Chapter 17: Seeds in the Dark
Naruto lay back into the plush headboard, the softness at his spine a stranger's hand on his shoulder—too warm, too familiar. The bed was a thing meant for kings, or thieves who fancied themselves kings. The room wore its wealth like a fat merchant in festival robes: golden curtains whispering against each other in the draft, carpets so thick they might hide bodies, and oil paintings whose frames could buy a year's grain for a village.
This was no Marine's wage. This was rot gilded over, the stink covered with perfume.
The rat lives well.
Even without Haki, it bled from the walls—Nezumi's corruption. Every inch of this place had been wrung from the sweat of others. Naruto's frown deepened. Comfort did not relax him; it made his teeth itch. Comfort meant leverage, and leverage meant a hand to cut from the arm.
He stared at the ceiling, the gears turning. The thought came easy: kill him. The harder part was the question that followed—how to make it vanish into the air like a whispered secret? A Marine base would want answers, and he had no interest in wearing suspicion like a badge.
Then, a spark. The kind that lit fires in dry grass.
"That's it," he breathed. His voice was low, but in it lived a dangerous gleam. A death without a blade. A death without a mark.
He sat cross-legged on the bed, spine straight, breathing slow. The world outside his mind fell away. Through the threads of his Observation Haki, Nezumi's presence was a foul heat—still in his office, basking in vice. The man's energy was soft, indulgent, and rotten. Easy prey.
Naruto smiled without warmth. He called to his will, that black, crushing tide inside him. His Conqueror's Haki swelled until it pressed against his skin like armor. Then, with a thought sharp as a dagger point, he thrust it outward—direct, merciless—into Nezumi's mind and heart.
Far away, in an office reeking of expensive smoke and cheap perfume, Nezumi choked on nothing. His grin faltered into panic. One hand clutched at his chest as if he could hold his life in by force. He toppled forward into the lap of the woman beside him. She screamed at the sudden weight, screamed again when she saw his eyes fixed wide and empty.
The sound carried down corridors. Boots hammered on floorboards. Marines burst in to find their captain sprawled like a drunk, the whore shrieking beneath him. The scene was almost ordinary—Nezumi had fallen in worse company before—but the lack of blood, of violence, pulled at the edges of their certainty.
"What happened here?" one guard demanded.
"Do not struggle, woman," another barked as they dragged her away.
Somebody ran for the doctor. There would be questions later, theories spun, paper filled. But the cause would be written in quiet ink: heart failure.
In his room, Naruto leaned back into the bed's softness again. His smile this time was small and real. The rat was gone. The corridors beyond his door would be filled with confusion for hours, but he would not be among it.
One piece off the board. Many more to fall.
Good riddance.
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Naruto lay sprawled in the opulent bed like a weapon set down after too much use—edges dulled, metal strained, but still dangerous to touch. Sleep had found him, but not cleanly. It came in fits, in shallow breaths, each dream stitched with the faces of the dead and the taste of choices yet to be made.
The door went open as if kicked by a storm.
Naruto's eyes cracked open, the lazy fog of rest clinging to him, and there she was—Hina—filling the doorway with sharp edges and urgency. Her pink hair was mussed, her uniform skewed, the kind of disorder that came from moving before thought could catch up. Concern rode her face, but it was wrapped in anger, the kind born of fear.
"Hina?" His voice was rough, as if dragged over stone. "What are you doing here?"
She stepped in like she owned the room, the kind of entrance that ignored whatever authority the bed's current occupant thought he had. Her arms crossed over her chest, but her feet kept moving until she was close enough to see the lingering bruises at his jaw, the slow healing along his ribs.
"You ask why Hina is here?" Her voice cracked the space between them like a whip. "When you're half-broken and bleeding into someone else's bed? Obviously Hina is worried!"
Her eyes swept him over, not the way a soldier inspects a comrade, but the way someone checks the living to be sure they're not about to join the dead.
