Chapter 24: Focii and Myths
Ki, according to the DnD guidebooks, flowed from the Ethereal plane, an aspect of the Astral Plane—the imaginary realm where universes are born, and gods go to die.
I'd been skeptical of that bit of lore.Until I got my first taste of it.
Now I wasn't. Now I was damn sure this was some kind of god juice.
I hadn't slept. Not a wink.
I sat in my living room all night, entranced by the vibrant colors that painted reality. They weren't visible in the traditional sense. I felt them on my skin. Tasted them on my tongue. Shivered as they hummed through my bones.
When the sun finally rose, its golden rays painted the room in warm light and through my expanded senses, I could feel the sunlight shimmer with the world's Ki. The beauty of it left me breathless and dazed—but I pushed that aside.
I had to act.
I jumped to my feet, seized by inspiration and decided to make the most of it before it slipped away. I rushed to the windowsill and gathered my five potted plants—each one a young sapling clipped from the Hashirama trees of Konoha's forests.
Even in their youth, they were remarkably durable. But that wasn't why I chose them.
No, I chose them for a rarer trait: their ability to conduct chakra.
Hashirama trees, after all, were made with chakra. They were among the most chakra-conductive materials in existence. And that trait was critical for what I intended to create:
A focus.
In nearly every magical system I'd studied—whether in books, games, or old legends—external magic was dangerous, volatile. Power like that demanded discipline and control. Those who reached for it unprepared often met ugly, painful ends.
That's what a focus was for.
A focus is a mystical buffer between wielder and nature's wrath, attuned to the user's essence, allowing them to interact with power far beyond their natural capacity. I knew this connection to Ki wouldn't last forever—when the first contact ended, I'd have to train hard to wield it. But before that happened, I could make things easier.
I could craft my first true magical tool.
Of the five pots, one tree was already dead. I had pushed chakra into it recklessly the day before, and it simply died. I felt that death now—not as a void, but as something coiled inward, compressed, waiting for its next step. It was fascinating.
But I had other priorities.
I selected a still-living sapling and began channeling my chakra into the soil, then the roots. I had been doing this for a week now, and the little tree welcomed me like an old friend.
The sapling acted like an antenna, resonating with my chakra sense, extending my range, letting me feel the ambient Ki even more clearly. I poured in more chakra, slowly, gently, until the tree felt like an extension of myself—then I reached outward and drank deeply from the world's free-floating Ki.
It poured into the tree, mixed with my chakra in a heady concoction that felt like sunshine in my veins.
Peace.
Unity.
I could've stayed in that euphoria forever—if not for the sharp crack of crumbling stone.
I looked down. The sapling had petrified. Crystallized. And now it crumbled to dust in my hand. The Ki within it lashed outward, reaching for me. I flung it away just in time, narrowly avoiding the same fate.
The sound of the pot shattering snapped me fully back to reality.
My awareness of Ki began to fade, slipping away like a dream. I grabbed the second sapling, repeating my earlier process—but this time with restraint.
It still died.
The third one followed.
Now, only one sapling remained.
Panic clawed at me, but then I realized what I'd missed. Something basic. Obvious. Stereotypical, even.
Balance.
Of course. It had to be balance.
This time, I reached out through the sapling and sipped—not chugged—the Ki. I let it flow, little by little, my senses razor-sharp, searching for that elusive equilibrium. And then...
I found it.
Somewhere in the flow, my chakra ceased to be chakra. The Ki ceased to be Ki. The two fused into something new. Something powerful. Something strange.
But undeniably mine.
I opened my eyes—eyes I hadn't realized I'd closed—and stared.
The sapling had grown. What had once been a five-inch sprout was now a two-foot young tree. I could feel it—if I kept feeding it, it would keep growing.
I had done it.
Now… How do I go about turning this into a bo staff?
—Scene break—
I skipped to school.
Like a little girl.
People stared. Adults snickered.
I couldn't give a single fuck. I was on cloud nine.
I did it.
My god, I actually did it.
There were still steps ahead—plenty of them—but the hardest part was behind me. My wizard's staff was finally within reach. Only the last scraps of my dignity kept me from screaming to the heavens about my absolute badassery.
Naruko had been confused all morning, but I was too wrapped up in my thoughts—and the endless possibilities this breakthrough had opened—to stop and explain.
