The second meal was a quieter affair.
Tsunami had prepared another feast of seafood, though this time she'd learned her lesson and made three times as much. The dining table creaked under platters of grilled fish, steamed clams, and fried squid that actually had a chance of lasting more than thirty seconds.
As Naruto methodically worked his way through what appeared to be an entire tuna, Tazuna finally explained what had happened to Inari. His voice was heavy, weighed down by old grief and newer helplessness.
Kaiza had been a fisherman, Tazuna said. A good man who'd become something of a local hero after he'd saved Inari from drowning. He'd married Tsunami, become a father to the boy, and given Inari something precious: the belief that courage could change things, that one person standing up could make a difference.
Then Gato had come to the Land of Waves.
When Kaiza had tried to rally the townspeople against Gato's extortion, the crime boss had made an example of him. They'd tied Kaiza's arms behind his back and beaten him in the town square for days. Made everyone watch. Made Inari watch. And when it was finally over, they'd left his body hanging from a post as a warning.
"After that," Tazuna said quietly, "the boy just... broke. Stopped believing in heroes. Stopped believing in anything."
The story settled over Team Seven like a cold fog.
Sasuke set down his chopsticks, his expression unreadable. He understood, perhaps better than anyone at this table, what it meant to watch someone you loved die. What it did to you.
Sakura's eyes glistened, but she blinked the tears away quickly. She wanted to say something comforting, but the words stuck in her throat.
Kakashi's visible eye was distant, remembering his own losses, his own breaking points.
Naruto kept eating, but his jaw was set in a stubborn line.
From Team Seven's perspective, the tragedy was real, but Inari's understanding of it was... limited. The Land of Waves was tiny, with almost no ninja presence. In Inari's eyes, his stepfather had been a hero standing against an overwhelming force.
But to Team Seven, Kaiza had been an ordinary civilian facing ordinary thugs. Gato's "strength" came purely from numbers and the willingness to use violence.
Numbers meant nothing to ninja. A single Shadow Clone Jutsu could create an army. What seemed insurmountable to Inari was barely an inconvenience to them.
Still, Naruto understood the boy's pain. He'd spent years being called demon brat, fox brat, monster. He'd felt powerless too, once. Before the System. Before he'd learned that strength was something you built with your own two hands.
But understanding didn't mean coddling.
Words wouldn't help Inari. Sympathy wouldn't fix him. The boy needed to see proof that his worldview was wrong, that the "unbeatable" forces in his life could be shattered as easily as dropping a teacup.
A fist was worth a thousand words.
The System had taught Naruto that lesson early and often. Actions over speeches. Results over promises. Show them, don't tell them.
So Naruto would wait. He'd train. And when the time came, he'd demonstrate the truth in the most direct way possible: by punching through whatever "strong man" Inari feared, reducing Gato's empire to rubble with his bare hands.
Then the boy would understand.
After dinner, Team Seven retreated to the woods behind Tazuna's house to train. Kakashi, with his bandaged hands and inability to properly demonstrate techniques, found himself with unexpected free time.
He made his way upstairs and knocked gently on Inari's door.
"Go away," came the muffled response.
"It's Kakashi. I thought maybe we could talk."
"I don't want to talk."
Kakashi settled himself against the wall beside the door, his back to the wood. "That's fine. I can talk enough for both of us." He paused, organizing his thoughts. "You know, Naruto's kind of a problem child too."
Silence from the room.
"He grew up alone. No parents, no family. The village... well, they weren't kind to him. Still aren't, really." Kakashi's eye drifted to the window, watching the moon rise over the water. "But he never gave up. Never stopped trying. And now look at him."
More silence, but Kakashi thought he heard movement. The boy was listening, at least.
"I'm not saying it's easy. I'm not saying you should just get over it." Kakashi's voice softened. "Losing someone you love... that pain doesn't go away. But you get to choose what you do with it. You can let it break you, or you can let it make you stronger."
The door didn't open. Inari didn't respond.
But Kakashi hadn't really expected him to.
Two weeks passed in a blur of training and routine.
Naruto threw himself into his practice with renewed focus, though not in the same ways as Sasuke and Sakura. While they worked on tree-walking and chakra control, Naruto maintained his Iron Body positions in a clearing farther into the woods, his body flowing through the familiar forms with increased precision.
The farm back home felt very far away. He missed the cattle, missed the familiar routine of Nine-Tails' cooking, missed knowing exactly where his next three cows were coming from.
But this was good too. Training in new places, facing new challenges, meeting new people to potentially befriend (after the necessary beating).
Each night they returned to Tazuna's house, where Tsunami would have dinner waiting and Inari would be conspicuously absent. The boy had stopped even coming down for meals, taking his food in his room.
Naruto said nothing about it. When the time came, action would speak for itself.
The morning of the fifteenth day dawned gray and humid, with heavy clouds promising rain.
