Article VII: Mortal Interaction Principle
Faith from mortals fortifies the Kami. These deities can directly sway the mortal realm, bestowing gifts, guiding, or cursing, based on their dispositions and actions of the mortals. Such influence can even extend to stimulating forces within their domains without fully manifesting.
Contributor: Nii Yugito
"We have witnessed Kami directly influencing our world, by now. These observations suggest a blend of direct and subtle interventions."
Question: The Empress, Naruko (World #466)
Bestowing gifts, faith and sacrifices, huh. People do the same with me, I see nothing out of the ordinary here.
Question: The Heir, Naruto (World #237)
The gods are dead, Orochimaru. That's why I had to step up.
Question: Sarutobi (World #5918)
The statement that faith from mortals fortifies the Kami is intriguing. How exactly does faith affect the power of a Kami? Is it the number of believers, the intensity of their belief, or the actions performed in the name of the Kami that matter? Has anyone seen my pipe…? Can you remind me where I am?
Letters From Home
Dear Mitsuki,
I trust you are progressing well in your studies with the Hogwarts School of Wizardry.
Remember that the wisdom to gain from different perspectives is the most valuable tool a scientist and a shinobi can possess.
I have recently met with a great number of interesting people, who possess… wisdom different from mine, and it is crucial you learn and develop your own perspective from new teachings.
I have been engaged in a few new experiments and studies lately, all aimed at understanding life's mysteries further. It would be interesting to hear your perspective on these matters too, in time.
May your path always remain enlightened and your decisions true to your nature. I look forward to hearing about your experiences and your evolution.
Orochimaru
…
Dear Father,
Thank you for your letter. Studying is proving to be enlightening, and I am learning many different perspectives.
In terms of my personal growth, I am constantly learning and evolving.
My teammates, Boruto and Sarada, have played a key role in that. Naruto-chan as well. The experiences we share are invaluable and I have been able to understand my own identity better through these interactions.
It is intriguing to hear about your new experiments.
The pursuit of understanding life's mysteries is a fascinating subject indeed. I look forward to the day when we can discuss these subjects in depth.
May you continue your pursuit of knowledge without hindrance.
Mitsuki
P.S.: Could you please remind me how to remove the power limiter on the Eye? I believe a friend could use all the help he can get.
Sarada,
I hope this letter finds you well. I am writing to check on your progress. I heard from Naruto that your training is going well.
I trust that you are continuing your training with the Sharingan. Remember to not overuse it, or you'll tire yourself out.
Take care.
Sasuke
…
Father,
Thank you for your letter.
My training is indeed progressing.
Thank you for asking about my well-being, in your own way. How is your mission going? I hope you are taking care of yourself. Could you share a few stories?
Sarada
…
Sarada,
Good to know that you are being diligent in your training. The Sharingan… is a powerful tool. Control over it is important.
The mission… is going as planned. I am taking care of myself.
Keep focusing on your training.
Sasuke
…
Dear Sakura,
I don't understand that man.
I don't really want to talk about him right now, though.
Oh, Mitsuki said something really funny today! It was just like one of those old Orochimaru stories you told me about.
And remember that jutsu you showed me last time? The one with the cherry blossoms that I made you teach me?
I tried it out during training today and it worked! I think I need to perfect it though. Can't wait to show you when you are back!
Anyway, I hope your trip is going well. Here's pretty nice, I'll tell you in person.
Sarada
…
Dear Mom,
Guess what?
I used your medical ninjutsu today for the first time on a real person. I was a little worried I'd mess up, but I didn't. You should have seen the look on Boruto's face. He was stunned.
Although this might have been because he failed to dodge my fist in the first place, but that's sparring for you.
How are things on your end? I hope you're having a wonderful time at the conference.
Take care of yourself.
Sarada
Hey everyone,
I hope this letter finds you all in good health and all that.
I wanted to tell you about my journey so far. It's been nothing short of an adventure and I've been learning a lot.
I miss home – not the Hokage's office, which is Dad's second home — Mom's cooking, Hima's laughter and even the grumpy look on Grandpa's face!
But don't worry, I'm holding up just fine. The school food is okay after a while but I really miss Ichiraku's ramen! Maybe you could send me some, Mom?
And Mom, I'm trying to follow the rules here, but some of them are so weird. There's a rule about not going into the Forbidden Forest - it's tempting, but I'm behaving, don't worry.
Entirely unrelated, but we saw a centaur last week. It was amazing. Hima, you would love the creatures here!
I've been training hard and trying to apply everything you've taught me, Dad.
I tried to cook ramen the other day, Auntie. Let's just say, it didn't go very well and I ended up appreciating your cooking a lot more!
Please don't strain yourself too much, Grandpa. Everybody's telling you, I'm sure, but well…
I'll try to write more often and keep you all updated. I miss you all a lot. Can't wait to come home and have a big, loud, family dinner!
Love,
Boruto
…
Dear Uncles,
I hope you're all doing great. Hogwarts is pretty fun, and pretty safe too, so I'm using the time off to train.
Uncle, I remember what you told me about not being like Uncle, so I have decided to actually make a few friends. I've met some cool people here.
And Uncle, I remember what you told me about not being like Uncle, so I make sure to actually read a book, every once in a while. They have some fun animated ones, too.
And speaking of books… I'm kinda worried about Nacchan. He's been kinda reclusive, but I guess he's nervous about the competition.
Oh yeah, I forgot to mention. He and Sarada joined some wizard tournament, I'm sure it's going to be great fun.
Besides, I know Sarada. If it turns out to be dangerous, she will make sure he's safe. Or we will, in any case.
Write back when you can!
Boruto
Hey Mom, Hey Dad,
I hope you're doing great.
Everything is great here, don't worry about me. I'm still at the magic school, yes.
But enough about me. I want to know more about how things are going back home. Are you still considering running for office, Dad? I'm curious to know what your campaign strategy would be this time, especially since things are a bit different compared to the last election.
Do you think your approach to the environmental issues will resonate with the voters this time?
And Mom, I wanted to know about your situation as well. I hope things are peaceful on your end. Last time we spoke, you mentioned your efforts to mediate between the rival families.
That must be quite a balancing act. I trust your negotiations are going smoothly? I can't imagine how tricky that must be, especially given the tension between the Kurosawa and the Tanaka recently.
I hope both of you are taking care of yourselves. Remember, just because I'm far away doesn't mean you can work yourselves into the ground!
And don't worry about me, I'm doing fine and the magic school is really interesting.
Take care!
Love,
Nacchan
Gaijin-kun
Namikaze-Uzumaki Naruto, also called Nacchan by his parents and a few friends, — most of them, child-soldiers turned wizards for a year — was a gentle soul.
Most of his temperament, he took from his father. Nearly shy in spite of his gifts, and somewhat self-effacing. He spoke softly and didn't want to make waves.
The anger, which was most of what the one dubbed Gama had seen from him, was something he got from his mother, of course.
And Nacchan had his pride, even though at times it looked like nothing but bitter stubbornness.
Comparing him to a cornered animal, lashing out in every direction was not the gentlest of comparisons. It had come from Uzumaki Sakura, so this sort of thing was expected.
It wasn't a wrong comparison.
He was a gentle soul, however.