When we got to the academy, I left her with a kiss on the cheek and a promise to fill her in later. That elevated my already euphoric mood even higher.
I carried that energy all the way into class, where I greeted Kuro with a bear hug and a spontaneous pirouette.
She giggled, eyes sparkling, and didn't even ask for an explanation.
She was just happy I was happy. I could feel it.
Though my ability to sense Ki had faded, my chakra sense had grown exponentially more potent. I could now perceive—lacking a better term—colors in people's chakra.
I didn't yet know what those colors meant, exactly, but I was certain they reflected emotions and elements of personality expressed through the spiritual nature of one's chakra.
Kuro, for example, had a warm pink core that pulsed outward into a viscous, blood-red aura—hot, sharp, and searing.
Everyone had their own colors. Watching them shift and dance throughout the day was fascinating. So fascinating, in fact, I barely noticed the hours fly by.
It was during one of the last classes—history—that Kuro tapped me on the shoulder.
Not that history was anything special. Same old academy-level content, now laced with praise for the Daimyō instead of just Konoha's brand of propaganda glorifying the will of fire.
I glanced sideways, distracted. Kuro's chakra was oscillating in beautiful, complex patterns. It was mesmerizing.
I almost missed what she was trying to tell me.
She tapped her forehead, then pointed at me.
It took me a moment to understand.
When I finally got it, I was surprised she wanted to do that here. In class. But the look she gave me—the tiniest pout, full of exaggerated disappointment—shattered my reluctance.
With a familiar flex of chakra, I cast the Mind Meld Jutsu.
Our consciousnesses met, the boundary between our thoughts vanishing.
'Ku-kun~, I have questions!' She sent while doing the mental equivalent of snuggling up to me.
'Ahh… it's hard to explain.' I replied feeling a bit nonplussed at how comfortable she was with me in her head.
'Try, please.'
I hesitated. Then, instead of trying to explain… I showed her.
My logic. My theories. My knowledge of chakra.
Everything that had led me to the concept of a natural ambient energy field and the logic of creating a focus to wield it.
I kept anything that hinted at a past life to myself—not because I didn't trust her, but… still.
Kuro, in contrast, didn't hold anything back. No walls. No barriers. Every flicker of emotion, every stray thought—laid bare.
I would reciprocate. Eventually.
'Ku-kun, we're not all prodigies, you know? Just because you show it to me doesn't mean I'll get it.'
Her mental voice carried a pout, even as her physical body sat composed, eyes fixed on the teacher.
Damn, that girl could act.
'Thank you,' she giggled in reply.
'As for me being a prodigy… I don't think so. I've just spent more time on this stuff than most people.'
'So Lee-san is stupid?' she said with a mental eye roll.
'What? No!'
'But no one works harder than Lee-san. And he's definitely spent just as much time trying to learn. He couldn't use jutsu, sure, but he could've figured out fuinjutsu on his own, right? In his apartment. With a cheap, second-hand storage seal. Since you're not a prodigy and all…'
'...'
'Okay, point taken.'
There was a difference between humility and condescension.
Lesson received.
'…I'll work on it.'
'If you want to.' She mentally shrugged. 'I think you're perfect, Ku-kun. Do whatever makes you happy, and I'll be happy.'
Her sincerity was beautiful. And more than a little unhinged. I could tell that 'whatever made me happy' had a lot of leeway.
But by now, that just made it endearing.
Her chakra echoed it. The pink at her center flushed deeper, rippling outward into crimson and smoky black, sharpening as it went.
'You're pretty too, Ku-kun.'
We sat together in comfortable mental silence, simply enjoying each other's presence.
Then her thoughts jolted—a memory resurfacing.
'Oh! I forgot! Ku-kun, can I start a business for you?'
'Business?'
'Yes! Remember my presentation about starting a printing press in Konoha? Well…'
She launched into a rapid-fire explanation of the current market climate in Konoha, political dynamics in the Land of Fire, and how both would influence the success of her venture. She even rattled off contingency plans for unforeseen market variables.
I understood maybe a third of it.
…Kuro, just bring the paperwork and I'll sign it.
She pouted at that. I sifted through her thoughts to find the reason.
'I'll also try to be involved in running it.' I promised.
We didn't get to spend much time together outside training. This… this would give us that time.
