Naruto skidded to a halt, panting, his knuckles raw. This guy was a whole other level of freak. Bones erupted from his skin like grotesque blossoms, each one harder than steel. Every clone Naruto had sent at him had been impaled, dismembered, or shattered by a whip made of the guy's own goddamn spine.
And Sasuke… The memory was a fresh, stinging wound. The barrel had shattered, and Sasuke had simply… stood up. He hadn't said a word. Not a thank you, not a 'go to hell.' He'd just given Naruto one last look of cold, pitying contempt and vanished into the trees, leaving Naruto to face this bone-wielding monster alone. The betrayal hurt worse than any punch.
"Just hold still so I can kick your ass!" Naruto yelled, his frustration boiling over. He needed a new plan. The clones weren't working. He needed an opening, a single moment to form a Rasengan.
The bone-nin, Kimimaro, didn't respond. His face was a mask of serene, detached focus. He lunged, his movements a blur of impossible grace, the bones of his right arm coalescing into a long, tapered drill aimed directly at Naruto's heart.
Naruto braced himself, ready to dodge, to substitute, to do something—
FWOOOOOOOOOOSH!
A savage, roaring blast of wind slammed into Kimimaro from the side. It wasn't Naruto's jutsu. This was a hard, battering force, a miniature hurricane that kicked up a wall of dust and debris. Kimimaro with an almost supernatural grace, he used the force of the blast to execute a flawless mid-air backflip, landing lightly on his feet some meters away, his bone-drill receding back into his arm. He stood poised, his head tilted, analyzing the new threat.
Naruto stared, his own attack forgotten. He followed Kimimaro's gaze, looking towards the ridge of the valley. And his heart leaped into his throat.
Standing there, silhouetted against the afternoon sun, was a figure that made his breath catch. It was Hinata, her lavender jacket billowing around her like the cloak of a queen. Beside her, a silent, intimidating statue, stood Gaara, his gourd a familiar, menacing shape. And fanning out from them were the determined figures of Rock Lee and Temari, the latter slowly lowering her massive iron fan, a smirk of grim satisfaction on her face. Reinforcements had arrived. And they were glorious.
The four of them descended into the valley. The air crackled with their combined presence. Naruto's desperate, frantic energy visibly settled, his shoulders losing a fraction of their tension as his gaze locked onto Hinata. A wide, brilliant, and utterly relieved grin split his face.
"Hinata-chan!" he yelled, his voice filled with a joy. "You came!"
A warmth bloomed in Hinata's chest, a pleasant counterpoint to the cold, analytical focus of the battlefield. But there was no time. Her smile was a fleeting, private thing before her expression hardened back into the serene, implacable mask of a commander.
"Where is Sasuke-kun?" her doubled voice was a soft but absolute command.
Naruto's grin vanished, replaced by a scowl of bitter frustration. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, towards the distant end of the valley. "The bastard got out of the barrel and just… left. Didn't say a word. This bone-freak stayed behind to keep me busy."
Hinata's silver eyes narrowed, processing the tactical reality in a nanosecond. "Naruto-kun," she ordered, her voice leaving no room for negotiation. "Your mission is to retrieve Sasuke. Ours is to support you. Go. Continue the pursuit. We will handle this."
Naruto looked from Hinata's unshakable gaze to the serene, terrifying power of Kimimaro, then back again. He didn't argue. He didn't question. He just nodded, a new fire of determination in his eyes. "Right! Don't get yourselves killed!"
With a final, grateful look at Hinata, he spun on his heel and launched himself down the valley, a streak of orange against the brown earth.
Kimimaro moved instantly, his duty absolute. He flowed forward, a pale specter of death intent on intercepting his target. He never made it.
"Fūton: Ōkamaitachi! (Wind Release: Great Sickle Weasel!)"
A ferocious, slicing vortex of wind erupted from Temari's fan, slamming into Kimimaro's path. It forced him to alter his trajectory, to leap sideways into a defensive crouch. As he landed, a volley of white-hot fireballs screamed from the sky, impacting the ground where he would have been, forcing him back even further. By the time the dust settled, Naruto was already a distant, shrinking dot.
The four of them stood against the one. A tense, humming silence descended upon the valley floor. Kimimaro's calm, detached gaze swept over them, cataloging the new threats. The sand-wielder. The wind-user. The taijutsu specialist. And her. The monster in the form of a woman.
The battle began without a sound.
Temari moved first, a single, sweeping gesture of her fan unleashing a torrent of wind. It was a focused river of air designed to corral and constrict. Hinata, moving in perfect sync, unleashed her own jutsu.
"Katon: Hōsenka no Jutsu! (Fire Style: Phoenix Sage Fire Technique!)"
A hail of white-hot fire pellets flew into Temari's wind current. The wind whipped them into a chaotic, unpredictable storm of fire and air, a blistering vortex that forced Kimimaro into a constant, defensive dance. He flowed through the attack, his movements sublime and economical, but he was pinned down, unable to advance.
From his defensive posture, bone-like bullets, sharp and dense as steel, shot from his fingertips. "Teshi Sendan! (Ten-finger Drilling Bullets!)"
CRUNCH. THUD. THUD.
A wall of dense, churning sand erupted from the earth before them, catching the bone projectiles with a series of dull, heavy impacts. Gaara stood impassively, his arms crossed, a silent, absolute defense.
Kimimaro's patience, thin as it was, finally snapped. He exploded forward, a white blur against the green, the bones of his right arm elongating into a single, elegant, and lethally sharp blade. He was closing the distance, nullifying their ranged advantage.
He lunged for Temari.
And was met with a screech of alien metal and a shower of violet sparks.
Hinata stood before him, her own right arm no longer flesh, but a blade of polished, black Klyntar biomass, its edge humming with contained power. It had met his bone sword, stopping it dead.
Kimimaro's eyes, for the first time, widened in genuine shock. He felt the impact. This wasn't a ninjutsu coating. This wasn't a transformation. This was her arm. He was fighting another creature who weaponized its very own body.
The deadly dance began. It was a clash of flesh and bone. His movements were precise, elegant, the refined art of a perfect weapon honed through years of pain. Hers were fluid, adaptive, predatory, the movements of a creature that could reshape itself to any need in the space between breaths. Bones erupted from his elbows, his knees, his shoulders, a chaotic porcupine of death. But for every new blade he manifested, her own form flowed and shifted to counter it. A shield of black biomass here, a lashing tendril there.
Her Klyntar sword slammed against his bone blade again, but this time, the impact was different. It carried a heavy, concussive force that sent a jarring shockwave up his arm, making the bones ache. And then, it began to crackle.
