Years later
The Emperor's room was eerily silent.
In the stygian depths of the Obsidian Hall, where shadows writhed like living entities against the polished marble, an imposing figure sat enthroned. Here was the very embodiment of dark sovereignty.
The Emperor, ruler of a vast and secretive empire. His dominion was unchallenged, shrouded in the mysteries of the night; his presence, cloaked in darkness, and as palpable as the chill that permeated the air; his eyes, luminescent and piercing, surveying his court with an unnerving calm.
Surrounding him, the elite of the empire stood silent, their faces hidden behind masks that bore his emblem. A symbol feared across the realms for its merciless justice and incredible power. The atmosphere was charged, and each breath was a whisper against the eternal silence of the sanctum.
The Emperor's voice, when it came, was both a command and a prophecy, resonant through the cavernous chamber.
"The hour of the wolf is upon us, and a shadow looms at our door." He announced, with a tone as cold as the stone beneath him. "An upstart sent by the so-called Full Moon King seeks to challenge our might. Undoubtedly a barbarian from a land forgotten by time. His audacity will not go unpunished."
He paused, his gaze fixing on a young warrior standing apart from the others, a figure draped in the dark leathers of an imperial assassin, his stance both eager and reverent. "Hound." The Emperor intoned, his voice imbuing the name with a weighty significance. "You, who have risen through the ranks by merit of your blade and your unwavering loyalty, will answer this affront."
Hound stepped forward, his head bowed in deference. "Your will is my command, my lord."
"Find this invader, this puppet of the Full Moon King, in the city of Seijaku. Let your blade sing the song of oblivion and bring back his head as a token of his folly. Do not fail me, for the eyes of the Night are upon you, waiting. Watching."
Hound knelt briefly, touching his forehead to the cold ground in a gesture of fealty.
"Your wish is my command, my Lord."
With a swift motion, the Emperor dismissed him, turning his gaze back to the flickering shadows that played along the walls, his thoughts already moving like chess pieces across the dark board of his empire.
A new cycle began, and a new emperor rose. People being people, peace had no chance to settle at all.
At five in the morning, military patrols roamed the city.
There was no sound to the city yet, but that was a common thing. Aside from the automatons that clicked and clanked at irregular hours, Seijaku was a very solemn city.
It wasn't the quiet that you would find when two old friends gathered together, it wasn't the calm after the storm of squabbling relatives. No, it was the dreadful silence that fear brought along with itself.
Seijaku, known as the City of Whispers, was a place where the empire's stern shadows felt even heavier, more cloying. The city thrived on the remnants of near forgotten ages, a vast metropolis built from salvaged relics and repurposed materials.
The architecture was a patchwork of styles, with structures cobbled together from the bones of old world skyscrapers, rusted ship hulls, and the debris of crumbled temples, creating a labyrinthine network of homes and marketplaces that buzzed with the activity of those who lived on the fringe.
For the citizens of Seijaku were scavengers, traders, and artisans. The streets, particularly during the rare moments of sunlight, were said to have been alive with barter and trade, where anything from water purifiers to ancient artifacts could be exchanged for food, medicine, or the precious currency — luminescent stones that glowed with captured starlight, used to light the ever-present darkness.
Right now, however, the city was dark. In the far distance, a Lord's House loomed, large and garish, as though mocking the humble masses.
Footsteps echoed, too loud in the dreadful quiet, as though someone hadn't quite learned how to make themselves as silent as a mouse yet. They came from a tall, broad silhouette, shrouded by a dark cape.
The same figure stopped at a misty crossroads, glanced to their left, to their right, before crossing. Hound watched him go, for it was his target. In the pre-dawn murkiness, he, one of the empire's most feared assassins, merged seamlessly with the shadowy alleyways.
His movements were deliberate, contrasting the unsteady clatter of his unsuspecting target, who seemed oblivious to the danger trailing him. His heavy steps resonated against the cobblestones, discordant in the suffocating silence that enveloped the city like a shroud.