I didn't know she'd felt neglected.
'I don't.'
Her mental voice was firm. 'I just wanted to do this with you. And for you.'
That warmed something deep in my chest—right up until a stray thought made my brow twitch.
'…You also want the world to know the glories of Arya Stark and Daenerys Targaryen.'
'…Daenerys did nothing wrong…'
I sighed and turned my attention back to the teacher.
But I didn't sever the Mind Meld.
Kuro's content, happy hum at our spiritual closeness told me I'd made the right choice.
—Scene break—
I stared up at the 6'5" monkey man—equal parts awe and justified fear roiling in my gut. His golden eyes glared down at me with molten intensity, and I could feel the weight of his judgment like a boulder pressing down on my back.
He was massive. As an eleven-year-old, I barely came up to his waist. His white mane bristled as he stared me down, a wild halo that only added to his intimidating presence. But three things truly held my attention hostage: the tiger pelt draped across his mountainous shoulders, those burning golden eyes, and the writing on his forehead protector.
Mt. Huaguo.
Holy shit.
"He's small," the monkey king growled, his voice like distant thunder. From the side, my teacher's clone—the one who had summoned him—chuckled lightly.
"We all start out that way, Enma."
Enma snorted. "Our contractors are not meant to be small and weak, Hiruzen. Especially when you have them sign the contract without consulting me first."
"Izuku is a talented boy. I have no doubt he'll earn your approval."
Enma let out a scoff of clear disdain and turned his glowing gaze back on me. Those golden eyes didn't just look at me—they searched me, seared through me like sunlight through glass. And if he was who I suspected he was, they probably could incinerate me.
I gulped.
That earned me an even deeper look of contempt.
"…We'll see," Enma grunted, and lumbered off to the side.
My sensei sighed, half exasperated, half amused.
"Don't mind him, Izuku-kun. Enma has a prickly disposition, but his loyalty—once earned—is absolute. A feat I have no doubt you'll accomplish."
"Thank you, Sensei," I said, bowing my head.
He nodded in return. "Now then. I trust your discipline, so I'll be providing you with texts on fuinjutsu and chakra theory to study in your own time. If you run into difficulty, come to me for guidance."
I nodded eagerly.
"Your Taijutsu is still basic," he continued. "We'll explore multiple styles and determine what suits you best through practice and performance. Your education in ninjutsu has already begun, and while I'll support that journey, it's one you'll walk largely on your own. But Bukijutsu—specifically, wielding the bō staff, my signature weapon—that's something you're unfamiliar with, correct?"
"Yes, Sensei."
"Then we'll start with the fundamentals. Bring out the staff I gave you and we'll begin."
I brushed my sleeve, triggering the storage seal woven into my coat. With a puff of smoke, a black rod materialized in my hand.
My teacher nodded approvingly. "Good. Now, for the opening stance—"
I raised my hand.
"This isn't a classroom, Izuku-kun. Speak freely," he said warmly.
"Is the staff I train with important?" I asked.
"In what way?"
"I mean... would it be better if I trained with a personal weapon?"
"Yes. But as I told you earlier, the one I gave you is of very high quality."
Instead of replying, I reached into another seal—this one stitched near my heart. A seal meant for precious cargo. Another puff of smoke, and my most cherished creation appeared in my hands.
Sensei looked down at it—what appeared to be an oversized sapling.
And essentially, that's what it was.
Before leaving home that morning, I'd grown my Ki sapling to a full twelve feet. Using a chakra-enhanced kunai, I had cleaved off ten feet, leaving the rest in its pot on my windowsill. Then I stored the main section in my coat for this very moment—to show him.
Then, suddenly, my feet left the ground.
The sapling vanished from my hands.
And I found myself once again staring into the smoldering eyes of Lord Enma.
His voice rumbled with sudden gravity.
"Boy… what do you know about Senjutsu?"
—Scene break—
"Lord Danzō has fallen."
Kabuto blinked in surprise—an emotion he didn't have to fake.
"Come again?"
The masked Root agent didn't repeat themselves. Their blank mask betrayed nothing, and their uniform obscured all hints of gender. The dark garb helped them melt into the shadows of the isolated rooftop where the meeting took place.
"Contingency protocols have been activated. Release orders have been issued. Many Root operatives are to go underground and prepare for our lord's greater plan, which will now be carried out by his most trusted. As an active member among those Who Walk In The Light, you will be instrumental in—"
"How?"
