning a sharp glare from Naruto.
"Oh yeah? Well, you're helping fill them too,
teme." Naruto punctuated his statement by punching a nearby tree, creating a clean hole through the trunk.
Sasuke and Sakura sweatdropped.
Kakashi chuckled behind his book. "Teamwork, huh? Looks like I won't have to teach that lesson today."
Naruto turned back toward the tree and tried to pull his hand free.
"Uh… guys?" He tugged harder, gritting his teeth. "A little help here?"
"Didn't you just say you were a powerful ninja,
dobe?"
Sakura giggled.
"Don't blast wind chakra to get yourself out," Kakashi advised casually. "You'll just make it worse."
"Help me!" Naruto groaned, struggling to free himself as his teammates doubled over in laughter.
A-rank jutsu,
Wind Style: Vacuum Blade, was infamous among wind-users for its complexity. The technique worked on the principle of coating a weapon with a sheath of wind chakra, extending the weapon's range and drastically enhancing its cutting power due to the nature of wind itself. The problem, though, was the very same reason it was so powerful—wind's ability to cut indiscriminately.
Wind chakra didn't harmonize well with standard weapons. Unlike lightning chakra, which could be absorbed and evenly conducted through a blade, wind chakra clung stubbornly to the surface of the metal. This external sheath amplified the weapon's ability to pierce and slice, but it also created uneven vibrations across the surface, causing microscopic fractures. Without precise control, the weapon would eventually crack, splinter, or, worse, explode under the pressure.
Maintaining the technique required creating a stable vacuum layer between the weapon and the wind sheath, an almost impossible task for most shinobi. Even slight miscalculations could destabilize the flow, leading to catastrophic failure. For many, it took years of practice to master.
But Naruto Uzumaki wasn't exactly the patient type.
In fact, his training method could only be described as
chaotic insanity.
Asuma stood with his arms crossed, watching the hundreds of Naruto shadow clones spread across the training ground, each clutching a Zweihander. They channeled wind chakra into their lungs, breathing it out across the length of the massive blades, attempting to form the vacuum sheath.
Poof! One clone exploded into smoke as its blade fractured and the wind chakra tore through it.
Then another.
Poof. Poof. Poof. Clone after clone failed, the Zweihanders cracking or outright shattering before they could stabilize the technique.
Naruto didn't miss a beat.
"Shadow Clone Jutsu!" Another wave of clones appeared, immediately picking up where the others had left off.
Asuma opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, shaking his head in disbelief. "You know, I never thought I'd see someone try to master
Vacuum Blade by brute force."
Naruto grinned, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he glanced at Asuma. "Well, having the fox helps with the chakra. Shadow clones make it way easier to test stuff without wasting time."
Nearby, resting on a cloth, was a shimmering Chakra Metal Ingot.
[ Item: Chakra Metal Ingot ]
[ Description: Chakra metal for weapon creation, said to come from the bowels of the Iron Sandworms. These ingots are smithing materials of the highest degree, and weapons forged from them symbolize the wielder's ability to thrive in a world where shinobi rarely grow old. ]
Naruto crouched beside it, tracing its surface thoughtfully. "Still can't believe the Old Man gave this to me."
Asuma adjusted the cigarette between his lips. "You did Konoha a pretty big service, Naruto. Shisui Uchiha's body was important. If someone like Orochimaru had gotten their hands on it, they could've learned all sorts of Uchiha and village secrets. You did us a favor by ensuring it stayed protected."
Naruto hummed. "So, what should I do with this thing?"
Asuma shrugged. "Make a weapon."
Naruto pointed to the massive Zweihander resting nearby. "Think I can add it to this?"
"Nope," Asuma said immediately. "You can't mix chakra metal with regular metal. They don't bond properly. If you try, you'll just end up with a weak weapon."
Naruto sighed. "Guess I'm not making a chakra metal Zweihander anytime soon."
"What, giving up on
Vacuum Blade already?"
Naruto's eyes narrowed. "Hell no." He formed another batch of clones, their Zweihanders already sparking with unstable wind chakra. "It's just this stupid vacuum that won't form."
