The tournament continued with mechanical precision, match after match playing out before the assembled thousands.
Naruto observed from the fighter's box with his usual detachment, cataloging techniques and tactical patterns for future reference. The other competitors gave him a wide berth now—word of his match against Kiba had spread, and no one wanted to draw the attention of the boy who had nearly choked his opponent to death without any apparent emotion.
Rock Lee's match against Gaara was next.
Naruto watched with clinical interest as Lee removed his weights—the same weights he had mentioned during their brief confrontation before the exams. The moment they hit the ground, creating craters in the arena floor, Lee's speed became something extraordinary.
Even Naruto's analytical mind had difficulty tracking the green blur.
Lee opened the Gates—one, two, three, four, five—pushing his body beyond human limits in a desperate assault against Gaara's absolute defense. The sand couldn't keep up. For the first time, Gaara was being hit.
The arena erupted with excitement.
But Naruto saw what others missed.
The sand armor beneath Gaara's skin. The calculating gleam in those dark-ringed eyes. The way the redhead was allowing hits that seemed devastating but were actually being absorbed by hidden defenses.
Lee was being baited.
The trap sprung when Lee's body finally gave out, the accumulated damage from the Gates leaving him vulnerable. Gaara's sand closed around Lee's left arm and leg, and the sickening crunch of crushing bone echoed through the suddenly silent arena.
Lee fell, his limbs shattered, his body broken.
Gaara's sand rose for the killing blow—
Guy appeared in a blur of green, shielding his student with his own body.
"The match is over," he declared, his voice carrying none of its usual enthusiasm. "Gaara wins."
The Sand jinchuuriki stared at Guy with those empty eyes—eyes that Naruto recognized, that mirrored his own hollow gaze.
"He's still alive," Gaara said, as if this was a problem to be corrected.
"And he will stay that way."
Something shifted in Gaara's expression—frustration, perhaps, or confusion at the concept of protecting someone weaker. Then his sand receded, and he turned away.
"Mother is disappointed," he muttered, walking back to the fighter's box. "But there will be other blood."
Lee was carried away on a stretcher, his promising career potentially ended by injuries that even the best medical ninja might not fully heal.
Naruto noted the outcome without feeling anything about it.
Lee had been outmaneuvered. Had pushed his body beyond sustainable limits against an opponent he couldn't actually defeat. The result was predictable.
The tournament continued.
Hinata Hyuuga versus Neji Hyuuga.
The match that had been whispered about since the brackets were announced. Main house versus branch house. Gentle heir versus bitter prodigy. Family politics played out in combat.
Naruto's attention sharpened slightly as Hinata descended to the arena.
She had changed since the phenomenon claimed her. The shy, stuttering girl who could barely meet his eyes had transformed into something more confident, more capable. Her devotion to him had given her a focus that her previous insecurities had denied her.
But she was still Hinata.
Still gentle at her core.
Still incapable of true ruthlessness.
Neji, by contrast, radiated cold fury from the moment he stepped into the arena. His pale eyes fixed on his cousin with undisguised contempt.
"You should forfeit," he said, his voice carrying across the silent space. "Fate has already determined the outcome of this match. A failure like you cannot defeat a genius like me."
Hinata's stance didn't waver. "I won't forfeit, Neji-nii-san. I have... I have someone I want to prove myself to."
Her eyes flicked briefly toward the fighter's box—toward Naruto.
Neji's expression darkened further.
"The demon container. I've heard the rumors about you and the other girls. Throwing yourselves at a monster, abandoning your dignity for someone who doesn't even acknowledge your existence." His voice dripped with disgust. "You shame the Hyuuga name."
"Naruto-kun is not a monster. And I'm not ashamed of anything."
"Then you're a fool as well as a failure."
The match began.
Neji was, objectively speaking, the superior fighter. His Gentle Fist was more refined, his Byakugan more practiced, his tactical mind sharper. He had spent years honing his skills with a bitter determination that exceeded Hinata's gentler training.
But Hinata had something Neji lacked.
Purpose.
She fought with a desperation that transcended mere competition. Every strike was thrown for Naruto—to prove herself worthy of him, to demonstrate that her devotion had meaning, to show him that she could be strong.
It wasn't enough.
Neji systematically dismantled her defense, striking chakra points with surgical precision, cutting off her ability to mold chakra effectively. Each hit drove her back, weakened her further, brought her closer to defeat.
"This is the difference between us," Neji said, landing another devastating blow. "You were born weak. I was born strong. Fate cannot be changed."
Hinata staggered but didn't fall.
"You're wrong," she gasped. "Fate isn't... Naruto-kun proved that. He was born with nothing. Hated by everyone. And he became stronger than anyone."
"He became a monster."
"He became what he had to be. To survive. To exist." Hinata's Byakugan blazed with desperate intensity. "And I'll become what I have to be too. For him."
She launched one final attack—a combination she had developed specifically for this moment, drawing on reserves she shouldn't have had.
Neji intercepted it effortlessly.
His palm struck her chest directly over her heart—a blow designed to kill.
Hinata collapsed, blood spraying from her mouth, her body convulsing from the impact.
The proctor moved to intervene—
Neji didn't stop.
"This is what happens to failures who don't know their place," he said coldly, raising his palm for another strike. "This is the fate of those who—"
He never finished the sentence.
Naruto moved.
Not with the calculated precision he usually displayed. Not with the measured efficiency of someone optimizing for combat outcomes.
He simply moved.
One instant he was in the fighter's box, dozens of meters away.
The next, his hand was closed around Neji's wrist, stopping the descending palm inches from Hinata's prone form.
