Tenten had always dreamed of having a junior—a bright-eyed, eager kouhai who would follow her around, help her polish her weapons, and listen with awe as she rattled off the finer points of bladecraft. She imagined spoiling them with sweets, teaching them techniques, and occasionally ruffling their hair like a doting older sister.

The fantasy had likely come from her years at the orphanage, where she had been the self-appointed big sister. But not the soft, nurturing kind. No, Tenten had been the tomboyish protector, the one who'd scrape her knuckles and grind bullies' faces into the dirt if they so much as looked at her younger charges the wrong way. She had been their defender—rough around the edges, but fiercely loyal.

Her fascination with weapons began early, fueled by an unapologetic disdain for the stereotypical games other girls played. Dolls? Ridiculous. What use did a doll have? None. Unless, of course, you retrofitted it.

Tenten's first and last doll had been a shabby thing someone at the orphanage gave her, probably out of pity. To her, it was nothing but raw material. With scavenged sewing needles for hands and scissors attached to its stubby legs, she transformed it into the Princess of Blades. Princess wasn't a toy; she was a tool—one that could cut fabric, sew patches, and terrify the occasional boy who dared to tease her.

The matron, however, had not been impressed. Tenten couldn't understand why. Princess was practical, useful, and infinitely cooler than any ordinary doll. But the other girls had shrieked in horror, and the doll had been confiscated.

Her obsession with sharp things only deepened when she was adopted by a kunoichi and a blacksmith. It had felt like fate, as if she'd been plucked out of obscurity and handed over to the perfect family. Her new parents were loving and patient, but they didn't share her fascination with pointy things—not at first.

Tenten's father, in particular, had been amused by her enthusiasm. He'd given her rounded training tools with dulled edges, designed to be as harmless as possible. She'd hated them.

"Why does everything have to be round?" she had grumbled, holding up a blunt kunai with utter disdain.

"Round is safe," her father replied with a chuckle.

"But round isn't scary," she countered. "Pointy is scary."

He had laughed, ruffling her hair. "You'll understand when you're older."

She hadn't. What she had done was throw the kind of tantrum only a six-year-old could manage, complete with stomping feet and tearful proclamations of "I hate you!"

Two years later, her mother didn't come home from a mission.

Tenten never forgot the hollow feeling that settled in her chest when her father sat her down, his face drawn and pale, to tell her what had happened. Her childish outburst haunted her, replaying over and over in her mind.

When he handed her doll back to her that night, her father's voice was quiet but firm. "You said pointy things are scary, didn't you? Well, we're going to make them less scary. For you."

And so they had. Her father had begun training her in earnest, teaching her the art of weaponry. She threw herself into it with everything she had—not just to honor her mother's memory, but to ensure that she would never be weak, never be helpless. Every kunai, every shuriken, every blade she mastered became a small triumph, a step forward on a path she had carved for herself.

Over the years, her obsession with weapons became both her passion and her identity. But somewhere deep down, Tenten had always hoped to find someone who shared that same love. Someone who didn't just see weapons as tools, but as extensions of themselves—things that demanded respect, care, and artistry.

She doubted she'd ever find that person. It was more of a whimsical daydream than anything else, something she thought about in quiet moments while polishing her kunai or practicing her throws.

Then Kakashi Hatake had shown up one afternoon, asking if she could help Uzumaki Naruto with his swordsmanship.

Tenten wasn't sure what she'd expected when she agreed to train Uzumaki Naruto in swordsmanship, but what she got was a walking disaster with a greatsword and a grin too wide for his own good. He had spirit, sure, but skill? Nonexistent.

"GIVE ME TWENTY SWINGS, MAGGOT!" Tenten barked, pacing back and forth.

Naruto's face twisted in annoyance, but he gritted his teeth and complied. He swung the massive Zweihander in wide arcs, each swing accompanied by a grunt of effort.

By the time he hit number twenty, sweat poured down his face, but his swings looked no better than when they started. Tenten pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling sharply.

"Stop," she commanded.

Naruto froze mid-swing, his blade wobbling precariously in his grip.

"First things first," Tenten said. "You don't just swing a sword like it's a club. This isn't some blunt instrument—you're holding a crafted weapon, and you're treating it like a stick you picked up off the ground. Now show me your grip."

Naruto adjusted his hands on the hilt, clutching the massive weapon so tightly his knuckles turned white. "Like this! Solid grip, no way it slips!"

Tenten's eye twitched. "Solid grip? You're choking the life out of it!" She grabbed his hands, peeling his fingers back one by one with no small amount of irritation. "Your grip isn't supposed to turn your hands into stone! Loosen it up! Think of it like holding a bird—tight enough that it doesn't fly away, but not so tight you crush it to death."

"Uh… like this?"

"Better," Tenten said. "But not good enough. Your blade's weight is all on one end, so you need to let your dominant hand guide the swing while your other hand stabilizes it. Right now, you're trying to manhandle the damn thing into submission."

Naruto shifted his grip again, his hands sliding closer together. He gave the blade a test swing, and while it was far from perfect, it didn't look quite as clumsy.

"Not terrible," Tenten admitted begrudgingly. "But we're just getting started. Now your stance. Let me guess—you're about to drop into something ridiculous, aren't you?"

Naruto, already planting his feet wide apart and hoisting the Zweihander over his shoulder, froze mid-movement. "What's wrong with this? I've got a stable base!"

"Stable?" Tenten snorted. "You look like you're about to chop down a tree, not face an enemy. Your stance is so stiff, I could knock you over with one good shove." To prove her point, she flicked his shin with her foot, and Naruto wobbled unsteadily.

"Your sword isn't just about power, Naruto," Tenten continued. "You've got reach and control on your side, but if you plant yourself like a rock, you'll never be able to use either. You need to move. Movement is life. Movement is survival."

Dropping into her own stance, Tenten bent her knees slightly, her feet shoulder-width apart. "Watch me. See how I'm steady, but not stiff? This lets me shift in any direction without losing balance. Now copy it."

Naruto mimicked her stance, adjusting his feet and bending his knees.

Tenten hummed, nudging his leg with her foot until his positioning improved. "Keep your knees soft. You lock them, and you're going to tip over the second someone puts pressure on you. Now hold that sword steady and don't lean forward like an idiot."

"This feels weird…"

"It's supposed to," Tenten said. "Because for the first time, you're not doing it wrong. Now swing the damn sword, and don't embarrass me this time."

Naruto exhaled, focusing on his grip and stance as he swung the Zweihander in a wide arc. This time, the blade moved smoother, with more control. He held steady at the end of the swing, his balance intact.

Tenten's sharp eyes caught every detail, and for the first time that afternoon, her lips curved into something resembling a smile. "Finally. You're not completely hopeless."

"Ha! I knew I was awesome!"

"Don't get cocky, maggot!" Tenten snapped. "You did one decent swing. You've got a thousand more before I'll call it 'awesome.' Now keep going. Again!"

Naruto groaned but complied, his swings growing steadier as the minutes passed. Tenten barked corrections with every misstep.

"Your grip's slipping! Fix it!"

"You're leaning forward too much—keep your weight back!"

"Your follow-through is sloppy! Tighten it up!"

By the time an hour passed, Naruto was panting heavily, his movements slower but far more precise. Tenten stepped in front of him, her sharp gaze locking onto his tired face.

"Alright, maggot," she said, pointing her katana at him. "Now that you're not embarrassing yourself with the basics, we're moving on to tempo."

"Tempo?" Naruto panted. "Like… rhythm or something?"

"Yep," Tenten said. "Swordsmanship isn't just about swinging harder or faster. It's about when you strike. If you time it right, even someone stronger or faster than you will fall. You, however, have all the finesse of a bull in a china shop. So, we're going to fix that."

She raised her katana, moving it in a slow, deliberate arc before snapping into a quick feint. Naruto instinctively raised his Zweihander to block, but Tenten redirected and lightly tapped him on the shoulder.

"See what just happened?" she asked. "You reacted too fast. I didn't need to overpower you—I just needed you to overcommit."

"So what do I do? Not block?"

"You wait," Tenten said simply. "Patience is a swordsman's best weapon. Don't swing at every opening—wait for the right moment. Practice finding your rhythm. If you master that, you'll control the fight instead of reacting to it."

Slowly, the boy nodded.

"Good. Now shut up and swing. You've got a lot of ground to cover, maggot."

Naruto's swings had been relentless for the last half hour, though to Tenten's trained eye, his technique was still rough.

"Alright!" she barked. "Stop embarrassing yourself and listen up. We're moving on to something even you should be able to understand: edge alignment."

"Edge alignment? That sounds important."

