Chapter no.2 Dark Wings Over Konoha

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Hiruzen sat at his desk, staring at the stack of reports before him, but his mind was far from the words on the page. Today had been... chaotic, to say the least. His pipe rested between his lips, and he took a long puff, letting the smoke fill his lungs. He needed this. After the events of the night, he needed something to calm his nerves, something to help him think clearly.

Naruto Uzumaki, the Jinchuriki of Konoha—his grandson in everything but blood—had stolen the Forbidden Scroll of Seals. Naruto had knocked him out with that ridiculous jutsu of his, an illusion of a naked woman. I've seen many things in my years as Hokage, but that... that was a new low. A small part of Hiruzen was thankful that no one knew about it. The last thing he needed was for the village to hear that the great "Professor" Sarutobi had been bested by such a... technique. Kami, the embarrassment would never end.

Another puff of smoke escaped his lips as he leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. Naruto had been tricked, of course. Tricked by a rogue shinobi—Mizuki. Well, that explained how Naruto had managed to bypass the security and get his hands on the scroll. Naruto may be talented in his own way, but even Hiruzen knew the boy wasn't capable of pulling off such a feat alone. But Mizuki... How did a low-level chunin, who spent his days as an assistant teacher, know enough about the security patterns of my library to pull this off?

It didn't sit right with him. Not one bit. If he hadn't gone to check on his secret stash of Icha Icha novels—a guilty pleasure I'll take to the grave—he might not have even known Naruto was in the building.

But no, that wasn't the worst of it, was it? His headache wasn't just from the breach or the embarrassing knock-out. It was the fact that Mizuki had revealed that secret to Naruto—the truth about the Kyuubi no Kitsune. Oh, Kami. Hiruzen had wanted to wait. He had planned to tell Naruto himself when he was ready, when he was old enough, mature enough to understand the weight of the truth. But now? That plan was ruined, shattered by Mizuki's selfishness.

Damn it, Mizuki.

He took another drag from his pipe, letting the smoke swirl around him. Iruka had come in just in time, thank the gods. Mizuki had filled Naruto's head with lies, twisted his perception, and nearly pushed him down a dark path. It wasn't much better than what I'd done, though, was it? Keeping the boy in the dark for all these years, letting him grow up hated, shunned, without knowing the reason why.

I should've told him sooner. I should've prepared him. But no, Hiruzen wanted to shield him, to protect him from the harsh truth for as long as he could. And now? Now it's all come crashing down around him.

Normally, he mused, this chaotic night would have ended with a heartfelt conversation. Once everything had calmed down, they could've sat down, and he could've helped Naruto make sense of it all. But that was not to be.

No. Instead, Hiruzen had to deal with the fact that Naruto... killed Mizuki.

The pipe nearly slipped from his fingers as he thought about it again. Naruto had killed him. A twelve-year-old boy, his boy, had taken a life. Kami, what have I done? The weight of it all pressed down on him like a boulder. Naruto wasn't ready for that. He wasn't prepared to face the consequences of what it means to kill.

How do I even begin to talk to him now?

Oh, Kami, please give me strength, Hiruzen thought as he rubbed his goatee, his fingers tracing the familiar lines of worry that seemed to have deepened over the years. This was bad. Really bad. It was one thing for an average genin to kill, but for Naruto—a Jinchuriki—to take a life? That was a different matter entirely.

A genin's first kill was supposed to happen under the careful watch of a team. You were meant to have the support of your teammates and the guidance of a jounin teacher. It was a delicate moment, one that needed to be handled with wisdom. And, if necessary, the teacher could evaluate if the student had the right mentality to continue as a shinobi—or if they were teetering on a dangerous path.

I won't risk another Orochimaru.

But Naruto? He had killed without any of that support. No teammates to steady him, no experienced hand to pull him back from the edge. His mental state after this… it was unknown, and that scared Hiruzen more than anything.

Why? Because Hiruzen knew what it meant to be a Jinchuriki. He had seen it firsthand with Kushina. The Kyuubi would whisper to her, try to claw its way out, to seize control. He knew Naruto's seal was stronger—Minato and Kushina had made sure of that—but the fact remained that the seal was connected to Naruto's chakra system. There was always a chance, no matter how small, that Naruto could suffer the same torment his mother had.

I can't let that happen to him, Hiruzen thought gravely.

There was a knock at the door, and Hiruzen sensed Naruto's presence on the other side. His chakra, normally as bright and warm as the sun, felt… different this time. There was something darker, something unfamiliar swirling within it. Hiruzen's heart sank.

I need to get Inoichi to do a psych evaluation immediately. The boy needs help. Kami knows he needs all the help he can get right now, Hiruzen thought with concern.

He took off his Hokage hat, placing it on the oak desk in front of him. The desk had been with him for decades, long before he even dreamed of becoming Hokage. It had been crafted by the Shodaime himself, using his Wood Style jutsu. The grain of the wood was still beautiful, even after all these years. Hiruzen's fingers traced along the surface, feeling every ridge, every groove, each mark telling a story.

There was one particularly large gash, a scar on the otherwise smooth surface. Hiruzen smiled sadly, remembering that it had been carved by his sensei, the Nidaime, in a moment of rare anger. That anger had terrified the shinobi of Kumo, and indirectly, it contributed to the start of the Second Shinobi War.

A war that took Tobirama's life.

Hiruzen sighed, his fingers lingering on the worn wood. The desk was cluttered now, littered with papers—more than he cared for, even though he had secretaries and a functioning administration. But despite all the duties, despite all the tasks that came with this title, Hiruzen wasn't wearing the hat of the Hokage today.

No. Naruto didn't need the presence of the Third Hokage right now. He needed Hiruzen. The grandfather. The old man who could sit with him, talk to him. The one who would listen, not judge.

Hiruzen looked at the door, steeling himself for the conversation ahead.

The moment Naruto walked in, Hiruzen's heart sank. His expression was blank—not the usual fiery, emotional mask Hiruzen had grown accustomed to. No, it was as if Naruto's mind wasn't even here, like he was focused on something far away, something only he could see in the empty air before him. It made Hiruzen uneasy, a cold knot tightening in his chest. This was Naruto, the boy who wore his emotions on his sleeve, who had never been able to hide how he felt. Hiruzen expected anger, confusion—something—but not this. Not this hollow, distant look.

Everyone processes trauma differently, Hiruzen reminded himself, trying to steady the storm in his heart. But this… this was unsettling.

"Naruto, greet the Hokage," Iruka said gently, his voice strained. Naruto didn't respond. He just kept staring, as if the air between them was more interesting than the reality in front of him. Hiruzen didn't miss the way Iruka's hands were shaking. The academy teacher was visibly on edge. Hiruzen could only imagine what had transpired between them tonight.

How did Naruto kill Mizuki that even a chunin is afraid of him? The thought struck Hiruzen hard, like a stone sinking in water.

"Iruka," Hiruzen said quietly, drawing the man's attention. Iruka snapped to attention, standing rigidly upright.

"Yes, Hokage-sama?"

"It has been a hard night for..." Hiruzen let his eyes drift to Naruto, lingering on the boy longer than he should have. Iruka caught his meaning immediately. Naruto had been the most affected tonight. More than anyone.

"For everyone," Hiruzen finished softly.

Iruka nodded, a hint of relief crossing his face as Hiruzen gave him his next order. "Your command, Hokage-sama?"

"Dismissed."

Iruka didn't hesitate, though Hiruzen could feel his reluctance to leave Naruto alone with him. Once the door closed, it was just Naruto and Hiruzen in the office. Well, not entirely alone, Hiruzen thought, knowing the ever-watchful eyes of the Anbu remained hidden in the shadows. But this was different. This moment needed to be personal.