Nacchan's Year of Darkness
Nacchan slept terribly over the days leading to the task.
He didn't particularly care for Tuesdays, but this one promised to be the worst in a while. Had Sarada not promised to make sure he would be safe, he would probably have left entirely.
He dragged his feet through the marble staircase, looking waxy in the castle's candlelight, until he reached the Great Hall.
"Harry Potter!" Boruto exclaimed.
Nacchan turned around, almost expecting another weird scene, like these teenagers throwing magical curses at each other, or more ghosts, perhaps. Or hundreds of great owls flying here to deliver letters, in a cacophony of sound and smells.
It wasn't, it was just the only competitor scrawnier than he was, Harry Potter.
The younger teen stared at him, somewhat cautiously. "Hello." He said. Sarada eyed him suspiciously.
Boruto greeted Hermione, too. Sarada eyed her suspiciously.
"Boruto, Mitsuki." Harry said. "…Sarada, Naruto."
"Hey." Nacchan muttered.
Harry Potter steeled himself, as though he were about to say something he might regret. "The first task. It's dragons."
Nacchan nodded. "…Yeah, I…"
Hermione stared at them anxiously.
"Oh." Nacchan realized why. She had told Boruto, without her friend knowing. "…For real? Thanks for telling us, then."
Hermione released her breath.
"It's… Nothing." Harry said, pretty quietly. "They have six of them, and we have to—"
"We get it." Sarada nodded. "But thank you."
"It's just… fair." Harry replied, looking a bit worried. "It's all so… dangerous."
Nacchan's stomach twisted again.
…
"Have you looked into magical artifacts, Naruto-chan?" Mitsuki asked Nacchan.
Nacchan glanced up from the pile of books he was trying to find a solution to his dragon predicament in. He knew he must have looked a little bit tired, likely.
Nacchan shook his head. "…I don't think I can use most of them — Do you remember last time…?"
Mitsuki nodded. "I do remember about the Pendulum of Ethereal Translocation, yes. But you are alive, are you not?"
Nacchan grumbled in answer. "…For now."
Mitsuki smiled. "Why not give mail-order another chance?"
…
The day of the Task came and the six contestants were led away from the castle, to an enclosure at the edge of the forest.
Boruto bade him good luck, as though he truly had no sense of what danger meant. Fucking ninja, really.
The forest was named Forbidden, of course.
Delacour Fleur… Fleur Delacour was sitting in a corner on a stool. She didn't look quite so composed anymore. She was the one Nacchan noticed first, but the others didn't look much better.
Besides Sarada, who seemed decidedly neutral about the entire affair. There was a dangerous glint in her eyes as she brooded, though. Everyone else seemed to steer away from her.
Harry sat, jaws clenched, looking as pale as Nacchan felt.
He sat down, and did his best to stop the trembling in his leg — if he began to cramp before the contest—
"Don't worry." Sarada muttered in Japanese. "I will protect you. A ninja protects their friends."
Nacchan blinked. And he felt a surprising warmth in his stomach. She… actually considered him a friend, this dark little killer of men…? That was… something.
"Ah." He said, quite dumbly. "…Thank you, Sarada."
He wished he didn't hear her mutter "no matter the cost" under her breath, however.
…
The six of them drew figurines. Nacchan saw Bagman wince a bit when he drew his own, but at this point, he was so close to hysteria that it had seemed more funny than anything.
"You have each pulled out the dragon you will face." Bagman said. "And the numbers refer to the order in which you are to take on the dragons, do you see?"
Cedric Diggory went first.
Nacchan watched him go through the tent's flap, feeling as though this were the last time he was going to see him. His mouth felt dry.
He heard the roar of the crowd.
He heard Bagman's dumb enthusiasm.
"Ooooh, a narrow miss there!"
Nacchan could almost see it.
"He's taking risks, that one!"
More cheers. A roar.
"How clever — and another miss! Oh. Oh, no."
Then, silence. Nacchan knew that something had gone wrong when the gasps and cheers of the crowd became screaming instead.
A few minutes laters, Bagman came into the tent, and announced that they would have to clean Cedric Diggory's broken body from the arena's floor.
Hogwarts had one less contestant.
"I can't fucking believe it." Nacchan muttered to himself.
He was this close to the edge.
"Look into my eyes." Sarada ordered.
Nacchan did and she leaned in, much too close.
"For fuck's sake no! — You're like fourteen—"
"Not this." She hissed. "Allow my illusion."
"What?"
"Your talisman is preventing my Sharingan from working. Let me through, it's going to help you."
"I don't know how!"
They fumbled some more, but didn't manage.
"…No matter." Sarada shook her head. "It should be fine, anyway."
"Wha—"
"Trust yourself, Nacchan." She stared deep into his eyes. "And if not..."
"...What then?"
Bagman called for the next contestant to go into the arena. Nacchan didn't listen quite so closely this time, knowing it could only make things worse. He focused on his plan.
"Excuse me… Namikaze… Naruto." A voice called out to him.
He shook his head, pulled himself out of his head. It was Fleur Delacour. "…What is it?" He asked.
She looked pale, almost waxy. "I… wanted to apologize for last time. In case…"
Nacchan blinked. "In case…"
"Well, you know." She said. "If you were to actually…"
Nacchan understood right away. "If I died, you mean?" He asked flatly.
"…Well, yes."
"Why… Thank you for your concern." He snapped.
Sarada intervened. "You can go, Delacour. Your classmate is done. You're facing Diggory's dragon, right? I'm sure they're done removing his body from its tail now."
Fleur frowned. Whatever she was about to say was cut off by Bagman, who called her turn. She was trembling when she stood up.
She gave Nacchan a last glance, and then went out of the tent.
The same fucking cheering began.
"Oh I'm not sure that was wise!" Bagman shouted, but it sounded a bit forced, now.
No wonder.
"Oh, nearly! Careful now! Good lord, I thought she'd had it then!"
And a few long minutes later, Nacchan heard relieved clapping. Fleur had managed, then.
"And here comes Ms. Uchiha!" Bagman cried, announcing Sarada's turn.
Nacchan felt his anxiety spike for her, but she just gave him a brief smile.
Nacchan was biting his nails when she stepped out.
He heard the crowd's gleeful claps and he felt a burst of hatred toward them. Why were they cheering on this horrible thing…? Was this just how people truly were everywhere…?
Gathering for the bloodbath…?
It was over almost as soon as it started, and Nacchan thought he had misheard it.
"One of the youngest contestants, but do not underestimate her!" Bagman cheered. "She — Oh, sweet Merlin, that's bad. Oh, Merlin! That's enough, this dragon has children—"
There was no cheering, this time.
"That's bad — That's really bad…" Bagman continued to repeat. "Please… We will do the marks later, please. We need to… someone needs to clean this mess—"
Nacchan's heart was pumping fast, still.
The crowd clapped, it was sparse and diffuse… hesitant.
He breathed out, and he knew that Sarada had won.
Likely in a terrible manner.
Harry would come last. It was going to be Nacchan's turn any time, now.
And it came soon enough.
There was still thick blood caking parts of the arena, in spite of the cleaning efforts.
Nacchan stepped out of the tent, feeling as though he were in a fever dream. Nothing felt really real, and he forced himself to walk past the trees when he heard the whistle blow.