"It is important. If your blade's edge isn't lined up with the direction of your swing, you're smacking things with the flat. You're not slicing; you're slapping. You might as well be swinging around a plank of wood."

Naruto frowned, gripping his sword. "So, how do I fix it?"

"First of all, loosen up! I can see those white knuckles from here!" Tenten marched over and yanked his hands off the hilt, holding them up for inspection. "What did I tell you about strangling the damn thing? You're not trying to choke it to death!"

"But I need to hold it steady!" Naruto protested.

"And you can do that without squeezing it like it owes you money," she shot back. Grabbing his hands, she adjusted his grip. "Your dominant hand goes here, near the guard. That's your guide. Your other hand stabilizes. Got it?"

Naruto grumbled but nodded, shifting his hands into place.

"Better," Tenten admitted grudgingly. "Now, when you swing, stop thinking about just hitting things. Imagine cutting. Visualize the edge slicing cleanly through whatever you're aiming at. Let the blade do the work."

Naruto nodded and swung again, this time focusing on the edge of his Zweihander. The blade hissed through the air with a sharper, more precise sound.

"Not bad," Tenten said, stepping back to give him room. "But we're not done. Here's your next drill: pick a target—a tree, a dummy, whatever—and focus on clean, straight cuts. Precision over power. If the cuts are sloppy, adjust your grip until they're not."

"Got it!" Naruto said, already zeroing in on a nearby wooden training dummy.

[4 Hours Later]

Naruto stood over the training dummy, panting heavily as he inspected the marks he'd made. The cuts were cleaner than before, though still far from perfect. He leaned on his Zweihander, his arms trembling from fatigue.

"Not terrible," Tenten said, appearing behind him like a shadow. "You're starting to understand what it means to use the blade properly. But we're not done yet."

Naruto groaned. "Of course we're not."

Tenten ignored him, raising her katana in a swift, practiced motion. "Next lesson: centerline control."

"What's that?" Naruto asked, dragging his sword upright.

"It's the imaginary line running down the middle of your opponent's body," Tenten explained, stepping into a combat stance. "Whoever controls the centerline controls the fight. Keeping your blade aligned with it forces your opponent to either attack you head-on or risk exposing themselves. If you let your sword drift off-center, you're wide open. Understand?"

Naruto nodded slowly.

"Good. Let's see how well you hold it."

Tenten closed the distance in an instant, pressing her katana lightly against Naruto's Zweihander and pushing it aside. "See? All I did was shift your blade a little, and now I've got a clear shot at your head. You can't let that happen."

Naruto adjusted his grip, trying to keep his sword aligned as Tenten moved around him, testing his control with quick jabs and feints. Every time his blade wavered, she struck—lightly tapping his shoulder, arm, or ribs to emphasize his openings.

"Stay grounded!" she barked. "Your arms can't do all the work. Use your stance! Let your whole body stabilize the blade!"

Gritting his teeth, Naruto widened his stance, bending his knees and lowering his center of gravity. Slowly but surely, he began to track her movements more effectively, keeping his blade steady even as she tried to throw him off balance.

"Better," Tenten said. "Now, here's your next solo drill: draw a line—chalk, rope, whatever—and practice moving while keeping your blade aligned with it. No rushing. Keep it slow and steady until it feels natural."

"Got it," Naruto said, determination burning in his eyes.

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

By the time the sun sank below the horizon, Naruto lay sprawled out on the grass. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest, and his hands felt raw enough to peel like overripe fruit.

"I'm dead. This is what death feels like."

Tenten strode over, her silhouette outlined by the fading light. Without a word, she tossed a small bottle onto his chest.

Naruto sat up with a pained hiss, glaring at the offending object. "What's this?" he asked suspiciously, uncapping it. One sniff had him recoiling like she'd thrown poison gas at him. "What the hell is this?!"

"Onion pineapple juice."

"That's illegal. That has to be illegal."

Tenten rolled her eyes. "Stop being dramatic. It's good for recovery. Pineapple helps with inflammation, and onion's packed with nutrients."

"Yeah, nutrients that'll kill me." Naruto shoved the bottle back at her like it might explode. "This isn't recovery—it's a war crime."

"Don't be such a baby, Uzumaki." Tenten leaned back on her hands. "You want to get stronger or not? I drink this all the time. Look at me—perfect condition."

Naruto squinted at her, skepticism all over his face. "Yeah, but you're also insane. That stuff's probably why."

Tenten smirked, her tone teasing as she tipped the bottle back and took a long sip without flinching. "Crazy enough to out-train you, maggot," she said, emphasizing the last word with a smirk. "Now drink it, or tomorrow you're doing another hundred swings—and I won't be nice about it."

Naruto groaned, pinching his nose as he took the tiniest sip. The second it touched his tongue, he gagged violently and practically threw the bottle back at her. "Nope! Nope! I'd rather die sore. You win."

Tenten shrugged, taking another sip like it was a glass of water. "Suit yourself. More for me."

Naruto flopped back onto the grass with an exaggerated groan. "You're evil, you know that? Like, pure evil."

"Better to be evil and strong than nice and weak," Tenten shot back. "But I guess you wouldn't know, seeing as you're still weak and nice."

"Wow," Naruto said. "Who knew you were so mean? Here I thought you were the pretty kunoichi who throws knives, but no—you're a total sadist."

"Pretty kunoichi, huh? Was that a compliment, Uzumaki?"

"Don't make it weird!"

"You're the one who said it," Tenten teased, tossing a pebble at him.

Naruto dodged it with a half-hearted glare, then turned to watch the last streaks of sunlight fading into twilight. For a moment, the two sat in companionable silence.

"Today was a good day."

"Yeah. A good day to learn I suck and I'm a maggot."

Tenten laughed. "I didn't mean it like that, you idiot. I was just trying to motivate you—get you fired up, you know? Push you to prove me wrong."

"Well, it worked," Naruto admitted, rolling his shoulder with a wince. "We got through the basics, and I think I can figure the rest out on my own. I mean, I kinda have to, right? No one here really knows how to use a Zweihander properly."

Tenten nodded. "Exactly. We can teach you the basics, but the rest is on you. You've got to make it your own."

"One week!"

Tenten blinked. "What?"

"I'll figure out my own style in one week."

Tenten snorted, trying—and failing—not to laugh. "Oh, sure. One week. You're going to master a fighting style in seven days. That's totally realistic." Her tone was laced with sarcasm, the kind people use when they're trying not to outright call someone delusional.

"You'll see. I've got a trick up my sleeve."

"Oh, this I've got to hear," Tenten said, leaning forward.

Naruto explained his shadow clone training method with the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for ramen. When he finished, Tenten stared at him, her jaw slack.

"That's such a bullshit jutsu."

Naruto laughed, already feeling his energy return. "Hey, don't hate the player, hate the jutsu. But think about it—if I use it right, I'll have my style in no time."

"Right," Tenten said. "And when you do, you can come back, and we'll spar. Swordsman to swordswoman."

"Deal." Naruto grinned. "But when I win, you've got to admit I'm better."

"When you win?" Tenten scoffed. "Keep dreaming, maggot. You're not ready to beat me yet."

"I'm serious!" Naruto said. "And when I do win, maybe I'll even teach you something. Swordsman to swordswoman."

"Sure, Uzumaki," Tenten said. "Swing by the blacksmith shop near the eastern edge of the forest when you're ready. I'll be waiting."

Naruto nodded, filing the address away. Then, with a sly grin, he added, "Oh, and don't worry—I'll bring an armor set for you. You're into armor, right? I've got a place I can get some."

"You're bringing me armor?!"

"I mean, you can't go around calling yourself a badass swordswoman without some awesome armor, right?"

Tenten rolled her eyes, though a faint blush dusted her cheeks.

The sunset bathed the training ground in warm hues, casting long shadows over the grass. The boy turned to glance at the horizon, the fading sunlight catching in his blue eyes before he looked back at her and smiled.

It was a simple smile—boyish and confident—but it caught her off guard. For a fleeting moment, she thought—no, realized—he was more handsome than Neji.

Her cheeks flared red at the thought. Tenten's crush on Neji had always been a shallow one. Sure, he was striking, with that long hair and stoic face, but every conversation with him was either a bitter rant about destiny or some jab at the Hyuga clan. There was nothing fun, nothing warm. If he hadn't been handsome, she doubted she would've bothered with him at all.

But Naruto? Naruto was different. He wasn't just handsome; he was hardworking, vibrant, full of energy and warmth. And he respected weapons.

For a split second, she thought his boyish grin suited him far too well. He wasn't like Neji—stoic and distant—but maybe that was the point. Naruto wasn't what she expected... and maybe that's why the teasing had felt fun. Real. She crushed the thought before it could linger.