"Raikōken! (Lightning Arc Blade!)"
Brilliant white Raiton energy coursed along the length of her black blade. The next time their swords met, a massive jolt of electricity shot through his bone, an agonizing current that made his entire nervous system scream in protest.
He disengaged, leaping back, his mind reeling. She was faster than that Blonde. Her defense was absolute. And her offense was a terrifying, unpredictable fusion of everything.
He made a decision. He coiled and leaped high into the air, seeking the vertical advantage, a moment to re-assess and rain death from above.
He found only a different kind of death waiting for him.
"The time for youth to explode is now!" Rock Lee's voice roared from above. He was a green comet, arcing through the sky in a flying kick of devastating force.
Kimimaro saw him coming. He twisted in mid-air, raising a newly formed shield of bone from his left arm, ready to intercept, to break the boy's leg and send him plummeting.
Zzzzzzzzz-CRACK!
A projectile of pure, grinding lightning, a Shō-Raikōsen (Small Lightning Drill), slammed into his side. The pain was secondary to the effect: a massive, debilitating jolt of electricity that made his entire body seize up, his muscles locking in a full-body charley horse. His defense wavered for a split second.
It was all Lee needed.
Lee's kick connected with the force of a falling meteorite. Kimimaro's bone shield shattered, and he was blasted downwards, a broken puppet with its strings cut, crashing into the valley floor in a cloud of dust and shattered rock.
He lay in the crater, his vision swimming, his body screaming. He heard the roar of wind above him. Temari.
"Fūton: Daitoppa! (Wind Style: Great Breakthrough!)"
A focused cyclone of wind slammed down on him, pinning him to the earth, stripping away the dust and debris.
And then he saw her, high above, a dark angel against the bright blue sky. Her hands came together.
"Katon: Karyū Endan! (Fire Release: Fire Dragon Flame Bullet!)"
A colossal dragon of pure, white-hot fire erupted from her mouth. It dove towards the valley floor, but as it descended, it met Temari's cyclone. The two forces merged, a beautiful and horrifying spectacle of elemental fusion. The fire dragon became a roaring firestorm, a spiraling vortex of incandescent rage.
It slammed into the crater where Kimimaro lay, and the world dissolved into a cataclysm of light and sound.
The inferno receded as quickly as it had come, the roaring vortex of wind and white fire collapsing in on itself, leaving behind a crater of smoking, blackened earth and a silence that was more jarring than the explosion itself. The air, thick with the smell of ozone and fused sand, was unnervingly still.
Temari lowered her fan, her breathing heavy. "Well?" she asked, her voice tight with anticipation as she looked at Hinata. "Did we get him? Is it over?"
Beside her, Lee stood poised on the balls of his feet, his fists clenched, his entire body a coiled spring of readiness, his own hopeful gaze fixed on their team leader.
Hinata remained motionless, a towering statue of calm focus. Her silver-lilac eyes, still blazing with the light of her Byakugan, did not waver from the epicenter of the blast.
The host's life force is diminished, severely, Venom observed, his tone a dispassionate medical report. But it has not been extinguished. The parasitic seal is… adapting. It is burning the last of his reserves in a desperate, chaotic power surge.
"Negative," Hinata's doubled voice was a low, steady hum that cut through the uneasy quiet. "He is alive." She paused, her gaze narrowing as she processed the horrific transformation happening within the smoke. "And he is… standing up."
A figure emerged from the billowing smoke and steam, stepping into the harsh light of the valley. It was a nightmare given flesh. The curse mark had consumed him. His skin was now a dark, cracked tan, like ancient clay. His white hair flowed wildly, and his features were twisted into a demonic parody of his once-handsome face. Giant, grotesque bone structures erupted from his back and shoulders, forming jagged, organic pauldrons. His spine had elongated, now a thick, whip-like tail of serrated vertebrae that swayed menacingly behind him. He was a living cage of death.
For the first time since the battle began, he spoke, his voice a calm, detached baritone that was utterly at odds with his monstrous form.
"Impressive," he said, his gaze sweeping over the four of them before settling, with an almost academic interest, on Hinata. "Very impressive. To force me to this state… you are a warrior of exceptional quality, Hyuuga." He gave a slight, almost courtly inclination of his horned head. "My name is Kimimaro. And this is where your lives ends."
With a grace that defied his grotesque form, he lunged.
The battlefield erupted.
"Sabaku Fuyū! (Desert Suspension!)" Gaara commanded. The very ground of the valley floor dissolved, rising into a churning, swirling sea of sand that he controlled with a flick of his wrist. It was a redefinition of the entire battlefield. The terrain was now his.
Kimimaro was too fast. He danced across the shifting, treacherous surface of the sand as if it were solid ground, a pale demon moving with impossible speed. Temari unleashed another blast of wind, attempting to catch him, but he weaved through it, the gale parting around him like water around a striking serpent. He was a blur, too fast for Lee to intercept, too unpredictable for Temari to pin down.
Only Hinata could keep pace.
"A monster… to fight a monster," she murmured, the decision made.
The black biomass erupted over her, a fluid, living tide that flowed with a terrifying grace. The lavender Chuunin vest was consumed, replaced by the sleek, powerful contours of her full Klyntar form. Her hime-cut hair whipped freely around the smooth, featureless mask with its dead-white, jagged eyes.
She met Kimimaro's charge head-on.
His eyes widened again, this time with a dawning, horrified understanding. He was seeing a reflection. A more perfect, more elegant, and infinitely more terrifying version of his own monstrous nature. "What… are you…?" he breathed.
The answer was the screech of bone against alien flesh. From Hinata's back, four powerful Klyntar tendrils erupted, each one spitting a volley of Hōsenka fire pellets, a constant harassing fire. Her main arms became a whirlwind of Raikō Sōga (Lightning Claw Fang), each slash of her crackling talons aimed to kill.
Kimimaro was her equal in the dance. His spine-whip lashed out, a serrated blur that she was forced to block with a hardened Klyntar shield. Drills of solid bone erupted from his palms, which she parried with her own lightning-wreathed blades. It was a beautiful, horrifying spectacle, a maelstrom of white bone and black biomass, of disciplined grace and predatory fury.
He tried to leap back, to gain distance, but Temari was waiting. A focused blade of wind slammed into his side, forcing him back into the fray, directly into Hinata's waiting grasp.
He was cornered.
"It is time to end this," Gaara stated, his voice devoid of all emotion.
