Shadows of Freedom

by Demon_knight939

Summary:

The aftermath of the Sasuke Retrieval Mission was far darker than anyone could have anticipated. Though Naruto succeeded in bringing Sasuke back, he was met only with fear and scorn from the very village he sought to protect. And confronted with a reality that was far too disturbing to be at peace with, Naruto flees Konoha. Dark story. Different from canon. Naruto x Mirajane Strauss

Chapter 1

Hi.

Nice to meet you all.

I'm Banana Peak, a new fanfiction writer with boundless lust for writing.

Pretty confusing I know but to make a long story short, I'm using demon knight's account to post, he and I are good friends.

I hope you all enjoy the stories I'll be writing because I don't plan on putting anything less than my best for them.

That said, I am new, so do have mercy on the criticism.

Now before you all read, just a small heads up, this chapter along with the next one will unfortunately not be pleasant to Naruto, so do expect to be furious as you read it.

And if it's any comfort, Naruto will get his justice, it just won't be anytime soon sadly.

Start:

The council chamber felt colder than the hospital wing they'd just left. The air itself seemed to carry weight, heavy with unspoken accusations and the lingering scent of antiseptic from their bandages.

Shikamaru's fingers absently traced the edge of his flak jacket, where a deep gash had nearly ended his mission leadership hours earlier. Blood had dried there, dark and accusing against the green fabric.

Around the long table, his teammates sat with varying degrees of discomfort – both physical and emotional. The scrape of chairs against stone floors had echoed like accusations in the chamber's stillness.

Only Naruto seemed to fidget openly, his bandaged hands clenching and unclenching beneath the table, raw skin catching on the rough fabric with each movement.

Shadows stretched long and dark across the polished wood, cast by the storm clouds gathering outside. Across from them, Shimura Danzō's single visible eye studied each shinobi in turn, dissecting their wounds, their postures, their fear.

The village elders, Homura and Koharu, flanked him like stone sentinels, their weathered faces carved with disapproval. In the corner, Lady Tsunade stood with her arms crossed, her presence more tolerated than welcomed. Her honey-colored eyes burned with barely contained fury at the theater of it all.

The silence stretched, taut as a wire. Each breath, each shift of fabric, seemed amplified in the chamber's oppressive quiet. The young shinobi could feel the weight of judgment pressing down on them – not just for their mission's outcome, but for something deeper, something they couldn't quite grasp. Even Naruto, usually so quick to break tension with a loud declaration or nervous laugh, sat unnaturally still beneath Danzō's unwavering gaze.

Only Shikamaru's eyes darted between the elders, his tactical mind picking up subtle currents in the adults' carefully chosen words, while Neji's diplomatic mask couldn't quite hide the wariness in his pale eyes. Something more than a mission debriefing was unfolding here, though most of them were too young, too focused on their immediate pain and worry, to understand exactly what.

"Begin with the moment of contact," Danzō commanded, his voice carrying the weight of decades of authority. Each word fell like stones into still water, rippling with hidden meanings. "When you first encountered Sasuke Uchiha."

Shikamaru cleared his throat, the sound harsh in the heavy air. "We split into teams to handle the Sound Four. Naruto and I - "

"The moment of direct contact," Danzō interrupted, his eye fixed on Naruto with the intensity of a predator. "When the Jinchūriki engaged the target."

The word hung in the air like poison. Naruto's shoulders tensed, the bandages around his hands suddenly feeling too tight, too confining. Like shackles. Like warnings.

"Naruto isn't just some - " Kiba started to protest, but a sharp look from Shikamaru silenced him. They couldn't afford outbursts, not here, not now. Not when every word could become a weapon to be used against them.

"Perhaps," Koharu suggested, her weathered hands folded on the table like pale spiders, "we should hear from young Hyūga. Your Byakugan provided the clearest view of the... incident." The pause before the last word carried volumes of meaning, of carefully measured condemnation.

Neji sat straighter, though the movement clearly caused him pain. The bandages around his torso were visible beneath his torn shirt, chakra burns still angry and red at the edges, a testament to the power they'd witnessed.

"Yes, Elder."

His voice was steady, diplomatic – every inch the Hyūga heir. But beneath the table, his fingers pressed against his wounds, using the sharp sting to maintain his composure.

Thunder rumbled outside, as if nature itself was holding its breath for what would come next.

FOUR HOURS AGO…

Neji's Byakugan strained against the distance, tracking the explosive clash of chakra at the Valley of the End.

"Something's wrong," he muttered, supporting himself against a tree trunk. "Naruto's chakra... it's changing."

Through the rain-soaked air, they could see it – a cloak of red chakra bubbling around Naruto's form, one tail, then two, then three whipping against the storm winds. Across the valley, Sasuke's curse mark had spread like spilled ink across his skin.

"We have to help him!" Kiba shouted, but Akamaru whimpered and backed away from the oppressive chakra.

"No," Shikamaru ordered, his tactical mind racing. "That level of power... we'd only get in the way."

"But look at him!" Kiba pointed through the rain. "That's not even Naruto anymore! That's - "

"It's still him." Chōji's voice was barely a whisper, his body still recovering from the soldier pills. "He's still fighting to bring Sasuke back. Not to hurt him. To save him."

"And yet," Danzō's voice cut through the memory like a blade, "your own report indicates that the Jinchūriki's chakra caused severe damage to your chakra network, Hyūga. Damage that might have ended your career as a shinobi."

Neji's pale eyes met Danzō's single one without flinching. "The damage was a result of my choice to maintain the Byakugan during the incident. I deemed monitoring the situation more important than my personal safety."

"A choice you shouldn't have had to make," Homura interjected. "Against a fellow Konoha shinobi."

"With respect," Shikamaru leaned forward, his tactical mind engaging in this new kind of battle, "we were already injured from our fights with the Sound Four. Any chakra exposure at that point would have - "

"Is that why the Akimichi heir is still in intensive care?" Koharu's question silenced the room. "From the Sound ninja?"

Naruto's chair scraped against the floor as he stood, unable to contain himself any longer. "Chōji got hurt fighting to bring Sasuke back! They all did! I couldn't let their sacrifices be for nothing!"

His voice cracked on the last word as unbidden memories flooded his mind – Sakura's tears, her desperate plea, his promise to bring Sasuke back. But now other memories surfaced: red chakra burning through his skin, his consciousness drowning in hatred, his clawed hand wrapped around Sasuke's throat.

For a moment, he could still feel it – how close he'd come to... to...

His stomach lurched. He'd promised to bring Sasuke back, but he'd almost... The thought made him physically ill.

I almost killed him. I almost broke my promise to Sakura-chan in the worst possible way.

"Naruto," Tsunade's warning tone carried years of command, but there was an undertone of concern. She must have seen the color drain from his face.

"No!" Naruto's fists hit the table, using the sharp pain to ground himself, to push back against the horrifying memories. "You're trying to make it sound like I - like I hurt them on purpose!" His voice was desperate now, pleading. "Sasuke was going to leave! He was going to Orochimaru! I had to - "

I had to stop him, he wanted to say. But the words died in his throat as he remembered the feeling of his friend's pulse under his fingers, growing weaker. How close had he come to doing exactly what they were accusing him of? How thin was the line between saving someone and destroying them?

"Had to what?" Danzō rose slowly, his presence somehow filling the room. "Had to release a power you can't control? Had to risk the lives of your comrades? Had to destroy sacred landmarks that have stood since the founding of our village?"

THREE HOURS AGO…

The forest burned. Not with normal fire, but with chakra so caustic it melted stone. Through the haze, they watched as Naruto, consumed by the Nine-Tails' power, slammed Sasuke's transformed body into the cliff face. The Uchiha's black wings crumbled, his curse mark receding as consciousness left him.

But Naruto didn't stop.

"Naruto!" Chōji's voice was weak from his own battle, but it carried. "It's over! You did it!"

The creature that was Naruto turned, three tails lashing, eyes burning red. For a moment, none of them breathed.

"Naruto-kun," Neji called out, forcing himself to stand despite the searing pain in his chakra network. "Remember your nindo. Remember who you are."

Shikamaru's shadow stretched out, not to bind but to connect, a thin line of darkness cutting through the red chakra haze. "We're here. We're all here. It's finished."

Slowly, agonizingly, the chakra began to recede, leaving their friend collapsed in the rain beside his unconscious target.

"The retrieval team's injuries," Danzō continued, laying out medical reports with methodical precision, "were not primarily from their encounters with the Sound ninja. They were from the chakra exposure. From their own teammate."

"That's not true!" Naruto's voice cracked. "I would never - "

"Silence."

Danzō didn't raise his voice, but the command froze Naruto in place.

"Your actions speak louder than your protestations. The fact remains that a genin-level shinobi was sent on an A-rank retrieval mission, lost control of a tailed beast, and endangered not only his team but the entire region."

"A mission that succeeded," Tsunade stepped forward, chakra flaring just enough to remind everyone present of her own power. "Sasuke Uchiha is back in Konoha, the Sound Four are eliminated, and all our shinobi survived."

"Survived," Homura echoed, adjusting his glasses. "Barely. The Hyūga heir with chakra burns across his entire chakra network. The Akimichi boy's cells nearly destroyed. And these are just the physical wounds. The psychological impact of witnessing a teammate transform into - "

"Into what?" Shikamaru's quiet question carried unexpected weight. "Into someone willing to sacrifice everything to save a friend? Into a shinobi who completed his mission despite impossible odds?" He turned to face the elders fully. "If we're discussing psychological impacts, perhaps we should consider what message we're sending by treating success as failure."

"Mind your tone, young Nara," Koharu warned. "This isn't your father's strategy room."

"The Sand reinforcements," Danzō redirected smoothly, "report similarly disturbing observations. Before returning to Sunagakure, they noted the level of destruction was 'unprecedented for a retrieval mission.' Even their own Jinchūriki expressed concern."

Naruto's hands trembled beneath the table. The bandages couldn't hide the lingering red chakra burns, marks of his desperate gambit to save his friend. To fulfill his promise. But as he looked around at his injured teammates, at the disapproving stares of the elders, at Tsunade's carefully controlled anger, he began to understand.

"I..." his voice was barely a whisper, "I just wanted to bring him home."

"And that," Danzō rose slowly, his single eye somehow heavier than all their wounds combined, "is precisely the problem. Your personal desires, your emotional attachments, they make you volatile. Unpredictable."

He turned to face the window, where storm clouds gathered over Konoha. "This council will need to seriously reconsider the wisdom of allowing a weapon such as yourself such... freedom of action."

"He's not a weapon," Tsunade's voice cut through the chamber like a thunder crack. "He's a Konoha shinobi. One who just completed an A-rank mission against overwhelming odds."

"And what of the next mission, Lady Hokage?" Danzō turned back, his eye gleaming. "What happens when his emotions overwhelm him again? When another friend is in danger? When his control slips?" He gestured to the injured genin. "How many more of our children are you willing to risk?"

Naruto felt the words hit him like physical blows, each question driving the air from his lungs. His eyes drifted to his teammates – to Neji's chakra burns, visible beneath his torn shirt; to the way Shikamaru carefully kept his weight off his injured leg; to the empty chair where Chōji should have been sitting.

Maybe... maybe he's right.

The thought crept in like poison, past all his usual defenses, past his normal determination and bravado. He'd rushed into this mission, desperate to keep his promise to Sakura, determined to save his friend. But looking at his injured comrades now, remembering the red haze of Kurama's chakra, the destruction at the Valley of the End...

I made everything worse. His hands trembled beneath the table. I should have stayed behind. I should have let someone else... someone who could control themselves... someone who wouldn't put everyone in danger...

The memory of Sakura's tears mixed with images of his rampaging chakra, of his friends lying injured in the rain, of Sasuke's unconscious form. He'd wanted to protect everyone, to save everyone, but instead...

How many more? Danzo's words echoed in his mind. How many more friends would get hurt because I can't control this thing inside me?

The silence that followed Danzo's questions was deafening, but the doubts screaming in Naruto's head were even louder.

"That's enough."

Kakashi's voice cut through the tension as he emerged from the shadows of the chamber's corner. He'd been so still, so quiet, that some had forgotten he was there – exactly as he'd intended. "You're twisting these events to serve your own narrative."

Danzō turned slowly, his visible eye meeting Kakashi's revealed one. "Ah, Kakashi. I was wondering when you'd speak up. Tell me, how is your other student doing in the hospital wing?"

The emphasis on 'other' carried weight. Kakashi's visible eye narrowed slightly.

"Since you've chosen to join the discussion," Homura interjected, shuffling through his papers, "perhaps you can explain your teaching methodology. Specifically, how you thought it appropriate to teach the Chidori to an emotionally unstable Uchiha."

"Or," Koharu added, her voice sharp as senbon, "why you focused so heavily on one student while leaving another with such obviously poor chakra control."

Naruto flinched at the implied criticism. Kakashi stepped forward, his usually lazy demeanor replaced with rigid tension.

"My teaching decisions were approved by the Third Hokage himself," Kakashi's tone was carefully measured. "Sasuke needed specialized training to handle the Curse Mark - "

"A curse mark he received because you entered them in the Chūnin Exams too soon," Danzō interrupted. "Tell me, what was your plan if both your students had lost control during their battle? One with corrupted curse mark chakra, the other with the Nine-Tails? Or did you even have a plan?"

TWO HOURS AGO…

Through the rain, Kakashi arrived at the Valley of the End, Pakkun at his heels. The destruction was beyond anything he'd imagined – one of the founder statues partially crumbled, the waterfall running red with chakra-tainted water, the forest around them scarred beyond recognition.

"Both their scents are strong," Pakkun reported grimly. "But... different. Changed."

Kakashi's Sharingan revealed the lingering traces of two monstrous chakra signatures. One purple-black, like poisoned lightning. The other red and caustic, burning even in its absence.

"What did I do?" he whispered to himself, scanning the destruction. "What did I fail to see?"

Back in the chamber, Kakashi maintained his composure, but his fists were clenched at his sides. "Everything I did was to prepare them for the challenges we knew were coming. The curse mark, Orochimaru's interest, Itachi's return - "

"And in preparing for external threats," Danzō's voice dripped with false concern, "you missed the internal ones. Tell me, what does it say about your judgment that one student was willing to defect to a known traitor, while the other can't control the power within him?"

"That's not - " Naruto started to rise again, but Kakashi's hand fell on his shoulder, gently but firmly keeping him seated.

"My students," Kakashi's voice carried the edge of steel beneath its usual calm, "have faced challenges that would break most chūnin. They've survived situations that would kill most jōnin. And yes, they've made mistakes. But they've also shown courage, loyalty, and determination that any teacher would be proud of."

"Proud?" Koharu's laugh was brittle. "One student lies in a hospital bed, his mind corrupted by a curse mark. The other sits here, covered in chakra burns from a power he can't control. And between them, they've caused more damage to Fire Country than any foreign attack in recent memory. Is that what makes you proud, Kakashi?"

"What makes me proud," Kakashi's eye curved, but not in its usual cheerful way, "is that despite everything – despite the curse mark, despite the Nine-Tails, despite all the pressure and pain and loss they've endured – they're still here. Still fighting. Still trying to protect each other and this village."

"And that," Danzō tapped his cane once, hard, against the floor, "is precisely the problem. Your sentimental attachment to these children has blinded you to the reality of what they are. What they're capable of. What they could become."

"I know exactly what they're capable of," Kakashi's voice dropped dangerously low. "The question is, do you? Because from where I stand, you're so focused on what they might become that you've missed what they already are."

"And what," Homura leaned forward, "would that be?"

"The future of this village." Tsunade stepped forward, finally moving to stand beside Kakashi. "Whether you like it or not, these 'children' you're so quick to condemn are the next generation of Konoha's protectors. And right now, you're teaching them that success comes with punishment, that loyalty is met with suspicion, and that sacrifice earns only scorn."

"What we are teaching them," Danzō's eye fixed on Naruto, "is that actions have consequences. That power demands control. That good intentions do not excuse catastrophic results." He turned to Kakashi. "Perhaps if you had taught them the same, we wouldn't be here now."

The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken accusations and bitter truths.

Outside, the storm intensified, rain lashing against the windows like nature itself was trying to wash away the tensions within.

Naruto's hands trembled beneath the table as Danzō's words cut through his defenses. Each heartbeat seemed to echo with memories of the council chamber - Tsunade standing fierce and protective, her honey eyes blazing as she defended him. Kakashi's steady hand on his shoulder, his teacher's voice carrying an edge of steel beneath its usual calm as he spoke of pride in his students.

But what if they were wrong?

The thought crept in like poison, past his usual wall of determination and optimism. He remembered the destruction at the Valley of the End, the way his clawed hands had wrapped around Sasuke's throat. His friends lay in hospital beds because of him - not because of the Sound ninja, but because of his own chakra.

Because he couldn't control the power within him.

Maybe Danzō's right, the doubt whispered through his mind.

Maybe Kakashi-sensei and Baa-chan are just trying to protect me when I'm the real danger. Maybe I'm exactly what they think I am - a weapon that can't be trusted.

The storm's fury matched the turmoil in his heart as rain pelted against the windows. Tsunade had called him a shinobi of the Leaf, had defended his right to protect his precious people. But as he looked at his bandaged hands, all he could see was the red chakra that had burned through his skin, that had nearly killed his best friend in the name of saving him.

What kind of protector hurts everyone they're trying to save?

Kakashi's hand remained on Naruto's shoulder, a quiet reminder of support, even as he felt the tremors running through his student's frame. He'd failed them both in so many ways, but he wouldn't fail them now. Not when they needed him most.

"You're right," he said finally, surprising everyone in the room. "Actions do have consequences. Power does demand control. But loyalty?" His eye met Danzō's unflinchingly. "Loyalty demands trust. And right now, you're showing these shinobi – these loyal, brave, dedicated shinobi – that their village doesn't trust them. That it fears them." His eye curved again, but this time with clear warning. "And that, Danzō-sama, is a lesson that tends to teach itself."

The threat in those words hung in the air like static before a lightning strike.

"I believe," Koharu's voice sliced through the tension, "we've heard enough from our young shinobi." She turned her stern gaze to the genin. "You are dismissed. All of you. Return to your homes and await further notice."

Danzō's eye lingered on Naruto.

"Yes, Uzumaki-kun. Why don't you take this opportunity to explore the village with your friends?"

His lips curved in what might have been a smile, but held no warmth.

"After all, there's no telling how our... discussions might conclude."

The genin rose slowly, their movements stiff from both injuries and anxiety. Shikamaru's analytical gaze darted between the adults, clearly trying to read the underlying currents. Neji maintained his diplomatic mask, but his pale eyes reflected concern. Naruto stood last, his bandaged hands trembling slightly.

Only when the door closed behind them did Kakashi speak, his voice dropping its careful restraint. "There was no need for that final taunt, Danzō-sama. Naruto did what any loyal shinobi would do – everything in his power to save his comrades."

"And there," Homura cut in sharply, "is precisely the problem with your generation, Kakashi. This blatant insubordination, this casual disregard for proper protocol – even in front of the next generation of shinobi." He turned to Tsunade. "And you, Hokage-sama, seem to condone this behavior."

"Watch yourself, Homura," Tsunade warned, but Koharu was already speaking.

"The political climate is far too delicate for such displays. The Nine-Tails' chakra was felt as far as the capital. Noble families are already sending messages demanding explanations." She shuffled her papers meaningfully. "And here we have the Copy Ninja himself, demonstrating to impressionable young shinobi that challenging authority is acceptable."

"When that authority is wrong - " Kakashi started, but Danzō's cane struck the floor with a crack that echoed through the chamber.

"Wrong?" Danzō's voice was soft, dangerous. "Was it wrong to question how a genin lost control of the Nine-Tails? Wrong to be concerned when that loss of control nearly killed his teammates? Wrong to wonder why his jōnin instructor seems more interested in defending past mistakes than preventing future ones?"

Tsunade stepped forward, her honey-colored eyes hard as steel.

"Enough dancing around the issue. What is the council's decision regarding Naruto?"

The silence that followed was heavy with implication.

Finally, Koharu spoke, her words measured and precise. "This is not a matter for the council alone to decide. The ramifications of these events extend far beyond these walls." She met Tsunade's gaze steadily. "All noble families must be consulted. The political balance of the entire village is at stake."

"The entire village?" Tsunade's fingers tightened on her crossed arms. "Or just those parts of it that serve your particular interests?"

"Careful, Tsunade," Danzō rose slowly. "You're not just speaking as Naruto's defender now. You're speaking as Hokage. Remember which role takes precedence."

Through it all, Kakashi stood perfectly still, but his revealed eye caught Tsunade's for just a moment. In that brief glance, they shared the same unspoken concern: this was no longer about a mission debriefing or even Naruto's actions. This was the beginning of something larger, something that had been brewing since the Third's death.

The storm outside had quieted to a gentle rain, but within the chamber, the real tempest was just beginning.

"We will reconvene," Homura announced, "when all appropriate parties can be present. Until then, the Uzumaki boy is not to leave the village under any circumstances. Is that clear?"

Tsunade's jaw tightened, but she nodded once. As they filed out of the chamber, the weight of unspoken words hung in the air. They all knew that whatever came next would reshape not just Naruto's future, but the future of Konoha itself.

The council members departed first, their footsteps echoing down the corridor. Only when they were well away did Tsunade turn to Kakashi, her voice barely a whisper.

"Get me everything you know about the noble families' current political alignments. And Kakashi?" Her eyes narrowed. "Watch him. They won't move openly, not yet, but they won't stay still either."

Kakashi's eye curved, but there was no humor in it. "They never do."

As they left the chamber, the last rays of sunlight broke through the storm clouds, casting long shadows across the village. Somewhere in those shadows, decisions were already being made, alliances being formed and broken, all centering around a young shinobi who had done nothing more or less than try to save his friend.

The price of success, it seemed, was still being calculated.

MINUTES LATER…

Naruto hadn't noticed how quiet the streets were until the whispers started. A mother pulling her child closer as they passed. A vendor suddenly becoming very interested in rearranging his already-neat display. The subtle shift of bodies away from their group as they walked down the main street of Konoha.

His legs still ached from the battle, each step a reminder of chakra burns that hadn't quite healed. Around him, his teammates moved with similar careful movements – Neji's usually perfect posture slightly rigid, Kiba favoring his right side, Shikamaru's hands in his pockets but his shoulders tense.

"So," Kiba broke the uncomfortable silence, his voice forcefully casual, "anyone else think that wasn't really a debriefing?"

"Troublesome," Shikamaru muttered, but his eyes scanned the rooftops as they walked. "The whole thing was - "

He cut off as another group of villagers passed, their conversation dropping to whispers as they noticed Naruto. One woman's eyes widened in recognition, then fear, before she hurried her companions along.

They know, Naruto realized.

Somehow, they already knew about the Nine-Tails' chakra at the Valley of the End. About the destruction. About what he'd -

His stomach growled loudly, breaking his dark thoughts.

"Hey, hey!" He forced a grin, pointing ahead. "Ichiraku's is just around the corner! Old man Teuchi's ramen would really hit the spot right now, don't you think?"

But before he could take three steps, Shikamaru's hand landed on his shoulder.

"Let's try something else."

"But - "

"Something else," Shikamaru repeated quietly, his grip tightening just slightly.

As they turned down a side street, Neji fell into step beside Naruto. Without moving his lips, he whispered, "We're being followed. Have been since the council chamber. Keep your voice down."

Naruto's heart skipped a beat. Ahead of them, Akamaru's nose twitched constantly, and the small dog's hackles were raised. Kiba kept scratching behind his ear – a nervous tell he'd developed during their academy days.

They walked in silence for another block before Naruto couldn't stand it. "Who?" he whispered, trying to mimic Neji's subtle lip movements.

"Root," Shikamaru answered just as quietly, pretending to yawn. When he saw Naruto's confused expression, he added, "Special ANBU division. Directly under Danzō."

"I don't - "

"They're the shadows within shadows," Neji explained in barely a breath as they passed under a shop awning. "ANBU answer to the Hokage. Root answers only to Danzō. They're his personal force, operating outside normal channels. Outside normal rules."

A chill ran down Naruto's spine that had nothing to do with his healing injuries. He remembered Danzō's final words in the chamber, about 'freedom of action.' About being a weapon.

"Three of them," Kiba mumbled, pretending to scratch his nose. "Two on the roofs, one in the crowd. Akamaru can smell their chakra suppressants."

Naruto started to turn his head, but Shikamaru's hand found his shoulder again. "Don't," he warned quietly. "Just keep walking. Keep talking like nothing's wrong."

"How do you even know about - " Naruto began, but Shikamaru cut him off with a slight head shake.

"Our parents," he explained, voice barely audible. "They don't talk about Root directly, but you learn to read between the lines. Especially when certain topics make them go quiet."

They passed another group of villagers who quickly crossed to the other side of the street. Naruto's forced smile faltered for just a moment.

"It's not just about the mission anymore, is it?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

Neji's pale eyes met his for just a moment. "It never was."

The sun was setting over Konoha, casting long shadows between the buildings. Somewhere in those shadows, unseen eyes watched their every move, recording every word, every gesture, every person who avoided them – and every person who didn't.

"Hey," Naruto tried to sound cheerful, though his voice was barely above a whisper, "at least we got Sasuke back, right?"

None of his teammates answered. They didn't need to. The price of that success was becoming clearer with every whispered conversation, every averted gaze, every shadow that moved just a little too purposefully across the rooftops above.

The ramen shop's lanterns glowed warmly in the distance behind them, but somehow, Naruto wasn't hungry anymore.

"So..." Naruto's whisper was barely audible above their footsteps, "what should we do?"

Shikamaru guided them toward a less crowded street, his movements casual but deliberate. "For now? We lie low. Especially you, Naruto."

"All of us should keep our heads down," Neji added, his Byakugan activating for just a fraction of a second – enough to scan their surroundings without being obvious. "At least until we understand what game is being played."

Naruto's shoulders slumped.

"I'm sorry, guys. I never meant to get you all wrapped up in this political stuff. If I had just controlled the Nine-Tails better - "

A light punch to his shoulder cut off his apology. "Shut up, idiot," Kiba grinned, though his voice stayed quiet. "You're our friend. Getting into trouble together is kind of our thing, right?"

"Yeah, but - "

"Besides," Kiba's grin turned mischievous, "if anyone deserves a beating, it's that Sasuke. Maybe we should sneak into the hospital and draw on his face. You know, as payment for all this trouble he caused."

Despite everything – the pain, the fear, the shadows following them – Naruto couldn't help but chuckle. It was a small sound, nothing like his usual boisterous laugh, but it was genuine.

"What a drag," Shikamaru sighed, but there was a hint of amusement in his tired voice.

Naruto's smile faded. "You don't have to pretend it's okay, Shikamaru. I know this is all - "

"Troublesome?" Shikamaru finished for him, then shrugged. "Yeah, it is. But we've been getting into trouble since we were academy students stealing snacks from the teacher's lounge. This is just..." he paused, considering his words carefully, "a more sophisticated kind of trouble."

"The political machinery of Konoha was always going to catch up to us eventually," Neji added softly, his eyes forward but alert. "Especially those of us from prominent families. Shikamaru and I were born into this game, whether we wanted to play or not."

"I'm sorry," Naruto whispered again, his guilt evident in every syllable. "You shouldn't have to deal with all this just because of me."

Neji stopped walking, causing the others to pause. For a moment, he seemed to be considering the setting sun, but his next words were aimed directly at Naruto. "Do you remember what you taught me during the Chūnin Exams? About destiny?"

"I... yeah, but - "

"The greatest trials," Neji's voice was firm but quiet, "always come right before people change their destinies. Remember that, Naruto. No matter what happens next, remember that."

The weight of those words hung in the evening air.

Around them, the village was settling into its nighttime routine – lights coming on in windows, dinner smells wafting from restaurants, children being called home. It all seemed so normal, so peaceful. But now they could see the currents moving beneath that peace, the shadows within shadows.

"Still," Kiba whispered, Akamaru pressed close to his leg, "drawing on Sasuke's face is definitely still on the table, right?"

This time, Naruto's chuckle was a bit stronger, a bit more like his old self. His friends might be wrapped up in this mess because of him, but they were still here, still standing beside him.

Whatever came next, whatever Danzō and the council were planning, he wasn't facing it alone.

Above them, a shadow moved across a rooftop – too smooth, too purposeful to be natural. But for just a moment, surrounded by his friends, Naruto found he wasn't as afraid of the darkness as he had been before.

After all, as Neji had said, the greatest trials came right before destiny changed. And if there was one thing Uzumaki Naruto was good at, it was changing destiny.

Even if, right now, he had to do it in whispers.

AN HOUR LATER…

The abandoned training ground at the village's edge was silent save for the occasional rustle of leaves. Kakashi arrived exactly on time – a clear sign of how serious the situation was.

Jiraiya materialized from the shadows of an old oak tree, his usual boisterous demeanor subdued. "Thanks for coming, Kakashi. Figured it'd be better if Tsunade sat this one out. She's..." he paused, searching for the right word.

"Unable to maintain objectivity?" Kakashi suggested, his visible eye creasing slightly.

"That's diplomatic of you." Jiraiya settled against the tree trunk. "Though from what I heard, you weren't exactly the picture of composure yourself in there."

Kakashi's shoulder moved in what might have been a shrug. "Perhaps not."

"Ha!" Jiraiya's laugh was quiet but genuine. "Just as well it was you two in there. If I'd been present for that farce of a debriefing..." His fist clenched reflexively. "Let's just say Danzō would have needed more than one walking stick."

"Assaulting a council member?" Kakashi's eye curved slightly. "And here I thought you were their top choice for Hokage."

"All the more reason to punch him," Jiraiya's grin was sharp in the gathering darkness. Then, sobering: "How did the kid hold up in there?"

Kakashi was quiet for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "They weren't subtle about their intentions. Used the team's injuries against him. Twisted everything to paint him as unstable, dangerous."

His voice hardened slightly. "A weapon to be controlled."

"Classic Danzō," Jiraiya muttered. "Create a crisis, then present himself as the solution." He turned to face Kakashi directly. "What's your read on it?"

"This was never about the mission report. They're building a case, gathering evidence. The noble families will be involved next." Kakashi's eye narrowed. "Tsunade wants intelligence on their current political alignments."

"Smart woman," Jiraiya nodded. "They'll try to isolate him first. Turn public opinion, create fear. Make whatever they're planning seem like the only reasonable solution." He glanced toward the village, where lights were beginning to flicker on. "Root's probably already watching him."

"Already confirmed. My ninken picked up their scent trails near the team after the debriefing."

Jiraiya's expression darkened. "Moving faster than I expected." He pushed off from the tree, pacing slowly. "They're worried about something. This level of aggression, this soon after the Third's death..." He shook his head. "They're afraid."

"Of Naruto?"

"Of change." Jiraiya stopped pacing.

"The old power structures are shifting. Tsunade as Hokage, Naruto growing stronger, the next generation starting to ask questions..." He turned back to Kakashi. "Fear makes old men desperate. Desperate men make mistakes."

"Or they become more dangerous," Kakashi countered softly.

"True enough." Jiraiya's eyes fixed on the Hokage Monument, barely visible in the dying light. "Watch Sasuke closely. Make sure he doesn't stray again. We can't afford to give them any more ammunition."

"And Naruto?"

A heavy silence fell between them. Finally, Jiraiya spoke, his voice carrying the weight of years of watching history repeat itself. "Protect him where you can, but..." He sighed. "Some storms you have to let build. Sometimes the lightning has to strike before the air can clear."

Kakashi absorbed this, understanding the layers beneath the Sannin's words. "Tsunade won't like that approach."

"Tsunade doesn't have to like it. She just has to be ready when the storm breaks." Jiraiya's expression was grim. "Because it will break, Kakashi. Sooner than any of us would like."

Above them, a night bird called – three times, then silence. Both shinobi tensed slightly, recognizing the pattern of a Root surveillance signal.

"Well," Jiraiya's voice returned to its usual jovial tone, though his eyes remained sharp, "I should go write some more research for my next book. Can't let politics get in the way of art, after all!"

Kakashi nodded, playing along.

"Maa, I look forward to reading it, Jiraiya-sama."

As they prepared to depart in different directions, Jiraiya added quietly, "The Will of Fire burns brightest in the darkest times, Kakashi. Remember that. And make sure he remembers it too."

Then they were gone, leaving the training ground empty save for the shadows – and whatever eyes might be hiding within them.

AN HOUR LATER…

The setting sun cast long shadows across the academy grounds, painting the familiar swing and practice targets in shades of amber and gold. Hinata spotted them first, her Byakugan activating instinctively at the sound of approaching footsteps.

"They're here!" she called out, her usual softness replaced by urgency. "Everyone, they're - " She stopped short as she took in their conditions, the bandages, the careful way they moved.

The rest of the Konoha Eleven burst from their waiting spot near the academy entrance. Tenten reached Neji first, her weapon-calloused hands hovering uncertainly over his bandages. Chōji was still in the hospital, his absence a palpable void in their group.

"Is it true?" Rock Lee asked, his usually booming voice subdued as he leaned his bandaged foot against a crutch. "About Sasuke-kun?"

"We brought him back," Shikamaru confirmed, but his tone carried no triumph. He eyed the shoulder brace that assisted Lee's bandaged arm.

Ino's sharp intake of breath drew attention – not to Shikamaru's words, but to what he wasn't saying. Her father's position in Intelligence had taught her to read between lines, to see the political currents that ran beneath simple mission reports.

"The debriefing," she said quietly, her blue eyes scanning their faces. "It wasn't just about the mission, was it?"

Hinata's hands clasped together, a nervous habit that betrayed her own understanding. Growing up in the Hyūga compound had given her an intimate knowledge of how power moved through Konoha's noble houses.

"The council's involvement suggests larger implications," Shino spoke from beneath his high collar, insects buzzing softly in agitation. "Why? Because a simple retrieval mission, even one involving a clan heir, wouldn't warrant such scrutiny."

Naruto's stomach twisted as he watched Sakura approach.

He couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes, not yet.

The promise he'd made echoed in his mind: "I'll bring him back, Sakura-chan! That's a promise of a lifetime!" He'd said it so easily then, with that big stupid grin on his face, thumb raised high. Like it was just another challenge to overcome, just another obstacle to push through with sheer determination.

But now...

His bandaged hands trembled slightly as fragments of memory flashed through his mind: Sasuke's curse mark spreading like spilled ink across his skin, the cold look in his friend's eyes as he declared he would kill him, the desperate plea in his own voice as he begged Sasuke to come home. Then... red. Everything had gone red.

He'd brought Sasuke back, just like he promised. But as he sensed Sakura getting closer, felt the weight of her presence, he wondered if the cost had been too high. Would she ever look at him the same way again, knowing what he'd become? Knowing what he'd had to do to keep that promise?

"Is it true?" Sakura's voice cut through the thought, her green eyes fixed on Naruto. "They're saying... they're saying you used the Nine-Tails. Against Sasuke-kun."

The academy grounds fell silent. Even the evening crickets seemed to hold their song.

"I..." Naruto's voice caught in his throat. "It wasn't like that. I didn't want to - "

"Didn't want to what?" Sakura stepped forward, her fists clenched. "Didn't want to turn into that thing? Didn't want to hurt him? Look at what happened to everyone!" She gestured at their injured teammates. "Look at what you did!"

"Sakura," Hinata started, but Sakura wasn't finished.

"You promised me," her voice cracked, tears gathering in her eyes. "You promised you'd bring him back safely. Not like... not like..."

"I tried!" Naruto's outburst startled even himself. "I tried everything else first! I talked to him, I tried to talk some sense into him, I - " His voice broke. "He was going to kill me, Sakura-chan. He said he had to kill me to get stronger, to get his revenge. I begged him to come back, but he just kept - "

Naruto's hands trembled as the memories flooded back. "The last thing I remember was thinking I couldn't let him go. That I couldn't fail everyone again. Then everything went red, and I... I..."

"The Nine-Tails' chakra emerged without Naruto's conscious control," Neji interjected, his pale eyes meeting Sakura's angry gaze. "I saw it with my Byakugan. It wasn't a choice. It was desperation."

"Desperation?" Sakura's laugh was bitter, tearful. "Is that supposed to make it better? That he lost control? That he could have - " She choked on the words.

"Could have what?" Naruto's voice was small, afraid of the answer.

"Could have killed him!" Sakura shouted, tears now flowing freely. "Could have killed all of them! Could have - " She stopped, horror crossing her face as she realized what she was saying.

Naruto stepped back as if physically struck.

"Sakura-chan, I..."

"Just... just don't," she wrapped her arms around herself, turning away. "I can't... I can't look at you right now."

The moment shattered as a figure appeared among them, moving so smoothly it seemed to glide. Pale skin that nearly matched the blank porcelain mask, dark clothing that seemed to drink in what remained of the sunlight.

The genin's reactions were instant – Neji's Byakugan flaring, Shikamaru's shadow stretching, Kiba and Akamaru's growls harmonizing, Shino's insects humming louder. Even those who hadn't been part of the retrieval mission sensed the danger, falling into defensive stances.

The Root operative seemed to take no notice of their reactions.

"Uzumaki Naruto," the voice was emotionless, artificial. "A message."

A sealed scroll extended from one pale hand. Naruto stepped forward to take it, his teammates tensing as he moved closer to the Root member.

The moment the scroll left the operative's hand, they vanished – not in a swirl of leaves or puff of smoke, but simply... ceased to be there, as if they'd never existed at all.

"Naruto?" Hinata's soft voice carried worry. "What... what is it?"

The scroll crackled as Naruto broke the seal. His blue eyes scanned the contents, widening slightly. When he looked up, the tears from moments ago had dried, replaced by something harder, colder.

"It's a summons," he said, his voice steady despite everything. "I'm..."

He swallowed hard.

"I'm being put on trial."

The last rays of sunlight faded from the academy grounds, leaving them in the growing darkness. Somewhere in the distance, a bell tolled – the same bell that had marked the beginning and end of their school days, what felt like a lifetime ago.

Sakura stood apart from the group now, her back turned, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Naruto watched her, his own tears falling, the summons scroll heavy in his hands – a weight almost as heavy as the knowledge that he might have saved Sasuke, but at the cost of something equally precious.

The trust of a friend.

The bell tolled in the distance, marking not just the end of a day, but perhaps the end of Team 7 as they had known it. Because some things, once broken, can never be put back together quite the same way.

Now, it tolled for something else entirely. The end of innocence, perhaps. Or the beginning of a storm that had been brewing since the day a baby boy had a demon sealed inside him.

Hinata's hands trembled as she fought the urge to reach out. Shikamaru's mind raced through scenarios, each darker than the last. Sakura's tears fell silently now, for Sasuke, for Naruto, for the team that would never be the same.

And Naruto... Naruto stood in the center of it all, holding a scroll that felt heavier than any weight he'd carried before. The scroll that proved what they'd all begun to suspect:

The real battle was only just beginning.

End

Man…Even when writing this, I felt furious.

I could only imagine what it's like for you guys when you're reading it too.

Unfortunately, Naruto will be struggling in chapter 2 and parts of chapter 3.

But circumstances will get better for him, we just got wait and endure a little.

Now I don't want to spoil anything else, but I do hope this chapter was to your liking even if can be a bit agitating to read.

More Chapters are posted on my p.a.t.r.e.o.n Feel free to check it out lads, here's the link

www.#patr#eon.#com/Demon_Knight939 (Just remove all the hashtags)

See you all on the next update!

Chapter 2: chapter 2

Hey guys.

Glad you’re all here with me.

Now I already mentioned this in the previous chapter in the author notes, but unfortunately, Naruto’s hardship will still persist in this chapter and in parts of chapter three.

So… this chapter will still be a tough read, but when we get past it and read the future chapters, we’ll just enjoy the retribution much more.

We just need to endure until then.

Start:

The water was wrong.

That was Naruto's first thought as he found himself wading through an endless sea of red liquid that should have scalded his skin but somehow didn't. Steam rose like malevolent spirits around him, painting the world in shades of crimson and shadow. Each step led him deeper into the maze-like corridors until he reached a vast chamber, where massive bars rose from the boiling water into darkness above.

And there it waited - the Nine-Tailed Fox, its massive form barely contained by the ancient seal. That smile, that horrible knowing smile, stretched across its face like a wound.

"This is your fault!" Naruto screamed, his voice echoing off walls he couldn't see. "If I didn't have you inside me - if I could just control -"

His fists clenched at his sides. "Everyone's hurt because of you! Sasuke's in the hospital, my friends are scared of me, and that debriefing..."

The Fox's eyes rolled with ancient irritation.

"Are you really this blind, kid?" The words carried more exhaustion than malice. "You actually think this is about me?"

"Of course it is! If I hadn't used your chakra -"

"You completed your mission," the Fox cut him off, sounding almost tired of stating the obvious. "You brought back their precious Uchiha. And how did they repay you?" A massive paw gestured dismissively. "Where was your Hokage's famous temper when Danzo questioned you? Where was your brilliant teacher's defense?"

"They... they had to follow protocol - "

"Protocol?" Now the Fox actually sounded concerned, in the way one might be for someone walking straight off a cliff. "Is that what you're telling yourself? The same command that sent genin against the Sound Four?" Its head tilted slightly. "You can't really be this naive."

"The others were there!" Naruto's voice wavered. "Neji and Shikamaru, they saw everything! They know what we faced - "

"And they sat there in silence," the Fox sighed. "Your friends, your comrades - all those bonds you're so proud of... where were their voices when it mattered?"

"They're just following - "

"Orders. Yes. Always orders." The Fox's tails swished with agitation. "You're going to keep making excuses for them until it's too late, aren't you? And here I thought self-preservation was a basic human trait."

Naruto fell to his knees in the boiling water, the Fox's words hitting closer to home than he wanted to admit. The demon's expression wasn't cruel now, just... disappointed. As if watching someone repeatedly hurt themselves while insisting they were fine.