Hound's eyes, accustomed to the darkness, watched from the shadows. His target paused at the misty crossroads, looking left and right — an unnecessary caution in a city where fear reigned supreme and trust had already evaporated.
Not much was known about the Full Moon King, and even less about his envoy. Barbarians, certainly. It would explain this strange sort of caution, this lack of awareness.
The streets of Seijaku at this hour were bereft of life, save for the mechanical patrols and the faint glimmer of dim lights where women, gaunt and hollow-eyed, had already begun to assemble in food lines.
The propaganda on the walls, its paint still fresh, screamed of loyalty and prosperity under the Emperor's rule. The reality on the ground, to outsiders, spoke of tyranny and oppression. Families huddled in their makeshift homes, pieced together from the detritus of a bygone era, whispered anxiously about the day's rations and the ever-looming threat of conscription or worse — disappearance.
It was needed, however. There could be no peace without sacrifice.
The mark stopped outside a decrepit building that served as an office, fumbling with the lock.
This moment, when the target's attention diverted, presented Hound with the opportunity he had been waiting for. Noiselessly, he drew a slender, matte-black blade from beneath his cloak — a blade that had silenced many before his unsuspecting prey.
But the lock opened slightly too fast, and Hound missed his chance.
And so he waited again.
Five minutes later, the broad, cloaked figure returned to the crossroads, his pace hastened and movements louder due to his hurry.
Leaning heavily against a brick wall, the broad, cloaked figure exhaled deeply, clearly distressed. He slid down the wall into a slump, burying his face in his hands with a moan of frustration.
Hound extended his hearing.
"Oh, by my Father's name…" The man muttered to himself, his voice tinged with desperation. "Mom is going to kill me. How could I forget the way…?"
He spoke their language. A native, then…? A whisper emerged from within his cloak, which, despite its heavy appearance, moved with an impossible lightness and fluidity.
"Huh? What did you say, Tabi?" The same man asked, his voice booming unintentionally like distant thunder.
"Stop screaming!" It was a feminine voice — in a vaguely ominous sort of way, perhaps.
"I'm not screaming." The man said, frowning deeply. "You are."
"I said—!" The voice from inside his cloak seemed to take a long breath. "Ask someone else for directions. Subtly."
"I can't, that's just awkward — Please scan the area for me."
"No." The answer was firm. "You should not rely on technology, but your senses. I won't use it."
"Come on!" He pleaded. "Everyone else has a reliable AI but I—"
"Learn how to hunt properly."
The feminine voice muttered something else under her breath, and Hound's sensitive hearing barely caught it. Frowning at his cloak, the broad, cloaked figure reached inside and grasped... a ball of fire? He held it as if it were a bowling ball, and the ball hissed its displeasure in answer.
"My Father was not loud." The man said, shaking the fiery entity lightly as he spoke. "Even Mom says so, and you know she's as honest as it goes — plus she loves complaining about him, too, so — Take it back!"
"I will not take it back, fool boy!" The ball of fire hissed vehemently. "Put me down at once, or I shall assume my true form!"
The man hesitated, considering her threat with what could only be a skeptical lift of his eyebrow. "You wouldn't go full Jūbi on a mission."
"I would go full Jūbi on a mission."
He pondered her declaration, his eyes narrowing in thought. "Nuh-uh." The man finally shook his head, a playful grin spreading across his face. "You care too much about Mom to embarrass her like that."
"With you around, there is no need for me to even try!" The fiery entity hissed snidely.
The man's smile faltered, his expression shifting to one of surprise, then quickly to disappointment. "Oh." He muttered under his breath, his tone deflating.
"Oh, for…" She muttered. "…I didn't mean it."
Silence hung between them, thick and heavy.
"Yūshirō?" Matatabi's voice was tentative now, probing the quiet.
Still, no answer.
"Come on, don't be like that — You know I can be prickly, kid. I…" She sighed deeply, her fiery spirit dampened. "I… I'm sorry—"
"Kidding!" The man suddenly burst out, his face splitting into a wide grin as he glanced back at Matatabi. "Got you good, huh!"