The sea of sand beneath Kimimaro's feet surged upwards as a grasping, coiling hands.
"Sabaku Kyū! (Desert Coffin!)"
Tendrils of sand shot up, wrapping around Kimimaro's legs, his arms, his torso. He struggled, his monstrous strength immense, his bone blades tearing at the grasping sand. But for every tendril he shattered, two more took its place. He was being immobilized, pulled down into the granular prison.
He roared, a sound of pure, defiant will, and began to force his way free.
But Hinata was on him. She descended like a dark angel, a relentless storm of lightning and concussive force. Her attacks were a brutal, systematic dismantling. Each lightning-infused blow slammed into his trapped form, the electricity coursing through the sand and his own bones, disrupting his chakra, stunning his muscles, and preventing him from mustering the strength to escape.
He was trapped. Helpless. He looked up and saw Gaara, his hands coming together in a final, prayer-like gesture.
"Sabaku Sōsō! (Sand Waterfall Funeral!)"
A deep, wet, final CRUNCH. A sound of immense, irresistible pressure. The sound of a body giving way, of bone and flesh and will being compressed into nothingness.
The sand receded, slumping back to the valley floor.
A deep, and uneasy silence fell over the four of them as they stared at the spot where Kimimaro had been.
The crushing silence that followed was heavy. The sand settled back onto the valley floor, leaving no trace of the monstrous pressure that had been exerted, save for the uneasy quiet that hung heavy in the air.
Hinata, still wreathed in the flowing black biomass of her Klyntar form, did not relax. Her head was tilted, the dead-white eyes of her mask fixed on the spot where Kimimaro had been annihilated. Her Byakugan, a silver piercing light within the alien visage, was running a frantic, high-speed scan.
Energy signature fluctuating, Venom reported, his voice a cold, urgent whisper in the shared space of their mind. The host's life force is collapsing, but he is… re-routing it. All of it. Into a final, catastrophic biological cascade.
Hinata's vision confirmed it. The faint, guttering flame of Kimimaro's life force was flaring into a final, suicidal supernova. Beneath the sand, a vast, complex network of bone was growing, feeding on the last of his vitality, preparing to erupt. There was no time to explain. There was only time to command.
Her voice, amplified by the symbiote, boomed across the valley, a sound of absolute, terrifying authority that vibrated in the very bones of her teammates.
"
As she roared the command, her own form acted. Two vast, leathery, bat-like wings erupted from her back, catching the air with a powerful WHOOMPH, lifting her clear of the treacherous ground.
Gaara's reaction was instantaneous, a testament to his own newfound clarity and his immediate acceptance of her command. He acted quickly. The sand at his feet surged, forming a solid, stable disc that shot upwards, lifting him, a shocked Temari, and a bewildered Lee into the sky just as the world below them broke apart.
GRIND. CRACK. RRRRRIP.
It was the sound of the earth itself screaming in protest. From the ground where they had just been standing, a forest of death erupted. Colossal pillars of bleached-white bone, thick as ancient redwoods and sharp as surgical steel, tore through the sand and soil, clawing their way into the sky. In seconds, the entire valley floor was a dense, impenetrable forest of jagged, lethal spires. The trio on their floating sand platform were trapped, surrounded by a cage of pure, weaponized bone.
And then, from a pillar just a few feet away, he emerged.
Kimimaro flowed from the bone as if it were water, his body a grotesque masterpiece of will and agony. His face was a mask of furious frustration, his eyes burning with the last, defiant embers of his life. The bones of his right arm had coalesced into a single, massive, spiraling drill, a weapon meant to deliver one final, definitive death blow.
"You will… become… the foundation… of Lord Orochimaru's ambition!" he roared, and launched himself at the three shocked shinobi on the platform.
Time seemed to slow. Temari's fan was half-raised. Lee was a coiled spring of unreleased potential. Gaara's sand was a half-formed shield. They were too slow. They were going to die.
And then the hurricane arrived.
A living meteor of black biomass and white lightning slammed into Kimimaro from the side.
"Hakkeshō: Kyodai Raikō Kaiten! (Eight Trigrams Palms: Gigantic Lightning Drill Revolving Heaven!)"
It was Hinata, her entire body a spinning vortex of destruction. Her ultimate defense had been fused with her ultimate offense. The grinding, disintegrating power of her Raikōsen was now a mobile, self-propelled aura of annihilation.
The impact was absolute. The screech of the lightning drill fusing with the roar of her Kaiten was a deafening shriek that tore the air apart. Kimimaro's bone drill shattered, ground into a cloud of fine, white dust. The rest of his body was caught in the vortex, torn apart, and incinerated in the same instant.
What was left of his corpse, a blackened and unrecognizable thing, fell from the sky, tumbling down into the forest of bone he had created, finally and truly silent.
The four of them gathered on the sand platform, now lowered to hover just above the lethal spires. They stared down at the spot where the body had fallen.
Temari let out a long, shaky breath. "Okay," she said, her voice laced with a weary, cynical finality. "Now I think we got him."
A soft, whooshing sound made them turn. Hinata landed on the platform, her Klyntar wings folding seamlessly back into her body. And for the first time, her new teammates saw her true form up close.
Lee's breath caught in his throat. His gaze held a pure, artistic admiration for the form before him. The sleek, powerful legs, the impossibly trim waist, the full, high bust, all encased in living, midnight-black armor that pulsed with a soft, silver light. "Such… splendor!" he breathed, his voice filled with pure awe. "The perfect fusion of power and youthful grace! It is… magnificent!"
Temari's reaction was more grounded, more visceral. Her eyes roamed over Hinata's form with a sharp, appraising gaze, a flicker of something that was part envy, part disbelief. "Gods…" she muttered, shaking her head. "It's not even fair. She's built like a damn statue carved from nightmares and dreams."
Gaara simply watched, without any fear nor shock. There was only a deep silent recognition. He was looking at another monster, another being who carried a power beyond human comprehension. But where his had been a chaotic, raging prisoner of sand and hatred, hers was a thing of sublime, controlled. He was seeing a kindred spirit who had achieved the balance he was only just beginning to seek.
Hinata stood for a moment, letting their gazes wash over her, before the sleek, black mask flowed away from her face like receding water, revealing her own serene features. The rest of the armor dissolved back beneath her skin, leaving only the faint, glowing silver patterns as a reminder to the monster within.
Her silver-lilac eyes, now clear and human again, scanned the horizon.
"We need to move," she stated, her voice the calm, resonant eye of the storm. "Naruto-kun is still out there."