"Kakashi-san," Tazuna said over breakfast, adjusting his hard hat, "let's go. This old man will take you to see the bridge. We're getting close to completion now."
Naruto had a piece of grilled fish halfway to his mouth. "But I haven't finished breakfast yet."
Kakashi's eye crinkled apologetically. "Naruto, you can finish eating here. I'll take Sasuke and Sakura ahead to scout the bridge situation. You can catch up when you're done."
"Works for me." Naruto picked up another fish. "You walk slow anyway. I'll overtake you in like, two seconds."
Tazuna led Kakashi, Sasuke, and Sakura out into the gray morning. Their footsteps faded down the dirt path.
Inari emerged from his room long enough to grab a rice ball, then disappeared back upstairs without a word.
Tsunami watched him go with sad eyes. She turned to Naruto, wringing her hands. "I'm sorry, Naruto. Inari... he's not usually so rude. He used to be such a bright child."
"It's okay, Tsunami-san." Naruto worked his way through what had to be his twentieth fish. "I was really introverted when I was younger too."
It wasn't exactly true—Naruto had never been introverted, just unwanted—but the lie made Tsunami smile, so it was worth it.
Many children were like that, really. When guests came over, they'd hide in their rooms, too shy or too stubborn to come out. It was impolite, but understandable. Naruto didn't hold it against the boy.
Half an hour later, Naruto pushed back from the table with a satisfied sigh. "Phew. I'm full. Thank you for the meal, Tsunami-san."
Tsunami practically wilted with relief. She'd been up since before dawn preparing breakfast, terrified that there wouldn't be enough food, that she'd fail as a host. The amount Naruto ate was genuinely alarming—she'd cooked enough for twenty people and he'd demolished it all—but at least he seemed satisfied.
"I'm glad you enjoyed it, Naruto." She began gathering the empty plates, marveling at how clean they were. Not even a grain of rice remained.
Naruto stood and stretched, his joints popping pleasantly. "Well, I'm off to find Kakashi-sensei and the others. Thanks again for breakfast!"
"Take care, Naruto."
He stepped outside into the humid morning, rolling his shoulders and breathing deep. The air tasted like salt and approaching rain.
Then he took off toward the bridge, his body moving through the trees with practiced ease.
He'd only been running for a few minutes when something caught his eye.
A flash of steel, down below in the underbrush. Naruto stopped on a thick branch, crouching low to observe.
Two men stood in a small clearing. One was tall with a leather patch over his left eye, a katana still drawn in his hand. The other wore a purple hat and had the confident stance of someone who knew how to use the sword at his waist.
Between them lay a wild boar, freshly killed, its blood still steaming in the cool morning air.
"That's it?" The one-eyed samurai wiped his blade clean with obvious disappointment. "That's all the fight it had in it? I didn't even get to use a proper technique. One cut and it was over."
"Quit complaining." Purple Hat crossed his arms. "We're not here to play with wildlife. Don't forget our actual mission—we're supposed to capture Tazuna's family. That woman and the kid. We hold them hostage, force the old man to stop the bridge project."
"Yeah, yeah, I know." One-Eye sheathed his katana with a sharp click. "Let's get moving then. The house should be practically empty right now. Easy job."
They set off through the woods, heading directly toward Tazuna's home.
Naruto looked at the dead boar lying in the grass. It was a good-sized animal, maybe eighty pounds of meat. His mouth watered.
"What a waste," he muttered. "Killing it and just leaving it here. I should take it. Tsunami-san could make something really good with this."
He dropped silently from the branch, scooped up the boar like it weighed nothing, and followed the two samurai.
They never noticed him. His footsteps made no sound, and his Ki presence was so perfectly controlled that he might as well have been a ghost.
The two samurai reached Tazuna's house and paused outside the door, listening.
"Inari!" Tsunami's voice drifted out from the kitchen. "Inari, come help your mother with the dishes!"
No response. Just silence from the upstairs bedroom.
The samurai exchanged a glance. Purple Hat nodded.
One-Eye kicked the door clean off its hinges.
They burst inside in a rush of violence and steel.
Tsunami dropped a plate. It shattered on the floor as she backed away, her eyes wide with terror. "Who—what do you—"
"Shut up." One-Eye grabbed her arm and yanked her toward him. Purple Hat had already produced rope from his belt, moving with practiced efficiency to bind her wrists behind her back.
"Inari!" Tsunami screamed. "Inari, run! Get out of here!"
Upstairs, a door creaked open.
Inari appeared at the top of the stairs, his small face pale with fear. He saw his mother struggling, saw the two armed men, and his entire body locked up.
He couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Couldn't do anything but stand there, rooted to the spot like a tree.
"Mom..." The word came out as barely a whisper.
One-Eye finished tying Tsunami's hands and looked up at the boy with undisguised contempt. "What a pathetic little brat."
Inari's legs gave out. He collapsed onto the top stair, tears streaming down his face. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Mom. I'm so sorry..."