There were hundreds of faces looking down on him from the stands, with these placid expressions that, to him at least, showed clear disregard for his life.
And there was a monstrous, scaly, evil fucking dragon… glaring at him with yellowed eyes.
Nacchan kept a tight hold on his bladder.
The crowd buzzed, hummed, cheered, jeered, their faces seemed to blur together, almost as though the world were spinning…
Nacchan took a deep breath. Without wasting any time, he pulled a little artifact out.
"Chōsenritsu Kyōshin." He muttered to himself, hoping it would actually work.
Nacchan had heard that high-pitched noises were an effective way to discourage animals from coming too close.
It was fascinating on the paper, because that meant animals with sensitive hearing like dogs or bats, found these sounds uncomfortable, almost unbearable.
In reality, it mostly meant that some of his older neighbors in Tokyo mis-calibrated their devices, and their hearing, which had gone worse with age… simply didn't allow them to notice their little devices were emitting these shrill sounds all day long.
Nacchan had tried to convince them of the truth of the matter, of course, that yes, he did hear the device…
But as Nacchan privately believed, the only truly immovable force in the universe was an older person convinced they knew better.
In any case. Dragons… had sensitive hearing.
So, by using a device — which didn't fare so well, near magic — or an artifact like the Chōsenritsu Kyōshin, which he had found in an old mail-order grimoire…
One could keep unwanted animals at a safe distance without harming them. It was a non-invasive solution that could be really helpful in situations like hiking or camping.
Or, again… facing dragons.
That was what he had thought.
Right now, Nacchan wasn't sure if his fear had interfered with his control, or if the talisman that allowed him to do magic was simply too dangerous, being made by the older Sakura and all…
But the dragon let out a terrible sound.
Blood was pouring out of its ears as it thrashed around blindly, eyes closed.
Nacchan hesitated.
The fear in his belly was an almost tangible thing. But that was his main plan… and the dragon was doing its best not to thrash, because of its eggs.
Nacchan trembled…
And rushed in, sprinting; panting. The crowd howled as he did so. It was a pretty good sprint, he would later recognize, the sort of thing that you either saw at the Olympic games, or when trying to outrun a dangerous animal in the wilderness.
Nacchan seized the eggs and ran away from the dragon, quite blindly.
Then, as though he had remembered why he was here at all, he held them up in the air, presenting them to the jury, waiting for their reaction.
"What is he doing — Get out of here first!" Bagman shouted.
Nacchan blinked. He looked around.
And then he realized that he had gone the wrong way entirely. The exit was the other way. And there was an angry dragon in between himself and it.
"Shit." Nacchan cursed.
If he tried to roll the eggs toward the creature, would it still be considered a win…?
…Did he even need to win to fulfill this Triwizard contract…? What did he even stand to lose—
The great beast rose.
'I'm going to die I'm going to die I'm going to die'
For this stupidity…?
It was so unfair. Until recently, he had always tried to play it by the book.
He was just a teenager, for whoever's sake. A kid who held open doors, who helped carry groceries, who listened when no one else seemingly wanted to.
And that was his reward?
A ticket to this life-and-death gladiator show where a dragon was about to chew him like the world's dumbest bone?
Because he had been naive enough to believe it was just a simple friendly contest and the three ninja were just too fucked up to even realize that you were not supposed to risk your life to get promoted, and that contests were not a life-or-death matter?
A relentless thudding drum drowned out the hope.
Any moment could be his last, and he couldn't shake off the feeling that he was on a one-way trip to oblivion.
And he didn't even have any nice last words to say.
That was it…?
That was it?!
Something within him snapped.
Nacchan remembered some of the Lightning-Emperor's words. Something that he had said, as casually as ever, seemingly without thinking about them.
"A powerless man is especially scary, and I would know. Wishes are rarely granted, Nacchan." He had said, the ghost of an amused smile pulling on his lips.
The dragon moved; its mouth opened wide.
Guided by instincts he didn't even know he had, Nacchan ran away from the great flame, feeling its heat seep into his skin, and sweat ran down the back of his neck.
He almost tripped, right after.
'Nobody's coming.' He thought, heart thrumming.
His breath came out, and it was a ragged, heavy thing.
'Come on.' He thought to himself, almost hissing. 'Come on!'
"That's why you have to make them come true yourself."
Unsure why he was thinking of that man's words at all… Nacchan threw himself away from the heavy tail, and noticed one of the judges standing up, wand in hand.
'No!'
He motioned for Dumbledore not to intervene yet. Maybe it was overconfidence. Maybe he was just as much of a barbarian as the people in the crowd were.
Heat rushed into his gut.
He was tired of relying upon others. Tired of being fate's plaything.
Tired of feeling powerless.
'No more.'
There were no spells he could use that would make a difference, and besides… there were not that many that could do much to a dragon that was likely deaf already.
Nacchan raised his wand, unsure what he was trying to do at all.
The Eye's magic answered, conjuring a gleaming light around his wand. That was strange, different.
And before he could do anything... something someone had slipped inside the dragon's stomach answered his wand.
The dragon exploded, splattering blood, entrails and all other sorts of gore upon the area in a dreadful shower.
Explosives. Nacchan knew this handiwork.
Sarada had managed to help him, then. When did she...? Before the task itself...? Nacchan blinked, trying to wipe the blood from his face.
The smell… Oh gods, the smell.
Nacchan vomited.
…
"This world is ridiculous." Sarada decided, as she and Nacchan were walking back toward the castle.
Nacchan agreed with her, for once. He just nodded somberly. "What happened to Diggory is a tragedy—"
"No, I don't mean him." Sarada shook her head. "Although it is tragic. But dying in a competition to advance your station is something that you should get used to, Nacchan. That's how the world works."
Nacchan stared at her blankly.
"…Then what are you angry about?"
"How did we get the lowest scores?" Sarada asked, entirely bemused. "We were the only ones to kill our dragons!"
"…Maybe that's the problem." Nacchan said slowly.
"Don't be ridiculous. We even got the eggs."
…
"Yeah, it's definitely because you killed the dragon." Boruto said, quite dryly.
Sarada glared at him. "And what would you know of it?" She asked coldly. "I bet you never even killed any."
It was true. Boruto shrugged and pointed at Harry.
"A teacher told me." Harry said, looking very much like a deer in headlights.
…
The judges for the task, most of them teachers from the three magical schools, were gathered.
It was now the turn for the candidates from Mahoutokoro School of Magic, Mr. Namikaze and Ms. Uchiha. D umbledore spoke:
"Ladies and Gentlemen, let us first congratulate Mr. Namikaze and Ms. Uchiha for… successfully killing their dragons during his task, showing great bravery, intelligence, and magical skill. Indeed, they have shown us today the depths of determination a wizard and witch might plumb in order to survive."
Whispers spread like wildfire through the small crowd, rising in pitch and volume. Madame Maxime looked on the verge of combustion, her face flushed.
Dumbledore continued, a hint of dryness creeping into his voice.
"Yes, yes… Well done indeed." The murmurs faded to a hush. His gaze swept the room, his next words echoing clearly in the silence. "HOWEVER…"
The others fell silent.
"I must remind everyone." Dumbledore said, his voice dry and flat. "That Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry does not endorse, encourage, or support the killing of magical creatures. Mr. Namikaze and Ms. Uchiha's actions, while part of the task, do not absolve them of their responsibility towards the sanctity of life."