A pause.
"...Pardon?"
"How did he die?"
The agent tensed at the question—a minuscule twitch, barely perceptible, invisible to all but the most seasoned shinobi. But not to Kabuto.
Unlike these drones, Kabuto hadn't been molded merely to suppress emotion. Danzō had sculpted him differently—stripped him of identity, yes, but also taught him to craft masks, to wear personas so thoroughly he became them.
These Root agents were nothing of the sort. To him, they were open books.
And what he saw was—
"Lord third… took exception to our purpose." the drone replied, voice emotionless, but limbs twitching in agitation .
Fear.
The agent's conditioning pushed them forward, mouthing rehearsed lines, but Kabuto could tell—terror had cracked this one. And if this one was broken, chances were the others were too.
Pity.
They might still serve as fodder, but his mistress already had an excess of such disposable tools.
Kabuto vanished in a blur.
In the next instant, two precise taps—one to sever the spine, the other to pierce the brain. The agent dropped to the floor, lifeless.
Loose ends. He would need to tie them off.
Fortunately, he had kept meticulous track of every operative within Danzō's ranks who knew his true identity. Kabuto disappeared into the night, navigating the rooftops to his next target.
A busy night lay ahead.
XXXXXXXXX
A/N: MoRe MAgiC!!!
Izuku makes a focus! Or at least the beginnings of one!
Kuro has business plans and is just being cute!
Lord Enma has questions!
What will the final focus look like?!
How long till someone does something to set Kuro off?!
What will lord Enma do to Izuku?!
Chapter 25: monkey kings & old friends
Monkeys had rough hands.
That was the thought that zoomed across my mind as Lord Enma's massive palm pressed against the nape of my neck, my feet dangling two or three feet off the ground, my face blasted by monkey breath.
Smelled like fruit and vitriol.
My stomach roiled with fear as I stared into golden eyes glaring right back at me. It took a moment to process what he'd just said.
"Senjutsu?" I questioned the unfamiliar term tripping off my tongue. The pieces of it suggested something to do with sages... or the number three—Japanese is confusing.
Lord Enma didn't respond immediately. He sized me up instead, watching me closely.
"You're not lying," he said, eyes narrowed.
"Enma?" came my sensei's voice, calm but sharp.
"This was grown with Senjutsu," Enma replied, holding up my Ki-wood.
"Wood Release?" Sarutobi-sensei asked, all joviality fleeing his tone. I perked up at that.
"No. This is not what Lord Hashirama did," Enma said flatly. I couldn't tell if I was relieved or disappointed.
"It's close," he admitted, "but still a ways off."
Now I didn't know whether to feel hopeful or anxious.
That brought up a question.
"Wood Release isn't a bloodline?" I asked, wondering if I'd been sleeping on a legendary wizard this whole time.
"That is… a complicated question, Izuku-kun."
"A question for another time. Boy—how did you make this?" Enma asked.
I pondered the best way to answer.
"Do you think a fish can conceive of a world with no water?" I said.
"I mean, is the space we inhabit empty? How would you know—if you haven't experienced a true void?"
It was something that had haunted my thoughts as I pondered the nature of Ki and the possibility of its existence. The training I undertook to sense it would've been useful either way, but I still came up with theories to justify the effort—real theories, grounded in more than just fantasy novels from another world.
Enma looked confused. Sensei looked intrigued. I pressed on.
"Killing intent," I said.
They both blinked at the seemingly random statement.
"Sarutobi-sensei's killing intent covered the entire village. I know he's powerful—but he's not a Tailed Beast. He shouldn't have enough chakra to blanket the whole area. So, how did everyone feel it?"
I leaned in as much as I could while being held like an unruly cat.
"What medium carried it if he wasn't even actively exuding chakra?"
I paused.
"There had to be something in between. I wanted to find out what that was. And in doing so, I discovered an energy that seemed to cover everything."
"How?" Enma interrupted.
"How what?" I asked.
"How did you discover this… energy field?"
"Meditation. To foster my spiritual energy and create stronger chakra."
Enma nodded. I continued.
"I didn't know what would happen if I interacted with it directly, but there had to be a reason it wasn't widely known. Either it was incredibly dangerous, incredibly powerful, or both. I guessed both."