Asuma chuckled. "You're thinking about it too rigidly. It's not about holding the wind in place—it's about
flow." He tapped one of his trench knives against his palm. "You need to create swirls in the wind chakra. Those swirls will naturally pull away the surrounding air and form the vacuum."
"Swirls?"
"Watch carefully."
Asuma used the
Vacuum Blade technique on his trench knife. The edge shimmered faintly, but as he shifted the angle, Naruto could see it—the swirling motion of the wind chakra flowing like a spiral around the blade. The air around it seemed to bend, creating a faint distortion in the light.
Asuma took a step forward, slashing cleanly through a nearby boulder. The cut was so precise that the top half slid off silently before crashing to the ground.
"Whoa."
Naruto grinned, rolling his shoulders. "Alright, swirls it is! Let's get this down!" He turned to his clones, throwing his arms up like a conductor before an orchestra. "You heard the bearded chain-smoker! We're swirling this chakra until we can cut through anything!"
"Were those adjectives necessary?"
Naruto smirked. "Well, they
are true."
"Brat."
Naruto just chuckled before hesitating.
Noticing the shift in mood, Asuma frowned. "Something wrong?"
Naruto kicked at the dirt. "Well… now that I've pretty much figured out
Vacuum Blade, I guess I won't need to bug you for training anymore…"
"Not necessarily. You can still swing by. Ask for training tips, hang out, maybe annoy Shikamaru a bit. Team 10 and I wouldn't mind your company."
"Wait, really?"
"Yeah, kid," Asuma said with a chuckle. "You're alright."
Naruto's grin nearly split his face as he lunged forward, hugging Asuma with way too much enthusiasm.
"Alright, alright, ease up," Asuma wheezed, patting the boy's back. "You're stronger than you think."
Naruto pulled back, rubbing his nose with his sleeve. Then, his eyes lit up with a new idea. "Hey, can I make a request?"
"Depends. What is it?"
"Can I smoke a cigarette?"
There was a beat of silence.
"Why?"
"I dunno. The Old Man never let me anywhere near his smoking pipe, so now I'm kinda curious. What's the big deal? What's so great about it?"
"...Maybe because you're a child?"
Naruto squinted. "What? That doesn't sound right."
Asuma pinched the bridge of his nose. He really shouldn't. He really shouldn't.
"…As long as you don't tell anyone," he muttered.
Naruto's face lit up. "You
are the coolest, Asuma!"
With a smirk, Asuma reached into his pouch, pulled out a cigarette, and handed it to Naruto along with his lighter. "Alright, kid, here's how—"
Before he could finish, Naruto flicked the lighter on, lit the cigarette, and took the biggest inhale possible.
…Then immediately regretted every decision that led him to this moment.
His entire throat felt like it was on fire. His lungs rejected the smoke like an allergic reaction, and he hacked, bent over, coughing so violently that his clones flinched in secondhand suffering before disappearing in puffs of smoke.
"WHAT THE HELL?!" Naruto wheezed, dropping the cigarette like it was a cursed object. "HOW DO YOU ENJOY THAT SHIT?! IT TASTES LIKE BURNING TRASH!"
Asuma, completely unfazed, took a long, slow drag from his own cigarette before exhaling the smoke lazily. "You get used to it."
"WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO
GET USED TO IT?!" Naruto's voice cracked as he continued to cough, hands on his knees.
Asuma just laughed, clapping Naruto on the back. "Guess smoking isn't for you, huh?"
Naruto glared at him, eyes watering from the lingering burn. "You
think?"
Wheezing, Naruto straightened up, still glaring as Asuma took another slow, relaxed puff.
The man smirked. "Still think I'm the coolest?"
Naruto scowled, pointing at him. "No, you're the dumbass for actually
liking that crap."
Asuma just chuckled, shaking his head. "Brat."