And without another word, she leaped from the platform, a lavender streak against the bone-white forest, racing towards a battle that was not yet over.
The rain fell in steady, gray sheets, washing over the Valley of the End in a mournful cascade. It slicked the stone faces of the two colossal statues, carving clean runnels through the grime and moss, making it seem as if the long-dead founders of Konoha were weeping at the devastation below. The air was thick with the scent of ozone, wet stone, and blood. The river, once clear, ran murky with churned-up silt and the lingering, malevolent remnants of two titanic chakra clashes.
Naruto stood in the middle of the churning water, the rain plastering his orange jacket to his skin. The last vestiges of the Kyuubi's raw, crimson chakra receded from his form like a dying fever, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion and a cold, concentrated fury that was far more terrifying than any bestial rage. In his right hand, a kunai still hummed with a visible sheath of wind chakra, its edge elongated and lethally sharp from his Fūton: Shinkūjin (Wind Release: Vacuum Blade). His left hand, held open, fizzled with the last, dissipating sparks of a Rasengan that had found its mark. His blue eyes, hard as sapphires, were fixed on the far bank.
Embedded in the sheer rock face of the valley wall, in a crater of shattered stone, was Sasuke. He was a broken thing, a grotesque parody of the prodigy he once was. The curse mark's foul transformation was still active, his skin a dead, ashen gray, but it was failing. One of the fleshy, hand-like wings that had sprouted from his back had been completely sheared off, and the other hung at a useless, mangled angle. He was battered, bruised, and barely clinging to consciousness, held in place only by the unforgiving stone.
"I was going to help you," Naruto said, his voice quiet but carrying with an unnerving clarity over the sound of the rain. "After the exams… I was going to teach you the Rasengan. Properly. We were going to get stronger. Together."
He took a slow, deliberate step forward, the water swirling around his ankles.
"I was even going to ask Hinata-chan," he continued, the name causing a flicker of something pained and protective in his eyes. "To help. To see if there was a way to fix that… that poison that serpent asshole put in you. Because she's strong. And she's smart. And she fixes things."
His voice finally rose, tinged with a raw, bewildered anger. "So you tell me, Sasuke! Why?! Why this?! Why him?! Why run to the one person in this world who loves seeing people suffer?! What could he possibly give you that was worth… all of this?"
Sasuke's head lolled up, his one visible Sharingan eye blazing with a weak, but still hateful, crimson light. A ragged, hate-filled whisper escaped his bruised lips, laced with spittle and rain. "You… know nothing… orphan…"
His breath came in ragged gasps, each word an effort. "You have no family… no clan… no legacy to avenge! You don't understand the weight of it! The hate! He offered me power, dobe! The power I need! The only thing that matters! He is a means to an end! A tool to kill him!"
The litany of excuses, of justifications born from pain and pride, washed over Naruto. And to him, in the cold, clear light of his own hard-won strength and the bonds he had forged, it all sounded so… stupid. It was the desperate reasoning of a child choosing to set himself on fire because he was cold.
Naruto let Sasuke finish, let the last of his hateful whispers be carried away by the rain. When it was clear he was done, Naruto's cold fury seemed to settle, to solidify into something else. Resolve.
"Is that all?" he asked calmly. The simple question dismissed Sasuke's entire worldview, his grand tragedy, as nothing more than noise. "They're just excuses, Sasuke. And they're not good enough."
He began to walk forward, a shimmering aura of wind chakra now wrapping around his body, kicking up spray from the river's surface. "We'll talk. When I drag your ass back to Konoha."
He was halfway there, his hand reaching out, ready to pull his friend from the wreckage of his own making.
SHIIIIING!
A projectile, vast and almost invisible save for the way it distorted the falling rain, sliced through the air. It was a giant, transparent shuriken, and it moved with lethal speed. Naruto threw himself sideways, the wind from its passage tearing at his jacket as it embedded itself deep into the rock wall just inches from his head.
He landed in a defensive crouch, his Vacuum Blade kunai held at the ready. "Now what?!" he roared in pure frustration. "Another one?!"
KRRRRR-CHUNK. KRRRR-CHUNK. KRRRR-CHUNK.
The ground between him and Sasuke began to tremble. With a sound like grinding glaciers, colossal pillars of shimmering, clear crystal erupted from the riverbed and the valley walls. They shot upwards, intersecting, forming a beautiful but impenetrable barrier that completely cut him off from Sasuke. Before he could even formulate a plan, the tips of the crystal pillars began to glow, and smaller, sharper crystals began firing from them like high-velocity ammunition.
Naruto was forced back, deflecting the crystal shards with frantic slashes of his wind-infused kunai, the impacts ringing like dissonant bells. He was being systematically pushed further and further away.
A figure landed lightly atop the newly formed crystal wall. A woman. She had sharp, angular features, and her short, violet hair was tied back in a practical ponytail. A smirk of predatory amusement played on her lips as she looked down at the scene, her amethyst eyes glittering with cold confidence.
"Well, well," she said, her voice smooth and mocking. "Looks like I arrived just in time. Lord Orochimaru's new little pet was getting a bit scuffed up."
She hopped down from the wall on Sasuke's side, her movements graceful and assured. She walked over to the battered, semi-conscious Uchiha and, with a grunt of effort, hoisted his limp form onto her shoulders. She looked at his pathetic, curse-marked state with open disdain. "You're more trouble than you're worth, you know that?"
Naruto roared in fury and tried to charge the barrier, but another avalanche of crystal pillars erupted from the ground before him, a solid, growing wall of transparent death, forcing him to leap back to avoid being impaled. He was trapped, helpless, watching as the enemy simply… collected her prize.
The four of them arrived at the Valley of the End to a scene of mournful devastation. The rain had washed the air clean, but it couldn't wash away the scars. The colossal statues of Hashirama and Madara were further damaged, new wounds gouged into their ancient stone faces. But the most jarring feature, the one that defied all natural explanation, was the crystal.
It grew in alien, beautiful, and terrifying formations. A massive, impenetrable barrier of shimmering, transparent pillars bisected the valley. Smaller, sharper clusters erupted from the ground like the teeth of some long-dead god. They caught the grey light of the overcast sky and refracted it into a thousand glittering, soulless points.
Temari let out a low, disbelieving whistle, her eyes wide with a strange, avaricious light. "By all the blistering sands," she breathed, her voice a mixture of awe and raw greed. "Are those damn things diamonds?"