Her thoughts spiraled as her face grew redder, and she clenched her fists in frustration. Get it together, Tenten!

Naruto laughed at something, breaking her internal crisis. The sound of his laugh—carefree and natural—sent her heart fluttering in a way she didn't know how to control.

Desperate to change the topic—and distract herself from her own thoughts—she blurted out, "You know, I wish I could do the Shadow Clone Jutsu."

Naruto hummed.

"Maybe I could've had a chance as a medical ninja," she added quietly, almost as if speaking to herself.

"I could teach you it."

Tenten blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"I could teach you the Shadow Clone Jutsu," he said casually, already considering how using Estus flasks to recover chakra could make it possible. Why not?

Could she really? No—that dream was buried for a reason.

"Forget it," Tenten said quickly, waving him off. "It's nothing, just a passing thought."

"Come on," Naruto pressed. "You could be more than just a weapons specialist."

Tenten froze.

Just a weapon specialist?

The words hit harder than she expected. The phrase dug up old memories and emotions she thought she'd buried long ago.

Her dream of becoming a medical ninja... the dream she'd abandoned.

It all came flooding back—the image of Tsunade, her role model, strong and compassionate, the greatest healer in the world. As a young girl, Tenten had idolized her, not for her strength or status, but for her ability to save lives. Tsunade had embodied everything Tenten had wanted to be: a healer, someone who could mend wounds instead of inflicting them, someone who brought hope instead of fear.

But reality had crushed that dream. Her chakra control hadn't been good enough, and no amount of effort seemed to fix it. She had tried and failed, over and over, until the truth became undeniable.

She wasn't talented enough.

So, she'd buried the dream. She'd turned to weapons instead—sharp, deadly, and reliable. She convinced herself that she loved them. And, to be fair, she did. But no matter how much she loved her weapons, they'd always been a second choice, a bitter consolation prize for a dream she couldn't reach.

The timing hadn't helped. It was around the same time she'd lost her mother, and the grief had made the rejection cut even deeper. She had thrown herself into training, determined to become the best weapons specialist in Konoha, not because it was her passion, but because she couldn't stand to feel like a failure.

No one knew about this. Not her sensei, not her teammates, not even her adoptive father. And now here was Naruto, oblivious as always, casually digging up something she'd worked so hard to bury.

"I think we're done here."

"Oi! Oi! Oi!" Naruto protested, scrambling to his feet. "What's that supposed to mean? What do you mean we're done?"

Tenten turned away, dusting off her training gear. She gave him one last look, her expression unreadable. "Hey, Naruto..."

"Yeah?"

"Where do you get off saying something like that?" she muttered. Tenten shook her head, more at herself than at him. "Forget it. Goodbye."

How does he do it? How does he say something so simple yet so painfully true?

"Hey! Tenten! Tenten!" Naruto called as she walked away, scratching the back of his head in frustration. "Where are you going?"

She didn't answer, leaving him standing there with a baffled expression.

Naruto sighed, slinging his Zweihander back over his shoulder. He hadn't even gotten to explain how she could become a medical ninja on top of being a weapons specialist. Whatever. He'd figure out how to help her later. For now, he needed to focus on his own training.

"Guess I'm off to Lordran," he muttered to himself. "She'll see. I'll master this, and we'll spar again. Swordsman to swordswoman."

With that, he turned toward the horizon, ready to continue his journey.

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

The house loomed before Naruto, its sprawling estate enclosed by high wooden walls capped with tiled roofs that curved upward at the edges. Beyond the tall gate, the peaks of intricate wooden structures were just visible, their lattice windows and sliding shoji screens lending the place a timeless elegance.

Naruto, however, wasn't one to admire architecture. He stood awkwardly at the gate, scratching the back of his head. "This is the place, right?" he muttered. He'd planned to head straight to Lordran, but Kakashi's clone had intercepted him, handing him this address before vanishing.

He knocked hesitantly.

The gate creaked open.

Naruto froze. No one was there.

"Who… who opened the door?" he asked aloud, his voice trembling. His imagination flared, conjuring images of haunted mansions. "Ghosts," he whispered, shivering. "I hate ghosts."

"It's not ghosts, kid," a gruff voice replied.

Naruto yelped, looking down to see a small, pug-like dog staring up at him. The dog's brown fur, dark snout, and pink paws were complemented by a blue vest, a bandage on one leg, and a Konoha forehead protector strapped across his head.

"Did… did you just talk?"

"No," the dog deadpanned.

Naruto squinted. "You just did."

The dog sighed. "Great. One of those types. I'm Pakkun. What do you want?"

"I'm here for Kakashi," Naruto replied, still eyeing the talking dog warily.

Pakkun tilted his head. "Wow, you recovered quickly. Most people are at least a little stunned by my devastatingly cute face."

Naruto raised an eyebrow. "I've seen stranger things, but what exactly are you?"

"I'm a Ninken, brat," Pakkun replied dryly. "A trained companion skilled in the art of chakra, and Kakashi's summon."

"So, you, like, help Kakashi?"

"That's right. I'm incredibly dangerous in combat, and my nose can track anyone," Pakkun said, sniffing the air. His frown deepened as he caught an unusual scent. The boy in front of him smelled like blood—but not the blood of any human or animal Pakkun had ever encountered. It was... off.

"What kind of weirdo did you drag me out here to check on, Kakashi?" Pakkun muttered, narrowing his eyes.

"You stink, brat," he added bluntly.

"Shut up, you ugly mutt!"

Pakkun raised a canine eyebrow. "Takes one to know one, brat."

"Hey! I'll have you know I'm handsome!"

"Sure you are," Pakkun said with a smirk. "Keep telling yourself that in the mirror, kid."

Naruto scowled, realizing he'd been baited. "Whatever. Where's Kakashi?"

Pakkun turned, pushing the gate open wider with his paw. "Follow me. And try not to trip over your ego on the way in."

Muttering under his breath, Naruto followed the pug into the estate. Inside, the grounds stretched even wider than he'd expected. The main building stood tall and elegant, framed by polished wooden beams and sliding doors. Stone paths wove through raked gravel gardens and neatly pruned shrubs, while lanterns hung under the eaves, swaying gently in the breeze.

Naruto glanced around as they walked. The interiors they passed were simple yet refined—polished wooden floors, tatami mats, and scrolls of calligraphy adorning the walls. Sunlight filtered through open shoji screens, casting soft patterns on the floor.

"You know," Naruto said, trailing behind Pakkun, "I didn't think Kakashi-sensei lived in a place like this. I figured he'd be sleeping in a pile of books somewhere."

Pakkun glanced back. "You think he just rolls out of a tree and magically shows up for your missions? Kakashi's got layers, kid. Like an onion."

Naruto snorted. "You're giving him way too much credit."

"And you don't know him as well as you think you do," Pakkun retorted smugly.

Before Naruto could respond, they turned a corner and stepped into the garden.

It was breathtaking. A koi pond glimmered in the sunlight, surrounded by moss-covered rocks and carefully pruned trees. Stone lanterns dotted the garden's edges, and the breeze carried scattered sakura petals across the grass.

But Naruto's attention wasn't on the garden.

It was on Kakashi and Sasuke.

Kakashi sat cross-legged on the wooden veranda, a brush in hand and a canvas before him. His usual lazy demeanor was replaced with quiet focus as he worked on a painting. Beside him, Sasuke stood near a much larger canvas. His fingers were dipped in black ink, and as Naruto watched, Sasuke pressed his palm against the canvas. With careful chakra control, the splattered ink shifted and spread, transforming into an elegant bird mid-flight.

Naruto froze, his eyes narrowing. "No… way."

"Oh, Naruto. You're here."

Naruto didn't answer, still staring at Sasuke. "What… what is this? Art lessons? Are you two bonding over finger painting or something?"

Pakkun snorted. "What, you thought Kakashi spent all his time reading smut? He's got hobbies. Unlike some people."

"Hey! I have hobbies!"

"Yelling doesn't count," Pakkun said, laying his head on his paws.

Naruto ignored him, stomping toward the veranda. "Seriously, Kakashi-sensei, what's going on here? And since when does Sasuke paint?" He gestured wildly at Sasuke's canvas, which now depicted a hawk perched on a tree branch.

Stolen story; please report.

Sasuke didn't look at him. "Tch. It's called relaxing, dobe. You wouldn't understand."

"Oh, I understand plenty!" Naruto folded his arms, glaring. "I just didn't think you'd be into… this!"

Finally, Sasuke glanced at him, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "And yet, I'm still better than you. At everything."