"Naruto," Hiruzen said gently, trying to break through the fog clouding Naruto's mind. "Why don't you sit down?"

For a moment, there was nothing. And then, like a sudden jolt, Naruto snapped to attention, his eyes darting around the room, confused, almost startled. It was as if he had only just realized he was standing in the Hokage's office. Hiruzen watched him closely, noting the signs. He wasn't present. His mind was somewhere else. Detached. Was it shock? Disassociation?

"Is something wrong?" Hiruzen asked, keeping his voice as calm and steady as he could, though the knot in his stomach tightened.

"No, I'm fine," Naruto muttered, but it was clear he wasn't. His words were rushed, empty. "Can I leave now?"

He wasn't even trying to sit down. Why won't he sit down?

"Naruto, you aren't in trouble," Hiruzen said, trying to reassure him, trying to let him know that he was safe here, with him.

"Great, then can I leave?" Naruto's voice was quick, almost desperate, as he took a step back toward the door.

"Naruto, why are you in such a hurry to go?"

"I just..." Naruto paused, his face shifting with uncertainty, as if he didn't even know how to explain what he was feeling. He was struggling, and it hurt Hiruzen to see it.

"I'm busy with... some super important stuff," Naruto finally managed to say, but the way he said it—so hollow, so detached—made Hiruzen's chest tighten painfully. He was a child, trying to escape a conversation he didn't want to have. Trying to run from something he couldn't face. And worse yet, Naruto didn't seem angry at him for keeping secrets. He didn't even have questions about the Kyuubi, about the truth Mizuki had spilled. He wasn't seeking answers, wasn't demanding explanations.

Why wasn't Naruto mad? Why wasn't he furious with him?

Why doesn't he want to talk?

Hiruzen's mind raced as he watched Naruto—this wasn't normal. This wasn't how Naruto reacted to things. Where was the outburst? Where was the energy, the fire Hiruzen knew so well? The Naruto who was always defiant, always pushing, always demanding to be seen and heard? This... this was something else. Naruto was pulling away. Avoiding. Running.

The boy who normally fought for every scrap of attention was now desperately trying to slip away unnoticed.

Is he afraid of feeling? Is he afraid of what's inside him right now?

"Naruto..." Hiruzen began, unsure of what to say, unsure of how to pull Naruto back from wherever his mind had gone.

"I want to talk about the Kyuubi no Kitsune," Hiruzen said, his voice steady, watching Naruto carefully for any reaction. This was a test—a way to gauge how deep Naruto's fear and trauma ran. If Naruto still tried to run, then Hiruzen would personally drag Inoichi and a team of medical ninjas to him if he had to.

But, to Hiruzen's surprise, Naruto paused. He hesitated for only a moment, then sat down.

Hiruzen blinked, confused. Wasn't he just trying to run away from this?

Naruto's words echoed in his mind. I'm busy with… some super important stuff. What could possibly be more important than seeking answers after what he had been through? What could be more important than facing his fear? Hiruzen didn't like not knowing, not having even a speculation. And he really didn't like that.

"You saw tonight one of the darker aspects of shinobi life," Hiruzen began, his tone as careful as he could make it. "Traitors come and go, and they all must be dealt with eventually. Despite your horrendous mistake, you've done a great service to the village by putting a stop to him." He waited for something, anything—a reaction. Naruto didn't flinch, didn't respond except for a small gulp.

"Oh, yeah," Naruto said suddenly, as if the thought had just registered in his mind. "I killed Mizuki."

Hiruzen's heart skipped a beat. Naruto's tone was so casual, so detached, as if he had just realized he had killed an insect, not a man.

Hiruzen felt his breath catch in his throat, his lungs squeezed tight as he slowly let the air out. He hadn't expected this. In all his years as Hokage, in all the times he'd seen young shinobi grapple with their first kill, this was not the reaction he had prepared for. He had seen them cry, question their morality, break down in tears. Even those with darker tendencies, the ones they feared might turn, at least had some perverse reaction to their first taste of bloodshed.

But Naruto... Naruto's reaction was nothing. Just a shrug, like the life he took was insignificant. Like it didn't even matter.

Oh, Kami.

This wasn't just unsettling. This was terrifying. Naruto's reaction wasn't that of a child coming to grips with the horrors of their world—it was the mindset of a killer. A true killer, who could end life and move on as if it were nothing. And it chilled Hiruzen to his core.

Hiruzen should be happy, right? Isn't this what every village hopes for? A perfect shinobi? Someone who doesn't break, who doesn't falter, who can do the job and move on without emotional baggage? But no... Hiruzen couldn't feel happy. He couldn't feel relief.

Because he had seen this before. He had seen this exact calm, this exact detachment, in Orochimaru. And that was all Hiruzen needed to know that this reaction from Naruto was not something he could accept.

Not again.

Is this calm, this detachment, a response to trauma? Hiruzen's thoughts raced. He knew Naruto's loneliness better than anyone. He had always hoped, always believed, that Naruto would eventually overcome it, that he would find his place, his people.

Hiruzen considered forcing civilians to be Naruto's friends—that could have been disastrous—but now he was beginning to question his own judgment. Had I made a mistake by letting him face this alone for so long?

Because if this was a trauma response, then it was a deeply dangerous one. The thought twisted in Hiruzen's heart like a knife. He had spent so long thinking that Naruto would be strong enough to overcome the darkness that surrounded him, but now he wasn't so sure. What if the darkness has already started to take root?

The question loomed over Hiruzen like a storm cloud. Did Naruto have an innate desire to kill? Was this his nature now? Or was this just… enough?

Hiruzen wanted to believe it was enough. He wanted to believe this was the end of it. But deep down, he knew better. It's never enough. Not once someone has taken that step.

I need to consult Inoichi. There was no question about it anymore. Hiruzen needed help. Naruto needed help, whether he knew it or not. And Hiruzen wasn't going to let him fall through the cracks. Not this time.

Not like Orochimaru.

"Guess that's what demons do," Naruto muttered, and something in his tone made Hiruzen's heart lurch. There was a disgust there, but not for the word itself—it was for himself. Naruto spoke it like it was a truth he'd been forced to accept, and hearing it twisted something deep inside Hiruzen.

He couldn't place his finger on it, but Kami help him, he wanted to pray right then. Hiruzen wanted to pray that Naruto's indifference, this cold detachment, was just him playing a role—a child who had taken on the idea of being a "demon" too seriously, pretending it was true because others had told him it was. Please let that be the case, he thought. Let it be childish acting, and not the makings of a boy slipping into something darker.

"Naruto, you aren't a demon," Hiruzen said firmly, watching for his reaction. Naruto paused but didn't look at him.

"What did that traitor tell you?"

Naruto summarized the ordeal. His words were blunt, like he was reporting facts, not recounting a personal attack.

"You have to know the truth about your status," Hiruzen began carefully.

"My status?" Naruto's eyes focused now, his mind finally present.

"Mizuki told you that you were the Kyuubi," Hiruzen said, his voice low. "It's not true. You are the Kyuubi's jinchuriki."

"Jin… churiki?" Naruto repeated, stumbling over the word. It was foreign to him, strange.

"The Kyuubi wasn't killed," Hiruzen continued. "It was sealed inside of you as an infant."

"Me."

"Yes."

"But… but I…" He stammered, trying to piece it all together. "I'm not a demon, then?"

"Of course not, my boy!" Hiruzen's voice cracked with the force of his denial. He couldn't let Naruto believe that lie. "And allow no one to call you that!"

Hiruzen had hoped his words would comfort Naruto, reassure him. But instead, they opened a floodgate.

"Then… why? Why do they treat me like that?" Naruto's voice cracked, and Hiruzen could hear the weight of his loneliness, his isolation pressing down on him. The question hung in the air like a noose around Hiruzen's neck.