Naruto sat up, rubbing the weight of exhaustion from his face. A smile tried to form—clumsy, tired—but it came from the right place. "Sorry. Didn't think it through."
She didn't let the apology cut the tension, so he reached for her instead. His arms drew her in, slow and careful, as if afraid she might vanish if he held too tightly. Her body stiffened against him at first, the armour of her stance refusing to drop.
"Hmph." It was a sound that tried to pass for annoyance, but her heartbeat betrayed her, quick and hot against his chest. "Hina's not going to melt just because you're holding her. Hina will take care of you for a month. You're not going anywhere. Understand?"
He could have argued. He could have told her that the world doesn't wait for wounds to knit, that he had roads to walk and debts to collect. But there was something in the way she stood there—something softer than steel but no less binding. He nodded once. "Hmm. Okay."
Her eyes searched his, waiting for the catch, the twist, the loophole. When she found none, her voice dropped. "Really?"
"Really," he said, the word carrying more weight than it should have.
The tension broke in her laugh, relief spilling out between breaths. She wrapped herself tighter around him, burying her fear in the warmth of his chest. Naruto closed his eyes, feeling the strange weight of being wanted alive, the strange ache of knowing he'd have to leave it behind.
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The air in the room had settled into something fragile—warmth stretched thin over old wounds—when Smoker's voice cracked it like glass.
"If you two lovebirds are done, we can head home."
Naruto turned toward the doorway, lips tugging into a grin that was half amusement, half defiance. He pressed a quick kiss against Hina's cheek, a fleeting touch but enough to bloom a blush across her face. She looked ready to scold him for it, but her lips never caught the words.
"Alright, alright," Naruto said, giving Smoker a lazy wave. "Let me freshen up."
The washroom was cold tile and clearer air. Naruto splashed water on his face, chasing the weight of sleep from his eyes. The water smelled faintly of metal—reminding him of old battlefields and wet blood—but it did the job. He couldn't afford to stay dulled. The ship was waiting, and so was whatever came next.
When he stepped onto the deck, the sea stretched out before him—grey, shifting, and endless—and two unexpected figures waited alongside Smoker. Adam grinned like mischief personified.
"What are friends for, bro?" Adam's voice carried that irreverent warmth that made it hard to stay guarded. "This is just the standard."
Naruto smirked. "Was Z okay with that?"
"Yeah, totally fine," Adam lied without even bothering to look convincing. "Made sure to drag Drake along too, so I wouldn't be lonely."
Drake's glare could have stripped paint from the hull. "Damn bastard," he muttered, low enough for only himself to hear. His mind's eye painted futures where Adam's laughter ended—preferably with teeth missing and something's claws lodged where his smugness lived.
Naruto caught the undercurrent but let it slide. Rivalries could be sharpened into loyalty, given time. "Thanks for caring, guys," he said, and this time there was no armor in the words—just a truth he rarely let out.
Smoker's voice broke in, slower now, like he was measuring it. "I heard about the assassination attempt. You alright?"
Leaning against the railing, Naruto watched the horizon bleed its colors into the waves. "I'm fine. Just need some time to recover." His tone was easy, but there was steel under it. The kind that wouldn't let injury slow the march toward his goal.
Smoker's eyes narrowed, worry threading itself into the spaces between his usual grit. He didn't say it, but Naruto could read the question in the lines of his face—What can I even do to help?
The others drifted off to their corners of the ship, but Naruto stayed with Hina and Adam, the three of them sitting together as the wind carved its cold fingers through their hair. The sea ahead was nothing but distance, and distance was time. Time to heal. Time to think.
Naruto knew the path waiting beyond the waves wouldn't be kind—growth never was. It would be teeth and knives and the kind of choices you couldn't wash off. But for now, with friends close and the ship carrying them forward, he allowed himself something he rarely gave: the luxury of being grateful.