"Why, you—"

"Enough," Kakashi said, cutting him off with a sigh. Setting down his brush, he leaned back on his hands. "Naruto, I actually wanted to talk to you about something."

"Yeah? What is it?"

Kakashi paused, clearly choosing his words carefully. "It's about Tenten. She's decided to step down as your kenjutsu mentor."

"Huh? Why? We were having so much fun!"

"It's what you said."

"What I said?" Naruto scratched his head, trying to remember. "What did I say?"

"You told her she could 'also be a medical ninja rather than just being a weapon specialist.'"

"Okay…" Naruto said slowly, not understanding.

"You undermined her," Sasuke interjected, finally turning away from his canvas. "Tenten has worked hard to become a weapon specialist. And then you, someone she's been helping, casually tell her she could be more than the very thing she's dedicated herself to."

Naruto's face scrunched up in confusion. "But that's not what I meant! I was just trying to help—"

"Intent doesn't matter," Sasuke cut him off. "To her, it sounded like you dismissed everything she's worked for. You don't get to decide what's 'enough' for someone else, dobe."

The realization hit Naruto like a ton of bricks. He stared at Sasuke, then at Kakashi, then back at Sasuke. "Oh… Oh!"

Naruto jumped to his feet, spinning toward the gate. "I've gotta go apologize—"

Kakashi grabbed the back of his collar, yanking him to a stop. "Not so fast, Naruto."

"But I didn't mean it like that!" Naruto protested, tugging against Kakashi's hold. "I just wanted to say she could be a medical ninja too! Like, on top of being a weapons specialist!"

"And do you think she's going to listen to you right now?"

Naruto opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. He deflated slightly, his shoulders slumping.

"Exactly," Kakashi continued. "Tenten's upset. If you rush in now, she's not going to hear your apology—just more excuses."

Naruto frowned. "So what am I supposed to do? Just wait around?"

"Let her cool off first," Kakashi advised. "Then apologize."

"Second chances, right?" Naruto asked hesitantly.

"Second chances come after proof of change, not before," Sasuke said bluntly.

Naruto nodded slowly, his expression serious. He knew he'd have to show Tenten he didn't mean it the way it sounded—and that he truly wanted to continue their sword training.

"So what am I supposed to do now?"

Kakashi leaned back. "Well, you could always join us. Maybe painting will help you relax."

"Training's over for today," he added. "You can either go home and enjoy the rest of your day… or waste a few more hours here with us."

"I don't know."

"Why not waste a few more?" Kakashi replied. "Plenty of ink and canvas to go around."

"Don't bother, Kakashi," Sasuke said without looking up, dipping his hand into the ink. "The dobe's just scared."

Naruto's fists clenched. "Scared? Of this? Oh, I'll show you who's scared!" He stomped forward. "Give me that canvas."

Kakashi handed him a blank canvas and a pot of ink, his single eye crinkling in amusement. "Be my guest. Let's see what you've got."

Naruto dipped his hand into the ink, staring at his blackened palm. For a moment, he hesitated, the garden silent except for the rustling leaves.

Kakashi leaned back on the veranda, propping his chin on his hand. "This should be… interesting."

From his corner, Pakkun chuckled softly. "I give it five seconds before he makes a mess."

"Shut up, dog!"

Ignoring him, Naruto focused on the blank canvas. This wasn't just any painting style. It was ink-stroke art—something he vaguely remembered from Tobirama's journal. It wasn't just artistic expression; it was tied to Uzumaki combat techniques, a cornerstone of their fighting style.

The journal had described how Uzumaki children learned to infuse chakra into ink, creating seals with a single touch. With precision and mastery, a simple stroke could transform into a weapon, a barrier—or even an explosion.

The realization made Naruto's blood boil. Why hadn't anyone taught him this? If Kakashi knew about it, why wasn't it passed down to him? His fists tightened, smearing the ink slightly.

"Careful," Kakashi said, breaking Naruto's spiraling thoughts. "Chakra manipulation is all about control and visualization. Picture the image in your head. Let your chakra flow into the ink. Don't force it."

Naruto gave a curt nod but couldn't fully suppress his frustration. He pressed his palm to the canvas, trying to channel his chakra—but his emotions were too chaotic. The ink splattered across the surface in jagged lines, uncontrolled and messy.

Silence fell.

Naruto stared at the chaotic mess he'd made, and a passage from Tobirama's journal surfaced in his mind:

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

The Uzumaki clan has always been peculiar in their approach to fuinjutsu. While the world sees it as a tool of precision and power, the Uzumaki call it something else: Runes. Not a craft. Not a science. A language.

Each rune is a word, each stroke a sentence—or even an entire story, emotion, or idea condensed into a spiral. To the Uzumaki, fuinjutsu is not just action but communication, a way to etch meaning into existence itself. Arrogant as it may sound, they believe their seals speak to the very fabric of the universe.

I presented the Flying Thunder God Technique to Uzushio's elders, expecting praise for its brilliance. Instead, they dismissed it as a "barbarically complex sentence that tears space for nothing more than victory." They called it crude and meaningless, unworthy of the "true language of runes." Their leader even told me, "Power without meaning is empty, like a scream into the void. It echoes, but it holds no weight."

At the time, I was furious. What use is "weight" in war if you are dead? What is meaning without the strength to enforce it? But their philosophy lingered in my mind. The Uzumaki seals endure in ways others cannot. They do not simply bind or destroy—they grow, adapt, and evolve. Their strength defies the entropy of lesser techniques. It almost feels alive.

I still don't fully grasp their view. Perhaps, bound by pragmatism, I never will. Yet I cannot help but wonder if they see something I do not: a truth beyond logic, beyond efficiency. Have I, in my pursuit of mastery, overlooked the possibility that power can serve something greater than itself?

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

Naruto clenched his fists, staring at the chaotic ink splatter. The weight of those words pressed on him, but they also sparked something. This wasn't just about making seals or creating a tool. This was about learning to communicate—through ink, through chakra, through himself.

He took a deep breath and dipped his hand into the ink again. This time, he cleared his mind and focused. No anger. No frustration. Just intent.

Naruto stared at the messy black spiral forming on his canvas. His chakra had shaped the ink, but it was wild, uneven—alive, yet untamed. The swirling lines reminded him of the Uzumaki spiral but, ironically, also the Darksign.

He blinked, shutting his eyes briefly as Tobirama's words echoed in his mind:

Power without meaning is empty, like a scream into the void.

Maybe that was why he looked toward power in Lordran rather than Konoha. Lordran held meaning for him, and that meaning had power.

"Here," Kakashi said, handing him a fresh canvas. His calm voice broke through Naruto's thoughts, steadying him. "Try again."

Naruto hesitated, staring at the blank canvas. "Sensei, where'd you learn this ink-painting stuff?"

Kakashi paused, his wooden brush hovering mid-stroke. His voice softened. "My sensei's wife taught me."

Naruto tilted his head. "Your sensei's wife? She knew this?"

Kakashi nodded, his gaze distant. "She was an incredible woman. Strong, wise, full of life. She taught me this a long time ago. She said it wasn't just about creating—it was about connecting to yourself. Putting something meaningful into your work." He set his brush down gently. "She passed away years ago."

The air grew heavy, a quiet weight settling over the garden. Naruto and Sasuke exchanged a glance, sensing the depth of Kakashi's words.

"Alright, sensei," Naruto said, rolling up his sleeves with determination. "You're gonna love this." He dipped his hand back into the ink, this time visualizing Kakashi's masked face. Focusing harder than before, he poured his chakra into the strokes.

A few minutes later, he held up the finished product proudly. "Tada! My masterpiece!"

The painting… was passable. Kakashi's masked face was recognizable, but the proportions were wobbly, and the lines shook with inexperience.

Kakashi tilted his head, amusement glinting in his eye. "How much for this masterpiece? My wallet's feeling light."

"My services don't come cheap," Naruto replied with mock seriousness. "But for you, 10 yen."

"I don't know. I can probably spend it on something meaningful."

"Like another copy of that smutty book you love so much," Sasuke cut in dryly, holding up his own canvas.

Naruto's jaw dropped. Sasuke's painting was flawless—an elegant, detailed portrait of Kakashi, shaded to perfection. Every line was deliberate, every detail precise. It looked more like something from a gallery than a quick garden sketch.

"What the heck is this?!"

"It's art," Sasuke said smugly, already cleaning his hands.

Naruto growled, dipping his fingers back into the ink. He scribbled furiously, creating an exaggerated stick figure with spiky hair, a scowl, and a large dunce hat labeled "EMO."

"This is you!"