Hound finally realized the man was just a teenager. Despite his youth, he was enormous, towering over even the Empire's largest citizens.
The fiery essence flared back up again, nearly exploding in frustration. "How Yugito's son turned out this way, I will never understand. It must be his genes, as I knew would happen. You are a fool—"
"Takes one to know one!" He grinned.
Their spirited exchange, however, had not gone unnoticed. The escalating volume of their argument had inadvertently drawn the curious and wary glances of passersby, turning heads in a city where attention was often best avoided.
With the ball of fire half-hidden in his cloak, the mark seemed to be talking to himself. The young man glanced at some of the onlookers, greeting them in what he likely thought was an appropriate, friendly manner. Most hurried away.
Hound watched from the shadows, his eyes narrowing as he observed his careless behavior. He was clearly not accustomed to the ways of Seijaku. And as his mark greeted a woman, who eyed him slightly suspiciously but decided to answer him anyway, Hound saw his opportunity.
Besides, he had had enough of the mark and his strange companion's banter.
He fell like a shadow behind the target. Hound moved with lethal precision, his hand rising to clamp over the man's mouth, silencing him, and his blade stabbing toward the mark's unprotected back, striking like a viper. Faster than any of the onlookers could even react to…
The ball of fire sighed.
"Kid."
Dark eyes met Hound's, and although his own widened in surprise, he didn't slow down. But before he could truly reach his mark, a sudden, blinding pain erupted at the back of his head. His grip slackened, the world around him spinning into a blur.
The final thing he heard was the faint echo of the man's words, fading into the abyss as darkness consumed him completely.
"…For real real?"
But then again, it wasn't this empire's story.
HOME/LEGACY
"Do you think I hit him too hard?" Yūshirō asked, frowning. "I tried to pull my punch, but…"
Matatabi snorted. "Why should I care about him?"
"Tabi…"
"He is alive, isn't he? Let us move on. There are better things we could be doing. Napping in the sun, for one."
"Really?" Yūshirō tilted his head. He continued to poke the unconscious man, trying to get a response. "I think that you're just saying this because you feel you have to."
There was a pause, and Yūshirō realized he had likely said something a bit too close to the truth for it to be comfortable.
"And I think…" Matatabi's voice was dry. "That leaving him alive is a foolish mistake in the first place."
Yūshirō sighed, finally giving up on rousing the fallen man. He stood up, brushing off his cloak, and looked around the alley. "I know that you think that, yes. We can't just leave him here, though."
"Why not? He tried to kill you."
Yūshirō shook his head. "That doesn't mean we should abandon him." A miss. "…He might have information we need?"
Reluctantly, Matatabi agreed. "Fine. But if he wakes up and tries anything, do not expect me to be merciful."
Gotcha.
"Noted." Yūshirō grinned, lifting the passed-out would-be-assassin effortlessly and draping him over his shoulder.
Of course, some people had noticed this little commotion. Including a woman he had asked for directions earlier on.
"What have you done…?" She asked, in horror.
"Huh?" Yūshirō glanced down at the small woman — people seemed strangely frail in this world, and she was no exception.
"You killed one of the Emperor's elite!"
"Who…?" Yūshirō then blinked, and looked at the man upon his shoulder. "Oh — Him. No, no… He's not dead, don't worry."
Before the woman could respond, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the narrow alleyway. Yūshirō turned to see a squad of armored soldiers, their uniforms pristine and adorned with the same crest as the unconscious man.
The lead soldier, a tall man with a stern face and a scar running down his cheek, stepped forward. "What's going on here?" His voice was authoritative, demanding an immediate explanation.
Yūshirō sighed, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. "There's no need for alarm. Your comrade is just unconscious. I didn't harm him beyond that."
Ah. From the way, the scarred soldier's eyes widened in fury, he hadn't noticed it had been his doing before — he had a tendency of speaking before he thought, and Matatabi snickered. The soldier raised a hand, and the men around him lifted their rifles in answer.