"Stop looking at me like that," Naruto whispered, but the certainty had left his voice.

"Like what? Like someone who can see what's right in front of you?" The Fox settled back, its voice carrying something almost like sympathy. "You're not as stupid as you act, kid. Stop pretending you don't see it too. You’re almost making me feel sorry for you."

Something in that silence compelled Naruto to look up, to meet those ancient eyes that seemed to see through every layer of denial he'd built around himself. The steam rose between them like curtains of blood, and for a moment, everything stood perfectly still.

Then, like stones dropping into still water, the Fox's voice broke the silence:

"Pathetic."

The word rumbled through the chamber like distant thunder.

"I preferred you out of control. At least then you were honest with yourself. We both know you wanted to fight that Uchiha. You enjoyed it."

Naruto jerked awake with a strangled gasp, cold sweat soaking through his clothes despite the morning chill.

For a moment, he could still feel the heat of that red water, still see that knowing smile in the darkness. His heart hammered against his ribs as reality slowly reasserted itself - the familiar walls of his apartment, the soft glow of dawn creeping through his window, the distant sounds of a village coming to life.

But something was different about this morning.

The sun climbed higher, marking the third day since his return to Konoha. Three days that had transformed his home into something he barely recognized, yet paradoxically, into something achingly familiar. The old isolation that had colored his earliest memories crept back like frost reclaiming spring ground, turning warmth to brittle distance.

His muscles protested as he dressed, still sore from the battle, still carrying the memory of that caustic chakra. Outside, the usual bustle of merchants setting up their stalls seemed muted, their movements less hurried, their voices hushed. Naruto's footsteps echoed too loudly on the familiar streets as he made his way through the village, the morning air carrying an unusual chill for this time of year.

Just like back then, he thought, the realization settling heavily in his chest. The whispers, the averted gazes, the careful distance people maintained - it was a dance he knew all too well from his childhood.

But this time, the choreography carried a sharper edge. Now he understood exactly why they feared him, why they pulled their children closer as he passed.

Even Ichiraku's felt different. The steam from the cooking ramen rose like ghosts in the early light, and when Naruto approached with his usual grin - practiced, forced - old man Teuchi's eyes carried something worse than annoyance at another tab request. There was pity there, soft and uncomfortable, as he waved away Naruto's attempt to promise future payment.

"Good luck, kid," was all he said, his voice lacking its usual gruff warmth.

The village felt different as he walked its familiar streets. Usually, he'd spot Shikamaru lounging on his favorite rooftop by now, complaining about how troublesome morning clouds were. The Akimichi family restaurant would be filled with Choji's laughter as he convinced Kiba to try their new spicy dumplings. He'd hear the rhythmic clash of weapons from the Hyuga compound where Neji trained, and see Tenten testing the balance of newly forged kunai outside the weapons shop, her critical eye catching imperfections others would miss.

But today, those spaces felt like hollow echoes of themselves. Each empty spot where a friend should be made the village feel a little less like home.

The familiar streets he'd run down a thousand times now felt like a maze leading to the looming arena. The morning sun cast long shadows from the unfamiliar banners, making them seem to reach for him like grasping fingers.

It's like standing between two villages, Naruto thought, his bandaged hands deep in his pockets. One was the Konoha he knew, bright and loud and full of precious people. The other was this strange, quiet place where even familiar faces turned away too quickly. Like watching his home slowly become foreign territory.

The Chunin Exam Arena loomed ahead, and Naruto couldn't help but laugh - a soft, bitter sound that surprised even him. The last time he'd walked through those gates, he'd been fighting to prove himself worthy of promotion, to show everyone he deserved to be seen as more than just the demon-vessel. Now, mere months later, he was returning to face judgment for embodying their worst fears about exactly what he was.

The universe has a sick sense of humor, he mused, studying the unfamiliar banners that now adorned the familiar structure. The same arena where he'd promised Hinata he'd win for her, where he'd faced Neji and challenged fate itself - now it would host a different kind of battle. One he wasn't sure his usual determination could win.

The noble families' presence felt like an invasion, their formal attire and ancient crests transforming the shinobi village into something from his old academy textbooks. Their carefully neutral expressions couldn't quite hide the calculation in their eyes as they assessed him - not as a young ninja who'd completed his mission, but as a threat to be contained.

These past three days had stretched like years, each hour marked by the growing distance between himself and the life he'd built. No visits from his friends, no chance encounters in the street, no familiar faces offering encouragement. Just silence, punctuated by whispers that followed him like autumn leaves:

"That's him..."

"The Nine-Tails boy..."

"Did you hear what happened at the Valley of the End?"

"My cousin's shop near there was completely destroyed..."

"They say he nearly killed the Uchiha survivor..."

Each step made Konoha feel lees like home. These weren't the usual suspicious glances he'd grown up with - this was something colder, more calculated. The noble families watched him with eyes that seemed to weigh not just his actions, but his very existence.

The whispers followed him, each one driving the Fox's words deeper: Did you expect them to defend you?

The irony wasn't lost on him - the place where he'd once fought to prove his worth would now host his reckoning. But unlike the Chunin Exams, there would be no cheering crowds this time. No friends in the stands supporting him. No Kakashi-sensei's eye-smile offering silent encouragement.

But I brought him back, Naruto thought, his hands clenching in his pockets. Sasuke's here, not with Orochimaru. He's not some weapon for the Sound. I completed the mission. Why isn't anyone talking about that?

He tried to hold onto hope, to remember Tsunade's fierce defense in the council chamber, Kakashi's steady presence. They would make things right. They had to. But even his usual optimism felt fragile in the morning's strange quiet.

Where was protocol when they sent a genin after the Uchiha? The Fox's words echoed in his mind as more villagers crossed to avoid his path. Your friends, your comrades - all those bonds you're so proud of... where were their voices when it mattered?

The arena loomed ahead, its shadows somehow longer than he remembered from the exams that felt like a lifetime ago. So much for a private trial, he thought, but couldn't quite manage his usual grin.

This time, he wouldn't be fighting for a promotion. He'd be fighting for something far more precious - his place in the only home he'd ever known.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Lost in this strange version of his home, a familiar voice cut through his growing unease like a warm knife through butter.

"Naruto!"

The sound of Iruka-sensei calling his name nearly made his knees buckle with relief. His teacher's presence was like finding an anchor in a storm, something real and steady in this shifting landscape.

"Iruka-sensei!" Naruto tried to inject his usual energy into the greeting, falling into step beside his first teacher. "Did you see all these fancy banners? I didn't even know we had this many noble families! Though I probably should've paid more attention in your history lectures, huh?"

"You really should be more careful on missions, Naruto," Iruka chided, his eyes softening as they caught another glimpse of bandages peeking out from under Naruto's sleeve. "Look at you, all bruised up. What am I going to do with you?"

Naruto managed a genuine grin this time, the first one since he'd returned to the village.

"Aw, come on, Iruka-sensei! These are just love taps! You should see the other guy!" The joke fell flat as soon as he said it, his smile faltering as he remembered exactly how the 'other guy' looked right now, lying in a hospital bed.

Iruka seemed to sense the shift in his mood, ruffling Naruto's hair like he used to back in the academy days. "Well, next time try showing your opponents a little less 'love,' hmm? You're giving your old teacher gray hairs."

Something warm bloomed in Naruto's chest at the familiar gesture, at the way Iruka's scolding carried more worry than disappointment.

Everyone else looks at me differently now, he thought, watching his former teacher's concerned expression. Like I'm either a weapon or a threat. But Iruka-sensei... he still sees just me.

"Sorry for worrying you, sensei," Naruto said softly, but something in Iruka's concerned expression made the Fox's words echo louder. Always making excuses for you, always trying to protect you.

"That's what you said after the paint incident with the Hokage Monument," Iruka reminded him with a knowing smile. "And the graduation exam. And that time with the cafeteria ceiling..."

But their shared laughter felt hollow now. Different. Like an adult humoring a child's mistakes.

As they approached the arena's entrance, Iruka placed a gentle hand on Naruto's shoulder, stopping them both.

"Naruto," his voice was quiet but firm, "listen carefully. In there, you need to stay calm. Speak only when spoken to, and never say more than you have to. This isn't like our classroom where you could talk your way out of trouble."

Something snapped inside Naruto.

"That's it, isn't it?" His voice came out harder than intended. "Still treating me like your problem student. Poor Naruto, always needing someone to watch over him, to make sure he doesn't mess up again."

"Naruto, that's not -"

"I completed the mission!" The words burst out, weeks of frustration finally finding voice. "I brought Sasuke back! But you're still looking at me like... like I'm just some weakling who needs protecting. Like I'm still that kid who couldn't even make a proper clone!"

"You know that's not true," Iruka's voice carried hurt now. "I'm just worried-"

"Yeah, everyone's worried," Naruto stepped back, breaking contact. "Worried about what I might do. Worried about what I might break. Never proud of what I actually accomplished."

He turned toward the arena entrance, ignoring Iruka calling after him. Maybe Tsunade and Kakashi would have better news. Maybe someone would finally see him as more than just a problem to be solved.

The darkness of the arena entrance swallowed him whole, leaving Iruka standing in the morning light, his hand still reaching toward where his student had been.

 

AT THE SAME TIME…

Tsunade's fingers drummed against the carved wooden railing of the viewing box, her honey-colored eyes scanning the arena below.

The morning light caught the ornate decorations that had transformed the usually sparse battle ground - rich tapestries bearing noble family crests, formal seating arrangements, and at the center, that damned podium.

Like vultures setting up their feeding ground, she thought bitterly.

"Your anger is showing, Hokage-sama," Shikaku's quiet observation cut through her dark thoughts. The Nara clan head stood just behind her left shoulder, his scarred face carefully neutral. "Danzo will use that."

"Let him try," she muttered, but her fingers stilled their drumming.

Tsunade's fingers traced the rim of an untouched sake cup someone had left in the viewing box. Not today, she thought grimly. She needed all her wits about her.

Inoichi moved to her other side, his long blonde hair catching the sun. "He's already trying. Every noble family in that arena has heard whispers about your... personal investment in the boy's future." His pale eyes tracked the movement of clustered nobles below. "They're calling it a conflict of interest."

"They can call it whatever they want." But Tsunade felt the weight of their counsel. From their elevated position, she could see Danzo and the council members in the Kage's box above, their forms dark against the morning sky. Looking down on everything, as usual.

"With respect," Shikaku's voice dropped even lower, "that's exactly what Danzo wants. Every display of favoritism becomes evidence in his case. Every emotional response proves his point about unchecked power and compromised judgment."

The bustling crowd below moved like water, noble families in their formal wear mixing with curious villagers who'd somehow gained entry. The familiar arena had been transformed into something altogether different - less a battleground and more a theater, with that solitary podium waiting center stage.

"The charges will be carefully chosen," Shikaku mused, his shadow stretching long across the viewing box floor. "They won't directly attack his status as a jinchūriki - that would be too obvious, too easy to defend against."

"Instead, they'll focus on control," Inoichi added, his intelligence training evident in how he dissected the situation. "The damage to the Valley of the End, the injuries to his teammates, the psychological impact on witnesses. They'll paint a picture of escalating incidents."

Might Guy's usual exuberance was notably absent as he leaned against the railing. "Where is my eternal rival? Kakashi should be here for his student."

"Personal errands," Tsunade replied curtly, though they all understood what that meant.

Kakashi was where he needed to be, gathering whatever advantages they could find.

"What about your students?” Tsunade continued. “How are they holding up?"

Kurenai's red eyes narrowed slightly. "Hinata is... struggling. The Hyūga clan has been holding closed-door meetings since yesterday. Neji's injuries have given the traditionalists new ammunition against the main family's... progressive policies."

"They'll use that," Shikaku noted. "Every noble clan that feels threatened by change will see this as their chance to restore the old order. Naruto represents something they fear - power outside their control."

"But what defense can we mount?" Guy's fist clenched. "The flames of youth burn bright in Naruto-kun, but against political machinery..."

"The mission was a success," Kurenai pointed out. "The target was retrieved, the enemy neutralized."

Inoichi shook his head slowly.

"They'll twist that too. Why did it require that level of force against a fellow Konoha shinobi? Why risk such collateral damage for a single retrieval?"

"Because the alternative was losing him to Orochimaru," Tsunade snapped, her patience wearing thin. "Because sometimes protecting someone means protecting them from themselves."

"Careful," Shikaku warned quietly. "That kind of reasoning plays right into Danzo's hands. He'll argue that's exactly why Naruto needs to be... contained. For everyone's protection, including his own."

A heavy silence fell over the viewing box. Below, more noble families filed in, their formal attire a sharp contrast to the usual ninja gear the arena typically hosted.

"The boy's greatest defense might be his own record," Guy offered finally. "His actions during the Chunin Exam invasion, his role in bringing you back to the village, Tsunade-sama. His unwavering loyalty to Konoha."

"Loyalty they'll call blind devotion," Inoichi countered. "Enthusiasm they'll label as recklessness. Every positive can be twisted into a negative when you're building a case for control."

Tsunade's hand tightened around the sake cup. "So what do you suggest? That we just let them-"

Her words cut off as the crowd below suddenly hushed. Through the viewing box's opening, they could see Naruto entering with Iruka, looking impossibly young in the morning light.

"Whatever you're planning, Tsunade-sama," Shikaku's voice carried quiet warning, "remember that every action now becomes part of their evidence. Every display of emotion-"

But she was already moving, her feet carrying her toward the stairs.

She felt Shikaku reach for her arm and heard Inoichi's quiet sigh. She knew they were right - every move she made now would be scrutinized, used, twisted. But seeing Naruto down there, surrounded by whispers and stares...

Some things matter more than politics, she thought fiercely as she descended.

Some bonds run deeper than strategy.

Behind her, she heard Guy murmur something about the springtime of youth never burning brighter than in the darkest moments. For once, she found herself hoping he was right.

"I know what I'm doing," she cut him off, though they both knew that wasn't entirely true. She felt dozens of eyes tracking her movement as she descended from the viewing box, felt the whispers following her path.

Let them watch, she thought fiercely. Let them see exactly where I stand.

She reached Naruto just as the whispers were starting to build again, her hand closing around his arm with gentle firmness. Without a word, she pulled him away from the crowd, away from Iruka's worried gaze and the hungry stares of the nobles. They had precious little time, and she'd be damned if she wasted it worrying about appearances now.

Hold on, kid, she thought as she led him toward a quieter corner of the arena. Just hold on. We're not letting them win this one.

Behind them, the crowd's whispers grew louder, and somewhere above, she knew Danzo was watching every move. But in that moment, all that mattered was the trembling she could feel under her hand, and the steel she needed to help this boy find within himself before he faced what was coming.

 

AT THE SAME TIME…

Kakashi kept his face buried in his book, but his visible eye tracked every movement in the arena below. The familiar pages of Icha Icha Paradise provided the perfect cover for observation, though today he found no comfort in its well-worn passages.

The morning light caught the edges of the pages differently, making even this small pleasure feel somehow foreign.

The sudden hush that fell over the crowd drew his attention more sharply than any battle cry could have. Naruto's bright orange jacket stood out against the sea of formal wear like a defiant flame, Iruka's protective presence beside him doing little to shield him from the piercing stares and whispered judgments.

When did you get so small, Naruto? Kakashi thought, watching his student's usually boundless energy confined to careful steps.

The movement in the viewing box above caught his attention – Tsunade's decisive stride toward the stairs, exactly as they'd discussed. His cue. He slipped his book away, though his fingers lingered on its spine like a farewell to simpler times.

Moving through the crowd was second nature, his years of training allowing him to slide between nobles and villagers like a shadow between leaves. Each step brought fresh whispers to his ears, and darker thoughts to his mind.

Would you be disappointed, Sensei? The memory of Minato's gentle smile twisted something in his chest. I was supposed to protect them both.

The Valley of the End rose unbidden in his memory – the devastation he'd found there had stolen his breath more effectively than any battle. Massive gouges torn through ancient stone, the stench of burned earth and that horrible, cloying chakra still hanging in the air. The waterfall had run red that day, and not just from the setting sun.

Two children, he thought bitterly, passing another cluster of whispering nobles. Two children with the power to reshape the landscape, and I couldn't reach either of them in time.

He could still see it clearly – Pakkun leading him to where Naruto lay unconscious, the rain washing away the blood but not the evidence of what had happened there. The dropped headband with its scratched surface telling a story he wasn't ready to read.

Did I fail them both? Or did I fail them differently?

The hidden door to the storage room was exactly where it should be, untouched by the arena's temporary transformation. Kakashi slipped inside, the musty air a sharp contrast to the politically charged atmosphere outside.

Minutes later, the door opened again. Tsunade entered first, her hand still firm on Naruto's shoulder. The boy's confusion was written clearly across his face, blue eyes darting between his teacher and the Hokage.

"What's going on?" Naruto asked, his voice smaller than Kakashi had ever heard it. "Why are we-"

"I may have left a few clones of my own scattered about," Kakashi added lightly, though his visible eye held no humor. "The crowd seems quite interested in all of us being in several places at once."

The storage room's dim light caught the dust motes dancing between them, making the moment feel suspended in time. Tsunade's honey-colored eyes fixed on Naruto with an intensity that made him take half a step back.

"Listen carefully, because we don't have much time," she said, her voice pitched low and urgent.

"Your fight with Sasuke and what happened afterward – the Nine-Tails' chakra, the destruction at the Valley – it's created a situation we can't easily control. The Land of Fire's nobles are demanding answers, and some of our own people are all too eager to provide them."

Just like back then, Kakashi thought, watching Naruto's face struggle to process each word.

The same whispers, the same fear dressed up as concern for the village's safety.

"But I was just trying to bring Sasuke back!" Naruto's voice cracked slightly. "You assigned the mission, Granny Tsunade! I had to-"

"I know," Tsunade cut him off, but her hand on his shoulder was gentle. "And that's exactly why I'll be defending you. As Hokage, I authorized the mission. But Naruto, you have to understand – there are people who've been waiting for an opportunity like this. People who see you as a weapon to be controlled, not a shinobi of the Leaf."

The confusion in Naruto's eyes deepened, mixing with something that looked painfully like betrayal.

"But... but the village..."

He's too young for this, Kakashi thought, his chest tightening.

Too young to understand how fear can turn neighbors into strangers, how quickly loyalty can become suspicion.

The echoes of another time, another tragedy, seemed to whisper through the musty air.

"When you're in there," Tsunade continued, her words carrying the weight of command now, "you need to stay quiet. Let me handle the questions. No matter what they say about you, about the mission, about Sasuke – you cannot let them provoke an emotional response. Danzo's counting on that. He'll use your own heart against you if you let him."

Naruto's shoulders hunched slightly, his bandaged hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

"I don't... I don't understand. Why are they doing this? I just wanted to save my friend..."

The raw confusion in his voice made something in Kakashi crack. He'd heard that same tone years ago, in questions that never got answers – why did the clan have to die? Why did Itachi have to leave? Why couldn't anyone stop it?

Not this time, Kakashi thought fiercely. We're not losing another child to fear and politics.

But watching Naruto try to grasp the situation, his usual brightness dimmed by confusion and hurt, Kakashi wondered if they were already too late to prevent some losses.

The silence in the storage room felt heavier than any mission briefing Kakashi had ever attended. Through his revealed eye, he watched his student fidget with the bandages on his hands - a nervous habit that made him look impossibly young. Too young for the weight being placed on those shoulders.

"The noble houses are..." Kakashi met Tsunade's questioning gaze, choosing his words carefully. "Complicated. Danzo's influence runs deeper than we anticipated."

He pulled his ever-present book from his vest, extracting the carefully folded papers hidden within its pages. The book felt lighter without them, as if the gravity of their contents had been physical rather than metaphorical.

Tsunade's honey-colored eyes scanned the intelligence report, her lips pressing into an ever-thinner line. Kakashi had spent days gathering this information, moving through shadows within shadows, listening to whispered conversations in tea houses and private gardens. What he'd found had kept him awake at night.

The Hyuga clan's traditionalist faction gaining strength. The Akimichi's understandable bitterness over Choji's condition. Even the usually reliable Nara and Yamanaka staying carefully neutral. Each detail was a piece in a puzzle that formed an increasingly concerning picture.

"Hey, hey," Naruto's attempt at his usual cheerful tone cracked slightly around the edges. "I'm kinda nervous about what's gonna happen in there. What's the worst that could happen, right?"

Kakashi felt something in his chest constrict at the forced brightness in that voice. Always trying to lighten the mood, even now. Even here. "This is... unprecedented, Naruto. We're in uncharted territory."

"That's good though, right? If it hasn't happened before?"

Oh, Naruto. Kakashi thought, remembering another bright-eyed boy who'd believed in the inherent fairness of the world. Some things don't need precedent to break your heart.

"It depends," Tsunade's voice carried the weight of years of political maneuvering. She turned to Kakashi, her next words heavy with unspoken meaning. "Send word to Jiraiya. Tell him to prepare for the worst."

"What's that mean?" Naruto's voice had lost its forced cheer now, reality finally starting to sink in. "What's the worst?"

Tsunade's hand found his shoulder, squeezing gently. "Let's hope we don't have to find out."

The bell's toll echoed through the storage room like a death knell. Kakashi moved toward the door, his hand hovering over the handle. For a moment, he saw another scene superimposed over this one - another bright-spirited boy facing forces beyond his control, another time he'd been powerless to prevent what was coming.

I failed your father, Naruto. I won't fail you too.

But as he opened the door to the growing sounds of the gathered crowd, Kakashi wondered if some failures were written in the stars, predetermined by forces even the Copy Ninja couldn't outmaneuver.

The bell tolled again. It was time.

 

AN HOUR LATER…

The shadows felt different here than they had during the Chunin Exams. Back then, they'd been places of preparation, of nervous energy and determined focus. Now they felt like chains, Root ANBU materializing from them like silent judges, their blank masks offering no hint of humanity as they directed him with gestures rather than words.

Tsunade's departure left a void that the shadows eagerly filled. She had to leave, she said, to prepare their defense. Her absence felt like losing an anchor in a storm, and Naruto found himself desperately memorizing the sound of her footsteps until they faded completely. The waiting area that had once buzzed with the energy of young shinobi preparing for their matches now felt like a tomb, sterile and suffocating under the watchful eyes of his masked guards.

When they finally called him, his legs moved on their own, muscle memory carrying him through the familiar tunnel toward the arena's center. But where that walk had once been accompanied by the roar of an excited crowd, now there was only a silence so complete it seemed to have weight.

His footsteps echoed off stone walls that had witnessed both triumph and tragedy, now preparing to bear witness to something altogether different.

The podium at the arena's center stood like an island in a sea of judgment. As Naruto took his place, the morning sun seemed to single him out, a spotlight he couldn't escape. The noble families arrayed in the stands created a tapestry of power and privilege, their formal wear and clan symbols a stark contrast to his simple shinobi attire and bandaged hands.

His eyes found familiar faces among them, each one a fresh wound. Hinata, seated rigid beside her father, her eyes downcast but hands trembling slightly in her lap. Shikamaru, his usual lazy posture replaced by something more alert, more worried, as his father's hand rested heavily on his shoulder. Ino's father keeping her gaze forward when she tried to turn toward him. Each averted gaze, each controlled expression, felt like another brick in the wall being built between him and the life he'd known.

Above it all, Danzo and the council members sat like ancient judges, their elevated position symbolic of the power they held over his fate. The Root ANBU flanking them were somehow more threatening in their stillness than any enemy he'd faced in combat.

But behind him, separated by distance and protocol but present nonetheless, sat Tsunade. Her solitary figure in the Hokage's box carried its own kind of strength - defiant, protective, yet bound by the very office that gave her power. We're both alone, he realized, but somehow that makes us less alone together.

The bell's toll shattered the silence like a stone through glass. From the shadows emerged Ibiki Morino, his scarred face as unreadable as ever. But where once that stern countenance had tested Naruto's determination during the written exam, now it seemed to carry a different weight. This wasn't a test of will or ninja knowledge. This was something far more fundamental.

"The trial of Naruto Uzumaki," Ibiki's voice carried across the arena with practiced authority, "Jinchuriki of the Nine-Tailed Fox, regarding the threat posed to Konohagakure and the Land of Fire, will now commence."

Jinchuriki of the Nine-Tailed Fox.

Not genin of the Hidden Leaf. Not member of Team 7. Not even just Naruto.

The way Ibiki said it made his identity clear - in their eyes, he was the vessel first, person second. Everything else he'd worked to become, every bond he'd forged, every step he'd taken to prove himself more than just the demon's container... none of that seemed to matter now.

The sun continued its climb, indifferent to the drama unfolding beneath it. In its harsh light, Naruto stood alone on his podium, feeling every bit like the exhibit they were making of him. The silence returned, heavier than before, waiting to be filled with judgment.

The trial that would decide his future - and perhaps the future of Konoha itself - had just begun.

Danzo’s voice cut through the silence, like he wasn’t willing to allow any moment to linger.

"The facts are clear," Danzo continued, his voice carrying the practiced calm of someone who had been orchestrating this moment for days. "The Nine-Tails' chakra was detected as far as the capital itself. Our own sensors reported levels of demonic energy not felt since that night twelve years ago."

The morning light caught the edge of his cane as he gestured toward the gathered nobles. "Representatives from every major clan have submitted reports detailing the devastation. The Hyuga's own surveillance teams documented the spread of corrupted chakra through the region. Even our allies from the Sand expressed... concerns about the level of force displayed."

"Force that was necessary," Tsunade's words carried the sharp edge of barely contained fury, "to prevent Orochimaru from acquiring the Sharingan. To save a comrade who was being manipulated by a curse mark. Or have you forgotten your own intelligence reports about Sound's activities, Danzo?"

A ripple of whispers swept through the gathered nobles. Naruto watched as clan heads leaned close to each other, their formal robes rustling with each shared observation.

The politics playing out above his head felt as foreign as any enemy technique.

"Ah yes," Danzo's smile held no warmth, "the Curse Mark. Another failure of oversight, wouldn't you say? First, we lose control of the Nine-Tails' vessel, and then we nearly lose the last Uchiha. One might question the judgment that led to such... precarious situations."

"You dare question-" Tsunade started, but Koharu cut in smoothly.

"We question the pattern, Tsunade. The emotional attachment that seems to override tactical wisdom." Her weathered hands spread in a gesture that somehow managed to be both diplomatic and accusatory. "First, you risk the village's security by deploying jonin-level shinobi on border patrols, leaving us vulnerable-"

"After an invasion!" Tsunade's fist clenched at her side. "The village's security was paramount-"

"And yet," Homura interjected, "you then sent a team of genin, led by a chunin, on what should have been classified as an S-rank mission. Not just any genin, but ones with personal connections to the target. One of whom carries a power that, as we've seen, he cannot fully control."

The whispers grew louder. Naruto caught fragments of conversation from the noble families - concerns about property damage, about the political implications, about the safety of their own children. Each word felt like another weight added to his shoulders.

"The boy's power is not the issue," Danzo's voice cut through the murmurs. "It is the lack of control. The emotional volatility that turns that power into a threat."

Danzo’s single visible eye fixed on Tsunade.

"You speak of training, of mastery, yet what we witnessed at the Valley of the End suggests otherwise. Three tails, Lady Hokage. Three tails of pure demonic chakra, unleashed not against an enemy of the village, but against a fellow Konoha shinobi."

"A shinobi who was defecting," Tsunade countered, but Naruto could hear the strain in her voice. "Who was willing to kill his own teammate-"

"And this justifies unleashing a power that nearly killed them both?" Danzo's question hung in the air like poison. "That hospitalized not just the Uchiha, but members of noble clans who were simply trying to complete their mission? The Akimichi heir remains in critical condition. The Hyuga prodigy suffered chakra burns that could have ended his career. All because you allowed personal attachment to override proper protocol."

The sun seemed colder now as it streamed through the arena's open roof. Naruto's eyes moved through the crowd, searching for any sign of support, any hint of understanding. The Nara clan heads exchanged glances but remained silent. The Yamanaka elders kept their faces carefully neutral. Even the Akimichi clan, who had always been kind to him, now looked at him with barely concealed fear.

Is this what they were waiting for? he thought, the Fox's words echoing in his mind. For me to make one mistake, to give them a reason?

He wanted to speak, to defend himself, to explain that he'd had no choice - that Sasuke was going to leave, was going to throw everything away. But Tsunade's earlier warning echoed in his mind: Don't let them provoke an emotional response. That's exactly what they want.

His gaze found familiar faces in the crowd - teachers, classmates, people he'd thought were friends. They had seen him train, seen him grow, seen him fight to protect this village. But now they sat in silence while Danzo twisted everything he'd done into something ugly. The mission was successful, Sasuke was back, Orochimaru had been denied a powerful weapon - but all they could see were the costs, the risks, the potential for harm.

Where were their voices when Danzo questioned you? The Fox's words felt truer with each passing moment. When he twisted your sacrifice into something ugly?

The spotlight of judgment felt heavier now, weighted not just with the nobles' fears but with the silence of those he'd thought would stand beside him.

"The Daimyo's orders were clear," Homura added, his voice carrying the weight of political inevitability. "The situation requires... containment. Structure. The kind of oversight that prevents such incidents from recurring."

"You mean imprisonment," Tsunade's voice could have frozen fire. "You want to lock away a loyal shinobi of the Leaf because you're afraid of what he might become."

"No, Lady Hokage," Danzo's smile remained unchanged, but his eye gleamed with something like triumph.

"We want to ensure proper control over what he already is. The question is - will you let your personal feelings interfere with that duty as well?"

The silence that followed was deafening. In it, Naruto could hear everything that wasn't being said - the years of fear and mistrust, the political machinations that had been waiting for just such an opportunity, and the sound of his own future hanging by an increasingly fragile thread.

The trial had barely begun, but already he could feel the tide turning against him, carried by whispers and nods and carefully crafted fears.

Above him, Tsunade stood alone in her box, her presence both protective and somehow distant - a reminder that even the Hokage's power had its limits when faced with the machinery of politics and prejudice.

The morning sun continued its climb, indifferent to the drama unfolding beneath it, casting shadows that seemed to reach for Naruto like grasping fingers. The trial that would decide his future - and perhaps the future of Konoha itself - was only beginning, and already he could feel the weight of years of carefully cultivated fear pressing down on him like a physical force.

In that moment, standing alone on his podium while powers beyond his understanding decided his fate, Naruto understood something that would change him forever: Sometimes the hardest battles aren't fought with jutsu or chakra, but with words and fears and the careful manipulation of truth.

And in those battles, even the strongest heart can feel terrifyingly small.

 

AT THE SAME TIME…

Jiraiya's fingers traced the edge of a classified document, moonlight filtering through the high windows of the council chambers. The irony wasn't lost on him - here he was, one of the legendary Sannin, crouched in shadows like a common thief while his godson stood trial across the village. Some research this turned out to be, he thought wryly, remembering his interrupted writing session with a mixture of annoyance and guilt.

Through his connection with the toad in the arena, he could hear Danzo's carefully measured words washing over the noble families like poison. The amphibian's keen eyes caught every subtle shift in alliance - the way the Hyuga elders leaned forward with calculated interest, how the Akimichi clan head's face hardened at each mention of his son's injuries, the carefully neutral masks of the Yamanaka that couldn't quite hide their unease.

Politics was always Tsunade's game, he mused, sliding another drawer closed with practiced silence. I preferred simpler battlegrounds. Clearer enemies. But for Minato's son, he'd wade through these murky waters. For the boy who carried his student's legacy and his own hopes, he'd play whatever role was needed.

A whisper from the corridor outside froze him mid-motion. Two aides, their voices barely disturbing the air:

"The containment protocols are ready?"

"Yes. The activation seals just need - "

Their voices faded around a corner, leaving Jiraiya's mind racing with implications. Containment protocols? Activation seals? The terms clicked together like pieces of a puzzle he didn't want to complete.

Another fragment of conversation drifted through his toad's connection - Danzo speaking of "necessary measures" and "proper control."

The synchronicity of it all made his skin crawl. This wasn't just opportunism at work. This was something that had been waiting, planned, prepared.

He slipped deeper into the shadows as footsteps approached, his heart heavy with more than just the tension of potential discovery. Through his toad's eyes, he watched noble families nodding along to Danzo's rhetoric, their faces painted with the same careful concern he'd seen decades ago - when another young boy had been marked as both weapon and threat.

"The Fourth's choice," an aide's voice drifted from a nearby office, "using a child as a vessel... perhaps this is for the best."

Jiraiya's fists clenched at his sides. For the best?

He thought of Minato's hopes, of Naruto's determined grin, of promises made over bowls of ramen and dreams shared during training. No, he decided, his resolve hardening.

Not this time.

Not this child.

But as he moved through the shadows of power, searching for evidence of whatever trap had been laid, he couldn't shake the feeling that they were all playing catch-up in a game whose rules had been written long ago. A game where the pieces had been positioned with the patience of decades, waiting for just this moment to strike.

I should be at the hot springs, he thought, a hint of his usual humor masking deeper concerns. Or working on my next book. Instead... He paused as another group of aides passed, their whispered conversations carrying fragments about "absolute control" and "village safety."

Instead, he was here, playing spy in his own village as per Tsunade’s orders, while across Konoha, a boy who deserved so much better stood alone before the machinery of power and fear. A machinery that, he was beginning to suspect, had been calibrating itself for this moment since the day the Nine-Tails was sealed.

 

MINUTES LATER…

Kakashi materialized in the bleachers like a ghost, his arrival drawing only the subtlest shifts in attention from his fellow jonin. The familiar weight of his book provided convenient cover for observing both the proceedings below and the reactions of those around him. He’s finished providing instructions to Jiraiya, now it’s time to make his move.

Tsunade's final words in the storage room still echoed in his mind with uncomfortable clarity: "Watch everything. Everyone. The village will fracture after this - I need to know where the breaks will appear."

The morning air carried an edge that had nothing to do with temperature, heavy with unspoken alliances and carefully measured distances between old friends. Kakashi felt each subtle shift like a physical thing - the way shoulders tensed at his arrival, the microscopic adjustments in posture that spoke volumes about loyalty and fear.

"Late as usual, Kakashi?" Kurenai's whisper carried a sharpness that spoke of more than mere tardiness. Her crimson eyes stayed fixed on the arena floor, where Naruto stood alone in the harsh morning light.

"Maa, I got lost on the path of life," he offered his standard excuse, but his revealed eye caught every micro-expression, every subtle shift in his colleagues' postures.

Even here, he thought grimly, we're being watched. The question is - by whom? The weight of Tsunade's mission pressed against him like a physical thing - each observation, each categorization another piece in a puzzle that might determine Konoha's future.

Below, Danzo's voice carried across the arena with practiced precision.

"The pattern is clear," he gestured toward the gathered nobles, "From the Chunin Exam invasion to the recent destruction at the Valley of the End. Each incident demonstrates our failure to implement proper safeguards around such volatile power."

"He's building a narrative," Kurenai observed quietly, her analytical mind dissecting each word. "Connecting separate events into a story of institutional failure." Potential ally, Kakashi noted, appreciating how her genjutsu specialist's eye caught the subtle manipulations at play. Sharp enough to see the game, controlled enough to play it.

Guy's fist clenched at his side, his usual exuberance contained but barely. "The flames of youth cannot be contained by-"

"Not now, Guy," Asuma cut in, his cigarette conspicuously absent. His eyes carried the weight of political understanding that came from being the Third's son. "This isn't about youth or determination. This is about power. Control." The subtle shift in his posture spoke of years watching his father navigate these same political waters. Neutral, Kakashi assessed, but with deeper understanding than he shows. Could be crucial, if properly convinced.

"The seal-" Tsunade's voice rose from below, but Danzo's dismissive wave cut through her argument. Kakashi recognized the strategy in her apparent passion - not trying to win this battle, but laying groundwork for the war to come. This public spectacle was just that - spectacle. The real fight would happen in council chambers and midnight meetings, in whispered conversations and carefully arranged coincidences.

"What good is the most sophisticated seal," Danzo countered, "when the vessel lacks the discipline to maintain it? When emotional attachments override basic tactical judgment?" His eye swept the arena. "The Sound Four, while formidable, should not have required such... desperate measures to overcome."

Beside Kakashi, Iruka's hands trembled slightly. "He's just a boy," he whispered, more to himself than anyone. "He was just trying to save his friend..." Strong ally, Kakashi noted, but one whose emotions will need careful direction. That kind of loyalty, properly channeled...

"The strategy itself was flawed," Danzo continued, his words falling like senbon. "Splitting our forces, allowing genin to engage jonin-level threats individually? Placing a newly promoted chunin in command of such a critical mission?"

From their elevated position, Kakashi saw Shikamaru's shoulders tense, saw the way Shikaku's hand tightened on his son's shoulder. The morning light caught the subtle interplay of power and protection in that gesture - a father's instinct warring with clan politics.

"Hyuga clan politics will shift after this," Kurenai murmured, her eyes on her student's family. "They've been looking for an excuse to reinforce traditional power structures." The weight of her observation carried years of watching her own student navigate the delicate balance between duty and change. Another piece for Tsunade, Kakashi noted, the fractures are already appearing.

"The whole village will shift," Asuma replied, his voice carrying years of political observation. "Father always said Danzo was patient. He's been waiting for a moment like this since the Nine-Tails was sealed." His fingers twitched for an absent cigarette, each suppressed gesture speaking volumes about controlled tension. The Third's son would know, Kakashi thought. He watched this dance from the shadows of power.

Anko's laugh was bitter, barely audible. "Funny how my old teacher's actions always seem to play into someone else's plans." Her hand unconsciously touched her curse mark, the gesture heavy with unspoken understanding. "Maybe some of us were always meant to be other people's weapons." Potential ally, Kakashi categorized, if her personal wounds can be turned to purpose.

The morning air grew heavier with each exchange between Danzo and Tsunade, their words carrying undercurrents that rippled through the gathered jonin like invisible waves. Kakashi's eye curved in his practiced smile, but his mind raced through implications and possibilities.

Every reaction around him told its own story - from Guy's barely contained protective instincts to Kurenai's sharp political awareness. Each would need to be evaluated, categorized: ally, neutral, or potential threat.

"The Nine-Tails requires structure," Danzo's voice cut through their whispered analysis. "Proper training. Proper oversight. Not this experiment in treating it as an ordinary genin, allowing emotional attachments to compromise village security."

"His name," Iruka's whisper carried unexpected steel, "is Naruto." The truth in those three words carried more weight than all of Danzo's careful rhetoric.

Tsunade stood alone in her box, a solitary figure against the gathering storm. But Kakashi recognized the strategy in her apparent isolation - not fighting to win this battle, but positioning pieces for the war to come. She knows, he thought, watching her calculated responses. This isn't about saving Naruto today. It's about having enough allies left to save him tomorrow.

The whispers among the jonin grew more urgent, a current of shared fears and fragile loyalties. Kakashi caught fragments of intelligence, of implications, of personal concerns that would shape the coming struggles. Each piece added to the puzzle he'd been assembling since receiving Tsunade's orders - a map of allegiances that would prove crucial when the public spectacle ended and the real battles began.

Some of them I can trust, he thought, watching his colleagues' reactions. Others... His eye caught movement in the shadows above - Root ANBU, barely visible, recording every word, every reaction. Others might not have a choice in whose side they take.

The trial continued below, but the real battle was being fought in whispers and glances, in political currents that ran deeper than any ninja technique. And Kakashi, master of a thousand jutsu, found himself facing an enemy that no Sharingan could copy - the careful manipulation of fear and power that threatened to reshape not just Naruto's future, but the future of Konoha itself.

Watch everything. Everyone. Tsunade's orders echoed in his mind as he cataloged each reaction, each potential ally and hidden threat. Because when this storm broke - and it would break - the difference between victory and defeat would lie not in jutsu or chakra, but in knowing exactly who would weather it beside them.

A small brown toad, barely noticeable among the shadows of the bleachers, caught his attention. The creature's eyes held an unnaturally keen intelligence as they swept across the gathered nobles. So, Kakashi thought, noting how the amphibian's gaze lingered on certain family crests, Jiraiya-sama is already moving his pieces.

The real battle was being fought not just here in whispers and glances, but in shadows far from this arena. As Root ANBU ghosted through the upper levels like dark thoughts, Kakashi wondered what other eyes might be watching - what other pieces were being moved on this complex political board.

Some distances away, in the labyrinthine corridors of the Hokage Tower, a different kind of observation was taking place. One that might determine not just the outcome of this trial, but the future of Konoha itself.

 

AT THE SAME TIME…

The underground levels of the Hokage Tower felt like a separate world - a realm where even shadows held secrets, where the very air seemed weighted with decades of carefully guarded power. Jiraiya moved through these forbidden corridors with the grace of someone who'd spent a lifetime dancing between danger and necessity, each step measured against the soft echo of distant patrol routes.

Danzo's domain, he thought, noting how even the architecture felt different here - more angular, more purposeful, as if the very walls had been designed to intimidate. Through his connection with the toad in the arena, he could still hear the political theater playing out above ground, each carefully measured word from Danzo feeling more significant now that he walked through the physical manifestation of that power.

Water trickled somewhere in the darkness, the sound carrying memories of other infiltrations, other secrets. But this was different. This wasn't some foreign stronghold or enemy territory. This was the heart of Konoha itself, or at least the shadow that heart cast - the place where necessity and protection twisted into something harder, colder.

I'm getting too old for this, he mused, pressing himself into an alcove as another patrol passed. Their movements carried Root's signature precision - not quite human, not quite machine, but something in between.

Through his toad's eyes, he caught glimpses of noble families nodding along to Danzo's rhetoric above, and wondered how many of them knew about this labyrinth beneath their feet, this carefully maintained machinery of control.

Danzo's office, when he found it, felt like entering the lair of some ancient creature - not through any obvious display of power, but through the careful absence of it. Everything too precise, too measured, as if each object had been placed to tell exactly the story its master wanted told.

