Chapter 66: The Red Thread!
"So," Tatsuma suddenly said after Kōzaru had assessed his stats, his eyes lighting up with excitement that seemed to burst from him like contained energy, "I have some pretty incredible news. Guess who I got to meet whilst you were unconscious?"
"Someone important, judging by that grin," Aotaka observed.
"Kushina Uzumaki," Tatsuma said, his voice carrying a mixture of awe and disbelief. "The Red Hot-Blooded Habanero herself. And she's... she's family."
Kōzaru's eyes widened. "Wait what? You met her? Family? What do you mean?" Both Aotaka and Kōzaru blurted out, not understanding.
Tatsuma's expression grew serious as he began to recount his meeting with the legendary kunoichi, telling both of them all the details.
Flashback
The first thing Tatsuma noticed when he woke up was the brilliant red hair. It caught the afternoon sunlight streaming through the hospital window, creating an almost ethereal glow around the young woman sitting beside his bed.
"Easy there," came a warm voice as he tried to sit up too quickly. "You've been through quite an ordeal."
Tatsuma's vision focused slowly, taking in violet eyes that seemed to hold both incredible strength and gentle compassion. The woman was perhaps seventeen, maybe eighteen with the bearing of someone accustomed to command but the gentleness of someone who understood suffering.
"You're..." he began, recognition dawning slowly. "You're Kushina Uzumaki."
"That's right," she said with a smile that transformed her entire face. "And you're Tatsuma. Another Uzumaki, I believe."
The weight of that statement hit him like a physical blow. "Another Uzumaki? You mean I'm really..."
"Oh, you're definitely one of us," Kushina said, her voice carrying absolute certainty. "The red hair, the massive chakra reserves, the way you survived injuries that should have killed you—there's no question about your heritage there kiddo."
Tatsuma stared at her, his mind racing. "He already knew he was an Uzumaki, thanks to having picked the clan before he was reborn into this world.
"Most Uzumaki records were destroyed when our homeland was attacked," Kushina explained gently, her violet eyes darkening with old pain. "Our clan was feared for our sealing techniques and our vitality. When the great nations decided we were too dangerous to exist..."
She trailed off, but Tatsuma could see the weight of genocide in her expression.
"I thought I was the only survivor," she continued after a moment. "The only Uzumaki left in the world. To find you here, to know that our bloodline continues... it's like a miracle."
Tatsuma listened quietly, still feeling a little dazed having only just woken up.
Kushina's smile returned, warm and fierce. "It means you carry the legacy of one of the greatest clans in shinobi history. We were masters of fūinjutsu—sealing techniques that could bind demons, create barriers, even store massive amounts of chakra. Our ancestors helped found Konoha itself."
"And more practically," she added with a grin, "it means you have enough chakra to power techniques that would exhaust most jōnin. Those shadow clones you've been making? For an Uzumaki, that's just getting started."
Tatsuma felt a surge of pride and belonging that he had never experienced before. To know that he carried the blood of legends... It felt like his choice at the start mattered more than anything now.
"I want to teach you," Kushina said suddenly, her voice carrying intense conviction. "Sealing techniques, chakra control exercises, the history of our clan—everything I know about what it means to be an Uzumaki. If you'll let me."
"Really?" Tatsuma's voice cracked with emotion. "You'd do that?"
"You're family," she said simply. "The last of our kind. Of course I'll teach you."
End Flashback
When Tatsuma finished recounting his meeting with Kushina, both Kōzaru and Aotaka were staring at him with wide eyes.
"You really met Naruto's mother," Aotaka said, his voice filled with awe. "The future Fourth Hokage's wife. The woman who's going to help save the village from the Nine-Tails."
"She's going to teach you sealing techniques," Kōzaru added, his mind already processing the implications. "Uzumaki fūinjutsu is supposed to be incredibly powerful."
"That's amazing... I'm almost jealous." Aotaka said as he thought about the possibilities Tatsuma could be given training with Kushina.
"The Red Hot-Blooded Habanero," Kōzaru added with genuine admiration. "Kushina Uzumaki. One of the most powerful kunoichi in the village's history." He said, knowing even Minato had learned powerful sealing jutsu from her, wondering if maybe he would be able to gain access to some her their techniques in the future.
Tatsuma nodded slowly, understanding passing between them. All three of them had spent countless hours in their previous lives discussing the Naruto universe, analysing character abilities, debating power levels. Kushina's legendary status wasn't something they'd learned in this life.
