Inside the Sarutobi clan estate, the night air was heavy.
Hiruzen Sarutobi stood before the crystal ball, pipe clenched between his teeth, the usual calm in his eyes replaced by a deep, restrained anger. The image within the sphere showed the Forest of Death—blurred, chaotic, saturated with killing intent.
"Mizuki…" Hiruzen muttered.
The old Hokage exhaled slowly, smoke curling from his lips.
"That fool has truly lived long enough," he said coldly. "To dare sow discord between Naruto and the village… between Naruto and me."
His grip on the pipe tightened.
Originally, Mizuki's role had been simple: pressure. A controlled threat. A disposable test to probe Naruto's resolve and the stability of the seal. If Mizuki died in the process, it would have been a clean solution.
Now?
Hiruzen's eyes darkened.
"Killing him outright would be too merciful," he said quietly. "I hope Ibiki takes his time."
For the first time that night, regret crept into his chest.
This was a mistake, he admitted inwardly. I should have used ANBU from the start.
Letting a bitter, unstable chunin play this role had been reckless. Mizuki's hatred had gone far beyond what was necessary—and worse, he had spoken truths Naruto was never meant to hear so brutally.
But regret changed nothing.
Hiruzen straightened, gaze hardening.
"Now all that matters," he murmured, "is whether Naruto collapses… or survives."
The image in the crystal ball shifted violently.
"Don't disappoint me," Hiruzen said, voice low. "Not now."
In the Forest of Death, the air itself seemed to freeze.
Naruto's body stood still—but the presence inside it had changed.
The boy who had been shaking, broken, and hollow moments earlier was gone.
In his place stood Lock.
Cold.
Awake.
And furious.
The killing intent pouring from his eyes was so dense it felt tangible, pressing down on Mizuki's chest like a physical weight. Even the surrounding forest seemed to recoil, insects falling silent as if sensing a predator far beyond them.
Everything Mizuki had said—every word meant to shatter Naruto—had passed through Lock as well.
The despair.
The self-loathing.
The suffocating realisation of what Naruto truly was.
It had all flooded through the shared consciousness like a tidal wave.
That was why the darkness had surged so violently.
That was why the pressure inside Lock had finally broken free.
Mizuki grimaced, his expression still smug, though a flicker of surprise crossed his eyes.
"So you still have strength left," he sneered. "Impressive."
His arm was trapped in Lock's grip, unable to descend further, but Mizuki wasn't afraid.
This was just a child.
A dying struggle.
He had seen it countless times.
"You won't last," Mizuki said confidently. "And don't delude yourself—if that seal could break from the inside, it would've happened years ago."
His eyes gleamed.
"I'll break the vessel instead. When the fox comes out, no one will care where I go."
Lock inhaled slowly.
The scent of damp soil and old trees filled his lungs.
"So this is what it feels like," he murmured. "Being here."
He looked at Mizuki.
Truly looked at him.
The contempt in his gaze was absolute.
"You were laughing earlier," Lock said calmly.
His fingers tightened.
There was a sickening crack.
Mizuki screamed.
"Aaaagh—!"
His right arm twisted at an impossible angle, bone snapping cleanly as Lock crushed it without hesitation. Flesh tore, ligaments failed, and the limb hung uselessly at his side.
Mizuki's confidence evaporated instantly.
"What—what the hell are you!?" he roared, pain and shock contorting his face.
He reacted on instinct, his remaining hand shooting for Naruto's throat, fingers digging in with murderous force.
"Die, you disgusting demon!"
Another sharp sound rang out.
Crack.
This time, it wasn't just bone breaking—it was separation.
Mizuki's arm flew free, severed cleanly, blood spraying across the forest floor in a crimson arc.
Lock stepped back lightly, landing with perfect balance.
In his hand was a kunai, slick with blood.
Mizuki collapsed, howling, his screams raw and animalistic as he writhed in the dirt.
Lock watched him with a bright, almost cheerful smile.
"So weak," he said mildly. "You don't even qualify as practice."
The difference was overwhelming.
Against Lock's refined, ruthless control of the body, Mizuki wasn't a threat—he was prey.
Mizuki felt it too.
This wasn't the annoying brat he despised.
The Naruto from before had been loud, irritating, stubborn—but human.
What stood before him now was something else entirely.
Cold.
Focused.
Utterly devoid of hesitation.
Fear flooded Mizuki's eyes.
"You—you're not Naruto," he gasped. "You're the Demon Fox… you broke the seal!"
Lock laughed.
A genuine laugh—clear, sharp, mocking.
"The Demon Fox?" he repeated. "If it were the fox, you'd already be dead."
He tilted his head.
"It wouldn't waste words on you. And it certainly wouldn't play."
Mizuki's eyes widened.
"Play…?"
Hope—fragile and desperate—sparked in his gaze.
"So you're not the fox," he babbled. "You're just a kid! I can work with that! Whatever you want—money, secrets—I'll give you everything!"
Lock didn't answer.
Instead, he turned and lightly tapped the tree trunk beside him with the tip of his kunai.
Tap.
Then he smiled.
A smile far too innocent for what came next.
"Let's play hide-and-seek," Lock said brightly. "If I don't catch you by the time I finish counting to one hundred… You win."
Mizuki froze.
Lock's eyes gleamed.
"The prize," he added softly, "is your life."
Terror obliterated reason.
Mizuki didn't question it.
He didn't think.
He ran.
Ignoring the agony of his shattered arm, he dragged himself forward, stumbling through the undergrowth, branches tearing at his clothes and skin.
"100," Lock said calmly.
"99."
"98."
The sound of that voice—steady, cheerful—sent Mizuki into hysterics. He screamed as he ran, breath ragged, heart threatening to burst.
A sudden gust of wind tore past him.
Slash!
A burning line of pain ripped across his back.
"Aaah!"
"75," Lock continued.
"74."
"73."
Mizuki didn't dare stop screaming.
He pushed himself harder, vision blurring with tears.
Another sound—sharp and final.
Slash!
His right leg was severed at the hip.
Blood sprayed as Mizuki crashed to the ground, shrieking in agony.
"40."
"39."
"38."
The numbers fell like a funeral bell.
Mizuki sobbed, dragging himself forward with his hands, fingernails tearing against dirt and stone.
"I don't want to die," he whimpered. "Please… I don't want to die…"
Another flash.
Slash!
His remaining leg was cut away just as cleanly.
"20."
"19."
"18."
Mizuki could no longer crawl.
He writhed, chin scraping across the ground as he tried to move even an inch farther.
Blood pooled beneath him.
His vision dimmed.
The counting slowed.
"3."
"2."
A smile crept onto Mizuki's face.
Delusional.
Relieved.
I made it…
But the final number never came.
Instead—
A sharp pain exploded through his chest.
Mizuki gasped, eyes flying open as a kunai burst out from his sternum, blood pouring from the wound.
Behind him, Lock leaned close, voice soft and amused.
"Hehe," he whispered. "Mizuki-sensei…"
"You lost."
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