I said this to an increasingly stone-faced Lord Enma and an incredibly smug-looking Hokage.
"So I wondered if I could create a sort of buffer—a tool to interact with it more safely. Then I had the idea: use wood from Hashirama trees to craft a focus and… well…"
I waved vaguely toward the Ki-wood in Enma's hand.
Said monkey man was now watching me with a new fire in his eyes. My sensei wore a proud expression tinged with grieving nostalgia.
They both fell silent. That made me extremely nervous. And like most intelligent children, when I got nervous my mouth ran away from me.
"Am I in trouble? Because I was totally safe this time. Like, no danger at all. I didn't even strain myself physically. I just sat in one place with a potted plant in my lap. I mean, yeah, there was a possibility of petrification, but I caught it before it became an issue. Sarutobi-sensei, you have to believe—"
My tirade was cut off as I was dropped in the dirt.
I fell two feet from Enma's grip, but thankfully, hours of training let me land gracefully. It also helped me react to what came next.
"Defend yourself."
Instinct honed by Kakashi's sadistic ambushes had me dodging back, arms raised to absorb the blow. Even so, it made my arms creak with strain as I was sent flying across the wooded clearing.
I cast Mage Armor mid-air and shifted into a landing stance.
I needed it. Lord Enma was already waiting when I landed.
I lashed out with a chakra-backed haymaker the moment he came in range. He slapped it aside and whirled—delivering a spinning roundhouse kick (or was it a backhand, given the whole hand-feet thing?)—smashing me in the face and sending me rolling.
When I found my feet, he was on me again.
I almost panicked. Almost.
But I calmed the waters of my mind. Found that place of unbreakable focus.
Emotion became distant.
All extraneous thoughts vanished.
There was nothing left. Nothing but the fight.
I slipped under Lord Enma's jab and delivered a full-powered roundhouse to his floating ribs. With how much my chakra enhancement and Mage Armor had improved this week, that punch would've reduced Mizuki to a fine mist.
Lord Enma grunted. Barely.
Then I was airborne. Again.
"You've got control, boy—but you're doing it wrong," he said with a bloodthirsty grin. "Had to beat that habit outta Hiruzen too. Looks like I'll have to do the same with you."
I didn't respond. I squatted low, surged chakra through my legs, and launched forward like a cannonball.
He dodged and flicked a jab at my face. I weaved under it—
It was a feint.
His real target?
My legs.
The one part Mage Armor couldn't protect.
Have you ever been leg-kicked before?
I have. Lee loved leg kicks. They hurt like hell. But I was getting used to them.
Or at least, I thought I was.
The back of Enma's hand-foot smacked the spot just above my knee. My right leg turned to jelly.
My stance faltered.
My focus didn't.
My mind was a still pon—
A fist to the face jarred my skull and sent me sprawling.
I'm pretty sure I blacked out for a moment.
"You're calm," Enma said. I pulled my face from the dirt to look at him. "But calm can only get you so far, kid." His golden eyes glowed.
"You need more than calm. You need guts."
He smiled a fanged smile.
My instinct was to ignore it—just another bit of psychological warfare. Kakashi never missed a chance to verbally eviscerate me in training. But something in Enma's tone gave me pause.
There was sincerity in it.
If he was who I suspected—or descended from who I suspected—then he had to admire fire. Grit. Passion.
You didn't fight Heaven by being a calm and reasonable person.
It brought back a memory I couldn't shake: my first spar with Lee. That last punch… I'd never hit that hard again, even now.
Maybe Enma was right. Maybe what I was missing was passion.
I didn't take my eyes off him, but I slipped into my mindscape.
The surface was clear—calm. I let the emotions return.
Fear.
Agitation.
Anger.
Desperation.
Spite.
Stubbornness.
They churned, boiling the pond into a raging typhoon. I didn't let it run wild—I focused it. Bent it to my will.
The storm collapsed into a frothing whirlpool of passion.
I poured every ounce of my being into this moment—into this fight.
"Ohhohoh, those are some nice eyes, boy," Enma laughed, that wild, primal laugh of his. "Now—show me what you've got."
I felt a spark of irritation at his casual tone and fed it to the storm.
My chakra shifted. It was half spiritual—by suppressing my emotions, I'd been cutting it off from something vital.