Next came the scoring.
Mu, with a stern face, gave Ms. Uchiha a three, and Mr. Namikaze a four. Honor came first.
Dumbledore, aligning closely with Mu's assessment, marked them similarly.
Madame Maxime, her displeasure evident, gave them even lesser scores.
…
"That's nepotism." Sarada spat.
Harry frowned.
"Our teacher tells us nothing in comparison, it's true." Boruto admitted.
"We're likely not the only ones." Mitsuki said, glancing at Dumbledore. "I don't think this Diggory clansman was warned about the dragons either."
Harry hissed.
"Oh." Mitsuki blinked. "You speak the snake-tongue."
Harry blinked, too. "…What?"
"It is relatively unimportant." Mitsuki waved off. "You should practice your spells, Naruto-chan."
"…I can barely use magic." Nacchan grumbled.
"Oh, that is true. Perhaps you should try again now…?"
"I just told you—"
Mitsuki leaned forward, smiling. "That was before. Maybe you have magically become better at it since then."
Nacchan sighed. "...Whatever."
"Good." Mitsuki nodded, and his eyes seemed to be gleaming. "The Eye is quite powerful, after all. It would be a shame not to try again."
…
The mood was particularly gloomy in the castle, and even Dumbledore seemed tame.
"Yes, Mitsuki." Nacchan repeated. "It is about the dead student. What else?"
The surviving champions had been given golden eggs that supposedly held a clue.
Sarada opened hers first, and when it let out a high-pitched scream, instinct kicked in. She threw it down and stomped upon it. Repeatedly.
"What did you do that for?!" Hermione cried out, nearing apoplexy. "You just destroyed—"
"I don't trust information given to us by examiners." Sarada spat.
"But that's—"
"…She has a good reason for that." Boruto muttered, putting a hand on her shoulder.
"But—" Hermione tried, even more nervously.
Nacchan wisely kept quiet. He remembered the Chūnin exams a bit too well and felt it wasn't a good time to speak of it.
It never was.
…
"Why did he call you a mudblood?" Sarada asked Hermione, who was glaring at a pale-faced blond teenager's retreating back.
"And why did it sound like an insult?" Mitsuki asked, nonplussed. "I know plenty of people who don't bleed red blood."
"…Uncle doesn't bleed lightning, Mitsuki." Boruto said patiently.
"I see. I mean others, then."
Harry's wand was still out, and he looked as furious as either of the shinobi (and Nacchan) had ever seen him.
Hermione did not answer. There was a metaphorical storm above her head.
"Because he's a right git, that one." A red-haired teenager said, angrily.
Sarada stared at him. "…Who are you?"
Weasley Ronald—… Ronald Weasley nearly growled. "I'm Harry's best friend!"
"Isn't that Hermione?" Mitsuki asked. "We never saw you before. Are you from his previous school?"
Ronald Weasley turned nearly as red as his hair. He crossed his arms. "Harry and I had a little fight, but it's all over now."
Sarada frowned. "Fascinating." She said, sounding as though she truly did not mean it. "What does 'mudblood' mean, then?"
"Merlin's beard. Don't say it out loud!" Ronald gasped. "It's a really foul name for someone who has non-magic parents!"
Sarada understood, then. "Oh." She said.
Boruto looked offended on Hermione's behalf, too. Mitsuki seemed… very neutral. As always.
"Aren't we all mudbloods, then?" He asked, and Boruto elbowed him.
Sarada thought about it. The word, not Mitsuki's question.
She didn't particularly like — it was closer to tolerating — Boruto's unofficial girlfriend, but she was likely precious to him. Even though both of them denied the whole thing.
…
Later that night, Draco Malfoy woke up with something pressed against his chest.
Twin red lights shone in the dark.
He tried to move, to scream, but found that he couldn't.
He heard a voice, but to his ears it sounded so distorted that he could not even figure whether or not he had heard it before.
"Draco Malfoy, right?" The voice asked, and Draco thought it was likely a girl. "Try to scream and see what happens."
"What do you want?" Draco managed to squeak, and had the distinct impression that he was being allowed to talk.
His eyes drifted to the right, glaring at his wand as though this could summon it.
"Look at me. Draco." The voice said softly.
"I won't."
A sudden slap brought tears to his eyes.
"Take a good look at my eyes."
"No…"
"Look at my eyes." She said. "Good dog."
"What do you want…?" Draco asked fearfully.
"Think."
Draco Malfoy swallowed thickly. "…I have no more money until Father gives me my allowance—"
"I don't want your wizard gold." Then, hissing. "What — Don't remove your robes, you imbecile!"
"...What do you want then?"
Her answer was as soft as a velvet knife.
"Nothing you won't be willing to give."
…
"There's something wrong with him." Harry muttered, glancing at Malfoy. "He doesn't say… anything to us."
And it was true: he seemed afraid of his shadow, almost.
Hermione shook his head, a relieved smile upon her face. He had been the source of a lot of frustration, she could admit to herself privately.
"I guess everyone can mature, after all." She smiled kindly.
Sarada raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything.
Mitsuki had offered to help, of course, but she wasn't entirely sure whether or not having his snakes eat someone within the castle's boundaries was considered a bad move or not… yet.
So he she had taken it upon herself to do the job. Never expecting a reward, of course.
Then again, Sakura had told her that good deeds often went unpunished.
…
Days later
"Nacchan seems a bit different, doesn't he…?" Boruto asked Mitsuki.
"I think he's still undergoing puberty." Mitsuki nodded. "Father warned me about it and the weird impulses that come with it."
"…What do you mean, exactly?" Boruto asked, already afraid of the answer.
"Father razed his first village at around that age, sixteen or seventeen, I think."
Boruto only stared.
"He says that to him, this area of Earth country still smells of smoke, waste and fatty pork."
"…Okay, moving on, then." Boruto muttered. "I meant that he seems very busy."
"Oh." Mitsuki nodded. "It tends to happen, too. When Father was younger, he said he went through a phase like this, too. He realized that everyone was secretly manipulating him and that the only way he could achieve his ambitions would be to make himself the man he knew he could become, by carving his own individualistic path. Then he delved into experimental research and jutsu creation."
"…And you think that's what Nacchan's going through?" Boruto asked slowly.
"Perhaps." Mitsuki nodded. "Did you notice that Naruto-chan had a rune painted upon his skin?"
"No."
"No you didn't notice, or no he doesn't have one—"
"I didn't notice."
"Well, it's on his navel." Mitsuki shrugged. "I noticed when I had him practice swimming."
"You did what?"
"He's a poor swimmer, and says that there's not much of a reason to swim in Tokyo." Mitsuki stated. "Which is a ridiculous argument, considering we're not in Tokyo."
Harry gave them both a strange look.
"…What was that about everyone manipulating you…?" He asked tentatively. And sounded a bit interested, too.
"It's nothing." Boruto shook his head. "My Uncle told me something similar, in any case. Most people go through such a phase, some even take on multiple lovers, apparently."
"Not that." Harry shook his head. "I'm more interested in—"
Boruto laughed. "Oh, Harry. This is a very safe world. I don't think you're going to need to do any of that, really."