All the Third Hokage said was, "They fear you, Naruto. You are a reminder of the pain the Kyuubi caused."

There was a silence between them, one that cut deep. Hiruzen could see the questions swimming in Naruto's eyes, and then, finally, one slipped out.

"Why did they know, but I didn't?"

Hiruzen closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of his past decisions bearing down on him. "Seven years ago, I made a law forbidding anyone from speaking about your status," he said, his voice filled with regret. "I hoped it would allow you to live a normal life."

Naruto's reply hit Hiruzen like a kunai to the gut. "Look how good that turned out," Naruto said, his voice empty, bitter. The words made Hiruzen wince, and he couldn't argue. He had failed him.

"Hokage-sama." The title slipped from Naruto's lips like poison, and Hiruzen felt his blood run cold. Naruto had never called him that before.

Did I just lose him?

Hiruzen's mind blanked for a moment, panic surging in the pit of his stomach. He nodded, trying to keep his composure, even as the weight of that title—Hokage—pressed down on him like a stone.

"Why did you tell them and not me?"

Hiruzen tried to gather himself, to find some way to explain, to fix what he had broken. "I… I didn't. I was trying to protect you." His voice wavered, the weight of his years pressing harder than ever. Before he could explain further, he felt it—a shift in the air, something dark and heavy.

Naruto's bloodlust.

It was sudden, raw, like a wave of malice washing over the room. Bloodlust, Hiruzen knew, was an illusion cast by the remnants of Yin chakra from the dead. Each shinobi's bloodlust was unique, tied to their kills. The more kills a shinobi had, the stronger their bloodlust.

But Naruto's… it was like nothing Hiruzen had ever felt before. It was as if he was surrounded by corpses, as if they were rising around him, animated and malevolent, biting and clawing at his skin.

Hiruzen tapped his fingers lightly, releasing a burst of chakra that shattered the illusion, dispelling the bloodlust. He had to act quickly—the Anbu might have intervened, and that would have made things worse. He couldn't afford to let this spiral any further.

Naruto stood up suddenly, as if to leave, and Hiruzen's heart clenched. He couldn't let him go. Not like this. Not without saying something.

"I did protect you," Hiruzen said, his voice rougher than he intended. Naruto paused at the door but didn't turn. The silence between them was thick, suffocating.

"A Jinchuriki isn't something unique to Konoha," Hiruzen continued, his voice steadier now, desperate to make Naruto understand. "All five great villages have their own. In Sunagakure, their Jinchuriki is physically and mentally abused, tormented from the moment they can remember."

Hiruzen had made sure of that—made sure Naruto was protected, even when he didn't know it. He had ensured that no one could touch him in those early years, that no one could harm him physically. But emotional scars? The ones that came from isolation, from the whispered insults, the glares, the loneliness... He hadn't protected Naruto from that, and it gnawed at him now.

The silence between them grew heavier. Hiruzen couldn't even begin to guess what was going on in Naruto's mind. Was he angry? Hurt? Confused?

"Thanks for being a decent human," Naruto muttered, his tone cold, detached. It was a stab to Hiruzen's heart.

The Hokage winced. Naruto wasn't wrong. He'd done the bare minimum—kept him alive, made sure he wasn't openly abused. But was that enough?

No!

After the Kyuubi attack, the village had been in such a fragile state. Kumo had been threatening war, there was the Uchiha situation festering like a wound, and then there was Danzo… Always Danzo, always scheming.

His plate had been full—overflowing, really. But that didn't excuse it. Hiruzen still should have done better. Naruto deserved better.

I failed you, Kushina. I failed you, Minato.

Goddamn this stupid hat and its responsibilities. Hiruzen cursed silently, feeling the old frustrations bubbling beneath the surface. He was an old man, for the Sage's sake! He had led this village for over fifty years. He hadn't even had time to properly mourn his wife and children's deaths, and here he was, still leading, still trying to keep everything from crumbling. His bones ached with the weight of it all, but he couldn't stop.

And yet…

None of it mattered in this moment. None of my sacrifices, none of my excuses.

The sound of the doorknob turning snapped Hiruzen out of his thoughts. He looked up and saw Naruto, ready to leave. His heart lurched in his chest. No. Not like this. Not again.

In one last desperate attempt, Hiruzen spoke. "I didn't tell the village about you."

Naruto stopped, turning slowly to face him, his expression unreadable. His eyes asked the question his lips didn't: Who?

"After you were born, the Fourth Hokage—Minato—wanted you to be seen as a hero. The hero who kept the village safe."

Naruto snorted at that, a bitter, hollow sound.

Hiruzen couldn't blame him.

Minato, bless his soul, had always been too trusting of the village, too hopeful. He had believed in the people's ability to see past their grief and pain, to see the sacrifice that had been made. But they hadn't. They couldn't.

"The people couldn't accept it," Hiruzen continued, his voice softer now. "Seeing the level of pain and grief the village was in, they wouldn't honor Minato's dying request. They were too consumed by their own hurt, their own fears. So I kept it a secret. I waited, hoping you'd grow into it, that you'd be ready to bear that truth when the time came. But… by the time you were five, the secret was leaked. And I had to make my law to stop it from spreading any further."

Hiruzen watched Naruto, hoping—praying—that something, anything he said would reach him. He had made so many mistakes before, with Asuma, with Orochimaru, with Tsunade.

Every time, he'd let things go too far. Every time, he thought he could wait.

That things would fix themselves if he just gave them time.

But that was Hiruzen's greatest failing. Not stepping in sooner. Not stopping the damage before it was too late.

And now, standing here, watching Naruto's expression harden, the old man feared he was too late again.

Naruto raised his hand, and as Hiruzen watched, his skin lightened, turning ashen. That's when Hiruzen felt it—heat. The air in the room grew thick, heavy, like the very oxygen was burning away. Instinctively, he licked his lips, but they were already dry, parched by the sudden change. The temperature climbed quickly, almost unnaturally.

What in the world?

Hiruzen had mastered all five chakra natures, boasting what many would call the greatest understanding of chakra nature manipulation in the world. And yet, as that small fireball began to form in Naruto's palm, Hiruzen felt something he hadn't experienced in years—his own fire chakra being suppressed. It was as though the flames in his own body, the essence of fire he had long mastered, were being suffocated.

He wasn't the only one who noticed. The tension in the room was palpable. His Anbu guards sensed it too, the danger radiating from Naruto like a furnace about to explode. One of them moved instantly, appearing in front of Hiruzen as a shield, while the other dashed toward Naruto, preparing to restrain him.

But in a move that left Hiruzen speechless, Naruto reacted before the Anbu's blade could even come close. His movements were fluid, instinctive, as though he could see the Anbu coming—twisting on the balls of his feet, deflecting the attack with a grace and precision far beyond his years. And then, in the blink of an eye, he was about to fireball the Anbu point-blank.

No!

In that instant, Hiruzen unleashed his bloodlust.

Everything in the room froze. The air itself seemed to stop, and all eyes were drawn to him. Naruto, the Anbu—all of them—were caught in the illusion Hiruzen had cast, an illusion born from decades of war and death. Before their eyes was a mountain of corpses, each one a life Hiruzen had taken, each one a testament to the blood he had spilled. And there, atop that mountain, he sat like the Monkey King, gazing down upon them.

"Dismissed," Hiruzen said coldly, his voice leaving no room for argument.

The Anbu vanished, leaving only Hiruzen and Naruto. Hiruzen watched as the boy stood there, slightly shaken but holding himself together better than most would have. Even chunin couldn't have responded like that to an Anbu— even if the Anbu was holding back—but Naruto? He did.

And then Hiruzen's eyes caught something—an axe, shimmering in Naruto's hand. He blinked, and it disappeared. Space-time ninjutsu?