I crouched low. This time, when I launched, the earth cratered. Grass exploded outward.
The air tore around me, Mage Armor groaning under the pressure as I flew toward the Monkey King.
I pulled back my fist—and a scream ripped its way out of my throat as I punched with everything I had.
Enma met it, grinning like a madman.
The world broke.
My ears popped from the pressure drop. Air fled the force of our clash. The forest floor cratered. My feet sank ankle-deep into the earth.
That punch would be heard for miles.
And Enma?
"Now that's what I'm talking about!" he roared, laughing like a lunatic.
He was fine.
Cackling in joy.
If I were in my right mind, I might've ended the fight there. But I wasn't.
In that moment, I couldn't conceive of a world where I didn't beat this monkey into the dirt.
I struck again. My other fist reeled back.
I was almost dry. That last move had already wrung out my reserves. Another blow like that might hospitalize me. Or kill me.
I didn't care. I couldn't care.
My fist was nearly at full draw—
Then the world skipped.
I was suddenly staring at Lord Enma's thumb, his index finger curled behind it.
"Nice scrap, brat—but don't go hurting yourself."
He flicked me.
Mage Armor shattered like glass. My head snapped back. My vision spun. My brain rattled around in my skull.
Black.
This time, I was out for maybe a second. No more.
I lay in the dirt, my body screaming to stop. I ignored it.
This fight ended when I said so.
"You did good, kid. But the fight's over."
I felt the ground shift beside my head, felt the warmth of fur as Enma squatted beside me.
I tried to rise. My body wouldn't move. But my mouth still worked.
"…fuck… you…"
Silence.
Then a snort from my sensei. And a begrudging grunt from Enma.
"…Okay, Hiruzen. You were right."
He flipped me over so I could see him. The grin was gone. His eyes searched me.
"…I like this one."
Then he stood up.
And my vision filled with his descending foot.
—Scene break—
I groaned again as Naruko gently massaged the pungent medicinal salve into my bruised forehead.
"Come on," she huffed, "it can't hurt that bad. Jiji said you'll be fine by tomorrow."
I let out a particularly pitiful whimper, milking the moment.
"That man is a vicious tyrant," I muttered. "Him and his damn monkey."
Sarutobi sensei had healed me of the worst of it, but had left a significant amount of damage to heal naturally, something about medical ninjutsu removing the stimulus for physical adaptation, meaning a little pain was necessary.
In other words, like a true Wizard, he enjoyed watching his students suffer. I could respect the wizardry and still be pissed at him.
"…Does it really hurt that much?" Naruko asked, her voice suddenly soft.
I paused my theatrics at the shift in tone. Opening my eyes, I looked up at her from my place in her lap. Her golden twin ponytails framed her face, forming a halo that made her already cherubic features look positively angelic.
A fitting image, really—especially with her chakra shining around her in warm, radiant waves. It pulsed with joy and boundless affection, bright and blinding. But beneath it, I could feel the shadows. Scars she kept hidden. No one lived her life and came out untouched.
Still… that light was real. All hers. And it made her chakra beautiful in a way none of my other senses could really process.
I didn't want to dim that light.
"Sorry," I murmured. "I was just being dramatic."
"Well, stop it!" she pouted. "This isn't something to joke about!"
"Oh, that's rich," I shot back, grinning. "Coming from the Prankster Queen of Konoha."
"I haven't pranked anyone all week!" she huffed, pout deepening.
"…You haven't, have you?" I squinted up at her. "Who are you, and what have you done with Naruko?"
"Izukuuuu," she whined, dragging my name out with a theatrical groan—but didn't stop tending to the spot where Enma had shattered my mage armor. With a single flick of his massive finger. Damn beast.
I won't lie though—he knew his stuff.
That training session nearly broke me, but it forced a realization: I'd been holding back too much. Suppressing my emotions in a fight gave me more control. But that also choked off my spiritual energy. And that weakened my chakra.
Still, the answer wasn't to go full berserker either. I nearly killed myself today, just because I wouldn't stay down. If that had been a real battle, I might've died simply because I didn't know when to retreat—or talk.
A rustling in the grass broke my thoughts. Hinata trudged over, dirty and drenched in sweat, barely managing a grunt of greeting. She looked like she'd been through a warzone.