The approaching footsteps sent him deeper into shadow, his breath controlled to absolute silence. The Root operative's entrance was a study in efficient movement - no wasted motion, no hint of personality. The folders landed on the desk with mechanical precision.

"Is it prepared?" The question from the corridor barely disturbed the air.

"Yes. The destruction sequence is ready. Danzo-sama has the activation seal. The documents will be destroyed immediately at his convenience."

Jiraiya's jaw tightened. Even here, in the heart of his power, Danzo maintained his careful dance of revelation and erasure. How many other secrets had disappeared into carefully controlled fire, leaving nothing but the ash of suspicion?

Danzo held the activation seal, which means the documents are only destructible on his instruction. Jiraiya almost wanted to thank Danzo’s precision - this oversight meant he can read the files and not risk detection.

When solitude returned, Jiraiya dove into the container, with each document told its own story of power and control - mission reports disguised as village security, surveillance masked as protection.

But it was the single file, distinct in its deliberate ordinariness, that made his blood run cold.

The underground corridors seemed to press closer, heavy with the weight of what he'd discovered. Above, through his toad's connection, he could see Naruto standing alone in harsh sunlight, unaware that this trial was just the final movement in a symphony of control that had been composing itself since the day of his birth.

As he slipped back through Danzo's domain, each shadow felt like an accusation, each patrol route a reminder that sometimes the most dangerous prisons aren't the ones with bars, but the ones built from carefully crafted fears and promises of protection.

And somewhere above, in an arena full of noble anxiety and political theater, the machinery of that prison was grinding inexorably toward its purpose.

This is what you feared, isn't it, Minato? he thought, reading words that felt like prophecy.

This is why you wanted him to be seen as a hero.

Time was running out.

 

HOURS LATER…

The arena's vastness pressed against Naruto like a physical weight, each word from above falling like stones into the still pond of his consciousness. He found himself absorbing every detail with an intensity that surprised him - not the usual blur of technical jargon and political speech, but sharp, crystal-clear moments that cut straight to his core.

His eyes sought comfort in familiar faces, searching the crowd like a drowning man looking for driftwood. Each averted gaze, each carefully controlled expression felt like another small betrayal. Only Hinata's presence offered any warmth, her gentle eyes carrying a strength he desperately needed. When his gaze found Sakura, the pity there made his chest ache - neither forgiveness nor condemnation, but something more complicated, more painful.

Was this how the villagers always saw me? The thought rose unbidden as Danzo and Tsunade's voices faded into white noise. Just a weapon to be aimed? A monster to be caged?

The sudden silence jolted him back to awareness. Ibiki's announcement of deliberation felt hollow, empty - a pretense shattered by Danzo's immediate response. The decision, it seemed, had been made long before he'd ever stepped into this arena.

"What was all this for then?" Tsunade's voice carried the edge of barely contained fury, but underneath it, Naruto heard something that frightened him more - fear.

Danzo's response cut through the morning air like a blade through silk:

"We had hoped, Hokage-sama, that you might provide more convincing arguments for the boy's... current status. But it seems more definitive measures are required."

Danzo's voice carried through the arena with clinical precision, each word falling like perfectly aimed senbon.

"The verdict of the council is thus: Subject Uzumaki Naruto will undergo comprehensive psychological reconditioning, as outlined in Protocol Seven of the Jinchuriki Containment Measures."

The words hit Naruto like physical blows, each syllable stripping away another layer of his identity.

Subject?

The verdict fell like hammer blows, each pause filled with the collective intake of breath from the gathered crowd.

Tsunade didn’t react, as though looking into all those documents she’s read through the years and trying her damndest to remember what piece of paper laid the plan that sealed Naruto’s fate.

Then it hit her. Tsunade’s eyes widened in horror.

"The procedure consists of three phases," Danzo continued, his cane tapping against the floor with metronomic finality.

"First, a specialized Genjutsu matrix will be applied to create foundational command pathways in the subject's consciousness. These pathways will ensure absolute compliance with village directives."

The morning air felt suddenly thin, inadequate. Naruto's hands trembled at his sides as he processed the clinical dismantling of his free will. His eyes darted desperately from face to face in the crowd - teachers who had praised his determination, friends who had fought beside him, families who had welcomed him into their homes.

But they all sat in silence as Danzo continued his proclamation. Some looked away, unable to meet his gaze. Others maintained carefully neutral expressions, as if they were discussing weather rather than the erasure of someone's identity. Even those who seemed uncomfortable made no move to speak, to object, to show any sign that this was wrong.

Conditioning. Control. Subservience. The words washed over Naruto like ice water, each one stripping away another layer of the identity he'd fought so hard to build. But what cut deeper than Danzo's words was the collective silence that followed them - the tacit approval of everyone present.

They're really going to let this happen, he realized, the truth hitting him like a physical blow. These people who had watched him grow, who had acknowledged his dreams, who had called him friend and comrade - they would sit and watch as he was turned into nothing more than a weapon to be controlled.

Each word from Danzo felt like another nail in his coffin, but it was their silence that was burying him alive.

"Second, activation and deactivation protocols will be implemented. The subject will enter a state of suspended consciousness between missions, awakening only when specific command phrases are utilized by authorized handlers."

Suspended consciousness. The words echoed in Naruto's mind like bells at a funeral. They want to make me sleep. Make me disappear when they don't need their weapon.

Psychological implants. Special commands. Deep slumber.

Naruto’s mind struggled to process the clinical brutality of it all. This wasn't just punishment - this was erasure. The systematic dismantling of everything that made him him.

"Upon the recovery of Uchiha Sasuke," Danzo's eye gleamed with something like satisfaction, "he will undergo specialized training to serve as the subject's primary handler. His Sharingan makes him uniquely qualified to suppress both the subject and the Nine-Tails should either prove... problematic."

The bitter irony of it all made Naruto's chest ache. It was the mention of Sasuke that finally broke through his shocked stupor. His friend, his rival, transformed into his handler - his potential executioner. The bitter irony of it tasted like ash in his mouth.

How is this fair? The thought burned through him like acid. Sasuke had been the one who tried to defect, who had been willing to betray everything for power. Yet somehow, he was being rewarded. While Naruto, who had fought to bring him back, who had remained loyal despite everything, was going to lose his very self.

Even trying to save him led to this, he thought, remembering their desperate battle at the Valley of the End. And now, after everything, Sasuke would be the one holding his leash?

The one trained to control him, to put him down if necessary? The same Sasuke who had been ready to abandon the village was now being trusted with this power?

Maybe especially because of that, he realized with growing bitterness.

The Uchiha name still carried weight, still commanded respect even after attempted desertion. While Naruto, no matter what he did, would always be seen as the vessel first - a weapon to be controlled, a threat to be contained.

The injustice of it all made his hands shake. He had tried so hard to save his friend, and this was his reward - to become nothing more than a tool for that same friend to command.

"This measure," Danzo's voice rose to command the arena, no longer just addressing the council but proclaiming to all of Konoha, "ensures that we will never again face the threat of an uncontrolled Jinchuriki. The Nine-Tails will finally serve its proper purpose - as a carefully managed asset for the village's protection."

"You can't -" Tsunade's voice cracked through the morning air, but Danzo continued as if she hadn't spoken.

"This information is to remain strictly within village bounds." His single eye swept the gathered crowd with quiet menace. "ANBU operatives will maintain enhanced security protocols during the transition period. Any attempt to disseminate these details to outside entities will be... addressed."

"The Hokage office does not -" Tsunade tried again, her words carrying the edge of desperate authority.

"The Hokage office," Danzo cut through her protest like a blade through silk, "has demonstrated its inability to properly manage this situation. The council's decision is final."

Naruto's eyes moved through the crowd like a drowning man searching for a lifeline, desperately seeking anyone willing to do more than just show horror at his fate. Each familiar face told its own story, but none showed the courage to stand - Iruka-sensei's hands clenched white-knuckled in his lap, tears gathering in eyes that had always held warmth for him. But tears weren't enough, were they? Where was the fierce protector who had once taken a giant shuriken for him?

Guy-sensei's usually boundless energy was frozen in a mask of disbelief, his trademark smile shattered. All that talk about the power of youth and never giving up, yet here he sat, giving up on Naruto. Kurenai's analytical façade cracked under the weight of understanding, but understanding without action was just another form of surrender.

His classmates' reactions cut deeper - Shikamaru's calculated neutrality failing to hide his clenched jaw, but what good was all that strategic genius if he wouldn't use it now? Hinata's hands pressed against her mouth to stifle a sob, Kiba's feral growl of protest dying in his throat. Even Sakura's earlier pity had transformed into something closer to horror, her green eyes wide with the realization of what was being done in the name of village security. But none of them moved. None of them spoke. None of them fought.

Tsunade's voice rose again, something about rights and procedures, but it felt hollow, weak. She was the Hokage, wasn't she? The strongest ninja in the village? She could fight Danzo right here, right now - but she chose to hide behind procedure and protocol instead. Her words felt distant now, secondary to the void growing in Naruto's chest where his dreams used to live. Where his trust in these people used to live.

Danzo's responses faded into white noise, the political theater becoming meaningless in the face of his new reality - a reality where everyone who had ever claimed to care about him would watch in silence as he was stripped of everything that made him who he was.

The Fox's words echoed in his mind: There's always a choice.

And they had all made theirs.

"Enjoy the sky," Danzo's words carried the finality of a coffin lid closing. "Consider it a final gift before your... rehabilitation begins."

Naruto looked up at that vast blue expanse, so different from the arena's oppressive atmosphere. He thought of all the times he'd watched clouds with Shikamaru, trained under this same sky with his team, dreamed of becoming Hokage beneath its infinite possibility. Now it felt like saying goodbye to an old friend he'd never see again.

Is this what it means to be a shinobi? he wondered, feeling the weight of Root ANBU materializing around him like physical shadows. To give up everything you are for the village? Or is this something else - something darker?

The realization hit Naruto like water from a bucket.

Maybe… I shouldn’t think of myself as a Konoha-nin anymore.

The morning sun continued its climb, indifferent to the death of dreams happening beneath it. And Naruto, who had faced demons and defied destiny, felt something inside him grow very quiet, very still - like a bird realizing its cage had always been there, waiting.

Just darkness, and commands, and the slow erasure of everything that made him Naruto Uzumaki.

End.

Dark and morbid.

Not exactly my favorite way to end the chaper.

But I do have good news, things will finally turn around for Naruto in the next chapter.

More Chapters are posted on my patreon Feel free to check it out lads, here's the link

https://www.patreon.com/c/Demon_Knight939

 

Now I don’t want to spoil anything more than I already have, so I’ll let you all go.

See you all on the next update!

Chapter 3: chapter 3

Hi guys.

I don’t want to spoil anything for this chapter.

So I’m going to let you enjoy the suspense!

Start:

THREE DAYS LATER…

The Nine-Tails was quiet today. After three nights of bitter arguments in the depths of his mindscape - perhaps drawn out by Naruto's isolation, by his desperate need for any kind of interaction, even with the demon inside him - the silence felt heavy with unspoken words.

Each night in his dreams, he'd found himself wading through that sea of boiling red water, drawn inexorably to those massive bars. Maybe it was the solitude of his cell that made the Fox more talkative, or maybe, strangely, it actually cared what happened to its vessel.

"They'll come," Naruto had whispered last night, staring up at those ancient eyes. "Someone will realize this is wrong. Granny Tsunade, or Kakashi-sensei, or..."

The Fox's laugh had been softer than usual, almost pitying.

"Still clinging to that hope, kid? Even after they all stood there and watched?"

"They didn't have a choice! The council - "

"Enough." The Fox's tails had swished with irritation. "Your last thoughts in freedom shouldn't be about them. I've watched you for years, you know. Those pranks you pulled, the way you fought back against their contempt - that was worth watching. Even those few times you let my power flow freely..."

A grin spread across its massive face.

"But this? Waiting for rescue from the same people who abandoned you? It's pathetic."

"They didn't abandon - "

"They stood and watched, kid. Every single one of them. And now you're going to waste your final hours of free will wondering if they'll save you?" The Fox's eyes had narrowed, but not with malice.

"Do yourself a favor. Think about yourself for once, instead of a village that never truly wanted you."

But today, on this third day of imprisonment, the Fox was silent. No taunts, no bitter truths, no rumbling commentary on human nature. Just the soft clink of chains and the thin blade of light that cut through the small window slit.

Perhaps even the Nine-Tails had grown tired of watching its vessel cling to bonds that had already been broken.

Naruto's hand absently traced the shackles around his wrists, memories flooding back with brutal clarity. The trial had been a formality, really - everyone had seen what happened at the Valley of the End.

Three tails of caustic chakra, the destruction visible for miles, the way he'd lost himself in the desperate need to bring Sasuke back. To keep his promise.

He remembered Tsunade just standing there, her protests weak and formal - nothing like the fierce defender he thought she was. Her voice had barely risen above the whispers, her arguments falling flat against Danzo's cold proclamations. The Hokage, the strongest in the village, had simply watched as Root ANBU materialized around him. She could have stopped them. She could have fought. Instead, she just stood there, distant and unreachable, as something sharp struck the back of his neck and the world went dark.

Sakura's face in that final moment haunted him - not for the remorse in her green eyes, but for the way she just stood there, like everyone else. After begging him to bring Sasuke back, after making him promise, she'd watched in silence as they prepared to strip away his will. Her horror seemed hollow now, her guilt meaningless.

She'd made him promise to save Sasuke, but who was going to save him?

The Fox was right, he thought bitterly. They'd all just... watched. The strongest kunoichi in the world, his teammates, his teachers - they'd all found reasons to stay silent, to look away, to let it happen. Their apparent regret meant nothing when none of them had been willing to actually stop it.

That final moment before darkness took him had shown him the truth: in the end, he was still alone. Just like he'd always been.

The thin shaft of sunlight caught dust motes dancing in the air, making them look like tiny stars in the cell's perpetual twilight. When he pressed his face close to the window slit, all he could see were leaves dancing in a wind he couldn't feel. Trees that could have been anywhere in Konoha, offering no clue to his location.

The first bell's toll echoed through whatever facility held him, followed by the soft scrape of the floor panel sliding open. Breakfast arrived on its usual tray, but the sight of food made his stomach turn. The smell of miso soup - probably meant as a kindness - only reminded him of mornings at Ichiraku's, of friendly faces and casual conversations that now felt like memories from someone else's life.

Today, he thought, watching steam rise from the bowl like ghosts in the dim light. Today is my last day as... me. The thought felt hollow, bitter. How was he even supposed to spend these final hours of freedom? Sitting in a dark cell, replaying memories of people who hadn't cared enough to fight for him?

What was he supposed to do with this "gift" of one last day as himself? Count the cracks in the walls? Remember all the times he'd fought to protect a village that had so easily agreed to strip away his will? Think about friends who'd turned their backs when he needed them most?

Tomorrow would bring whatever "procedure" Danzo had planned to fruition. The process of turning Uzumaki Naruto into something else would begin: a weapon, a tool, and, in Danzo's words, a "carefully managed asset." But today - his supposed last day of freedom - felt like just another form of torture. Trapped in a cell, waiting for the inevitable, with nothing but betrayal and abandonment to keep him company.

Some final day of freedom this was. Even prisoners on death row probably got better treatment than this - at least they got to see the sky one last time. But him? He got a bowl of cold soup and the echoing silence of a village's collective betrayal.

A commotion outside his cell caught Naruto's attention - the soft whisper of movement, the barely audible sound of impacts, then dull thuds against the floor. His heart racing, he pressed his ear against the cold steel door, straining to hear what was happening.

A familiar "ribbit" made his eyes widen.

The door suddenly swung open, catching him off balance. Naruto tumbled forward, chains clanking, and found himself staring up at a tall figure silhouetted in the doorway. White hair pulled back in a spiky ponytail caught the dim light, and a ceramic frog mask covered the figure's face - though not for long.

"J-Jiraiya-sensei?" Naruto whispered in disbelief as the man lifted his mask.

The Sannin's usual jovial expression was replaced by something harder, more focused. Without a word, he tossed an unconscious ANBU agent onto the floor beside Naruto. "Find the keys," he ordered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Change into his uniform. Quickly."

"What's happening?" Naruto's hands trembled as he searched the fallen agent's pockets. "What are you-"

"What does it look like, kid?" Jiraiya's eyes never stopped scanning the corridor. "I'm getting you out of here."

The soup grew cold on its tray, forgotten, as the morning sun continued its steady climb - no longer marking time until Naruto's end, but perhaps, just perhaps, counting the moments until his escape.

 

TWO DAYS AGO…

"Another losing bet, Tsunade-hime!" Jiraiya's laughter cut through the private room at Ichiraku's. Kakashi watched the elaborate dance of hidden meanings unfold, his trained eye finally piecing together the code embedded in their gambling session.

Through subtle hand positions over cards, chip placements, and carefully timed bets, Tsunade had conveyed her plan to Kakashi - a mission that could never exist on paper. But Jiraiya's laugh interrupted before Kakashi could respond.

Kakashi was no stranger to hidden messages. This was one of the most essential lessons even a genin would have to learn at the academy, and potentially even apply in the written segment of the Chunin Exams. Ninja had to learn to put things code just as well as they can decode them, to pick up on things that could become the basis of ciphers. In Kakashi’s ANBU training, this expanded into using the environment to convey messages. Beyond mere slippings of paper en passing or rocks marking a drop were lessons to put code in live conversations.

It made sense for the two Sannin to take extra precaution in their meeting, to meet in a private room with no prying eyes but to still assume Danzo had Root members watching them anyway. Their dialogue seem to be mere musings of their day-to-day lives, with the occasional mention of their distaste towards Danzo and the Council, their evident suspicion towards Root, and how “unfair” Naruto’s situation was. Tsunade wanted these to be the messages to reach Danzo.

Beneath their musings amid bets and calls and folds was another conversation entirely.

"This isn't the captain's cross to bear," Jiraiya implied through a seemingly careless shuffle of cards, with each movement of fingers and how they landed on the table conveying a word or an expression. "The shadows need someone who can vanish completely."

"The council chose you first," Tsunade conveyed through chip movements and her finger placements. "If Danzo moves-"

"Politics was never my game, Tsunade," Jiraiya countered, his theatrical drunkenness masking the precision of his card arrangements. "The captain's more valuable here, in the village's shadows. Too many eyes watch a Sannin's movements."

Kakashi studied their exchange with growing admiration. Just hours ago, he'd escorted Tsunade through Konoha's streets, watching her count money with Shizune in what appeared to be her usual afternoon gambling routine. The whispers had followed them - shock at seeing the Hokage so casual after her passionate defense of Naruto had failed, mixed reactions about her apparent acceptance of the council's decision.

"She didn't even file an appeal," he'd heard one villager murmur.

"At least she's loyal enough to accept the council's wisdom," another had responded.

But here, in this private room with transformed toads maintaining perfect human disguises as their "gambling companions," Kakashi saw the true depth of Tsunade's political acumen. She'd heard every whisper, noted every judgment, and used their expectations to craft the perfect cover for what was really happening.

The gambling session continued, each move carrying double meaning, each casual comment part of a larger plan. To any observer - including the Root agents undoubtedly watching - they were seeing exactly what they expected: two legendary Sannin indulging their vices while the famous Copy Ninja kept his usual aloof watch.

Tsunade's hands moved carefully over her cards as her chips painted hern ext statements. "The consequences..." she implied through a calculated bet, letting the weight of failure hang in the air.

"If those were your orders, Hokage-sama," Kakashi said quietly, understanding flowing beneath the gambling metaphors. "For my student..."

"And then what?" Jiraiya's laugh carried an edge as he rearranged his cards in a pattern that conveyed the message. "The Copy Ninja becomes a permanent fugitive? Every village already wants your head, Kakashi. Only Konoha's protection keeps their hunters at bay."

"He can handle himself," Tsunade's chip placement was swift, as was her retort. "I'll be Danzo's first target. That's why you need to stay - the council's alternative candidate."

Jiraiya's sake cup never quite reached his lips as he laid down cards stating his next message. "Our history complicates things."

"What's the alternative?" Tsunade's next move outlined time her statement. "Let him lose everything he is inside these walls, or give him a chance beyond them?"

"At least let the boy live," Jiraiya countered, his theatrical drunkenness masking the precision of his movements.

Tsunade's hands stilled over her cards. Through careful gestures and calculated bets, she reminded him of what he'd discovered - documents detailing containment protocols developed since the Fourth's death, plans laid before Naruto could even walk.

"If this succeeds," her chip placement suggested darker possibilities, "what's to stop Danzo from expanding the program? Other villages, other Jinchuriki..."

Jiraiya laid down another card, its position suggesting alternate routes. "Think about what we're planning here. This isn't just about saving one boy. This is about giving Naruto a future."

"You should stop daydreaming and consider the only two viable options here: Naruto becomes a weapon under Danzo’s control, or he retains his free will as a fugitive," Tsunade's chip placement outlined the sternness of her remark. "Danzo's been waiting for this opening since the sealing. These containment protocols were ready before Naruto could even speak."

"The timing's too perfect," Jiraiya's theatrical sway masked the precision of his words. "The Valley incident, the noble families' fear, the Daimyo's sudden interest..."

"Like pieces arranged on a board," Tsunade suggested through a calculated bet. "Waiting for the right moment."

Kakashi watched their coded exchange, noting how Jiraiya's "drunken" gestures mapped out his next statement. "If the containment method works on Naruto..."

"Every village with a Jinchuriki becomes a potential target," Tsunade's cards fell in a pattern suggesting her next words. "All under the banner of protecting Konoha."

"The invasion," Jiraiya mused, rearranging his chips. "Convenient how the attack pulled our jonin away. Left us relying on genin."

"Creating the perfect conditions," Tsunade implied through her next play. "For Naruto to lose control."

"And now Danzo has his precedent," Jiraiya's laugh carried no humor. "His justification for everything that follows."

The transformed toads maintained their human disguises perfectly, adding to the illusion of a simple gambling night. But beneath the casual banter and clinking cups, plans were being made that could reshape the balance of power across all hidden villages.

"So what's it to be?" Tsunade's final chip placement asked the question they'd been dancing around. "Who takes the burden? Who carries the cross?"

The implication hung heavy in the air, masked by the clinking of sake cups and the shuffling of cards. Through the window, Root agents watched what they expected to see. None of them suspected that the fate of all Jinchuriki might hinge on this seemingly innocent game of cards.

 

THE PRESENT, MINUTES LATER…

Jiraiya scratched the back of his head, glancing behind him for the hundredth time to ensure Naruto kept pace. The abandoned prison outpost loomed around them, its corridors telling stories of the last Great Ninja War through cracked walls and faded warning signs. The air carried the musty scent of decades-old conflict, mixed with the sterile precision Danzo had imposed on the facility.

Trust him to turn a war relic into his personal fortress, Jiraiya thought, recalling Kakashi's detailed briefing.

"Left here," he whispered, guiding them through another turn. The ANBU uniform hung awkwardly on Naruto's frame - too loose in some places, too tight in others. But it served its purpose better than prison garb, and at least the mask hid the boy's distinctive whisker marks.

Following the mental map from the containment protocols Tsunade had secured, Jiraiya led them deeper into the facility. Each step had to be measured, precise - Root agents moved with an artificial perfection that took years to master.

Storage should be around here, past the third checkpoint...

A lone Root operative stood guard at the inventory room, his mask reflecting the dim corridor lighting as he offered a curt nod. Jiraiya returned it with practiced precision, but Naruto's hesitation - that slight pause before an awkward attempt at mimicry - made the guard's posture shift subtly.

It was barely noticeable, just a slight tensing of shoulders, a minute adjustment of stance, but to Jiraiya's trained eye, it might as well have been a shout of alarm.

Before the Root agent could reach for his weapon, Jiraiya's strike found the precise point at the base of his skull.

"Get your things," he whispered, efficiently stuffing the unconscious body into an empty cabinet. "And next time, try to remember Root agents nod like they've got sticks up their - "

"Oh, I'm sorry," Naruto hissed back, already rummaging through stored items with barely contained frustration. "Maybe you should try being locked up because people want to reprogram your brain. See how well you follow orders then."

Jiraiya paused, one hand still on the cabinet door, the irony of his command hitting him. Here he was, telling the kid to act more like the very people who'd planned to strip away his free will.

And yet, the way Naruto retorted back didn’t seem filled with humor. It felt weighted. And bitter.

"Fair point, kid," he conceded with a slight smirk behind his frog mask.

"Now shut up and find your clothes before someone else comes along."

Through the mask, he could practically feel Naruto's glare, and something in his chest loosened slightly. That spark of defiance, that unwillingness to simply comply - it meant they hadn't broken him yet.

Some things, at least, hadn't changed.

Just a little longer, he thought, keeping watch at the door. Just hold onto that spirit a little longer, kid. We're getting you out of here.

Jiraiya left Naruto rummaging through the boxes in the room to find his belongings. The Sannin remembered this was where inventory was kept for the belongings of prisoners in the Great Ninja War, and it made perfect sense for the room to be kept for this very purpose. While his student searched for his things, he recalled the details of their plan.

Jiraiya was not one for these high-intensity covert missions, especially at this age. He preferred the thrill of social missions, where he had to get in the good graces of targets as he stole information or got access to them. These stealth missions, he recalled, were more of Orochimaru’s style.

"Border's about two kilometers east," Jiraiya muttered, mentally mapping their escape route. The forest would provide cover, if they could avoid drawing attention. Root's patrols were precise - they had maybe ten minutes before someone noticed the missing guard.

"What's taking so -" he turned to find Naruto frozen before an open box, a piece of paper trembling in his hands. The backpack beside him already held his orange jacket, but something had stopped him from changing out of the ill-fitting ANBU uniform.

"We're on a timer here, kid," Jiraiya started, then saw what filled the box. Letters. Dozens of them, in varying states of care - some meticulously folded, others hastily stuffed into envelopes. All intercepted. All kept from their target.

Naruto stood motionless, the letter trembling in his hands. Through the frog mask at his side, Jiraiya caught glimpses of Sakura's careful handwriting:

"...I was wrong to blame you. When I asked you to bring him back, I never thought... The way they're treating you now, it's not right. Naruto, I'm so sorry..."

More letters spilled from the box - some bearing the Hyuga clan's seal, others with Shikamaru's lazy scrawl, even one with the Akimichi family crest despite Choji's condition. Each one a lifeline that had been deliberately cut.

"Those bastards," Jiraiya's fists clenched tight enough to crack his mask's porcelain edges. This wasn't just protocol - this was methodical destruction.

Every unopened letter represented another bond they'd planned to sever, another precious person deemed irrelevant to their weapon's function. They'd planned to isolate him completely before beginning their conditioning ensuring their tool would have no connections to complicate its purpose. Naruto had to feel alone for his subconscious to give way to the conditioning commands.

Jiraiya felt sick, this was exactly the principles of genjutsu scientifically twisted to fit Danzo’s machinations.

"Grab them," he said, his voice carrying an urgency tempered by understanding. Even in this desperate moment, he couldn't bring himself to deny the kid these precious words. "Read them later. ANBU patrol's -"

The sound of approaching footsteps cut through his warning. Perfect rhythm, mechanical precision - Root's signature cadence. Jiraiya pulled Naruto into the shadows, masks snapping back into place just as two agents entered.

Their movements were fluid, practiced - scanning the room with the efficiency of machines rather than men. But they never had a chance to report what they found. Jiraiya's strike found the first agent's pressure point while Naruto, showing unexpected stealth, took down the second with a precise chop to the neck.

And with methodical precision, Naruto and Jiraiya began laying out the unconscious ANBU on the floor after tying them up.

Then the alarms began.

Jiraiya completely forgot that the ANBU patrol likely reported back whenever they scanned a location. The men that caught them were the checkers. If they hadn’t responded to a warning check as per orders, then the facility is compromised.

They’ve been made.

"This way!" Jiraiya grabbed Naruto's arm, mind racing through the facility's layout. "Move!"

The corridors blurred past as they ran, red lights painting everything in blood-like hues. Third turn right, second left, then the maintenance tunnel, Jiraiya recited mentally. Please let this be the right way.

Behind them, more footsteps joined the chaos. Their time was running out.

 

ONE DAY AGO…

Kakashi found Jiraiya at the abandoned training ground, the pre-dawn light casting long shadows across withered grass. The spot held memories now - their first meeting after the debriefing, when the weight of what was happening had just begun to settle.

"You can still reconsider," Kakashi said quietly, watching a night bird take flight. "Your position in the village, your history with the council-"

"I've never cared much for positions," Jiraiya interrupted, leaning against the old oak tree. His usual boisterous demeanor was subdued, though a shadow of his characteristic grin appeared. "Besides, think of the story this'll make. 'The Gallant Jiraiya's Greatest Adventure' - has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

Kakashi's visible eye curved slightly at the attempt at levity, but his mind was elsewhere, replaying every decision, every mistake. I failed them both. Sasuke lying in a hospital bed, Naruto facing erasure... Some teacher I turned out to be.

"Stop that," Jiraiya's voice cut through his spiral of self-recrimination. "You did what you could for both of them."

Kakashi started, surprised at being read so easily. Had his carefully maintained mask of indifference grown so transparent? Or had Jiraiya simply become better at seeing through it?

"The Third gave you an impossible task with Team Seven," Jiraiya continued, his eyes on the lightening sky.

"A boy ostracized for what he carries within him, treated as a vessel rather than a child. Another whose entire identity has become so wrapped in vengeance that he can't see anything else." He shook his head slowly. "Sarutobi-sensei probably thought it would help you open up emotionally, force you to confront your own past through them."

Kakashi remained silent, the words hitting closer to home than he wanted to admit. The lonely child desperately seeking acknowledgment, the survivor consumed by loss and revenge - he'd lived both those roles, worn both those masks.

"But he also knew," Jiraiya's voice softened, "that you were the only one who could truly understand them both. Who could see past what they carried to who they were trying to become."

"Unfortunately," his tone grew serious, all trace of humor vanishing, "this has become bigger than either of us. Our meetings with Tsunade made that clear enough." He turned to face Kakashi fully.

"As teachers, we have to become more than just mentors now. We have to become protectors - even if it means protecting them from their own village."

Kakashi let the words settle in the pre-dawn air. His years of ANBU training had taught him to weigh every variable, every potential consequence. "You understand there's no going back from this? Once you make your move, it won't just be Konoha hunting you. Every village will see you both as targets."

"That's what all those years of training were for, isn't it?" Jiraiya's grin held a sharp edge, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Besides, there's something else we need to consider - Sasuke."

Kakashi's visible eye narrowed slightly. The mention of his other student sent a fresh wave of guilt through him.

"What about him?"

"When he wakes up and learns what happened to Naruto because of their fight..." Jiraiya shook his head, his expression growing grave. "That kind of guilt, that kind of self-hatred... Danzo will see it as another opportunity. Another weapon to shape."

"To manipulate him into compliance with the conditioning program," Kakashi finished, the pieces falling into place. He'd seen how Danzo operated, how he could twist even the purest intentions into tools for his own ends.

"The boy's already fragile after what Itachi did to their clan. Now this?" Jiraiya's eyes met Kakashi's with unexpected intensity. "He'll need someone who understands that kind of darkness. Someone who's walked that path and found their way back. Someone who can keep him from falling into Danzo's hands."

"There's Sakura to think about too," Kakashi added, remembering his kunoichi student's face during the trial. "That mixture of guilt and anger in her eyes..."

"Tsunade will take her as an apprentice," Jiraiya nodded. "She sees something of herself in the girl - that same fierce protective instinct, that same potential for both healing and destruction."

"But she'll need guidance," Kakashi said carefully. "Losing both her teammates at once, even if in different ways..."

"That's another reason you need to stay," Jiraiya pointed out. "Tsunade can teach her to heal, to fight, to channel that strength. But you? You can help her understand what happened. Help her process the guilt without letting it consume her." He paused, considering. "She'll need that balance - especially when she realizes her request to bring Sasuke back inadvertently led to all of this."

"The way Tsunade needed balance after Dan and Nawaki," Kakashi understood. "Someone to keep her focused when the pain threatens to overwhelm."

"Exactly. The girl has promise - both as a kunoichi and as a healer. But she's at a crossroads now, just like her teammates." Jiraiya's expression grew serious. "We can't let Danzo use her pain either. Not when she could become exactly what Konoha needs in the years ahead."

"Tsunade wanted me to do this because you're her emotional anchor," Kakashi pressed, though he could feel his resolve weakening. "After everything that's happened, after all the losses she's endured -"

"Ha!" Jiraiya's laugh cut through the morning silence, though it carried an edge of bitterness.

"I've given her more headaches than anyone else over the years. Some anchor I turned out to be."

"I'm serious, Jiraiya-sama. The position you hold in her -"

"Is exactly why it has to be me," Jiraiya interrupted, his humor fading completely. "Think about it - I'm a weakness they can exploit. A pressure point they can use against her. But you?"

He turned to Kakashi, his expression carrying the weight of decades of political maneuvering.

"You're a neutral voice, an eye she can trust when everything else becomes clouded. When the pressures of the office and the council start closing in, she needs someone who can see clearly, who can navigate the shadows without getting lost in them."

He looked toward the horizon, where the sun was beginning to paint the sky in shades of promise.

"With what's coming, with what these documents mean for the shinobi world... She needs your stability here. Sasuke needs your guidance through whatever darkness is coming." A soft smile crossed his face, reminiscent of his younger days with another bright-spirited student. "And Naruto... Maybe I can be for him what you think I am for her - someone who can teach him how to live in the shadows while keeping his heart in the light."

The morning light caught the leaf symbol on their headbands - one that would soon mark them as very different kinds of shinobi.

One would become a fugitive, guiding a student through a life on the run, teaching him to survive while maintaining the spirit that made him who he was.

The other would remain behind the walls, playing a delicate game of loyalty and deception, protecting what they could from within the very system they were about to defy.

"Keep them safe," they said simultaneously, then shared a brief smile at the synchronicity.

The sun broke over the horizon fully now, casting long shadows across the training ground. Soon, they would go their separate ways - one toward a carefully planned escape, the other toward a performance that would have to last for years. But in this moment, teacher and teacher, protector and protector, they shared the weight of what was to come.

Some burdens, after all, were meant to be carried together, even when paths diverged.

 

THE PRESENT, MINUTES LATER…

Never had running felt so exhausting yet so necessary. Naruto's lungs burned as he followed Jiraiya through the maze-like corridors of the old prison outpost, muscles screaming for rest. Every step had to be measured, every breath controlled - one wrong move and they'd alert the ANBU agents whose chakra signatures flickered at the edges of his senses like predators in the dark.

Naruto had no idea how strong these Root people were, but if Jiraiya said they shouldn’t fight them, then they were likely far more of a threat than he realized. Now ANBU he had heard of, he knew they were the village’s most elite agents. And if Neji and Shikamaru said Root were Danzo’s personal army, just how different were they from ANBU?

What kind of power does Danzo hold that Naruto was worth guarding with an elite task force?

Naruto’s lack of knowledge aside, what he did know about his training as a shinobi made the Root agents move differently than his Kakashi-sensei or their other teachers. Their movements were too precise, their chakra signatures too controlled. Even with their disguises, Naruto knew they couldn't risk prolonged contact. They were delicate about procedures, their movements stiffer and more calculated. One slip in their act and they'd be swarmed.

"Down," Jiraiya whispered sharply, pressing Naruto against a wall as footsteps passed overhead. Naruto held his breath, counting the steps. This was their seventh - or was it eighth? - near miss, and his heart still raced with each one. The ANBU mask felt suffocating, the borrowed uniform too restrictive, but they were his only protection right now.

Jiraiya had been clear when they started this escape: they couldn't engage every enemy they encountered.

"We need strength for the journey ahead," he'd said, his usual jovial manner replaced by deadly seriousness. "Each fight risks exposure, risks bringing more than we can handle. Sometimes the true test of a shinobi isn't in who you defeat, but in who you avoid."

Somehow, Jiraiya slipping in some wisdom between their encounters made Naruto at ease. They weren’t too weak to fight them, hopefully. Something inside Naruto just wanted to give Konoha a taste of its own medicine.

The footsteps faded, but Naruto could still feel other signatures moving through the facility - some searching methodically, others rushing with clear purpose. Like a web being woven around them, getting tighter with each passing minute.

Through his mask, sweat dripped down his face, but he didn't dare move to wipe it away. One wrong sound, one misplaced step, and all of this would be for nothing. The thought of ending up back in that cell, waiting for Danzo's "procedure" to begin, made his chest tight with fear.

The facility's decay was evident in every shadow - crumbling walls still bearing scorch marks from the last war, corridors that seemed to whisper with old violence. As they paused at an intersection, Naruto's eyes caught something through rusted cell bars that made his blood freeze. A skeleton, slumped against the far wall, still wearing the tattered remains of a prisoner's uniform. The fabric had rotted to almost nothing, but the prison number was still barely visible on what remained.

His imagination, traitorously vivid, painted a picture he couldn't shake: himself in that cell, waiting in darkness between "activations," slowly becoming just another forgotten remnant in this place of lost souls. Would anyone remember who he was? Or would he simply be "the vessel," a weapon to be stored until needed?

More cells lined the corridor, some holding similar grim occupants. This wasn't just a prison - it was a graveyard. And it had almost become his tomb, not of his body, but of everything that made him Naruto Uzumaki.

"Sensei," he whispered, the word barely a breath in the stale air. A gap between patrols had given them a moment's respite. "After we get out, what happens? Where do we -"

"Later," Jiraiya cut him off, but his eyes never stopped scanning their surroundings, reading threats in every shadow. "Everything will be explained when we're safe."

"But Granny Tsunade's behind this, right?" Naruto pressed, needing some certainty to hold onto. "She set this up to save -"

"It's more complicated than that, kid." The edge in Jiraiya's voice was something new, something that spoke of dangers Naruto couldn't yet understand.

"Much more complicated. There are things in motion..." He shook his head. "But now isn't the time for explanations."

Another patrol's footsteps echoed in the distance, and they pressed themselves into the shadows once more. But Naruto couldn't stop staring at that cell, at the remnants of someone else who had once waited in darkness, counting the days until freedom or death.

They crouched in darkness as more footsteps echoed through the corridors. Each passing second felt like an eternity, each breath potentially their last moment of freedom. But beneath the fear and exhaustion, Naruto felt something else - a fierce determination not to end up like those forgotten prisoners, not to become just another weapon in Danzo's arsenal.

Whatever lay ahead, whatever complications Jiraiya hinted at, it had to be better than the fate that awaited him in this place of shadows and forgotten bones.

Naruto had never felt so disoriented. Every turn Jiraiya led them through seemed to defy normal navigation - thin maintenance ledges barely wide enough for their feet, ventilation shafts that forced them to crawl on their stomachs, hidden crawlspaces between walls that shouldn't exist. This wasn't like any mission he'd experienced before - no straightforward battles, no clear enemies to face. Just endless shadow games and held breath.

Give me Kimimaro any day, he thought bitterly. Or even...

The memory of Sasuke made his chest tighten. At least those fights had been honest, straightforward. This felt like being hunted.

His mind drifted to his friends as they paused in another cramped space. Hinata's face during the trial, filled with unshed tears. Shikamaru's calculated mask cracking under the weight of understanding. Sakura's mix of anger and remorse. He couldn't leave things like this, couldn't let their last memory of him be that moment in the arena.

"Sensei," he whispered, the words catching in his throat. "I need to say goodbye to everyone. My friends - they deserve to know. Sakura-chan, she probably thinks I hate her, and Hinata looked so worried, and Shikamaru might blame himself for the mission, and -"

Jiraiya actually stopped moving, his silence heavy with unspoken weight. The pause stretched long enough that Naruto dared to hope, but then:

"No," he said finally. "We can't risk that."

The words hit Naruto like a physical blow, worse than any jutsu he'd faced. Leave without explaining? Without letting them know he understood, that he forgave them, that he was sorry too?

"What? But what's the plan then? Where are we -"

All his precious people, all the bonds he'd fought so hard to build - was he supposed to just abandon them without a word?

"Here." Jiraiya suddenly pulled them toward a metal door half-hidden behind crumbling stonework. "This is our way out."

His voice carried an urgency that made Naruto's heart race. In the dim light, the door looked ancient, its hinges spotted with rust - another relic from the war that this prison had witnessed.

"Wait!" Naruto grabbed his sleeve, the ANBU mask suddenly feeling suffocating, its edges digging into his skin.

Everything was moving too fast - the escape, the chaos, the secrets that everyone seemed to know except him.

"What's really going on? What happens after we escape? Why won't anyone tell me anything?" His voice cracked on the last word, all the confusion and fear of the past days bleeding through. The sound echoed off the narrow walls, making him wince.

Jiraiya turned to face him, and even through the mask, Naruto could feel the weight of his gaze. In all their time together, training and traveling, he'd never seen his teacher so serious.

"We run, kid."

The words fell like stones into still water.

"That's the plan. We run and keep running. Away from the village, away from everyone you know. Away from everything you've ever dreamed of becoming. It's that or let them turn you into their perfect weapon. Let them strip away everything that makes you you."

The truth of it hit Naruto like a physical blow, leaving him breathless.

Running meant leaving everything behind - his dream of becoming Hokage, burned to ash. But what kind of Hokage would he be anyway, leading people who would so easily turn on their own? His precious people, left with only memories. Though they hadn't seemed so precious when they stood silent at his trial, when they watched Danzo sentence him to a fate worse than death.

The only home he'd ever known had already transformed from sanctuary to prison the moment they chose control over compassion. Every bond he'd fought so hard to forge had proven fragile in the face of politics. Every acknowledgment he'd struggled to earn had been conditional, temporary. Every precious moment that made him who he was would have to be abandoned - but hadn't they already abandoned him first?

It had come to this - his only choice being to run from the very village he'd sworn to protect. Because in the end, when he needed protection himself, not a single person had truly stood up for him. Not the Hokage who'd given him her necklace, not the teacher who'd given him his headband, not the friends who'd fought beside him.