No, impossible. Naruto couldn't possibly know a space-time jutsu, could he? Hiruzen nearly laughed at the absurdity of the thought, but the question still gnawed at him. What just happened?

Before Hiruzen could ask, Naruto's voice cut through the silence. "Where's the guy that ruined my life?"

Hiruzen's heart clenched. He knew who Naruto meant—Danzo. Damn that man. Even in banishment, his shadow loomed over them all. Hiruzen spoke quickly, keeping his voice steady. "I've dealt with him."

Naruto wasn't satisfied with the answer—Hiruzen could see it in his eyes. Naruto turned to leave again, his hand already on the door. Desperate to understand where they stood, Hiruzen asked, "Naruto, I've never seen that fire jutsu before. Can you tell me how you learned it?"

It wasn't the fire jutsu that truly intrigued Hiruzen, though he needed to know about it. What he really wanted to know was how that axe had appeared and disappeared. The fire jutsu was a puzzle, yes, but the axe… That was something else entirely. He asked the question to see where he stood with Naruto now. Was he still his Jiji? Or had that bond been severed, lost in the whirlwind of secrets and pain?

The silence stretched, heavy and unbearable. Hiruzen watched Naruto's back, hoping for something—anything—that might reassure him that the boy he once knew was still there.

But Naruto didn't even turn around.

His response hit Hiruzen like a slap to the face. "Fuck off!"

Hiruzen stood there in stunned silence as the door slammed shut, the sound echoing through the office. Slowly, he closed his eyes, trying to collect himself. Naruto's words, his anger—it was like a dagger in Hiruzen's chest, twisting deeper with every second. I've lost him. Kami, I've lost him.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Hiruzen looked down at his old, weathered hands, at the smoking pipe still resting on his desk, and then at the portraits of the Hokage hanging on the wall. His gaze lingered on the fourth picture—the bright blue eyes, the spiky blond hair, the jaw-length bangs that belonged to Minato Namikaze.

You should be here, Hiruzen thought bitterly. You should be wearing this hat, not me.

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Dinner was quiet, just the way Inoichi Yamanaka liked it.

He sat across from his daughter, watching as she absentmindedly toyed with a piece of grilled fish on her plate, her eyes glued to one of those cheesy romance novels she was always reading. He tried to ignore the irritation building up as she skimmed through the pages, half-focused on her food. Today, Inoichi had made sure to include a few high-calorie dishes—things she wouldn't notice were meant to keep her from getting too skinny with that damn diet of hers. He knew she wouldn't appreciate the extra calories, but as her father, he had to make sure she stayed healthy.

"Ino," Inoichi said, breaking the silence. "Let's try something different today. Imagine you're walking through a dense forest. It's peaceful, the trees are tall, and the sky above is clear, only a few rays of sunlight filter through. As you walk deeper, you come across a house. It looks familiar, but you've never seen it before. You step inside. What do you see?"

He could see her pause, her mind snapping to attention as she considered the question. Inoichi always made sure to ask her one psychological question every night before bed. If she was going to be physically weak from all this dieting for her looks, then by Kami, her mind would be sharp. A ninja's greatest weapon was their mind, after all.

Ino Yamanaka was fair-skinned, a girl of average height, with light blue eyes and long, platinum blonde hair that framed the right side of her face.

Ino chewed thoughtfully on her food for a moment, humming softly before responding, "The house is cozy, old but well-kept. There's a warm fireplace, and the walls are lined with books. I can see myself spending hours there… and maybe Sasuke would be there too, reading."

"Sasuke again, huh?" Inoichi raised an eyebrow, watching her light up at the mention of his name.

"Of course! He'd be there, sitting by the fire, reading something smart. It's romantic." She snapped her fingers, eyes gleaming. This had become routine. Every question, every test, always seemed to lead back to the last survivor of the Uchiha clan.

Inoichi couldn't fault her for it—not yet anyway.

She was young. Let her have her fantasies.

As her father, though, it worried him. The crush was innocent enough, but Ino was now a genin. Life as a shinobi was anything but a romantic novel. Maybe that's why Inoichi let her indulge in these little daydreams for now—her innocence was fleeting, and he knew it would be stripped away in time. He told himself she would grow out of it. She was smart enough to figure it out. In a month, maybe two, she'd start to take this seriously.

But even as he told himself that, his gaze drifted toward the picture of her mother—his late wife, who had died during the Kyuubi attack.

Don't worry, my love, he thought, his heart heavy. Our daughter is safe. As long as I'm breathing, nothing will harm her.

Inoichi shifted his focus back to Ino. "Interesting answer," he said, choosing his next words carefully. "You know, how you interpret that house reveals a lot about how you see your inner self."

Ino blinked, lowering her book. "My inner self?"

He nodded. "The house represents your mind, your subconscious. What you see inside is a reflection of how you view yourself—your strengths, your comfort zones, and even your desires."

"So, you're saying my mind is a cozy cabin?"

Inoichi smiled. "More or less. It suggests you value comfort, warmth, and intellect—you see your mind as a refuge, a place where you feel safe and in control. But the fact that you brought Sasuke into the picture, that indicates something else."

Ino blushed slightly, setting her book down. "What does it mean?"

"It means that, subconsciously, you believe someone like Sasuke is important to completing your vision of happiness," Inoichi explained. "It's natural to want connection, Ino, but you should also be mindful that relying too much on others to create your inner peace can lead to disappointment."

She sat quietly for a moment, processing the information. Then, with a sly smile, she shrugged. "Well, Sasuke can be part of my cozy cabin if he wants. I'm not kicking him out."

Inoichi chuckled, shaking his head. "Just don't let your cabin rely on someone else's presence. Make sure it stands on its own, with or without him."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, Dad. I know."

Suddenly, Inoichi felt a surge of chakra enter the room. Instinctively, he tensed. An ANBU agent appeared before them, dressed in a white trench coat, the hood pulled low over a bear porcelain mask.

"The Hokage has requested a meeting, Inoichi-sama."

Inoichi nodded, his mind already switching from father to shinobi.

"Goodbye, Dad, and maybe bribe the Hokage to make sure I end up on Sasuke's team!" Ino chirped as he stood to leave.

He sighed, shaking his head. "I'll try, my lemon," Inoichi said, using the nickname she pretended to hate but secretly loved. She stuck her tongue out at him, a playful glint in her eyes.

That innocence, he thought, the kind I never had at her age.

It was hard to watch, knowing that one day soon, the world would take it from her.

"Remember the routine: all leftovers go in the fridge, and make sure Choji gets them tomorrow," Inoichi said as he gathered his belongings.

"Especially the seaweed chips!" she replied, wrinkling her nose at the thought.

"Those are for you," he countered, narrowing his eyes.

She grumbled but eventually nodded. "Fine… whatever."

Inoichi smiled softly at the exchange, savoring the moment. "Goodbye."

"Yeah, yeah, just go already!" Ino rolled her eyes, waving him off like he was an embarrassment.

Inoichi glanced at the ANBU agent, who had been waiting silently by the door, and with a final nod to his daughter, the two of them vanished with a body flicker.

The moment Inoichi stepped into the Hokage's office, he knew something was wrong. Hiruzen looked more stressed than Inoichi had ever seen him. It was as if the announcement of the Fourth Shinobi World War had dropped on his desk. A knot formed in Inoichi's stomach.

Please, anything but that.

The thought of war sent a chill down his spine. Not because he feared it for himself, but because he couldn't bear the thought of his daughter—of all the children in Konoha—experiencing the horrors that come with it. War strips away innocence, leaves scars on the soul that never heal. Ino was smart and strong in her own way, but no child should ever have to face the atrocities of war.

"Hokage-sama," Inoichi greeted, his voice steady, though his mind was racing through worst-case scenarios.

