Chapter 32 – The Prophecy Echoes
The day had been long but quiet. After training with Kakashi and laughing (or enduring) Obito's antics, Akira finally found himself back home, ready for some rest.
But peace didn't last long. Not this time.
A heavy knock rattled the door.
"Akira."
It was Fugaku's voice, but sharper than usual. Almost… restrained.
When Akira slid the door open, he found not only Fugaku standing there, but Jiraiya as well. The Sannin's expression was far different from his usual carefree grin—it was carved with tension, his eyes carrying a weight Akira had rarely seen.
"We need to talk," Jiraiya said, voice low.
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They gathered inside, Fugaku sitting with his arms crossed, while Jiraiya paced the tatami floor like a restless tiger.
"I've just returned from Mount Myōboku," Jiraiya began, his tone grave. "The Great Toad Sage has stirred again. And this time… his words were clear."
Akira's chest tightened. He knew the prophecy stories—Naruto fan knowledge burned into his mind—but now, being here, living it, the air around him felt different. Heavy.
"What did he say?" Fugaku asked calmly, though his knuckles whitened as he gripped his knee.
Jiraiya stopped pacing. His gaze shifted to Akira, piercing and unyielding.
> "A boy with eyes of the ocean will stand at the crossroads of love and despair.
His bonds will either save this world… or shatter it beyond repair."
The words dropped into the room like thunder.
Akira's heart skipped. Eyes of the ocean…? He remembered the moment with Fugaku and Jiraiya, when his Sharingan had awakened—blue, glowing, unlike any before. The Toad Sage's words lined up too well.
Fugaku's eyes flicked toward Akira. Concern, pride, and fear warred in his expression. "So the prophecy has marked him."
Jiraiya crouched down in front of Akira, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Listen, kid. Prophecies aren't chains. They don't decide for you. But they warn you. The way you live, the choices you make… those will decide if this world finds peace or burns."
Akira met his eyes. For once, there was no teasing, no sly grin. Just honesty.
Inside, his thoughts raced. So this is it. This is where it begins. Not Naruto. Not anyone else. Me.
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The silence that followed was broken only by Fugaku's voice, deep and steady.
"Then he must be guided carefully. The clans will pull at him—Uchiha, Hyūga, and now… this prophecy. But he's more than their politics."
Jiraiya smirked faintly, though it didn't reach his eyes. "That's why I'm here. I'll train him, watch him, and make sure he doesn't stumble down the wrong path."
Akira looked down at his hands, his chest tightening. My father… Otsutsuki blood. My mother… Uchiha blood. And me? He thought of the father he never knew—an enigma, a name that carried weight but no face to cling to. "If Dad was really Otsutsuki… then maybe this was always waiting for me."
Fugaku's expression softened—just for a moment. Almost fatherly. "Blood does not decide the man, Akira. Your father gave you a name, but it is you who must decide what to do with it."
The boy's throat tightened. He nodded, but the ache in his chest only grew heavier.
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That night, lying awake, Akira stared at the ceiling.
The prophecy… eyes of the ocean. Bonds that can save or destroy. If I don't choose carefully…
He remembered his own words to Sakumo not long ago:
> "There is a cost for every story in your life.
A cost for making it better, a cost for failing to.
And you are the one who must pay."
Now, the world was asking him: Which story will you write? And what kind of story had his father left behind for him to continue… or rewrite?
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🌙 End of Chapter 32 (Revised)
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