The bitter truth was that he wasn't abandoning his village. His village had already abandoned him.

But before he could even process what that meant, before the full weight of choosing between freedom and belonging could settle in his chest, Jiraiya grabbed his arm and yanked the door open. The hinges screamed in protest, like the prison itself trying to keep its prisoners.

Fresh air rushed in, sweet and clean after the musty prison corridors. It carried the scent of pine and freedom, shocking Naruto's senses after days in stale darkness. For one brief, beautiful moment, he thought he could taste possibility on that breeze, could imagine a future beyond walls and chains and careful control.

Then his eyes adjusted to the sunlight.

They stood in a small clearing, dew still clinging to the grass beneath their feet. Konoha's dense forests surrounded them like silent sentinels, their shadows holding secrets. And from those shadows, from every tree branch and hidden corner, figures emerged - ANBU and jonin, their masks and headbands catching the morning light like dozens of emotionless moons.

At their center stood Tsunade, but not the Tsunade who had defended him so fiercely at his trial.

This was the Hokage in all her terrible authority, her face carved from the same stone as the monument that bore her likeness. All trace of warmth, of the woman who'd given him her necklace and her faith, had vanished.

"You're under arrest."

In that moment, seeing the trap close around them, Naruto understood something that would change him forever: sometimes the hardest prisons aren't the ones with walls. Sometimes they're built from the betrayal of those you trusted most, from the shattering of everything you thought you knew.

The morning sun continued its climb, indifferent to the drama unfolding beneath it. And Naruto, who had fought so hard for freedom, felt something inside him grow very quiet, very still - like hope taking its final breath.

 

TEN HOURS AGO…

The evening air carried the scent of approaching rain as Jiraiya and Tsunade walked Konoha's streets. No more coded conversations, no more gambling metaphors - just two old friends sharing what might be their last honest words beneath gathering storm clouds.

"You still have time to reconsider," Tsunade said softly, her eyes on the darkening sky. The weight of what they were planning pressed against them like a physical thing.

"We both know I won't." Jiraiya's smile was gentle, carrying years of shared history. "You just focus on playing your part. Keep the council believing what they need to believe. Everything else will fall into place."

"Jiraiya..." She stopped walking, turning to face him. The streetlights were just beginning to flicker on, casting their faces in soft shadows. "Thank you. For everything. For being there after Dan and Nawaki, for bringing me back to the village, for this..." Her voice caught. "This isn't a small thing I'm asking. Taking Naruto, becoming a fugitive..."

"Someone has to do it," he said simply. "Better me than Kakashi. The kid needs someone who understands what it means to live outside the rules."

"I didn't know what else to do," Tsunade admitted, her usual strength wavering for just a moment. "When I saw those documents, what they were planning..."

"You did exactly what you needed to do," Jiraiya's voice carried quiet conviction. "Being Hokage means making impossible choices. Besides," his grin returned, though softer now, "looking after troublemakers is kind of my specialty."

"After everything you've done for this village," she shook her head. "To ask you to become its enemy..."

"Maybe it's time someone showed the village what real loyalty looks like," he said. "Sometimes protecting what matters means standing against what you love."

Her voice caught slightly.

"If this is our last real conversation..." Tsunade's voice trailed off, heavy with unspoken words.

Jiraiya laughed, though it carried an edge of something deeper, something that spoke of decades of shared battles and quiet moments. "Every story needs a dramatic farewell scene, right? The gallant hero always leaves his best lines for the end." His eyes sparkled with their old mischief, but beneath it lay a fierce protectiveness she recognized from their genin days.

"Besides," he continued, looking toward the Hokage monument, "someone has to keep that knucklehead on the right path. Might as well be the legendary Toad Sage himself. Can't let my last student turn out like Orochimaru, now can I?"

Tsunade chuckled despite herself, but her expression quickly sobered. The weight of what came next pressed against them like the approaching storm. "After this... you know what I'll have to do. I'll have to treat you as an enemy of the state. Every hunter-nin, every ANBU team... I'll have to send them all after you."

"Well," Jiraiya's grin turned mischievous, deliberately provocative - his old defense against moments too heavy to bear, "at least I'll finally get to see those legendary breasts in action when you try to kill me. Might be worth becoming a missing-nin just for that view. Though I have to say, they're not quite as perky as they were back in-"

The punch that connected with his shoulder carried decades of familiarity - not enough to truly hurt, but enough to say everything they couldn't put into words.

Be safe. Stay alive. Don't you dare die out there.

They both understood what this moment meant - the last time they could be just Tsunade and Jiraiya, before politics and duty forced them into roles they never wanted to play.

Tomorrow they would be Hokage and traitor, hunter and prey.

But tonight, they were still just them - the girl who'd never wanted to be Hokage, and the boy who'd never stopped trying to make her smile.

Some goodbyes, after all, were better said with actions than words. And sometimes, the truest loyalty meant becoming the very thing you'd spent a lifetime fighting against.

 

THE PRESENT, SECONDS LATER…

Naruto's heart thundered against his ribs as he stared at the assembled force before them. His gaze darted from face to familiar face, each one confirming what the Fox had been telling him all along. Asuma-sensei's grim expression, Guy-sensei's uncharacteristically serious stance, Kurenai-sensei's carefully neutral mask - all these people who had supposedly believed in him, now lined up to stop his escape. Their regret meant nothing. Their resignation was just another form of betrayal.

At their center stood Tsunade, her face carved from stone, all trace of warmth gone.

Did you expect them to defend you? the Fox's words echoed in his mind.

She hadn't truly fought for him at all, had she? Her defense at the trial had been nothing but theater, as empty as her promises of protection.

Then he saw Shikamaru among them, and something inside Naruto shattered completely. The newly promoted chunin's presence was like a physical confirmation of everything the Fox had said. Their eyes met across the clearing, and what Naruto saw there wasn't just regret or apology - it was duty overriding friendship, village loyalty crushing personal bonds.

There's always a choice, the Fox had told him, in what Naruto isn’t sure is a mindscape anymore. And here they all were, having made theirs. Even Shikamaru, who he'd thought understood him better than most, had chosen to stand with those who would cage him.

The Nine-Tails' laughter echoed in his mind, not mocking now but grimly vindicated. Still believe in people who won't even fight for you?

For the first time, Naruto had no answer to give.

"What's going on?"

The words tumbled out before he could stop them, confusion and fear making his voice crack. Jiraiya's grip on his arm tightened painfully, the pressure a clear warning to stay quiet.

"You should have known I'd try to save my student," Jiraiya called out, his voice carrying across the clearing with deliberate casualness. "The Gallant Jiraiya never abandons those precious to him."

"I thought you wouldn't be foolish enough to actually attempt it," Tsunade responded, her words falling like ice between them. "Even you must understand what this means."

"Miss a chance to be the hero? Never." Jiraiya's grin was sharp enough to cut. "Besides, many great adventures start with a dash of treason. Isn't that right, Princess?"

"Many heroes die in their final act," Tsunade countered, but something in her tone made Naruto's ears prick up.

"Who says this is the final act?" Jiraiya's words hung in the air for a moment, and Naruto caught the briefest twitch of Tsunade's lip - a ghost of a smile that vanished so quickly he might have imagined it.

Before he could process what that meant, what any of this meant, Tsunade's arm swept forward in a commanding gesture.

"Take them."

The order fell like an executioner's blade, and chaos erupted in its wake.

ANBU dropped from the trees like deadly rain, their masks gleaming in the morning light. Simultaneously, the jonin launched their assault with practiced coordination that spoke of years fighting together.

Asuma's chakra blades whistled through the air, leaving trails of razor wind in their wake. Behind them, Kurenai's hands formed seals with lightning speed, her genjutsu spreading like a crimson mist. Guy's leg swept in a devastating arc that could shatter bones, while other jonin filled the spaces between with elemental jutsu - fire, water, and lightning turning the clearing into a deadly arena.

Naruto could barely process what was happening. His mind still reeled from Tsunade's betrayal, from seeing his teachers assembled against him. Jiraiya's grip kept him moving, twisting him through the air like a puppet, but everything felt distant, unreal.

The Sannin moved like water through stones, his grip on Naruto never faltering. He twisted them between Asuma's wind blades with impossible precision, the deadly chakra passing close enough to cut cloth but never flesh. In the same motion, he ducked under Guy's kick while pulling Naruto into a spin that kept them both safe from the following barrage of kunai.

This can't be happening, he thought as Jiraiya pulled him between Asuma's wind blades. Granny Tsunade was supposed to help us. The teachers, they defended me at the trial, they -

Kurenai's genjutsu shimmered around them, trying to separate them, but Jiraiya's chakra control shattered each illusion before it could take hold. His movements seemed to defy physics - always one step ahead, always in perfect position to protect both himself and Naruto.

Another spin through the air, barely registering Guy-sensei's kick passing beneath them. Naruto caught glimpses of familiar faces through his disoriented state - expressions of regret, of resignation, of duty overriding bonds. Each one felt like another small betrayal.

"Wake up, kid!" Jiraiya's voice cut through Naruto's daze. "Start dodging or you'll die!"

The words jolted him back to reality just as ANBU descended from the trees. Rage suddenly surged through him, hot and overwhelming. His hands moved on instinct, forming the seals he knew best - Shadow Clone Jutsu. But this time, he didn't create them for diversion or escape.

"If they want to cage me so badly," he snarled, "they'll have to earn it!"

Dozens of clones materialized, their faces reflecting the fury in his heart. They didn't scatter defensively - they charged. These weren't the careful tactics Iruka had taught him or the strategic moves Kakashi had drilled into Team 7. This was raw, unrestrained anger given form.

"Kid, what are you - " Jiraiya started, but Naruto was beyond listening.

More clones appeared, filling the clearing with orange-clad fury. They launched themselves at his former teachers, his supposed protectors, the people who had stood silent while Danzo sentenced him to a fate worse than death. Each punch carried years of trust shattered in a single day. Each kick held the weight of betrayal.

"You all just watched!" he screamed, creating more clones to replace those that were dispersed. "You just stood there and let them - "

An ANBU's strike dispersed three clones, but ten more took their place. Guy-sensei's kick scattered another group, but Naruto didn't care. He kept forming the seals, kept pushing chakra into more and more clones.

They wanted to control me? Fine. But first, they'd feel exactly what they were trying to cage.

His reckless assault forced even the jonin to take him seriously. No more pulling punches, no more careful restraint. Good. Let them fight for real. Let them see what they were so afraid of.

"This isn't about dodging anymore," he growled, summoning another wave of clones. "This is about fighting for my life!"

The clearing became a chaos of orange and violence, each clone carrying a piece of Naruto's shattered trust, each strike aimed at the bonds that had proven so fragile. They'd chosen their village over him? Fine. He'd show them exactly what that choice had unleashed.

Through it all, Jiraiya watched with a mixture of concern and understanding as his student finally let his pain take physical form.

The fight shifted when Tsunade finally moved. Naruto had been watching her from the corner of his eye, rage building with each passing second. She had stood there, arms crossed, her face a mask of stone as chaos erupted around them - just like she had when Danzo proclaimed his sentence.

Then suddenly she blurred into motion, and for a moment, Naruto felt a flicker of fear. But it was quickly consumed by something darker, something fed by days of betrayal and abandonment.

"You're supposed to be the Hokage!" he screamed, breaking free from Jiraiya's grip. His clones surged toward her, no longer caring about the difference in their power. "You were supposed to protect me!"

Tsunade's eyes widened slightly - whether at his attack or his words, he couldn't tell. Her legendary strength wasn't just reputation - the air itself seemed to crack as she defended against his assault. Her first counter-strike missed him by inches, cratering the ground, but he didn't care anymore.

"Naruto, stop -" Jiraiya tried to grab him, but Naruto was beyond reason. His clones kept coming, each one carrying a piece of his shattered trust in their fists.

Something flickered across Tsunade's face - Regret? Pain? - as she fought back against his relentless attack. When one of his clones actually got close enough to graze her cheek, surprise registered in her eyes, followed by something deeper, sadder.

Jiraiya finally managed to pull him back, his grip iron-tight. In that breathless moment, when other attackers had been forced back by the sheer chaos of their battle, the air briefly cleared.

Tsunade was close enough that Naruto heard it - just a whisper, meant for Jiraiya's ears:

"Make it believable."

The words made no sense in the context of their desperate fight, but before Naruto could process their meaning, everything changed.

An unfamiliar energy surged through the air - not chakra, but something older, more primal. Red lines appeared around Jiraiya's eyes, his features taking on an almost toad-like quality. The change was subtle but profound, as if nature itself had condensed into human form.

Naruto had never felt anything like it before. The grip on his arm became iron, and suddenly his teacher radiated power that made even Tsunade pause. Whatever this transformation was, it carried weight beyond normal jutsu.

The strike happened too fast for Naruto to follow - one moment Tsunade was advancing, the next there was the sickening crack of breaking bone and a scream that pierced the morning air.

The sound made his stomach turn, not just from its intensity but because it was her voice.

The woman who had given him her necklace, who had believed in him when others doubted, was crying out in genuine agony.

Through the billowing smoke cloud that followed, Naruto caught one final glimpse of her face. Pain contorted her features, real and raw, but her eyes... there was something else there.

Beneath the agony, beneath the fury, he caught a flicker of what almost looked like satisfaction.

As if this had been what she was waiting for all along.

But then Jiraiya was pulling him into the forest, and there was no more time to decipher what he'd seen. No time to understand why his heart felt shattered in two directions - one piece reaching back toward the village and everyone he was leaving behind, the other racing forward into whatever uncertain future awaited them. Shadow Clone after Shadow Clone dissipated into smoke as Naruto started to order them to distract more of their pursuers.

However, the sound of Tsunade’s scream still followed them into the shadows of the trees, a reminder that some choices leave wounds that may never fully heal.

Jiraiya finally let Naruto go when he sensed Naruto was finally coming to his senses. Naruto wasn’t as confused as he was a few minutes ago. Truth be told, he still was, but he was focused more on getting through tonight.

He couldn't believe what just happened. One of the Legendary Sannin had broken him out of prison, and another Legendary Sannin had ordered their pursuit. The red lines around Jiraiya's eyes faded as they leaped from tree to tree, his sage power dissipating - but Naruto barely noticed, his mind racing with the reality of what they'd just done.

Jiraiya had broken Tsunade's arm. They'd fought their way out of a Konoha facility. They were actually doing this - running from the village, becoming missing-nin, leaving everything behind.

But as Konoha grew more distant with each leap, something strange began to bubble up in Naruto's chest. It wasn't quite happiness - too much had been lost for that. But it felt like... possibility. No more waiting in that cell for them to strip away his will. No more watching former friends avoid his gaze. No more village politics deciding his fate.

We're actually free, he thought, the realization hitting him with both terror and exhilaration. The path ahead was uncertain, dangerous - they'd be hunted, probably for the rest of their lives. But at least it would be his path, his choices, his life to live.

For the first time since the trial, since everything had fallen apart, Naruto felt something like hope. Not for becoming Hokage, not for proving himself to the village, but for something new. Something undefined. Something free.

Behind them, Tsunade's scream of pain echoed through the forest - a reminder of what they'd left behind, and the price of freedom.

"Focus, kid," Jiraiya ordered as Naruto tried to look back. "The real fight's just beginning."

The chase was on.

End.

Definitely a much better ending than chapter two if you ask me.

Now as for what happens next chapter…

That I’ll keep a secret so you can enjoy it even further.

I do hope this chapter and the story in general is to your liking.

More Chapters are posted on my patreon Feel free to check it out lads, here's the link

https://www.patreon.com/c/Demon_Knight939

See you all on the next update.

Chapter 4: chapter 4

Hey lads

Another chapter here for your viewing pleasure.

Do enjoy!

Start:

TWO DAYS LATER…

The antiseptic smell of the hospital corridor felt oddly fitting to Kakashi as he made his way toward Tsunade's private room. Everything too clean, too sterile - as if they could somehow sanitize away the messiness of what had happened. His footsteps echoed off white walls that had seen too many tragedies, too many bitter ends to noble intentions.

A legendary Sannin and his student, now missing-nin.

The thought made his chest tighten every time it surfaced. Jiraiya's choice to break Naruto free had sent shockwaves through the village - the Toad Sage himself, one of Konoha's greatest heroes, now branded a traitor. And for what? For choosing to protect a child from those who would strip away his humanity?

He remembered Sakura, whose crying had just stopped yesterday. She painted a blank expression last he spoke - tried to speak - with her, the tears replaced with a shock that her team might never return to what it used to be.

And Sasuke... Kakashi's eye narrowed slightly. His remaining student lay unconscious just a few floors below, his fate hanging as precariously as the village's stability. How long before Danzo turned his attention there? The last Uchiha, potentially unstable after Orochimaru's influence - would they try to "recondition" him too? Turn him into another perfectly controlled weapon?

Kakashi recalled their portrait: boisterous Naruto on one side, bored-to-death Sasuke on the other, and Sakura gleefully smiling through it all. All of them were shells of their former selves.

Some teacher I turned out to be. Three students, and he couldn't protect any of them from the machinery of politics and fear.

His mind drifted to that moment in the arena, when Danzo had pronounced judgment with all the warmth of a blade through silk:

"The subject will undergo comprehensive psychological reconditioning..."

Subject. Not Naruto. Not even "the boy" or "the vessel." Just "subject" - as if they could strip away his humanity before they even began the procedure. The clinical brutality of it had made Kakashi's blood run cold. He'd seen this before, hadn't he? The way power wrapped itself in sterile language, turning children into weapons, dreams into liabilities.

Kakashi's fist clenched at his side as he remembered the faces in that crowd. Noble families nodding along, their carefully neutral expressions masking calculation.

Even some of Naruto's own classmates, their horror at what was happening tempered by years of conditioning to trust authority, to follow orders, to put the village first. He'd watched Hinata's hands tremble in her lap, seen Shikamaru's carefully constructed mask of indifference crack around the edges - but none of them had moved. None of them had spoken.

Just like during the war, he thought bitterly. How many other children had he seen broken by duty, twisted by necessity into weapons? He'd been one himself - the famous prodigy, the perfect soldier, promoted to chunin before he could even understand what that truly meant. Back then, they'd at least had the excuse of war, of desperate times demanding desperate measures.

This was supposed to be different. This generation was meant for peace, for growth, for something better than what they'd endured. Instead, they were repeating the same patterns, wrapping the same old cruelties in new language. "Reconditioning" instead of "weapon training." "Containment protocols" instead of "child soldiers."

The sound of arguing voices pulled him from his dark thoughts as he approached Tsunade's door. His hand paused on the handle as Tsunade's warning from their last private meeting echoed in his mind:

"Trust only me and Shizune. Anyone else, no matter how close they seem, could be one of Danzo's pieces - whether they know it or not."

He felt the weight of that warning settle over him like armor. Every word of his report would have to be chosen carefully, each detail measured against what Danzo's spies might gain from it. The game they were playing had no room for error, not when the stakes were measured in the lives and freedoms of children.

Kakashi’s hand gripped the doorknob to Tsunade’s private room, but the commotion inside told him this area was less than private. He could hear Shizune's increasingly frustrated tone:

"These requisition forms need your signature immediately, and the council is demanding a full report on the escape. The diplomats from Sand are already asking questions about the chakra surge they detected - "

"Later," Tsunade's voice carried an edge of pain that had nothing to do with her broken arm. "There are more pressing matters."

Kakashi pushed open the door to find what could have been the Hokage's office transplanted into a hospital room. Stacks of documents covered every available surface - mission scrolls piled on medical equipment, diplomatic missives scattered across monitoring devices. The red stamp of urgent communications competed with the council's official seal, creating a tapestry of bureaucratic urgency that seemed at odds with the sterile hospital environment.

Only the soft beeping of medical monitors and the medical brace on Tsunade's arm betrayed the room's true location.

Kurenai stood by the window, her crimson eyes focused on something distant, one hand absently touching a bruise on her shoulder - a souvenir from that morning's confrontation. Guy had abandoned his usual exuberance, his face set in lines of worry that looked foreign on his normally cheerful features as he studied a map spread across a medical cart. Asuma leaned against the wall, an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips despite hospital regulations, his knuckles still raw from the fight.

They all bore the marks of the morning's chaos - torn clothing, minor injuries, and something deeper. The weight of having fought against someone they'd sworn to protect, of playing parts in a performance none of them had chosen.

"Kakashi." Tsunade's voice cut through his observations. Her arm was set in a cast, but her honey-colored eyes carried a sharp warning he recognized from their private meeting - a reminder to watch his words, to remember that walls had ears and loyalty was a complex thing these days.

"Status report."

He measured each word carefully, aware of what he would save for later, when there were fewer potential listeners.

"Root ANBU have already spread through the Land of Fire," he reported, falling into the familiar rhythm of mission briefings. "They're establishing a perimeter, but..." He let the words hang, knowing she'd understand the implication.

The real details can wait, he thought. About the false trails I've arranged, about the ANBU squad that mysteriously got their orders delayed, about the "equipment malfunction" that disabled several tracking seals...

Jiraiya hadn't survived this long by being easy to track.

"Sakura?" Tsunade's question carried layers of concern.

"Taking it hard," Kakashi admitted. "She blames herself. The promise she asked Naruto to make about Sasuke..."

He trailed off, remembering finding his remaining student at their old training ground, her fists bloody from pummeling trees, tears mixing with rain as she screamed about broken promises and impossible choices.

"And Sasuke?"

"Still unconscious. The medical team says - "

A sudden commotion in the hallway cut him off. Through the door's window, they could see Root ANBU moving with mechanical precision, their blank masks catching the fluorescent light.

"They're searching the hospital," Asuma observed quietly. "Again."

"Let them search," Tsunade's voice carried deadly calm. "They won't find what they're looking for."

The unspoken truth hung heavy in the air: What they were looking for was already far beyond their reach, racing toward some uncertain future with one of the legendary Sannin as his guide.

"Your orders, Hokage-sama?" Guy asked, his usual enthusiasm replaced by something harder, more focused.

Tsunade's good hand clenched around an official directive bearing the council's seal. Kakashi recognized the calculated precision in her movements - every gesture part of the performance they'd planned. The others saw their Hokage struggling with difficult decisions.

Only he, Shizune, and a certain Toad Sage knew the truth behind her "injury" and the careful choreography that had led to this moment.

"The council," Tsunade's voice carried the weight of official authority, "has issued specific directives regarding the defectors. All teams are to maintain maximum alertness for any sign of their passage or attempts at communication."

Kakashi noted how she used their official designation - "defectors," not "Naruto" or "Jiraiya." Every word measured, every term chosen to maintain the fiction they needed the council to believe.

"Asuma," she continued, her eyes sharp. "Your team will monitor internal village communications. The council is particularly concerned about any messages that might reach Shikamaru Nara. Report anything directly to me."

She turned to Kurenai. "The same applies to Hinata Hyuga and Kiba Inuzuka. Any contact, any hint of communication - I need to know immediately."

"You think they'd really try to contact - " Kurenai started, but Tsunade cut her off.

"What I think doesn't matter. The fact remains that the Jinchuriki of the Nine-Tails broke containment under our watch. The council won't tolerate any further... oversights."

Kakashi watched the others absorb this, seeing the conflict in their expressions. They'd all felt the wrongness of what was happening to Naruto, but none of them knew the deeper game being played.

"Team Guy," Tsunade continued, "will focus on diplomatic missions within the Land of Fire. The Hyuga presence should help reassure our neighbors about the village's stability."

Her eyes flickered to the window, where Root ANBU shadows moved with mechanical precision. Like a flash, her honey-colored eyes focused on Kurenai, and then Asuma.

"Team Kurenai will assist ANBU tracking operations when not otherwise assigned. Team Asuma will monitor internal village sentiment. The council is... concerned about certain discussions regarding their containment protocols."

"With respect, Hokage-sama," Guy's voice carried uncharacteristic tension, "are we really treating Naruto and Jiraiya-sama as traitors? After everything they've - "

"Enough." Tsunade's command cracked through the air. "Our personal feelings are irrelevant. Their escape reflects poorly on everyone in this room - on me as Hokage, on you as jonin who failed to prevent it. The council will expect consequences."

Kakashi watched the others' reactions carefully. He saw Kurenai's carefully controlled expression crack slightly, noticed Asuma's fingers twitch toward his absent cigarette.

They were good shinobi, loyal to their Hokage - which made the deception necessary, but bitter.

They can't know, he reminded himself. The fewer who know the truth, the safer everyone will be.

The rain intensified outside, drumming against the windows like nature's own testimony to the weight of secrets and necessity. Somewhere out there, a legendary Sannin and his student were putting careful distance between themselves and the village that had forced them to run.

And here, in this hospital room that had become an impromptu war room, the performance continued.

Tsunade's eyes met his one last time, and in that brief contact, he read volumes. About the price of necessary lies, about the burden of knowing the truth when others couldn't. About protecting what mattered, even if it meant letting it go.

The weight of it all pressed down like a physical thing, but Kakashi stood straight beneath it. He'd carry this burden, play this role, guard these secrets.

Because sometimes the truest loyalty means protecting people from the very truth you're sworn to defend.

 

THAT SAME DAY, AROUND THE SAME TIME…

The Root operative moved through the forest with mechanical precision, each step calculated, each motion efficient. The orders from Danzo-sama replayed in his mind with programmed clarity:

"The Nine-Tails Jinchuriki must be captured alive. The vessel's condition is irrelevant as long as the seal remains intact. As for Jiraiya..." A pause, weighted with cold calculation. "His interference cannot be tolerated. Handle it with appropriate finality, but maintain absolute discretion."

The briefing had continued, revealing layers of planning that had clearly been in place long before the Valley incident:

"The Containment Protocols are ready. Once we have the vessel, the Uchiha survivor will be conditioned to serve as its handler. The Sharingan's ability to suppress the Nine-Tails makes this non-negotiable. Any resistance will be... addressed."

Now, three days into the pursuit, the operative processed these directives with the emotional detachment that marked all of Root's actions. His unit had detected traces of powerful chakra signatures moving northeast, though something about the trail felt wrong - too obvious for a legendary Sannin, too careless for someone of Jiraiya's experience.

The forest grew denser here, shadows deeper despite the afternoon sun. Movement caught his enhanced senses - two figures in dark robes standing motionless among the trees. The operative's hand moved toward his weapon, but something was already wrong. His thoughts felt suddenly sluggish, his carefully conditioned mind struggling against an invasion that shouldn't have been possible.

The last thing he registered was a pair of crimson eyes, spinning with ancient power.

Itachi watched dispassionately as the Root operative crumpled, joining his two companions on the forest floor. The information he'd extracted painted a concerning picture - one that would require careful handling.

"You're making a mess, Kisame," he observed quietly, noting the blood-soaked ground around his partner's victims. The massive sword Samehada seemed to pulse with recently devoured chakra.

"Can't help it if they're full of such tasty chakra," Kisame grinned, sharp teeth catching what little sunlight filtered through the canopy. "Besides, yours aren't exactly going to walk away either, are they?"

Itachi didn't respond immediately, his mind processing the intelligence he'd gathered.

"Danzo has implemented containment measures for the Nine-Tails Jinchuriki," he said finally, each word carefully chosen. "He forced the boy to flee with Jiraiya rather than submit to psychological reconditioning. Root has been mobilized for pursuit and capture."

"Oh?" Kisame's grin widened. "The old war hawk wants his own pet demon? Leader-sama will want to know about that."

"It's likely our timetable will be accelerated," Itachi agreed. "The organization cannot risk losing the Nine-Tails to Danzo's ambitions."

Itachi’s eyes remained expressionless. He needn’t the Sharingan to check if Kisame noticed how he deliberately omitted any mention of his brother's intended role in Danzo's plans. From the butcher’s grin, he either didn’t or didn’t care enough to bother.

"Perfect timing for a little chaos, don't you think?" Kisame hefted Samehada eagerly. "The village is distracted, their forces divided..."

"No," Itachi's response was measured but firm. "Political instability often leads to heightened security. The village will be watching for any external threats to exploit their current situation."

"Then why not chase the brat ourselves? He's out in the open, on the run..."

Itachi considered his response carefully. The suggestion made tactical sense - the Jinchuriki was arguably more vulnerable now than ever.

And then, Itachi ever so slightly tried shifting his perspective into Danzo’s headspace. How would he react? An acceleration of Sasuke’s training into being the Jinchuriki’s “handler.” Possible forced training to learn… “protocols.”

Itachi recalled his days as an ANBU, training how to strike from the depths of shadows so dark he learned to treat his conscience as a separate entity. Conversations with Danzo as he entered his inner circle, of how kinslaying became a reasonable choice for the village’s stability. He imagined Sasuke as a puppet, strings extending from his limbs and wrapping around Danzo’s fingers.

"We follow our orders," Itachi said finally. "Moving independently now would be... unwise."

Kisame shrugged, apparently accepting this logic. "Your call, partner. Though I hope we get some action soon. Samehada's getting hungry."

The sword pulsed again as if in agreement, but Itachi's mind was already moving ahead, calculating possibilities. Danzo's gambit complicated everything. The carefully maintained balance between his various loyalties - to the village, to his brother, to the organization - was becoming increasingly precarious.

Kisame shifted Samehada on his shoulder, the massive sword still humming with stolen chakra. "So what's our next move? The Nine-Tails was supposed to be our priority, but now..." He gestured vaguely at the bodies scattered around them. "Seems we've got competition."

"We report back first," Itachi replied, his voice maintaining its characteristic evenness. "Though if I were to predict our next directive..." He paused, considering. "The One-Tails will likely become our primary objective."

"Gaara of the Desert?" Kisame's expression sharpened with interest. "Why him specifically?"

"His mental state is... precarious," Itachi observed, choosing each word with precision. "More volatile than Naruto Uzumaki. The One-Tails' influence runs deeper, making him easier to provoke into a confrontation of our choosing."

"Careful, Itachi," Kisame's perpetual grin faded slightly. "That kid's got a nasty reputation. Even with your genjutsu, taking on an unstable Jinchuriki in the middle of the desert..." He left the implications hanging in the air, Samehada pulsing as if in agreement with its wielder's concerns.

"The vessel's survival is irrelevant," Itachi stated, his tone devoid of emotion. "We only require the Biju. Whether its host lives through the extraction process is of little consequence to our goals."

"Cold as ever," Kisame chuckled, but there was a note of appreciation in his voice. "Though I suppose that's why we work well together."

The sun continued its westward journey, casting longer shadows through the blood-stained forest. Somewhere out there, a boy who contained a demon was running from those who would make him one. And Itachi, who knew more than most about necessary monsters, could only play his part and hope it would be enough.

Some chains, after all, were forged from choices rather than steel.

 

AN HOUR LATER…

Kakashi leaned against the wall outside a local tea shop, his ever-present book masking his careful observation of the street. The pages of Icha Icha provided perfect cover for watching his fellow jonin approach, their footsteps carrying the weight of the morning's revelations.

"Where have you been hiding?" Kurenai's question carried an edge of frustration that had nothing to do with his whereabouts.

"Maa, just checking on Sasuke," he replied without looking up from his book. The lie fell easily from his lips, practiced and casual.

"How is he?" Asuma asked, though his tone suggested he was asking more out of obligation than real interest. Their minds were clearly elsewhere.

"The same." Kakashi turned a page he hadn't actually read. "Unconscious but stable."

They seemed to accept this with distracted nods, already turning to their own concerns. None of them noticed the subtle tension in his shoulders, the way his visible eye moved just a fraction too precisely across the page.

The truth sat heavy in his chest. He hadn't been visiting Sasuke at all - he'd stayed behind in Tsunade's office, their conversation ostensibly about his remaining students' welfare. To any observer, it would have seemed like a teacher seeking guidance about his troubled team.

"It's a difficult situation," Tsunade had said, shuffling papers on her desk. "Having to pursue your own student." But her fingers had tapped a precise pattern against the wood, her movements carrying deeper meaning.

As Kakashi had expressed his "concerns" about Sakura's emotional state, his hands had moved in careful gestures, reporting how three Root squads had encountered mysterious equipment failures. While discussing Sasuke's recovery, subtle shifts in his stance conveyed details about "misrouted" communications and "delayed" pursuit teams.

They spoke of stress and worry, of a teacher's concern for his scattered students, but their true conversation played out in a language of minute movements and careful positions. Each gesture adding another piece to the story of how Naruto and Jiraiya had gained at least three days' head start.

"These are trying times for all of us," Tsunade had said finally, her good hand making a seemingly casual adjustment of her medical charts. But Kakashi had read the real message in that movement - his new mission to watch his fellow jonin, to monitor the fractures forming in Konoha's unity.

The weight of that assignment pressed against him now as he pretended to read his book. This would be the end of direct interference in Naruto's escape. From here on, teacher and student would have to rely on their own skills to stay ahead of their pursuers.

The thought made something in his chest tighten, but he pushed it aside.

"I can't believe how she's handling this," Kurenai's voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "Acting like Naruto and Jiraiya-sama are common criminals? After everything they've done for the village?"

"The flames of youth cannot be extinguished so easily!" Guy declared, though his usual volume was notably subdued. "Surely Tsunade-sama has a plan! She wouldn't just abandon - "

"Keep your voice down," Asuma cut in, his eyes scanning the street with practiced casualness. "This isn't like when father was in charge. The political landscape has shifted. Tsunade-sama's position isn't as secure as you might think."

"You mean Danzo's gotten to her?" Kurenai's crimson eyes narrowed. "After that speech she gave at the trial, defending Naruto? I can't believe she'd just - "

"It's not that simple," Asuma sighed, absently reaching for a cigarette he wouldn't light. "Think about it. The noble families are scared after what happened at the Valley of the End. The council's breathing down her neck. One wrong move and they could push for a vote of no confidence."

"But to support that containment program?" Kurenai's fingers clenched at her sides. "To treat a child like a weapon to be stored and activated at will?"

"The Third faced similar pressures," Asuma's voice carried the weight of personal knowledge. "Sometimes maintaining power means making ugly compromises. At least until - "

"Until what?" Guy asked, his usual enthusiasm dampened by genuine concern. "Until they succeed in hunting down our own comrades? Until they implement their 'containment protocols' on others?"

Kakashi's mind sharpened at those words, though his posture remained casual.

He wasn’t quite sure what caused quiet alarms to ring through his thoughts. Even during the trial, Danzo used vague language about “rehabilitation” and “conditioning.” Danzo did mention “containment,” and the steps he wanted to fulfill were indeed “protocols.”

But as he dug deeper into his thoughts, Kakashi couldn’t help but remember the Toad Sage’s discovery. Containment protocols - that specific term had only appeared in classified council documents. The fact that Guy knew intrigued Kakashi.

His old friend was no fool - beneath the exuberant exterior lay one of Konoha's sharpest tactical minds. But that made it more concerning, not less. How much did Guy know? And more importantly, how had he learned it? Was it a coincidence - a convenient way of summarizing Danzo’s verdict?

Tsunade's warning echoed in his mind: "Watch everyone. Even those closest to you. Especially those closest to you."

He watched the exchange with renewed intensity, noting every micro-expression, every subtle shift in stance. This was his real mission now - gauge their reactions, measure their potential responses to what was coming. The future would bring hard choices, and Tsunade needed to know who could be trusted when those moments arrived.

"The flames of youth will prevail!" Guy declared suddenly, though his voice lacked its usual conviction. "Tsunade-sama must have some greater strategy in mind! We must trust in our Hokage's wisdom!"

"Must we?" Kurenai's question hung in the air like poison.

Kakashi turned another unread page, his mind categorizing and analyzing. Kurenai's anger could be dangerous - passionate enough to act rashly, justified enough to draw others to her cause.

Asuma's political awareness made him valuable but potentially overcautious. And Guy... Guy's precise knowledge and carefully measured loyalty now represented something more complex than Kakashi had initially assessed.

All of them good shinobi. All of them potential allies or liabilities, depending on how events unfolded.

And any of them could be pieces in a game larger than what they could see.

The rain had stopped, but the air still felt heavy with unspoken words and uncertain loyalties. Somewhere out there, a legendary Sannin and his student were running for their freedom. And here, in a village that felt increasingly foreign, Kakashi played his part in a performance that was only beginning.

Watch them all, Tsunade had ordered.

Every reaction, every word, every hesitation. The village is fracturing, and we need to know where the breaks will appear.

Now, watching Guy's careful modulation between outrage and loyalty, those words carried new weight.

So he watched, and he waited, and he kept his own counsel. Because sometimes the truest loyalty means becoming the very thing you're meant to guard against. Even if it means suspecting your oldest friends of playing parts in shadows you can't yet see.

 

TWO HOURS LATER…

The office existed in none of Konoha's official records. One of many such spaces Danzo had cultivated over decades, each a carefully constructed testament to his influence. Every detail served a purpose - the room's dimensions subtle enough to command respect while inducing discomfort, the lighting arranged to cast shadows that seemed to reach for visitors like grasping fingers. Power, after all, lay in the smallest details.

The Root operative's report cut through his contemplation. An entire ANBU patrol wiped out. No response to standard check-ins. Bodies found scattered along their designated pursuit routes.

"Have our fugitives finally grown teeth?" Danzo's question carried a hint of dark amusement. Jiraiya was many things, but direct confrontation had never been his preferred method.

"No, Danzo-sama." The operative's voice reflected years of careful conditioning. "Three bodies show signs of savage attack - deep lacerations, as if carved by scaled weapons. Their chakra networks were completely drained. The fourth..." A pause. "The fourth was untouched, save for his mind. Complete neural destruction."

Familiar patterns emerged in Danzo's thoughts, pieces of intelligence collected over decades shifting into new configurations. "Bring me file 7-1-9-3. The incident at the civilian teahouse in the eastern quarter."

The document appeared promptly before him, another small demonstration of Root's efficiency.

"Initial confrontation between Jiraiya and two members of the organization known as 'Akatsuki,'" the operative began.

"Two missing-nin," Danzo corrected sharply. Words held power, and he would not grant legitimacy to such an organization. "Kisame Hoshigaki of the Hidden Mist, and..."

His bandaged eye twitched at the next name, a reaction that would have been imperceptible to most. The Sharingan beneath the bandages pulsed once, as if recognizing its own history.

"Itachi Uchiha."

Danzo's hand drifted to the bandages, not from pain but from memory. The eye's reaction was... interesting. A reminder of past victories, perhaps. Of power claimed in service to the village's greater good.

This development was unfortunate, but not insurmountable. Plans could be adjusted. Pieces repositioned. The Akatsuki's interference would require careful handling, but it might also present new opportunities.

The game grows more complex, he mused, strategies already adapting to these new circumstances. For now, one Sharingan under his control would have to suffice. The other... well, every piece would fall into place eventually.

It always did.

"The Uchiha's condition?" Danzo's question carried the weight of carefully measured interest.

"Still unconscious, Danzo-sama. Though there's a... complication." The operative paused. "The Hokage's apprentice rarely leaves his room. Her patrol performance has suffered as a result."

"Sakura Haruno." The name rolled off his tongue with mild distaste. A civilian-born kunoichi, unremarkable save for her connections. Under normal circumstances, hardly worth his attention.

But circumstances were far from normal.

The girl's devotion to both the Hokage and the Uchiha survivor created... interesting possibilities. The Nine-Tails containment protocols would require precise control over every aspect of Sasuke's development. Even seemingly insignificant pieces could prove useful, if properly motivated.

A thin smile crossed Danzo's face. The village's terror of the Nine-Tails' recent rampage had exceeded his expectations. Whispers of destruction at the Valley of the End, of chakra felt even in the capital - each rumor strengthened his position. The vessel's escape, while frustrating, had only reinforced the necessity of his methods.

Years of careful planning were finally bearing fruit.

"Should we remove her, Danzo-sama?" the operative asked. "It would be simple to arrange an accident during her patrol."

"No." Danzo's eye narrowed thoughtfully. "Her connection to Tsunade makes her valuable. And her presence might prove... useful during the Uchiha's adjustment period."

"You have a plan?"

Danzo allowed himself a moment to consider the possibilities unfolding before him. "Tell me about our youngest operative."

"Sai, Danzo-sama. Fifteen years old. Specializes in infiltration and ink techniques."

"Has he had any contact with these genin?"

"Once, when delivering the Nine-Tails vessel's summons after retrieval."

"Perfect." The word carried satisfaction. Everything was falling into place, each piece aligning with careful precision. "Maintain surveillance for now. Further instructions will follow."

The operative bowed and turned to leave.

"Your name?" Danzo's question stopped him mid-step.

"Yamato, Danzo-sama."

Danzo didn't respond, but his mind was already weaving this piece into his greater design. The Mokuton user could prove invaluable, especially if recapturing the Nine-Tails proved more challenging than anticipated.

His bandaged eye twitched, not with memories this time, but with anticipation. Decades of patience were finally paying off. The village had feared his methods, had called him extreme, paranoid. But now they saw the threat he'd always warned them about - power without control, strength without direction.

They would understand soon enough. The price of peace was eternal vigilance, and he would ensure Konoha paid that price in full.

 

THAT NIGHT…

Rain drummed against the inn's worn roof, creating a steady rhythm that matched the quiet drip from sodden clothes hung in the corner. The single candle's flame wavered with each draft, casting uncertain shadows across walls that had seen better decades.

Through the window, past sheets of rain and forest canopy, the Hokage Monument was barely visible - more suggestion than sight, the faces reduced to thumb-sized silhouettes in the distance. But Naruto's eyes remained fixed on that point, one hand absently playing with the edge of his black wig while steam rose unnoticed from his cooling ramen.

The door creaked open, admitting a gruff-looking man with disheveled clothes and rain-slicked black hair pulled back in a messy ponytail.

"You should eat that before it gets cold," he said, trying to inject some normalcy into the heavy silence. "It's not Ichiraku's, but it'll keep your strength up."

No response. Just that unwavering stare toward distant stone faces that had once meant everything to the boy.

