"The Cosmic Laws of Kami: A Compendium"
— by Orochimaru
Article I: Existential Boundaries
Residing within the celestial plane, each Kami, the cosmic deities, transcends the shackles of our spacetime and physical laws. Their visage can alter based on their will or the faith of their adherents, often envisioned as stellar constellations or celestial entities.
Contributor: Uzumaki Naruto
"Had the pleasure of meeting one with Toru. I would not recommend the experience."
Contributor: Uchiha Toru
"shit sucked"
Article II: Process of Manifestation
Kami choose forms relatable to the inhabitants when descending into the physical plane. They seemingly can only manifest in one physical world at a time, committing to their choice at the onset of the process. The energy and time required for this materialization can be lessened through increased faith or strong affinity with the plane. Manifesting more fully amplifies their cosmic powers in a proportionate manner.
Contributor: Uzumaki Karin
"I've monitored the energy fluctuations during the manifestation of a Kami. As they come into our world, their power increases, and their form changes, depending on the location, and the kami's whims. Also, I noticed the process was quicker and smoother in areas where the faith was stronger or where the Kami had more of a connection."
Question: Orochimaru (World #07)
It is stated, or rather, theorized, that Kami can only manifest in one physical world at a time. This raises the question of how exactly Kami are limited in their capacity to manifest in multiple worlds simultaneously. Is it a self-imposed limitation or an inherent one? What would happen if a Kami tried to break this rule?
Article III: Bridge to Physicality
For a Kami to manifest within the physical realm, they necessitate a tether, which is forged either through sentient faith or a strong tie to a location. The robustness of this bond dictates the ease and speed of their materialization.
Contributor: Uzumaki Ino
"During a telepathic experiment with a priest who was apparently a kami vessel, although a weak one, a tangible link was perceived, connecting the physical world with the realm of the Kami. The strength of this link is likely correlated with collective faith, the vessel's… or a specific Kami's affinity with a particular realm."
Question: Nara Shikamaru (World #07)
The concept of tether suggests a connection between the physical realm and the realm of the Kami. But the exact nature of this tether is not clear. How is it created or destroyed? How does it influence the relationship between the Kami and its followers or chosen realm?
Meeting of the Multiversal Council
October 5th, Year Zero of the Unification
Projection Set In Imperial Palace's Heaven Room
Safe, R-Encrypted Copy
PRESENT
[…]
Arrival:
Sarutobi Hiruzen, from World #5918 (Shizune's Note to K,N: A world where kekkei genkai are shared and passed down through mentorship instead of bloodlines.)
[…]
Sarutobi Hiruzen (#5918): […] He fathered no offspring, yet all of the villagers became his children.
Uzumaki Naruto (Chair): Enough with the [rambling]. Is there a point you are trying to make?
Orochimaru (Chair): I'm afraid we found this one too late. Old age truly is a curse, isn't it? Perhaps this was a mistake.
Uzumaki Kaitaro (Chair): He looked fine when we found him.
Orochimaru (#07): Whatever you saw in him, I cannot say. But he is hardly any different from the one I knew.
Meeting of the Multiversal Council
October 14th, Year Zero of the Unification
Projection Set In Imperial Palace's Heaven Room
Safe, R-Encrypted Copy
PRESENT
[…]
Arrivals:
…
Uzumaki Naruko, from World #466 (Mai's Note to K,N: A world where the person in question became the Empress and requires mates yearly. She also attempted to grab my rear, but was unable to do so, this being a holographic projection.)
[…]
Uzumaki Naruko (#466): Incredible.
Uzumaki Naruto (Chair): The Kami menace is quite a lot to take in, I understand that.
Uzumaki Naruko (#466): Yes, that too. But I meant your ass. How do you train it to get it like that?
Uchiha Toru (#01): Oh, no.
Meeting of the Multiversal Council
October 17th, Year Zero of the Unification
Projection Set In Imperial Palace's Heaven Room
Safe, R-Encrypted Copy
PRESENT
[…]
Arrivals:
…
Uzumaki-Namikaze Naruto, from World #237 (Shizune's Note to K,N: A world where the person in question is known as The Heir. I cannot understand him; he also said something about me being a fool, blinded by false idols. I did not understand that either, because I left in the middle of his speech.)
[…]
Uzumaki-Namikaze Naruto (#237): That is quite a situation you have on your arms. Why do you let others decide for you, however?
Uzumaki Naruto (Chair): […] I beg your pardon?
Uzumaki-Namikaze Naruto (#237): Gods, you say. Supposedly.
Uzumaki Naruto (Chair): Yes. That is what we are facing.
Uzumaki-Namikaze Naruto (#237): I have never believed in God.
Uzumaki Naruto (Chair): I am unsure whether or not you are trying to make a point. We have met them.
Uzumaki-Namikaze Naruto (#237): I have no time for such delusions. I only believe in what is observable.
Uzumaki Naruto (Chair): I suppose the latest demonstration of world-crossing power was not enough, then?
Uchiha Toru (#01): I told you guys.
Uzumaki Kaitaro (Chair): Perhaps you should go and meet a kami on your own, 237.
Uzumaki-Namikaze Naruto (#237): You have wasted enough of my time. I must go and think of what must be done.
Mahoutokoro?