"Can I kill him?" One-Eye's hand drifted to his katana. "That crying is annoying."
"You kill my son," Tsunami snarled, all her fear transforming into fierce maternal rage, "and I swear to the gods I'll bite through my own tongue right here. You'll have nothing to bargain with."
Naruto, watching from the doorway with the boar still slung over his shoulder, nodded approvingly. That was motherhood right there. That was real courage—willing to trade her own life for her child's without a second's hesitation.
And what was Inari doing? Sitting on the stairs. Crying. Useless.
Disappointing.
One-Eye spat in disgust. "Fine. Let's just get out of here. This place stinks of failure."
They turned toward the broken door, dragging Tsunami between them.
"Hey, Inari."
The voice was quiet. Calm. Almost gentle.
But it froze both samurai in their tracks.
Inari's head snapped up, his tear-stained face searching for the source.
"You really let me down, you know?" The voice continued, still unseen. "What else can you do besides cry? They're kidnapping your mother right in front of you, and you just... sit there."
The air itself seemed to hold its breath.
"Also," and now there was an edge to the words, sharp as broken glass, "is this what you call a strong man?"
One-Eye spun around, his hand on his katana. "Who's there? Show yourself, you coward!"
Reality rippled.
One moment the doorway was empty. The next, Naruto stood there, bathed in morning light that turned his blonde hair into something radiant, almost otherworldly. He was in his transformed state—nearly six feet tall, his body radiating barely contained power.
He held the dead boar in one hand like it weighed nothing at all.
"Hey, Tsunami-san." Naruto set the boar down gently just inside the door. "Remember to make something tasty with this for me next meal, okay?"
"Naruto!" Tsunami's voice cracked with desperation. "Run! Please, just run! These are Gato's men—you can't fight them! You're just a child!"
Naruto's smile was bright and absolutely confident. "Don't worry, Tsunami-san. Scum like this? I can handle them with one punch each."
Inari stared from the stairs, his mouth opening as if to shout that Naruto couldn't win, that he should run, that fighting was pointless.
But the words wouldn't come.
Because Naruto had done what Inari couldn't. He'd stood up. He'd faced the threat head-on without hesitation, without fear.
While Inari could only cry and watch.
"Oh?" One-Eye's initial shock faded into cruel amusement. "You've got quite the mouth on you, brat. But I have to say..." He licked his lips, his eye roaming over Naruto's face. "You're a pretty one, aren't you? That smooth skin, that handsome face. It's almost a shame I have to cut you up."
"You take him," Purple Hat said, already bored. "Make it quick."
"Heh." One-Eye drew his katana with a metallic whisper. "Kid, I'm actually going to enjoy this. That pretty face of yours, that confidence—I'm going to carve it all away, piece by piece. Nothing personal. You just had the bad luck to—"
"You talk too much."
Naruto moved.
One instant he was by the door. The next he was directly in front of One-Eye, so close they could have been dancing partners.
The samurai's eye widened in shock. He tried to bring his katana up, tried to swing it forward in a desperate slash, but his wrist had barely started to move when—
Naruto's fist connected with his chest.
The sound was like a thunderclap in an enclosed space, a massive BOOM that rattled the windows and shook dust from the ceiling beams.
One-Eye didn't fly backward. He didn't crumple. He didn't even have time to scream.
He simply ceased to exist as anything recognizable as human.
The force of Naruto's punch didn't just break bones. It pulverized them. It vaporized tissue and organs and turned blood into mist. The samurai's body exploded outward in a perfect sphere of red, expanding like a grotesque firework before gravity began to pull the droplets down.
For one eternal second, the air was filled with crimson rain.
Purple Hat stood frozen, his mind struggling to process what his eyes had just witnessed.
Inari made a small, broken sound.
Tsunami couldn't even scream.
Before the blood had finished falling, before anyone could move or speak or react, Naruto had already turned to Purple Hat.
His hand rose almost lazily and settled on top of the man's head.
Purple Hat felt it—the weight of that palm, the terrible certainty of what was about to happen. His mouth opened, maybe to beg, maybe to flee, but the thoughts were still forming when—
Naruto released a single pulse of vibration force.
The effect was instantaneous and surgical. Purple Hat's skull simply came apart from the inside, the bone fragmenting, the brain tissue disrupted at the cellular level. His head collapsed inward like a rotten melon, and then it too became mist, a fine red spray that hung in the air for one perfect moment before beginning its descent.
His body stood for three full seconds before toppling backward, neck ending in nothing but ragged tissue and shattered vertebrae.
Naruto took a slow breath, directing the airflow to push the falling blood mist away from Tsunami. The crimson droplets curved around her in an impossible arc, painting the walls and floor but leaving her miraculously clean.
He looked at the settling red rain, at the artistic pattern it had made across Tazuna's walls and furniture.
A small, satisfied smile crossed his face.
"See?" he said softly. "Art is explosion, but people can bloom like fireworks too."
The silence that followed was absolute.
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