Jiraiya's mind drifted to the morning's chaos - the sound of Tsunade's arm breaking, the perfectly orchestrated pursuit, the careful dance of appearing to try their hardest while ensuring they failed. He could only hope she was handling the aftermath. Danzo wouldn't take this humiliation lightly, and she'd be walking a razor's edge now.

"We'll need to stay low for a while," he continued, more to fill the silence than any real need to explain. "Those clothes we hung up? We'll have to dispose of them before we move on. Can't leave any traces for tracking teams to - "

"Did they really betray me?"

The question cut through his strategic rambling like a blade. There was something final in Naruto's tone, something that suggested he wasn't really asking at all. Just seeking confirmation of what he'd already decided.

The rain continued its steady drumming, and steam no longer rose from the forgotten ramen.

"Everything was a lie," Naruto's voice came out hollow, empty of its usual energy. "All those years trying to prove myself, showing them I wasn't just... just some monster to be afraid of. And in the end?" His laugh held no humor. "In the end, they still saw me as something to be locked away. To be controlled."

The words spilled out like poison from an old wound, each one carrying years of buried pain. "Even after everything - protecting the village, bringing Sasuke back, completing their missions - they still looked at me the same way they did when I was a kid. Like I was just... trash. Something broken that needed to be fixed."

Jiraiya's fingers tightened around his cup. The truth burned in his throat - about Tsunade's plan, about the careful deception they'd orchestrated, about the larger game being played. But he swallowed the words back. The kid's pain was too raw, too fresh. Explanations would feel like excuses now, would only deepen the betrayal he felt.

"It's not like you to take things at face value," he said instead, watching his student carefully. "The Naruto I know would look underneath - "

"The Naruto you know?" Another empty laugh. "Maybe that Naruto got tired. Tired of always having to prove himself. Tired of trying to see the good in people who'd already decided what he was." His fingers traced patterns in the condensation on the table. "Maybe he finally realized that some things don't change, no matter how hard you try."

"Kid..."

"Would it even matter?" Naruto's eyes finally left the distant monument, turning to his teacher with a weariness that looked wrong on such a young face. "If there was some bigger reason, some greater purpose - would it change anything? They still stood there and watched. They still chose their precious village over..." He trailed off, his next words barely a whisper. "I'm just tired of trying."

The rain filled the silence between them, and Jiraiya felt the weight of secrets pressing down like physical things. Sometimes protection meant letting someone believe the worst, even when the truth might ease their pain.

He just hoped the kid's heart was strong enough to bear it.

Jiraiya watched his student through the candlelight, Minato's face superimposing itself over Naruto's features for just a moment. What would you have me tell him? he thought, the weight of responsibility pressing down like a physical thing. How do I keep your son from hating the very village you died to protect?

"A Hokage needs to see beyond surface betrayals," he said carefully. "There might be larger forces at work here that - "

"A Hokage?" Naruto cut him off, and there was something dangerous in his quiet laugh. "Let someone else have it. Let that old vulture Danzo take it - he seems eager enough to tear Tsunade down. Maybe he deserves it. Maybe they all deserve each other."

The words struck Jiraiya like physical blows. This wasn't just pain talking - there was a bitter understanding in Naruto's voice that felt wrong coming from someone so young. But more than that, there was something in the way he spoke about Danzo...

He's starting to see the bigger picture, Jiraiya realized. Starting to understand the political currents that nearly drowned him.

The memory of what he'd discovered in Danzo's office surfaced - documents that painted a picture far more complex than simple fear of a Jinchuriki's power.

"Before you write off your loyalty to Konoha completely," Jiraiya said, choosing his words with unusual care, "there's something strange I found. Something that might explain more than you realize."

The rain drummed harder against the roof, as if nature itself was trying to drown out secrets better left buried. But some truths needed to be heard, even if they changed everything.

"Tell me about your fight with Sasuke," Jiraiya said, his tone shifting to something more focused. "The last thing you remember, before the Nine-Tails took over. Every detail."

As Naruto spoke, Jiraiya's mind worked with practiced precision, years of intelligence gathering converting each detail into pieces of a larger puzzle.

"We were at the Valley of the End. Sasuke... he was different." Naruto's eyes grew distant. "The Curse Mark had spread across his body, changing him. His chakra felt wrong, twisted."

Curse Mark activation consistent with reports, Jiraiya noted mentally. But the medical file mentioned something else...

"It was like Orochimaru's poison was eating away at who he used to be," Naruto continued. "The power he was using - it wasn't natural. Every time he drew on it, the air felt heavier. Colder."

Environmental chakra disturbance, Jiraiya categorized. Could have masked other signatures.

"Then something just... snapped in me." Naruto's hands clenched unconsciously. "Like all my anger suddenly had weight. Like I couldn't contain it anymore."

Jiraiya's eyes narrowed slightly. That phrase - 'suddenly had weight' - it matched the medical report's description of foreign chakra interference. But how...?

"Did you sense anyone else during the fight?" he asked carefully, watching Naruto's reaction.

"You mean like the Nine-Tails?" Naruto looked confused. "I mean, yeah, it was getting louder in my head, more insistent - "

"No." Something cold was forming in Jiraiya's gut as the pieces aligned. The medical report's findings about neural pathway tampering, the precise timing of the Nine-Tails' emergence, the way the chakra disturbance could have hidden another presence...

They used the Curse Mark's chakra signature as cover, he realized with growing horror. While everyone was focused on Sasuke's transformation...

"I should probably thank you," Naruto said quietly. "For breaking me out. For discovering Danzo's plans - "

"That's not why I came for you." Jiraiya's voice cut through the air like a blade. The truth he'd discovered in Danzo's office was far worse than mere political manipulation. "Yes, I found his plans, but I found something else too. Something in a medical report filed just after they brought you back."

The rain drummed harder against the roof, nature's own attempt to drown out dangerous revelations.

"The examining nurse noted anomalies in your neural chakra pathways. Signs of tampering, specifically targeted to regions that regulate emotional control." He watched the implications sink in. "The damage pattern suggested it happened during your fight with Sasuke."

"What are you saying?" Naruto's whisper barely disturbed the air.

"I'm saying," Jiraiya leaned forward, decades of espionage experience telling him this was just the tip of something much darker, "that someone else was there that day. Someone who knew exactly how to trigger the Nine-Tails' emergence." His next words fell like stones into still water:

"Your rage wasn't just yours, kid. While everyone was watching your battle with Sasuke, someone else reached into your mind and turned you into a weapon."

The candle flickered once, casting strange shadows across their faces. In that moment, Jiraiya thought of all the other pieces he hadn't shared yet - the patterns in the medical reports, the precise timing of Root's response teams, the way certain documents had been carefully misfiled to avoid casual discovery.

Who could have orchestrated something this precise?

And more importantly - why make it look like an accident of emotion when they clearly wanted the Nine-Tails to emerge?

The answers, he suspected, would shake Konoha to its foundations.

No, Jiraiya thought.

If what he understood was right, the answers could destroy the very Shinobi World itself.

End.

Hope you all liked it!

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Peace.

Chapter 5: chapter 5

Yo

Chapter 5 over here for you all.

Hope you all love it!

Start:

A FEW HOURS AGO…

The streets of Konoha felt different now. Sakura walked with the others, each step heavy with the weight of everything that had changed in just three days. The afternoon sun cast long shadows that made the ANBU's movements all the more visible - or perhaps, she thought bitterly, they wanted to be seen. A reminder that no one was truly unwatched anymore.

"We'll probably get orders soon," Shino said quietly, breaking the tense silence. "Why? Because as genin and chunin of the Leaf, we're obligated to assist in tracking missing-nin."

Missing-nin. The word made Sakura's stomach turn. Just days ago, Naruto had been their friend, their comrade. Now they spoke of him in the same terms used for traitors and criminals.

"Missing-nin?" Kiba's laugh was sharp enough to cut. "Is that what we're calling Naruto now? After everything he did for this village?"

Sakura felt herself shrinking from the anger in his voice. She remembered Naruto's promise to her, how desperate he'd looked when she'd begged him to bring Sasuke back. Had she known then what it would cost him? Had she cared?

"It's not that simple," Neji began, but Kiba cut him off.

"Don't talk to me about noble families," he snarled. "Where were they when we were fighting the Sound Four? When we were nearly dying to bring back someone who didn't even want to be here?"

His eyes fixed on Sakura with an intensity that made her want to disappear.

"Where were you?"

The accusation hit like a physical blow. She opened her mouth to respond, but what could she say? That she'd been too weak? Too scared? Too focused on her own pain to think about what she was asking of others?

"You made him promise to bring Sasuke back, right?" Kiba pressed, and each word felt like another nail in her conscience. "Did you even think about what that might cost him? Did you care that he had to tap into that... that thing inside him to keep that promise?"

"Sasuke-kun was being controlled by the Curse Mark!"

The words burst out before she could stop them, desperate and defensive. But even as she said them, she remembered Naruto's face in the Academy grounds - bruised and bandaged, still trying to smile when she'd confronted him about Sasuke's condition. How had she repaid that smile? With anger. With blame.

"A victim?"

Kiba's bitter laugh made her flinch.

"That's rich. You weren't there, Sakura. You didn't see what we went through to bring your precious Sasuke back. You didn't have to watch Choji nearly die, or see what that cursed seal really turned him into."

Others tried to intervene - Tenten calling for calm, Shino speaking about village stability - but their voices felt distant to Sakura.

All she could hear was the truth in Kiba's words, see the faces of her teammates in her mind. Sasuke, consumed by darkness she hadn't been strong enough to fight. Naruto, standing alone in that arena while she watched in silence.

"If we receive orders," Neji was saying, his voice carefully neutral, "we'll be expected to follow them. Personal feelings aside - "

Personal feelings.

Was that what she should call this pit in her stomach? This weight that made it hard to breathe when she thought about what they might ask her to do? Hunt down Naruto - the same Naruto who had kept his promise to her, even when it destroyed him?

"Kiba, you’re being emotional," Shikamaru's voice cut through her thoughts. "But you're not entirely wrong."

His sharp eyes found hers, and she couldn't look away.

"Where were any of you when Naruto needed friends as a kid? Besides Choji, Kiba and me, who actually spent time with him before he became useful to you?"

The question drove the air from her lungs.

Memories flooded back - all the times she'd dismissed Naruto's attempts at friendship, all the times she'd chosen Sasuke's cold shoulder over Naruto's warm smile.

Had she ever been his friend at all? Or had she just used him, like everyone else?

"We can't change the past," Ino said, but Sakura heard the uncertainty in her friend's voice.

They had all been guilty of it, hadn't they? Seeing only what they wanted to see, accepting Naruto when it was convenient and turning away when it wasn't.

"What we do now?" Kiba's words dripped with contempt. "You mean like how we all just stood there during his trial? How we watched them sentence him to whatever sick 'conditioning' they had planned?"

Sakura's hands trembled at her sides.

She remembered that moment - the weight of silence in the arena, the look in Naruto's eyes as he realized no one was going to speak for him. She had wanted to say something, hadn't she? Or had she still been too angry about Sasuke, too caught up in her own feelings to see what was really happening?

"Stop it!"

The soft but firm voice cut through their argument like a blade. They all turned to find Hinata, her pale eyes carrying a strength that seemed at odds with her gentle tone.

"Fighting among ourselves won't help Naruto-kun," she said, each word careful but clear. "It won't help Sasuke-kun or Choji-kun either." Her hands trembled slightly but her voice remained steady.

"We're all scared. We're all angry. But tearing each other apart is exactly what they want - to keep us divided, to make us doubt each other."

The silence that followed felt heavier than before, weighted with unspoken accusations and bitter truths. No one quite met each other's eyes, each lost in their own thoughts, their own guilt, their own fears about what orders might come.

When Hinata's soft voice cut through the arguing, Sakura almost welcomed the interruption. Better that than facing these truths about herself, about all of them. About what kind of friend she had really been.

The sound of approaching Root patrols scattered them like leaves in wind. As her friends scattered under the watchful eyes of Root ANBU, Sakura stood alone in the lengthening shadows. Kiba's words echoed in her mind, each accusation striking deeper than any physical blow could have.

Who was she to have demanded such things from Naruto? To have made him promise to bring Sasuke back, as if her feelings were worth more than his life? And then to have the audacity to be angry when that promise nearly destroyed him...

The memory of their return played again in her mind - Naruto, barely conscious but still trying to smile, still trying to tell her he'd kept his word. And what had she done? Yelled at him for hurting Sasuke, as if her crush mattered more than what they'd both been through.

"Always watching their backs," she whispered to the empty street, her hands clenching at her sides.

That's all she'd ever done, wasn't it? Standing behind them, crying for them, making demands of them - but never strong enough to actually help. Never powerful enough to make a difference when it mattered.

Naruto, forced to draw on a power he couldn't control, all because she'd asked too much of him. Sasuke, seeking power in darkness because none of them had been strong enough to help him find it in the light. And her? She'd just stood there in that arena, watching as they prepared to strip away Naruto's will, too weak even to speak up for her friend.

Well, not anymore.

Her fingers unclenched slowly, deliberately. She felt something hardening in her chest - not quite resolve, not quite determination, but something colder. Something born from the ashes of her childhood dreams about love and teams and happy endings.

No one would die on her watch again. No one would have to lose themselves to power they couldn't control, or seek strength in shadows because they had no other choice. Next time - and there would be a time - she wouldn't be the one making demands or watching from the sidelines.

Next time, she would have power of her own.

The sun had nearly set now, casting one last burst of color across the Hokage Monument. Tomorrow, she would go to the hospital. She would look Tsunade in the eye and ask - no, demand - to be trained. Not for Sasuke's love or Naruto's friendship, but for herself. For the power to make sure she never had to watch helplessly as her precious people destroyed themselves again.

Some distances couldn't be bridged with words alone. Some mistakes couldn't be undone with simple apologies. But as Sakura finally turned toward home, her steps carried new purpose. She would become strong enough that neither of her teammates would ever have to bear such burdens alone again.

Even if that meant becoming someone they might not recognize when they finally returned.

 

THE PRESENT, HOURS LATER…

Darkness.

Suffocating, all-consuming darkness pressed against him like a physical weight, crushing his lungs with each desperate breath. Sasuke floated in this void between consciousness and memory, the cursed mark on his neck burning like a brand of his own weakness. Who was he now? Not an avenger - too weak for that. Not even strong enough to break free from...

The memories came in violent flashes: Water roaring beneath his feet at the Valley of the End, facing the dead-last who dared call himself... friend.

The word tasted like ash in his mind.

The Curse Mark had spread across his skin like liquid fire, each tendril promising the power he so desperately craved.

Yes, power - the only thing that mattered. Power to kill Itachi, to avenge his clan, to finally stop being that helpless child watching his world burn...

"I won't let you go to Orochimaru!"

The words had torn through him, Naruto's desperate plea carrying something worse than judgment - understanding.

How dare he? How dare this nobody try to save him? The Curse Mark had fed on that rage, transforming it into something darker, more primal.

Kill him, it whispered in Itachi's voice. Prove you're not still that weak little brother...

But then... then everything had changed.

Red chakra had erupted from Naruto like a volcano of pure malevolence, caustic and ancient and overwhelming. Those eyes - Sasuke would never forget those eyes.

Not blue with determination anymore, but crimson with a killer's intent that made even the Curse Mark's bloodlust feel like a child's tantrum.

He watched his former teammate transform into something monstrous, something that made his nightmares of Itachi seem almost gentle in comparison.

The Rasengan in Naruto's clawed hand had glowed with murderous purpose, aimed not to save but to destroy. For a moment, Sasuke saw his own death reflected in those slitted pupils, and something inside him shattered.

No.

His mind rebelled violently against the memory.

This wasn't right.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

He was an Uchiha elite, the last of his clan, the avenger. He was supposed to be the one with power, the one in control. How dare this dead-last nobody possess such strength? How dare this... this thing that was once his friend stand between him and his destiny?

The void rippled, and suddenly he was nine years old again, standing in a room that reeked of copper and fear.

His parents lay motionless on wooden floors stained crimson, the full moon casting everything in shades of red and shadow. And there stood Itachi, his brother's eyes holding that same inhuman quality he'd seen in Naruto's transformed state.

"Still too weak, little brother."

Itachi's voice merged with the memory of Naruto's bestial roar. The walls seemed to bleed, and behind him, Orochimaru's presence slithered closer like a serpent about to strike.

"Come to me, Sasuke..." The Sannin's voice breathed against his neck, where the Curse Mark pulsed in response.

"I can give you everything you need. Power to surpass them both. Power to never feel helpless again..."

Sasuke reached desperately into that darkness, toward any escape from this nightmare of inadequacy. His fingers stretched out, grasping for salvation, for revenge, for anything that would make him strong enough to never see those eyes again - Itachi's eyes, Naruto's eyes, all of them looking at him with that same damning knowledge of his weakness-

His eyes snapped open with a strangled gasp, cold sweat soaking through the hospital sheets. The sterile white ceiling swam into focus, but all he could see were those eyes - Itachi's cold judgment, Naruto's bestial rage, both carrying the same message: You're still too weak.

"Bad dream?"

Kakashi sat in the corner, his visible eye never leaving his ever-present book. The casual posture might have fooled others, but Sasuke caught the careful way his former teacher positioned himself - close enough to intervene, far enough to give him space. Like handling a wounded animal that might still bite.

Sasuke tried to speak, but his throat felt raw, as if he'd been screaming.

Had he? The thought made his jaw clench. More weakness.

"I'm fine," he managed finally, the words coming out rough and unconvincing. His hand unconsciously moved to his throat, remembering that caustic chakra trying to crush the life from him. If that was just the dead-last's power, then how far behind was he really? How much further did he have to go before he could face...

The image of Itachi standing over their parents flashed again, mixing sickeningly with the memory of Naruto's transformed state.

Both so far beyond him. Both possessing power he couldn't hope to match, not here, not in this village of half-measures and restraint.

He tried to push himself up, but pain shot through his body like lightning. His muscles screamed in protest, each twinge a reminder of his failure. Not just to leave, but to be strong enough to leave on his own terms.

"You shouldn't try to move yet," Kakashi said mildly, turning a page. "The medical team says - "

"I said I'm fine," Sasuke snapped, but the words came out pathetically weak. Just like everything else about him. Just like-

"Hmm," was all Kakashi said, but something in that simple sound carried too much understanding. Too much pity.

The silence stretched between them, broken only by the steady beep of machines and the occasional rustle of pages turning. Outside, rain began to fall, drumming against the hospital windows like nature's own mockery of his situation.

Sasuke lay back against the pillows, his body betraying him even in this small act of defiance. The Curse Mark throbbed dully, a constant reminder of power offered and now potentially lost. But worse than the physical pain, worse than the weakness, was the crushing realization of just how far he still had to go.

If Naruto - dead-last, always-smiling, desperate-to-be-acknowledged Naruto - could possess that kind of monstrous strength... then what chance did he have against Itachi?

How many more years would he waste here, playing at being a ninja while his brother's shadow grew ever longer?

The village might still accept him back. Might even forgive him, eventually. But that wasn't what gnawed at him as he lay there, listening to the rain. It was the knowledge that every day spent here was another day Itachi grew stronger, another day his revenge slipped further from reach.

And now he knew, with crushing certainty, that he wasn't even strong enough to be a worthy opponent for the dead-last of their class.

The rain continued to fall outside his window, each drop another second ticking away, another moment he remained too weak to fulfill his purpose. Too weak to be anything but that same helpless child, watching his world burn and unable to do anything about it.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

"Sakura's been worried about you," Kakashi's voice cut through the silence, casual in a way that felt deliberately constructed.

"She's barely left the hospital since they brought you back. The others have been asking about you too."

Something hot and ugly twisted in Sasuke's chest.

Worried? About him?

The very idea made his teeth clench. What right did they have to worry? To pretend at friendship when they were nothing but obstacles, distractions from his true purpose?

"They're not my friends," he said, the words coming out sharp enough to cut. "Just classmates. Nothing more."

Just faces to tolerate while he grew stronger. Cannon fodder sent to 'rescue' him, as if he needed saving. The image of Naruto among them - dead-last Naruto with his talk of bonds and his monster's power - made his jaw clench tight enough to hurt.

All of them looking at him with those pitying eyes, like he was something broken that needed fixing. As if he needed anything from them except to stay out of his way.

"What's my punishment?" The question came out flat, empty of emotion. "I assume the council is preparing my execution."

"You shouldn't be so hasty," Kakashi replied, his visible eye finally leaving his book. "Things have become... complicated since your return."

A subtle shift of movement caught Sasuke's attention - the whisper of sandals against the ceiling, shadows flowing too precisely across neighboring rooftops through his window. They were being watched. The realization should have concerned him, but all he felt was a dull sort of numbness. Let them watch. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except...

The memory of caustic red chakra flashed through his mind again. Of power that made his Curse Mark feel insignificant in comparison.

"Naruto," the name came out before he could stop it, heavy with hesitation. "What happened to..."

He caught the slight tension in Kakashi's shoulders, the barely perceptible pause before his former teacher turned another page.

Something in Kakashi's tone made Sasuke pause - a gravity that seemed out of place for discussing the dead-last's fate.

What could be so serious about Naruto's condition that it warranted more concern than his own potential execution?

The pit of anger in his chest grew deeper, hotter. He remembered that caustic chakra, those inhuman eyes boring into him with killing intent. Was that nobody's power really such a cause for concern? The same dead-last who'd dared to stand in his way?

"Tell me."

Each word Kakashi spoke seemed to reshape Sasuke's understanding of what had happened after his defeat. The village had gathered in that arena - not for him, the last Uchiha who'd attempted to defect, but for Naruto. The Nine-Tails' rampage had sent shockwaves through the entire Land of Fire, its chakra felt as far as the capital itself. Noble families had demanded action, their fear of uncontrolled power finally finding its target.

The Hokage herself had tried to defend him, arguing about the mission parameters, about the Curse Mark's influence, about necessity and loyalty. But her words had fallen against the council's calculated fear like leaves against stone. They'd seen their opportunity - not just to contain the Nine-Tails, but to finally turn its power to their absolute control.

And then Danzo's verdict...

The details hit him in waves: specialized genjutsu matrices to create foundational command pathways. Psychological reconditioning to ensure absolute compliance. A state of suspended consciousness between missions, awakening only to specific command phrases. Complete subjugation of will, transforming a person into nothing more than a carefully managed weapon.

But one detail caught in his mind like a hook - his own role in their plans.

Him, designated as the Nine-Tails' handler.

His Sharingan, supposedly capable of suppressing both Naruto and the demon within him. They would train him specifically for this purpose, teaching him techniques to control not just the beast, but its vessel as well.

Something cold spread through his chest. He'd had that power all along? During their fight, when that monstrous chakra had overwhelmed him, when he'd felt so helpless before that raw strength... he could have controlled it? All that power that had humiliated him, and he'd possessed the means to bend it to his will the entire time?

The irony of it made his hands clench in the hospital sheets. To think that he'd been searching for power, running toward Orochimaru, when he'd had this capability within him all along. The ability to control not just the Nine-Tails, but Naruto himself... to have that kind of power at his command...

Was this what Itachi had meant about the Sharingan's true potential?

Not just copying techniques or casting genjutsu, but the power to control a tailed beast itself? His mind raced with possibilities. If he could learn to master this ability, to control that level of power...

But something else nagged at him - the way Danzo had spoken about his role, as if he too were just another piece to be positioned.

Would he really be in control, or would he simply be another weapon in their arsenal? Another tool to be pointed at enemies?

"Should I continue?" Kakashi's voice cut through his racing thoughts. "About Naruto's current condition?"

Sasuke's attention snapped back to the present.

Current condition?

By now, the dead-last should be undergoing this 'conditioning,' shouldn't he? Being transformed into the perfect weapon, with Sasuke himself meant to hold his leash? That raw power that had humiliated him would be under his control, bound to his will through the very eyes that marked him as an avenger.

Kakashi shook his head slowly, and something in that simple gesture made Sasuke's stomach turn.

"Not necessarily," a voice that wasn't Kakashi's said quietly. "He escaped."

Sasuke's blood ran cold. He hadn't heard anyone enter, hadn't sensed any presence, yet there stood Danzo by the window, flanked by two ANBU agents - one barely older than Sasuke himself, the other more seasoned. The way they'd appeared, as if materializing from the shadows themselves…

Kakashi's visible eye had narrowed, his book lowering slightly. There was something in his teacher's stance that Sasuke couldn't quite read - a tension he'd never seen before.

"No need to be so guarded, Kakashi," Danzo's voice carried a carefully measured calm. "I'm merely here to ascertain young Uchiha's condition. And to ensure he learns the true story of what happened to his... teammate."

"I won't leave my student alone." Kakashi's tone was polite, but carried an edge.

"Ah yes," Danzo's smile held no warmth. "Because you've done such an excellent job protecting them so far. One student forced to flee, another nearly lost to enemy hands..."

He let the words hang in the air like poison.

"You seem quite skilled at leaving your students alone when they need you most."

 

Sasuke saw something flash in Kakashi's eye - a brief glimpse of genuine anger quickly masked.

"I'll leave when Sasuke asks me to," Kakashi said quietly.

"Of course," Danzo nodded, as if this was exactly what he'd expected. "Though I doubt you'll want to stay. After all, how will you explain keeping the truth from him? About the Sharingan's true potential? About the power you could have taught him?"

Sasuke's head snapped toward Kakashi, disbelief warring with growing anger.

"What is he talking about?"

Kakashi's hesitation was answer enough.

"He taught you an unstable copy of the Fourth's Rasengan," Danzo's soft laugh felt like acid. "When he could have shown you the true power of your birthright. Tell me, Sasuke, how does it feel to know your teacher deliberately kept you weak?"

The Curse Mark pulsed with his rising anger. All this time, all those training sessions... had Kakashi been holding him back? Keeping him from power that was rightfully his?

"Leave," Sasuke said, not looking at his teacher.

"Sasuke, that's not a good - "

"I said leave.” The words came out sharp enough to cut. "I want to hear what he has to say."

He caught the brief flash of something - hurt? concern? - in Kakashi's eye before his teacher nodded slowly.

"You as well," Danzo instructed the two ANBU without looking at them. The younger one - barely more than a boy with an eerily empty smile - disappeared like ink washing away. The older one hesitated for just a moment, his wood-patterned mask catching the afternoon light, before following suit.

And then Sasuke was alone with the man who had sentenced Naruto to become a weapon, who now offered him the power he'd been denied.

The rain stopped drumming against the windows, and yet somewhere in the distance, thunder began to roll.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

 

AROUND THE SAME TIME…

The world seemed to tilt beneath Naruto's feet, Jiraiya's words echoing in his head like thunderclaps. His hands gripped the edge of the worn inn table, knuckles white, trying to anchor himself as memories crashed over him in waves.

The Valley of the End. Sasuke, Curse Mark spreading across his skin like living darkness. The moment everything went wrong - that sudden surge of rage that felt too hot, too overwhelming, too... foreign. The Nine-Tails' chakra flooding his system not like its usual angry burn, but like poison in his veins.

He remembered fragments after that, like shards of a broken mirror: Choji's scream as caustic chakra scorched through his defenses. The look of terror in Shikamaru's eyes. Neji trying to seal his chakra points only to be thrown back like a rag doll. And Sasuke...

"Someone was in my head?" His voice came out small, barely a whisper. "All that destruction, everything that happened... it wasn't just the Nine-Tails losing control?"

The memory of waking up in the rain, surrounded by devastation, his best friend's broken body nearby - it felt different now. Twisted. Wrong. Like someone had reached into his worst nightmare and made it real.

"A genjutsu?" he asked, desperate for some kind of explanation that made sense. "Is that what you're saying? That someone just... just reached in and made me...?"

"It's a theory," Jiraiya said carefully, but something in his tone made Naruto's stomach turn. "We need to consider every possibility, especially with Danzo involved."

"A theory?" Naruto's laugh held an edge of hysteria. "Please tell me you're joking. Please tell me you didn't just suggest someone could just... just reach into my mind and..." His voice cracked. "Make me hurt my friends?"

"I wish I was joking, kid." Jiraiya's usual lighthearted demeanor was gone, replaced by something grimmer. "But it might not have even been genjutsu. Could have been a subconscious command, a chakra trigger, any number of techniques. With someone like Danzo..." He shook his head slowly. "We have to consider everything. Nothing is too ruthless, too calculated."

Naruto's hands trembled as he remembered that final clash with Sasuke. Had any of it been real? His anger, his desperation, that overwhelming need to win at any cost - had those feelings even been his? Or had someone just wound him up like a toy and pointed him at their target?

"I thought..." His voice came out broken, barely audible. "I thought I'd just lost control. That the Nine-Tails was too strong, that I was too weak to..." He couldn't finish the thought. The idea that someone had deliberately made him hurt his friends, had turned him into exactly what the villagers always feared he was...

The ramen in front of him had gone cold, forgotten. Just like the rain outside, just like the distant Hokage Monument he could barely see through the window. Everything felt wrong now, tainted by this new understanding.

Someone had been in his head. Someone had pulled his strings like a puppet.

And the worst part? He hadn't even known. Hadn't even felt it happening.

What kind of monster had they turned him into?

His voice caught as an even more fundamental question surfaced, one that shook the foundations of everything he'd believed:

"I thought... I thought shinobi were supposed to be heroes. Working in the shadows to protect people. That's what Iruka-sensei taught us. That's what the Third always said..."

Jiraiya's bitter laugh held decades of experience, each note carrying memories of betrayals and lost ideals.

"That's the story everyone wanted to tell after the Third Great Shinobi War. During the Third's reign of peace." His eyes grew distant, seeing ghosts of old battlefields. "But before that? Before the Third tried to change things? Shinobi were just weapons. Tools villages used against each other, discarded when broken."

He took a long drink from his cup, as if trying to wash away old memories.

"I saw entire squadrons of children sent to die because some lord wanted to prove a point. Watched friends turn on each other because their villages demanded it. The Third... he tried to change that. Tried to make being a shinobi mean something more than just being a blade in the dark."

The rain's rhythm seemed to underscore the weight of his next words:

"I wanted out of that world too, kid. Thought maybe we'd finally left it behind. But it seems things are getting more complicated now."

He met Naruto's eyes with genuine regret, seeing too much of his own lost innocence reflected there.

"I'm sorry you got caught up in all this. Sorry you had to learn about the uglier side of our world like this."

Naruto stared into his cooling ramen, seeing his reflection ripple with each drop of water that leaked through the inn's worn roof.

Everything he'd believed about being a shinobi, about protecting the village, about following the Will of Fire - had it all been just another way to make weapons feel noble about their purpose?

 

AROUND THE SAME TIME…

When Kakashi left, the silence settled over the room like a physical weight. Sasuke studied the man before him - if his teacher considered him dangerous enough to warrant such caution, then Sasuke wouldn't let himself be coddled.

He would see for himself what kind of threat Danzo really posed.

"What power are you talking about?"

"First," Danzo's voice carried the weight of authority, "you need to understand what happened to Naruto."

What followed was a masterwork of calculated fear-mongering.

Danzo spoke of chakra signatures that made seasoned ANBU tremble, of killing intent so potent it left scorch marks in stone. He described the Nine-Tails' influence spreading like poison through Naruto's chakra network, how the boy's very presence caused sensors physical pain.

The destruction at the Valley of the End wasn't just property damage - it was proof that the seal was weakening, that each burst of emotion brought them closer to catastrophe.

Sasuke could see how it worked, how easily these carefully chosen words could transform Naruto from an annoying dead-last into something terrifying.

The same villagers who had whispered behind their hands about the demon child would now see their fears validated. Every smile would become suspicious, every burst of enthusiasm a potential trigger.

Had Sasuke not grown up with his own burden of others' fear and judgment, had he not seen how easily people could twist tragedy into political advantage, he might have found himself swayed.

The way Danzo described Naruto's escape - not as an act of desperation but as calculated violence, leaving behind injured ANBU and devastated training grounds - it painted a compelling picture of a monster breaking its chains.

But Sasuke had seen real monsters. Had watched one wear his brother's face as it destroyed his world. This carefully constructed narrative about Naruto felt hollow in comparison to his true purpose.

"Your Sharingan betrays your disinterest," Danzo observed, making Sasuke's skin crawl.

The casual mention of his bloodline felt wrong somehow, too familiar.

"Perhaps we should discuss what truly matters to you?"

"I'm not interested in Naruto," Sasuke said flatly. "I want to kill Itachi."

Something that might have been a smile crossed Danzo's face.

"Ah yes. Power. That's all you truly care about, isn't it?"

"It's why I sent Kakashi away," Sasuke agreed. "What is this Uchiha power you mentioned?"

"Tell me, Sasuke-kun," Danzo's voice dropped lower, almost intimate.

“Have you ever heard of the Mangekyo Sharingan?"

The words struck like lightning through his body.

Suddenly he was there again - pinned against that wall, Itachi's fingers around his throat, watching his brother's eyes transform into something that haunted his nightmares. The pattern had shifted, changed, become something ancient and terrible.

Those eyes had trapped him in an eternity of watching his parents die, over and over and over...

His breath came in sharp gasps, the Curse Mark flaring hot enough to make him dizzy. Every muscle tensed as the memory crashed over him - Itachi's voice echoing in his skull:

Until your eyes are like mine, you cannot hope to kill me.

"I see you're familiar with the term." Danzo's observation cut through the memory like a blade through silk.

"How do I obtain it?"

The words came out raw, desperate.

"It's a near-mythical power," Danzo said thoughtfully. "Possessed by only a handful of Uchiha throughout history. Do you know why?"

Sasuke's silence was answer enough, but his hands trembled with barely contained need.

This was it - the key to matching Itachi's power.

"Weakness," Danzo continued.

"Hesitation to embrace hatred as the source of true power."

His eye fixed on Sasuke with uncomfortable intensity.

"I've often wondered why you never awakened it that night, watching your parents die. Perhaps you were simply too weak?"

Itachi's words crashed back:

Kill your closest friend. That was the price of true power.

Was this what his brother had meant? This Mangekyo? Every moment of that night suddenly took on new meaning - not just a test of hatred, but instructions for obtaining this power...

His hands curled into fists, gripping the hospital blanket until his knuckles went white. The Curse Mark blazed across his skin, responding to the typhoon of emotions raging through him.

"Ah," Danzo noted the mark's reaction with something like satisfaction.

"Orochimaru's attempt at granting power. A crude solution, feeding off desperation rather than understanding true potential."

His eye lingered on the cursed mark.

“He sees the Uchiha bloodline as something to be copied, to be grafted onto others. He fails to understand its true nature."

"And you do?"

The question came out sharp, challenging, though Sasuke's mind was still reeling from the implications of the Mangekyo.

All this time, had the answer been so simple? Had Itachi actually been telling him how to gain this power?

"I know more about the Uchiha than you realize," Danzo's voice carried absolute certainty. "Your clan's history, its secrets..."

He paused, letting the words hang in the air.

"The true extent of what your eyes can accomplish."

The rain drummed harder against the windows, thunder rolling in the distance. Sasuke thought of Naruto - not the monster Danzo had described, but the dead-last who'd somehow possessed enough power to humiliate him. His closest...

No. He couldn't even think the word.

Not about Naruto. Not about anyone.

"The Sharingan can control the Nine-Tails," Sasuke said instead, testing the waters. "That's what you were planning, wasn't it? To use me to control Naruto?"

"Control?" Danzo's laugh held no humor. "The Mangekyo offers so much more than simple control, Sasuke-kun. What your brother possesses, what he used against your clan that night - it's merely a fraction of your bloodline's true potential."

The implications hit Sasuke like physical blows. More than what Itachi possessed? More than the power that had destroyed his entire clan in a single night?

"I can help you realize that potential," Danzo continued. "Guide you toward power that Orochimaru could never offer. Power beyond what even Itachi has achieved."

His eye fixed on Sasuke with frightening intensity.

"All you need to do is embrace what you truly are."

And what was that? The last Uchiha? An avenger? Or something else - something darker, something willing to sacrifice anything for power?

Sasuke looked toward the rain-streaked window, but in the glass's reflection, he caught Danzo's expression. The old man didn't need to hear his answer - he could already see it in Sasuke's eyes. The same eyes that might hold power beyond even his brother's...

The Curse Mark pulsed again, but this time it felt different. Not like Orochimaru's borrowed power, but like a reminder of how far he was willing to go. Of what he was willing to become.

"When do we start?"

The words came out steady, certain. Whatever game Danzo was playing, whatever his true motives might be - none of it mattered if it led to power that could surpass Itachi.

Some choices, after all, were made long before the question was ever asked. And Sasuke had made his choice the night he'd watched his parents die.

The thunder rolled closer, and in the window's reflection, Danzo's smile looked almost proud.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

 

AROUND THE SAME TIME…

The voices drifted through Tsunade's private room door, carrying fragments of conversation that made Sakura's hand freeze halfway to knocking. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but...

"These mission scrolls need your immediate attention," Shizune was saying, her voice tight with barely contained frustration. "The council is demanding updates hourly. We need to maintain at least the appearance of normal operations - "

"Normal operations?" Tsunade's bitter laugh made Sakura flinch. "Nothing about this is normal, Shizune. Every team assignment now carries political weight. One wrong move..."

"But the diplomatic missions can't wait! The Land of Wind's representatives are already at our borders. They detected that chakra surge and want explanations - "

"And what exactly am I supposed to tell them?" The sound of papers being shuffled angrily. "That we planned to turn our own Jinchuriki into a mindless weapon? That we drove him to flee rather than submit to - " A sharp intake of breath, then softer: "Never mind. Just... give me time to think."

Sakura's fingers curled against the door frame. She'd never heard the Hokage sound so... tired.

"We still need to assign pursuit squads," Shizune pressed gently. "The council expects - "

"The council expects too much," Tsunade snapped. "We have to be careful who we send after them. Root's already positioning their own agents, and I won't have our young shinobi caught in whatever game Danzo's playing."

"Speaking of young shinobi..." Shizune's voice grew hesitant. "What about Team Seven?"

The air seemed to grow heavier at those words. Sakura found herself holding her breath.

"Sasuke's still under observation," Tsunade said slowly. "And with Naruto gone..."

"I meant about Sakura," Shizune's voice softened further. "She's been at the hospital every day, watching over Sasuke-kun. With both her teammates lost to forces beyond their control, we need to consider - "

Sakura pushed the door open before she could hear the end of that sentence. She couldn't bear to hear herself discussed as something to be "considered," like a problem to be solved.

Not anymore.

Both women turned to her with surprise. Papers lay scattered across Tsunade's hospital bed - mission scrolls, diplomatic reports, pursuit orders. The organized chaos of a village trying to maintain stability while fracturing from within.

"I... I'm sorry for interrupting," Sakura began, then caught herself. No more apologies. No more hesitation. "Actually, no. I'm not sorry. I needed to speak with you, Tsunade-sama."

"Sakura?" Tsunade's eyes narrowed slightly, evaluating. "What are you - "

"Please make me your apprentice!"

The words burst out with all the force of days of bottled pain and determination.

But seeing their startled expressions, Sakura forced herself to slow down, to express what she'd been turning over in her mind since that day in the arena.

"I've been thinking about power," she said more carefully. "About what it means to have it, and what it costs to gain it. Sasuke-kun went to Orochimaru, seeking power he couldn't control. Naruto found Jiraiya-sama and gained strength that..."

She swallowed hard.

"That made everyone fear him."

The memory of Naruto standing alone in that arena and Sasuke unconscious in the hospital made her voice waver, but she pressed on.

"They both found such immense power, but it only led to... to this. If I had been stronger, if I had had power of my own, maybe I could have..."

Her hands clenched at her sides.

“Maybe I could have helped them instead of just watching them destroy themselves. Instead of just crying and making demands and being so... so useless."

The silence that followed felt heavy enough to crush her, but Sakura forced herself to maintain eye contact with the Hokage. She could feel tears threatening to fall but refused to let them.

She'd cried enough.

"I know it might be too late," she continued, her voice growing stronger with each word.

"I know I should have been stronger sooner. But I can't... I can't just stand by anymore. I don't want to be the one who just watches while her precious people suffer. I want power that can heal instead of destroy. Strength that can protect instead of corrupt."

She took a deep breath.

“Please. Teach me to be more than just someone who makes demands of others. Teach me to be someone who can actually make a difference."

Tsunade studied her for a long moment, honey-colored eyes unreadable. The only sound was the steady drumming of rain against the hospital windows and the distant rumble of thunder.

"You understand what you're asking?" Tsunade's voice was carefully neutral. "This isn't like Academy training or even jonin instruction. I don't accept students lightly."

"I understand."

"Do you?" Tsunade's eyes narrowed. "Being my apprentice means dedicating yourself completely. Every hour, every ounce of chakra, every drop of sweat and blood - all of it focused on becoming something more than you are now. Most who ask can't handle it."

Sakura felt her spine straighten. "I'm not most people."

"No?" A hint of challenge entered Tsunade's voice. "Tell me then - what makes you different from every other young kunoichi who's lost teammates? What makes your pain special enough to warrant my time?"

The words stung, but Sakura refused to flinch. "Nothing," she admitted. "My pain isn't special. My loss isn't unique. But..." She thought of Naruto's face in that arena, of Sasuke lying unconscious in his hospital bed. "But I'm tired of pain being all I can offer. Tired of watching others fight while I stand back and cry."

"Shizune," Tsunade said suddenly, not looking away from Sakura. "What's your assessment?"

"Her chakra control is exceptional," Shizune replied carefully. "The medical staff has noticed. And her analytical skills - "

"I'm not asking about her potential as a medical ninja," Tsunade cut her off. "I'm asking about her resolve."

Shizune hesitated, glancing at Sakura. "Nothing particularly noteworthy, no. She's been diligent at the hospital, but..."

Something in Tsunade's expression shifted toward disappointment, and something inside Sakura snapped.

"I won't accept that!"

Her voice rang out sharper than intended, making both women stare at her.