Naruto sat cross-legged in the middle of his cluttered living room, the scroll spread out carefully in front of him on the worn wooden floor. The faint smell of instant ramen lingered in the air, and a pile of dirty laundry loomed like a mountain in one corner. Perched atop it like a king surveying his domain was the crystal lizard. The creature basked in a stray beam of sunlight, completely oblivious to the excitement radiating from Naruto.
"I still can't believe it," Naruto muttered, staring at the glowing text hovering over the scroll in his inventory. He tapped the description again for good measure, rereading it for the twentieth time.
[ Item: Fist of the Flickering Peregrine ]
[ Type: Scroll ]
[ Description: A taijutsu style scroll created by Shisui Uchiha. Rooted in the principles of the Shunshin no Jutsu, this technique draws inspiration from the swift dive of the Peregrine Falcon and the legacy of the Fourth Hokage. Shisui's ambition to merge raw speed with precise combat gave birth to this style, a reflection of his dream to become a warrior as fleeting as the wind. ]
Naruto's grin stretched wide across his face, excitement bubbling over. "This is insane! Shisui's taijutsu style! And now it's mine. Heh." He rubbed the back of his head, a familiar cocky glint in his eyes.
"I'm gonna master this for sure! And when I do, that oversized, flea-ridden, cow-headed Taurus Demon is toast!
Dattebayo!"
Carefully, almost reverently, Naruto reached out and unraveled the scroll on the floor. The inked words within weren't just instructions—they were personal notes, written with the precision of someone who had poured their heart and soul into this technique. As Naruto read, his grin faltered slightly, replaced with wide-eyed awe.
[Excerpt from Shisui Uchiha's Notes]
The common misconception with the Shunshin no Jutsu is that its speed can be directly applied to combat. This is wrong. At high speeds, the body succumbs to tunnel vision, rendering precision impossible. While you could theoretically use Shunshin to become a spear and ram into your enemy, no one does this. Why? Air resistance. Without protection, the human body tears itself apart at such speeds. At best, you'll ruin your clothes. At worst, you'll burn yourself alive.
This problem led me to study the Raikage's Lightning Cloak. The Lightning Cloak is both a shield and a spear, enabling the Raikage to move at incredible speeds by eliminating drag. It functions like an arrow piercing the air rather than fighting against it. But I lack lightning chakra. My answer came from nature: the peregrine falcon.
The peregrine falcon is the fastest creature alive, diving at over 200 miles per hour. Its secret lies in its streamlined body and how it manipulates airflow. By folding its wings and tilting its feathers, it minimizes drag and glides effortlessly through the air.
Inspired by the Raikage and the falcon, I developed this taijutsu style. Using wind chakra, I create a cloak around my body that eliminates air resistance entirely. The chakra flows like air over feathers, creating a perfect aerodynamic form. This technique isn't just about speed—it's about control.
Speed is the blade, but control is the hilt. Without it, you'll cut yourself before you ever reach your target.
Naruto let out a low whistle as he sat back, the words sinking in.
"So it's not just taijutsu," he murmured to himself, staring at the intricate diagrams etched into the scroll. "It's ninjutsu
and taijutsu. A wind chakra cloak…" His grin returned, even wider than before. "That's
perfect for me!"
He turned toward the mountain of dirty clothes in the corner.
"Did you hear that, Mr. Lizard?!" Naruto shouted. "Your boss is about to become a legend!"
The lizard blinked once, startled, before quickly burrowing deeper into the laundry pile.
Naruto sighed dramatically, throwing his hands in the air. "I'll get you to love me one day. You'll see!"
[Excerpt from Shisui Uchiha's Notes]
The Raikage's Lightning Cloak—an extraordinary technique, both in concept and execution. The principle behind it is deceptively simple: by infusing his body with Lightning Chakra, the Raikage enhances his nervous system, drastically increasing reaction speed and muscle response. The natural conductivity of lightning allows the chakra to spread evenly, reinforcing his body without tearing it apart.
Wind, however, does not work that way. Wind is wild, volatile, an element that does not embrace—it cuts. It does not conduct through the body; it rages against it. A Wind Cloak, if applied like the Lightning Cloak, would result in catastrophic self-inflicted wounds. The body, caught within its own storm, would be shredded from within.