"Alright. This should be about as safe as it gets, and the illusion should hold even while I'm away if you feed it chakra. No one will question your presence here, in spite of the fact that you're all… well… pretty useless at anything magic-related. Try to get up to speed before school starts, okay? …Or don't, it's on you. See you in a while."
Next to Nacchan, Uchiha Sarada scowled.
Nacchan kinda understood. Mahoutokoro was an interesting place, but she likely had other things on her mind. Nacchan, on the other hand, could barely think of anything else.
Wizards were real, first thing.
Wizards went to wizard school.
Wizards were fucking dicks.
Well… not all of them. But people like Imai Kazuo or Tamaki Juro were certainly not helping matters, what with the way they were talking of Mumajin — non-magicals, people without magical abilities.
Like Nacchan was.
Not that anyone besides the three younger teenagers he hung with most of the time (luckily, his friends from back home couldn't see it) knew… thanks to the strange amulet that terrifying Sakura had given him.
…
"Keep this around your neck at all times." She said. Then, thinking about it, she added: "You know what, let me make sure it stays there."
Up close, she smelled of hydrangeas, like his Sakura did—
Not his. Never his.
Besides, the Sakura he knew didn't have this strange metallic scent mixed in with her perfume.
There was a flash of light.
"…What does it do?" Nacchan asked, a bit hesitantly. He was afraid that it might be something to keep him in line — if she even needed it. "If it's a shock collar—"
Sakura grinned. "It's going to keep you out of trouble." Her smile dimmed a bit when she looked at Sarada. "Because you fuckers might just need it, what with…"
Boruto intervened. "We get it, we get it." He said. "No need to rub it in."
"I wasn't about to talk about the Chūnin Exams." Sakura shook her head. "Anyway, I've sealed a little extra something inside your bellies while you were sleeping."
"What?!"
"Don't worry." Sakura rolled her eyes. "It's just something I made to force you back here, should you ever meet, detect anything kami-like… or something."
"What—"
"It won't happen, but it never hurts to be safe, right?"
…
So yeah.
That necklace helped Nacchan pretend to be a wizard, too.
He wasn't entirely sure what it was, but as long as Boruto or Mitsuki — or Sarada technically, but it was hard to predict her moods — fed it chakra from time to time…
Nacchan could just wave his cherry wand around and pretend he was a real wizard.
Which was the only reason they were able to even stay in the school — their marks were pretty awful, especially Boruto and Sarada. Mitsuki just read whatever… it could find, and Nacchan was a fast learner, so in time he'd be able to pretend.
To be an actual wizard.
And man… casting actual magic had been incredible. Even though for now it had been nothing but a weak lighting spell and sparks. It took his mind off many things.
His parents had been worried at first, of course, but as long as he sent them letters, using this necklace — and assured them he would finish his… more normal sort of schooling at some point, they'd likely be fine.
Besides, they had some other shit to deal with right now, apparently.
Nacchan's dad's main opponent had dropped from the political race entirely, for one. And no one could tell where Orochimaru was. Frankly, Nacchan was starting to believe it had been one the Lightning Emperor's latest… offerings of mercy toward the Namikaze-Uzumaki household.
And Nacchan was not entirely sure whether or not he wanted to know more about it. He could remember some of the words that man had said.
"Wishes are rarely granted, Nacchan."
Perhaps Orochimaru was trapped in the same place the man named Ryūnosuke had been. Perhaps he was dead. He wasn't sure which one was the least terrible option. Nacchan let out a quick shiver and the green tea served by moving gauntlets of ancient Japanese armor warmed him up some.
…Because they were in Japan, apparently. In a world eerily similar to the one Nacchan was from, were it not for the date — they were in 1994, here.
…Or perhaps there were wizards back home, too. It was hard to say, they were very secretive.
In any case, this particular school of Magic — there were others — was named Mahoutokoro. Located at the topmost point of Minami Iwo Jima, a volcanic island in the southern tropical region of Japan, it was a beautiful palace made of nephrite, which was a translucent white stone.
Nacchan remembered that the school was ancient; that it had a reputation for producing impeccable scholars… and players of a sport named Quidditch, too. Nacchan did not really get the chance to see it, because there was some other wizard event going on this year.
Students began…
No. Wizards began attending school at eleven. Some were flown back and forth to their homes on a daily basis, on the backs of gigantic birds. Nacchan considered it pretty wasteful, but what did he know of wizarding culture, anyways…?
Ah. Students wore robes that changed color as their wearer grew, starting with pink.
Since Nacchan had basically cheated his way into the school, — and also because he was as old as the oldest students — he was wearing purple robes, the third-to-last color. A good one, normally.
Now, as for the school, the palace itself was shaped like a pagoda, wood structures blending in seamlessly with white stone. The doors were fusuma, which Nacchan supposed was befitting of ancient japan… and there were tatami everywhere, of course.
It was set high up in the mountains, above the cloud line.
Bridges led from mountain to mountain, and there were plenty of trees and rivers, too. And then there were the mystical Houses.
Phoenix, Dragon, Turtle, Crane were some of them.
And the Great Master lived on top of the central mountaintop, which was properly mystical—
"Come with us, Naruto-chan." Mitsuki said, smiling, cutting through his inner monologue.