Sasuke's eye twitched, and without a word, he dipped his brush back into the ink. Sparks flew as the two launched into an impromptu painting war, their competitive streaks fueling chaos. Ink splattered across the veranda, canvases were tossed like weapons, and the peaceful garden erupted into a full-blown mess.

From his sunny corner, Pakkun stretched lazily, watching the chaos unfold. "You know," he said, glancing at Kakashi, "this place hasn't been this noisy in years."

Kakashi leaned back, his gaze on the two boys. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mask. "It's kind of nice, isn't it?"

Pakkun snorted. "Nice? Sure. But let's not pretend you won't make me clean this up later."

"You've got paws, Pakkun. I'll lend you a mop," Kakashi said lightly.

The pug rolled his eyes. "Generous as ever. But let's face it—you like this chaos."

Kakashi's gaze lingered on Naruto and Sasuke, their laughter cutting through the mess and noise. The garden was alive in a way it hadn't been in years. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I think I do."

Pakkun glanced at Kakashi, his expression unusually serious. "You know, I can't figure this kid out—and that's rare for me."

"Go on," Kakashi said.

"I know you sent me to sniff him out intentionally," Pakkun said, voice low. "And I picked up something... unusual. The boy reeks of blood."

"How recent?"

"It's hard to say," Pakkun admitted. "Some of it's fresh, maybe from this week. But it's faint—almost like it's been burned off by something."

"Burned off?"

"Yeah. It's like he tried to cover his tracks, and not just with chemicals and water. Fire, maybe chakra. It's subtle, but if it weren't for my nose, no one would notice."

Kakashi frowned, his mind racing.

"So," Pakkun continued, watching Kakashi closely. "What are you going to do about it?"

"For now? Nothing," Kakashi said evenly. "I need Naruto to trust me first. If he's going out of his way to erase evidence of his actions, confronting him could drive him further into hiding."

"You're playing a risky game, Kakashi."

"Maybe," Kakashi admitted, his voice quiet. "But Naruto's connection to the Third Hokage is already fragile. Pushing too hard now could make things worse. At least now we're aware of it—and that's a start."

"Fair enough," Pakkun said, turning his head slightly. "But if the kid's tangled up in something serious, you'll have to act sooner or later."

Kakashi didn't respond immediately, his gaze distant. "I'll handle it when the time comes," he finally said.

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

Fu Yamanaka's existence was born of war—violence, silence, and truths too bitter for anyone to acknowledge. During the Third Shinobi War, when morality fractured beneath the weight of survival, terrible things happened. Shinobi interrogators from every village crossed unspeakable lines. Konoha, and its clans, were no exception.

The incident wasn't unique. A Yamanaka interrogator raped a captured kunoichi. Violations like this were common in wartime, buried under whispers and excuses. But this time, the kunoichi became pregnant, and suddenly, the shame couldn't be ignored. The Yamanaka Clan, obsessed with their reputation, acted not out of justice but politics.

The interrogator was swiftly tried and executed—not for his crime but for what it represented: a threat to the clan's prestige. Evidence was destroyed, witnesses silenced. But the child was a problem they couldn't erase. By the time the pregnancy was discovered, it was too late to terminate. Quiet suggestions were made about "dealing with" the infant after birth, but even wartime Konoha had limits. The clan refused to raise him; the scandal was too fresh, too risky.

The solution came in the form of Root.

Root, founded during the First Shinobi War, was Konoha's shadow—operating outside the law to protect the village through assassinations, espionage, and sabotage. Danzo Shimura, its leader, believed that Konoha's ideals—the Will of Fire and camaraderie—were luxuries. Root existed to shield the village from the things it refused to see.

Root recruits were stripped of identity and emotion through brutal conditioning. Orphans, outcasts, and unwanted children became its tools. Fu, the Yamanaka bastard, was perfect for this purpose. In Root, he would cease to exist as an individual and become nothing more than a weapon.

From the moment he could walk, Fu was trained to suppress his emotions, hone his chakra, and obey without question. He was taught a single truth: he didn't matter. Only the village mattered. Only the mission mattered.

When the Kyuubi attacked Konoha, the chaos led to Root's official disbandment. The Third Hokage stripped Danzo of authority, dispersing Root operatives across the village. Psychological screenings were conducted, and most members were reassigned to legitimate roles.

But Danzo had planned for this. Root's indoctrination ensured its agents could blend into society, their loyalty unshaken. Many passed the Hokage's screenings undetected, remaining loyal to Danzo in secret. Fu was one of these ghosts.

He became a quiet member of the Barrier Corps, a nameless cog in Konoha's vast machine. On paper, he was unremarkable—a chunin tasked with monitoring the detection barrier.

Fu's persona was his true mask. To his colleagues, he was polite but distant, diligent but forgettable. His black shinobi uniform bore no clan insignia, his pale brown hair cropped short in an unassuming style. His hazel eyes, a Yamanaka trait, were calm and unreadable. He spoke only when necessary and moved with quiet precision.

Fu liked it that way. Attachments were liabilities. Standing out was a risk. His existence had a single purpose: obey Danzo's orders. Nothing else mattered.

Fu's day began at sunrise. He arrived at the Barrier Corps HQ, exchanged brief nods with his colleagues, and took his seat at a monitoring station. The stations were arranged in a ring around a central console, where their supervisor oversaw the operation. Each station was equipped with a crystal orb linked to Konoha's detection barrier, displaying chakra signatures as glowing dots across the surface.

"Morning, Fu," Sora greeted as she plopped into the seat beside him. Her short black hair bounced as she leaned lazily on her console.

"Morning," Fu replied flatly, his tone polite but devoid of warmth.

"Let me guess," she teased, "you've been here since dawn. Never late, always quiet, the perfect shinobi. Bet you meditate before your shift."

"I don't."

"Okay, fine. Maybe you're one of those mysterious types who writes poetry at home. Something dramatic, like 'The silent wind moves across the barrier.'"

"No."

"You're no fun."

"You're loud," Fu replied simply, his tone still neutral. The words hung long enough to silence her without offense.

Sora rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath but grinning anyway.

"Less gossip, more work," their supervisor, Tetsuya, barked from the center of the room, arms crossed over his chest.

"Got it, sir," Sora replied with a mock salute before turning back to her console.

The orb before Fu displayed Konoha's countless chakra signatures—thousands of glowing dots, each representing a life. Most operators tracked anomalies, logging disturbances and movements across the village.

But Fu's focus was different.

Among the signatures, one burned brighter than all the others: Naruto Uzumaki. His chakra was chaotic and wild, a raging storm impossible to miss. Fu had taken measures to ensure no one else noticed. Through subtle manipulations, he diverted the system's attention elsewhere, masking Naruto's unusual activity. To everyone else, Naruto was just another dot.

"Hey, did you hear about Sakura Haruno?" Sora asked, breaking the silence.

Fu didn't look up. "No."

"She's joining us—Barrier Corps, I mean. Can you believe it? Kakashi pulled strings to get her in. Word is, she's got insane chakra control. Like, med-nin level."

"Unusual for a genin," Fu replied, only because the information could be relevant to Root.

"Right? Tetsuya, think she'll last?"

"Focus," Tetsuya snapped.

Sora sighed. "You guys are impossible. Ever heard of fun?"

Fu ignored her, his eyes fixed on the orb. The orange flare of Naruto's chakra signature flickered—and vanished.

His fingers moved instinctively, logging the event and rerouting the anomaly to a secondary console before anyone else noticed.

"An alert?" Sora asked, glancing over.

"Nothing significant," Fu said evenly. His voice was calm, uninterested, the perfect mask. "Just a civilian chakra spike. Routed it to Console 4."

Sora shrugged, already bored. "Man, civilians and their weird chakra surges. Always overreacting."

Fu's focus returned to the orb. Naruto's chakra hadn't just moved out of range—it had disappeared entirely, snuffed out like a dying flame. It was always the same. Root intelligence suspected some form of space-time ninjutsu, but the specifics eluded them.

Whatever it was, Naruto's chakra acted as though he'd died.

Fu didn't wonder why. It wasn't his role to question. With the precision drilled into him by Root, he rebalanced the logs and erased any trace of the anomaly. As far as the Barrier Corps was concerned, Naruto Uzumaki's chakra was perfectly normal.

"You're quiet today," Sora said. "Not even curious about the new recruit?"

"I'm focused on my work."

"Of course you are." She muttered something under her breath, leaning back in her chair. "Let me know if you ever decide to act human."

Fu said nothing.

It wasn't that he lacked curiosity or emotion. He had buried them long ago, along with his humanity. He didn't care about Naruto's vanishings or Sakura Haruno's potential. None of it mattered.