I have concluded that a stabilizing medium is required. A framework to direct and contain the chakra without allowing it to erode the user.
An interesting workaround, however, would be to weave chakra metal into a mesh—a flexible reinforcement that could serve as an exoskeleton, containing and stabilizing the Wind Cloak's effect.
Theoretically sound. Practically? Uncertain. I will require extensive testing and an exceptional blacksmith to bring this concept to life. The challenge now is not in the technique itself, but in whether or not I will find the time to see it through.
If only there was another of my element who could carry this burden forward…
Naruto frowned as he reread the passage for the fourth time, rubbing his head in confusion.
"Wait a second… does this mean I can wear Wind Chakra like a coat?"
He looked down at himself, then at the chakra metal ingot he had obtained. His brain started working overtime.
"So I just need to get this stuff woven into my armor, and
boom, the next
Shunshin no Naruto is here!"
The realization hit him like a thrown brick.
"Oh, duh."
With a flicker, he vanished from his spot—reappearing inside Higurashi's Weapon Shop.
Naruto landed right in the middle of a transaction, startling a couple of chunin as they completed their purchase. Mr. Higurashi, ever unfazed, merely raised an eyebrow.
"If you're not buying, get out," the blacksmith said dryly. "Or I'll start charging you for standing on my beautifully waxed floors."
The chunin blinked, then looked down, hesitating. The floor was, in fact,
not waxed. It was covered in faint boot prints, a little dusty from the day's work. But Mr. Higurashi's deadpan expression must have been enough because they quickly muttered a goodbye and made their exit.
Naruto exhaled. "Thanks, old man."
"For what?"
Naruto hesitated. "…They were staring at me like I was the fox."
A beat of silence. Then, Mr. Higurashi scoffed. "Nope. Just admiring my fine floor."
Naruto glanced down at the mess beneath his feet. Then back up at the smirking blacksmith.
"Or," Higurashi continued with a teasing glint, "maybe they were just jealous of how ridiculously handsome you are. Girls love a little whisker action, don't they? I bet Tenten agrees."
Naruto blinked, caught off guard. "Sure?"
"Tenten is currently out on a mission."
"Yeah, I know."
Naruto placed the scroll and ingot on the counter. "I need this made."
Higurashi's eyes flickered over the designs, whistling lowly. "Fancy stuff." He picked up the ingot, turning it over in his hands. "You sure you wanna waste perfectly good chakra metal on this?"
Naruto frowned. "Waste? What do you mean?"
The blacksmith gave him a pointed look. "What do you think your armor is made of?"
"…Metal?"
"Some new kind of chakra metal," Higurashi said flatly. "I don't know what kind of ore this is, but your armor's already built to channel chakra without breaking apart under Wind Release. You don't need to mess around with wire mesh or reinforcement—just use what you've already got."
Naruto stared at his gauntlet, then experimentally pulsed Wind Chakra into it.
The result was immediate—smooth, controlled, seamless. His chakra flowed through the
Elite Knight armor like it belonged there.
"Wow, Oscar really left me with something else, huh."
Naruto glanced at the Zweihander, still buzzing from his training. At least the big hunk of metal couldn't channel Wind Chakra, meaning his new jutsu wasn't
totally useless. But hey, if his armor could get him to Shisui's level, that was a win.
"Thanks for everything, Mr. Higurashi," Naruto said, grabbing his stuff and heading for the door.
The old blacksmith clicked his tongue, watching him go.
"Didn't even get to tell him how conveniently wife-material Tenten's gotten with her cooking skills. Kid's hopeless."
Back at his apartment, Naruto—fueled by both inspiration and an excessive amount of ramen—decided it was the perfect time to start training the
Fist of the Flickering Peregrine.
Slurping up the last of his noodles, he set the scroll aside and clapped his hands together.
Alright, let's do this.
With a quick hand sign, he summoned two shadow clones. "You two, clear some space. We're about to make some questionable training decisions."
"On it, boss!" one clone chirped, shoving the coffee table to the side.
"Try not to break anything this time."