Naruto-chan...? It was Nacchan, if they had to pick one. "…What for?"
"They're doing the admissions."
"…What for?"
"Haven't you been listening to Boruto?" Mitsuki asked, tilting his head, somewhat creepily.
"…He talks a lot." Nacchan admitted.
"He does." Mitsuki nodded. "I believe it's a primary need of his, so I let him do it."
"…Okay?" Nacchan muttered.
"Come." Mitsuki said. "Sarada convinced one Master that we would present ourselves as a group. I believe she did so because of the last exams we took part in."
"No fucking wonder. Wait… 'Convinced'…?" Nacchan asked, sounding a bit worried.
"Yes." Mitsuki smiled, miming swirling eyes, and it was kinda creepy.
…
The room was dark and full of smoke.
Nacchan supposed it was good for theatrics, but it mostly gave him a headache and a painful stomach. He sat, seiza-style, which hurt both his ankles and knees.
Seven men and one woman — eight was apparently a powerful number for japanese wizards — sat in front of them, slightly above the group of four. They looked scarily serious, and the youngest of them looked ancient.
For a moment, Nacchan worried that they were communing through thought, wizard-style, or something like it.
It turned out that it was only the regular sort of silence.
"Your names." The one in the middle of them said.
"Uchiha Sarada."
"Uzumaki Boruto."
"Namikaze-U… Naruto."
"Mitsuki."
One of the men paused. "…Of no clan?" He asked, smiling in a somewhat mocking way.
Mitsuki mulled it over. "Of the Snake Clan."
"Arashikage, Ogata or Tsuchinoko?"
Mitsuki stared at him, never flinching. "Does it matter, Honored Master?"
The Master hissed.
Smoke twirled.
There was a moment of tense silence. Nacchan saw Sarada palm a blade quietly and his anxiety levels spiked to levels that a few months ago, he would have called unreachable. She gave him an unreadable look.
"It is customary to state your clan." One of the Masters said.
"Is it absolutely necessary?" Mitsuki asked. "The Mahoutokoro Elders know of it, and have agreed upon the need for secrecy, in this… particular case."
The Mahoutokoro Masters and the Overseers for this particular event rarely communicated, according to Sarada's undoubtedly ill-gotten information.
Another man spoke, low and imperious.
"I have heard nothing of it. Do you swear this to be true, upon your honor?"
"Yes." Mitsuki lied smoothly.
"In fact…" Nacchan began, ignoring the beads of sweat rolling down his face. "I will gladly swear his words to be nothing but the truth. Upon my magic."
The Masters hissed. Sarada nodded in approval.
"You would?"
"I swear so." Nacchan did and a thread of gold wrapped around his cherry wand.
Nacchan waved it in one of the only patterns he knew, and sparks erupted from it. Proof that he hadn't lied.
…Or that he didn't actually have any magic to swear upon, technically. It was a pretty useful trick.
"Foolish." The Master of Heaven and Earth sighed and gave him an irritated look. "But it is true, then."
The one to his right was about to voice his displeasure, but a look silenced him.
"Shall we begin, then…?" The Master of Thunder asked.
The Master of Heaven and Earth did.
"We have a few questions for you." He said. "For the chance to partake in the Triwizard Tournament selection."
A Tournament, then…? Nacchan frowned. He really should have listened to Boruto, instead of just nodding and pretending to. But this was a safe world, with no ninja shit. He was just going there to accompany his friends.
A traitorous part of him whispered something else: with that necklace, he could even take part in a wizard tournament, he was pretty sure of it.
They were magical, anyway. Surely they had some sort of protection against truly dangerous things. Unlike ninja, they did make killing a business.
A master spoke:
"Pray tell, in which instances have you previously encountered situations of great peril or hazardous magical confrontations, and how did you maintain composure?"
Mitsuki was the one to answer, and the lies glided off his tongue smoothly. He remembered to be polite, this time, too.
"Honored Masters, I have encountered numerous perilous situations during my magical education, including a close encounter with a rogue magical creature. In such instances, I maintain composure by focusing on my training, recalling relevant spells, and my intense practice of meditation."
Nacchan did not remember seeing him meditate even once.
One Master raised his eyebrows a little.
"You say you have faced a beast already, at your age?"
Nacchan raised his wand. "We shall only speak true answers, for as long as this meeting lasts. I swear so upon my magic."
The Master of Water slammed his hand down upon the table.
"Foolish boy." He growled. "Will you stop—"
The Master of Heaven and Earth's eyes gleamed with light.
"Kazan."
Nacchan could not remember whether this was a spell or Water-guy's name.
The interview went on. A more polite man asked the next question.
"Esteemed pupil, in the vast tapestry of magical history, could you expound upon the contributions of a notable witch or wizard whose achievements and innovations have indelibly shaped the magical world as we know it today?"
Sarada answered this one.
"Honored Master, I would shed light upon the life and accomplishments of the venerable Nakamura Takeshi. As an extraordinarily talented wizard, he has made significant contributions to the magical world. Among his many achievements, he is celebrated for being a formidable wizard… his prowess in magical dueling and his mastery of obscure offensive spells."
Nacchan was pretty sure the only reason they had something that could pass for an answer was that they were communicating through thought. The three of them together, perhaps they would manage. Nacchan didn't have that chance, though.