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The sea sprawled before him like an unrolled grave shroud, each wave a fold of grey silk over something cold and infinite. Naruto leaned into the railing, his eyes set on the distance. He could have been staring at nothing, but his thoughts were fixed on someone who was everything—Shiro.
Hope this changes her mind, he thought. The weight of it sat in his chest like a stone he'd swallowed. I don't want to lose her. Not now.
The voice beside him was a thread pulling him back from that depth.
"What are you thinking?" Hina asked. Calm words, but they carried the subtle iron of concern. She was close enough that the wind tangled her hair with his.
Naruto shook his head. "Nothing much," he lied, lips twitching at the edge of a smile. "Just wondering when I'll be strong enough to become an admiral."
Her brow lifted, but before she could answer, Adam's laugh cracked across the deck like a dropped glass.
"So you've already decided it's going to happen, huh? Just waiting for it to land in your lap? That's mountain-sized confidence."
Naruto didn't turn, didn't bite. Hina did for him.
"Don't laugh," she said, sharp as a cutlass. "If Naruto says it will happen, it's just a matter of time. You got a problem with that?"
Adam's grin shrank, hands going up in easy surrender. "Alright. I'm sorry. Happy now?"
Hina nodded, but her eyes stayed on Naruto. He hadn't moved much since she'd joined him—still fixed on the horizon as if something out there might blink first.
Adam broke the pause again, though softer this time. "You know… sometimes I wonder how good it'd feel to roam without rules. No Marine chain-of-command, no constraints. Just us. Doing what we want."
That earned him Naruto's attention. A shift of the eyes, the kind that made you feel measured in more ways than one. "Where's that coming from?"
Adam shrugged. "Not new. Always been like that. Feels suffocating sometimes. Orders from people more corrupt than the ones we're supposed to catch."
Naruto studied him as if the words had weight—and they did. "You trust us enough to say that out loud?"
Adam's grin didn't return this time. "I believe you'd understand. And I trust Hina not to be a traitorous bitch."
Hina bristled, turning her head sharply toward him. "Hey!"
"Sorry. Force of habit."
Naruto let it hang a second before he asked, "So… what are you going to do about it?" His tone was calm, but the curiosity was real.
Adam hesitated, then smirked with something halfway to respect. "Don't know. Just wanted to see if you'd toss out one of those deep answers you're hiding."
"When I have one worth giving," Naruto said, "you'll hear it."
Adam's smirk softened into something closer to gratitude. "Alright. Don't forget." He left then, the weight of his words bleeding off his shoulders as he crossed the deck.
Naruto watched him go, eyes narrowing slightly. He's going to break the rules. It's just a matter of when. And he won't care about the consequences. That kind of man either falls or flies—and the higher the risk, the better the view before the drop.
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Hina was still wearing the look people get when they've walked into the middle of a story and can't see the first page.
"What was he talking about?" she asked, her head tilting, voice steeped in curiosity rather than suspicion.
Naruto's answer came with a sigh, a slow release of air as though Adam's words still hung in his lungs.
"Nothing much," he said. But his tone had weight, the kind you couldn't laugh away. "He was looking for an answer—how to burn the rot out of the Marines… and the World Government."
Her brow knotted. "That's not our fight. We're still low-rank."
Naruto nodded, though his eyes had already left her for the horizon. "Better to look for an answer than have one forced into your hands," he said. The words were quiet, but they carried the stale taste of old regret.
Memories pressed against him—times he'd been dragged from one fate to another with no say in the matter. If I'd acted sooner, he thought, before the choice was made for me… But the past was a locked door. He had the key, and still, it wouldn't open.
Hina didn't need the details. She stepped closer until the air between them broke, and her arms slid around him. "Hina understands," she said, soft enough that it almost felt like a promise. "And I'll do my best not to let that happen. So don't wear that face."
Warmth threaded into his chest despite himself. She was comfort and anchor in one… but anchors can hold you down as well as keep you steady.
"Sorry," he murmured. His smile came back, but it carried an aftertaste—sweet, but with something metallic beneath. "Just an uncomfortable thought."