Hiruzen seemed to sense his growing unease. He offered Inoichi his smoking pipe, a rare gesture.

"Thank you, Hokage-sama, but I'd like to live long enough to see my daughter marry a bastard that doesn't deserve her," Inoichi said with a small smile, though the humor did little to settle the tension gnawing at him.

Hiruzen smiled in return, though there was no warmth behind it. "Don't worry, Inoichi. I need your mind."

My mind?

Inoichi narrowed his focus on those words. If Hiruzen needed strategic advice, he would have called Shikaku. Shikaku was the genius when it came to battle plans and strategy. But this wasn't about strategy—Hiruzen needed him for something else. Psychological help.

"What can I do for you?" he asked, his tone careful, measured. The knot in his stomach tightened as he waited for the Hokage to speak.

"It's Naruto."

The moment the name left Hiruzen's lips, Inoichi's mind slammed to a halt.

Naruto?

Uzumaki Naruto? The prankster of Konoha? The orphaned son of the Fourth Hokage? The current container for the Kyuubi no Yoko, the very being that had ravaged their village twelve years ago and killed his wife?

Inoichi felt his heart rate spike, but he kept his face neutral. He had never blamed the boy for what happened. He knew the difference between Naruto and the Kyuubi—they were separate. But the very idea of the Kyuubi was enough to make him take this seriously, dead seriously.

His mind raced through everything he knew about Naruto. From the rumors around the village to the comments Ino had made about him—how she would tease him, calling him a knucklehead, a loudmouth.

"Is this about his graduation?" Inoichi ventured. Perhaps Naruto was angry about failing, or maybe he'd had a violent outburst. It wasn't impossible that the Kyuubi's chakra had been released in a moment of anger or frustration. The boy had never shown the talent that either of his parents had, and Inoichi could imagine the frustration building up in him.

But Hiruzen's next words were like a hammer blow.

"No. Naruto learned about the Kyuubi."

Inoichi felt his mind go blank for a moment. His eyes widened slightly, and he motioned to the Hokage, silently asking if the boy had learned this from him.

Hiruzen shook his head.

This is bad. Very bad.

Inoichi took a deep breath, steadying himself. "Can you start from the beginning? What happened exactly?"

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

Naruto stood in front of the old apartment building that the Hokage had given him when he was a kid.

More of an apartment complex than a house, really. The building stood weathered and beaten, like it had been forgotten by time. The reddish-brown roof sloped down in layers, the tiles worn and cracked. Tangled wires snaked along the green trim of the beige walls, and silver chimneys jutted from the top like broken teeth. One section extended out awkwardly, like the bow of an old, rusted ship.

No one else lived there.

Just him.

And now he finally knew why.

In the span of one night… Naruto had gone from being the knuckleheaded ninja to some kind of emo. He should've laughed at or even denied that thought, but he couldn't muster the energy.

Too much had happened. Too much to process.

His head felt heavy, like it was filled with sand, dragging him down with every step.

How many more lies are there? Naruto wondered, his chest tight. How much more don't I know?

He kicked off his shoes the second he stepped inside, not caring where they landed. The coldness of the floor hit his feet, but he didn't care. He just slumped down, his back against the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him.

I'm so tired.

"I just wanna sleep, dattebayo..." Naruto's voice came out weak, not even recognizable as his own. He wanted nothing more than to just shut off his mind, to shut off everything, to stop the constant buzzing in his head. The ringing in his ears wouldn't stop. His thoughts wouldn't stop.

He pulled his headband off and tossed it aside, getting up slowly. His body moved on autopilot as he shuffled to the cupboard, grabbing a cup of ramen—the only thing he could stomach right now. He boiled some water, poured it in, and just stood there, staring at the cup as it sat on the table. Waiting.

Ignorance is bliss.

It was something his teachers always said whenever Naruto would question something. He used to hate hearing that, but now… now it felt true. Yesterday, life had been simple. He was just Naruto—the orphan, the outcast, the nobody who was gonna become the kickass Hokage.

That was it. That was all he had to worry about.

But now?

Now he didn't even know what he was.

Naruto slumped back into the chair, his hands coming up to rub his face. I don't know anymore. He wasn't a demon. He wasn't the Kyuubi. But that didn't make any of it better. It just made it worse, like the world had flipped upside down, and he was still falling, trying to figure out which way was up.

He grabbed the cup noodles, peeling off the lid. The steam hit his face, the smell familiar, comforting in a way. He mixed the packet in, stirring the noodles, watching them swirl in the broth like his thoughts.

Yesterday was simple.

Naruto took a bite, the hot noodles sliding down his throat. The flavor hit him, and he savored it, but even that felt dulled. The one thing that always tasted great, the one thing that always lifted his spirits, felt… flat. But he ate it anyway. He needed to feel something.

He sighed, putting the cup down. He stared at it for a long moment, then muttered, "Status."

A window flickered in front of him, black with gold lettering, and Naruto stared at it blankly.

[ Name: Naruto Uzumaki ]

[ Covenant: None ]

[ Level: 1 ]

[ Souls: 200 ]

Naruto narrowed his eyes at the screen in front of him. These numbers… they weren't the same as before. Something had changed.

One thing stood out immediately.

[ Souls: 200 ]

[ R Weapon 1: 96 ]

I get souls, he thought, since I absorbed all those hollows and Mizuki-teme, but what's the deal with the other thing?

His gaze zeroed in on the line that said R Weapon 1. What the hell did that mean? He scratched his head, feeling more confused by the second.

Naruto wondered if it had something to do with this. His hand clenched instinctively, and suddenly, the familiar weight of the hand axe appeared in his palm. He blinked, staring at the weapon that just materialized out of nowhere.

"Okay, that's still a thing," he muttered, tossing the axe to the floor with a clatter. He glanced back at the status screen, checking again. This time, he noticed something new—two changes, actually.

[ R Weapon 1: 96 → 20 ]

[ Equip Load: 10.0 / 51.0 → 8.0 / 51.0 ]

R Weapon 1… that's the axe, Naruto realized. It corresponded to whatever he was holding in his right hand. But what was this Weapon 2 thing?

He grabbed a kitchen knife, holding it awkwardly alongside the axe. It felt strange, like he was holding two things he wasn't meant to. The balance was off. Maybe he had to say something?

"Two weapons?" Naruto tried aloud, feeling a bit stupid. "Items? My right hand?" Nothing.

"Equipment," he finally said, and to his surprise, another window opened.

[ Equipment ]

[ Select Item to Equip ]

Naruto's eyes flicked down the list as he placed the axe on the table. Okay, how do I select this weapon? he wondered, his mind racing to figure it out.

Using his left hand, Naruto grabbed the kitchen knife, holding it awkwardly as he tried to make sense of the situation. His gaze shifted between the knife in his hand and the system window still floating in front of him. He studied the options on the screen, trying to see if there was something obvious he'd missed.

[ Left Hand Weapon Slots: ]

[ Slot 1: Dull Kitchen Knife ]

Naruto did the same motion as before, clenching his fist, and this time, the knife appeared in his hand. He blinked, and with another motion, the axe was back. He swapped between them a few more times, the weight shifting in each hand with each switch.

"Huh. That's... kinda cool," he muttered to himself. His curiosity wasn't satisfied yet, though. What about the rest of his gear? He clicked on the armor slot. There was an option to change into his pyromancer outfit or remove it altogether.

[ Armour Slots: ]

[ Gauntlets: Orange Jacket ]

Gone was the scrawny, underfed kid he was used to seeing. Instead, he was staring at a body that was more toned, more muscular. His arms had definition, and his chest and shoulders were broader. His body wasn't huge, but it looked like it had been trained, sculpted.

When did this happen?