Hinata ignored her, her focus absolute. The relief she felt was a calming wave, so potent it almost made her knees weak. Her Byakugan had already found him. There, on their side of the crystalline wall, standing alone in the rain-slicked mud, was Naruto. He was soaked, battered, and radiating an exhaustion so deep it was a tangible presence, but he was standing. He was alive.
Without a word, she leaped down into the valley, her team following her lead. They landed softly on the muddy bank, the sound of their arrival muffled by the steady drumming of the rain.
Naruto looked up, his shoulders slumping as he saw them. The hard, cold fury in his eyes softened into a weary, grateful recognition. "Hey," he managed, his voice hoarse. "Took you guys long enough."
Hinata was at his side in an instant, her enhanced eyes scanning him for injury. No fatal wounds. Deep chakra exhaustion. Bruises. Cuts. He would live. The tension she hadn't even realized she was holding uncoiled from her spine.
"Are you hurt, Naruto-kun?" she asked, her voice a soft, resonant hum that seemed to push back against the gloom of the valley. She then looked past him, at the empty, shattered space where Sasuke had been. "Where is he?"
Naruto's face twisted, the weariness momentarily replaced by a fresh surge of bitter anger. "Gone," he spat, the word like poison on his tongue. He pointed a trembling finger at the crystal wall. "I almost had him. I swear, Hinata-chan, I had him! But then… she showed up."
He described the woman with the violet hair, her mocking voice, her impossible crystal jutsu. He recounted how she had effortlessly blocked him, plucked Sasuke from the wall like a ripe fruit, and simply… left.
"And Sasuke…" Naruto's voice began to rise, his fists clenching at his sides. "He didn't even fight it! He just went! After all that crap he spouted about power and revenge… It's all so stupid! He's throwing his whole life away for that snake-bastard, and for what?! Some stupid, hateful promise! He's an idiot!"
He was starting to spiral, his frustration and pain coiling into a self-sustaining rage. Hinata took a quiet step forward and gently placed a hand on his arm. The touch was simple, grounding. His rant sputtered to a halt, and he looked at her, his angry blue eyes meeting her calm, silver-lilac gaze. He let out a long, shuddering breath, the fury draining out of him, leaving only a hollow ache.
Hinata turned her gaze back to the valley, her Byakugan flaring to its full power. She scanned the horizon, pushing her perception to its absolute limit, searching for any trace, any lingering wisp of chakra. There was nothing. The crystal seemed to absorb and scatter her vision, and beyond it, the trail was utterly cold. Added to the rain which should erase all the remaining traces. It was as if Crystal kunoichi and Sasuke had simply ceased to exist.
The female's jutsu leaves no residual chakra signature, Venom noted with a grudging, academic respect. A perfect method for obscuring one's retreat. She is a skilled one.
"They are gone," Hinata declared, the finality in her voice a heavy weight. "Their trail is cold. The mission… is a failure. We need to return to Konoha."
The words hung in the air, a bitter pill for all of them. Naruto just stared at the crystal wall, his shoulders slumped in defeat.
A moment later, he seemed to shake himself from his stupor. A new, more practical light entered his eyes. He began walking towards the nearest crystalline cluster, where Temari and Lee were already examining the strange formations with a mixture of greed and curiosity.
"I wonder if they are strong," Lee mused, tapping one of the smaller pillars with his knuckle. It rang with a clear, resonant tone, like striking solid steel. "Perhaps they would be good for a new, more youthful training regimen!"
"Forget that," Temari scoffed, her eyes gleaming as she ran a hand over a multifaceted surface. "I wonder what they're worth. A girl could set herself up for life with a few chunks of this stuff."
Naruto approached them, ignoring their chatter. He raised his right hand, the kunai still humming with its invisible wind blade. With a high-pitched whine, he brought the Fūton: Shinkūjin (Wind Release: Vacuum Blade) down on the edge of a large crystal outcrop. It sheared off a clean, palm-sized chunk with perfect precision. He caught it, inspecting its flawless, transparent structure before carefully wrapping it in a spare cloth and stowing it in his pouch.
"Granny Tsunade needs to see this," he said, his voice now filled with a grim purpose. "She needs to know what we were up against."
Temari's eyes glistened. "He's right," she declared, a little too brightly. "For… intelligence purposes." She immediately began breaking off several smaller, easily portable shards of her own, stuffing them into her pouches with a satisfied glint in her eye.
Hinata watched them, a small, weary smile touching her lips. Even in failure, even in the heart of this sad, broken place, her friends found a way to be themselves. She turned her back on the weeping statues and the crystal cage, her gaze fixed on the long path home. The weight of their failure was heavy, but the thought of the long, quiet walk back to Konoha, beside him, was a small, selfish comfort she allowed herself to hold onto.
A heavy, weary silence permeated the Hokage's office, thick with the ghosts of failure and the grim scent of rain-soaked shinobi. On the center of Tsunade's desk, a large, jagged chunk of flawless crystal. Before the desk stood the remnants of the extended pursuit squad: Hinata, a pillar of quiet, coiled power, Gaara, a statue of serene stillness, Shikamaru, slouching with a weariness that went beyond physical exhaustion, and Naruto, vibrating with a tense, frustrated energy.
Tsunade leaned back in her chair, the leather creaking in protest. She stared at the crystal, then at the four shinobi before her. "The primary objective of the mission," she began, her voice flat and devoid of its usual fire, "was not met. Sasuke Uchiha has escaped Konoha's jurisdiction. Our intelligence suggests he is in the company of a new, high-level operative of Orochimaru's, this crystal-user."
She tapped a manicured nail against the crystal shard. "However, a mission is never a total loss. We've gained invaluable intelligence on Orochimaru's elite guard. We have confirmed the abilities of his shinobi, and additional, far more dangerous operative. And," she picked up a mission report, her eyes scanning it before flicking up to meet Hinata's, a single, sharp eyebrow raised, "we have acquired a prisoner. One of Orochimaru's inner circle, who I'm told is still recovering after being… subdued… by a highly unorthodox incapacitation method."
A sudden, violent blush flooded Hinata's cheeks, a wave of crimson so intense that the silver Klyntar markings on her skin seemed to glow with a pinkish hue. She instinctively brought a hand up to her mouth, her professional composure shattering for a brief, mortifying moment. Beside her, Shikamaru groaned softly and averted his eyes, rubbing the back of his neck as if trying to erase the memory. Gaara remained impassive, his calm gaze unwavering.
Naruto, however, blinked in confusion. "Unorthodox? What happened? What'd you do, Hinata-chan?"
Hinata looked as if she wanted the floor to swallow her whole.