Her smile was the opposite—untarnished, almost painfully pure. "It's okay. Hina's with you. Be happy."
Then her lips were on his, soft at first, like the tentative knock of a guest unsure they're welcome. He let her in. His eyes closed, and he sank into her warmth—not just the kiss, but the certainty behind it. Certainty he'd built, brick by brick, with every gentle word and every calculated kindness.
His Haki whispered truth into him—an undercurrent beneath her affection. Obsession. Roots curling in her heart, tightening with each day she stayed close. Not accidental. Never accidental.
Good potential, he thought, deepening the kiss. I wonder what our children will be like. The idea was absurd in one sense, but it didn't leave. Maybe this time, I'll live through the ending. I think… I feel like living.
A strange thought for him, stranger still that it lingered. After years of blood and ambition, the idea of a future not carved entirely from violence had a sharp pull.
When they broke apart, she smiled as if nothing had shifted. Maybe for her, nothing had. For him, the horizon felt a little different.
He smiled back, the mask sliding neatly into place. For now, this is enough. Let's see how far this goes.
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The sun had bled itself out over Marineford, leaving the sky in shades of bruised orange and dying gold. Naruto's ship slid into harbor with the quiet of a blade returning to its sheath. But the air was wrong—tight, sour, coiled like a whip.
Z was waiting. The kind of man who looked carved from storm clouds and bad news, jaw set like he was grinding stone to powder. His eyes found Naruto and Adam, and the heat in them could have stripped paint from the hull.
"You little brats—who gave you permission to leave?" The question came like cannon fire, each word landing heavy enough to shake the boards.
Drake spoke first, quick to duck out from under the shot. "Sir, it wasn't me. Adam forced me."
Adam's grin was the smile of a man already halfway to hell and not much caring. "You little bitch."
Z came on, relentless. "Doesn't matter. You could've put up a fight. You didn't. That makes you both guilty. Three days in lock-up. Prisoner rations."
Guards moved fast, steel in their steps, hands ready. Drake muttered curses under his breath—small, bitter things—but Adam just laughed, the sound bright and wrong against the tension.
"That's more like it," Adam said, teeth flashing. "Show some bite. Be the dino you're meant to be."
Drake's silence said more than his words would have, as the two were marched off to stew in their cages.
The rest of the crew scattered, some into shadow, some into light. Naruto stayed, giving Z the smallest of bows before turning toward the captain's office.
Inside, the air was stale with paperwork and old battles. Z looked up from his desk, eyes sharp.
"So, who was it?"
Naruto sat. "Simon."
Z's mouth was a flat line. "Should've killed him when I had the chance. One slip, and they'd have been fishing your corpse out of the tide. We can't afford that kind of mistake."
Naruto's voice softened, carrying the weight of someone who knew the taste of regret. "Everyone makes a mistake, Teacher. Don't carry it alone."
For a heartbeat, Z's armor cracked. His hand, rough as rope, landed on Naruto's shoulder. "Thanks, boy. I'm proud of you."
Naruto inclined his head, but there was a different request hiding behind his eyes. "There's a reward for Simon's head. Instead of the money, I want you to find me a Sea King—something strong and mean. The world won't notice one less."
An eyebrow lifted. Z studied him like a man looking for lies in a mirror. "It's manageable. But don't make a habit of using me like this."
"I won't. This is different. It'll help me."
A long pause. Then: "Fine. I'll have it ready by morning. Go see the doctor."
Naruto left the office with the deal tucked safely in his pocket. The streets smelled of salt and steel. In his mind, he could already feel the medicine's bite—beast blood in his veins, marrow that remembered the deep, bones made to break stone.
Too slow, he thought. External strength was a poor crutch to lean on forever. He'd need someone who could bring that kind of power without the price tag of dead monsters. Someone useful. Someone loyal.
Tomorrow would bring the Sea King's flesh. For now, he'd take the medicine and let it work its way through him, weaving its quiet changes.