Nacchan continued his training with Boruto.
He also trained on his own, now. With what was coming, it was likely going to be needed.
That was what he thought, at least. He knew that Boruto, at least, seemed a bit concerned. Although that was likely because he had asked him to recharge the Eye twice in the same week.
"What is it that you're doing, exactly…?"
Nacchan wasn't entirely sure. Surviving, mostly.
Still, Boruto and Mitsuki were taking their own training just as seriously as he did. Nacchan often saw the two training, sparring together.
They had told him he wasn't quite ready for that yet, which was why he was trying to cross this particular gap.
Sweat was trickling down Nacchan's back as he finally came to a stop. His breath was ragged, and he was tired. Nacchan dragged himself closer to the edge of the lake, and splashed some water on his face.
It helped him cool off his mind.
He stood there by the shore of the lake. Nacchan was doing a lot of that, just staring at the lake's depths as though it held the answers to his questions.
Boruto was a bit concerned about him, and he did his best to try and pull him away from his relentless self-improvement quest.
Also, to pull him out of the Hogwarts library, in which he had unofficially taken residence.
His alarm clock sounded.
It was time for spell practice, again, then—
"Naruto Namikaze."
Nacchan turned around.
A long blue dress, and ash-blonde hair. Pale lips and bright blue eyes. Beautiful as always, and Nacchan scowled.
Her temper flared right away, too.
"Do not give me that look." Fleur snapped, and Nacchan continued to scowl.
"And why not…?" He asked, equally displeased. "I don't think there's much I want to say to you."
She continued to glare at him. He said nothing.
"I can't fucking believe you." Fleur said, huffing. "To think I came here to…"
Nacchan looked away, uninterested. She turned to leave. "I'm leaving." She announced.
He gave her a lazy wave. With a growl, she actually left.
Nacchan didn't care much. He had other things to do.
…
"What are you ordering, with all these owls?" Sarada asked Nacchan. "And how do you even pay for it…?"
"I still have some leftover tyrant gold. Wizards love it."
…
"Uh oh." Boruto muttered to Mitsuki.
A very familiar French witch was striding toward their table. There were many eyes on her. Sarada rolled hers.
Fleur Delacour stood in front of the table, imperiously.
"I'll let you take me to Yule Ball, so that we're even." Fleur told Nacchan.
Nacchan barely glanced at her.
Moments of silence passed.
"I don't even know what you're talking about."
"We are having a ball." She said. "All of the champions need a partner."
"Okay. So?"
"So you're coming with me." She stated, as though he were the dumbest guy in the castle.
"…Is that your way of apologizing?"
"What of it?" She asked defiantly, as though this was an honor.
Nacchan sighed. He turned toward Sarada, whom he knew would not make a big deal out of it.
"Do you have a partner?" He asked, ignoring Fleur's outraged look.
"I didn't intend to go." She stated. Then, glancing at Fleur's face: "Are you inviting me, then?"
"I guess so."
"Sure." She nodded.
Fleur Delacour left angrily again. Nacchan went back to his books.
Ronald Weasley was stammering, face crimson.
…
Nacchan grinned as he finally managed to produce a decently-sized fireball.
It had seemed so… impossible to do so, back then. He had focused on theory work, for the day he would finally be able to predictably use magic.
And now it seemed he could. In a few ways, at least.
Nacchan laughed, high and free.
…
"I think your friend might be a dark wizard." Hermione hissed to Boruto.
Boruto blinked. "A what…?"
"Evil." She whispered. "It all checks out — Obsession with power — A fan club — Constantly tired because he keeps on sneaking into the library at night — Muttering to himself and—"
"What?" Boruto shook his head. "No way, that's just Nacchan. He's about as evil as Sarada is."
"…The girl who always palms a knife?"
"You noticed?" Boruto asked, sounding entirely too surprised.
"She was threatening someone just yesterday."
"She's just horsing around." Boruto tried to wave off. He'd have to talk to her. "…Does Nacchan really have a fan club?"
Hermione ignored the question. "He was reading Secrets of the Dark Arts yesterday." She pointed out.
Nacchan glanced up for a quick moment. "Only to defend myself from them. You have a class named exactly that, don't you?"
"Yes, but…"
"It has nothing to do with the thrill of disobedience as you run your fingers over the dusty, aged spines of books in the restricted section, wondering if that's a pair of watchful eyes you feel upon your back." Mitsuki said. "Does it?"
"Nothing at all." Nacchan smiled cryptically.
Meanwhile, half-hidden by the table, he was casting a spell under his breath.
"Obscurum." He whispered, wishing Hogwarts' library had more spells that were not in latin. A small patch of darkness appeared, eliciting gasps from Hermione.
"Nacchan, no dark magic!" Boruto hissed. "You can't just—"
"You just said he wasn't a dark wizard!" Hermione said, quite shrilly. "He just conjured darkness."
"He's not." Boruto denied vehemently. "He just uses dark magic, sometimes. I guess."
A raven cawed loudly, appearing from the darkness. It landed on Nacchan's shoulder, casting a critical eye over the library.
"You see?!"
…
"…You're still holding it like a kunai." Boruto said, adjusting Sarada's grip on her wand.
"…What's wrong with that?"
"Well, you're not supposed to throw it, for one."
…
"Professor Snape." Nacchan began, catching the man's attention as he was leaving his potions classroom. Snape paused, his gaze as icy as ever. "I have… questions. About the Dark Arts."
His expression hardened. "And what makes you think I would be the appropriate person to approach about such matters?" He drawled out, every word dripping condescension. "You are not even a student of mine, for none would be so foolish as to ask."
"Well…" Nacchan glanced at him from head to toe. Black hair. Black eyes. Black robes. Black shoes. "Your… reputation."
Snape's eyes narrowed, and after what felt like a century of silence, he spoke. He looked as though he wanted nothing more than to get rid of Nacchan.
"Dark magic." He began, cold as a distant star in the night sky. "Is a path from which there's no return. I suggest you steer clear of it."
"I didn't even ask my question—"
Snape snapped.
"Out!"
…
Mitsuki studied the surrounding faces in the Great Hall, their laughter and chatter foreign to him.
Mostly because his translator was off.
His eyes fell on a crying house-elf in a corner. Mitsuki observed him for a little while...
Somewhat stiffly, Mitsuki mimicked the elf's facial expression, and tears slid down his face.
"I am… sad?" He declared in a monotone voice, causing a spoon to drop somewhere in the room.
An older girl gasped. "Oh no, you poor thing—"
She embraced him, sating his unfortunate need for affection, and Mitsuki nodded to himself. He was getting better at this.
…
The moon hung low in the sky, casting long, mysterious shadows over the Forbidden Forest.
Fleur Delacour, on her way to the Beauxbâtons carriage where she was supposed to meet a friend, found herself on the fringes of the woods.
The sounds of the night were usually haunting here, but what truly stopped her in her tracks was a low incantation.
From her hidden spot behind a tree, she saw him - Namikaze Naruto, standing alone, a dark book in one hand, his wand in the other.
At this hour, too…?
He was casting a spell, one that Fleur couldn't identify.
It soared over water, an eerie missile of purple light. Then again, and again.
The sight was simultaneously frightening and mesmerizing.
