The wind came down cold from the valley, sharp and biting. It tugged at my jacket, pulling the loose ends like it was trying to rip me open. Down below, in the dim light of dawn, the hamlet sat quiet and small, noticed by the world. Smoke drifted up from the chimneys, curling slow and thin, and from somewhere, I could hear the faint cry of children playing. It felt distant, unreal. It was peaceful down there—small, forgotten.

I shifted from one foot to the other, trying to ignore the knot in my gut. I looked over the edge of the hill again, at the sleeping village. It looked almost... innocent.

The operation was planned down to the last second. We had planted the charges hours ago, deep under the earth, buried beneath layers of stone and bedrock. My hands felt numb, like they weren’t mine anymore. The waiting was the worst part, each minute slower than the last, stretching out like it’d never end. And then, suddenly, it did.

The first explosion was dull, a low groan from the earth. You wouldn’t have known what it was if you hadn’t been listening for it. But the sound that came after—the roar of the mountain giving way—was something else. It swallowed everything. The hillside buckled, and the land tore open, collapsing in on itself. The valley filled with dust and rock, rolling like a wave. The hamlet below disappeared, like it had never been there at all, engulfed by the violence of nature turned into a weapon.

For a moment, there was nothing but the rumble of the landslide and the steady thudding of my heart. I couldn’t breathe. I stood there, staring at the cloud of dirt and debris hanging over where the village had been. My chest was tight, my heart hammering in my ears, but everything else was silent. We’d done what we came to do. The ink production facility was gone—along with everything else.

I kept my eyes on the valley. Dust still clung to the air, but it was starting to settle. I tried to see something, anything—someone moving, a sign of life. But there was nothing. No screams, no panic. Just rubble. Just silence, like the earth had swallowed the village whole without a sound of protest.

“They’re dead,” I whispered. The words felt strange in my mouth. Like they weren’t mine. “All of them.”

I didn’t know who I was saying it to. Maybe to myself. Maybe just to fill the silence.

My hands clenched into fists. I could feel my nails digging into my palms. We had known what would happen. All of us. We knew, but knowing and seeing it are different. I thought I’d be ready. But standing there, looking at what was left—no, what wasn’t left—it felt different. Final.

Shikamaru was beside me, quiet as always. His face was blank, unreadable. He didn’t say anything. What could he say? Our sensei stood ahead of us, overlooking it all. He was silent too, like the world around us.

I didn’t speak again. I couldn’t. The image kept replaying in my head, but it didn’t make sense. This wasn’t survival. This wasn’t even a battle. It was just destruction. A village buried under a mountain of rock. Innocent lives snuffed out in seconds. The mission had been successful, and Command would call it a victory. They’d say we’d done what had to be done. They’d celebrate this. We’d be praised for it. Rewarded, even.

I felt sick.

In the distance, a raven cawed, sharp and sudden, cutting through the quiet like a blade. It circled over the wreckage for a while, like it was looking for something, before it flew off into the grey sky. I watched it go, wondering where it was headed, if it was escaping the same feeling that clung to me now.

I closed my eyes. Tried to push the images away, but they wouldn’t go. It stayed, burned into my mind. I felt a hand on my shoulder. Sakura. Her touch was light but firm, a reminder that we were still in this together, whatever this was. But even her touch couldn’t shake the growing weight in my chest. The disillusionment that settled in like a sickness.

I opened my eyes and looked at the valley again. The dust was almost gone, and the hamlet with it. We stood there, silent, watching what we’d done.

----------------------------------------

It wasn’t night. The world was black. The kind of black that eats everything in its path. Sound. Light. Thought. I was standing in a place I knew. It reached me then. The smell of burning. The taste of ash. The feeling of dead air. I couldn’t even hear my own breath.

But I knew he was there.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Sasuke.

He stood in the distance. Not far, but far enough. A figure carved out of the darkness itself. His eyes were fixed on me—cold, unblinking. I felt a chill run through me, deeper than any cold I’d ever known. My feet were rooted to the ground. Not stone, not earth. Nothing. Just shadow. Darkness. Void.

He moved like a spectre, swift and merciless, striking me down with a single blow. The pain was real—sharp and bright as steel. I hit the ground hard. I could feel my heart hammering against my ribs as I lay there. The blood was rushing in my ears. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I tried to move. I tried again. I willed myself to rise, just once more. But my body wouldn’t listen. I was frozen. He loomed over me. The sword in his hand gleamed faintly, as if it had a light of its own, cutting through the dark like a whisper.