Every step toward power was a step away from dying—and he planned to take many more.
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The corridors smelled of paper, salt, and the faint, metallic tang of blood—a scent Naruto carried with him like a shadow. He had just left Z's office, the door still swinging shut behind him, when he saw her waiting.
Shiro.
She was perched on a low railing, legs swinging in idle rhythm, hair falling like silver threads into her eyes. The world seemed smaller around her, as if she claimed the space without meaning to.
"You took so long," she said, voice light as wind chimes, head tilting like a curious bird. "What kind of fun were you having without me?"
Naruto's steps slowed. With this Shiro, you played the part of the older brother, or she'd pout and make you regret it. "Just talking to Z," he said, tone dry. "Nothing you'd find fun."
Shiro's lips pressed into a mock pout. "I like talking! You always leave me out of the boring parts." She hopped down, closing the space between them with the unselfconscious ease of a child. "Next time, take me with you. I'll make it less boring."
For a moment, she seemed exactly what she wanted the world to see—small, harmless, a sister clinging to his orbit.
Then her eyes shifted.
It wasn't subtle. The warmth bled out of them like heat from cooling steel, leaving only the sharp, black edge beneath. Her shoulders drew back, her steps slowed. When she spoke again, her voice was a deeper thing, older, weighted with ghosts.
"I watched," she said. "You did well. Better than I expected. You're worthy to know me. To share in my clan's arts—blood shaped to will, the highest stage of our craft. You could ascend higher than you've ever dreamed."
Naruto didn't stop walking. "Stop treating me like a pawn in your game. You're not worthy of that kind of honor. No one is. I'm something bigger than you, bigger than all of you. Even now—" he turned, eyes catching hers, "—you couldn't beat me. What could you possibly give me?"
Her lips curved, but the expression was a predator's smile. "A cheap shot," she said. "That's what you landed when you saved me from the pirates. I was weakened then. Every kill I've taken since has fed me. It's been a month, Naruto." She stepped closer, shadows clinging to her like a second skin. "You're not so special."
He didn't raise his voice. He didn't have to.
"Don't think I need your permission to prove otherwise."
His gaze locked with hers, and chakra whispered from his mind into hers, sliding past her defenses like a knife into soft flesh.
The world around her vanished.
Shiro's breath caught as her mind's eye was dragged into something vast—an ocean of power that had no shore, a black sky lit only by burning shapes that were not stars. Each one pulsed with killing intent, enough to shatter the bones of immortals. The weight of it pressed down, colder than the grave and older than her clan's history.
And then—just as suddenly—it was gone.
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Naruto left her there—no farewell, no warning. Just the sound of his footsteps retreating down the hall, steady and unhurried, like a man who knew the end of the game before it began.
Dark Shiro stood in the stillness he left behind. Her child-face did not move, but her eyes… her eyes told the story.
What she'd seen in him was no trick of the light. Not a child's boast. Not the puffed-up pride of a young warrior drunk on his own legend. It had weight.
He wasn't so simple.
He wasn't young—not in the ways that mattered.
Older than his skin. Older than his bones, perhaps. She could see it now in the way he carried silence, in the way his gaze cut deeper than sight should go.
Knowledge clung to him like a second shadow—knowledge that didn't fit any book she'd read or any master she'd met. And power… a kind of power she didn't have a name for.
She had thought herself a force moving toward perfection—every kill feeding the shape she was meant to take. But he…
He was something else.
His ideal wasn't mortal. She could see the shape of it now—a stage where the world itself would bend to his whims, where desire and law would be the same thing because he willed it so. That was the stage he walked toward, and he had no shame in it.
An illusion? Perhaps. A reality? Time would tell.
But there was one truth she couldn't scrub away:
He'd never been a man to bluff.
She closed her eyes, the silence pressing in like the weight of deep water. The choice lay before her now. Become a part of his design… or be erased by it.