"Nakamura-sama was a fierce defender of magical creatures and beings… and his unwavering commitment to the pursuit of knowledge and wisdom. His advocacy for the fair treatment of magical creatures and beings has been a driving force for change and progress within our magical society."
"Bah." The Master of Earth muttered. "Anyone knows as much. To what extent do magical creatures possess agency and autonomy, and how should wizards treat them accordingly?"
"Magical creatures exhibit varying degrees of agency and autonomy." Boruto said. "Their treatment should be guided by respect… but differs. Because of their individuality, each has their own characteristics and needs."
The Master of Metal changed topics and Nacchan blinked at the question.
"Why did the Saito Empire collapse?"
"They were fighting two different wars at the same time." Nacchan said, because he remembered that one.
Another spoke.
"Is the nature of magic inherent or acquired, and to what extent do innate abilities and learned skills contribute to a witch or wizard's power?"
Feeling like the world's biggest hypocrite, Nacchan answered again.
"The nature of magic is a complex combination of inherent talent and acquired skills. Some individuals may possess… innate magical abilities but, diligent study, practice, and personal growth are crucial factors in harnessing and refining one's magical power."
The Master of Wind spoke.
"Is the separation of the magical and non-magical worlds ultimately beneficial or harmful for both communities?"
"I do not know, Honored Master." Boruto said. "'Ultimately' implies a scope beyond what I know."
"Good. No one does." The man smiled. "In spite of what some others may believe."
Boruto nodded. The only woman at the table spoke.
"How would you proceed, in the event that you were to encounter an unknown magical artifact? Destroy it, preserve it, study it?"
"Me specifically?" Boruto blinked. "…I wouldn't do any of these."
"What would you do?"
"I would warn a teacher." He lied.
"A fair decision. Is the pursuit of immortality through magical means a noble goal, or does it reflect a fundamental misunderstanding of the nature of life and death?"
"…Uh." Boruto hesitated. "That's a very subjective matter—"
"As my comrade says, the pursuit of immortality is a complex and subjective matter." Mitsuki spoke smoothly, as though he had heard the answer many times before. "While it may be seen as a reflection of humanity's innate desire for continuity, it can also be interpreted as a misguided attempt to escape the natural cycles of life and death, leading to potential imbalance and unforeseen consequences."
"You are not the one that he asked." The woman said.
"And yet I have answered." Mitsuki nodded. "We are a team. That is his answer, as well."
"Preposterous."
Nacchan intervened. "I swear it is so."
He waved his wand and a blue glow lit the room up. Two of the Masters growled.
Nacchan hastily put his wand away.
"We would not have come as a group if we didn't learn from each other." Boruto said, with false confidence.
The Master that had been silent since the very beginning of the meeting finally spoke.
"Do you know the nine words to forcefully bind the Curse of Despair to a soul?"
Boruto thought about it. "No."
"Good." He nodded. "We would have had to execute you, otherwise."
He laughed.
Boruto laughed—
The man slapped his hand on the table, looking furious. "This is no laughing matter!" He spat.
"N-No. It is not." Boruto nodded quickly.
The Master of Heaven and Earth motioned for them to be quiet.
"One last question." He said slowly.
Nacchan waited.
"Why…" The Master began. "Do you wish to participate in the Triwizard Tournament?"
Sarada stared at him, almost defiantly.
"To hone our abilities." She said, with cold eyes. "We are seeking to test our limits."
Nacchan felt a chill go down his spine, and was unsure why.
"…To prove our worth as wizards." Mitsuki said.
"And uphold the values we have come to cherish on this path." Boruto added.
"We are driven by an unwavering determination to honor the legacy of our school." Nacchan added.
For good measure, he produced a few golden sparks with his wand.
"So mote it be."
A Master growled.
Boruto, Sarada, Mitsuki and Nacchan followed the rest of the Mahoutokoro delegation dutifully.
It was the day, or rather the night, they were to arrive at the place where the tournament would be held.
It was also one in the morning.
Boruto glanced around, and Nacchan was not the only student who happened to look tired. Sarada did, too, but she always had these huge bags under her eyes anyway. Like her dad.
The director and their teacher for the year — who was not the Grand Master — Mu-sensei, had all the students line up in the ofuda's perimeter. The paper talismans had always felt more familiar to Boruto, because in a way, they looked like sealing tags.
Once everyone was lined up in order of magical power and knowledge, if Boruto was reading their robes right, Mu raised his momiji wand high up. The ofuda lit up.
In a flash of gold, they went through space.
Some of the students let out barely hidden noises of worry as they did. Boruto didn't, because crossing the boundaries of reality was something that seemed to happen every Tuesday anyway.
The golden mists surrounding them parted slowly, revealing a castle in the distance, and a large lake to their left.
It was a cold evening here, and at six o' clock, dusk was just falling.
There were rows of foreign students at the castle's entrance, waiting.
These were wizards, as well, of course. From a country named England, which was where Boruto and the others now found themselves.
Mu guided all of the Mahoutokoro students toward them.
Soon after, a gigantic, blue… horse-drawn carriage landed on the plain. Another competing school, then.