Only the mission mattered. Only Root's orders mattered.

Observe. Record. Remain unseen.

All in service of Root, Danzo, and the shadowed will of Konoha.

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

Naruto opened his eyes slowly, blinking as the familiar glow of the bonfire filled his vision. The sword, coiled and rusted, was driven deep into the ashen floor, its flames crackling and spitting embers into the air. The comforting sound of fire and the faint warmth brushing against his skin made him smile. He had come to love the sight of the bonfire. The sword, the ash, the ever-burning flame—it wasn't just a checkpoint or a momentary reprieve from danger. It had become a refuge, a reminder that he could always come back from whatever hardships he faced.

It reminded him of Konoha's Hokage Monument. Back home, when things became overwhelming—when the loneliness crept in, when exhaustion dragged him down—he'd climb to the top of the monument and stare out at the village below. From there, everything seemed small, manageable, distant. But now Lordran had taken that place. The bonfire had become his new monument. A place to reset. A place where everything felt possible again.

Naruto took a deep breath, letting the moment sink in, before his gaze swept across the room. Piles of debris near the entrance hinted at collapse, while weathered barrels and rotted baskets sat untouched in the corners—remnants of a long-dead world. But there was no time to linger.

As he stepped toward the room's exit, his senses sharpened with the Way of Focality, and the faint whistle of an arrow cutting through the air reached his ears. Naruto turned sharply, just in time to watch the arrow streak past his helmet.

He glared in the direction the arrow had come from. There the crossbow hollows stood hunched, reloading another bolt.

Naruto darted forward, leaping into the air as he neared the hollow. His body twisted mid-air, and with a powerful flying kick, his foot connected with the hollow's chest. The creature staggered backward, arms flailing, before it toppled off the edge of the crumbling floor, its crossbow slipping from its grip and clattering into the abyss below.

Naruto didn't have time to gloat.

The sound of footsteps echoed from the narrow passage below.

Gripping the Zweihander tightly, Naruto shifted into position. As the first hollow lunged, he stepped forward and swung the massive blade in a wide, sweeping arc. The force of the strike cleaved through the air and connected cleanly, sending the hollow sprawling to the floor in a lifeless heap.

Another hollow charged, its sword raised high for a downward slash. Naruto ducked low, the blade passing harmlessly over him, and immediately spun with the Zweihander in hand. Its edge tore through his enemy's midsection in a clean, devastating blow.

Naruto paused to settle his breath, when a faint whistle reached his ears. He leapt forward, tucking into a roll just as the bomb exploded behind him.

Above, a hollow stood on a ledge, clutching another firebomb in its skeletal grip.

"Oh, great. I forgot you also exist in this world."

Naruto reached into his pouch, pulling out kunai and shuriken. A kunai collided mid-air with the firebomb in the hollow's hand, causing it to explode prematurely. The hollow staggered, its footing uneven. Naruto's shuriken twisted, slicing into its leg. The hollow lost balance and fell from the ledge into the abyss below.

Naruto approached the half-destroyed stone bridge cautiously, his eyes scanning the open room at the other end. Two hollows waited, each armed with an axe.

"Let's see how you handle this."

With a burst of speed, he activated Shunshin no Jutsu, his form blurring as he dashed forward. Before the first hollow could react, Naruto thrust the greatsword forward, its blade piercing through the hollow's chest. He twisted the blade as he pulled it free, and the hollow collapsed in a heap.

The second hollow wasted no time, raising its axe for a downward slash. Naruto jumped back, narrowly avoiding the strike as the axe buried itself into the stone floor. His grin widened.

"Finally, a little practice," he muttered.

Naruto adjusted his grip on the Zweihander, recalling Tenten's lesson: Centerline control and edge alignment. He stepped into a basic stance as the hollow attacked. Its swing came wide, from Naruto's right to left. He met the strike with his blade, but his angle was off—the Zweihander glanced awkwardly off the axe, leaving him open.

"Damn," Naruto muttered, resetting his stance.

The hollow attacked again, its axe coming down in an overhead chop. Naruto sidestepped, adjusting his blade with care, and redirected the axe with a sharp deflection.

The Zweihander felt heavy in his hands, but Naruto welcomed the challenge. The hollow wasn't much of a threat, but it made for a decent training partner—at least until the door at the end of the room slammed open with a deafening crash.

A new hollow stepped through, this one wielding a spear.

Naruto focused as the axe-wielding hollow lunged. He dodged with a quick sidestep, but the spear hollow followed, thrusting its weapon toward his chest. Naruto twisted, the spear grazing his side as he rolled backward to create distance.

"Alright," he said, smirking despite the odds. "Let's dance."

He could summon shadow clones to handle them, but how would he improve if he always took the easy way out?

The spear hollow lunged again, its strikes faster and more aggressive. Naruto parried with the Zweihander, redirecting the spear's tip and countering with a sweeping arc that forced both enemies to back off.

The axe hollow came next, swinging in a wide horizontal arc. Naruto ducked low, rolling forward and coming up swinging. The Zweihander severed its legs cleanly, leaving the hollow crumpled on the floor.

The spear hollow wasn't done. It lunged again, its strikes relentless. Naruto sidestepped, his balance unshakable—thanks to the rusted ring he'd found earlier.

When the spear hollow overextended with a powerful thrust, Naruto seized his moment. He stepped inside its guard, raising the Zweihander high, and brought it down in a brutal overhead strike. The blade cleaved the hollow from shoulder to hip.

Naruto exhaled, resting the Zweihander on his shoulder as he surveyed the now-empty room.

Naruto gave the window a flat look as the hollows on the upper floor kept chucking firebombs at the bridge and the closest window to him. The flames flared, crackling as they splattered uselessly against the stone and wood.

"What a waste," he muttered, raising his fist at them like an old man yelling at kids. "I'll gladly throw you off those roofs myself, you hear me, dattebayo." His voice echoed back at him. They didn't respond.

He shook his head and turned his attention to the room. Two paths. One led outside, back to the bridge, and the other was this rusty, moss-covered metal cage door. Naruto squinted at it. Honestly, he'd missed it the first time through, probably because it blended into the damp, mossy wall like it belonged there.

"Where do you lead?" he mumbled, curiosity getting the better of him. He approached the door, grabbing the handle and giving it a solid pull. The door didn't budge. A faint message shimmered into view.

[Can't open this door from this side.]

Naruto frowned, stepping back and glaring at the stubborn thing. "Is this another one of those magic locks like in the sewer? Stupid door," he muttered under his breath before sighing. "Fine. I'll come back later."

He turned to walk away but stopped mid-step as a thought hit him. A grin spread across his face, the plan forming in his head. "Wait a second… I can summon shadow clones at a distance, right?"

He quickly made the cross sign with his fingers, and with a puff of smoke, another Naruto appeared—on the other side of the door. Both of them cheered at the success of the plan.

"Alright, open the door," he said, feeling pretty proud of himself.

The clone pulled at the handle and frowned. "Uh… it says I need a key."

Naruto's grin dropped instantly. "Seriously?" He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Of course, it wasn't going to be that easy. Fine, just… look around, see if you can find anything useful."

"Got it!" the clone chirped before wandering off.

Grumbling, Naruto turned back to the room and headed toward the outside path. He started down a few steps when he heard a low growl. He turned sharply, glancing back toward the window. A hollow stood there, its face pressed against the bars like a creepy neighbor staring into his house.

"Yo," Naruto said, raising a hand in mock greeting. Its head twitched in response, its dead eyes narrowing.

His eyes flicked to the door leading into the room. A wicked grin spread across his face as he grabbed the hilt of his Zweihander, the blade gleaming even in the light. "Oh, I'm gonna kill you right now, believe it!"

Meanwhile, the Naruto clone found himself in a precarious spot—a narrow stone staircase clinging to the edge of a wall. It zigzagged downward in sharp, twisting turns, forcing him to tread carefully with each step. The air was damp and cold, the faint scent of mildew clinging to the ancient stone. As he descended, the view shifted, revealing the lower parts of the kingdom. Broken houses and crumbling rooftops stretched out below, the remnants of what must have once been a bustling city. Now, it was eerily silent, save for the distant crackle of fire.

At the bottom of the staircase, the clone found himself at a crossroads. To his right was a rusted red ladder leading upward. To his left, a stone staircase wound further downward, ending in a small platform where a strange fire burned in a cracked brazier.

The clone hesitated, squinting down the left path at the flickering flame.

"Yeah, I'll just go with the ladder."

But before he could take a step, he heard it—a sound that immediately sent a chill down his spine.