"If you turn me away, I'll be at your doorstep tomorrow. And the next day, and the day after that. Chase me out of the hospital? I'll wait outside. Have ANBU remove me? I'll find another way."

Her hands trembled, but her voice grew stronger.

“Naruto and Sasuke-kun were both taught by Sannin. I refuse to be held back just because I'm... ordinary. Because I wasn't born an Uchiha or chosen as a vessel for some great power."

The words poured out now, carrying years of feeling inadequate, of being overlooked.

"I'm from a civilian family. I have no Kekkei Genkai, no special destiny, nothing that marks me as extraordinary. But I won't let that stop me from seeking this opportunity. I deserve to be judged by my merit, not just my potential!"

Her chest heaved as she faced down the Hokage.

"If you need to test me, fine. If you need to break me down to build me up, I'll endure it. But I'm asking - no, I'm demanding - the chance to prove myself. To be more than just the weak link in Team Seven!"

Silence fell over the room.

Shizune's mouth had dropped open slightly - a mere genin, raising her voice to the Hokage?

But Tsunade's expression had transformed into something more calculating.

"I... I'm sorry for shouting," Sakura started to apologize, her momentary courage faltering.

"First lesson," Tsunade cut her off, and something like approval glinted in her eyes. "Never apologize for what you truly feel. As a medical ninja, you'll have to deliver hard truths to patients whether they want to hear them or not. Conviction isn't a weakness, Sakura. It's a necessity."​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Sakura’s eyes widened. It took her seconds to realize what Tsunade had meant, but the Hokage already continued before Sakura could gather her thoughts.

"Fear isn't weakness," Tsunade said quietly. "Acting despite fear - that's what makes a true shinobi."

She shifted slightly, wincing at her injured arm.

"But you're right about one thing. We can't afford to fail again. Any of us."

Thunder rolled closer outside as Tsunade studied her with renewed intensity.

"If I accept you as my apprentice," she said finally, "understand that I won't coddle you. This isn't about making you feel better about past failures. It's about ensuring you never fail the same way again."

"That's exactly what I want," Sakura said firmly. "I don't need comfort. I need strength."

Something that might have been approval crossed Tsunade's face.

"Tomorrow morning," she said. "Six AM sharp. And Sakura?" Her eyes hardened slightly. "Don't be late. I won't offer this chance twice."

Sakura bowed deeply, her heart hammering in her chest. "Thank you, Tsunade-sama. I won't - "

"Don't thank me yet," Tsunade cut her off. "By this time tomorrow, you might be cursing my name instead."

A ghost of a smile crossed her face.

"Now go. Get some rest. You'll need it."

As Sakura turned to leave, she caught one last exchange behind her:

"Are you sure about this?" Shizune asked softly. "With everything else happening..."

"Sometimes," Tsunade replied, her voice carrying an edge of... something Sakura couldn't quite identify, "the best way to prevent history from repeating is to make sure the next generation has the power to write their own story."

The door closed behind her, and Sakura stood in the hospital hallway, her chest tight with something between terror and determination. Tomorrow would begin her path to real strength - not borrowed power like Sasuke's Curse Mark or Naruto's tailed beast, but something that was truly her own.

Never again would she watch helplessly as her precious people destroyed themselves. Never again would she be too weak to make a difference.

The rain continued to fall outside, but for the first time since everything had fallen apart, Sakura felt something like hope.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

 

AROUND THE SAME TIME…

"It's not fair."

Naruto's voice was quiet, but something had changed in it - like steel being forged in fire.

Everything that had happened - the trial, the betrayal, and now this revelation of manipulation - wasn't just pain anymore. It was crystallizing into something harder, something with purpose.

"No more."

The words carried weight beyond their simplicity. No more being a victim. No more being someone else's weapon. No more watching as others suffered the same fate.

He looked up at his teacher, and Jiraiya saw something in those blue eyes that reminded him painfully of Minato - that same unshakeable resolve once a path became clear.

"What's our next move?"

Jiraiya sighed, running a hand through his disguised hair. The weight of decades of political games and hidden agendas pressed down on him.

"Honestly? I don't know. If Danzo was planning to use you as a weapon, other villages probably have similar ideas for their Jinchuriki." His expression darkened. "There are people in every nation who see power and think 'control' rather than 'protect.' Ideally, we'd find a way to hide them all, but as fugitives..."

"Why not?"

The words came from somewhere deep inside Naruto, from a place beyond the hurt and betrayal.

"Why can't we? Why can't we make that ideal real?"

His hands clenched on the table as the idea took shape in his mind. All those years of being feared, of being seen as nothing but the Nine-Tails' vessel - maybe there was a reason for it all.

"Everyone's so busy trying to control power - maybe it's time someone tried to protect it instead. Maybe that's what being a jinchūriki is supposed to mean."

"Kid, you're talking about going against every hidden village's interests," Jiraiya warned. "They see the Tailed Beasts as military assets, not - "

"That's exactly the problem!" Naruto's fist hit the table, making the forgotten ramen bowl jump. The anger felt different now - not the raw pain of betrayal, but something focused, something with purpose. "We're not assets. We're people. People they sealed these things into and then tried to control."

The memory of Danzo's cold words at the trial made his chest tighten.

"And for what? So they could have weapons to point at each other?"

The more he spoke, the clearer it became in his mind. Every painful memory - the villagers' fear, the loneliness, the way they'd all stood silent at his trial - it was starting to make a terrible kind of sense.

"You know what I realized?"

His voice grew quieter but no less intense.

"Everyone's so afraid of the tailed beasts' power that they never stopped to think - maybe we were chosen as Jinchuriki for a reason. Not to be weapons, but to be protectors."

"You're not thinking like a shinobi in the shadows anymore," Jiraiya said slowly. "This isn't about hiding or running. You're thinking about saving others like you."

"Look what happened to Gaara," Naruto pressed, remembering the pain and loneliness he'd seen in those eyes during the Chunin Exams. How similar it had been to his own. "They turned him into a weapon, made him think he was a monster, and for what? So his own village would fear him?" He shook his head. "There has to be a better way."

"The villages won't just let their Jinchuriki go," Jiraiya cautioned. "You're talking about dismantling decades of military doctrine."

"Then maybe it's time someone did exactly that."

The conviction in his own voice surprised him. A week ago, he would have done anything to prove himself to the village.

Now? Now he saw a different path.

"If my village already threw me away, maybe it's time to find family somewhere else. Maybe the real reason we Jinchuriki exist isn't to be weapons for our villages - maybe we're supposed to protect each other."

"And how would you even begin?" Jiraiya asked.

"By showing them another way. By proving that jinchūriki can be more than just weapons of war." Naruto felt something of his old smile return, but it was different now - sharper, more determined. "Besides, they already think we're monsters, right? Maybe it's time to show them what kind of monsters we choose to be."

The words felt right in a way nothing had since before the trial. This wasn't about becoming Hokage anymore. This wasn't even about proving himself to a village that had already decided what he was.

This was about making sure no other child would grow up feeling like a weapon. No other Jinchuriki would have to face what he and Gaara had faced.

Maybe this is what it was all for, he thought. Maybe all that pain had a purpose after all.

"It'll be dangerous," Jiraiya warned, but something in his tone made Naruto think he wasn't entirely against the idea. "There are eight other Jinchuriki scattered across the world."

"Good." The smile felt strange on Naruto's face - not quite his old grin, but something harder, more determined. Something born from everything they'd taken from him. "We already know where Gaara is. That's two of us. The others can't be that hard to find."

His mind was already racing ahead, imagining what it would be like to find others who understood, who knew what it meant to be turned into weapons. To be feared.

"Then it's decided?" Jiraiya asked.

"We go to Sand."

The words carried all the certainty Naruto felt building in his chest. Finally, a purpose that made sense. A way to turn all this pain into something meaningful.

The rain was easing outside, as if even nature approved of this new path. But then-

"Not yet." Jiraiya's words hit like a bucket of cold water, cutting through Naruto's growing excitement. "You're not ready, kid. Not after what we've just been through. Not for what you're proposing."

"What do you mean, not ready?" The old familiar heat of impatience surged through Naruto's chest. How could they wait? How could they just sit here while- "Gaara's out there right now, probably going through the same thing I - "

"And what happens when you face his handlers?"

The question stopped Naruto's protests cold, like a knife through his certainty.

"His protectors? The elite jonin assigned to keep him under control?"

Each of Jiraiya's words felt like another weight pressing down on Naruto's shoulders.

"Could you even land a single hit on Kakashi right now?"

The memory flashed vivid and sharp - that morning's escape, watching his teachers move with impossible speed and precision. Even with Jiraiya helping, he'd felt like a child playing at being ninja. His hands clenched in his lap until the knuckles went white. He hated this feeling - this helplessness, this knowledge that wanting something wasn't enough to make it possible.

"This isn't some kid's dream anymore," Jiraiya's voice had gone gentler, which somehow made it worse.

Like he understood exactly how much this hurt.

"You're talking about changing the very foundation of how the Shinobi World works. About protecting people that every major village considers weapons. You need to be ready for that."

"Then what am I supposed to do?"

The words came out raw with frustration. Part of Naruto knew his teacher was right, but another part - the part that remembered Gaara's eyes, that understood now what they meant - couldn't bear the thought of waiting.

"Just sit around while others suffer?"

His chest felt tight with competing needs - the desperate urge to act now, to do something, anything, and the growing understanding that rushing in would only lead to failure. To being powerless again, just in a different way.

Why? he wanted to scream. Why does doing the right thing have to mean waiting? Why can't wanting to help be enough?

"You train. You learn. You grow."

Naruto had never heard Jiraiya speak with such intensity before. This wasn't his usual lazy lecturing or perverted jokes. The look in his eyes reminded Naruto of how the Third used to speak about protecting the village - like every word carried the weight of lives.

"I won't let you be another child soldier rushing into someone else's war. If you're serious about becoming a protector, then you need to become strong enough to actually protect."

The words stung. Naruto wanted to shout back, to insist they leave for Sand right now. His hands trembled with the need to do something, anything.

But then the memory hit him - that moment when someone had reached into his mind, twisted his thoughts like they were nothing. He'd been helpless, powerless to stop them from using him like a puppet.

What if it happened again? What if he rushed to help Gaara, only to become someone else's weapon? The thought made his stomach turn. He could see it too clearly - someone using him to hurt the very people he wanted to protect.

"How long?"

The question came out small, almost broken. Everything in him rebelled against waiting, against the thought of others suffering while he trained. But that helpless feeling... never again. He couldn't let that happen ever again.

"As long as it takes."

Jiraiya's firmness should have felt like another cage, another person telling him what he couldn't do. Instead, it felt like a lifeline - someone finally seeing him as more than just a weapon or a problem to be solved.

"This isn't about rushing to prove yourself anymore. This is about becoming someone who can actually make a difference. Someone who can stand against entire villages if necessary."

The words echoed inside Naruto's chest, replacing that desperate need to act with something steadier. Not just dreams of being a hero anymore, but understanding what it would really take to protect others. To make sure no one could ever use him - or any other Jinchuriki - as a weapon again.

I'll become strong enough, he promised silently to Gaara, to all the others out there he hadn't met yet. Strong enough that no one can stop me from protecting you. No matter how long it takes.

The truth of it settled heavily in Naruto's chest. He thought about Gaara, about the other Jinchuriki out there. About what it would mean to truly protect them.

"Alright," he said quietly. "Then teach me. Everything you know."

His eyes met his teacher's with new resolve.

"I want to be strong enough that no one can ever use me as a weapon again. Strong enough that I can stop them from using anyone else that way either."

The rain had stopped completely now. Somewhere in the distance, the Hokage Monument was hidden by darkness and forest, but Naruto wasn't looking back anymore.

He had found a different dream to chase.

And this time, he'd make sure he was ready for it.

End.

I hope you all enjoyed the chapter.

As you can tell, everything is still tense, there is so much groundwork that we just established.

And we’re going to see the fruits of this shine soon.

Anyway, I don’t want to accidentally spoil anything, so I’m going to let you all go.

More Chapters are posted on my patreon Feel free to check it out lads, here's the link

https://www.patreon.com/c/Demon_Knight939

Take care lads.

Peace.

Chapter 6: chapter 6

Hello!

Chapter 6 right here.

I hope you all enjoy it, because we're going to be even more immersed in the lore and worldbuilding.

Start:

TWO YEARS LATER…

The desert wind carried whispers of home, a haunting melody that twisted his insides and made his heart race. Not his home anymore - he'd surrendered that right two years ago - but close enough to stir memories he'd fought to bury.

The boy hunched his shoulders against the biting sand, letting his dark hair fall forward like a shield. Behind those strands, eyes that had once rivaled summer skies in their brightness now held shadows deeper than any desert night.

Two years felt like an eternity.

Two years of running, of hiding in forgotten places, of transforming himself into someone unrecognizable.

Yet still his body betrayed him, muscles coiling tight as bowstrings at the mere sight of village walls rising from the wasteland. Some scars, it seemed, never truly healed.

Inside him, something ancient and furious stirred to wakefulness. The presence unfurled like a beast stretching after long sleep, its chakra burning hot as desert noon against the seal.

Not now, he thought desperately, pressing his hand against his stomach where old pain bloomed fresh. The markings there pulsed beneath his palm, a reminder of everything he'd fled.

Stay quiet. We trained for this. Remember the caves, the mountains, the control we learned.

His companion sensed his struggle. The aging sage, his weather-worn robes whipping in the wind, moved with a grace that belied his apparent years. His hand found the boy's shoulder, weathered fingers squeezing with just enough pressure to anchor him to the present.

They'd practiced this countless times - in hidden caves where water dripped like heartbeats, in remote mountains where the air itself seemed to teach patience. The boy forced himself to breathe, drawing in the desert air in measured counts.

Gradually, the Nine-Tails' rage subsided to a low growl, but its presence remained coiled and waiting, like storm clouds gathering on the horizon.

Focus on the mission, he reminded himself, trying to ignore how the Fox's chakra made his teeth ache. Focus on him. Remember why we're here. Remember who we're here to save.

The walls of Sunagakure loomed closer with each step, and with them came the first signs of how much the shinobi world had twisted itself in their absence.

Guards moved along the battlements with a precision that looked wrong to trained eyes - too perfect, too measured, like watching a dance where every step had been programmed rather than learned.

Their chakra signatures felt muted, constrained in a way that made his skin crawl beneath his disguise. Even from this distance, he could see the control seals gleaming on their armor like brands of ownership.

They weren't Konoha's design, but similar enough to send ice through his veins and make old nightmares stir.

They're everywhere now, he thought bitterly, watching another patrol pass with that same mechanical grace.

Every village finding new ways to cage their weapons. New ways to turn people into tools.

A flash of memory threatened to overwhelm him: the arena where everyone's faces were turned on him as he was given judgment, Danzo's voice carrying the weight of false benevolence as he explained how they would "recondition" him.

How they would make him better.

Useful.

His hands started to shake, phantom needles out of Danzo's words seeming to pierce his skin. But the sage's subtle gesture - three fingers tapped against his gnarled staff, a code they'd developed over years of hiding - pulled him back before the memories could drag him under.

The gates loomed before them now, massive and unforgiving. The guards stationed there moved like pieces in a precise machine, their eyes holding no more life than painted dolls. One approached with a ledger, sandals striking the ground in perfect rhythm, and the boy felt sweat bead along his spine despite the desert's pre-dawn chill.

Everything about this felt wrong - the way chakra hummed through hidden seals, the way even civilian workers moved with unnatural coordination.

"Name?" The guard's voice carried no inflection, no curiosity, nothing that marked him as human rather than puppet.

The boy who had once worn orange like a declaration of defiance, who had shouted his dreams to the world and dared it to deny him, looked up through strands of hair dark as lies. His eyes, once bright with challenge, now held carefully constructed shadows.

"Menma," said Naruto, reaching up to scratch at hair that had once been bright as sunlight, now dyed black as the crows circling overhead. Each gesture was practiced, casual, hiding how his heart thundered against his ribs. "My name is Menma."

The words tasted like ash on his tongue, but they gained them entry. They passed through gates that felt more like prison doors, into a village that echoed with wrongness.

Every shinobi they passed moved as if invisible strings guided their steps. Control seals hummed with chakra that made his stomach turn, their frequency setting his teeth on edge. His own seal burned in response, the Nine-Tails raging against what they both sensed - the corruption of everything a shinobi should be.

This is what they wanted to make of me, he thought, fighting down bile as another patrol passed with empty eyes and perfect steps. His fingers traced the hidden kunai in his sleeve, seeking comfort in its solid reality.

This is what's spreading through every village while we've been hiding in the shadows, training to stop it.

A distant cry of a desert hawk drew his attention to the village center, where merchants were already setting up their stalls in the early morning light. He and his mentor would need to play their parts perfectly - just two wandering herbalists, seeking rare desert plants for their remedies. The boy forced his shoulders to relax, remembering endless lessons in blending in.

Watch everything, but look at nothing directly, his mentor had drilled into him. A careful observer stays alive.

His eyes tracked exit routes on instinct now - narrow alleys between sandstone buildings, hidden paths along the outer walls, spots where shadows would provide cover. Two years had transformed more than just his appearance. The boy who once charged headfirst into everything now calculated escape routes before entering a room.

"Shall we find lodging first, Master Shiro?" he asked, pitching his voice soft and respectful - nothing like the boisterous declarations that had once been his trademark.

The old man's teachings echoed in his mind: A memorable person is a dead person.

The smile he offered the passing civilians was careful, measured. Just friendly enough to avoid suspicion, but not the bright grin that had once split his face. That smile belonged to someone else now, someone who didn't exist in this careful dance of survival.

Sometimes he wondered if that boy - the one who'd shouted his dreams to the world - had died the day they tried to cage him.

No, he corrected himself, feeling the Fox stir restlessly. Not died. Changed. Learned. Survived.

They passed a patrol of puppet-like shinobi, and his chest tightened at the familiar hum of control seals. But his face betrayed nothing as he pretended to study a merchant's display of dried herbs. His mentor had taught him to turn even panic into useful observation - counting guards, noting patrol patterns, mapping the village's new rhythms in case they needed a quick escape.

This wasn't the Sunagakure he remembered. The very air felt wrong, heavy with the weight of invisible chains. But he kept his movements casual, his expression mild, as they made their way toward the inn district. The boy who once wore his heart on his sleeve had learned to bury it deep, beneath layers of careful deception.

Survive first, he reminded himself, falling into the practiced rhythm of their cover story. Then we can save them.

His measured steps faltered for a moment as they rounded a corner, the morning sun finally illuminating what he'd been too focused to notice before: Gaara's face, carved into the cliff face alongside previous Kazekage. The sight made something flutter in his chest - not the earlier panic, but a fragile, dangerous hope.

He did it. He actually did it.

The boy who had once shared his pain, who had understood what it meant to be seen as nothing but a vessel for a demon, now held the highest position in his village. For a moment, memories of their fight during the Chunin exams surfaced - two lonely children possessed by monsters, finding understanding in shared suffering.

If he became Kazekage, maybe things aren't as dark as we thought. Maybe there's still hope for people like us.

His fingers itched to touch the seal on his stomach, to share this moment of possibility with the Fox. But his mentor's training held firm - no suspicious gestures, no signs of recognition. Still, he couldn't quite suppress the slight upturn of his lips as he studied the monument.

"Impressive sight, isn't it?" Master Shiro commented mildly, though his eyes held a warning. "The youngest Kazekage in history, they say."

The reminder sobered him. His mentor's lessons rang clear in his memory: Position doesn't always mean freedom. Sometimes the highest towers hold the deepest dungeons.

He forced his gaze away from the monument, but the hope refused to die completely. Even as they continued their careful act - just travelers seeking lodging and herbs - part of him clung to that image of Gaara's face on the cliff.

Whatever they found here in Suna, whatever forces might be moving in the shadows, at least oneJinchuriki had risen above being seen as just a weapon.

We just have to be patient, he thought, following his mentor toward the inn district. Careful. Smart. The words still felt foreign, so different from his old self, but they had kept him alive these past two years.

The hawk cried again overhead, and he let its wild sound remind him of what they were really fighting for - not just survival, but freedom. For all of them.

AT THE SAME TIME…

The bustling marketplace felt wrong to Jiraiya's trained senses, like a dance where every step had been choreographed to perfection. Two years of living in shadows had transformed more than just their appearances - it had sharpened his awareness of how villages changed, how the machinery of control spread like a quiet plague. Sunagakure had transformed itself just as thoroughly as Konoha, perhaps even more so.

Where once there had been casual exchanges between shinobi and civilians, natural pauses in conversation and organic movements through crowds, now there was only careful distance. Every interaction felt measured, precise, as if someone had written a script for daily life and everyone had memorized their lines.

Like watching a play where everyone's been given their lines, he thought, adjusting his worn sage's robes with deliberate clumsiness. His own role as "Shiro" had been crafted over months of practice - the slight stoop to his shoulders, the occasional tremor in his hands as he examined merchant wares, the absent-minded muttering about medicinal properties. Every detail designed to make him forgettable.

His attention never left his young companion, even as he pretended to squint at dried desert herbs through age-clouded eyes.

The boy had come impossibly far in two years - the transformation from that orange-clad loudmouth who challenged the world to this careful shadow still amazed him. Their training hadn't just been about combat and stealth; it had been about remaking themselves completely.

The way they moved, spoke, even breathed had to become someone else's habits.

But this wasn't like their careful ventures into remote villages where the occasional slip could be covered by distance and obscurity. This was Sunagakure itself, where their faces adorned warning posters at every guard post. The reward amounts made his teeth clench - high enough to tempt even the most honorable shinobi in these increasingly desperate times.

One mistake, he thought, watching Naruto-now-Menma maintain his careful pose of mild interest. One moment of recognition, one slip in our performance. That's all it would take.

The sight of Gaara's face carved into the cliff made his stomach tighten with memories of other young leaders who had risen to power too quickly, too conveniently.

The youngest Kazekage in history - it should have been a sign of progress, of change. But Jiraiya had seen too much in their years of hiding, gathered too many whispers from his dwindling network of informants, to trust in surface appearances. Even his most reliable sources had gone silent about Suna's internal workings, and that silence spoke volumes.

He caught the slight straightening of Naruto's shoulders, the barely contained surge of hope in his posture. The boy had gotten better at controlling his expressions, but his body still betrayed him in these small ways - especially when it came to those he considered precious people.

No, Jiraiya thought firmly, letting his stern gaze catch the boy's attention. Not here. Not now.

They'd spent too long crafting these identities, too many months perfecting every detail of their cover as wandering herbalists. Too many close calls, too many nights planning contingencies, too many sacrifices to risk everything on optimism.

Even if that optimism was one of the things he secretly hoped his student would never completely lose.

The shift in the marketplace's energy caught his attention first - subtle, but unmistakable to someone trained to read crowds. Civilians began clearing the streets with practiced efficiency, their movements carrying an edge of barely concealed fear. Merchants who moments ago had been calling out their wares now packed up with quick, nervous gestures.

Not natural, he noted, maintaining his facade of elderly distraction while categorizing every detail. This isn't respect. This is trained response. Conditioned fear.

Something in the way they moved reminded him too much of Konoha in those final days - how people had learned to disappear when certain council members passed by, how even casual gatherings had become suspect.

When he shuffled over to ask a merchant about the commotion, keeping his posture stooped and harmless, the man's response was telling.

"Kazekage-sama's daily procession," came the whispered reply, eyes darting nervously toward the main street. "Best to clear the streets. The escorts don't like... obstacles."

Escorts. Not guards, not protectors.

Escorts.

The word choice made his instincts scream. In his decades of intelligence gathering, he'd learned that fear often revealed itself in these small linguistic shifts. The way people chose their words when speaking of power told you everything about how that power was wielded.

He felt Naruto tense beside him - a minute shift that probably no one else would notice, but to Jiraiya it might as well have been a shout. A flash of the old Naruto showed through their carefully constructed "Menma" - that burning need to help, to fix, to save.

One stern look was all it took to bring the mask back up, but the moment had been dangerous.

No safety nets this time, he reminded himself, guiding them casually toward a merchant's awning. No Tsunade creating diplomatic covers for us. No Kakashi conveniently misdirecting pursuit squads.

They were truly alone here, in a village that had perhaps fallen even further than Konoha into the machinery of control.

The sound of approaching footsteps carried its own warning - too precise, too measured. Like a metronome given human form. The remaining civilians pressed themselves against walls or ducked into shops, their fear a palpable thing. Two years ago, he might have attributed such behavior to respect for their Kazekage.

Now he recognized it for what it was: conditioned response to potential punishment.

Watch carefully, he thought, knowing Naruto would pick up the subtle hand signal he made while adjusting his robes. Learn everything. Notice everything.

They needed to understand exactly what they were facing before they could even think about helping anyone.

But as the procession approached, even Jiraiya's legendary self-control was tested by what they were about to witness. Because sometimes seeing the truth was harder than any battle they'd fought in their years of hiding.

The time for optimism, it seemed, was long past. Now was the time for careful observation, for gathering intelligence, for understanding exactly how deep the corruption ran. Only then could they hope to fight it.

Hold steady, kid, he thought, feeling Naruto's barely contained emotion beside him. This is just the beginning of what we need to see.

The procession emerged from the main avenue like a masterwork of choreography. Guards moved in perfect formation - not the natural coordination of trained shinobi, but something more mechanical, more precise. It made Jiraiya's skin crawl, even as he maintained his elderly sage's posture of mild curiosity.

Then Gaara appeared, and decades of espionage training nearly cracked under the weight of what he witnessed.

The Kazekage robes hung with unnatural stillness, defying even the desert wind that whipped through the streets. Jiraiya's trained eye caught every detail - how the fabric neither billowed nor shifted, as if frozen in a perfect arrangement. More telling was Gaara's movement beneath those robes.

Each step measured exactly thirty centimeters, by Jiraiya's estimation. The timing between steps never varied by so much as a millisecond. His arms swung in perfect arcs, fingers curled at precise angles that no human would naturally maintain.

But it was the absence that made Jiraiya's blood run cold.

No sand swirled in its usual protective dance around the young Kazekage. That unconscious defense, so integral to Gaara's being that it had once moved without his knowledge to protect him, was completely absent. The gourd on his back might as well have been filled with ordinary sand for all the chakra response it showed.

This isn't Konoha's protocol, he realized, his mind racing through the documented procedures they'd stolen from Danzo's office.

Those had detailed chakra suppression, behavioral conditioning, trigger phrases - but this was something else entirely. The chakra signature emanating from Gaara felt wrong - similar in its constraint, but flowing through artificial channels that reminded Jiraiya of...something. The memory danced just out of reach, but he knew he'd seen this pattern before, years ago.

Naruto's chakra spiked beside him - a surge of raw emotion that threatened to break through their careful disguises. But their brutal training hadn't been for nothing. Those endless months pushing Naruto to his limits, forcing him to face the Nine-Tails' rage again and again until he learned to ride those emotions rather than be consumed by them, paid off now.

One subtle tap of Jiraiya's trading staff against the ground - their signal for extreme caution - and Naruto's chakra settled back to a controlled simmer.

Still, Jiraiya could read the cost of that control in his student's rigid posture.

Hold on, kid. Just a little longer.

When Gaara passed within arm's reach, Jiraiya risked a direct look, cloaking it in the confused squint of an elderly sage. The eyes that met his for that brief moment chilled him more than any battle ever had.

They weren't just empty - empty would have been an improvement. These were voids programmed to display precisely nothing, as if someone had carefully excised not just emotion but the very capacity for it. Even Konoha's controlled ANBU had retained some spark of humanity behind their masks. This was something else entirely.

What have they done to you?

The question burned in his mind even as he cataloged every detail with professional precision - the subtle seals barely visible at Gaara's temples, the way chakra flowed through his body in unnaturally geometric patterns, the complete absence of the One-Tail's usual caustic energy signature.

And more importantly, how are they doing it?

Because understanding the method would be key to undoing it - if they survived long enough to try.

His concern for Naruto grew with each passing moment. They'd prepared for many scenarios, trained for countless possibilities, but seeing a fellowJinchuriki reduced to this... it would test every lesson in emotional control they'd drilled over the past two years.

Stay steady, kid, he thought, feeling Naruto's barely contained trembling beside him.

We'll figure this out.

But first we have to survive long enough to understand what we're really facing.

Because something about this was fundamentally wrong - not just morally, but technically. The chakra patterns, the method of control... it all pointed to something darker than even Danzo's protocols had suggested.

And if they were going to have any hope of helping Gaara, they needed to understand exactly what they were dealing with.

Even if that meant watching, waiting, and letting his student's friend remain a puppet a little longer.

AROUND THE SAME TIME…

From his position near the council chamber windows, Baki watched his former student's procession with carefully concealed anguish.

Each of Gaara's mechanically precise movements felt like a personal failure. The boy he'd once feared, then respected, then sworn to protect, now moved like one of the Shirogane clan's precious puppets.

How did we let this happen? he wondered, his visible eye narrowing as he observed Ibuki's satisfied expression. The Shirogane elder stood with perfect poise, elegant robes bearing subtle puppet-master emblems that seemed to mock everything the art of puppetry once stood for.

"Magnificent, isn't he?" Ibuki's voice carried that same artificial smoothness that characterized everything about the clan. "Such perfect control. Such precise movements."

Baki's jaw clenched beneath his face coverings. How had this happened? The Shirogane were supposed to be nothing - a minor clan with delusions of grandeur, their puppet techniques pale imitations of the Puppet Corps' mastery.

Yet somehow they'd wormed their way into the council, gained influence just as news of Konoha's fugitive Jinchūriki had sent the village into paranoid lockdown.

And now look what they've done to him, Baki thought, remembering the Gaara who had emerged from the Chunin exams changed, determined to protect others. The boy who had earned his place as Kazekage through will and dedication, not this... programming.

The soft whisper of sandals on stone drew his attention. An ANBU materialized briefly - just long enough to press a sealed letter into Ibuki's waiting hand. The movement was subtle, practiced, but Baki's years of experience caught every detail: the lack of official messenger markings, the way Ibuki smoothly concealed the letter without reading it.

The ANBU's presence lingered a moment too long after delivering the letter - a subtle break in protocol that caught Baki's attention. The masked operative's head tilted slightly toward Ibuki, as if waiting for something more than just acknowledgment.

"Your report?" Ibuki asked softly, his tone carrying that artificial pleasantness that set Baki's teeth on edge.

"The preparations continue as planned," the ANBU replied, voice carefully modulated. "Though there have been... questions from the eastern quarter."

Something flickered across Ibuki's perfect composure - a momentary tightness around his eyes. "Questions are natural during times of progress. See that they're answered appropriately."

The threat beneath those smooth words was clear enough to make even the ANBU's shoulders tense slightly. With a bow that seemed more personal than professional, the operative disappeared into the shadows.

Baki noted every detail of the exchange: the lack of official mission parameters, the carefully vague language, the way Ibuki's fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around the sealed letter.

What game are you playing? he wondered. And who's really setting the rules?

"The council's protocols have succeeded beyond expectation," Ibuki commented suddenly, too quickly, as if trying to redirect attention from the ANBU's visit. "The other villages will have to acknowledge our methods now."

Baki recognized the clumsy attempt at misdirection. Two years as Gaara's instructor had taught him to read beneath surface movements, to see the currents that guided apparent chaos. He chose his next words carefully, letting Ibuki know he hadn't missed the significance of that exchange.

"Methods," he repeated, the word carrying just enough weight to make Ibuki's eyes narrow slightly. "Is that what we're calling this?"

The tension between them stretched like a wire ready to snap. They both knew there were questions Baki could ask - about unofficial ANBU movements, about sealed letters from unnamed sources, about how a minor clan had suddenly developed techniques that rivaled Konoha's containment protocols.

But asking those questions now would be premature. Better to let Ibuki think his attempted distraction had partially succeeded, while cataloging every tell, every subtle reaction for future use.

After all, Baki hadn't survived this long by being reckless. Sometimes the best way to protect someone was to watch, to wait, to gather every scrap of intelligence until the perfect moment to act.

He remembered the day everything changed - the council meeting where news of Naruto Uzumaki's escape had sparked panic about their own Jinchūriki. How quickly the Shirogane had stepped forward with their "solution." How efficiently they'd stripped away everything that made Gaara human.

I should have fought harder, he thought, watching his former student's empty eyes scan the street with programmed precision. Should have seen what was coming when they first started talking about "controlled assets" and "perfect weapons."

But he hadn't seen it. None of them had, until it was too late.

Now Gaara - the boy who had finally found his humanity, who had earned the village's trust through sheer determination - moved like a machine. No sand swirled protectively around him. No trace remained of the fierce will that had once defined him.

Ibuki's hand brushed the hidden letter, and Baki caught the slight tension in his shoulders. Whatever was in that message, the Shirogane elder didn't want to read it in front of others.

Even this small tell felt like valuable intelligence, though Baki wasn't sure yet how to use it.

"Our Kazekage sets an example for all villages," Ibuki said smoothly. "Perfect control. Perfect obedience. The future of shinobi warfare."

No, Baki thought, his hand clenching behind his back. This isn't the future. This isn't what he fought for. What any of us fought for.

But he kept his silence, watching his student dance on invisible strings, and wondered if anyone else remembered the boy who had once dreamed of protecting his village rather than being its perfect weapon.

"Look how magnificently he moves," Ibuki murmured, watching Gaara's procession with an artist's satisfaction. "Every gesture perfectly controlled, every step precisely measured. No wasted movement, no unpredictable reactions. True perfection."

Baki felt bile rise in his throat. "He was already willing to serve the village," he said, keeping his voice carefully neutral despite the anger burning in his chest. "The boy had changed after the Chunin exams. He was learning to protect others, to lead-"

"Lead?" Ibuki's laugh held no warmth. "With that demon inside him? With the constant risk of emotional instability?"

His elegant fingers traced one of the puppet-master emblems on his sleeve.

"Look what happened to Konoha's Jinchūriki. One emotional outburst, and half the area around the Valley of the End was destroyed. We couldn't risk such... unpredictability."

You mean you couldn't risk losing control, Baki thought, remembering how Gaara had earned the village's trust through sheer determination. "He would have been a true Kazekage, not just a-"

"A what, Baki?" Ibuki's voice turned sharp beneath its artificial pleasantness. "A perfect weapon? A guaranteed defense against our enemies?" His eyes narrowed slightly. "Perhaps you should follow your former student's example. Making sacrifices for the village's safety... isn't that what shinobi do?"

The words struck like senbon, finding every weak point in Baki's armor of duty. He had failed to protect his student when it mattered most. Had stood silent in council meetings as the Shirogane presented their "solutions," had watched as they slowly stripped away everything that made Gaara human.

"Go," Ibuki said, turning back to the window. "Meet him when he arrives at the fortress. Escort him back to his chambers." A slight smile curved his lips. "After all, isn't that what a devoted teacher does? Watch over his student?"

The dismissal carried all the weight of a council elder's authority, but the mockery beneath it was clear. Baki bowed stiffly, each movement containing the rage he couldn't express.

"Yes, Lord Ibuki."

As he walked through the council building's shadows toward the fortress entrance, Baki's mind raced beneath his carefully controlled expression. This was his penance now - watching over the empty shell that had once been his student. Standing guard while others pulled Gaara's strings.

I'm sorry, he thought, taking his position near the fortress doors. I failed you. But I'm still here. Still watching. Still looking for a way to save what's left of you.

The procession approached with mechanical precision, and Baki straightened his posture. This was all he could do now - stay close, observe everything, and wait for an opportunity to right his greatest failure as a teacher.

Even if that meant bowing to the puppeteers who had stolen his student's soul.

AROUND THE SAME TIME…

The world seemed to narrow to a single point when their eyes met across the dusty street, everything else fading into background noise.

For one desperate heartbeat, Naruto willed Gaara to see through his careful disguise, to recognize something in the blue eyes he hadn't bothered to conceal.

Look at me. Please. I didn't change them because I needed you to know. Remember me. I'm here to help.

But what stared back wasn't Gaara. Not the lonely boy who'd finally found his purpose protecting others, not even the weapon of Suna who'd tried to kill him during the Chunin exams. That Gaara had at least been human - filled with pain and rage, but feeling something.

This... this was nothing.

An empty vessel moving on invisible strings, each step precisely measured, each gesture programmed to perfection.

Is this what they wanted to make of me?

The thought sent bile rising in his throat, bitter and burning. Images flashed through his mind like kunai - the arena filled to the brim with people who didn't help him, Danzo's voice calmly discussing "protocols" and "conditioning," the weight of chains they'd planned to wrap around his will until nothing remained but orders and compliance.

Was this going to be my fate? Just another perfect weapon, all my dreams stripped away until I moved like... like that?

Heat built beneath his skin as emotions surged through the cracks in his careful control - rage at what they'd done to his friend, horror at seeing the truth of what they'd escaped, guilt that crushed his chest for taking so long to return.

The Nine-Tails stirred in its cage, its laughter echoing through his mind like thunder through mountains.

"Look at your precious friend now," it mocked, each word dripping with cruel satisfaction.

"While you've been hiding in caves, learning to suppress me, they've made him into the perfect puppet. Some savior you turned out to be. At least when I controlled him, he still had a will to break."

The Fox's words struck deep, finding every doubt he'd buried during their two years of running. But thousands of hours of brutal training kicked in reflexively.

Naruto's consciousness plunged inward, into that familiar mindscape where ancient bars held back living darkness. With practiced focus born of countless sessions pushed to his limits, he summoned a wave of cold water, letting it crash against the cage. The Fox snarled as the chill struck, steam rising where rage met icy control.

"You dare - "

I dare, Naruto thought, beginning the breathing exercises Jiraiya had drilled into him until they became as natural as heartbeats.

My anger. My choice how to use it. You don't get to use my pain anymore.

"Look what your weakness has wrought," the Nine-Tails snarled, pressing against the bars as steam rose from its wet fur. "All that training, all that running, and for what? While you played at being a shadow, they hollowed him out completely."

The demon's eyes gleamed with malicious understanding, finding every crack in Naruto's resolve.

"I can feel your guilt, boy. It tastes delicious. You know I'm right - you could have prevented this. If you'd been stronger, if you'd been faster, if you hadn't spent two years hiding like a coward - "

Shut up, Naruto thought, sending another wave crashing against the cage. But the Fox only laughed, the sound echoing off the mindscape's walls.

"Remember how he looked at you during the Chunin exams? Such beautiful rage. Such perfect understanding between two monsters. Now look at him - they didn't even need my power to make him truly empty."

This isn't helping, Naruto reminded himself, maintaining the breathing pattern Jiraiya had drilled into him. The Fox just wants control. It's trying to use my feelings against me, like always.

"Is that what you tell yourself?" The Nine-Tails pressed closer to the bars, its breath hot against Naruto's face.

"That I'm just trying to manipulate you? Look again at your friend, vessel. Look at what they've done while you practiced meditation and played dress-up. At least I let my hosts feel something when I controlled them."

We had to prepare, Naruto countered, but doubt crept in like poison. We had to be ready, or we'd just fail like before-

"And how is this not failure?" The Fox's grin stretched wider. "The mighty savior of the Jinchuriki, watching helplessly as another vessel becomes a perfect puppet. Tell me, when they activate him fully, when they make him kill without hesitation or thought, will you still pretend your patience was worth it?"

The words hit like physical blows, but Naruto forced himself to remain steady.

You're trying to make me angry. Make me reckless. Make me expose us before we're ready.

"Ready for what? To watch more of your kind be hollowed out? To run away again when it gets too difficult?"

No, Naruto thought firmly, though each word from the Fox reopened old wounds.

To actually save them this time. To do it right.

The Nine-Tails' laughter turned bitter.

"Keep telling yourself that, vessel. Meanwhile, your friend dances on strings, and you hide behind black hair and borrowed names. Some hero you turned out to be."

But Naruto recognized the pattern now - how the Fox always struck hardest when they were closest to something important. It had done the same throughout their training, trying to break his concentration whenever he made progress.

Nice try, he thought, letting the cold water rise higher. But I learned from last time. My guilt, my anger, my choice how to use them. You don't get to decide anymore.

The Fox retreated slightly, but its grin remained.

"We'll see, vessel. When the moment comes - and it will come - we'll see how well your precious control holds."

Yes, Naruto agreed silently. We will. But this time, I'll be ready.

The water rose until it lapped at the demon's chest, not drowning but containing. They both knew this dance now - the Fox trying to use his emotions, Naruto redirecting rather than suppressing.

Two years had taught them both that neither could truly win, but they could choose how to lose.

And Naruto had chosen patience. No matter how much it hurt.

He felt Jiraiya's staff tap the ground - their signal for extreme caution. The familiar rhythm helped center him further. Inhale for four counts, hold for seven, exhale for eight.

Let the Fox rage. Its anger was just another current to redirect, not resist.

Time seemed to blur as he maintained the meditation, barely registering the procession's end or the dispersing crowd. His focus remained inward, controlling the storm of emotions that threatened to break their cover.

"Menma?"

Jiraiya's hand on his shoulder finally pulled him back to the present. He blinked, realizing fifteen minutes had passed in what felt like seconds. His mentor's eyes held careful concern beneath their elderly disguise.

"I'm fine," he whispered, though the words tasted like lies.

I'm not fine. Nothing about this is fine. But he was in control. For now, that would have to be enough.

The Fox's growls had subsided to bitter muttering, and the street had returned to its artificial normalcy. But the image of those empty eyes stayed with him, a reminder of everything they were fighting against - and everything they still stood to lose.

MINUTES LATER…

Standing at his post near the fortress entrance, Baki's shoulders tensed at the sound of approaching footsteps. His posture relaxed slightly when Temari and Kankuro emerged from the shadows, taking positions beside him.

At least some things haven't changed, he thought, noting how they still naturally flanked where their brother would stand.

"Another 'perfect' procession," Temari muttered once they were alone, her voice barely above a whisper but laden with bitterness. Her fan stayed strapped to her back, but her fingers twitched toward it unconsciously.