Tsunade let a grim, humorless smile touch her lips for a second before her expression hardened again. The moment of levity was over. "But that brings us to the most difficult order of business." Her voice dropped, taking on the heavy, unyielding weight of her office. "Effective immediately, Sasuke Uchiha is to be designated a missing-nin. His name and likeness will be added to the Bingo Book with an order to capture, not kill, if possible."
"What?!" Naruto exploded, stepping forward. "You can't! It wasn't his fault! It was that curse mark, that snake-bastard's poison! He wasn't thinking straight!"
"That may be," Tsunade countered, her voice sharp as glass. "But in the eyes of the other great nations, Naruto, it is speculation. What they see is a Konoha shinobi willingly leaving the village to join forces with an S-rank international criminal. He wasn't dragged away screaming. He chose to go."
She stood up, her presence filling the room. "As long as he wears that Leaf headband, his actions reflect on this village. If he and Orochimaru attack a Daimyo, if they destabilize another nation, it could be seen as an act of war perpetrated by Konoha. Declaring him a missing-nin severs that tie. It is a political necessity to protect this village. It is a painful decision, but it is the only one I can make."
The cold, hard logic of it slammed into Naruto. He stood there, his fists clenched, his jaw working silently. The anger at Tsunade's decision drained away, replaced by a hot, bitter fury directed at its source. "That… stupid… asshole," he seethed, the words a low growl. He was an idiot who had forced their own village to brand him an enemy.
"The mission is complete," Tsunade said, her voice softer now, tinged with a deep weariness. "You all performed beyond expectations under impossible circumstances. You have brought honor to this village. Dismissed."
The four of them filed out of the office, the heavy silence returning. They walked through the corridors of the tower and out into the late afternoon sun, the normal, bustling life of the village feeling strangely distant. Without a word, their path bent, their footsteps finding a shared, unspoken direction. They were heading towards the Konoha hospital, towards the friends who were still paying the price for their desperate chase.
The walk to the hospital was a quiet, somber procession. The shared weight of their failure was a tangible thing, pressing down on their shoulders more heavily than any mission pack. At the main intersection, Temari and Kankuro joined their small group, falling into step without a word. There was no need for explanation. The grim set of their faces, the exhaustion etched around their eyes, it was a language they all now spoke fluently.
The hospital corridors smelled of antiseptic. Hinata led the way, her towering form parting the crowds of worried civilians and harried medics. She stopped first at a room near the end of the hall. Inside, Neji was propped up against a set of pillows, his arm and chest heavily bandaged. Lee and Tenten were with him, their presence a quiet vigil.
"Neji-niisan," Hinata said softly, her doubled voice a calming resonance in the sterile room.
Neji's head snapped up, his one uncovered eye widening slightly. "Hinata-sama. You have returned." The formality was still there, but the old, biting condescension was gone, replaced by a deep, weary respect.
"That was a most youthful display of power, Hinata-san!" Lee proclaimed, giving her a wobbly thumbs-up. "You were a whirlwind of righteous fury!"
Tenten just nodded, her eyes full of an unspoken awe that still hadn't faded.
"Rest well," Hinata said, her gaze soft. "Your strength will be needed again soon."
She gave a small bow and moved on. Peeking into the next room, she saw Choji sitting up in bed, surrounded by a mountain of empty food wrappers, with Ino nagging him and Shikamaru looking on with weary amusement. They were alright. The thought was a small comfort.
Her final stop was Kiba's room. She found him grumbling as his older sister, Hana, meticulously re-wrapped a bandage on Akamaru's paw. The ninken whined softly, leaning into her touch.
"Hinata!" Kiba's face split into a wide grin the moment he saw her. "You're back! Did you kick that last guy's ass?"
Hana looked up, and her professional demeanor broke for a second. Her eyes widened as she took in Hinata's full height. "Gods, kid, what have they been feeding you?" she muttered, before a grateful smile touched her lips. "Thank you. For getting there in time. My stupid little brother owes you one."
"Hey! I had him on the ropes!" Kiba pouted, which only made Akamaru lick his face.
Hinata smiled, a genuine, warm expression. "He fought bravely."
Leaving the room, she saw them down the corridor. Naruto. Sakura. Karin. They were clustered near a window, the late afternoon light casting long shadows. Sakura's shoulders were shaking with silent sobs, and Naruto had a hand placed awkwardly on her shoulder, a gesture of clumsy, heartfelt comfort. Karin stood beside them, her sharp features softened with an unexpected gentleness, her voice a low murmur of reassurance. He was keeping his promise to be there for his teammate.
The sight was both heart-wrenching and strangely beautiful. Not wanting to intrude, Hinata turned and headed for the stairs that led to the roof.
She was standing there for only a few minutes, looking out over the village she had fought to protect, when she heard his footsteps. Naruto came to stand beside her, leaning his arms on the railing, the silence stretching between them, comfortable and heavy.
Finally, he broke it, his voice trying for a casual tone that didn't quite land. "Figured I'd… I dunno. Punch him in the face, then buy him ramen. That was the plan." He let out a dry, humorless laugh. "Stupid, right?"
He fell silent again, his gaze fixed on the endless sea of rooftops, on the distant, scarred faces of the Hokage monument.
"I don't know what to do, Hinata-chan," he admitted, his voice dropping to a near whisper. The bravado was gone, stripped away, leaving only a raw, painful honesty. "Even if I… even if I somehow drag him back here, what then? He's a traitor. That's not just a name. It's… it's a whole thing. There are rules. Iruka-sensei made me study them when I made Chuunin." He rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture of pure frustration. "The fine print. Trials, imprisonment, maybe even execution depending on the circumstances… That stupid, selfish asshole… he hasn't left me any good moves. There's no way to win this."
The pain in his voice was a sharp. He finally turned, his head tilted back as he looked up at her, at the towering, serene figure she had become. The setting sun caught in her hair, creating a halo of dark indigo, and her eyes seemed to glow with their own soft, silver-lilac light.
A small, weary, but genuine smile touched his lips. "But… I'll figure something out," he said, his voice regaining a sliver of its usual, defiant fire. "I always do."
Those words. That was it.
She looked past the bravado, the loud declarations, and the goofy grin, and saw what truly defined him: this quiet, unshakeable core. The part that had been battered, betrayed, and beaten down, yet still looked at an impossible situation and said, with absolute certainty, I will figure something out. It was the pure essence of Naruto Uzumaki, a force of will so profound it felt like its own law of nature.
And it was the most alluring thing Hinata had ever witnessed.