Naruto ignored the comment as he focused on the scroll. The first step seemed simple enough:
Create a cloak of chakra around your body. Then manipulate the wind chakra to flow around your form, reducing resistance like an aerodynamic bird.
"I can totally do this," Naruto said. "No problem."
He closed his eyes, gathering chakra and letting it spread across his entire body. A shimmering layer of energy coated him, pulsing faintly. So far, so good. Then, with a deep breath, he began converting it to wind chakra.
BOOM!
The wind chakra detonated outward like an uncontrolled storm, shaking the walls and sending Naruto sprawling onto his back. The pile of laundry in the corner exploded into the air, socks and shirts flinging themselves across the room like they had something to prove.
Naruto sat up, coughing as a cloud of dust settled around him. "Ugh! What the—"
He froze at the sound of wheezing laughter. Turning, he spotted his two shadow clones rolling on the floor, clutching their sides as they laughed like maniacs.
"What are you two laughing at?!"
"Look at
Mr. Lizard!"
Naruto turned to where the laundry heap had been, now scattered across the room. Right in the middle of it all, perched atop a sock, was the crystal lizard. Except it wasn't perched—it was flailing. The little creature had landed upside down, its tiny legs kicking in frantic circles like a wind-up toy gone wrong.
Naruto blinked.
The clones howled even louder, one of them slapping the floor as tears streamed down his face. "He looks like he's doing aerobics! Someone get him a little sweatband!"
Naruto ignored the two idiots—technically his clones—who were laughing in the corner, their amusement only fueling his focus. His attention was fixed on the crystal lizard lying on its back, its tiny legs flailing helplessly. The little creature's beady eyes locked onto him, a mix of fear and desperation, with a pathetic attempt at intimidation as it hissed softly.
"
Scary," Naruto muttered sarcastically, crouching down and motioning for the lizard to calm down. Instead, the creature hissed louder, baring its tiny teeth, but Naruto didn't care. Carefully, he nudged it back onto its feet with two fingers, letting it stabilize itself.
The lizard, clearly on edge, was about to scurry back toward the safety of the laundry pile when Naruto quickly grabbed its tail, lifting it off the ground. The tiny reptile immediately started thrashing wildly, wiggling like crazy, its movements frantic. Naruto held it steady with one hand as he poked a scale near its side, noticing a small wound beneath the scaly exterior. The creature cried out softly in pain.
"Hey, relax. I'm trying to help you, idiot," Naruto muttered, frowning. "Oi! You two morons!" he barked at his clones. "Bring me some water and that weird healing ointment Iruka-sensei gave us!"
The clones snapped to attention, their earlier laughter fading as they jumped into action.
Moments later, they held the lizard down on the table while Naruto got to work. He cleaned the wound first, gently wiping away the dirt and grime that had gathered on the rough edges of the scales. The lizard hissed and squirmed but didn't fight as much as before. Naruto then took the small tin of ointment, scooping some onto his fingers and applying it carefully.
The healing ointment fizzled as it reacted with the wound, releasing a faint, minty aroma and creating a gentle foam that quickly dissolved into the injured area. The scales around the wound seemed to knit together, the jagged edges smoothing out as the injury began to close. The lizard gradually stopped thrashing, its body relaxing under Naruto's careful hands.
"There," Naruto said, setting the creature back down on the floor.
The lizard hesitated for a moment before bolting toward the laundry pile, only to stop abruptly. Its safe haven was gone.
Naruto grinned sheepishly. "Oh yeah, forgot about that. My bad." He grabbed a handful of clothes and began tossing them back into a makeshift pile. "Alright, alright. There you go. Back to your little kingdom."
But the lizard didn't move. It just sat there, staring at him.
"What? You want to thank me? Or… are you hungry?" Naruto asked, scratching his head. He rummaged through his kitchen for a moment before returning with a small piece of raw meat, placing it down near the lizard.
The crystal lizard eyed the meat cautiously before scurrying over to bite into it. Naruto watched as the creature gnawed at the morsel, its little jaws working furiously. Then, to his surprise, the lizard stopped halfway through and slowly approached him, dropping the half-eaten meat near his hand as if offering to share it.