"…You'd try to kill me too?" Yūshirō frowned. "What's with this place?"
"Humans are the most aggressive animals around, kid. It is about time you saw it for yourself."
Yūshirō ignored Matatabi's taunt, of course.
"Look, he's breathing, and I understand the need for…" He glanced around, noting the dilapidated state of the city. "…Order. But this is a misunderstanding. You seem to be in charge, so let's sort this out without—"
Gunfire erupted, cutting him off.
Yūshirō cursed under his breath, throwing the now screaming woman over his other shoulder and vanishing in a carefully contained Thunder Step. Because it wouldn't do to electrocute the people he was carrying. He reappeared on the side of a nearby building, crouching down upon a ledge, balancing his weight with the agility of a feline, watching the chaos as well as their confusion from afar.
The woman continued to scream, her terror evident.
Yūshirō knew Matatabi often underestimated his intelligence — he couldn't blame her, either. But that she didn't give him much shit about his emotional intelligence meant something. If this woman wasn't used to chakra or had never seen the abilities of the Ring's inhabitants, this all must be terrifying.
He gently set her down on the ledge before crouching to her level. "Hey, hey… It's okay. You're safe now."
She screamed and babbled for a moment longer, and he erected a sound bubble around them wordlessly. He was starting to feel pretty bad for her.
Once that was done, she stared at him with wide, terrified eyes, her hands trembling. "What… What just happened? How did you…?"
Yūshirō gave her a reassuring smile, one he had learned from watching Uncle Sasuke and Kage. "I used a little trick to get us here. No need to worry about that right now."
She stared at him. He was taking a risk by not explaining anything, unsure if this world's technology was advanced enough to believe his explanation.
It seemed to work, as her breathing slowed and her screams stopped. The secret, he knew, was in the smile; he had watched Kage make even the rudest individuals apologize for their misdeeds, reduced to tears; had watched Sasuke prevent Yūshirō's elder brother, Boruto, from making mistakes he would regret, like sneaking Sarada's little sister a bit too much sugar.
"Who… Who are you?" The woman asked, still shaky.
"My name's Yūshirō." He said softly, maintaining eye contact to reassure her. "I'm sorry if I scared you. I didn't mean to."
Her eyes darted around, still taking in her precarious position — both on the side of the building, and the mess she now found herself in. "Are you… Are you one of the Emperor's enemies?"
Yūshirō chuckled, a warm sound that seemed to ease some of her tension. "I guess… that will depend. I'm just someone who's here to help. I promise, I'm not here to hurt anyone." Then he thought some more. "…Not more than this guy, at least."
She hesitated, then took a deep breath. Her trembling began to subside. "…You saved me, then."
He nodded. "More or less — but I got you in this trouble in the first place, too."
"I…" She hesitated, her lower lip trembling. "The Emperor will have my head for this…" She closed her eyes. "My life is over."
Yūshirō's expression grew serious. "Of course not. I will make sure you're safe before I leave, if you'll allow me."
"No one can do that." She said, her voice tinged with despair. "The Emperor—"
He shook his head. "It's a promise."
And those meant something.
The woman's eyes softened, and she seemed to take in his words. Somehow, she seemed to believe he meant well, which was most of the battle. Or perhaps she pitied a man whom she thought was condemned. "That's a fool's errand, but thank you… Yūshirō."
His smile broadened. "You're welcome. What's your name?"
"Emi." She replied, her voice steadier now.
"It's nice to meet you, Emi." Yūshirō extended his hand. She hesitated, then accepted it, and he gently helped her to her feet. "Let's find you a safe place."
"First…" She said.
"Yes?"
There was strength in her eyes, a strength that belied her frail appearance. This world's inhabitants must be resilient, Yūshirō thought.