The air in her lungs felt thick, superheated. The quiet, professional calm she had maintained shattered into a thousand pieces, replaced by a deep, thrumming hum that started in the base of her spine and spread through her entire being. The silver markings beneath her skin, usually a soft, faint network, began to pulse with a soft, insistent purplish-white light, a visible sign of the storm brewing within her.
Yesss…
She hears Venom's purring voice. A deep, resonant, and utterly contented sound of a predator watching its chosen mate display the exact qualities it found most desirable. Strength. Resilience. An unbreakable will.
A war raged within her, a silent, lightning-fast battle between a thousand years of Hyuuga discipline and a billion years of Klyntar predatory instinct. The discipline screamed at her to maintain her distance, to be the stoic commander, the honorable friend.
The instinct simply said: Mine.
She couldn't contain it. Not this time. The desire was strong. A high-voltage current demanding release. It was no longer enough to be his shield. She had to be his… something else. And so, she decided, in a moment of terrifying, liberating clarity, to stop fighting it.
She moved.
She closed the final foot of distance between them, her movements fluid and deliberate. Naruto, still lost in his thoughts, looked up at her, and his train of thought derailed with a sudden screech. She was so close now. The top of his head barely reached her chin. He was suddenly, acutely aware of the soft, formidable wall of her chest just inches from his face, of her scent—clean soap, the lingering ozone of her lightning jutsu, and that intoxicating undercurrent of rich, dark chocolate.
"H-Hinata-chan?"
She didn't answer with words. Her right hand came up, resting gently on his shoulder, her fingers applying a soft, possessive pressure. Her left hand, cool and delicate, came up to cup his chin, tilting his face upwards so his wide, confused blue eyes were forced to meet hers. Her eyes. The soft lilac of the Hyuuga heiress deepened, becoming the luminous, silver-strafed eyes of a predator that had chosen its mate.
"Then we…" she murmured, her voice a low, hypnotic purr that vibrated through his very bones, "…will figure something out. Together."
Before his stunned mind could even process the meaning of the word 'we,' she dipped her head, and her lips claimed his.
Naruto's entire world exploded into a silent supernova of pure sensation. His mind went blank, every thought, every worry, every plan erased in a system-wide crash. The initial shock was a jolt that made his entire body go rigid. Then, the shock receded, replaced by a flood of pure, sensation. Her lips were soft, full, and impossibly warm, moving against his with a confidence that was utterly devastating. He melted. His hands, acting on some deep, primal instinct, found her hips, gripping the sturdy fabric of her pants as if they were his only anchor in a raging storm.
Her kiss was forceful and deliberate, a claiming. A branding. It was deep and wet and hungry, and then something… slick, powerful, and impossibly long slipped past his lips. It coiled around his own tongue, a gentle, exploratory caress that was both terrifying and electrifying. A girl's tongue isn't supposed to be this long… is it? was the last coherent thought his brain managed to form before it dissolved completely.
As the kiss deepened, his balance faltered, and he was pressed forward, his face sinking into the soft, warm valley between her breasts. It was heaven. A soft, suffocating paradise that smelled of vanilla and chocolate and Hinata. He felt his consciousness begin to fray at the edges, his soul threatening to leak out of his body and happily drown in this sweet, perfect abyss.
It was her own enhanced senses that saved him. She felt the frantic, panicked flutter of his heart as it struggled to keep up, the way his chakra was spiking erratically, on the verge of inducing a full-on faint. With a sharp, almost painful wrench, she pulled back.
The connection broke. Her elongated tongue, shimmering with a thin coat of his saliva and her own, retracted back into her mouth with a liquid, serpentine grace. She released her hold, freeing him from her intoxicating, smothering embrace.
Naruto stood there, swaying slightly. His blue eyes were wide, unfocused, his pupils blown into huge black discs. His face was a uniform, brilliant shade of red. A thin line of drool trickled unheeded from the corner of his slack mouth.
And then, the full, crushing, apocalyptic weight of what she had just done slammed into Hinata. Her eyes widened in sheer horror. She had kissed him. She had used her tongue. She had nearly suffocated him with her chest.
He finally managed to work his mouth, his voice a raw, breathy croak. He blinked once, twice, a flicker of dazed comprehension returning to his eyes. He looked at her, at the mortified goddess towering over him, and managed to utter a single word.
"…Whoa."
He swallowed hard, his gaze still locked on her face, a look of pure, dumbfounded awe shining in his eyes.
"…Whoa."
The walk down from the hospital roof was the longest, most agonizing journey of Hinata's life. The silence between them was a living entity, a third member of their party, thick with the ghost of her lips on his, the memory of her predatory kiss, and the sheer, overwhelming weight of her own mortification. Her mind was a high-speed disaster, replaying the moment on an endless, horrifying loop. The way his eyes had widened. The feel of his body melting against hers. The impossibly long, serpentine exploration of her tongue. The soft, smothering heaven of her own chest…
A wave of heat so intense it was almost painful washed over her, and she was certain the silver markings on her skin were glowing a bright, shameful pink.
A most successful claiming, Venom purred from the depths of her consciousness, his voice dripping with a smug, proprietary satisfaction. The primary male has been marked. His scent now carries our own. A clear signal to other potential competitors. His place within the pack hierarchy is now… solidified. He understands he is ours.
The approval was not helping. At all. It was like having a proud, ancient, and deeply perverted cat purring on your shoulder after you'd just tripped and fallen face-first into the most important person in your life.
They walked side-by-side, but a chasm of awkwardness a mile wide separated them. She kept her gaze fixed firmly on the cobblestones ahead, cataloging every crack and weed with the desperate focus of a cryptographer deciphering an enemy code.
It was Naruto, bless his simple, straightforward soul, who couldn't stand it. He shuffled his feet, cleared his throat, and finally blurted out the only solution his mind could ever offer for any social crisis.
"I'm… I'm hungry!" he said, his voice a little too loud, a little too strained. "We should—we should get ramen! My treat! To celebrate… uh… not failing completely! Yeah!"
"Yes," Hinata agreed, the word shooting from her mouth with a speed and force that surprised even her. The thought of sitting in the familiar, comforting steam of Ichiraku Ramen was a lifeline, an anchor in her sea of mortification. "Ramen sounds… good."
The meal began in much the same way the walk had ended. In silence. Teuchi placed two steaming bowls of miso pork ramen before them, giving them a long, questioning look that they both studiously ignored. The only sounds were the rhythmic clinking of chopsticks and the furious slurping of noodles as Naruto inhaled his food, clearly using it as a shield against conversation.