Around us, the village burned. Flames rose high, eating up the village—my village. Konoha was burning, the gates twisted and broken, buildings collapsing under their weight. And everywhere—screams. Faces I knew. People I’d grown up with. They were running, trying to escape the fire, but there was no escape. None. None at all.

And me? I was still on the ground. Still broken. Dying. I tried to shout. Tried to call out. But my voice was gone. Sasuke’s gaze stayed on me, unmoved by the chaos—a reminder of my failure. I’ve lost. It’s over. I couldn’t protect them.

I was supposed to stop him. To protect them. That was my promise. My duty. But all I could do was lie there and die, watching it happen. The helplessness was worse than the pain. It was worse than death.

Jiraiya-sensei... Kakashi-sensei... Iruka-sensei... Somebody... Anybody... help...

The flames grew higher, climbing toward me, until they engulfed the village completely.

This is it.

This is the—

“Kai!”

I blinked against the sudden rush of light. Kakashi loomed over me, his Sharingan fading. I was on the ground. The real ground. My hands sank into it, cold and mushy. My breath came in short, ragged bursts. I blinked, squinting against the sudden light. The real light. The trees. The rice fields. The grey sky. I could feel the mud under my palms, the sweat dripping from my forehead.

Genjutsu.

“Naruto,” Kakashi said. His voice was calm, measured, but there was something in it. Something I didn’t want to hear. Disappointment, maybe. Or something worse.

I wiped at my face, trying to hide the tremble in my hands. My chest was tight, the phantom pain of Sasuke’s blade still there, buried deep. It had felt real. Too real. But it wasn’t. That’s what I had to tell myself. It wasn’t real. I knew it was. Yet, I didn’t.

“You let it take over.” Kakashi’s voice cut through the haze. “Your fear. You have to stay grounded. We’ve been over this, Naruto. Fear is the mind-killer. You cannot allow it to control you.”

Fear. Control. I knew he was right. I had known since the first days of Genjutsu resistance training. Since the week after we returned from Takigakure. I was susceptible, they said. Too vulnerable to illusionary techniques to be allowed on certain missions. Sakura and Shikamaru weren’t. I was holding them back. The team.

“I—I couldn’t stop it,” I muttered, my voice small. I hated how small it sounded. I couldn’t even look at him.

“It was Sasuke again, wasn’t it?” Kakashi asked, softer this time. “You have to let go, Naruto.”

Let go. Like that was something I could just do. My hands clenched into fists, the dirt biting into my palms. I felt sick. Weak.

Sakura and Shikamaru stood a little ways off, watching, but they didn’t say a word. They didn’t have to. I could feel the pity roiling off them.

I hated it.

Oh, how I hated it.

----------------------------------------

When the session ended, I left the others behind. I didn’t want to see their faces, their doubt. Their worry. I could feel it weighing on me like lead. My feet dragged as I made my way to the bunks. Away from them.

Inside, I found a bench. An old one, twisted and gnarled, the wood rough under my fingertips. I sat on it. Alone. It was quiet at the moment. The enemy had yet to resume their assault. A reprieve, even if for just this moment.

My eyes shut, but the image stayed behind them. The memory. It was fabricated, of course. Yet, I knew how easily such a scenario could be made true. Just weeks ago, I had aided in the destruction of a similarly innocent hamlet. They hadn’t been able to do anything to stop us. Nothing at all. Helpless.

Sasuke. His sword. The village in ruin. Again. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make it go away. I couldn’t shake the feeling of defeat, the certainty of it. That no matter what I did, how hard I fought, Sasuke would always be one step ahead. He’d always win.

And I’d be there. Watching everything fall apart. Similarly helpless.

My breath came slow, ragged. I pressed my hand against my chest, trying to ease the pressure, but it wouldn’t go away.

You know nothing, boy.

The voice came from nowhere. A deep rumble that crawled through my thoughts, slipping in like it had always been there. Waiting.

Instinctively, I knew what had spoken. Who had spoken. Jiraiya-sensei had spoken of their existence before. Of their means. Of their foul nature.

You can’t stop him, the Kyuubi said.

You need me.