Naruto blinked in surprise. "
Uh… thanks?" he said, a grin spreading across his face as he reached out to pet the lizard, but it immediately darted back a few feet, staring at him from a safe distance.
Naruto laughed softly, picking up the leftover meat. "Progress. I'll take it," he said, shaking his head.
The lizard watched him closely as he pretended to eat the meat, sliding it out of view with a sleight-of-hand trick. Naruto raised it to his mouth and then slipped it into his sleeve, making it look like he took a big bite. "
Mmm, so good," he said, loudly smacking his lips. There was no way he was actually going to eat that.
The lizard tilted its head, its beady eyes narrowing in suspicion, but it didn't seem to protest.
Naruto stood and turned to his clones. "Alright, you two. Keep an eye on the little guy. Kakashi-sensei should be showing up any minute now."
One of the clones crossed his arms, a thoughtful look on his face. "Hey, we should name it."
"Ramen?" the other clone suggested immediately.
"No," Naruto shot back.
"Noodle?"
"No."
"Well, I'll think of something," Naruto said, waving them off as he grabbed his jacket. He gave the crystal lizard one last glance before heading toward the door. "Be nice to it. I'm the boss here, not you idiots."
As Naruto left, the lizard watched him go, its small head tilted slightly, before scurrying back to its newly rebuilt laundry pile.
Naruto flickered into the training ground, skidding to a halt just in time to hear Sakura's annoyed yell.
"You're late… both of you!" she shouted, glaring at both Kakashi and Naruto.
The two rubbed the backs of their heads sheepishly, clearly caught off guard.
"I was late because I was trying to save a woman from a giant talking bear," Kakashi said nonchalantly, his usual deadpan delivery making the absurd claim sound oddly plausible. "The bear demanded I defeat him in poetry before he'd let her go."
"Did you win?" Naruto asked earnestly, his eyes wide with curiosity. Considering the bizarre things he'd seen in Lordran, this story didn't sound far-fetched to him.
"He's lying!" Sakura said, her disbelief palpable.
"Shame on you, Kakashi-sensei," Naruto scolded, though he leaned closer and whispered,
"So… did you win?"
"Of course I did."
Sakura groaned in exasperation before turning her glare toward Naruto. "And what's your excuse?"
Naruto hesitated for a moment. He didn't want to mention the crystal lizard—not yet. Maybe when the little guy was friendlier, he'd show it off, proving that only
he was worthy of its trust. For now, he needed a distraction.
"I was training to use Shisui-san's taijutsu," he said proudly, puffing out his chest. "You know, the one that got him the name
Shunshin no Shisui."
That caught everyone off guard, but they immediately translated his words to mean that he was trying to recreate Shisui's taijutsu style.
"How do you know about this?" Kakashi asked, narrowing his visible eye slightly.
"Oh, Iruka-sensei told me," Naruto said smoothly, his grin widening. "Imagine this—
Shunshin no Naruto!" He practically shook with excitement at the thought.
Kakashi paused, his mind racing.
Sakura turned her gaze toward Sasuke, her curiosity shifting. Shisui's funeral had been just yesterday. What did Sasuke think about all of this?
Sasuke gave a small nod. "I hope you're able to recreate it."
The unexpected encouragement surprised everyone.
"Thanks for the support,
teme," Naruto said, grinning wide.
"If you need help, just ask," Sasuke replied evenly.
"Actually, I've taken a major step toward it!"
Seeing the way everyone was staring at him, he lifted his gauntlet and pulsed Wind Chakra through it.
"Shisui-san used a Wind Cloak to reduce air resistance—something about bird aerodynamics. I'm gonna do that and combine it with
Shunshin!"
Sakura and Sasuke just stared, trying to process the sudden info dump.
Kakashi, for his part, somehow found his voice. "My, Naruto," he said, almost choking on his own words, "it seems like you're serious about becoming the next
Shunshin no Shisui."
Even as he spoke, Kakashi's mind was spinning.