Naruto changed back into his normal clothes quickly, the jacket reappearing as if it had never left. The strangeness of it all still nagged at him.

Did the Furtive Pygmy create this system? Does Oscar have this? he wondered, but honestly, he had no idea. He shrugged it off. As cool as this system window was, it didn't give him much in the way of answers. No instructions. Just... this.

Naruto needed to find a way back to Oscar. But how?

He sighed and picked up the cup ramen carton to throw it away. As he walked to the garbage can, he opened his hand, ready to toss it—except the cup was already gone.

"Huh?"

Naruto frowned, glancing at his hand. Then it clicked.

Oh, if I grab something long enough, it goes into my inventory.

"That's actually kinda handy."

[ Inventory ]

— [ Consumables ]

— [ Item: Darksign ]

— [ Description: The Darksign signifies an accursed Undead. Those branded with it are reborn after death, but will one day lose their mind and go Hollow. Death triggers the Darksign, which returns its bearer to the last bonfire rested at, but at the cost of all humanity and souls. ]

Naruto was grateful. He didn't know which god was looking out for him, but whoever it was, he owed them one for showing him how to get back. The thought of returning to Oscar's side gnawed at him, but he knew he couldn't just rush in. Oscar was injured, and that demon was still there.

Let's just get some stuff before going back.

The boy stopped, realizing he had no idea what "stuff" he was even talking about. What was he supposed to grab?

He knew he needed explosive tags, but what about Oscar's injuries?

He scratched his head, trying to think it through.

Iruka-sensei. He'll know what to do.

Iruka's apartment wasn't much—modest, cramped, and barely enough for him to live in. Naruto had overheard other teachers talk about how this was all Iruka could afford on a teacher's salary, but he'd never really paid attention. Iruka-sensei always seemed fine with it. But tonight, Naruto needed his help, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something was… off.

When Naruto reached the block where the building was, he didn't even think about using the front door.

Old habits die hard, he guessed.

His body moved automatically, like it had a mind of its own. He leaped up to the nearest rooftop, his feet landing silently on the tiles. The cool night air whipped past his face, but it didn't slow him down. One rooftop to the next, his movements were quick, fluid. It felt so natural—almost like running on flat ground. He'd been doing this for years, sneaking around the village, jumping from one roof to another. It was second nature, like breathing.

Naruto darted through the shadows, his body blending in with the darkness. The moon was hidden behind a thick layer of clouds, making the night feel even darker than usual. Perfect for sneaking in unnoticed.

His feet barely made a sound as he landed on the roof of Iruka-sensei's building. His place was on the second floor, but that wasn't an issue. Naruto had climbed into his window more times than he could count, usually for pranks or to raid his fridge.

Naruto crouched low, making sure he wouldn't be seen from the street below. His eyes scanned the side of the building, locking onto the familiar window of Iruka's apartment. The window was slightly open, just like he expected.

Sensei, you've gotta work on your home defense.

He made his move, leaping across the narrow gap between the roof and the windowsill. His hands gripped the edge, and he pulled himself up without a sound. Sliding the window open just enough to slip through, Naruto crawled inside, making sure not to disturb anything.

The second his feet touched the wooden floor, Naruto froze. Years of sneaking around Konoha had taught him to always listen first. He held his breath, his ears straining for any sound. Nothing. It was quiet—too quiet. He glanced around the room—Iruka's small, simple apartment was just as he remembered it.

The bed was tucked in perfectly, no wrinkles in sight, but Naruto's eyes immediately zeroed in on something out of place—an orange Icha Icha novel lying on top of the bed. He shook his head, trying not to think about what that meant.

Iruka-sensei, really?

"Hey, Iruka-sensei, it's me! I need help with something!" Naruto called out, closing the window behind him. He didn't hear a response, so he moved deeper into the apartment, his feet barely making a sound on the wooden floor.

The blonde walked into the living room and stopped dead in his tracks. The room was filled with old, empty sake bottles scattered across the floor. And slouched on the couch, his head lolling to the side, was Iruka-sensei. His clothes were rumpled, his usually neat ponytail undone, hair hanging messily around his face. His cheeks were flushed red, and he was muttering something incoherent under his breath.

"What the hell...?"

The academy teacher looked like a complete mess. His normally sharp, caring eyes were glazed over, his lips moving sluggishly as he tried to speak.

"N-Naruto? That you?" His voice was slurred, barely more than a drunken mumble.

"Sensei, you stink," Naruto said, scrunching up his face in disgust as he pinched his nose to block out the strong smell of alcohol.

Iruka groaned from the couch, slurring his words. "Oh, is this… my time to die?"

"I need your help, not your funeral plans," he said, doing his best to ignore how out of it Iruka was.

Iruka lazily waved his hand. "Sure… sure… I'm Iruka," he hiccupped, "teacher after all..."

"Okay, so let's say I'm going to fight this demon the size of my house," Naruto said, leaning in a bit. "What kind of stuff do you think I should get?"

Iruka chuckled drunkenly, swaying a little in his seat. "Hahah… you know… how long I've been waiting for this?"

"Really?" Naruto raised an eyebrow, unsure if Iruka was serious or just drunk. But part of him still believed in him. Even in this state, Iruka-sensei was still awesome—just a little… off.

"Yeah, just… get my diary," Iruka mumbled, his words barely making sense as he tried to stand. Only, instead of standing, he fell face-first onto the floor with a loud thud.

Naruto sweatdropped, shaking his head.

"Where's your diary?" the boy asked, poking to check if the man was dead or not.

"My… drawer…" Iruka slurred, still face down on the floor.

With a sigh, Naruto summoned a shadow clone to grab the diary while he bent down to help Iruka off the ground. As he lifted him, Iruka's arm slung around his shoulders, and Naruto felt a mix of emotions—mostly exhaustion. The blonde boy settled the brown-haired man into the chair, taking a deep breath.

Okay, Naruto, focus. Get what you need, then get back to Oscar.

"Iruka-sensei, why are you drinking so much?" Naruto asked, his voice quieter than usual. He couldn't help it; seeing Iruka like this, all messed up, slurring his words—it didn't sit right with him. It was like watching someone who was always strong crumble right in front of him.

Iruka groaned, wiping his face with the back of his hand. "Because… because my best friend died," he muttered, his words heavy with emotion. Naruto blinked, trying to process what he meant. Best friend? Mizuki?

"Even though Mizuki was a traitor, we were friends for years," Iruka continued, tears beginning to roll down his cheeks. "That kind of bond… it doesn't just go away, even after betrayal." His voice cracked, and suddenly he was crying.

Iruka-sensei was crying.

Naruto felt a tightness in his chest, but it wasn't because of guilt.

The truth was, Naruto didn't feel anything about Mizuki's death. Not really. Mizuki was trying to kill him, so Naruto killed him first. That's just how it is, right?

It wasn't like Mizuki was some innocent person or a saint. If Naruto hadn't killed him, Mizuki would've killed him. Why should Naruto feel bad about stopping someone who was ready to end his life? Naruto had faced hollows and killed them without hesitation. Mizuki wasn't any different.

But seeing Iruka cry like this—that hurt. Why?

Naruto pushed those thoughts away, not wanting to get lost in them. One of his clones came back with Iruka's diary, and Naruto let out a small sigh of relief. He handed it to Iruka, trying to focus on something else, something that didn't involve death or guilt.

"Here you go, sensei."

Iruka took the diary, flipping it open to the first page. There was a picture—a family photo. He just stared at it, even in his drunken state. There was something so… sad in the way he looked at them, like it hurt just to remember.

"These are my parents, Naruto," he said softly.

Naruto didn't know what to say. "Oh," was all that came out.

"They were killed when the Kyuubi was released 12 years ago," Iruka said, his voice changing—less slurred, more sober, as if the alcohol had loosened its grip on him for a moment.