"First." She repeated, her voice resolute. "I need to know who you are—who you're with, and if you truly oppose the Empire—"
"That's not exactly what I said—" Yūshirō started, then stopped, grimacing. Better to avoid that path; it could only lead to complications. But he didn't really enjoy half-truths, either. He could almost hear the silent Matatabi laughing at him, right now.
Instead of pulling the Bijū out from his cloak and shaking her until she blew up at him, which was what he wanted to do, Yūshirō grinned, his eyes sparkling with what he hoped was roguish charm — something he remembered from Uncle Toru, which might or might not be a good thing.
Now was as good of a time to explain as any.
"Have you ever heard of the Celestial Ring?"
She hadn't.
"…I find this all extremely hard to believe. Even though you — you showed me all this. An… Empire hidden between the stars, full of incredible stories and people… and magic, too…"
Emi had trusted him enough to offer him shelter in her home, despite the additional danger it brought. Yūshirō wasn't entirely sure why, but he was pretty lucky. And people tended to offer him things without him asking. It was true outside of the Ring too — otherwise he would have put it on being his legendary father's son.
They tended to trust him, too.
Her apartment was older than most places Yūshirō had visited. But then again, he had only recently been allowed to go on missions, so much of the world outside was still unknown to him. Aside from projections. This place, in particular, was a mystery.
That the Full Moon King had allowed him to go at all was a great show of trust. Even though the King still insisted Yūshirō call him by his name, or Uncle even, it still felt slightly too odd to do so.
Emi had said little during the journey, guiding him through smaller alleyways and making sure he didn't stand out too much. She told him to cover his hair again, to hunch more, and a pair of shades sat on his nose, obscuring his vision slightly. They were a bit too small, and he found himself fiddling with them too often. The fog was getting thicker, which he didn't care for — though he loved Umi, water had always been a rather distant element for him to channel. It would take more time, likely.
Now, inside her apartment, surrounded by high barbed fences, Yūshirō idly wondered what steel walls were supposed to protect against. A good punch and they would shatter.
But she had asked him a question.
"I understand." Yūshirō nodded. "I'd have trouble believing it too, I guess." He didn't know that for sure, of course. He had grown up there. "But if it helps any—"
Matatabi, her patience already spent, chose this moment to appear, erupting in flames.
"Where is the Emperor?!" She asked. "Speak, human."
Emi screamed.
Five minutes of calming her down and explaining that no, Matatabi wasn't an evil demon, not really, and that yes, it was all real and happening, and no, it wasn't a trap by the Emperor, and Yūshirō was really starting to regret bringing Matatabi with him.
"—Yes, it's my mission." Yūshirō said, decidedly. "And yes, we received a beacon on the Ring— we get many of them on a daily basis, really — and I was sent here to extend our help."
"So that's your responsibility?" Emi asked, her heart still pounding loud enough for Yūshirō's sharp senses to pick up.
Yūshirō hesitated, Matatabi snorted a laugh. "Well, it's pretty recent, but yes."
"I don't get it." Emi said, burying her face in her hands. "I don't think I can even believe it, after all." Yūshirō felt like groaning again. "…Besides, if the place you come from is so great, why would you even bother helping other… worlds?"
Yūshirō blinked. "…Why shouldn't I?"
Emi remained silent, clearly struggling to process everything. Her eyes finally met Yūshirō's, filled with confusion and frustration.
"…Why not do the logical thing — why not look after yourself first?" She asked, voice shaky. "Why — Why would anyone risk their life for people they don't even know? Why would you do that?"
Yūshirō leaned back, considering her words. "Isn't that what you've just done by bringing me here?"
"No!" She exclaimed. "That's — I did that because you helped me! And I am a dead woman anyway! There's nothing else I can lose."
He paused. Help for help seemed to be the standard here, then. This much, he could understand. "…It's different where I come from, I suppose." He said softly. "The Celestial Ring is connected to many worlds. We believe that helping others strengthens the whole."
"Not all of u— you do." Matatabi pointed out, and Emi stiffened, the same way she did anytime the Bijū spoke. Perhaps it was the feeling of impending doom she emitted.