It started as a faint, rapid clicking, almost rhythmic, like claws scraping against stone. Then came the panting, sharp and uneven, like air being sucked through teeth. The sound grew louder, faster, and more frantic, echoing through the space as something bounded toward him.

Naruto's clone froze, his senses sharpening as he activated the Way of Focality. He turned just in time to see the source of the noise—and it was worse than he could have imagined.

The dog, if it could even be called that, was a nightmare made flesh. Its emaciated body was stretched unnaturally long, with patches of skin missing, exposing raw muscle and bone beneath. Its oversized mouth hung open, sharp, crooked teeth jutting out at odd angles as if they were too big for its maw. The way its lips pulled back made its grin look impossibly wide and sinister. Its torn, tattered ears stood erect, and its glowing, feral eyes locked onto the clone with unrelenting aggression.

"...You are so ugly," the clone muttered, tightening his grip on the Zweihander. He spun into a slash, aiming to cleave the creature in half like he would a hollow. But this wasn't a hollow. The dog twisted mid-air, dodging the brunt of the attack, and its grotesque mouth opened even wider as it leapt straight for him.

Its teeth snapped shut inches from the clone's throat, the force of the attack overwhelming him. The dog hit its target, and the clone popped out of existence in a puff of smoke.

The memories hit the original. One moment, he was smirking at the hollow stumbling toward him, and the next, he was reliving the sensation of those snapping teeth and glowing eyes. He shuddered, his skin crawling. "What the hell was that thing?!"

The hollow before him growled, dragging Naruto's attention back to the present.

Before the hollow could swing, the blonde boy spun on his heel and delivered a powerful kick to its chest. The hollow stumbled backward, its arms flailing as it tumbled off the balcony with a guttural shriek, disappearing into the fog below.

"Good riddance," Naruto muttered, brushing himself off.

Another growl came from the far side of the balcony. Naruto turned to see a second hollow, this one gripping its sword tightly as it advanced toward him.

"You know, I always imagined my first romantic balcony moment going differently."

Channeling his chakra into his fists, Naruto grinned as he felt the familiar rush of power surge through his body. He'd been practicing this lately, honing his chakra control to amplify his body enhancement.

The hollow swung its blade in a wide arc. Naruto ducked under it with ease, stepping forward and planting his feet firmly. With his chakra-enhanced strength, he delivered a devastating right hook directly to the hollow's head.

The impact was explosive. The hollow's skull crumpled under the force, bone and rotted flesh splattering against the stone wall as its lifeless body crumpled to the floor.

"Hell yeah!" Naruto cheered, flexing his fingers. "Now that's what I'm talking about!"

Turning back toward the balcony, Naruto debated whether to explore deeper into the room. It looked like it might've been a shop once—there were shelves and counters, though they were worn and covered in moss. The smell of mold lingered in the air, but something about the place caught his eye.

A treasure chest sat near the far corner, its wooden exterior surprisingly intact despite the decay of the rest of the room.

He walked over and knelt in front of the chest, grinning as he flipped open the lid. Inside, nestled on a bed of faded cloth, was a couple of black firebombs.

"Whoa." Naruto held it up, inspecting the strange, dark explosive. "Is this, like… stronger or something?" He tucked it into his pouch. "Guess I'll find out later."

As he stood to leave, his gaze wandered back to the shelves lining the shop. Most of the furniture was ancient and rotting, but the mugs and plates scattered across the counters were surprisingly intact.

"Hmm… they don't look half bad. Little dusty, but nothing a good wash won't fix."

Grinning to himself, Naruto began gathering the mugs and plates, tossing them into his inventory with glee.

Naruto ascended the stone staircase, his footsteps echoing softly in the narrow corridor. High stone walls flanked him on both sides, their imposing height giving the pathway an almost oppressive feeling. As he reached the top, his gaze was drawn to the horizon. A towering stone castle loomed in the distance. Rounded and straight sections of the structure blended together seamlessly, battlements lining the top edges. It was breathtaking in its own way, the craftsmanship almost untouched by time.

But Naruto didn't linger. He wasn't here to sightsee. His attention snapped to the open area before him, where three hollows stood. Two of them clutched rusted swords, pacing aimlessly, while the third stood in the back, gripping a firebomb in its bony hand.

Naruto exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders.

As he stepped into the open, the two sword-wielding hollows lunged at him simultaneously. Naruto smirked, weaving a hand sign in an instant.

Poof!

A log appeared where he had been, and the two swords cut deep into it, splintering it into pieces. Naruto, now behind them, reappeared in a swirl of smoke directly in front of the hollow holding the firebomb.

Before it could react, Naruto grabbed the firebomb out of its hand. "Oh, you like throwing these, huh?" he said, shoving the bomb directly into the hollow's gaping mouth. With his free hand, he delivered an uppercut to its jaw.

The hollow's head snapped back, its mouth clamping down on the firebomb as it staggered. For a second, there was silence. Then, with a thunderous explosion, the firebomb detonated, blowing the hollow's skull apart. Bone, ash, and bits of flesh flew in every direction as a shockwave rippled outward, scorching the ground. Naruto felt the heat wash over him and ducked, shielding his face with his arm as the blast sent sparks and debris flying.

The two hollows behind him let out guttural roars as they were knocked back by the force of the explosion.

In an instant, Naruto vanished once more, reappearing behind the two hollows. Before they could react, he gripped the Zweihander in both hands and swung in a wide, brutal arc. The blade whistled through the air before cleaving through both hollows with a sickening crunch.

Naruto rested the massive sword on his shoulder, turning to glance at the red ladder propped against the wall nearby. "Finally," he said, exhaling. "A way to get to those firebomb-throwing bastards."

Naruto climbed the ladder, the metal rungs creaking slightly under his weight. As he reached the top, he paused, crouching low as he surveyed the area. The platform was a simple wooden structure, rough and weathered with age. The planks were uneven, some with gaps between them, and the whole thing was supported by basic wooden beams underneath.

Two hollows wandered aimlessly across the bridge, their feet clicking against the wood as they shuffled back and forth. Near the edge of the platform, Naruto spotted a corpse slumped against the railing, a faint glow emanating from it—a soul orb.

Good.

But first, he needed to deal with the hollows.

But first, he needed to deal with the hollows. He weaved a quick hand sign, his body shimmering slightly as he performed a transformation jutsu—he refracted and reflected light to camouflage himself. Like a true shinobi, Naruto crept forward, his footsteps silent. Each step was deliberate, his weight distributed perfectly to avoid any creaks from the fragile wood.

He reached the middle of the platform, standing between the two hollows, neither of which had noticed him.

A smoke bomb flew through the air, exploding into a thick cloud of black that engulfed the entire platform. In the chaos, Naruto created a dozen shadow clones, each one materializing with a wicked grin.

The clones moved as one, grabbing the two hollows and pinning them by their arms and shoulders. The creatures thrashed and roared, their movements frantic and jerky, but the clones held them tight.

Naruto emerged from the smoke, walking toward the bound hollows with an air of superiority. His hands were tucked into his pockets, his grin confident as he stopped in front of them.

"Not so tough now, huh? Throwing firebombs down at me like cowards. What, did you think I wouldn't come up here and handle this myself? Please." He crossed his arms, tilting his head mockingly. "You're lucky I'm even wasting my time on you two."

The hollows let out guttural growls, their glowing eyes filled with aggression. Naruto chuckled, shaking his head. "You know what? Forget it. You're not even worth it, dattebayo."

He waved a hand dismissively at his clones. "Get rid of them."

The clones nodded in unison, each gripping a hollow tightly as they dragged them toward the edge of the platform. The two creatures thrashed harder, their skeletal legs kicking wildly, but it was no use. With a collective shove, the clones threw the hollows over the side.

Naruto walked to the edge, peering down as the two forms tumbled into the abyss below, their growls fading into silence. "And stay down," he muttered.

Naruto reached for the glowing soul orb, his hand outstretched. His eyes darted to the tower to his right, and time seemed to slow as he saw it: a crossbow hollow, skeletal fingers tightening on the trigger. The bolt fired with a sharp twang, cutting through the air like a whistle of death.

Naruto's instincts kicked in. He moved fast, his hand snapping upward and catching the bolt mid-flight. The elite knight's helmet might have stopped it, sure—but it still would've rattled his brain, and Naruto wasn't about to let a damn crossbow hollow get the better of him.

"I don't know who I hate more," he muttered, tossing the bolt aside as he narrowed his eyes at the hollow. "Crossbow hollows or firebomb assholes."

Without wasting another second, Naruto jumped forward, landing on the floor below with a sharp thud that echoed through the empty ruins. He broke into a sprint, his boots slamming against the stone as he made a beeline for the spiral staircase leading up the tower. The hollow was already reloading, but Naruto was ready.