There was a long pause.

The silence stretched between them as Iruka stared at the picture. A few tears dripped down from his face and splashed onto the page.

"I miss you, Mom. I miss you, Dad," Iruka whispered, his fingers brushing over the image as if he could reach into the past and touch them again.

Naruto knew that the Kyuubi had killed Iruka's family—Mizuki had told him that long ago. But now, watching Iruka cry, the weight of what that really meant finally sank in. This wasn't just some distant story or a fact he'd brushed off. This was real. The pain on Iruka's face was because of the monster inside him.

Without even thinking, he opened his mouth. "Did you ever… blame me for their deaths?"

There was a long, awful silence, and then Iruka said the words Naruto had been dreading. "I did."

Naruto closed his eyes, fighting to keep the tears from coming, as if shutting out the world would make the pain less real.

"But then I got to know you… and I realized I was wrong. You weren't the Kyuubi. You weren't the one I should blame. I'm sorry… for realizing that too late."

Naruto didn't think. He didn't stop to process anything. He just hugged Iruka. He threw his arms around him, tears streaming down his face, soaking into Iruka's shirt. Naruto hugged him as tightly as he could, like if he let go, everything would fall apart.

"Thank you," Naruto managed to choke out between sobs, his voice cracking.

Naruto didn't care that Iruka was drunk. He didn't care that Mizuki was dead or that the village still saw him as the Kyuubi. Right now, the only thing that mattered was that Iruka-sensei—his Iruka-sensei—was still there, still on his side. And for the first time that night, Naruto didn't feel so alone.

Naruto quickly snapped back to the task at hand, wiping his face and trying to focus. There was no time to waste.

"Okay, Iruka-sensei, how do I beat a demon?"

Iruka looked at Naruto through bleary, half-lidded eyes, slurring his words. "Why would I know that?"

"What about your diary?"

"Oh… that…" Iruka muttered, rubbing his face. "When I was younger, I imagined how I'd magically save Konoha from the Kyuubi."

Naruto blinked. Really, sensei?

Even drunk, Iruka looked embarrassed by his own younger self. It was kind of funny in a way, but Naruto wasn't in the mood for jokes. He flipped through a few pages of the diary, scanning over Iruka's childhood fantasies of heroic battles.

This isn't what I need right now.

Naruto threw the book aside, muttering, "Oscar's strategies are better anyway."

Let's ask him this, he thought, pacing back and forth. "What do I do if I face an enemy that isn't affected by a swarm of clones coming at them all at once?"

"What?"

"Come on, sensei, I don't have time for this!"

"Is this the same demon?" Iruka asked, glancing at the bottles around him like he was trying to figure out if this conversation was even real.

"Yes!" he practically yelled. "Iruka-sensei!"

"Okay, okay, not so loud," he groaned, rubbing his temples as if my voice was pounding in his head. He closed his eyes for a second, thinking, and I could tell he was trying to pull himself together, at least enough to give me a straight answer.

Finally, he spoke, his tone more serious. "Alright… if your enemy isn't reacting to clones, you're probably coming at them too predictably. Don't just rush in all at once, especially if they can read your movements. Mix things up—send the clones in waves, scatter them, create a distraction before the real attack. And never rely on just clones. You need to use your environment, your jutsu, your speed, everything you've got to make them vulnerable."

His clones scribbled everything down as Iruka finished talking. Naruto was already digesting the advice, thinking of how he could put it into action.

"Okay, Iruka-sensei, if someone got smacked by something big, like the size of this room, how would you treat them?"

Iruka slurred, barely paying attention. "They'd be dead…"

"No!" Naruto shouted, his voice loud and frantic, startling Iruka. "He is not dead. Just—tell me what to do!"

Iruka blinked, looking at Naruto like he was crazy before rubbing his temples. "Okay, okay… let me think." He groaned, mumbling to himself, still not fully sober. "Bring a medical ninja?"

Naruto clenched his fists. "There's none. I'm all he's got."

That seemed to sober Iruka up a little. He frowned, his face growing serious. "What are the injuries?"

"I don't know exactly," Naruto admitted, feeling his stomach drop.

"Hit by something big?"

"Please, Iruka-sensei, there has to be a way!" Naruto's voice was desperate, like he was grasping for anything, for some piece of advice that could save Oscar.

I can't lose him. Not after everything.

Iruka scratched his head, his words starting to make more sense.

"Maybe try bringing some platelet-boost pills to stop the bleeding, endorphin pills for the pain… Wrap some clean cloth around the wounds to keep them stable. Feed them nutritional pills to keep them alive until medical help comes."

Naruto's clones scribbled down every word like their lives depended on it. Naruto nodded.

This was something. At least now he had a plan.

"That weird flask… it does the job of a medical ninja, right?" Naruto asked, thinking of the Estus flask Oscar had used to heal him earlier. His clones nodded.

Good. That'll help, at least.

"Great. Now, sensei, where can I buy these pills? And where can I get explosive and flashbang bombs?"

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

Naruto made it to Shinobi's Edge in no time. It was the only shop still open this late, and the dim light spilling from the windows told him they were about to close. The place was old, with wooden beams that creaked whenever someone moved. The walls were lined with all kinds of ninja tools—everything from kunai to specialized gear only jounin typically used. It smelled like metal and oil, mixed with the scent of old paper from the scrolls tucked behind the counter.

The shop was mostly empty at this hour. Perfect.

"Welc—" the store clerk started to say, but the second Naruto walked in, he stopped mid-sentence. Naruto didn't care. He didn't have time for the clerk's fake smile or whatever he had planned to say next. He went straight for the back, grabbing everything he needed.

He picked up some fuma shurikens.

Yeah, this is going right into the demon's butt, Naruto thought with a smirk.

Naruto grabbed two stacks of ninja wire, a box of flash bombs, and some high-grade explosive tags.

All of this is going to cost a fortune, he thought, his heart sinking for a second. But he had three years' worth of savings. He threw the stacks of ryo onto the counter, not even bothering to count it.

"Here," Naruto said, placing everything on top of the counter.

The store clerk eyed him, his face tight.

"I'm sorry, but you can't buy this."

Naruto didn't have time for this crap. He grabbed all the gear, stuffing it into a storage scroll before the clerk could say anything else.

"Hey! You can't just take that!" the clerk shouted, his voice cracking.

Naruto kept moving, ignoring him. I paid for everything. I'm not going to stand here and argue.

"Stop! That's stealing!" the clerk yelled after him.

Naruto turned and glared, his eyes narrowing. "Shut up, I paid for it! Go count the money!" His voice came out harsher than he intended, and the guy flinched, taking a step back.

Naruto was about to leave, his chakra pooling in his legs, ready to leap out of there and get back to Oscar, when he heard the guy mutter under his breath.

"Of course, the demon brat wants that stuff for nothing," the clerk whispered, thinking Naruto wouldn't hear. "Can't believe the Hokage let a monster like that be a ninja. I'm gonna lose my job 'cause of this asshole who couldn't just die."

Naruto froze, the words hitting him harder than he expected. His hand clenched into a fist, and before he knew it, a fireball began forming in his palm.

One swing, and I could burn this whole place to the ground.

He could make the clerk regret every word, make him fear Naruto the way he always had. The heat in Naruto's hand built up, ready to be unleashed.

But then, Naruto saw the clerk's face—the fear in his eyes. Not just fear, though. That underlying smugness. Like he was right all along. Like this was proof that Naruto was the monster the villagers always thought he was.

He wants this, Naruto realized, his chest tightening. The guy wanted him to lash out, to prove him right. To give him an excuse to say, See? I told you so.

Naruto took a breath, forcing the fireball to fizzle out in his hand.