Yūshirō, on the other hand, didn't miss the way Matatbi had almost included herself as one of the Ring's denizens.
"Yeah." Yūshirō admitted. "I guess that's true."
People were still people.
Emi glanced at Yūshirō again. "You're going to go help other people, then? Other… worlds?"
Yūshirō shrugged. "Well, it's my — It's going to be my job."
"Fighting?"
"That's part of it." He nodded.
Her eyes seemed sad, and he wondered why, at first. "…Ah. You were born in it — or made to learn it. That's not—"
Yūshirō held a hand up and shook his head.
"No one made me do it, it's what I've always wanted. I…" He thought about it. "I guess I don't really have a good reason for it, either. But my dad was…"
Her eyes turned softer. "Your dad? Is he…?"
"Gone for the time, yeah." He rubbed the back of his head. "…I guess I wanted to make him proud of me. At first at least — I grew to enjoy it." After thinking of it for a short instant, he pulled his staff from thin air, and she managed not to flinch. "He… gave this to me, once."
"This staff?"
"Yes." Yūshirō held the tool out proudly. "That is the Cat Cat King Bar." He said with near reverence. "It is a near divine tool, one that my father made for me, when I was a child. It extends when I feed it chakra, can carry the elements easily, and is unbreakable. It… is a keepsake of sorts." He added the last part wistfully.
"…C-Cat King Bar?"
Yūshirō shook his head. "Nuh uh. Cat Cat King Bar."
Matatabi was definitely looking away — as she always did when reminded of the reason why he had named it so, as a kid. She had a strange way of handling open affection..
"I put these ornaments on it myself." He said proudly. "…Although Yui helped me with designing them. Don't they look cool…?" Yūshirō nodded again. "That's right—"
"I don't know who you're talking about. And… what's chakra?" Emi asked, frowning. "What's all that about the elements? Like… Radium and stuff?"
Yūshirō winced. "I just told you about chakra. But I'll explain all of this in more detail later, if you want. Now, you asked a question, didn't you?"
"…Yeah." She muttered. "I guess."
"We're not just after the results, where I'm from." Yūshirō smiled. "Maybe that's a bit naive—"
"It is."
Yūshirō growled and pushed down on Matatabi's head, hiding her within his cloak again. "Ignore her please. When all you're looking after is the result, you…" He hesitated.
"Start to look for shortcuts."
Yūshirō nearly blinked at Matatabi's intervention. Was she feeling like being helpful for once?
"…Yes, what she said. And if you take these shortcuts too often, you end up losing sight of why you did it in the first place." Yūshirō nodded. "You get less motivated. I think that the most important thing is—"
"The will to do what's right." Matatabi concluded, yawning. "Bah."
"Will you stop?!" Yūshirō growled. "…But yeah, that."
"Is it my fault you are so predictable?" Despite her words, there was something that could only be called fondness in her voice.
And in spite of her fear of the fiery spirit she couldn't make sense of, in spite of the Empire's soldier lying unconscious in her apartment, in spite of her worry at the growing amount of mysteries surrounding these two impossibly dangerous strangers in her home…
In spite of all that, Emi suddenly seemed to breathe a little lighter.
"…All right." She said, trying to regain some countenance. "All right, I believe you." And then, she took a long breath. "I… trust you, even. Somehow."
Yūshirō beamed. "I trust you too!"
She laughed shortly, but then turned serious.
"If you're really half as capable as you implied… Let me tell you where exactly the Emperor's palace can be found. As well as what you need to know."
"Sweet!"
"The rightful princess is the one who called for your help, likely. She always had a taste for the… occult. Although I suppose the joke is on us, in the end. I can still hardly believe…"
"Ah, so we're dealing with an usurper on the throne? That's typical — a routine assignment E13."
"…Yes, I suppose? But, I… I have bad news, then. She is being held hostage inside his palace."
"Oh, no. Is she okay?"
