Poison Spiral

by Evil Riggs

Later in life, Naruto Uzumaki is deployed to a distant industrial town on cryptic orders. In a city torn between warring clans and rotten with secrets, Naruto slowly finds himself coming unraveled. For those who like a bit of noir with your ninjutsu. Conceived of before—and does not follow—the series' canon ending. Rated M for blood, sweat, tears, and other precious bodily fluids.

13. 13

13

He'd almost feel bad for them, if they weren't such obvious fucking assholes.

After all, the displacement jutsu is so basic it's barely even considered one. It is literally taught to children barely old enough to tie their own bootlaces.

And yet, these idiots fell for it without Naruto even breaking a sweat.

He stands balanced in the upper branches of one of the piñon trees looming about Daigo's shop. Naruto sniffs at the sharp, gelatinous scent of pine sap. Dry needles scrape against his palms. No more than five or six meters below, the three bandits blink and cast about—looking for all the world like they've just been visited by a ghost.

Naruto figures he has five, maybe ten seconds before even these dim lamps catch on. No time to consider strategy. In his head, he flicks irritably from jutsu to jutsu, technique to technique. He finds that—even though the highwaymen put him in an intensely foul mood—he doesn't actually want to kill them. It'd be like swatting flies with a bomb.

Without really thinking about it, Naruto hunches forward and slips the travelling pack from his shoulders. He stows it against the tree's scraggly trunk. His eyes never leave Ichikawa and his companions. Naruto comes to a decision.

Well. The classics are almost always the best, anyway.

The hand seals are barely even necessary. He's been practicing the technique for so long that he could do it in his sleep—that is, if chakra-crafting didn't require conscious intention. All the same, Naruto's fingers and palms dart through a flurry of movements. He feels that familiar warm charge crackle through his pressure points, and—

He splits.

He splits—

one
two
THREE times.

All sensations triple. Three new sets of nostrils take in the acrid spice of the trees.

Suddenly, he gazes on the world through six new eyes. New angles emerge—lower, higher, farther away. All at once, Naruto knows the disorienting, spectacular excitement of becoming they.

Within this division, Naruto feels something well up in him like a geyser. As each new perspective cracks apart and solidifies—settling into place like something molten poured into a strange new mold—he is overwhelmed with elation. Every one of his hearts pumps with the pure, triumphant joy of joining the fight.

They fall as one.