Ignore him. We have to save Oscar. That's what matters, he told himself over and over, trying to drown out the anger bubbling inside him.

But Naruto wasn't just going to walk away and let the clerk think he'd won.

"Hey, guys," Naruto said, summoning a dozen clones. "Gather all the garbage around here and fill this bastard's store with it."

"Dattebayo!" they all shouted in unison.

The look of horror on the store clerk's face as Naruto's clones tore through the trash bins, piling garbage onto every available surface, was priceless. Naruto smirked, feeling a small, petty sense of satisfaction as he ran out of the store. He etched that expression into his memory—a last laugh before heading back to the other world.

If I have to deal with demons, I'm sure as hell not letting jerks like him get off easy.

Naruto checked everything again, making sure it was all set. His clones had already brought the pills from another store—thankfully, a place that didn't treat him like garbage. He felt a small relief in that, but his mind was racing.

He double-checked the storage seal scroll. The Fuma Shuriken, ninja wire, flash bombs, and pills were all in place. Everything he needed was packed and ready in his inventory.

[ Do you want to use item "Darksign"? ]

[ Yes or No ]

As soon as he thought yes, Naruto's knees buckled. One knee hit the floor as his body surged with a strange energy. Naruto raised his hands in front of him, and there it was—the ring of fire, the Darksign. It glowed bright, the light piercing through his eyes, filling his vision with nothing but a blinding white.

He gritted his teeth. The heat from the Darksign seared into him, but Naruto welcomed it.

"Just wait, sensei," Naruto whispered, barely able to hear his own voice over the rushing sound of power coursing through him. "I'm coming to save you, dattebayo."

Suddenly, the boy's body vanished, swallowed by the blinding magic light, leaving nothing but an empty apartment in his wake.

But not entirely unobserved.

High above, hidden in the shadows outside, a dragonfly watched. Its keen eyes followed the events from afar. But this wasn't just any ordinary insect—it was a creation. The dragonfly's body gleamed unnaturally as it flapped its wings, its body made entirely of ink. As it moved through the sky, it left no sound, no trace, only a dark blur against the moonlit night.

Its destination was a shadowy apartment a few blocks away. The room it flew into was sparse, completely devoid of any furniture or decoration. The only thing that filled the empty space was a giant scroll, unrolled and spread across the entire floor. The ink insect splashed into the scroll upon contact, its form dissolving into the paper.

Overseeing the process was a small, cloaked figure—an ANBU agent dressed in a black cloak with a blank, featureless mask. But this was no ordinary ANBU. This was a Root ANBU Black Ops agent, trained in the shadows, an extension of Danzo's will for Konoha's "betterment."

The ANBU finished a series of hand signs, his fingers weaving through the air with practiced ease.

"Ninja Art—Ink Imagery Transfer," he muttered under his breath, his tone cold and mechanical. The ink from the dragonfly began to shift, swirling into specific shapes and patterns. Everything the ink creature had seen—the entire surveillance—was being transferred into a coded message on the scroll, written in a language only those within Root could decipher. Ever since Naruto's confrontation with the Third Hokage, Root had been keeping a close watch on him. This particular Root agent had been tasked with long-range surveillance, using the ink insect as his eyes. And now, with Naruto disappearing into that strange light, the ANBU knew something was off. Something significant.

The Hokage had opted not to send his own ANBU to follow Naruto—perhaps out of fear of pushing the boy further into distrust. It was a calculated move, but one that played into Root's hands. Root's surveillance had gone unnoticed, and the Hokage's restraint allowed them to observe Naruto undisturbed.

As the Root ANBU finished reading the coded message, his eyes, hidden behind the mask, narrowed. The implications of what the insect had just witnessed were clear.

I must inform Danzo-sama.

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

Far away from Konoha, hidden deep within a rugged mountain range, lay a small, secluded temple. From the outside, it looked like any ordinary temple, ancient stone pillars standing stoic against the weathered landscape. But this place had a dark secret—it was no temple of worship. It was a glorified prison known as Fire Zen Temple, a remote location where banished shinobi who were too dangerous to be left free, yet too valuable to be discarded, were sent to live out their days in isolation.

The air around the temple was still, as if even the wind feared to intrude upon the grounds. In the midst of this eerie calm, a small pumpkin garden grew, its vines crawling across the soil. The man tending to the garden seemed out of place, his frail, aging body moving slowly as he dug into the earth with his bare hands. His shaggy black hair hung limply, and his right eye was covered by a bandage. An X-shaped scar marred his chin, a reminder of his youth. He wore a simple white shirt, a black or dark grey robe draped over it, covering him from his feet to just over his right shoulder.

This man was Shimura Danzo—the War Hawk of Konoha, the boogeyman of the shinobi world. And he was calmly planting pumpkin seeds, as if he were just another old man living out his final days in peace.

But behind Danzo stood two silent ANBU guards, their presence a reminder of the reality of his captivity. Or at least, that was the illusion. To the outside world—especially to Hiruzen Sarutobi—Danzo had been stripped of his power and locked away in this temple, guarded around the clock. But the truth was far more dangerous. Danzo had long since taken control of the Fire Zen Temple, turning it into his hidden base of operations, without anyone outside its walls being the wiser.

As Danzo pressed the seeds into the earth, another ANBU appeared. Unlike the others, this one wore a black cloak and bowed respectfully before him. Danzo didn't look up, his single visible eye focused on the garden before him.

"Speak," he commanded, his voice cold, devoid of any emotion. He buried the last seed with a deliberate motion, his fingers pressing the soil over it gently, as if the task itself held some deep significance.

It didn't.

"Danzo-sama, we have received an important report from operatives in Konoha."

Danzo's single eye flickered with the faintest glimmer of interest, an emotion so subtle that it was barely detectable. Slowly, he straightened, rising from his crouch, his gaze shifting from the garden to the Root agent standing before him.

Without a word, Danzo extended his hand, and the report was placed into his grasp. The parchment felt thin, ordinary—but the contents were anything but. His eye scanned the report, moving swiftly over the details: Mizuki's betrayal of Konoha, and more importantly, the report of the Jinchuriki, Naruto Uzumaki, using previously unknown ninjutsu.

The war hawk's brow furrowed ever so slightly as he reached a specific section. Confirmed space-time ninjutsu.

His eye lingered on the words, absorbing their significance. He continued reading, taking in the description of the verbal altercation between Hiruzen and Naruto, the tension that had built between the boy and the Third Hokage.

Danzo remained silent, his expression unreadable. None of the Root ANBU could ever guess what was going on behind that cold, calculating eye.

"Your command, Danzo-sama?"

"Continue your observations of the weapon," Danzo said, his voice like ice, betraying nothing of the plans forming in his mind. "And destroy any evidence of Mizuki's connection to outside forces."

The ANBU operative bowed and swiftly vanished into the shadows, leaving Danzo alone once more.

The original mission had been simple enough in its design: Root operatives would supply Mizuki with the necessary information to obtain the Forbidden Scroll of Seals. In exchange, Mizuki would involve Naruto Uzumaki, faking the boy's death and leaving his body to be retrieved by Root. Naruto, brainwashed and reshaped, would become the perfect weapon for Konoha—an asset Danzo could wield in secret.

But the plan had failed. Mizuki was killed, and Naruto had not been drawn into Root's grasp. Instead, something far more interesting had occurred.

Danzo's gaze flicked back to the report, his mind racing.

Unknown ninjutsus?

Perhaps this was a blessing in disguise. Danzo's lips curled into the faintest hint of a smile.

"Your new abilities will greatly serve Konoha, Jinchuriki."

The world was shifting, and with it, the fate of Konoha. But one thing remained clear to Danzo—Naruto Uzumaki was now more valuable than ever, and he would not rest until the boy was under his control.