The students wore light blue wizard robes and hats. They were shivering from the surrounding cold. Boruto had thought wizards, just like ninja, could do something to keep themselves warm, but maybe he had been wrong on that.
They were from a country named France, and their school's director was the tallest woman Boruto had ever seen.
The two directors led their respective schools into the castle's Great Hall.
…
Boruto realized, a bit late, that the three countries did not share the same language.
Which was a strange thing.
And Nacchan, who supposedly spoke the language, mumbled something about not really getting their accent.
In any case, he focused on the large silk banners that hung from the walls, red, blue, yellow and green.
Boruto was not the best sensor around, but according to Mitsuki, who was... none of the students, whether French (Beauxbâtons) or English (Hogwarts) seemed particularly strong. Which meant they relied on cleverness, likely.
Boruto nodded to himself, and knew that Sarada had likely come to the same realization; she had a tight grip on her fork — which was the main eating utensil, here.
"Are you excited, Boruto?" Mitsuki asked.
Boruto blinked. "…Are you?"
Mitsuki shrugged. "I wouldn't know. That is why I'm asking."
"It can't be worse than these ninja exams." Nacchan muttered.
"They were not that bad." Mitsuki smiled. "We made pleasant memories and tightened our bonds. Just because it ended on what I assumed to be a bad note… doesn't change that."
"…Uncle did not even come to see us." Boruto groused.
"And that's a bad thing, how?" Nacchan asked. "There was already enough—"
Sarada was staring at him. Boruto kicked his shin under the table and Nacchan yelped.
"Silence, fools." A voice called out.
It was Mu-sensei. Sarada considered her fork for one more moment, but she decided to put it down.
Mu dropped four talismans in front of them, just like he had done for the other Mahoutokoro students.
"What's that for?" Boruto asked, twirling it.
"Translation." Mu-sensei grunted.
Sarada thought fast.
This was the sort of thing her Auntie might have a use for.
"I didn't get one, Mu-sensei." She said. Boruto and Mitsuki, loyal as ever, didn't question it.
"Yes you did, you little fool." The teacher scowled. "I just gave you one."
Her red eyes met his, spinning. Here was a target she knew was safe. "No, you didn't."
"…No, I didn't."
…
"Yes, that is Harry Potter." Someone said to Boruto.
The talisman was working, then. Plenty of students were standing in front of the Goblet of Fire and entering their names in it.
Boruto nodded and gave the student a thumbs up. "Okay."
He did not know what a Harry Potter was.
But considering they were watching applicants putting their names in it, and clapping, he assumed it meant a good thing.
In any case, there was an age line, which prevented people from under seventeen from competing.
"Do you want to try, Nacchan?" Boruto asked.
Nacchan blinked. Eh, what the hell.
"…I mostly came to see it, but sure, why not." He muttered. "Give me your names and I'll enter all of us."
"You can't do that!" A girl with bushy hair cried out.
"…Why not?" Nacchan asked, frowning. Was it dangerous...?
"Because the applicants have to be seventeen!"
Nacchan rolled his eyes.
"No." Sarada shook her head. "It just means they can't cross this age line if they aren't. Nacchan is seventeen, even though he doesn't look like it. He can drop our names in it."
"It doesn't matter, in any case." Mitsuki added. "We could simply walk on the ceiling and use rope to put our names in ourselves."
"Or throw them." Boruto shrugged. "I suppose it would take a few tries, but still."
"B-but…" The girl tried.
Nacchan entered their names, causing the ancient artifact to flare with blue fire four times.
"See?" Sarada asked. "If anything, it might have been a test of our will to power. We're done here, boys."
The bushy haired girl stared at them, unsure whether to feel offended or disappointed in the simplistic ward that her Director had chosen for the task.
"Yes." Boruto smiled at her, crinkling his eyes — and the girl blushed. "That was quite Harry Potter of us."
…
Nacchan ate food that he did not particularly enjoy.
And… was this pumpkin juice…?
His glass vanished mid-sip and he made a strange choked noise. Boruto laughed.
The students were tense, because the champion selection was finally about to take place. The ancient bearded wizard summoned darkness with a wave of his wand — ah, no… he just had blown the candles out.
"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," He said. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber."
The only remaining light was coming from the Goblet of Fire; a white-blue glow.
Then it turned red.
A tongue of flame shot into the air and the bearded man, named Dumbledore, caught it.
"The champion for Hogwarts…" He read in a clear, loud voice. "Is Cedric Diggory!"
The Hall exploded into cheers. People dressed in yellow jumped to their feet, screaming, as the guy in question made his way past the table, grinning.
The clapping died down.
Everyone stared at the goblet again. It turned red, once more and a second name came out of it.
"The champion for Beauxbâtons…" Dumbledore marked a pause. "…Fleur Delacour!"
Nacchan watched the most beautiful girl he had seen graciously strode past her table.
Boruto remarked that the applause for her was 'almost as loud as it had been for the boy from the Cedric clan.'
Some girls burst into tears at the announcement, too.
The Goblet lit up once more.
Dumbledore snatched the piece of parchment.
"And finally… the Mahoutokoro champion will be…" He paused. "Sarada, from the Uchiha clan!"