Her rival, cloaked in moonlight and shadows, practicing what was likely forbidden magic, stirred an unfamiliar feeling within her.
She resolved to practice harder.
…
Sarada's frustration was becoming increasingly apparent.
Boruto first noticed when she bent a fork accidentally.
Then again, once she shattered a glass she was about to drink from.
It made her a talking point among students. The most volatile of champions.
…It reminded Boruto of home, too. Because the Chūnin Exams had been more of the same: scared contestants.
Otherwise, the evening of the Yule Ball was pretty uneventful, aside from that French girl who was glaring at Nacchan, quite venomously.
Boruto and Mitsuki sneaked some pastries out for them, and they spent a pretty fun evening playing cards, once Nacchan and Sarada extirpated themselves from the stuffy ceremony.
What did they care about a party, really...?
…
The day of the Second Task arrived.
They didn't end up figuring out the clue, this time.
But from what the judges were saying, Nacchan and Sarada could guess at the answer.
Something precious had been taken from them, apparently. By creatures from the lake. But his necklace was still around his neck, invisible to all, nearly impossible to remove.
Nacchan wasn't entirely sure what this was all about. But he felt more confident than he had been before.
He warmed up, ignoring the creeping cold of the chilly air. Sarada peered into the lake's black depths, looking tense.
"I hate water." She reminded Nacchan, as though he needed it. "And I think someone abducted Boruto and Mitsuki, too."
"What?!" Nacchan's voice rose quickly.
Sarada shook her head. "It's not as bad as it seems, Mitsuki thought-told me they were fine, just kidnapped."
"What?!"
One of the judges called out to them. "If everyone is ready to start, the Second Task will begin on my whistle." He said. "You will have exactly an hour to find what has been taken from you."
The whistle blew.
Nacchan clutched the Amulet of Water Breathing he had mail-ordered for both himself and Sarada. It mostly made him think of Dungeons and Dragons, but it seemed to work — he had tested in his bathroom.
Sarada palmed a retractable blade in her hand.
Fleur Delacour gave them a defiant look, and she sent a silencing spell at him.
Something that would prevent him from casting verbal spells. Which didn't matter much, because Sakura's talisman prevented it from taking hold. A decent attempt at sabotage, otherwise.
She dove gracefully in the murky waters.
Nacchan only shrugged. If she thought she needed to play it like that, that was on her. Harry gave them a vague wave and ate some rough looking plant, before growing gills in a very grotesque display.
The other french contestant did something, but neither of the others truly minded him anyway.
Nacchan dove into the waters, and Sarada finally did the same, cursing pretty creatively.
He pulled out the goofy swimming goggles he had gotten from a non-magical mail-order shop, and dove deeper, towards these lake-creature's song into the distance.
The water was freezing cold, but considering Mitsuki had made him plunge into the lake thrice a week, it was not much of a surprise, really. It got worse as he went deeper, but nothing that would cause any lasting trouble.
He soared over and through foggy landscapes, careful not to hit his head on the rocks. Or to get caught in the black weeds that seemed to grow ever more annoying as he went.
This might well be a race, so Nacchan hurried on, Sarada hot on his trail. Her eyes occasionally flashed red, but she didn't say anything about the direction toward which he was heading, which he took as a good sign.
Nacchan met the first lake creatures after that.
They were ugly, angry things. And they gathered around him, too. Quite menacingly, too.
Nacchan made his wand flare, quite dramatically.
They let him pass, and soon Nacchan saw strange houses. Well, crude stone dwellings, but they were houses.
The merpeople had gray skin and hair that looked like algae. Their yellow eyes leered at Nacchan as he swam past them; and they held spears in their hands.
More of the dwellings, and what was likely the town center. The merpeople were talking about them, too.
There were more of the creatures in front of the five bound humans that half-floated, bound to a stone.
Nacchan's gut churned with ice, something colder than even the lake's depths.
They had drowned them. These fucking barbarian wizards had drowned them.
Boruto. Mitsuki. A little girl that looked like Fleur Delacour. The redhead. Another person.
Nacchan drew closer, and something clear and cold settled in his heart.
He would kill these creatures for what they had done. Then he would kill the people responsible for this horrible show—
Mitsuki opened his eyes and waved at him.
Nacchan screamed and swallowed some water the wrong way.
'What the fuck?!'
Sarada arrived soon after. Mitsuki made a few hand seals, and his voice carried easily through the water.
"They gave us something to make us sleep and we never were in actual danger. Most poisons don't work on me." Mitsuki said, as though this were nothing but a pleasant day in the summer breeze. "They did on Boruto, though. Is the exam over now?"
Sarada glanced behind her, waiting for the other contestants to arrive. She shook her head, and Nacchan understood what she meant: "Not yet, no."
…
Mu-sensei looked pretty tired.
"While it is a competition." He began, angry, stern… and looking like he'd rather not have to deal with more of their shit. "Your actions were dishonorable and will reflect badly on Mahoutokoro as a whole. Once more."
He was rubbing the bridge of his nose, fatigue and frustration etching lines onto his usually unreadable face.
The room was filled with an uncomfortable silence as Sarada and Nacchan, both sitting rigidly under the weight of their teacher's gaze, listened.
Or pretended to listen, rather.
"We are here to learn and participate, not to disrupt and instigate unnecessary conflict." He continued.
"I thought it was to show off Mahoutokoro's power." Sarada said flatly.
"Also." He admitted. "But not like this!" He slammed a fist upon the table. "Explosives…? Explosives?! Are you Chinese Mumajin?!"
"There's nothing wrong with being Chinese or non-magical." Nacchan said blandly.
"You dare? Explosives—"
"They were low-powered explosives. No one was seriously hurt." Sarada contested. "And we let this Harry Potter go unharmed, as long as he let us go up first."
Mu-sensei looked ready to explode.
"Besides, we won." Sarada said. "Isn't that what matters?"
…
"We can't trust any of the fricking teachers!" Boruto growled. "They kidnapped us and put us to sleep. Mu-sensei, too!"
Mitsuki tilted his head. "Only the former, in my case."
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Whatever… — They tricked us."
Sarada nodded. "I am glad you finally understand, Boruto."
…
Sakura didn't seem to answer the latest of Sarada's letters, either.
Her mother did, however, and that made her feel a bit better. Her father's laconic letters, she still didn't know what to make of.
…
The Hogwarts infirmary was unusually quiet when Nacchan slipped in.
The only occupants were Fleur Delacour, seated on a bed with her leg propped up, looking frustrated… and that other French guy, who was sleeping.
Nacchan sighed and approached her.
Fleur glanced up, her blue eyes widening in fury at his presence. "You. What do you want?!" She asked, seizing her wand and pointing it at him. "Did you come to finish the job?"
"I came to apologize." Nacchan admitted, surprising even himself. "For sabotaging you during the competition."
It had been Sarada's idea, certainly, but he had helped with placing the tags down, telling himself it was only to make sure Sarada didn't actually kill anyone.
Fleur looked taken aback, and for a moment, she was silent. Nacchan couldn't read her expression, but he pressed on.
To her, his voice was as flat and uninflected as ever. The stark admission hung in the air, a contrast to the usual cryptic persona she thought he maintained at all times. It could only mean one thing.
"Are you here to ridicule me?" She asked, her words coming out strained and biting. "I did it first, in any case."