"Did you see him today? They didn't even let his sand move. Not once."

Kankuro's face paint couldn't hide the tension in his jaw. "Remember when we were actually afraid of him? Now I'd give anything to see him lose control, just a little. Just to know he's still in there somewhere."

"I failed you all," Baki said quietly, the words carrying years of regret. "As your teacher, I should have-"

"Don't," Temari cut him off sharply, though her eyes held no blame. "We all know how Suna works. The council makes their decisions, and we follow orders. That's how it's always been."

"This isn't like Konoha," Kankuro added, adjusting his puppet scrolls with agitated movements. "We can't just shout about changing people's hearts and expect everything to work out. One wrong move and they might decide Gaara needs even more 'conditioning.'"

Baki's visible eye narrowed at the thought. "We could use someone like Naruto right about now. Someone crazy enough to challenge the whole system."

"Yeah, and look where that got him - running from hunter-nin across half the continent." Kankuro's bitter laugh held no humor. "No, we need to be smarter than that. Keep our heads down, stay close to Gaara, watch for any chance to..." He trailed off, glancing around for listeners.

"To protect him," Temari finished softly. "Even if it's from his own village."

The sound of perfectly measured footsteps approaching made them all straighten, masks of duty sliding back into place. They loosened their shoulders as soon as the guards were outside hearing distance. Kankuro's eyes darted around him to check for any bystanders, the fingers of his hand dancing around behind him as subtle threads of chakra moved the puppet he had assigned to watch their position from one of the rooftops.

The coast was clear.

"We just need to be patient," Kankuro muttered, his fingers absently tracing the edges of a small notebook hidden in his puppet scrolls. "Keep watching, keep learning."

Baki caught the meaning beneath those words. As a senior member of the Puppet Corps, Kankuro had been granted increasing access to the medical wing - all part of the Shirogane's plan to groom him as one of Gaara's future "handlers." They praised his understanding of chakra strings, his natural talent for control.

If they only knew what he was really studying, Baki thought, remembering the dark circles under Kankuro's eyes during morning briefings, the way he pored over every medical report he could access.

"The seals they're using," Kankuro continued quietly, eyes scanning for listeners, "they're not like anything in the Corps' archives. Not even close to standard puppet manipulation techniques." His hand clenched around the hidden notebook. "And the maintenance logs are... careful. They document every procedure, every adjustment, but never how the seals were originally placed."

"An obvious precaution," Temari breathed, her voice barely audible. "In case someone got ideas about reversing them."

Kankuro's bitter smile showed through his face paint. "They love having a puppet master interested in their 'techniques.' Keep dropping hints about teaching me the full protocol someday." His voice hardened. "But they never actually explain anything vital. Just enough to make me useful, not enough to be dangerous."

"They're watching you," Baki warned, though he knew Kankuro understood the risk. "Making sure the puppet master doesn't try to cut his brother's strings."

"Let them watch," Kankuro's whisper carried steel beneath its quiet tone. "I'll play their perfect student as long as it takes. But someday they'll slip up. Leave one vital detail unguarded. And when they do..."

The sound of measured footsteps cut off further conversation. But as they assumed their formal positions, Baki saw the determination in Kankuro's stance. The boy who had once feared his younger brother was now systematically studying every detail of his cage, looking for the one weak point that might set him free.

Patience, Baki reminded himself as Gaara approached. We all wear our masks now. Some just more obviously than others.

THAT EVENING…

The desert inn's room was unlike anything in Naruto's experience - walls of packed sand and clay that somehow kept the worst of the heat at bay, intricate latticed windows that caught evening breezes.

After two years of sleeping in caves and forest hideouts, the actual bed felt almost surreal in its comfort. The innkeeper had been eager to accommodate them, especially after "Shiro" had shown his merchant credentials and explained his interest in rare desert herbs.

Our best cover story yet, Naruto thought, remembering how naturally Jiraiya had played the role - the aging merchant with a soft spot for strays, who'd saved a young orphan from bandits and taken him on as an apprentice.

The story worked because it held elements of truth - the best lies always did, as his mentor had taught him. After all, hadn't Jiraiya in his own way saved Naruto from a darker fate?

He ran his fingers along the unfamiliar textures of the wall, marveling at how different everything felt from the forests and mountains they'd hidden in. The sand seemed to hold memories of the day's heat, yet the room remained surprisingly cool. Under different circumstances, he might have found it fascinating.

And yet, he thought, the homesickness hitting him unexpectedly, it's not home.

The memory of his own apartment rose unbidden - the worn but familiar mattress, the collection of instant ramen cups, the plants he'd probably never see again. Even the creaky floorboard by his bed that he'd always meant to fix. His hands started shaking again, and he pressed them flat against the sandy wall to steady himself.

The merchant disguise had served them well across numerous villages, but Jiraiya had hinted it might need modification here. A simple herb trader wouldn't have the access they needed to Suna's inner circles. To reach the council, to understand what they'd done to Gaara, they'd need something more elaborate.

"The sheets are actually cool," he said aloud, trying to maintain his careful mask of casual interest, trying not to think about what that elaborate plan might entail. "How do they -"

But Jiraiya's expression told him it was time to drop the act. Time to face what they'd seen in those empty eyes that had once held such fierce determination.

Time to plan how to save a friend without losing everything they'd worked for these past two years.

The desert sun painted the room in shades of blood and memory as master and student prepared to drop their carefully maintained facades, if only for a moment, to face the true magnitude of what lay ahead.

"Focus, kid," Jiraiya interrupted softly, activating privacy seals around the room with practiced movements. "We need to talk about what we saw."

They discussed the events of the day - the guards that seemed to be controlled by an outside presence, muted chakra signatures that implied their bodies might not be truly theirs to begin with. Controlled fear within the village. Gaara's sighting.

Naruto's attempted smile faltered.

"He's... they've done something to him. Something worse than what they planned for me."

"Much worse," Jiraiya agreed, settling cross-legged on the floor. "Those seals on him - they're not like Konoha's containment protocols. This is something else entirely."

Something that turned my friend into a puppet, Naruto thought, but kept the words behind clenched teeth. The Nine-Tails stirred restlessly at his anger, but years of training held.

"Our original plan won't work," Jiraiya continued, his voice heavy with implications. "We can't just spirit him away like we planned. Those seals need to be studied, understood, before we try anything. One wrong move could..."

He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to.

"So what do we do?" Naruto asked, fighting to keep his voice steady. "We can't just leave him like that!"

"No," Jiraiya agreed. "But this is going to take something more delicate than our usual approaches. We need to infiltrate the council itself, find out who's controlling these seals, how they're maintained." His eyes met Naruto's with uncomfortable intensity. "And I'm going to need your help in ways we haven't trained for."

The sunset painted the room in shades of blood and shadow as Naruto absorbed the implications. More waiting. More watching. More pretending while his friend remained trapped.

"I don't know if I can..." he started, but Jiraiya cut him off.

"You can. You must." His mentor's voice softened slightly. "Two years ago, you would have charged in without a plan, trying to save everyone through sheer determination. Show me those years of training weren't wasted. Show me you've learned the harder path of patience."

Naruto's hands clenched at his sides, but he forced them to relax. Breathe. Focus. Choose how to use the anger.

"What's the plan?" he asked finally, and saw approval flicker in Jiraiya's eyes.

The desert wind whispered through the latticed windows as master and student began to plot, their shadows stretching long against sun-warmed walls. Somewhere in the growing darkness, a friend remained caged, waiting for a rescue they couldn't rush.

Hold on, Gaara, Naruto thought as Jiraiya began outlining their new approach. This time, we'll do it right. No matter how long it takes.

End.

I hope you all liked the chapter.

As you all can tell. This story is dark. So if you guys have it in you to stomach it… well, you'll mostly likely love it.

At least I hope that's the case.

Now I don't want to spoil anything for you guys so I'll end the talking here.

More Chapters are posted on my patreon Feel free to check it out lads, here's the link

https://www.patreon.com/c/Demon_Knight939

 

See you all on the next chapter!

Chapter 7: chapter 7

Hey lads!

Chapter 7 right here, I do hope you all like it.

It can be a little intense from here though.

Start:

The candles cast dancing shadows across Ibuki Shirogane's private chambers, making the specialized puppets along the walls seem to writhe with artificial life. Each one was a masterpiece of control - complex mechanisms that made Suna's traditional puppet techniques look like children's toys. But they were merely steps toward true mastery.

Ibuki's fingers traced the worn edges of a stolen scroll, its pages detailing Konoha's containment protocols.

Such crude methods, they thought, lips curling in disgust. All force and suppression. No understanding of the true art of control.

The room itself was a testament to generations of refined technique - walls lined with puppets that grew more sophisticated as you followed their evolution. From simple battle tools to complex human replicas, each one marking another step toward perfection. Toward the ultimate form of puppetry.

Ibuki’s mind drifted to their clan's history - the fall from grace, the years of hiding and adapting. The Shirogane had once been dismissed as minor puppeteers, their techniques considered pale imitations of Suna's arts. But they had survived, evolved, recognized that true puppetry wasn't about controlling wood and metal.

The human body is the ultimate puppet, their grandmother had taught them. And the human will, properly conditioned, the ultimate string.

Now, watching the council practically preen over their "success," Ibuki felt a deep satisfaction. Let them think this was about weapons and power. Let them believe they understood control.

The truth was so much more elegant.

Through Gaara, they would prove the Shirogane's true mastery. Not just control of a Jinchūriki - any brute force seal could manage that. No, they would demonstrate perfect, absolute puppetry of body and will. Their techniques would make Konoha's protocols look like amateur restraints.

We will restore our clan's glory through him, Ibuki thought, fingers brushing the hidden letter that still waited to be read. And then... then they'll understand true art.

The council droned on about security measures and weapon deployment, but Ibuki's mind was already moving ahead. This merchant might prove useful - new resources for their continuing work. After all, true art required proper materials.

And the masterpiece was still far from complete.

A knock interrupted his contemplation.

"Lord Ibuki," a guard called softly. "News from the gates. A merchant named Shiro seeks audience - claims to have rare herbs for the council's pharmacy."

"And?" Ibuki asked, already turning back to his scrolls.

"He sent this... letter of introduction."

The guard's hesitation made Ibuki look up. The proffered paper was a mess of barely legible scrawls, characters that seemed to stumble over each other like drunk civilians. Despite himself, Ibuki felt his eye twitch at the aesthetic offense.

"He claims to be a master herbalist," the guard added apologetically, as if embarrassed by the very document he held.

"A master herbalist who writes like a child with a broken brush?" Ibuki muttered, plucking the letter with two fingers as if it might contaminate his refined sensibilities.

Yet as he forced himself to decipher the chaotic script, certain phrases caught his attention. References to rare desert plants, their medicinal properties, and most intriguingly - their potential applications in chakra manipulation.

Interesting, he thought, even as his artistic soul cringed at the presentation. Even crude tools can serve refined purposes.

"Tell this... Shiro... his petition will be considered," he said, making a mental note to have the offensive letter burned. "Though perhaps suggest he employ a scribe in the future."

Later, in his private study, Ibuki reviewed the latest reports on Gaara's condition before the council meeting. His benefactor's latest letter had been clear - the control mechanisms were still imperfect. Subtle variations in chakra flow, microscopic fluctuations in the puppet seals... details that only a true artist would notice, but maddening in their persistence.

They want to deploy him already, he thought with growing irritation. As if he were some common weapon to be thrown at enemies.

The council chamber, when he entered it, buzzed with strategic discussions. Members debated potential targets, argued over where their "perfect weapon" should be demonstrated first. The Rain Country border? The Land of Rivers? Each suggestion made Ibuki's teeth clench behind his pleasant smile.

Perfect, he scoffed internally. They see a puppet dancing and think they understand the art. They don't see the thousand invisible strings that could still snap.

His fingers brushed the latest letter from his mysterious benefactor, still unopened. The last one had detailed every microscopic flaw in their control matrix - flaws these bureaucrats couldn't even comprehend, let alone appreciate. True perfection required more time, more refinement.

But watching his fellow council members plot war strategies like children with a new toy, Ibuki knew better than to voice these concerns. Let them play their games of politics and power. His own art required patience.

Even if he had to endure their crude understanding - and apparently, merchants with the handwriting of drunken chickens - to achieve it.

 

A FEW DAYS LATER…

"I had a feeling that would work," Jiraiya mused, watching his student nearly choke on his morning tea. "Though I didn't expect them to bite quite so quickly."

The invitation to the council chambers sat between them on the small inn table, its official seal gleaming in the early sunlight. One week. They'd been in Suna barely one week, and already their hastily crafted plan was bearing fruit.

"But that letter was terrible!" Naruto whispered frantically, still coughing. "Your handwriting looked like you wrote it during an earthquake!"

He remembered their endless lessons in deception, how Jiraiya had drilled into him that sometimes the most obvious flaw could be your best cover.

Make them focus on one obvious weakness, his mentor had taught, and they'll miss the deeper game you're playing.

"Exactly." Jiraiya's grin held a hint of his old mischief. "What better way to convince them I'm just a simple merchant? No one trying to deceive them would write that badly."

"But all that stuff about herbs and chakra manipulation..." Naruto's eyes narrowed suspiciously, unconsciously shifting his posture to match his 'Menma' personality - shoulders slightly hunched, head tilted deferentially. Two years of training had made these transitions almost natural. "You made that up, right?"

"Actually..." Jiraiya took another sip of tea, savoring the moment. "Every word came from reliable sources. Those conversations with Tsunade about medicinal plants? I was paying attention. And Danzo's notes on chakra-affecting vegetation? Very enlightening reading."

Naruto's jaw dropped slightly, though he caught himself and resumed his careful pose. "You mean all that nonsense about desert sage affecting chakra coils was real?"

"The best deceptions, kid, are built on absolute truth. We just..." Jiraiya waved his hand vaguely, "present it with style."

Like those months you made me practice different walking patterns, Naruto thought, remembering endless drills. Learning to move like someone who'd never trained as a shinobi, to hold chopsticks wrong, to forget basic skills we'd have to carefully 'learn' later.

"Speaking of style," Jiraiya continued, his voice dropping into the rougher accent of 'Shiro,' "the meeting's in three hours. Time to prepare."

"What? Today?" Real panic crept into Naruto's voice before he caught himself, channeling chakra the way they'd practiced - not for jutsu, but for the subtle modulation of his vocal cords. When he spoke again, his voice carried the slightly higher pitch they'd developed for Menma.

"What do I do? What if they ask me questions? What if -"

"You," Jiraiya cut him off firmly, "will do exactly what a merchant's assistant should do. Stand quietly. Look attentive but not too interested. Speak only if directly addressed, and then with utmost respect."

His eyes held Naruto's with unusual intensity.

"Let me do the talking. No matter what you hear or see in that chamber, maintain your role."

Naruto swallowed hard but nodded. Two years of training kicked in as he straightened his posture, adjusted his expression to careful subservience. He channeled chakra through the pathways they'd mapped during countless practice sessions, letting it reshape his voice, his mannerisms, his very presence.

"Yes, Master Shiro," he said softly, the words carrying just the right mix of respect and timidity.

Not just a verbal response, but a complete transformation into the role they'd crafted so carefully.

"Good." Jiraiya stood, already shifting into his own performance. The change was subtle but profound - the legendary Sannin disappearing beneath layers of carefully constructed mannerisms.

"Now help me look as harmlessly mercantile as possible. We have a council to impress."

And hopefully, he thought, watching his student maintain perfect character even while gathering their breakfast dishes, all those months of practicing different personalities will pay off.

The morning sun climbed higher over Suna's walls as master and student prepared for their most dangerous performance yet. Everything hinged on the next few hours - their cover, their mission, their chance to save Gaara.

"Remember," Jiraiya murmured as they began their preparations, "what I taught you about maintaining character?"

"Every movement tells a story," Naruto recited, his voice still pitched in Menma's higher register. "Every gesture either supports or betrays your chosen role." He demonstrated by adjusting his stance, letting his shoulders curl forward slightly - the posture of someone who had never known a fighter's confidence.

"No detail is too small."

"Good," Jiraiya nodded, watching his student move through the practiced transformations. "You've come far from the boy who thought a sexy jutsu and some paint made a good disguise."

They shared a brief smile at the memory, but quickly resumed their careful masks. The stakes were too high now for anything less than perfection.

 

HOURS LATER…

The Kazekage Complex sprawled before them like something from the stories Naruto used to read as a child - all sweeping arches and intricate stonework that somehow defied the desert's harsh conditions.

Unlike the practical, almost militant design of the Hokage's building, this was a palace worthy of the title 'Hidden Village's Heart.'

Focus, he reminded himself, realizing he'd been staring too openly at the architectural wonders around them.

You're Menma. You've never seen anything grander than a merchant's house. Act impressed, but not awestruck.

"Amazing craftsmanship," Master Shiro commented beside him, perfectly playing the appreciative trader. "The way they've incorporated traditional desert building techniques..."

Naruto let his mentor's practiced observations wash over him, providing cover for his own carefully measured glances. Every window, every guard position, every possible exit - all noted while maintaining the wide-eyed wonder of a simple assistant.

The sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the corridor, and Naruto felt his entire body go rigid.

Two years of training screamed at him to maintain his cover, but fifteen years of being Naruto Uzumaki warred against the disguise as he recognized those gaits - Temari's confident stride, Kankuro's slightly heavier footfalls from the weight of his puppet scrolls.

No no no, he thought, his heart threatening to burst through his chest. Not them. Not now. Not when we're so close.

Every muscle in his body wanted to react, to show some sign of recognition. His hands twitched with the memory of sharing meals with them, fighting alongside them, all those moments before the world had turned so dark. For a fraction of a second, he was that boy again - loud, determined, wearing his heart on his sleeve.

The subtle tap of Jiraiya's cane against stone snapped him back.

Menma, he commanded himself, forcing his shoulders to curl inward, his posture to shrink.

You're Menma. An assistant.

You've never fought in the Chunin exams.

Never shared victory meals. Never knew them when they were just siblings trying to understand their brother.

A nobody.

He could feel Jiraiya's careful attention beside him, monitoring every micro-expression, every tell that might give them away.

The lessons rang in his mind: Let the emotion flow through you, then release it. Like handling the Nine-Tails' chakra - acknowledge, then redirect.

Their footsteps grew closer. Naruto fixed his eyes on the intricate floor patterns, adopting the carefully practiced pose of a servant making way for their betters. His fingers trembled slightly, but he tucked them into his sleeves - a gesture they'd developed to hide such moments of weakness.

Just another face in the crowd, he thought desperately. Just another shadow in their daily lives.

But then Temari and Kankuro rounded the corner, and despite all his training, despite every careful preparation, his control slipped just enough to meet her eyes before dropping his gaze.

For a heartbeat, time seemed to crystallize around that accidental eye contact. Temari's teal eyes widened almost imperceptibly - not quite recognition, but something close. A flicker of confusion, like trying to remember a face from a dream.

Look down look down look down, Naruto chanted internally, his pulse roaring in his ears. But that split second had felt like an eternity. He saw the subtle changes in her - hair slightly longer, fan decorated with new battle marks, the way she carried herself with more authority. His heart ached to see his friends again, to drop this charade and just...

No. Menma. Be Menma.

He forced his head down, adopting the perfect pose of deference they'd practiced countless times in hidden caves and remote inns. His hands remained tucked in his sleeves, desperately gripping the fabric to stay steady. Each of their footsteps as they passed felt like thunder in his ears.

A subtle shift in Temari's stride - had she slowed? Was she looking back? He didn't dare raise his head to check. Jiraiya's presence beside him felt like an anchor, reminding him of everything at stake.

"That boy..." Temari's voice carried a note of something - uncertainty? Memory? - that made his stomach clench. "His eyes seemed... familiar somehow."

She knows, panic flared in his chest. She must know. How could she not know? After everything we-

"You're imagining things," Kankuro's dismissal cut through his spiral of fear. "Come on, we're late for training."

Their footsteps resumed, growing fainter. Every muscle in Naruto's body screamed to turn around, to catch one last glimpse of his friends. Instead, he maintained Menma's careful posture, matching his stride to Jiraiya's as they continued toward the council chambers.

Just breathe, he reminded himself, using the techniques they'd developed to handle moments like this. In for four counts, hold for seven, out for eight. Stay in character. Stay alive.

But something inside him felt cracked open, raw. He'd prepared for many things - guards, interrogation, even combat. But nothing had prepared him for the simple agony of being a stranger to people who had once fought by his side.

"The council chamber is just ahead," Master Shiro commented casually, but Naruto caught the subtle warning in his tone. These next moments would test everything they'd trained for.

Who are you? he asked himself, reinforcing his disguise with each step.

Menma, came the careful answer. Just Menma. Assistant. Nobody. Nothing more.

The lingering warmth of Temari's confused recognition followed him like a shadow as they approached the imposing council doors, reminding him that some bonds couldn't be completely buried, no matter how deep the disguise.

Guards materialized from the shadows of the corridor, their movements precise and controlled. Like puppets on strings, Naruto thought as they were escorted deeper into the Kazekage Fortress.

The afternoon sun streamed through high windows, painting the sandstone walls in shades of amber and gold. Everything here carried an air of formality that made the Hokage's office seem almost casual in comparison - sweeping archways, intricate tapestries, the weight of ancient authority in every carefully placed stone.

But it feels so empty, he realized, remembering how Konoha's administration building had always buzzed with life. Shizune rushing through halls with stacks of papers, Iruka-sensei dropping off mission reports, Sakura's laughter echoing down corridors...

His heart clenched, but he forced the memories away.

Those bonds don't exist anymore, he reminded himself. Can't exist anymore. I'm not that person now.

"Missing your precious village?" the Nine-Tails stirred, its voice dripping with mock sympathy. "The place that would have hollowed you out like they did your friend? How touching."

I have what I need, Naruto countered, his eyes flickering briefly to Jiraiya's steady presence beside him. A teacher. A purpose. Even you, when you're not being insufferable.

The Fox's laughter rumbled through his mind.

"Such loyalty to the old fool. And to me? How desperate you must be, counting a sealed demon among your friends."

Better a demon I know than people who'd cage us both, he thought, then caught himself.

When had he started thinking of them as 'us'?

The Nine-Tails fell silent at that, but Naruto felt its unease mirror his own.

Neither of them quite knew what to make of their strange alliance born of shared survival.

The council chambers opened to reveal a vast circular room, its domed ceiling adorned with intricate patterns that seemed to shift in the filtered sunlight. But Naruto barely registered the architectural beauty, his careful Menma-posture threatening to slip as a familiar face greeted them.

"Welcome to the Kazekage's council chambers," the man said, the cloth covering half his face doing little to hide his sharp assessment of them. "I am Baki, senior advisor to the Kazekage."

Gaara's teacher, Naruto's mind raced even as he maintained his deferential stance. The one who trained them all. Who stood beside them during the Chunin exams. His fingers clenched inside his sleeves, but he kept his eyes appropriately lowered.

"Most honored," Master Shiro bowed, his merchant's persona perfect in its humble enthusiasm. "We are grateful for this audience."

Baki's visible eye studied them both carefully - too carefully? Had Temari already mentioned their encounter? - before gesturing them to follow. They walked through corridors that spoke of power and tradition, each step carrying them deeper into what felt increasingly like a trap.

Stay calm, Naruto ordered himself as they approached another set of doors. Whatever's behind there, stay in character. Remember the training. Remember-

All thought stopped as the doors opened.

The conference room beyond was clearly meant to intimidate - high windows casting strategic shadows, the massive table of polished stone that could have seated twenty but now held only two figures.

One was clearly Ibuki Shirogane, his elegant robes and calculating expression marking him as the puppet master they'd heard whispers about.

But it was the other figure that made Naruto's careful control nearly shatter.

Gaara sat at the head of the table, Kazekage robes perfect in their stillness, hands folded with unnatural precision. In their planning, in all their careful preparations, they'd never expected to face him directly.

Not here. Not like this.

Breathe, Naruto desperately remembered their training.

Four counts in. Seven hold. Eight out. His hands trembled inside his sleeves, but he forced them still, forced his posture to remain appropriately cowed.

"Ah, the herbalist," Ibuki's voice carried practiced warmth that didn't reach his eyes. "We've been quite interested in your... unique perspective on medicinal applications."

Naruto felt Jiraiya bow beside him and hastily followed suit, keeping his eyes firmly on the floor. But he could feel Gaara's presence like a physical weight, could sense the wrongness of his perfectly controlled chakra.

"You honor us greatly," Master Shiro replied, his voice carrying exactly the right mix of enthusiasm and nervousness. "Especially with the Kazekage himself present! We had no expectation-"

"Lord Gaara takes great interest in anything that might benefit his village," Ibuki cut in smoothly. "Please, be seated. We have much to discuss."

As they took their assigned seats - carefully positioned where both Ibuki and Gaara could observe them - Naruto fought to maintain his disguise. Everything in him screamed to look directly at his friend, to search those empty eyes for any sign of the person he'd known.

Instead, he kept his pose humble, his eyes lowered, playing the perfect assistant while his heart threatened to beat out of his chest.

This changes everything, he thought, feeling the weight of multiple gazes on them. All our plans, all our preparation...

But Jiraiya's subtle hand signal under the table carried clear warning: Stay in character. No matter what.

The game had just become infinitely more dangerous, and they were already committed to playing it through.

AT THE SAME TIME…

Two years of careful preparation hadn't prepared Jiraiya for this - Gaara sitting mere feet away, every movement precise as clockwork.

Not just controlled, he thought, maintaining his merchant's carefully constructed smile.

Converted. Like watching someone's soul being replaced with machinery.

The boy's eyes held nothing, not even the cold calculation of a trained killer. Just... emptiness, programmed to display exactly what his handlers wanted.

Every gesture seemed perfectly timed - the way his hands rested on the table at exactly thirty-degree angles, how his breathing maintained a rhythm so precise it made Jiraiya's skin crawl.

Even his chakra moved wrong, flowing through artificial channels that seemed etched into his very being. Like watching a painting of a person, Jiraiya thought. Perfect in form, utterly devoid of life.

A female jonin slithered toward their position, tea tray balanced with unnatural grace. Her movements carried that same mechanical precision, but somehow worse - as if she'd chosen to adopt it rather than having it forced upon her. "Some refreshment, honored guest?"

"No, thank you," Jiraiya replied with practiced politeness, though his skin crawled at her too-smooth approach. "We've just eaten."

And I didn't survive three wars by accepting drinks in enemy territory.

He watched her retreat to her position by the door with that same unsettling fluidity, like water flowing backward.

Everything here moves wrong, he realized, maintaining his merchant's facade while his trained senses screamed warnings.

Every person in the room except Baki seemed to operate on invisible tracks, their movements too perfect to be natural. Even the air felt regulated, as if someone had programmed the very atmosphere to maintain optimal conditions.

He focused instead on Ibuki Shirogane, measuring every carefully chosen word of their discussion about trade routes and medicinal supplies. This meeting was supposed to be a simple intelligence gathering operation - get a sense of Sand's political landscape, understand what they were truly facing.

But Gaara's presence changed everything. The young Kazekage's condition spoke of techniques far beyond what their intelligence had suggested.

This wasn't just control - it was transformation at the deepest level.

Something familiar about this, he thought, studying the young Kazekage's movements. Not quite Danzo's protocols - this was something older, something that tickled the edges of his memory from decades of intelligence work.

The way Gaara's chakra flowed in those precise geometric patterns... It reminded him of something he'd seen long ago, during the Third War perhaps. Some forbidden technique that had been sealed away for good reason.

His eyes flickered briefly to Baki, noting the tension in the jonin's stance. The man stood like someone carrying an invisible wound, his visible eye never straying far from his former student.

Naruto said we could trust him, he remembered. But where do his true loyalties lie? To his student, or to his village?

The way Baki watched Gaara carried an edge of carefully concealed pain that seemed promising. Like watching a father forced to witness his child's systematic destruction.

Every subtle shift in Baki's posture when Gaara moved, every barely perceptible flinch when Ibuki issued commands - it all painted a picture of someone suffering silently.

He's fighting something internal, Jiraiya realized. Some battle between duty and conscience. That kind of conflict could be useful, if handled carefully. But it could also be deadly if misread.

The variables kept multiplying, each observation adding new layers of complexity to their already dangerous mission. This wasn't just about saving one boy anymore - they were witnessing something that could reshape the entire shinobi world if left unchecked.

Whatever they've done here, Jiraiya thought grimly, it goes far beyond anything we expected.

"My connections in Frost Country," Jiraiya continued smoothly, dropping names from his unpublished novels' character lists, "particularly Madam Yukihana and her associate Lord Touketsu, have expressed great interest in desert remedies."

His hands moved in practiced patterns as he spoke - seemingly natural gestures that actually mapped the room's dimensions, noting guard positions and exit routes.

He caught Naruto's slight double-take at the familiar names and mentally praised the boy's control when he quickly resumed his assistant's pose.

Good. He remembers those practice readings. Those endless nights going over draft chapters weren't just for my writing after all. Each fictional character they'd discussed now served as a coded reference point, building their cover story one careful lie at a time.

But most of his attention remained on Gaara, his merchant's prattle masking razor-sharp observation. Every movement seemed to require some subtle prompt - a slight tilt of Ibuki's head triggered Gaara's left hand to shift exactly three centimeters, a carefully pitched word caused his breathing to adjust by fractions.

Like watching a puppet master's practice session, Jiraiya thought, cataloging each trigger and response. The proud boy who had fought Naruto was gone, replaced by something that moved with mechanical precision.

Ibuki's satisfaction radiated from every elegant gesture, each word carrying the pride of an artist displaying his greatest work.

He wants to show off, Jiraiya realized, recognizing the familiar vanity of those who believed they'd achieved perfection. That's an exploitable weakness.

This could work in our favor, he calculated, though the thought made his stomach turn. If we can understand his programming, map the command patterns...

But he cut that thought short.

One step at a time.

First establish their cover, build their network, gather intelligence. The rescue would come later. Much later, after they understood exactly what they were trying to undo.

"A pharmacy would benefit the village greatly," Ibuki was saying, his elegant gestures carrying too much satisfaction. "Though naturally, we'd need to discuss proper oversight..." Each word seemed chosen to display his authority, his control over the situation.

Jiraiya nodded along, playing his role perfectly while his mind raced through possibilities. His eyes tracked the subtle seals barely visible at Gaara's temples - not standard control matrices, but something more sophisticated. The chakra flow followed precise geometric patterns, reminiscent of ancient puppet techniques he'd seen documented in forbidden scrolls.

Every detail mattered now. The way energy pulsed through those seals in exact intervals. The precise timing between Gaara's responses and Ibuki's prompts.

Even the unsettling grace of that tea-bearing jonin spoke of a system far more pervasive than they'd anticipated.

They're not just controlling him, Jiraiya realized. They're rewriting the very nature of what he is.

He kept his merchant's smile firmly in place as he spun elaborate tales about trade routes and medicinal connections, each word carefully chosen to build their cover while his trained senses mapped every detail of the room. The guards' rotation patterns. The slight delay in the ventilation system that might provide audio cover. The way Ibuki's chakra fluctuated when issuing commands - suggesting the control system required significant energy to maintain.

Pay attention, kid, he thought, sensing Naruto's carefully controlled tension beside him. This is how we'll save your friend - not with power, but with patience. Watch everything. Note everything. Every detail could be the key we need.

They had survived two years as fugitives by adapting, by turning every situation to their advantage. Each new identity they'd crafted, each careful deception, had prepared them for moments like this.

But sitting in the heart of enemy territory, watching a friend turned puppet while building their latest lie, Jiraiya wondered if even their extensive preparation would prove enough.

One wrong word, he thought, maintaining his cheerful discussion of profit margins. One slip in our performance, and we're not just dead - we lose any chance of stopping this from spreading.

Because this wasn't just about saving one boy anymore.

Whatever they'd done to Gaara represented a fundamental shift in how villages might control their weapons.

Even if it meant maintaining this charade while everything in him screamed to act, they had to understand exactly what they were facing. The fate of more than just one Jinchūriki might depend on it.

AN HOUR LATER…

The setting sun painted Suna's streets in shades of blood and shadow as Baki watched the two figures grow smaller in the distance.

Like watching sand slip through fingers, he thought, noting how naturally they blended into the evening crowd.

For supposed merchants, they moved with surprising grace. The boy especially - his posture seemed too carefully constructed, as if he'd practiced appearing ordinary until it became a performance in itself.

Something about their movement patterns, Baki realized. Not quite shinobi-trained, but too precise for civilians.

The way they maintained perfect awareness of each other's position while appearing completely casual. How they never quite turned their backs to the fortress, even while seeming to pay it no attention at all.

The wind whipped around them atop the Kazekage Fortress, but Gaara remained perfectly still beside them, his robes unnaturally static. Only his head moved, tilting upward when addressed, lowering when silent - a mechanical response that made Baki's chest ache with each iteration.

Like watching a child's toy, he thought bitterly. Wind it up and watch it dance.

The seals at Gaara's temples pulsed with subtle chakra, maintaining whatever abomination they called control. Even the sand in his gourd remained motionless - that automatic defense that had once moved like a living thing, now as lifeless as ordinary desert grains. The sight made bile rise in Baki's throat.

"Your thoughts on our visitors, Baki?" Ibuki's voice carried that artificial warmth that had become all too familiar. Each word seemed chosen to display authority while maintaining a facade of collegiality.

"The old man seems a likely fraud," Baki replied carefully, measuring each word. "His knowledge appears superficial, though well-presented. Likely running some manner of scheme."

Though his eyes moved too precisely for a simple merchant. Caught every detail, mapped every exit.

He'd seen that kind of careful observation before - in elite intelligence operatives, in ANBU captains, in those who survived by noticing everything.

Ibuki's laugh held no real mirth.

"Fraud and politics often walk hand in hand, my friend. Even charlatans have their uses." His elegant fingers traced patterns in the air as he spoke. "They can be purchased. Directed. Used for greater purposes."

Like you used Gaara? Baki wanted to snarl. The memory rose unbidden - council meetings where they'd discussed "disciplining" the boy, "controlling" his power. He remembered Gaara's face when he'd first expressed desire to protect the village, that fragile hope that had started to bloom.

How quickly those discussions had transformed into something darker when they realized Gaara's potential for genuine leadership.

A child who could have changed everything, he thought, watching his former student's empty eyes. Turned into nothing but a puppet wearing the Kazekage's robes.

The council had spoken of necessity, of security, of ensuring their weapon couldn't turn against them. But Baki had seen the truth in Ibuki's eyes - the satisfaction of an artist creating his masterpiece, regardless of the cost to the material he shaped.

"What do you think, my dear?" Ibuki asked the apparently empty air. "Share your... unique perspective."

Baki's training barely kept him from flinching as the tea-serving woman materialized beside them. Her movement wasn't a jutsu - it was as if she'd been there all along, existing in some space between reality and shadow. He hadn't sensed her presence at all, not even a whisper of chakra. But that wasn't what made his blood run cold.

Her face seemed to melt, features flowing like wax until they revealed something far more terrifying - pale skin, serpentine eyes, a smile that had haunted shinobi nightmares for decades. The very air seemed to grow colder, heavier with killing intent that made Baki's combat instincts scream warnings.

"Without question," Orochimaru's voice carried amused certainty, "that's Jiraiya and his little runaway fox."

The words struck Baki like physical blows.

Naruto? The same boy who fought Gaara? Who showed him another path? His mind raced through implications. They'd actually returned - whether from courage or foolishness, they'd walked straight into this viper's nest.

"Fascinating," Ibuki's eyes gleamed with disturbing interest. "Should we move to capture them now?"

"Why such haste?" Orochimaru's tongue flicked out, tasting the air. "Young Naruto has such... potential. It would be a waste to simply cage him." His serpentine eyes studied Gaara like an artist admiring his masterpiece. "After all, your methods have proven quite effective. Why not add another perfect weapon to Suna's arsenal?"

"Ah yes," Ibuki's satisfaction radiated like poison. "Speaking of effectiveness - Baki, I believe it's time you were properly introduced to our... benefactor. After all, you've proven yourself an invaluable handler for Gaara."

Handler. The word made bile rise in Baki's throat. Is that what I am now? Not a teacher, not a protector - just another link in the chain that binds him?

"Your work with the boy has been... exemplary," Orochimaru purred. "Such dedication to severing emotional attachments. Understanding that weapons require maintenance, not sentiment."

Baki kept his face carefully blank even as rage burned in his chest.

Have you all forgotten? he wanted to scream. This is the snake who manipulated us into attacking Konoha. Who used our village like puppets in his game.

The fragile peace they'd rebuilt after that betrayal still felt new, barely tested.

And now we're inviting the serpent back into our nest?

"The methods passed down from Danzo had... potential," Orochimaru mused, circling Gaara's still form like a predator studying prey. "But they lacked finesse. Too focused on suppression rather than true control. Crude attempts to cage rather than convert."

Ibuki nodded, his elegant robes catching the dying sunlight.

"Indeed. His protocols were merely the foundation. The integration of your Curse Mark principles with our clan's puppetry techniques has proven far more... elegant."

So that's the connection, Baki thought, forcing his face to remain impassive despite the horror building in his chest. Danzo's containment protocols, Orochimaru's corrupting chakra, and the Shirogane's puppet mastery - all twisted together into this abomination.

"Young Naruto presents unique opportunities," Orochimaru continued, his tongue flicking out to taste the air. "The Nine-Tails' chakra is volatile, yes, but properly channeled..." His serpentine eyes gleamed with disturbing interest.

"Combined with your modified seals and my enhanced Curse Mark, we could create something unprecedented. A weapon that harnesses both demonic chakra and perfect control."

Baki watched Gaara's empty eyes, remembering how they had once burned with determination to protect his village. Is this what protection has come to mean? he wondered bitterly. Turning children into perfectly controlled weapons?

"The boy's own healing factor would make him an ideal test subject," Ibuki observed, his fingers tracing patterns in the air that made Gaara's head tilt at precise angles. "We could push the boundaries further than we dared with Gaara. The Nine-Tails' regenerative properties would allow for more... aggressive applications."

"Precisely." Orochimaru's smile widened impossibly. "Imagine it - a weapon with unlimited chakra reserves, perfect obedience, and the ability to recover from any damage inflicted during the conversion process. The seals could be etched deeper, the control matrix made absolute."

They discussed methodology with clinical detachment - chakra suppression rates, neural pathway modifications, the optimal balance between consciousness and compliance.

Each word drove the knife deeper into Baki's conscience, but he maintained his careful mask of attention.

They're talking about destroying everything that makes him human, he realized. Not just controlling him, but rewriting his very nature.

"Of course," Orochimaru added, running one pale finger along Gaara's unresponsive cheek, "we'll need to be prepared for... resistance. The boy's will is remarkably strong. Breaking it completely will require precision."

"Our methods have evolved significantly," Ibuki replied with disturbing pride. "The combination of your Curse Mark variants with our enhanced puppet seals allows for complete neural rewiring. We don't just break their will - we replace it entirely."

Gaara's head tilted down again, responding to some invisible prompt, and Baki watched his former student's empty eyes with growing desperation.

Hold on, he thought, though he knew the boy couldn't hear him. Whatever's left of you in there, hold on.

He remembered Gaara's voice when he'd first expressed desire to protect others, to be more than just a weapon. That fragile hope had been so precious, so new.

Now all that remained was this hollow shell, moving to commands etched into his very being.

"You're dismissed, Baki," Ibuki waved elegantly. "We have much to discuss regarding our new... opportunity."

Baki bowed and turned away, each step measured despite the trembling in his soul. Behind him, he could hear them beginning to plan Naruto's systematic destruction, discussing methodologies with the casual interest of craftsmen comparing tools.

The sun sank below the horizon, leaving them in growing darkness that seemed fitting for such conversations. Somewhere in the streets below, a boy who had once saved his friend from loneliness walked unknowingly toward a fate worse than death. And Baki, who had failed one student so completely, wondered if he dared risk trying to save another.

Or perhaps, a quiet voice whispered in his mind, this is the chance to save them both.

The night air hit his face like a physical blow as he descended the tower. His mind raced through implications - Orochimaru's involvement explained so much about how completely they'd broken Gaara. But it also meant something else, something that made hope flicker dangerously in his chest.

If anyone can break whatever they've done to him, he thought, remembering another young boy who'd defied impossible odds, it would be Naruto.

The same child who'd shown Gaara another path had returned, walking knowingly or unknowingly into darkness to save his friend.

But that hope twisted immediately into dread. Because if they succeeded in capturing Naruto - if they managed to do to him what they'd done to Gaara - then no one would be left to save either of them.

What do I do? he wondered, watching the last rays of sun fade from Suna's walls. Where does duty end and conscience begin?

He had no answers. Only the cold certainty that tomorrow would bring choices he'd been avoiding far too long.

AROUND THE SAME TIME…

A bowl of mediocre ramen, Naruto thought grimly, poking at noodles that seemed to wilt under his chopsticks.

Nothing like Ichiraku's perfect balance of broth and texture. Just another reminder of everything he'd left behind.

Maybe it's time to try something else. Can't keep comparing every bowl to home.

His stomach twisted with both hunger and homesickness - even the worst day at Ichiraku's had been better than this pale imitation.

The afternoon's meeting played through his mind on repeat. Two years of training had paid off - he'd maintained Menma's careful posture, kept his eyes appropriately lowered, remembered every detail of their cover story.

But seeing Gaara like that... The memory of those empty eyes, that mechanical precision in every movement, made his hands tremble around his chopsticks.

The Nine-Tails stirred restlessly.

"Missing your friend?" it mocked. "The one you left behind while you ran and hid?"

Shut up, Naruto thought firmly, though the guilt churned in his stomach worse than the subpar ramen. I should have done something. Should have found a way to save him back then, before they turned him into... that.

But what could he have done? He remembered the council chamber in Konoha, how easily they'd dismissed his voice, how even Tsunade's defense had meant nothing in the end.