"You're right about the opportunity though," Tatsuma said quietly. "Getting to train under someone like that... it's the kind of chance most people only dream about."
"Plus she's absolutely terrifying in combat," Kōzaru continued. "Those chakra chains of hers, her sealing techniques, not to mention her connection to the Nine-Tails... A full Nine-Tails at that too, not just half."
They all fell silent for a moment, each processing the implications. In their previous lives, they had only known Kushina as a tragic figure—Naruto's mother who died protecting the village. But here, now, she was alive, powerful, and apparently willing to train one of them.
"It's strange," Aotaka said quietly, "knowing so much about people who have no idea who we really are."
"Sometimes I wonder if this is all some elaborate dream," Tatsuma admitted. "Meeting legendary shinobi, having access to abilities we only imagined... it feels too good to be true."
"The pain from that cliff road was real enough," Kōzaru said grimly. "Trust me, I've never felt anything like that before—in either life."
Before they could delve deeper into their shared existential concerns, another soft knock interrupted them.
"May I come in?"
The voice was immediately recognisable, and all three boys straightened slightly as Minato Namikaze entered the room. Their sensei looked older than they remembered—not physically, but in the way his eyes carried the weight of recent experiences. His usual easy smile was present, but it was tinged with relief so profound it was almost painful to witness.
"Sensei," Kōzaru said, his voice carrying a mixture of happiness and guilt. "You're back."
The sight of him hit all three boys differently than it might have struck normal students. This wasn't just their teacher—this was the future Fourth Hokage, the Yellow Flash, one of the most legendary shinobi in history. And yet, looking at him now, they could see the man beneath the legend, someone who genuinely cared about his students, who had been terrified of allowing them to die under his watch.
Minato's blue eyes swept over his three students, taking in their improved conditions, the way they were sitting together, the obvious signs of recovery. For a moment, his composed jōnin mask slipped completely, revealing the depth of emotion he had been carrying.
"When I left you on that cliff road," he said quietly, his voice thick with feeling, "I wasn't certain I would see any of you again. The medical reports... they were not encouraging."
"We're harder to kill than we look," Tatsuma said with forced lightness, though his own voice carried traces of the trauma they had all experienced. In his previous life, he had always wondered what it would feel like to be in a life-or-death situation. Now he knew, and it was nothing like the anime had portrayed.
"Apparently so," Minato replied, settling into free chair. "The hospital staff called your recoveries miraculous. Though I suspect your bloodlines had more to do with it than divine intervention."
All three boys shared a brief glance. If only he knew about their reincarnation, their system, their enhanced abilities...
"Did you complete the mission?" Aotaka asked, his mind focusing on their professional responsibilities despite everything they had endured.
Minato's expression softened slightly. "The mission was completed successfully. The three survivors you protected reached safety, and the medical supplies they carried have already saved lives at the border outposts."
"Thanks to your sacrifice," he continued, his gaze meeting each of theirs in turn. "Your willingness to stand against impossible odds, to protect innocent people at the cost of your own lives—that's what made the mission possible."
"We all did it together," Kōzaru protested, though part of him was still processing the surreal nature of receiving praise from someone he had once considered a fictional character.
"But I did arrive," Minato said firmly. "Because you bought the time necessary. Because you stood your ground when retreat would have been understandable. Because you demonstrated what it truly means to be shinobi of the Hidden Leaf."
He paused, studying their faces with the analytical gaze of someone assessing more than just physical recovery.
"How do you feel?" he asked quietly. "Not physically—emotionally. Mentally. You've experienced something that many ninja never face, even after years of service."
The three teammates exchanged glances, each processing the question in their own way. How could they explain that this was their second life, that they had died once before in a completely different world? How could they describe the strange disconnect between their adult memories and their child bodies?
"Different," Kōzaru said honestly. "Like the world is... more real now. More dangerous."
"Before, it felt almost like a game," Tatsuma added quietly, the irony of his words not lost on him—after all, their abilities literally were game-like. "Training, missions, even combat—there was always this sense that we were just... playing. Pretending to be real ninja."
"Now we know," Aotaka finished. "We know what it means when they say shinobi risk their lives for the mission. We know what 'death in service to the village' actually feels like."
They had died once before, in their previous world, but that had been sudden, unexpected. This was different—this was choosing to face death, choosing to fight even when victory seemed impossible.
Minato nodded slowly, recognising the fundamental shift in perspective that marked the transition from academy student to Genin in training, to shinobi who had experienced real combat.