He polished off his first bowl in record time, slammed it on the counter, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He took a deep breath.
"So!" he began, his voice still a bit too loud. "That bone-guy… man, he was tough. But you guys were awesome! That last fire and wind thing you and Temari did… whoa! That was even cooler than the one we did!"
The topic change was a gift from the gods. Combat. She could do combat. It was safe territory. The tension in her shoulders eased, and she looked up, finally meeting his gaze.
"It was an effective combination," she said, her voice regaining some of its steady, resonant calm. "Temari-san's wind jutsu creates a perfect vortex to contain and amplify the thermal energy of my Katon. It increases the destructive radius exponentially."
Naruto's eyes lit up with genuine, nerdy interest. "Whoa, really? So it's like, a fire tornado? That's so cool! And what about Gaara? His sand just… goes everywhere! How does he even do that?"
And just like that, the awkwardness began to dissipate, replaced by the easy camaraderie of two soldiers debriefing after a battle. Hinata found herself relaxing, describing Kimimaro's terrifying Kekkei Genkai, Lee's blinding speed, Gaara's absolute defense. She talked about the fight as a commander, giving credit to her team, analyzing the flow of the battle. Naruto listened with rapt attention, interjecting with questions and his own observations, his earlier embarrassment seemingly forgotten. The oppressive tension between them melted away, leaving the warm, familiar comfort of their friendship in its place.
They ordered another round of ramen, and then a third. The conversation flowed easily now, full of shared experience and mutual respect. Finally, Naruto leaned back, patting his full stomach with a satisfied sigh. A comfortable silence settled between them, the kind that didn't need to be filled.
Then, a stray thought, a loose thread from the battle, popped into his head. His expression was one of pure, innocent curiosity.
"So," he said, pointing at her with his chopsticks. "What did you end up doing to that other one? You know, the red-headed girl who wouldn't stop swearing?"
Hinata froze.
Her chopsticks, halfway to her mouth, clattered onto the counter. Her hand remained suspended in mid-air. The easy, friendly warmth of the last half-hour evaporated in an instant, replaced by the icy, soul-crushing dread of a sinner being asked to describe their sins in painstaking detail. The memory crashed back into her mind, the moans, the twitching, the blissful, unconscious smile.
Her face, which had just returned to its normal pale shade, went from zero to supernova-red in less than a second.
Tayuya stirred, a low groan of pure, animal contentment rumbling in her chest. The sleep had been… great. A deep, dreamless abyss of warmth and comfort, the likes of which she couldn't remember ever experiencing. She stretched, her limbs feeling deliciously heavy and languid, her spine arching in a long, satisfying curve. A phantom current, a warm, liquid hum, was still thrumming deep within her, a pleasant echo of some forgotten bliss. A soft, involuntary moan escaped her lips as she sat up, the simple cotton sheets feeling impossibly soft against her skin.
"Ahhh…~"
She felt… good. No, not good. She felt magnificent. Happy. Fulfilled. A strange, serene peace settled over her, a feeling so alien it was almost comical. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, another long, groan-filled stretch working the pleasant kinks from her muscles.
Then, through the warm, blissful fog, a single, sharp thought pierced the tranquility.
The mission.
The fog evaporated. The warmth turned to ice water in her veins. The memories crashed back into her as a goddamn tsunami of humiliation. The Uchiha brat. The chase. The fucking Leaf-nin. The fight. The…
The girl.
That tall bitch. The giant, overgrown bimbo with the white eyes and the body that looked like it was carved by some perverted god of war.
Her face flushed with a sudden, hot fury. The defeat. Being outmaneuvered, out-powered, her Doki vaporized into nothing by that insane fire-tornado bullshit. Being at her mercy. And then… then…
That feeling.
Tayuya's hands clenched into fists, her knuckles white. She remembered it now. The strikes that weren't strikes. The jabs that didn't bring pain, but waves of something else. Something electric and overwhelming that had bypassed every defense, every ounce of her will, and had simply… taken her. A full-body system overload of pure, mind-shattering, soul-stealing pleasure.
"FUCK!" The word was a raw, ragged bark in the quiet room. Rage, pure and undiluted, boiled in her gut. "That fucking bitch! She… she fucking played me! Like one of my own goddamn puppets!" The humiliation was a physical thing, a crawling sensation under her skin that made her want to claw her own face off. To be defeated so utterly, so completely, and not even with an honorable blow but with… that.
But beneath the rage, something else stirred. A darker, more confusing, and infinitely more terrifying feeling. A traitorous echo of the bliss. Her body still hummed with the memory of it, a low, insistent thrum that made her clench her thighs together.
But… it felt… good.
"NO!" she snarled at the empty room, at her own treacherous thoughts.
No one's ever… Gods, what was that?
"SHUT UP!"
I… I need…
"FUCKING SHUT UP!" She slammed her fist against her own thigh, the dull thud doing nothing to silence the war raging in her head. The anger and the shame fought a vicious, losing battle against a deep, primal, and utterly humiliating craving.
To distract herself, to escape the civil war in her own mind, she finally forced herself to look around, to check her surroundings. The room was simple. A bed. A small table and chair. A nightstand. To her surprise, a small, attached alcove held a simple toilet and a showerhead. Her usual Sound-nin gear was gone, replaced by plain, gray cotton pants and a loose-fitting shirt. It was clean. It was functional.
And it was a cage.
The door was a solid slab of reinforced steel, with a small, barred window set at eye level. And then she looked up. Her blood ran cold. The ceiling, the walls, every single surface was covered in a breathtakingly complex, interwoven spiderweb of black ink. Sealing formulas. Suppression seals, chakra-dampening seals, seals she didn't even recognize. It was a prison designed by a master.
The full weight of her situation crashed down on her. The rage, the confusion, even the lingering pleasure, it was all swallowed by a wave of pure, abject mortification. She was a prisoner. A defeated asset of the Sound Four, locked away in a Konoha holding cell, her fate now in the hands of her enemies.
A tremor of real fear, cold and sharp, went through her. She stumbled back to the bed and collapsed onto it, curling into a tight ball. Lord Orochimaru… she thought, the name a desperate prayer. He'll come for me. He has to. He wouldn't just leave me here. He had to. He wouldn't leave one of his most loyal servants to rot in a cage. He would come.
The hope was a thin, fragile shield against the encroaching despair. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hold onto it. But the only thing that felt real, the only thing that kept the sheer, screaming panic at bay, was the faint, phantom echo of pleasure still pulsing deep within her body. A gift from the bitch who had taken everything else.