"Looks like it's my turn!" Naruko chirped, way too cheerful for someone who'd just been trading blows with Lee for over an hour. She scooped me up in a bridal carry—my face flushed, but I was too exhausted to complain—and unceremoniously dumped me in Hinata's lap.
Then she darted off toward the bouncing blur that was Lee.
"I-Izuku-kun…" Hinata murmured, blinking down at me.
"Hey, Hinata."
Her chakra felt like moonlight—cool and serene, shimmering silver hidden in a soft blue glow. Despite her flustered expression, she didn't push me away. Instead, she adjusted her posture, cradling me in her lap just as Naruko had.
Across the field, Neji—sparring with Tenten—flared with silent displeasure. I didn't need to look at him to sense it.
I ignored it. I didn't know what his problem was, and right now I had a pretty bluenette holding me. That took priority.
Hinata's chakra flared again, catching my attention. Her eyes closed, her Byakugan activating as she slipped into meditation. But I could feel the storm of frustration boiling inside her.
"Still having trouble?" I asked gently when she opened her eyes again. Her face crumpled. I could feel the self-recrimination seeping into her chakra like poison.
I bit down on the urge to tell her to stop blaming herself. She already knew it wasn't helping—pointing it out wouldn't make it easier.
"Want me to help again?"
"Yes!" she blurted before shrinking into herself. "I-I mean… if you want to… please…"
I smiled. Hinata really was too cute.
"Alright. Just relax."
I closed my eyes and cast one of my most-used jutsu—a thin thread of yin chakra extended from me to her. Her mind met it halfway, and our thoughts linked.
Without needing a prompt, Hinata activated her Byakugan again—and through her eyes, I saw the world from a god's eye view.
But something was different.
Has your range increased? I asked silently.
She didn't reply, but the burst of embarrassed pride and glowing flattery was answer enough. Hinata really was too humble for her own good.
Regardless, I would do my best to help out.
Try identifying all your worries, I sent. Everything that makes you anxious. Face them, and see what they come from.
I hoped this approach would make her less worried, by identifying her anxieties and putting them in their place.
She did as I asked.
And together, we reached an obvious conclusion: Hinata worried because she cared.
She worried about her prowess because she loved and wished to protect many people. She looked down on herself because she loved her father and wanted to meet his expectations, and it went on and on. Every worry was rooted in her affections.
Okay… now try listing the things you care about. Hold them in your heart.
She focused. Her favorite foods. Her favorite flower. The clothes she liked most. Her love for Naruko. Her love for—
Me?
I blinked in shock.
But Hinata was deep in trance now, and my thoughts bounced off the wall of her focus.
Then I felt it.
Her range—already absurd—ballooned from one kilometer to six. Her Byakugan swept the landscape like divine light.
But even more than that, her focus zeroed in on the ongoing fight between Naruko and Lee.
Naruko was losing. Of course she was. Lee had her beat in speed, strength, and technique. But Naruko was holding on, ducking and weaving with unpredictable movements and uncanny resilience.
Lee launched into a flying kick. Naruko dove beneath it, aimed a cheeky strike at his groin—missed, obviously, because even midair Lee was a freakish athlete.
Something about it didn't sit right. My chakra sense didn't match that.
I opened my eyes.
And watched the exact same scene play out.
Frame for frame.
My head snapped toward Hinata—and then I noticed her aura. It was growing faint.
She was burning through her chakra.
Hinata! I shouted in our mental link.
But she couldn't hear me. Her thoughts were barricaded behind the very emotions that had empowered her: love, compassion, devotion.
She had done it.
She had found the fuel we'd been searching for—the emotion to elevate the Byakugan.
But it wasn't what I expected.
I had thought indifference meant shutting the world out. Apathy.
But Hinata had found something else entirely.
Equanimity.
She didn't stop caring—she cared equally, about everything and everyone, more than herself.
And her Byakugan surged with divine power because of it.
But it was killing her chakra reserves.
I knew I had to break the trance. But pain wouldn't work—I could feel that physical discomfort wouldn't reach her.
I hesitated.
Then acted.
I cupped her cheeks, leaned in, and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to her lips.
The trance shattered like glass.
"I-Zuku! Y-you—"
"Sorry," I whispered. "I panicked."
Hinata stared cheeks a rosy red, then she fainted.
Silence reigned.