Because one simple, terrifying realization had just hit him like a runaway bull when he tapped a finger against the boy's armor, sending a trace of chakra into it—only to watch in stunned silence as it flowed through the metal effortlessly, without a hint of resistance.
Naruto's armor—his
ridiculously heavy armor—was made of chakra metal.
Not just a little bit.
Not just some reinforcement.
No.
The
entire thing was chakra metal.
Kakashi suddenly felt like he needed to sit down.
Because that meant someone had thrown an
ungodly amount of money at this kid. Who in their right mind had that kind of wealth?! Who could just casually afford to coat an entire suit of armor in one of the rarest materials in the world?!
And more importantly—
WHO THE HELL WAS OSCAR?!
Kakashi squeezed his temples. First, he finds out Oscar is dead. Then, Naruto casually drops that he's
already avenged him. When did that even happen?!
How did that even happen?! Was Konoha asleep when all of this went down? Did everyone blink and miss an
entire arc of Naruto's life?!
His brain was starting to overheat.
He needed a nap. Or maybe an extended leave of absence. Preferably somewhere far,
far away—where Naruto wasn't casually dropping life-altering revelations that made zero damn sense and gave him an existential crisis every single time he spoke.
Oblivious to Kakashi's slow descent into madness, Naruto just grinned.
"
Shunshin no Naruto," he corrected proudly. "Don't forget it!"
"Fair enough. Good luck, then," Kakashi said, feeling the sudden urge to just knock himself out.
"Thanks! I'm off to see Team 10—gonna ask Asuma-sensei if he can help me with Shisui's taijutsu!" Naruto said, already preparing to leave.
"Ino's going to be there," Sakura teased, a sly grin spreading across her face.
"Yeah, I know, Sakura."
Sakura wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, clearly trying to get a rise out of him.
"Weirdo," Naruto muttered before body flickering out of sight.
"What was that about?" Sasuke asked, raising an eyebrow as he observed Sakura's flushed face.
Sakura squealed, her voice high-pitched with excitement. "I
think Ino has a crush on Naruto!"
"Oh?" Kakashi said, leaning closer like a gossiping auntie. "Do tell."
Sakura eagerly launched into her theories while Kakashi nodded along with faux interest. Meanwhile, Sasuke ignored them both, picking up a few leaves from the ground. He focused on his own training, already channeling chakra into the leaves to generate a small current.
"Sasuke-kun," Kakashi called, glancing over, "what do you think about this?"
"Hn," was Sasuke's only response, his focus unbroken.
Sakura paused, watching him closely. Sasuke's indifferent response struck a chord.
How could he remain so detached when one of his biggest fans was now gone?
Ino's words echoed in Sakura's mind:
Do you like Sasuke, or do you like the idea of him?
She thought she had an answer now. At first, she had liked the
idea of Sasuke—the mysterious prodigy, the perfect hero. But over time, she had come to see the real him. His burdens, his pain, his dreams. She no longer saw him as someone to protect her or save her.
Now, she wanted to stand beside him, shoulder to shoulder.
That was what her love had grown into—a quiet strength to match his.
Her resolve hardened as she watched him continue his training, his focus unwavering.
She would stand by his side, no matter what.
That was her promise to herself.
Naruto jolted awake to the faint sound of scratching. Blinking blearily, he sat up, his senses sharpening in the quiet of the night. A quick glance at the clock told him it was two in the morning.
With a furrowed brow, he turned his head toward the source of the noise. His tired eyes landed on the small figure at the balcony window, its little claws tapping lightly against the glass.
A familiar, shimmering blue form.
The crystal lizard.
Naruto groggily rubbed his face before whispering, "Dude… what are you even doing?"
The tiny creature froze at his voice, its bright eyes flickering toward him, caught in the act. Naruto noticed how the moonlight outside seemed to bend toward the large, gleaming crystal on its back, absorbing into it like a gentle tide pulling away from shore.
He paused, watching the way the little thing shifted restlessly, glancing between him and the outside.
"…You wanna go out?"