There was a moment of silence, when the young-looking girl stood up, before the students started clapping. They didn't question it. A few groans too, coming from Mahoutokoro. Sarada glared at them until they clapped too.
She walked away, toward the chamber.
"Excellent!" Dumbledore called out when the chaos died down. "Well,we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbâtons and Mahoutokoro, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real—"
The man stopped speaking.
The goblet's fire had just turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. A long flame shot into the air, and with it came another piece of parchment.
Dumbledore seized it.
There was a long pause, during which he stared at the paper, and the people stared at him.
Then he read out, loud and clear.
"Harry Potter."
Boruto, hearing the familiar expression, clapped enthusiastically.
"Harry Potter!" He chanted, grinning, and was the only one in doing so.
…
Then the Goblet spat another paper.
Nacchan found himself summoned to the antechamber too.
There was a lot of protest, until the Goblet spat yet another paper, one for Beauxbâtons.
…
Sarada blinked.
"…You too, Nacchan?" She asked.
Nacchan just shrugged. He was not entirely sure how the selection worked, but if this Goblet artifact had misunderstood the necklace's power for his own… perhaps it was no wonder he had been selected.
The other champions were grouped around the fireplace. They looked pretty impressive, with their shadows stretching wide from the flames.
Except the fourteen-year old boy with dark hair. This one mostly looked scrawny.
The last champion, a certain Lavigne Thomas— ah no, in the other order here, so Thomas Lavigne — entered.
"You, too? What is it, now…?" The beautiful girl said, contemptuously. "Little boys, girls… and Lavigne, too? This tournament is nothing but a—"
The man named Bagman was practically bouncing. "Greetings! I trust you've heard the news… had the time to introduce yourselves?"
Yeses were hissed by the champions.
Looking a bit put off by their lack of enthusiasm, Bagman hesitated. "Six champions, am I right?!" He smiled. "That's unheard of—"
"Doesn't the Tri in Triwizard imply three champions, though?" Cedric Diggory asked.
"Yes!" Bagman beamed. "…In normal circumstances."
"Then why are there two champions for each school…?"
"A few of them must have cheated." Fleur Delacour hissed. "Simple as that."
Nacchan disliked her on principle.
"Come on, now…" Bagman tried. "There are two for each school, it must be a malfunction—"
An old, grizzled man, with what looked like a strange Dojutsu in his left eye that Nacchan hadn't seen before, growled:
"Or perhaps someone's hoping for a few students to die."
Nacchan got a terrible feeling. "Why would anyone die…?" He asked slowly. "Death is all very preventable, all of you—… all of us are wizards."
No one answered.
"…I withdraw my candidature, then." Nacchan declared. "Death was not part of the deal."
The Mahoutokoro teachers certainly had not mentioned that, earlier on.
They had made it look like the highest honor for a wizard, and a way to learn about oneself.
Also, Sakura had made them promise — or had threatened them, it was hard to remember — not to get into dangerous situations. This sounded like one.
He only got bemused, somewhat mocking looks.
Someone took pity on him.
"…You can't."
…
Sarada tried to explain it to him.
"Names are powerful things." She said, feeling sorry for him. "They can beckon, call and bind, under the right conditions. Sakura told me so."
"What would Sakura know of magic?!" Nacchan hissed, trying to get a hold of his rising panic.
Sarada shrugged. "I don't know, but I think that this information, she got from her new friend — The one with white hair. She's apparently very old. Wise too. Maybe."
…
"Do the Triwizard Champions get their own rooms?" Sarada asked Dumbledore.
Nacchan listened intently.
A man with greasy long hair — named Snape — sneered at her. "Barely named a champion and already making demands? Perhaps Mahoutokoro's reputation—"
"Severus, Severus." Dumbledore waved a lazy hand, as though waving the words away cheerfully. "Are you unwilling to sleep with the rest of your classmates?"
"It will be easier to prevent any assassination attempts from the other schools if I'm on my own." Sarada stated.
Dumbledore paused.
…
There was some back-and-forth about ancient laws regarding the tournament, but in the end, all of the champions obtained their private quarters. Separate and warded.
Dumbledore led them there, and told them that they would be called for the wand weighing ceremony.
Nacchan wasn't entirely sure why the weight of a wand mattered, but that was a problem for another time.
They all settled into their respective quarters, and most champions proceeded to ignore the others.
Sarada told Nacchan that Boruto and Mitsuki were to sleep in the dungeons, which made him wonder what they were being punished for already.
…
Their participation in the Triwizard Tournament meant that they didn't have to take part in their end of years exams.
Which meant that they didn't have to go to class, either.
Boruto and Mitsuki supposedly did, but considering their spotty sort of attendance at Mu's lessons, it didn't seem like it mattered much to them.
By the end of their second week here, the two of them appeared more often in Hogwarts' classes than anywhere else.
Nacchan, on the other hand, used every resource at hand to figure out how not to die in the incoming Tournament.
That included pestering the three ninja for training.
And truly, there was nothing quite like getting destroyed by his alternate-self's younger son to make Nacchan realize how far behind he was, compared to ninja.
Wizards were likely the same, he thought, but he never saw any of them exercise… outside of the Quidditch pitch.
Nacchan ran every day, because Boruto told him that endurance might be more important than strength for a wizard.