A fireball flared to life in his palm, its heat washing over his face as he hurled it with pinpoint accuracy. The fireball soared through the air, detonating on impact. The explosion engulfed the hollow, disintegrating its weapon in a spray of splinters and metal fragments.

Naruto didn't stop. He charged up the stairs and reached the hollow in an instant. Before it could react, he slapped an explosive tag onto its chest with a grin. "Let's see how far you can fly," he said, lowering his shoulder and slamming into the hollow with all his might.

The hollow let out a distorted screech as Naruto tackled it clean off the tower. Its skeletal body tumbled through the air, the explosive tag still clinging to its chest. It hit the staircase below with a sickening crunch, its bones shattering on impact.

Naruto peered down at the wreckage, smirking as he saw two spear hollows at the base of the staircase, slowly ascending toward him. He whistled sharply, catching their attention.

The hollows began to climb. Naruto waited until they were halfway up before forming the hand sign.

"Kai!"

The explosive tag detonated, the blast tearing through the air and sending debris flying. When the smoke cleared, the spear hollows were still standing—barely. Their armor was blown apart, their weapons shattered, but their relentless march continued.

"Tough bastards, huh?" Naruto muttered. He reached into his pouch, pulling out a handful of shurikens. With a flick of his wrist, the projectiles flew through the air, embedding themselves in the hollows' exposed torsos. One after another, they fell, crumpling into lifeless heaps.

Naruto exhaled, wiping the sweat from his brow.

But then, from the smoke and flames below, another figure emerged—a third spear hollow. Its charred armor clung to its frame as it ascended the stairs, its glowing eyes locked onto Naruto.

Naruto grinned, his heart pounding with excitement. "Guess I gotta go big."

He gripped the Zweihander tightly, channeling chakra into his legs. With a powerful leap, he launched himself off the tower, his body hurtling downward like a meteor. Chakra flooded his muscles, cushioning his fall as he brought the Zweihander down in a devastating plunge attack.

The massive blade slammed into the hollow, splitting its body in two with a deafening crack. The force of the attack carved a deep gash into the stone staircase, sending shards of rock flying. Naruto landed in a crouch, the Zweihander embedded in the stone beneath him.

Standing, he pulled the blade free with a grunt, surveying his handiwork.

"I am so awesome."

Naruto stood at the crossroads of two paths—one winding upward, the other spiraling down into the shadowed depths. After a moment's hesitation, he chose the downward path, descending a narrow stone staircase. The air grew colder with each step, the silence pressing heavier against his ears.

Then he stopped, his breath catching in his throat.

At the base of the staircase stood a figure clad in jet-black armor, its massive frame almost blending into the darkness. The Black Knight. Its horned helmet turned slightly, as if sensing his presence, and its greatsword rested against its shoulder like a weapon that had claimed countless lives.

"Oh, shit," Naruto whispered, freezing in place. Memories of their last encounter came flooding back—desperation, dirty tactics, sheer luck. He had only survived back in the Asylum because he knew the layout, using every advantage he could muster to scrape out a victory.

This was different.

He started to step back, his mind screaming at him to retreat. But then he stopped. He clenched his fists, determination hardening his features. He was stronger now, more experienced. His chakra control had improved, and he understood the Zweihander better than ever.

"I want to fight him," Naruto said to himself, a small grin tugging at his lips. "No tricks. No running. Just me and him."

Naruto stepped forward boldly. The Black Knight turned fully to face him, its indifferent gaze locking onto his.

And then it disappeared.

In a flash, the Black Knight reappeared in front of Naruto, its massive greatsword already descending in a brutal overhead slash. Naruto barely had time to raise the Zweihander, the force of the attack sending a shockwave down his arms as he blocked it. The impact reverberated through his body, making his knees buckle.

The knight didn't relent. It pivoted, swinging its blade in a horizontal arc. Naruto ducked, the edge passing just above his head. He retaliated with a quick upward slash, but the Black Knight sidestepped with inhuman speed, its movements flawless and efficient.

The knight lunged forward, its blade a blur. Naruto parried, sparks flying as the Zweihander clashed against the greatsword. He countered with a thrust, but the knight deflected it effortlessly, stepping inside his guard.

Before Naruto could react, the greatsword plunged forward, impaling him through the chest.

Naruto gasped, his eyes widening as the blade tore through him. The pain was sharp and immediate, his body trembling as blood dripped down the edge of the weapon. He staggered, his grip on the Zweihander loosening.

He chuckled weakly, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. "Guess… this is what I get… for being cocky," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

The last thing he saw was the Black Knight pulling its blade free, its imposing form looming over him as the world faded to black.

[ YOU DIED ]

Naruto groaned as he found himself back in his room. The dull ache of failure lingered in his body, but it was nothing compared to the bruising his pride had taken. He flopped back on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

"I'm going to kill that Black Knight if it's the last thing I do. Dattebayo!" he growled, determination flaring as he sat up and opened his system interface. Surely he had enough souls to level up, right? He deserved a reward for at least trying to take the Black Knight head-on.

[ Souls: 0 ]

Naruto blinked. Then blinked again. His mouth opened to shout, but no words came out. He slowly closed it, a vein twitching on his temple.

"Wait… I didn't… use my Ring of Sacrifice, did I?" His voice was a whisper, horror creeping into his tone.

Naruto slapped his forehead as the realization sank in. Of course he didn't use the cheat. Why would he remember something that important? His face went pale as an even worse thought hit him like a kunai to the chest.

"My souls… they're still down there. With him."

Naruto froze, staring at the wall, imagining the possibility. What if the Black Knight took my souls? He shivered at the thought, picturing the Black Knight glowing ominously, leveling up, and becoming an even more terrifying foe.

"Oh, no. Oh no no no no no!"

Without a second thought, Naruto took out the Darksign and activated it. He had to get those souls back now.

Naruto materialized back at the bonfire, flames licking softly at the base of the rusted sword as he tightened his grip on the Zweihander. "No time to waste!" he muttered, immediately launching into a Shunshin no Jutsu. He bolted past the hollows littering the pathway, ignoring their groans and sluggish movements. Firebombs exploded harmlessly behind him as he sprinted at full speed, his focus locked on the staircase that led to the Black Knight.

In minutes, Naruto stood at the top of the staircase, peering down at the familiar, hulking figure. The Black Knight stood in its usual position, unmoving, its back turned to him. Nearby, Naruto spotted the faint green glow of his lost souls, the orb lying untouched on the ground. Relief washed over him, only to be replaced by panic as a sneaky spear hollow wandered toward the orb.

The Black Knight didn't even flinch as the hollow approached. But as soon as the spear hollow bent down to inspect the glowing souls, the Black Knight moved.

The swing was brutal, an overhead slash that pulverized the hollow in one clean motion. The greatsword left a faint trail of sparks as it returned to rest on the Black Knight's shoulder, the armored figure resuming its ominous stance as if nothing had happened.

Naruto swallowed hard.

From his vantage point, Naruto studied the Black Knight closely. Its movements were precise, deliberate, almost mechanical. The way it shifted its stance spoke of raw power, each motion economized for efficiency.

Its grip on the greatsword was firm but fluid, its gauntleted hands adjusting subtly to maintain balance. Unlike Naruto's own clumsy swings with the Zweihander, the Black Knight wielded its weapon as if it were an extension of its body. Every step it took was calculated, its footwork perfectly aligned with its center of gravity.

"I need to learn how to do that," Naruto muttered, his eyes narrowing as he watched the Black Knight's flawless movements.

He knew there was no way the knight would willingly teach him—hell, it would sooner cut him in half than offer a lesson. But that didn't matter. He didn't need words or instructions. The Black Knight's every move, every calculated step, was a lesson in itself.

If he could fight it, watch how it handled that massive sword with such deadly precision, he could learn. He could memorize its techniques, break down its movements, and figure out what made it so strong. He wouldn't just fight the Black Knight—he'd use it as a guide, a living example of what his swordsmanship needed to become.

But his focus was broken by the sound of rapid footsteps. He turned to see over a dozen hollows charging toward him from the shadows, their weapons raised and glowing eyes locked onto him.

"You've gotta be kidding me," Naruto muttered, shifting his stance.

Behind him, the Black Knight began to move, its heavy footsteps echoing against the stone walls.

"Hey, uh… any chance you wanna help me with these guys?"

Naruto got his answer—it felt a lot like being a nail introduced to a very angry hammer.

[ YOU DIED ]

[ Through sacrifice, no souls were lost. Ring of Sacrifice shattered. ]