The memory of that day still burned - standing alone while they discussed him like a weapon to be maintained, watching supposed friends and allies stay silent as they prepared to strip away his will.

Now, he had only Jiraiya - his last precious person, the closest thing to family he had left. The thought made his chest tight. One wrong move, one slip in their performance, and he could lose even that.

"You still think you can save anyone?" the Fox's voice dripped with bitter amusement. "Look what they did to him while you were learning to play dress-up. Look what they'll do to others while you sit here eating bad noodles."

We have to be smart about this, Naruto countered, though the words felt hollow even in his mind.

Jiraiya's whispered words from their walk echoed: "Keep it up, kid. We need time to understand what they've done to him. Can't save anyone if we're dead."

The grocery bag beside him held their meager supplies - just enough for a few days. His sadly depleted frog wallet couldn't handle much more. They'd spent most of their funds just securing lodging and establishing their merchant cover.

At least that cover might give us some income, he mused. If we can maintain it long enough...

His fingers traced the edge of his bowl, remembering countless meals shared with friends who now wouldn't even recognize him.

No, he corrected himself. Who couldn't be allowed to recognize him.

Everything had changed - not just his appearance or his name, but his very way of existing in the world. No more charging in headfirst, no more shouting about never giving up. Even his dreams had to change, become something quieter, more dangerous.

But maybe, he thought, staring into the mediocre broth, that's what growing up really means. Learning when to fight, and when to wait. Learning how to save people without losing everything in the process.

The Nine-Tails' laughter echoed through his mind. "Such wisdom from my little runaway. But how long can you maintain this patience while they turn more of your precious people into puppets?"

Naruto had no answer for that. He just kept eating the subpar ramen, each bite a reminder of everything he'd left behind, and everything he still had to lose.

"Yo, another bowl, keep it flowing! Your noodles might be slow, but they keep me going!"

The sudden voice beside him made Naruto stiffen slightly. A dark-skinned man had claimed the next seat, wearing sunglasses despite the setting sun. Something about him feels different, Naruto thought, studying the stranger from behind his careful mask of timidity. Everything about him seemed to move to some internal rhythm, completely at odds with Suna's mechanical precision.

"First time in Suna?" the stranger asked, turning toward Naruto. "Your threads tell me you're a wanderer too, that's true!"

Was I made?

Panic fluttered in Naruto's chest before his training kicked in. Stay calm. Be Menma. His hands wanted to tremble, but he forced them steady, remembering countless drills in cave hideouts. Shy. Uncertain. Nobody important.

The Nine-Tails stirred with unusual interest. "Something about this one..." it muttered, but fell silent before completing the thought.

"The name's Killer Bee!" The man grinned, extending a fist. "Traveling swordsman, that's me!" There was something almost familiar about his chakra signature, though Naruto couldn't quite place it. It felt... contained, but not in Suna's artificial way.

Naruto couldn't help but snort, though he quickly adjusted it to Menma's higher pitch. "Killer Bee? That's really your name?"

"As real as the sun in the sky! Now how about you, new guy?"

Something about the man's enthusiasm felt genuine, lacking the careful precision Naruto had seen in Suna's shinobi. His hand moved before he could stop it, bumping fists with the stranger. The moment their knuckles touched, he felt something - a spark of recognition, a flash of shared understanding that made no sense.

The Nine-Tails' chakra surged briefly before Naruto could suppress it. What was that? he wondered, maintaining his careful smile while his mind raced.

"Menma," he replied, remembering to pitch his voice slightly higher, fighting down whatever that strange connection had been. "Just... passing through."

"Then let's pass through together, fool!" Bee's grin widened. "First time in this sandy place, could use a new face!"

Behind those sunglasses, something flickered - too quick to catch, but enough to make Naruto's instincts hum with warning.

What are the odds, Naruto thought, studying the unusual swordsman. Another traveler, right when we need to build connections?

But something about Bee's easy manner made him want to relax, just a little. That fist bump had felt like... like finding an echo of something he thought he'd left behind.

Just remember, he told himself firmly, I'm Menma now. No matter how friendly anyone seems.

But the Nine-Tails' unusual interest, that spark of recognition - it all suggested something more complex than a simple chance encounter.

The Fox's silence spoke volumes. Usually quick to mock any potential friendship, now it seemed almost... thoughtful.

As if it too sensed something familiar in this strange rapper with his too-careful rhythm.

End.

What an ending, right.

Dark and twisted it most certainly was, but don’t worry guys, things will look up for them.

Now I don’t want to accidentally spoil anything, so I’ll let you all go.

More Chapters are posted on my patreon Feel free to check it out lads, here's the link

https://www.patreon.com/c/Demon_Knight939

Take care lads.

Peace.

Chapter 8: chapter 8

Hi everyone.

Chapter 8 right here.

Please enjoy.

Start:

The desert sun beat mercilessly against Naruto's back as he wandered through Suna's market district, maintaining Menma's carefully constructed posture of mild interest. Each step felt measured, precise - nothing like his old bouncing energy.

Two years of running really changes a person, he mused, studying merchant stalls with practiced casualness while his trained senses mapped patrol patterns.

For the past two hours, Bee had been showing him around Suna's winding streets, his enthusiastic rapping providing perfect cover for Naruto's careful observations.

Third patrol in fifteen minutes, he noted, watching another unit pass with that unsettling precision. Always six guards, always that same mechanical stride. Like they're counting steps in their heads.

The villagers' reactions told their own story. Merchants who suddenly found reason to reorganize their wares, children who disappeared into doorways, conversations that died mid-word - all carefully timed, as if they'd rehearsed these disappearing acts.

They're not just afraid, Naruto realized. They've been trained to be afraid.

Everything here feels wrong, he thought, watching another group of villagers clear the street as guards approached. Their movements carried that same mechanical precision he'd seen in the council chambers. Like puppets dancing on invisible strings.

Even the timing of market deliveries felt regulated - each cart arriving at exactly scheduled intervals, their drivers moving with unnatural coordination.

Jiraiya had drilled this into him during their years of hiding - look for patterns in everything. The way people walked, how they avoided certain areas, which shadows they chose for conversations.

Every detail could reveal the invisible machinery of control. He's going to want to know about those guard rotations, Naruto thought. And those strange seals I spotted on the water towers. Something about the way chakra flows through them feels...wrong.

"Yo, my wandering friend! Lost in thought's dead end?"

The voice nearly made him jump. Bee materialized beside him, moving with that strange internal rhythm that seemed to defy Suna's artificial order.

I totally forgot he was here, Naruto realized, quickly adjusting his posture to match Menma's more timid personality. For a moment, he worried his careful observation had been too obvious.

"Just... taking in the sights," he replied carefully, pitching his voice higher. But something about Bee's presence made maintaining the act harder.

That strange connection they'd felt yesterday at the ramen stand still lingered, like recognizing a reflection in disturbed water. The way Bee moved felt like a challenge to Suna's carefully ordered world - his rhythm organic, unpredictable, almost deliberately chaotic.

The Nine-Tails stirred restlessly.

"Something about him feels..." it muttered, but fell silent again, as if unsure how to complete the thought. Its unusual hesitation made Naruto's skin prickle with warning.

The Fox had never been uncertain about anything before.

Focus, he reminded himself, forcing his attention back to their surroundings. Note everything. Remember everything. Every detail could mean the difference between saving Gaara and joining him in that puppet dance.

“Help!”

A commotion near the western quarter drew their attention. Guards moved with unnaturally synchronized steps, pursuing a figure that darted between market stalls with desperate grace. At some point she passed him, leaving a cold breeze in her wake that made Naruto double take, stare at the figure now being pursued by the other guards.

What caught Naruto's eye wasn't just her speed, but the way frost seemed to trail in her wake, crystallizing on surfaces she touched, transforming the desert heat into delicate patterns of ice that melted almost instantly in the sun.

Ice techniques?

In the desert?

The contrast felt jarring, like finding snowflakes in summer.

But there's something different about this chakra, he noted, his senses honed by two years of survival.

The ice didn't feel forced or molded like normal techniques - it flowed from her as naturally as breathing.

The girl - probably around his age - had long white hair that seemed to catch the sunlight like fresh snow, flowing behind her as she wove through the crowd with practiced efficiency. But it was her eyes that made his breath catch - they held a familiar kind of fear. The same terror he'd seen in his own reflection when they'd tried to cage him.

That's not just fear of capture, he realized. That's the fear of being unmade.

"I'm not one of them!" she screamed, her voice carrying notes of both defiance and desperation as she vaulted over a merchant's cart, frost spreading where her hands touched.

"I'm just a traveler! My name is Mirajane - I'm just Mirajane!"

The desperation in her voice hit something deep in Naruto's chest, memories of his own pleas echoing back.

But even through his sympathy, his trained eye caught the inconsistencies in her movements - the way she pulled her strikes at the last moment, how her footwork followed training patterns she seemed to be actively trying to forget.

A spin that started with deadly precision but deliberately fumbled at the end. A dodge that showed years of practice being intentionally made clumsy.

She's had formal training, he realized. But she's fighting like someone trying to pretend they never learned how. Like someone trying to hide what they really are.

"Stop her!" A guard's voice carried that artificial precision that made his skin crawl, the same mechanical tone he'd heard in the council chambers. "The specimen must not escape containment!"

Specimen.

The word hit Naruto like a physical blow, memories of Danzo's cold proclamations flooding back. The clinical way they'd discussed his "reconditioning," as if he were a tool to be reprogrammed rather than a person. His hands wanted to clench, but he forced them to remain relaxed, fingers deliberately loose at his sides.

Stay in character. Remember the training.

Menma would be afraid right now, not angry.

The girl stumbled, panic clear in her movements as more guards emerged from side streets, their coordinated approach cutting off escape routes with mathematical precision. Ice crystals began forming along her arms, spreading like living frost across her skin. A wisp of cold air puffed from the upward ponytail at the top of her head.

 

For a moment, her features seemed to shift - becoming somehow more feral, more bestial, a hint of wolf-like aspects bleeding through her human form before she forced them back to normalcy with visible effort.

Some kind of transformation technique? Naruto wondered, fascination warring with caution. But there was something different about it - not quite like his own transformations, or even the Beast Mimicry of the Inuzuka clan.

This felt more... natural.

As if her body simply remembered other shapes it could wear, like changing clothes rather than forcing a new form.

She's not using chakra to transform, he realized with growing amazement. Her body just... knows how to be something else.

Before he could process further, Bee moved.

The self-proclaimed traveling swordsman's cloak billowed open, revealing an arsenal that made Naruto's eyes widen - eight swords, strapped across his back in a pattern that seemed impossible to draw smoothly. The blades themselves looked unique, each one subtly different in length and curve, arranged like an instrument waiting to play death's symphony.

Yet Bee's hands found two blades with practiced ease, his movements flowing like water given form.

"Fool, ya fool!" Bee called out, his voice carrying that strange rhythmic quality even in battle. "Time to show these puppet-men how a real sword can flow!"

His blades whirled in perfect synchronization with his words, each strike following the cadence of his internal music.

He's a master swordsman, Naruto realized, watching Bee's blades dance in their lethal rhythm. The way he moved defied everything Naruto had learned about sword fighting - there was no wasted motion, no traditional forms or stances.

Each strike flowed into the next like a deadly song, the blades extensions of Bee's own relentless rhythm. The guards' mechanical precision proved worse than useless against such fluid unpredictability - their programmed responses couldn't adapt to Bee's improvised deadly dance.

"Eight blade style ain't just for show," Bee rapped as he wove between attacks. "Each sword's got a rhythm only Killer Bee can know!"

His movements seemed to accelerate with each verse, the swords becoming silver blurs that caught the desert sun.

When a guard managed to knock one sword away with a lucky strike, Bee's response left Naruto speechless - the swordsman caught a third blade in his teeth, never missing a beat in his deadly dance. The blade between his teeth moved with the same precision as those in his hands, as if his whole body was part of the sword's path.

Three swords at once, and he has five more he isn't even using, Naruto thought with growing amazement, watching Bee smoothly transition between attacks that should have been physically impossible.

What kind of monster would he be with all eight?

The thought sent chills down his spine - this self-proclaimed wandering swordsman moved with a level of skill that made jonin look like academy students.

But amazement turned to horror as Bee's blades found lethal targets, his rhythm carrying death rather than just disablement.

Each strike aimed for vital points - throat, heart, major arteries. The guards' programmed movements couldn't adapt fast enough to avoid strikes they'd never been trained to anticipate.

He's going to kill them, Naruto realized with growing alarm.

For all their artificial precision, these were still people - perhaps even victims of whatever system had turned Gaara into an empty puppet. Training kicked in as he launched himself forward, body moving on instinct refined by countless drills.

"Wait!" he called, pitching Menma's voice carefully between authority and pleading. "We don't need to - "

His hand caught Bee's arm mid-strike, and that same spark of recognition flared between them.

Stronger this time, carrying undertones of ancient power that made the Nine-Tails stir with unusual interest. It felt like touching a lightning bolt - raw power barely contained in human form.

"Another one," the Fox muttered in his mind, its voice carrying notes of both recognition and wariness. "But different... wilder..."

Naruto barely had the time to hear the Fox inside him. Whatever the hell was the Nine-Tails muttering about?

Bee froze, his sunglasses reflecting Naruto's disguised features. The sword in his teeth gleamed with deadly promise, but something in his stance shifted - the deadly rhythm pausing as if recognizing a countermelody.

For a moment, something passed between them - understanding deeper than words, recognition beyond surface appearances. Power calling to power, though neither could acknowledge it openly.

The girl's cry of pain shattered the moment. More guards had appeared, their movements carrying that unsettling precision that marked them as tools rather than warriors. But the girl was changing now, ice spreading across her body like living armor. Her features elongated, became lupine - not just a transformation, but a complete metamorphosis into a wolf crafted from winter itself.

The temperature around them plummeted as her nature fully manifested, frost patterns spreading across the ground in beautiful, deadly fractals.

"No killing," Naruto insisted, maintaining Menma's higher pitch even as he moved with practiced grace between Bee and the guards. "There's a better way!"

His hands formed subtle gestures - not quite seals, but deliberate movements Jiraiya had taught him for situations exactly like this.

Bee's rhythm faltered for a moment, his blades hovering uncertainly. "Better give me a reason, fool, ya fool! These puppet-men ain't playing by any golden rule!"

Ice crystals danced through the air as Mirajane's wolf form prowled beside them, her transformed body radiating winter's fury. Frost patterns spread beneath her paws, turning the desert street into a treacherous field of beautiful, deadly ice. Her lupine features carried an otherworldly grace - not just an animal shape, but something that existed between forms, winter itself given conscious form.

We need to move, Naruto thought, watching more guards appear with that unsettling synchronization. But together. Coordinated.

Two years of training kicked in as he assessed their options, looking for escape routes that wouldn't require lethal force.

"Follow my lead," he called, pitching his voice to carry authority while maintaining Menma's careful disguise. His hands moved in patterns that looked random but carried meaning - signs thieves and wanderers used to communicate.

Three counts. Then run.

Understanding flickered in Bee's stance - the subtle shift of a professional recognizing another's signals. When Naruto moved, they flowed together like they'd trained for years. Bee's swords created openings, Mirajane’s ice forced guards to adjust their mechanical patterns, and Naruto's carefully measured strikes disabled without killing.

The chase led them through Suna's winding streets, their pursuers' synchronization actually working against them. The guards' programmed responses couldn't adapt to their unpredictable movements, their perfect precision becoming a weakness against organic chaos.

Then the sandstorm hit - a wall of stinging particles that seemed to materialize from nowhere.

Too sudden, Naruto thought even as they ran. Too localized.

But before he could process the implications, hands grabbed them from a hidden alley.

Bee moved to strike, but stone pillars erupted from the ground - Earth Style: Rock Pillar Prison - binding his arms before he could reach his swords. The pillars of rock passed the space between Mirajane’s lupine limbs, essentially binding her in place.

Naruto found himself surrounded, his carefully maintained Menma persona wavering as he recognized the technique's user.

"Well," Baki's voice cut through the howling sand. "The famous runaway finally returns."

His visible eye fixed on Naruto with uncomfortable intensity.

"Though I must say, black isn't really your color... Menma."

When Naruto looked at Baki’s eyes, he knew the emphasis meant another message.

He knows.

Naruto took a deep breath, calculating his options.

Stay in character, years of training screamed. But something in Baki's stance stopped him - the subtle tension of someone carrying a burden too heavy to bear alone.

"I don't know what you're - " Naruto started, but Baki cut him off.

"Save it. We don't have time for games."

His voice dropped lower, urgent.

"You're here for Gaara. I know. But you're running out of time - we all are." His eye darted to the surrounding guards - not the puppet-like ones they'd been fleeing, but others who moved with natural grace.

"Things are worse than you know. Much worse."

The sandstorm continued to rage, providing cover for this clandestine meeting. Naruto felt his careful disguise cracking under the weight of what was coming - another piece in a game far more complex than they'd imagined.

Sometimes, Jiraiya had taught him, the most dangerous moment is when you find unexpected allies. Because that's when you have to decide who to trust.

The decision crystallized in his mind as Baki's words hung in the air, heavy with implications they couldn't yet understand.

 

AROUND THE SAME TIME…

The morning air hummed with lethal precision in Danzo's private training ground as Sasuke tracked his opponent's movements with his Sharingan. The ANBU agent, face hidden behind a mask of abstract red patterns, moved with killing intent in every strike - each blow aimed for vital points, each movement designed to end life.

No jutsu, but they never hold back their killing force, Sasuke noted, weaving between strikes that would have been fatal if they connected. His own responses remained carefully measured - fire techniques that cornered but never burned, lightning that disabled but never pierced.

The agent's fist whistled past his throat, close enough that Sasuke felt the displacement of air. His Sharingan caught every detail of the attack - the exact angle that would have crushed his windpipe, the perfect form behind the strike. These weren't training blows. These were killing moves executed with mechanical precision.

Just like every day, he thought, responding with a fire technique that created distance without causing harm. They try to kill me, while I learn to contain without destroying.

A flash of memory hit him as he redirected another lethal strike - sparring matches that felt like lifetimes ago, a loud voice declaring future victories, blue eyes burning with determination that matched his own. Back then, every fight had carried the thrill of rivalry, the push to grow stronger together.

The memory burned unexpectedly, breaking his concentration just enough for the ANBU's kick to graze his ribs.

Where are you now, dead-last? The thought carried more bitterness than he meant to allow. Running wild while they train me to be your cage?

Frustration leaked through his careful conditioning as he formed hand signs - more aggressive now, his techniques carrying edges of the emotion he was supposed to have discarded. The ANBU matched his intensity with pure killing intent, never using jutsu but never holding back their lethal purpose.

Something inside him cracked.

I'm tired of this careful restraint.

Electricity screamed to life around his hand, raw power finally matching his opponent's killing intent. The Chidori's light reflected in the ANBU's mask as Sasuke moved with true purpose for the first time in months-

Danzo's cane struck the ground, the sound shattering Sasuke's focus. His chakra dispersed instantly, years of conditioning asserting control.

"You forget yourself," Danzo's voice cut like winter wind. "Control without killing intent. You're being shaped for containment, not destruction." His single visible eye narrowed. "Or have you forgotten what happened when you let emotion drive your techniques before?"

The reprimand struck home. Sasuke straightened, burying the fragments of memory and emotion back beneath layers of careful programming. His breathing regulated, his chakra smoothed to perfect calm.

But somewhere deep inside, in places their conditioning hadn't quite reached, the memory of blue eyes and fierce determination lingered like a spark refusing to die.

"Your killing intent leaked like a genin's first attempt at chakra control," Danzo continued, his cane tapping against the ground in measured beats. "Two years of careful conditioning, and still these... emotional responses surface."

Sasuke remained perfectly still, sweat cooling on his skin as the morning air grew heavier with disapproval. His Sharingan deactivated on instinct - they'd trained him not to meet Danzo's eye directly during these moments of correction.

"However," Danzo's voice shifted slightly, carrying notes of something that made Sasuke's trained instincts hum with warning, "your punishment will wait. You have a mission approaching, one that requires... natural reactions."

Natural reactions?

The concept felt foreign after years of programmed responses. Sasuke's brow furrowed slightly before he could stop himself.

"Lord Danzo, I don't understand. Why would you want - "

"Questioning will defeat the purpose of the instruction," Danzo cut him off smoothly. His cane struck the ground once more - not a command this time, but a punctuation. "Meet me after the mission briefing. There are... additional parameters to discuss."

Something's wrong, Sasuke thought, years of training making him hyperaware of subtle shifts in Danzo's usual patterns. But his conditioning held firm, keeping his voice carefully neutral.

"Yes, Lord Danzo."

"Dismissed."

Sasuke turned to leave, his movements carrying the perfect precision they'd instilled in him. But as he walked away, he could feel Danzo's eye following him - measuring, calculating, as if gauging how their carefully forged weapon might perform under unexpected strain.

Behind him, crows took flight from their perches, their wings painting shadows across the training ground like omens of things to come.

 

AROUND THE SAME TIME…

The steady beep of medical monitors marked time as Sakura's chakra-coated hands hovered over the injured shinobi's chest cavity. Two years of training crystallized into this moment - every lesson, every failure, every triumph leading to this single test of her abilities.

This isn't just practice, she thought, noting how Tsunade stood back, observing without intervention. This is real. An actual jounin, injured during a border patrol.

Her chakra flowed with microscopic precision, weaving through damaged tissue with the delicacy she'd learned from countless hours practicing on fish and small animals. Each movement had to be perfect - too much force would damage already fragile cells, too little wouldn't stimulate proper healing.

A memory surfaced as she worked - her first attempt at this level of control, frustration making her punch through the hospital wall.

"Channel that strength," Tsunade had said, standing in the rubble. "But learn to contain it. Raw power means nothing without perfect control."

The injured shinobi's chakra network flickered beneath her diagnostic technique, telling its own story of trauma and resilience.

Like reading a map written in lightning, she mused, tracing each disrupted pathway. This was the art Tsunade had truly taught her - not just healing flesh, but understanding the intricate dance of life itself.

Her hands moved in careful patterns, each gesture precise as calligraphy. This was nothing like the broad techniques she'd started with, nothing like the simple healing she'd once thought would be enough. This was surgery performed with chakra, requiring concentration that made even her monstrous strength seem simple in comparison.

You'd probably be bouncing off the walls with impatience, she thought, the empty space where Naruto should have been feeling particularly acute in this sterile room. Always rushing ahead, never understanding why we needed to learn the slow, careful ways.

But that thought carried darker undertones now. Two years of working in the hospital, of seeing how the human body could be manipulated by careful application of chakra and seals... it had opened her eyes to possibilities she wished she could unsee.

The damaged tissue began knitting together beneath her chakra's guidance, cells multiplying at her careful direction. But her mind wandered to other applications - how the same techniques that could heal could also be used to control, to reshape, to program.

Is that what they did to you, Naruto? The thought nearly broke her concentration, but years of training held firm. Did they use medical techniques perverted into something else? Is that why Tsunade-sama seems so intent on teaching me every detail of how the body can be influenced by chakra?

"Good," Tsunade's voice cut through her dark musings. "You're maintaining perfect control even while your mind wanders. That's the mark of true mastery."

Sakura's hands didn't waver, but something in her chest tightened.

She knows. She's been watching me put the pieces together.

The procedure continued in focused silence, but Sakura's trained medical mind couldn't help analyzing everything she'd learned. Every lesson about chakra pathways and neural manipulation. Every careful explanation of how the body's natural systems could be augmented or suppressed.

Knowledge is neutral, Tsunade had taught her. It's the application that matters.

As she finished the delicate procedure, her chakra withdrawing with surgical precision, Sakura wondered exactly what application her master was preparing her for. And why, whenever she asked about certain techniques, Tsunade's eyes carried shadows that spoke of battles yet to come.

The monitors showed stable signs as she stepped back, the procedure complete. Perfect healing, perfect control. But the questions lurking beneath that perfection felt heavier than any weight she'd learned to shatter.

"How was my performance, Tsunade-sama?" Sakura pulled out her ever-present notebook, ready to document every criticism, every suggestion for improvement.

The habit was deeply ingrained now - two years of relentless training had taught her that every detail mattered, every observation could mean the difference between life and death.

But Tsunade didn't launch into her usual detailed analysis. Instead, her honey-colored eyes held something that made Sakura's trained medical instincts prickle with warning.

"Put the notebook away," Tsunade said, her voice carrying an edge Sakura hadn't heard since... since that day. "Come with me to my office. It's time for your next assignment."

A mission?

Sakura's heart seemed to stutter in her chest. Her hands, so steady during the delicate procedure moments ago, trembled slightly as she tucked the notebook away.

My first real mission since...

The thought tried to complete itself - memories of that failed retrieval, of promises broken and bonds shattered. But she forced it down with practiced determination.

No. Focus on the now.

On being better.

They walked through the hospital corridors in silence, each step feeling heavier than the last. Sakura's mind raced through possibilities - was she ready? Had all this training prepared her for whatever came next? The weight of her mistakes felt like physical things, pressing down with each step.

I have to be better, she thought fiercely, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. Better for Naruto, wherever he is. Better for Sasuke, still lost in his own way. Better for myself.

The thought steadied her, gave her steps purpose. She wasn't that crying girl anymore, making demands of others while standing safely back. Whatever mission awaited in the Hokage's office, she would face it with everything she'd learned these past two years.

Because that's what growing up means, she realized as they approached the administrative building. Not just getting stronger, but being strong enough to face your own failures. And maybe, someday, strong enough to fix them.

The morning sun painted long shadows across their path, like fingers reaching from the past. But Sakura walked forward with her head high, ready to prove that all this training, all this growth, hadn't been in vain.

Even if part of her wondered what those empty spaces where her teammates should have been would think of who she'd become.

 

AROUND THE SAME TIME…

The earth jutsu holding Bee dissolved as Baki gestured, the artificial sandstorm dying away to reveal they'd been moved closer to Suna's outer walls.

Not random, Naruto noted, his trained eyes catching how this particular alley offered multiple escape routes while remaining hidden from regular patrol paths. With another series of hand signs, Baki sealed off both ends of the alley, leaving them in a temporary sanctuary from pursuing guards.

The jutsu itself spoke volumes - not a standard earth technique, but something modified for stealth and precision.

He's done this before, Naruto realized. Created safe spaces for conversations that shouldn't happen.

Naruto's trained senses caught the sound of footsteps above - guards sweeping the area with that unsettling mechanical precision that had become Suna's hallmark. Their movements carried that same programmed grace he'd witnessed in the council chambers, each step measured to mathematical perfection.

Like puppets dancing to invisible strings, he thought, remembering how Gaara had moved with that same artificial precision.

Everyone fell silent, even Bee's usual rhythm stilled as they waited. The quiet felt heavy with potential energy - Mirajane's frost still crackling softly along her arms, Bee's swords humming with barely contained purpose.

Years of training made Naruto catalog every detail: the exact distance to each exit, the way shadows would cover their escape if needed, how Baki's stance suggested he was ready to renew the sandstorm at a moment's notice.

When the sounds finally faded, Baki turned to them. His visible eye carried weight beyond mere recognition as he spoke: "Can these two be trusted, Na - "

"Menma," Naruto cut him off sharply, his voice carrying more edge than his careful disguise should allow. Two years of practiced deception threatened to crack beneath that almost-spoken name. "My name is Menma."

Their eyes locked in a brief battle of wills - Naruto's carefully constructed identity against Baki's knowledge of truth.

He knows exactly who I am, Naruto realized. And why I'm really here.

The moment stretched like a wire about to snap before Baki inclined his head slightly, understanding flowing beneath the gesture.

"Can they be trusted... Menma?"

He gets it, Naruto thought, studying the jonin's stance.

The slight emphasis on his false name carried acknowledgment of necessary deceptions.

But two years of Jiraiya's training kicked in, making him voice the obvious question: "Can you?"

"You've probably noticed how the guards move," Baki said quietly, his voice pitched to carry no further than their small group. "But it goes deeper than simple mind control. They retain their conscious thoughts, their ability to act independently, but they've been... conditioned to follow orders in specific ways."

His eyes flickered to Mirajane. "They seem particularly triggered by certain appearances, certain names."

His gaze met Naruto's again on the word 'names, earning a slight nod of acknowledgment. The implication was clear - just as Mirajane’s ice abilities marked her as a target, Naruto's true identity would trigger programmed responses.

Just like how Konoha's ANBU would have been programmed to react to me, he realized, remembering Danzo's careful explanations of how they would have conditioned their forces to control their Jinchūriki.

The Nine-Tails stirred restlessly within him, its chakra responding to memories of nearly being caged. But years of training held firm as Naruto maintained his disguise, waiting to see what other secrets Baki might reveal.

"Who exactly are you, fool?" Bee's voice carried none of its usual playful rhythm, all pretense of casual wandering stripped away. His hands stayed close to his sword hilts as he spoke. "Why spill these secrets free?"

"I am Baki, former teacher to the Kazekage."

"Gaara?" Mirajane's voice carried recognition that made Naruto's chest tighten. Even in the furthest corners of the world, that name carried weight. "I've heard that name..."

"The robot-man walking streets each day?" Bee asked, his usual rhythm replaced by sharp observation. "Moving like he's got no soul to sway?"

Something flickered across Baki's visible eye - pain, regret, determination. The expression reminded Naruto too much of how Iruka used to look at him, trying to hide concern behind professional distance.

"He wasn't always like that. After his travels, he was changing, opening up..."

After our fight, Naruto thought, memories threatening to break through his careful disguise. He remembered that moment of connection in the forest, when they'd recognized the same pain in each other's eyes. The loneliness of being seen as nothing but a vessel for power.

You were finally finding your way, he thought. Finally understanding what it meant to protect others.

"But then the council started implementing their control. With help from someone I believe you know, Menma.”

Baku paused for a split second, as though pondering what he’d say next.

“Orochimaru."

The name hit Naruto like a physical blow. His carefully maintained disguise nearly cracked as rage and horror flooded through him. That snake, he thought, memories of Sasuke's corruption rising unbidden. The Curse Mark spreading across his friend's skin like poison, twisting everything they'd built together into weapons for Orochimaru's ambitions.

First Sasuke, now Gaara? His hands wanted to clench into fists, but years of training kept them relaxed at his sides. How many more lives will he destroy? How many more precious people will he turn into puppets for his experiments?

The Nine-Tails stirred within him, responding to his carefully contained fury.

"The snake spreads his venom far," it observed with unusual gravity. "First the Uchiha, now another vessel... he seeks to control all forms of power."

And its next question made time stop flowing for Naruto, like sand pausing in the air before the rest of the hourglass could catch it.

“So, what do you plan on doing about it?”

Naruto forced his breathing to remain steady, maintained Menma's carefully constructed posture. But inside, determination crystallized into something harder than mere rescue. I won't let him do to Gaara what he did to Sasuke, he promised silently. Whatever it takes, whatever we have to become - we're stopping this. Here. Now.

His eyes met Baki's again, and something passed between them - understanding deeper than words. They both knew exactly what Orochimaru's involvement meant, and exactly how far they'd have to go to stop it.

The alley suddenly felt colder, and not just from Mirajane’s lingering frost. The game they were playing had just become infinitely more dangerous.

"The Sannin?" Bee's sunglasses couldn't hide his sharp interest, his usual rhythm completely abandoned in favor of focused attention. The very air seemed to grow heavier at the mention of that legendary title.

"The very one. Now those of us who remain loyal - myself, his siblings Kankuro and Temari - we want to free him. But we can't move against Ibuki and his faction. Not alone." Baki's eye fixed on Naruto with an intensity that made maintaining his disguise harder. "But perhaps strangers like yourself..."

Kankuro and Temari are still fighting for him, Naruto thought, something in his chest tightening at the mention of Gaara's siblings. He remembered how they'd started to understand their brother after the Chunin Exams, how they'd begun building real bonds as a family. They haven't given up on him either.

"What could three travelers do?" Mirajane asked, frost still clinging to her partially transformed arms. The ice crystals caught the dim alley light, creating patterns that looked almost like tears.

"Seek counsel with your mentor, 'Shiro," Baki's tone carried subtle mockery of the obvious alias, but there was something else beneath it - respect, perhaps, or recognition of necessary deceptions. "Tell him this: 'The princess wept when autumn leaves fell."

Page 247 of Icha Icha Paradise, Naruto realized, recognizing one of the passages Jiraiya had made him memorize during their training. A code? His mind raced through the implications - how many of those endless literature lessons had been preparation for exactly this kind of moment?

"He'll understand," Baki continued, his stance shifting subtly toward departure. "We'll be in touch."

Before they could respond, he released the earth jutsu sealing the alley. When they turned back, Baki and his guards had vanished, leaving only swirling sand where they'd stood - a reminder that in Suna, even allies could disappear like mirages in the desert.

More pieces to the puzzle, Naruto thought, his trained mind already analyzing everything they'd learned.

Each detail felt significant - the guards' conditioning, Orochimaru's involvement, the siblings' continued resistance.

But beneath his careful disguise, something else stirred - hope, dangerous and familiar, that maybe they weren't as alone in this mission as they'd thought.

He glanced at his unlikely companions - Bee's thoughtful stance, Mirajane’s frost slowly receding as she processed everything they'd heard. Two years of running had taught him the value of unexpected allies.

Perhaps this time, with help from both inside and outside Suna's walls, they could actually save someone before they were completely lost to the machinery of control.

The morning sun continued its climb over Suna's walls, painting long shadows across their path. But for the first time since arriving in this city of mechanical precision and programmed obedience, those shadows felt less like prison bars and more like paths yet to be taken.

Naruto raised the hood of his cloak over his head, advising Bee and Mirajane to do the same. Bee finally sheathed his swords and kept his sunglasses close to his face. When Mirajane couldn’t find a cloak to cover herself with, Naruto snatched the coveralls of a cart that had fallen

Hold on, Gaara, he thought, careful to keep the emotion from showing on Menma's borrowed features. We're not letting you disappear into their perfect control. You’re not going to be a piece in their game. Not this time.

 

AN HOUR LATER…

The tension in the Hokage's office felt thick enough to cut with a kunai.

Sasuke stood perfectly still, his trained senses noting every detail - Kakashi's carefully neutral stance beside Tsunade, Shizune's subtle tension, and most tellingly, Danzo's presence at a separate desk, as if he belonged there. Even the morning light seemed to bend around the old war hawk's form, casting shadows that reached toward Tsunade's position like grasping fingers.

The power balance has shifted, he observed clinically, watching how even routine mission assignments now seemed to require Danzo's oversight.

Two years had changed more than just their team - the council's influence had grown like a creeping vine, slowly but inexorably claiming territory.

The old war hawk had effectively become a second Hokage in all but name, his "suggestions" carrying the weight of commands.

Every gesture in the room told its own story - how Shizune's hands stayed carefully close to her hidden senbon, how Kakashi's visible eye seemed fixed on some middle distance, deliberately avoiding direct observation of anyone. Even the ANBU guards' positions had shifted over the months, gradually favoring Danzo's side of the office.

Root's influence spreads deeper every day, Sasuke noted with the detached interest his conditioning had instilled.

The regular ANBU's movements carried hints of that mechanical precision he'd grown so familiar with during his training. Soon they'd be indistinguishable from Root's perfect soldiers.

"We've received disturbing reports from Sunagakure," Tsunade began, her honey-colored eyes carefully avoiding Danzo's direction. Each word seemed chosen with painful precision, as if navigating a field of explosive tags. "Evidence of experiments involving mental manipulation and chakra control."

How ironic, Sasuke thought, remembering the clinical discussions of Naruto's planned "reconditioning."

The memory carried no emotional weight now - just an interesting observation of political hypocrisy.

Condemning in others what we nearly did ourselves.

He recalled how they'd discussed chakra suppression and behavioral modification as if they were merely technical challenges to overcome, not fundamental violations of human will.

The morning sun caught the edges of Tsunade's desk, highlighting the subtle tremor in her hands as she shuffled mission documents. Her authority wanes while his grows, Sasuke analyzed, noting how even her posture seemed diminished compared to Danzo's quietly confident stance.

The power dynamics in the room had become a physical thing, as tangible as chakra to his trained senses.

But what truly caught his attention was the careful way everyone avoided mentioning certain obvious parallels.

No one spoke of how similar these "disturbing experiments" sounded to what they'd planned for their own Jinchūriki. No one acknowledged the bitter irony of condemning in Suna what they'd nearly implemented in Konoha.

Politics, he mused with clinical detachment, makes hypocrites of everyone.

The thought carried no judgment - his conditioning had stripped such emotional responses away. It was merely an observation, like noting the angle of a kunai's flight or the pattern of an opponent's strikes.

The silence stretched between Tsunade's words, heavy with unspoken implications and carefully maintained ignorance.

Above them, crows circled the Hokage tower like living omens, their shadows dancing across the office windows in patterns that seemed almost deliberate.

"Just... just the two of us?" Sakura's voice carried notes of uncertainty that made Sasuke's conditioning hum with disapproval. Her medical training showed in how she shifted her weight - ready to catch herself, to maintain perfect balance even in emotional moments.

"Without a captain, with our team incomplete - "

Still thinking of him, Sasuke noted clinically. Even after two years, she can't say his name.

"Perhaps," Danzo interrupted smoothly, his single visible eye gleaming with satisfaction that set Sasuke's trained instincts humming with warning, "the Hokage should clarify the administrative changes."

The emphasis on '”Hokage” carried subtle mockery. Tsunade's jaw tightened briefly, the morning light catching the tension in her shoulders before she spoke.

"Your team is being restructured. Allow me to introduce your new captain, Yamato, and your new teammate, Sai."

Recognition flickered through Sasuke's mind as the two figures emerged from the shadows, their movements carrying that familiar mechanical grace.

Sai - the ANBU he'd sparred with countless times, though now without his mask. His face held that same empty perfection Sasuke saw in his own reflection these days.

And Yamato, Danzo's ever-present shadow, whose wood-style techniques had featured in so many of their training sessions.

The same two who escorted him to my hospital room, he realized, remembering that pivotal conversation. When he offered me true power. When he explained what I could become.

"I look forward to working with you," Sai's smile curved with artificial perfection, a carefully constructed expression that reminded Sasuke of his own training in mimicking emotion. "I hope we can become friends."

"That smile..." Sakura's whisper was barely audible, but Sasuke's trained senses caught every nuance of pain in her voice. "Just like Naruto's..."

The comparison hung in the air like a poisoned kunai. When others turned to question her words, she quickly dismissed it as nothing, her medical training helping her maintain composure.

But Sasuke had heard the comparison - and more importantly, noticed how it made Danzo's eye narrow slightly.

Interesting. A reaction to the name, or to Sakura noticing the similarity?

"What about Kakashi-sensei?" The question left Sasuke's lips before his conditioning could stop it. Not from emotional attachment - they'd trained that out of him long ago - but from tactical assessment of these changes.

Something about this restructuring felt calculated, precise, like the careful setup of a complex jutsu.

"Ah yes," Danzo's satisfaction became almost palpable, filling the room like a physical presence. "After careful review, we deemed Kakashi... unsuitable to continue as Team 7's captain. His new position at the Academy better suits his... capabilities."

Each pause carried weighted implications. Sakura's breath caught, protest forming on her lips, but Sasuke remained silent. His training had taught him to read beneath surface movements, to see the currents that guided apparent chaos.

"You leave at dawn," Tsunade's dismissal carried the weight of command, but Sasuke caught the subtle tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers pressed too hard against the mission scrolls.

"Dismissed."

She knows something's wrong too, he noted, watching how she deliberately avoided meeting Kakashi's eye.

Behind her, Danzo's satisfaction seemed to grow with each passing moment, like a shadow lengthening at sunset.

As they filed out of the office, Sasuke's mind categorized every detail with mechanical precision - a habit drilled into him through countless training sessions.

Sai's steps matched the exact rhythm they'd maintained during their spars, that same lethal grace now hidden beneath a veneer of normalcy. Yamato's watchful presence carried notes of familiar authority - the same careful observation he'd shown during Sasuke's early training under Danzo.

But it was Kakashi's reaction that caught his tactician's attention.

His former teacher's visible eye had flickered with recognition when Sai and Yamato were introduced - not surprise, but confirmation of something already suspected.

He knows them, Sasuke realized. Or knows what they represent.

The sound of Sakura's footsteps beside him carried their own story - the measured pace of someone trying very hard to maintain composure. Her medical training showed in how she regulated her breathing, trying to process these changes with professional detachment. But

Sasuke's conditioned senses caught the subtle tremor in her chakra, the way her fingers twitched toward fists before relaxing.

The pieces are moving, he thought, his conditioning translating everything into tactical assessment.

Each detail felt significant - Kakashi's effective demotion, the introduction of two of Danzo's perfect soldiers, the timing of this mission to investigate practices so similar to what they'd nearly implemented themselves. But toward what end?

His training had taught him to see patterns in chaos, to recognize the subtle architecture of carefully planned operations.

This felt like watching the setup for a complex jutsu - each seal, each movement, precisely calculated for maximum effect. But the final form remained frustratingly unclear.

Behind them, the morning sun cast long shadows through the Hokage's windows, painting patterns that looked almost like prison bars across the floor.

The symbolism wasn't lost on Sasuke's tactical mind - barriers of light and shadow, power shifting like seasonal changes, and through it all, Danzo's careful machinations spreading like roots through Konoha's very foundations.

As they descended the tower's steps, crows took flight from nearby perches, their wings casting fleeting shadows that seemed to merge with the patterns already painted across their path. Somewhere in the village, a bell tolled - marking either an ending or a beginning, though Sasuke's conditioning no longer concerned itself with such philosophical distinctions.

All that mattered now was the mission. The patterns. The careful observation of pieces moving across a board he couldn't quite see.

And perhaps, though his training would never let him acknowledge it directly, the growing sense that they were all becoming pieces in someone else's game.

End.

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