I looked up—and every single person in the training field was staring at us.
Of course they were.
How do I keep getting into situations like this?
—Scene break—
The tunnels beneath Konoha were a twisting labyrinth of stone and shadow. For him, they held as many memories of fellowship and purpose as they did of pain and desperation.
He had never wanted to return.
He had hoped—prayed, even—that Sasuke would end his life before he ever set foot in these depths again. But the status quo had to be preserved. His "masters" had to be managed, and safeguards had to be laid—for Sasuke's sake, if nothing else.
He followed a familiar passage, his steps echoing in the still air, until he reached the hidden chamber. His vision had begun to fail him over the years—darkness weighed heavier than it once did—but not so much that he missed what was wrong here.
Two Root agents stood out in the open, flanking Danzo's chair, unmoving.
That was wrong.
There should have been more—hidden, watching, ready to strike. Yet he couldn't sense another soul. The silence was absolute. His instincts prickled. He began molding chakra under his skin, just in case.
"Lord Danzo, you summoned me," he said aloud, his voice calm but wary.
He didn't expect the reply.
Especially not from the mouth it came from.
"Itachi-kun."
Itachi spun, Sharingan briefly flaring to life on reflex.
And froze.
Standing there, as composed and unassuming as ever, was Hiruzen Sarutobi.
Itachi dropped to one knee. "Hokage-sama."
"Stand, Itachi-kun. If anyone has earned the right to dispense with formality in my presence, it is you."
Itachi rose slowly, eyes flicking toward Danzo.
"Lord Danzo did not call for me."
"No," Hiruzen said mildly. "No, he did not."
Something shifted in the room.
It was subtle, almost imperceptible. A flicker of movement, the twitch of breath. Itachi glanced at the Root agents. For a moment, he thought his eyes deceived him.
They were trembling.
The elite—faceless, nameless, emotionless Root—were trembling.
"…Lord Third?" he asked, his tone carefully neutral.
"Hm?" Sarutobi replied, the same way a retired teacher might answer a polite question from a student.
"Danzo has not… spoken."
"Ah," Sarutobi nodded, turning to face the unmoving form. "Well, he is a very important man, Itachi-kun. His words are precious."
That's when Itachi heard it—the faint hiss of air moving through tubes, the hum of machinery, a whirring pulse in the silence.
With a flicker of chakra, his Sharingan bloomed fully.
The darkness fell away.
And what he saw chilled him to the marrow.
Danzo sat in his chair—if sitting was even the right word. His face was a ruin: pale skin pulled taut over hollow cheeks, black stitches weaving across what remained of his features. Portions of flesh were missing, exposing the ivory white of his skull. One eye socket was an open, glistening wound.
And below his neck—there was no neck.
Danzo's head rested on a grotesque construct: a wooden pedestal bolted to the floor. Beneath it, tubes and machines hissed and pulsed, red liquid pumping rhythmically, keeping what remained of his body alive. Two pale pink lung-bags expanded and deflated in time with the mechanical sounds, tethered to what must have been his remaining respiratory system.
Itachi suddenly understood the terror in the Root agents' chakra.
He was beginning to feel it himself.
"Lord Third," he said slowly, voice steady only by force of years of training and will.
"Hm?" Sarutobi hummed again, eyes distant, hands folded peacefully behind his back.
"…Danzo's condition?"
"Oh, don't mind that, Itachi-kun," Hiruzen said gently. "My old friend merely needed… guidance. As his leader, I saw it as my duty to provide it."
His tone was kind. Grandfatherly.
It made Itachi's skin crawl.
"I was fair. Objective, even. Left him the ability to serve his home. That's all any of us want, isn't it?"
He gestured casually to the horror on the pedestal, as though presenting a bonsai tree.
"Some of these punishments may seem lenient, but you must remember…" Sarutobi's expression softened further, a fond smile spreading across his lips as he stared at Danzo's mutilated form.
"Danzo only ever acted… for the good of the village."
XXXXXXXXX
A/N: Lord Enma is pleased!
Hiruzen shows the gleeful sadism that produced three legends!
Hinata takes a step closer to becoming a true byakugan princess!
We learn the fate of the cycloptean menace!
Why is Itachi back in Konoha?!
What the heck did Hinata just do?!
Has Hiruzen finally lost his shit?!