"No, I—…" Nacchan sighed in frustration. "Whatever. I said what I came to say, believe what you will."
With a stiff nod, he turned to leave, his figure slowly swallowed by the shadows of the corridor.
Frustration welled up within Fleur. She watched his retreating back, her grasp on her wand tightening.
…
"What's that?" Boruto asked, pointing at the small scroll Sarada kept on her private room's desk.
"I don't know for sure." Sarada shrugged. "But Sakura gave it to me when we first came."
Boruto slowly crawled away from it, and away from Sarada's couch.
"…What do you think it does?" He asked.
Sarada shrugged again. "Let's see."
Hopefully it wasn't anything like the triggered Kamui jutsu Sakura had implanted in Sarada's Sharingan (for safety).
She activated the scroll.
Pale lightning flashed. Boruto somersaulted, drawing his hidden sword.
He summoned Lightning too—
"Wow, jumpy much…?" Sarada asked, almost teasingly. In truth, it was more surprising that she hadn't been the one to react violently. Perhaps she just trusted the other Sakura.
Boruto didn't, not entirely.
A hulking shape rose.
"…Uncle?" Boruto asked in disbelief. "…What? Wait, what?"
The Emperor, Uzumaki Naruto, shook his head.
"That stasis thing felt damn weird — I'm just a low-powered clone. Something that won't draw too much attention. And I won't last for long at all."
"…What were you doing in that scroll?" Sarada asked.
"Waiting. As for now..." Naruto cracked his neck. "Depends. Can I peer into some of your memories, Boruto, Sarada? Nothing private, I assure you…"
…
Albus Dumbledore had faced many surprising situations in his life, but this encounter promised to surpass all previous ones.
In his office, a swirling vortex of energy had appeared, opening to reveal a figure. A man that was not entirely unfamiliar, because he looked very much like two of the Mahoutokoro students… and was also impossibly different.
Apparition was supposed to be impossible in Hogwarts.
His grandfatherly persona disappeared like snow under the bright morning sun.
Both his wand and Severus' were pointed at the imposing figure who had just appeared. His attire was regal, an intricate ensemble that combined traditional ninja attire with a ruler's robes. His long hair was tied back, and his eyes decidedly neutral.
"Good evening, Professors Dumbledore and Snape." He said; his words were cordial, but the raw power humming off of him spoke volumes.
Dumbledore blinked in astonishment. He quickly regained his composure, however, standing from his chair and extending his other hand toward a chair. "Good evening, Namikaze Naruto…?"
His wand didn't leave him, however.
"Close." Naruto smiled.
"Time travel?" Dumbledore guessed.
"Not only. But yes, also." Naruto admitted. "Also, please stop with the illusions you're weaving, the mind-probing. This is somewhat rude."
(Unlike the active compulsion that the four children carried, that made people less likely to question their presence, of course.)
"Apologies." Dumbledore said smoothly.
Naruto glanced around. "This sort of Earth, then. What's the date?"
"February of 1995." Dumbledore answered easily. Next to him, Snape began weaving a silent spell.
"…I can see what you're doing, you know." Naruto said, quite dryly. "Throw that jutsu and I'll answer in consequence."
Snape didn't bother answering.
"Well, let's get on with it." Naruto continued. "I did not come here merely for pleasantries, and you might have a… unique sort of view on these matters."
(Naruto noticed that there didn't seem to be any sort of kami presence. There were greater magical forces out there, still. Not the ones they were dealing with, though. Which had given Sakura the idea in the first place, likely. But he'd ask her when she came back from the last few worlds she and Yoisen were supposed to visit.)
"I am from an alternate universe, one in which I hold the title of Emperor. We are concerned with the safety and progression of many worlds, not just mine."
Dumbledore and Snape exchanged a glance.
"An integral part of maintaining this balance is the Council." Naruto continued, a hint of seriousness creeping into his voice. "A group of diverse and capable individuals who aid us in our efforts. They are of many backgrounds: guides, strategists, and warriors, each with their own unique strengths."
Snape looked even more skeptical, but Dumbledore appeared intrigued, leaning forward in his chair.
"Would you care enough to prove your claim, perhaps?" He asked softly.
"Yes. Let me finish — I am here to extend an invitation to both of you." Naruto declared.
A Light wizard and a Dark wizard, according to Boruto's knowledge, derived from Nacchan's words. Balanced.
And not evil, — mostly the older one — apparently, which always was a plus.
"The Council could benefit from your wisdom and abilities. Together, we can preserve and safeguard multiple realities. And your own, as well."
Snape, who had been about to let out a biting remark, paused.
Dumbledore's eyes were sharp, and his voice clear.
"I must admit… Emperor… That your proposition seems to be of a magnitude beyond our usual dealings." Dumbledore began, his voice echoing around the room. "A specific individual in our world, I fear, may soon be the source of grave danger. The future is, unfortunately, an unpredictable entity, even for the most skilled of wizards."
Naruto, who by now was used to people beating around the bush, continued to listen.
Pausing, Dumbledore looked at Naruto, his eyes gleaming in the light behind his half-moon spectacles.
"If we were to lend our… wisdom and experience, I suppose, to your Council, might we expect your assistance in turn when this man emerges from the shadows? When our world teeters on the edge of calamity, would you stand with us?"
…
"Uncle was here." Boruto announced.
Nacchan's head whipped around. "The Flash Despot? He was here?!"
"Stop calling him that." Boruto muttered.
"I enjoyed the Volt Viceroy one." Mitsuki piped in. "Although his power is absolute and I do not think that—"
"Mitsuki…" Boruto groaned. "But yes, he was here."
"What did he want?" Nacchan asked, wondering if he should expect anything on the scale of planetary destruction.
"Not much." Boruto shook his head. "He just peered into my soul and said he had some mysterious matters to take care of?"
"…And that's not worrying enough?" Nacchan asked, entirely dumbfounded.
"Not really." Boruto shrugged. "And besides, my dad trusts him too."
Mitsuki smiled. "The Emperor protects."
"Will you fucking stop?" Nacchan hissed. "He's not someone to be admired!"
Mitsuki frowned in confusion. "I thought you enjoyed rising to power through shady means, Naruto-chan."
Nacchan closed his eyes, trying not to snap at his friend.
"Ah, also he left something for you." Sarada said.
"…Me?" Nacchan asked, feeling the same trepidation well up. "What is it…? Slaves? My parents' heads? "
"No."
Boruto unsealed something. A pouch of small colorful cubes that looked edible, as well as a letter. He cleared his throat.
"Your training program is shit, Nacchan." He began to read. Nacchan groaned. Boruto continued. "So here's a better one that will get you in decent shape, in the shortest possible amount of time. Also, here are a few nutritional aids that will help with your undoubtedly even worse nutrition."
Nacchan stared at the pouch of cubes, which he was pretty sure was much bigger on the inside than the outside. "…I don't want his ninja steroids."
Boruto and Sarada exchanged a glance.
"He said you would say that..." Sarada began.
Mitsuki's eyes just held a knowing glimmer of admiration. "As always."
"...And that they're not steroids." Boruto finished.
"I don't care." Nacchan answered.
There were footsteps and a hush.
Nacchan closed his eyes, almost certain it was going to be the Emperor. Or Fleur Delacour, perhaps.