The arena went silent.
Naruto's grip tightened—and tightened—and tightened further. Bone creaked beneath his fingers. Neji's face contorted with sudden pain.
"The match is over," Naruto said.
But his voice was different.
Not flat. Not empty. Not the hollow monotone that everyone had grown accustomed to.
There was something in it.
Something hot.
Something dangerous.
And his eyes—
His eyes were burning.
Not with chakra. Not with any technique. But with something that hadn't been there before. Something that had been absent for so long that its sudden presence was almost more terrifying than his usual emptiness.
Anger.
Pure, undiluted anger.
The proctor—Genma—stood frozen, senbon dropping from his suddenly slack jaw. The jonin who had been moving to intervene stopped mid-step, their instincts screaming that something fundamental had changed.
"You were going to kill her," Naruto said, his voice carrying that unfamiliar heat. "The match was decided. She was down. And you were going to kill her anyway."
Neji's face had gone pale—not just from pain, but from the dawning recognition that he had triggered something in the monster everyone feared.
"She's a failure," he managed through gritted teeth. "She deserved—"
Naruto's grip tightened further.
Bone cracked.
Neji screamed.
"She is mine."
The words rang through the arena like a thunderclap.
Everyone heard them. Everyone felt their weight. Everyone understood, on some primal level, what they meant.
Uzumaki Naruto—the empty vessel, the boy without feelings, the weapon that cared about nothing—had just claimed someone.
Had just felt something.
For the first time in years.
"She is mine," Naruto repeated, his voice dropping to something that was almost a growl. "And no one touches what is mine."
He released Neji's shattered wrist, letting the Hyuuga prodigy stagger backward, cradling his ruined arm.
Then he turned to Hinata.
She lay motionless on the arena floor, blood staining her lips, her breathing shallow and irregular. The strike Neji had landed should have killed her—would have killed most people.
Naruto knelt beside her.
His hand moved to her face, touching her cheek with a gentleness that seemed impossible from someone who had just shattered another person's bones without hesitation.
"Hinata."
Her eyes fluttered. Opened. Focused on his face with difficulty.
"N-Naruto-kun..."
"You're injured. Medical attention is required."
"Did I... did I make you proud?"
The question hung in the air.
Naruto's expression shifted—subtly, almost imperceptibly, but undeniably. The anger was still there, burning beneath the surface. But something else had joined it.
Something he didn't have a name for.
Something he hadn't felt in so long that he barely recognized it.
"Yes," he said.
Hinata's bloody lips curved into a smile.
"Then it was worth it."
Her eyes closed. Her body went limp.
Medical ninja rushed in, surrounding her, beginning emergency treatment. Naruto remained kneeling beside her for a long moment, his hand still touching her cheek.
Then he stood.
His eyes found Neji across the arena—the Hyuuga prodigy being attended to by his own medics, his shattered wrist already immobilized.
"We will fight in the finals," Naruto said, his voice carrying that new heat. "And when we do, I will not stop at your wrist."
Neji said nothing.
There was nothing to say.
The arena remained frozen in shock as Naruto walked back toward the fighter's box.
In the stands, the other six devoted women sat in stunned silence. They had watched him every day for months. Had studied his every expression, analyzed his every word, cataloged his every behavior.
They had never seen this.
Never seen him feel anything.
"He was angry," Sakura whispered. "Actually angry."
"For Hinata," Satsuki added, something complex moving behind her Sharingan. "He got angry because someone hurt Hinata."
"He called her 'his,'" Ino breathed. "He said she was his."
"He said she was his," Temari repeated, her voice carrying wonder. "He actually... claimed her."
Tenten's eyes were bright with tears. "He can feel. He can still feel."
"Not feel," Anko corrected quietly, her maternal instincts warring with the other thing inside her. "Or not fully. But something. Something got through."
They all looked at each other—seven women united by impossible devotion, now united by something else.
Hope.
If Hinata's near-death could make him feel anger...
If he could claim someone as his...
Then maybe, just maybe, the void inside him wasn't absolute.
Maybe something could still grow there.
Maybe they could still reach him.
In the Kage box, Hiruzen Sarutobi sat motionless, his aged eyes fixed on the boy walking back to the fighter's box.
Anger.
Naruto had felt anger.
For the first time since that terrible night when the village had finally broken him, something had penetrated the void.
Is this hope? the old man wondered. Or is this something worse?
Because anger was an emotion, yes. But it was also dangerous. Unpredictable. Destructive when wielded by someone with Naruto's power.
If he could feel anger, he could feel other things too. Eventually.
But what would those things be?
Love? Joy? Peace?
Or hatred? Rage? Vengeance against those who had broken him?
The village had created a weapon without emotions.
Now that weapon was beginning to feel.
And Hiruzen had no idea what that meant for anyone.
The tournament was suspended briefly while the arena was cleared of blood and the medical teams finished their work.
Naruto stood in the fighter's box, alone now—the other competitors had given him even more space than before.
His hands were trembling.
Not from exhaustion. Not from chakra depletion. Not from any physical cause.
He was still angry.
The emotion burned inside him like a fire that had ignited after years of cold darkness. It was uncomfortable, unfamiliar, almost painful in its intensity.
But it was also...
Real.
He felt real.
For the first time in longer than he could remember, he felt like something more than an empty vessel going through the motions of existence.
He didn't understand it. Didn't know why Hinata's near-death had triggered something when countless other traumas had not. Didn't know what this meant for his carefully constructed understanding of himself.
But he knew one thing with absolute certainty.
Neji Hyuuga was going to suffer.
And for the first time in years, Naruto was looking forward to something.