The words were barely out of his mouth before he was already moving. He slipped out of bed, careful not to startle the lizard, and padded over to the window. At his approach, the creature flinched, its tiny body tensing as if ready to scurry away.
But instead of grabbing it, Naruto simply unlocked the window and pushed it open, letting the cool night air spill into the room.
"Go on, then." He gestured toward the open space.
For a moment, the crystal lizard hesitated. Then, with quick, skittering movements, it scrambled onto the balcony, its tiny form bathed in moonlight.
Naruto leaned against the doorframe, watching. The lizard tilted its head up, its crystal glowing faintly as it drank in the silvery light. It stood perfectly still, as if caught in some quiet, reverent moment, the wind ruffling its scales.
There was something…
serene about it.
Naruto smiled, but as he stepped out, the cold air immediately bit into his skin. A glance down told him that the crystal lizard wasn't handling it much better—its small body trembled slightly under the night's chill.
Naruto didn't think twice.
He lifted his hand and let a small, controlled pulse of warmth bloom from his palm—the faint glow of a Pyromancy Flame flickering to life.
Almost instantly, the air around them softened, the bite of the cold easing into something gentler. The crystal lizard turned back toward him, its bright eyes reflecting the fire's glow.
Naruto chuckled. "Better?"
The lizard didn't answer, obviously, but it didn't run either. Instead, it just stared at him, then at the flame, then back at him again.
Naruto yawned, grabbing his blanket from inside and wrapping it around himself, sinking into its warmth. His eyelids grew heavy, sleep trying to drag him back under.
But then—
A small nudge against his side.
Naruto cracked an eye open and found the crystal lizard had shuffled closer, staring up at him expectantly.
"…You wanna enjoy the heat too?" Naruto asked, raising his arm slightly.
The little creature wasted no time. It carefully scurried under the blanket, nestling against the warmth of the Pyromancy Flame.
Naruto grinned at the sight. Feeling a little bold, he reached out and lightly scratched under the lizard's chin.
It chirped. A tiny, high-pitched sound—somewhere between a squeak and a trill, like a little bell ringing through the night.
Naruto chuckled. "You like that, huh?"
The lizard responded by pressing into his hand, clearly enjoying the attention.
A name.
He should name it.
Naruto paused, thinking. Something ramen-related? …Nah. Something in the back of his mind told him
no—that wasn't right.
And then, in the quiet, he finally had an epiphany.
"…You know," he murmured, his voice soft, "there was a dream I had once."
The crystal lizard stilled, listening.
"To travel through Lordran with my master," Naruto continued. "He was supposed to teach me things. We were supposed to explore together. I wanted to take him to Ichiraku, let him try ramen—bet he'd have liked miso. We'd sit together, talk about anything and everything, and…"
His voice wavered.
But he swallowed it down, blinking hard before rubbing his sleeve across his eyes.
When he lowered it, the crystal lizard was still staring at him.
Naruto took a breath.
"
…Would you do me the honor of taking his name?" he asked, stretching his hand out. "
Of traveling through Lordran with me?"
For a long moment, the lizard didn't move.
Then, slowly, it stepped forward—pausing just long enough to press its nose lightly against his outstretched hand.
Naruto felt something tighten in his chest.
He grinned—wide and a little wobbly—but real.
"Alright,
Oscar," he whispered.
The crystal lizard chirped again, curling closer to his warmth.
Naruto wrapped the blanket a little tighter around them, leaning back against the balcony door, the exhaustion finally pulling him down.
And as his eyes slipped shut, he had no idea that this moment—the quiet beginning of a boy and his lizard—would someday become legend.
That one day,
the gods themselves would tremble at the sight of the two dragons of Lordran.
But for now, they were just a boy and his tiny companion, resting under the moonlight.
As always, thank you for your support, feedback, and amazing ideas. I'm looking forward to hearing your thoughts on this chapter's developments!
Anyway, that's enough rambling from me. Let me know what you thought of the chapter—I'd love to hear your feedback!
And if you can't wait for the next update, the next chapter drops on
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Until next time,
Adamo Amet