It wasn't.
"You sabotaged Thomas." Someone said, growling.
Nacchan turned around, slowly. He was facing some burly guy in the French school uniform. "…Who?"
"The Beauxbâtons champion." Boruto supplied. "Laveeny."
"Oh. Lavigne." Nacchan realized. "Yeah. It was a competition, not an honor duel."
Mitsuki nodded proudly.
The Beauxbâtons guy, on the other hand, didn't.
"In that case..." He said, rummaging through his pocket, pulling out a white glove.
He threw it a Nacchan's face, who just blinked. Then he raised a skeptical eyebrow. "…What was that supposed to do?"
…
A challenge had been thrown.
Students from Hogwarts, Beauxbâtons and Mahoutokoro stood in a makeshift dueling area, in the castle's courtyard.
Namikaze Naruto took his place opposite a burly Beauxbâtons student. His calm, unfazed demeanor was a stark contrast to his opponent's evident bravado.
Fleur watched from the sidelines, her heart pounding in her chest. Guillame was an asshole, certainly, but he was a strong wizard.
The duel began.
Namikaze Naruto moved with a ruthless grace and skill that she hadn't anticipated.
His spells were aggressive, but there was a simple sort of elegance to them.
And they were powerful. The air was thick with magic, and Fleur didn't think she had seen any wizard their age that could do what Nacchan had done.
With two spells, only.
A raven obscured Guillaume's vision, and a fireball slammed into him.
That must be the mark of a strong duelist. So sure was he of his victory that he hadn't even bothered with shields or variety. He had simply hammered Guillaume down. Someone muttered something about Dark Magic, but the raven spell apparently wasn't considered dark dark.
The duel ended with Namikaze Naruto as the victor, leaving a chilling silence in his wake.
His eyes met hers, his victory apparent in his dark, gleaming blue eyes.
The image of him, triumphant and fearsome, sent a thrill of fear through her.
"…He's evil." Hermione Granger muttered, to no one. "And I warned you."
"…Well, at least that guy didn't choose to duel Sarada." Boruto said.
Hermione winced, too.
…
"Is it me, or is Nacchan getting taller?" Boruto asked, frowning.
Sarada glanced at him. "He is."
…
Nacchan vomited from anxiety right after the duel, when no one was looking.
That had almost gone terribly wrong.
Two spells...?
What the hell had he been thinking...? He needed more. Many more.
…
It was late in the evening when Fleur entered the library. It was almost empty, save for a lone figure hunched over a book at a far-off table.
As she moved closer, she recognized Namikaze Naruto. He was engrossed in a book, its title sending a jolt through her: "Curses and Counter-curses: Forbidden Spells".
Namikaze Naruto looked up, a small, mocking smirk playing on his lips as he caught her staring.
His gaze was intense, filled with a mystery that drew her in and made her heart race.
As he returned his attention back to the dark book, she felt an inexplicable pull towards him, and his stupid bad-boy demeanor.
She pushed it down and left the library in a huff.
…
Nacchan frowned.
He had tried to smile at her. How could she always be so damn angry?
He let out a long sigh and continued to read.
…
"You want to turn yourself into an animal…?" Boruto asked Nacchan. "…Like Sarada?" He added, mirthfully.
Sarada punched his shoulder playfully. Harry, who was sitting nearby, winced when he heard something crack. Doubly so when Boruto popped his shoulder back in with an audible pop, almost absentmindedly.
"Yes." Nacchan nodded. "I don't know what the third task's going to be like, and I need every advantage I can get."
"…Should you really talk about this in front of me?" Harry asked quietly.
Nacchan shrugged. "Will you use it against me?"
"…Perhaps." Harry muttered, somewhat grumpily. "You did hold me back, last time."
"You can't turn yourself into an animal." Hermione began. "Becoming an animagus is a highly complicated process that requires you to—"
Nacchan and the shinobi moved a bit further away from Harry and Hermione.
"Good move." Sarada nodded gratefully. "I don't know how Boruto does it, frankly. Does she give you a definition about what being her boyfriend is like at any given point?"
Boruto rolled his eyes. "I told you already, it's not—"
"If I could apply a Transformation upon you, I would." Mitsuki said. "But I can't. So I won't."
Nacchan stared at him. He knew how Mitsuki worked, by now.
"…Okay. Is there anything you can do?"
"Guys, I don't think that—"
"Sure." Mitsuki nodded. "I can remove another layer of security on this…"
…
After two hours away, the dog trotted back toward them. He stared up at Mitsuki.
"Oh, you want to be reversed already?" Mitsuki asked him.
The dog barked. Mitsuki turned him back.
Nacchan growled. "What the fuck—"
"Oh." Mitsuki blinked. "You're still growling. Did you keep some strange urges from the transformation?"
"Fuck off, Mitsuki." Nacchan mumbled. "This was horrible."
"…Did anything happen?"
"Please leave me alone."
Nacchan left, muttering something about Beauxbâtons students and hot springs in the forest.
…
Nacchan snapped awake when he heard a knock at his window, and his wand found its way into his hand.
Did they finally come for him—
The next moment, he realized there was no one after him, and 'they' was just a vague concept his paranoia had latched onto.
After all, the contestant who was most likely to kill someone else was Sarada, and for better and for worse, she was his friend.
Still, he hadn't expected to see Mitsuki and Boruto to be seemingly hovering near his window.
"…Oh, for fuck's sake." Nacchan muttered. "Did you two steal brooms?"
"Brooms?" Mitsuki asked. "We can clean your room later, if you need help."
"Flying brooms."
"Ooooh." Boruto realized. "Yeah, that would have been much smarter than climbing here."
"…You climbed the tower?" Nacchan asked, feeling a headache throb behind his eyes.
"Yeah, it was pretty easy, though." Boruto shrugged. "We're just sticking to the wall."
"What do you want?" Nacchan asked, pushing a few more dubious magical tomes under his bed. "It's a bit late to go play cards, guys."
Sarada's voice cut in: "They want to see a bit more of this England country."
"…Sarada?" Nacchan asked. "Where are you, even…?" He asked, putting his head through the window. And there she was, back against the wall, waiting as though it were entirely normal to just lay down vertically on walls, dozens of meters above ground. "I… don't think this is very safe."
"We'll protect you." Sarada said.
"That's not the problem, I meant the wall — And I don't want to be protected."
Sarada glanced at him dubiously. "That's exactly what someone who needs protection would say — I'd know."
Nacchan pushed down on his irritation. "Even then."
"There are nice diagonal alleys." Mitsuki said. "I assume they have strange geometry, and I want to see them. In the morning we can continue our trip."
"Let's go let's go let's go let's go!" Boruto exclaimed. "We can steal brooms, if you prefer that, actually." He offered.
"…Did your uncles teach you how to control the options you offer… to get others to play with the cards you decide to deal them?" Nacchan asked.
"Huh?" Boruto asked, entirely surprised. "Why are you still talking about cards?"
"My Father did." Mitsuki smiled. "Boruto is strangely good at it, too."
Boruto blinked. "What do you mean?"
Nacchan sighed.
"—let's go let's go let's go let's go—"
lensdump
i C3Chl5 : The Other Terrible Three
i C3J0jr : Rivals