Once that was done, he spent most of the day hunched over books, trying to figure out how to increase his chances at surviving.
Every night, he dragged his beaten carcass to bed.
…
"What do you want?" Sarada spat at the young blond teenager who had tried to corner her.
Her wizard-wand was already out and she was palming a short blade in the other, of course. He was wearing something around his neck that looked very much like a camera — but did wizard-cameras look the same…?
"…I—I was sent to fetch you for the ceremony." The teenager said, quite nervously.
"A ritual?" Sarada hissed. "Do you think me foolish enough to — Oh, the wand-weighing, then."
"Yes!"
"Why didn't you say so right away?" She scowled.
Sarada walked through now semi-familiar hallways, headed for the room she had been instructed to go to.
"Our youngest champion!" Bagman exclaimed.
"I am here." Sarada stated flatly.
And she was the last.
"As we said on the selection day… the first task is designed to test your daring." The man who had deep shadows under his eyes — not Nacchan, the older, English one — repeated.
"We know this already." Fleur muttered.
They also had no right to ask their teachers for help or information of any kind.
Which Mu had taken as a very important rule. Sarada had used her Sharingan on him, but he truly had known nothing.
She was cautious. Before she knew who she could safely use her Sharingan on, — for example, this Dumbledore man seemed like a bad idea — she would extract the information. Nacchan, for one, seemed like he could really use it.
But if she messed up and used it on the wrong person, like that Dojutsu wielder, and the secret of her eyes got out… things would become much more complicated—
"Rita Skeeter, from the Daily Prophet — May I have a word?" A shrill voice asked, in saccharine tones.
Sarada realized she was talking to her.
"The what?" She asked, frowning.
"The best newspapers in all of—
"Do not speak to me." Sarada hissed.
Sakura had warned her about the dangers of speaking to interviewers. Nacchan blinked but followed her example.
"Fine." Rita muttered. She added something that sounded vaguely insulting, but was also local vernacular that Sarada did not care for.
She then tried her hand with the girl with silvery hair, Fleur, who ignored her pointedly.
A weird old man came to examine their wands.
He muttered something about cherry wands when Nacchan's turn came.
"—most impressive." The old man said.
"…I guess." Nacchan muttered. "It's just a wand."
Sarada knew there was apparently a distinction between the types of wands, but then again, any of them would have worked for Nacchan, considering he was not even using his own chakra—… magic power… whatever.
The comment seemed to make Fleur react, though. "Do not be silly." She said smartly.
Nacchan glanced at her.
"Why do you even care…? A wand is a wand."
Taken aback by Nacchan's very unimpressed answer, Fleur's expression shifted from annoyance to angry surprise. Well… she was practically hissing. "My grandmother gave some of her precious hair to have mine made—"
The old wand maker cleared his throat, attempting to diffuse the tension. "Now, now, let's not let our tempers get the best of us. A wand is indeed a tool, but it is also a reflection of the wizard's character and potential. It is a bond not to be taken lightly."
Nacchan frowned, contemplating the old man's words. "Alright, I get it. I didn't mean to disrespect the importance of wands. It's just... new to me, that's all."
"No wonder. What would a little boy like you know of such things?" Fleur sniffed.
Fleur knew how he would react before he did. Her powerful allure, that she had been born with, had boys, men willing to throw away their dignity for even a whiff of her approval. And one as weak as this one seemed to be, both physically and magically speaking would probably even grovel.
"Cool." Nacchan rolled his eyes. "No need to be such an asshole about it."
Fleur blinked.
…
"I'm glad to see all of you getting along so well." Dumbledore said, with bright eyes, when he came into the room, along with the horrified other two directors.
…
"She's a fucking lunatic." Nacchan muttered to Sarada. He was talking about Fleur Delacour.
And he knew something about lunatics, by now. But to try to attack him, in broad daylight…? Maybe shinobi and wizards were not that different, after all.
Sarada noticed that Fleur would occasionally glare at Nacchan, her anger evident.
She fell back on her lessons. "I think she likes you." Sarada whispered. "Be careful around her."
Nacchan almost choked on his laugh. "What kind of shit are you saying…?"
…
"Mitsuki, I told you not to." Boruto hissed. "You can't use a kunai in Potions Class!" He yanked the sharp weapon out of his friend's hand as the man named Snape looked on, very disapprovingly.
"It cuts the ingredients more efficiently." Mitsuki replied, his tone eerily serene. "Isn't efficiency a virtue?"
"Indeed." Snape snapped, his dark eyes narrowed. Like twin slits of scornful ice. "But here at Hogwarts, we use proper tools. Ten points from Gryffindor!"
Some of the other students began to whine.
Boruto frowned. "But… we're not even from your school."
"Ten points for your cheek."
The Gryffindors were starting to glare at them, too. Mostly at Snape, but still.
Boruto decided to stop attending the classes.
…
The scent of incense filled the Divination classroom, creating a mystical ambiance that most students found enchanting.
For Mitsuki, however, it mostly made his sensitive nose itch.
"The fates are never clear." The teacher intoned dramatically. "They twist and turn, like the whispers of the wind."
Mitsuki didn't quite get it.