"That understanding," he said carefully, "is both a burden and a strength. It will make you more cautious, but also more determined. More aware of the stakes, but also more committed to protecting what matters."
"We need to get stronger," Kōzaru said suddenly, his voice carrying absolute conviction. "All of us. What happened on that cliff road... we were completely outmatched. If you hadn't arrived..."
In his previous life, he had always wondered how strong he would need to be to make a difference in this world. Now he was beginning to understand the true scale of the challenge.
"Strength isn't just about individual power," Minato replied gently. "What saved you wasn't superior techniques or higher chakra reserves. It was teamwork, determination, and the willingness to sacrifice for others. Those qualities can't be trained in the traditional sense."
"But individual power doesn't hurt," Aotaka pointed out pragmatically. "If we had been stronger, if we had better techniques, more experience..."
He was thinking about their system, their ability to level up and grow stronger. They had advantages that normal shinobi didn't, but they were still nowhere near the level they needed to be.
"Then you might have become overconfident and made different mistakes," Minato countered. "Strength without wisdom is often more dangerous than weakness with good judgment."
He leaned forward slightly, his expression growing more serious.
"What you've experienced—nearly dying, surviving against impossible odds—it's created a bond between you that goes deeper than mere teamwork. That connection, that understanding of each other's limits and capabilities, that's more valuable than any individual technique."
The three boys absorbed this, each understanding the truth in their sensei's words whilst also feeling the weight of their secret knowledge. They knew what was coming—the escalation of the Third Great Ninja War, the Nine-Tails attack, countless tragedies that they might be able to prevent if they grew strong enough. Would they be able to change things, or would they be forced to sit back and watch them unfold.
"So what happens now?" Tatsuma asked. "Do we go back to normal missions? More training?"
"Now you recover fully," Minato said firmly. "Both physically and emotionally. Take time to process what you've experienced, to understand how it's changed you. When you're ready—truly ready—we'll discuss your future as shinobi."
"How long?" Kōzaru asked, though part of him already dreaded the answer. Time was something they didn't have much of, not with the timeline they remembered looming ahead.
"As long as it takes," Minato replied. "Rushing back into combat before you're mentally prepared would be more dangerous than any enemy you might face. Besides, I have been called up for a mission with my own sensei. So I could be gone for a few days." Minato then said with a smile on his face.
The mention of Minato taking about his own sensei could only mean one person to the three of them, causing all of them to raise an eyebrow.
Minato stood to leave, but paused at the door.
"What you did out there," he said quietly, "protecting those civilians, standing together against opponents who should have killed you easily—that's the Will of Fire in its purest form. Your parents, your ancestors, everyone who came before you to build this village... they would be proud."
After their sensei left, the three teammates sat in comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts. The afternoon sun was beginning to fade, casting longer shadows across the hospital room as the reality of their situation settled over them.
"He's right, you know," Aotaka said eventually. "About the bond between us. What we went through... it's changed everything."
"It's more than that though," Tatsuma said quietly. "We're not just teammates who've been through trauma together. We're three people who died in another world and got a second chance at life. That's a bond that goes deeper than anything most people could understand."
"Sometimes I wonder if we're the only ones," Kōzaru admitted. "Are there other reincarnated people out there? Other fans who got the same chance we did?"
"Maybe," Aotaka said thoughtfully. "But for now, we have each other. Three people who understand what it's like to know the future but be powerless to change it... Yet anyway."
"We need to get stronger," Kōzaru said again, echoing his earlier statement. "Not just for ourselves, but for everyone. We know what's coming, and we might be the only ones who can prevent some of the worst tragedies."
"Together," Tatsuma added, his voice carrying the weight of absolute commitment. "Whatever happens next, we face it together. Just like we promised in that white void."
"Together," Aotaka agreed, his mind already working through the implications of their shared knowledge and abilities.
They understood now, in a way they never had before, that their reincarnation wasn't just a gift—it was a responsibility. They had been given power and knowledge that could change the course of history, but they were still just children in a world full of legendary shinobi.
"Together," Kōzaru repeated, feeling the truth of that word settle into his bones alongside the warm presence of his ninken partners.
Outside the hospital window, the village of Konoha continued its daily life, unaware that three reincarnated souls were planning to change the course of history. They were no longer just academy students playing at being warriors, and they were no longer just fans living in their favourite fictional world.
They were shinobi of the Hidden Leaf, forged by fire and bound by bonds stronger than death itself, armed with knowledge of the future and the determination to forge a better path.
And their real journey was just beginning.