"Isn't that lack of clarity counterproductive?" He questioned aloud, clear and sharp, like his Father had taught him to do. "If fate is guiding us, wouldn't clear guidance be more beneficial? Or shouldn't we, perhaps, discard such vague tellings entirely? Not give them any attention, particularly when they are unhelpful?"
There were a few snickers around the room.
Professor Trelawney blinked, taken aback. "Well, it's not about clarity, it's about interpretation." She countered.
Mitsuki's response was as blunt as a particularly blunt hammer. "That seems inefficient."
A snicker. Then more of them. Some were laughing openly, now.
Professor Trelawney, draped in a mass of shawls, her large glasses magnifying her eyes, seemed to lose some of her ethereal voice. She seemed a bit flustered, even.
"The stars whisper to us, their secrets shrouded in enigma." She stated, her hands waving dramatically. "Their patterns foretell change, but their messages are always entwined with ambiguity."
"That is borderline absurd." Mitsuki said, and he sounded confused. Trying to wrap his head around the concept. "Stars are, in essence, giant cosmic entities that exist in a state of continuous nuclear fusion. They are not whispering deities or mystical beings, but vast spheres of hot, glowing gas held together by their own gravity. Their core is a fusion reactor where lighter atomic nuclei combine to form heavier nuclei, releasing tremendous amounts of energy in the process."
He turned to face Professor Trelawney, his golden eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight. "They do not communicate in cryptic messages. They are, however, reliable sources of data for astronomical observations and can be used to comprehend the structure, age, and scale of the universe."
The room fell silent, all eyes turning to Professor Trelawney, whose eyes had grown even larger behind her thick glasses. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, her mystical aura momentarily replaced by surprise.
"Well…" She stammered, clearly thrown off by Mitsuki's stark explanation. "Indeed… The scientific aspects of stars are as you have… elaborated. However, their symbolic and mystic interpretations hold equally significant weight in our studies."
Mitsuki, having noted the ripple his words had caused, continued in the same calm tone.
"However, I must also acknowledge that my explanation does not cover the entirety of what stars might represent."
She nodded hastily. "Yes, exactly—"
Mitsuki paused for a moment, his eyes drifting back to the skies above.
"Malicious beings, who I have been warned about, appear to be associated with the cosmos, with stars. These entities, these cosmic horrors, are very real, despite their existence being beyond our understanding."
He turned back to face Trelawney and the rest of the class, his gaze steady.
"And while they might not literally communicate through stars, they might use our perception of stars and the mystical aura we associate with them to manifest their influence. It might well be a tactic used by them to appear more enigmatic, more mystical.
"These beings." Mitsuki continued, "Whose name I shall not mention for reasons my Father urged me to keep silent, are not to be underestimated or misunderstood as mere celestial deities. Their power, their very existence, can bring about horrors beyond our comprehension."
His golden eyes bore into each student, ensuring his words resonated. "I've heard tales, tales of... things, who can twist minds and realities alike, who can warp time and space at their whim. They can manifest as mind-bending nightmares, causing madness and despair."
He glanced towards the window, at the star-filled sky, invisible as they were during the day.
"There are those who can control the very elements, bringing forth cataclysms of fire, ice, and storms that can annihilate civilizations. Others have the power to manipulate life itself, causing unspeakable terror."
His voice dropped lower, an edge of solemnity creeping in. "Their association with stars might be symbolic, but their influence, their ability to wreak havoc, is very much real. It is an aspect we should be aware of, even as we try to understand them."
Trelawney said nothing.
No one was laughing anymore. They looked worried about him, now. Or about his words, perhaps.
Mitsuki decided to stop attending the classes before he managed to make the situation any worse.
…
Sarada never went in the first place.
…
"Dragons?!" Nacchan hissed, when he and the three shinobi were alone. "Are you for real?!"
"Yeah, that's it." Sarada muttered. "Scream it even louder, I'm sure some of the kids there haven't heard it yet."
"How can you be so calm?! We're facing fucking dragons—"
"Actually…" Mitsuki began, in the robotic tones that made Nacchan want to hang himself. "They're called European-Dragons, they're very different from the ones we know."
"Uncle once said he killed both sorts before." Boruto remarked.
"I'd rather not speak about your uncle." Nacchan said. "But I'm sure he killed all sorts of things." He added, somewhat sourly.
Mitsuki nodded in approval. "He is extremely powerful."
Nacchan ignored the Thunder Tyrant's latest fanboy. "How did you even get this information, Boruto? I thought that Sarada could not use—"
"I did not need the Sharingan." Boruto shook his head.
"How?"
"You remember that girl with curly brown hair?" Boruto asked.
"The one that seems to find you very funny…?" Sarada muttered.
"I am." Boruto said. "Also, yes, her. Her name's Hermione—"
"Out with it." Sarada groused.
"…Yeah, in any case, they're dragons." Boruto nodded. "Don't tell her I told you, she really let it slip out so… Also, she's a bit of a stickler for rules."
"Why do you look so pleased with yourself?" Sarada glared at him.
"…What?"
…
That night, Nacchan was hunched over books again.
There was only one thing on his mind. A way to survive; a way to complete the First Task.
A way to kill a dragon.
lensdump
i 6AnqH3: "Dragons..?"
i 6AnSHx: New Arrivals
i 6AcaIb: Recruiting
AN: Here's for today :)