"Yes, she's treated well, to ensure the people remain docile—"
"Okay, but what's the bad news, then?"
"…That she is within an impenetrable fortress of steel…? Why are you smiling, Yūshirō?"
With a punch, Yūshirō shattered part of the palace's walls.
"—No, no… What I'm asking is: should I go in or call for backup?"
Breaking things very rarely was the tricky part. No, the hard part was figuring out what was the best course of action. The Tower of Recursion was good for learning and practicing nearly anything, and so were projections of different kinds.
But the real world was a different thing altogether. There were consequences to things. And perhaps he was afraid of messing up.
Holding a hand to his ear to keep the inter-dimensional comlink open, Yūshirō waited for his teammate's answer. Matatabi snorted. "Why you would even listen to any of that fool's advice is a mystery to me. Just a few years ago—"
The link flared up in answer.
"I can hear you, Matatabi." A man's voice said dryly.
"Good." She answered. "I would hate for you not to cry yourself to sleep tonight."
"…Gods, you're a pain." The voice said. "As for you, Yūshirō… The call's yours—"
"I don't have all the info I need." Yūshirō blurted out. "I got some, but it's incomplete. I got some more from some soldier I. And, and — This world's messed up. What if I end up causing more trouble for the people — What if I—"
"Hey, hey, hey." The voice said. "Chill out."
"I am chill."
"Sure doesn't sound like it to me."
"…"
"Look, you got this. The Uzumaki blood must have skipped a generation, I suppose, because it's strong in you." The voice said, smiling. "Your spirit… Anyway, just trust your instincts, think twice, and then trust your instincts anyway — that's how I do it."
Yūshirō finally chuckled. "…I'm not sure what I expected. I'll do just that, then."
"Good. And remember. You are…" The voice seemed to hesitate. "…your father's son."
This time, Matatabi laughed. "You do not need to insult him. Besides, I heard the stumble in your voice."
"Well…" The voice said. "He was… Sorry." He hesitated some more. "Your father is a complicated man. Complex."
"Dad was not complicated." Yūshirō shook his head. "I don't know why you two keep saying that."
"Anyone who says that hasn't had the pleasure of trying to understand his taste in women — your mother aside, of course, I have nothing but affection for her. And considering I'm the one saying so, believe me—"
"I remember my aunties." Yūshirō said hotly. "They're great. What of them?"
"Whoa." The voice laughed. "Don't get your panties in a twist. I didn't mean to imply anything."
Yūshirō frowned. "I'm not sure why you're talking about panties right now, but I don't like it. Yui told me to warn her, if you ever said weird things." And so did Jiraiya, but for different reasons, likely.
"It's a—" The voice sighed. "Never mind. Just saying… that I could never make sense out of most of his actions, and his romantic life was just one single aspect of it. By the way, did you know that there were rumors that he had a lover in each—"
"The rumor's wrong." Yūshirō grunted. "He was faithful to my aunties."
"…Wow." The voice deadpanned. "He really paved the way for low standards, huh."
"You're one to talk!" Yūshirō snapped. "You act all mature, but Matatabi—"
"Oh?" The Bijū asked, entirely too delighted. "So you decided to listen to me, after all…?"
Yūshirō took a deep breath. "You know what, it doesn't matter. None of this does."
"It really doesn't." The voice smiled. "Just do you. You got it from now on."
"…Alright. Sorry for snapping at you — it's just a… sensitive topic." Yūshirō managed a smile, his tone lightening. "…And thanks."
"No worries." The voice said. "And, uh… Yūshirō…"
"Yeah?"
"…Don't go overboard, okay?"
"Huh?"
"…I just remembered some of the things your father did when we were on missions together. Maybe — Maybe try to take after your mother a bit more today, alright?"
Yūshirō laughed. "Of course, of course!"
"…And try not to do anything our dear… Full Moon King would do either, okay?"
"You worry too much!" Yūshirō chuckled, dismissing the concern with a wave of his hand.
Five minutes later, the palace's communication system erupted into a frenzy of panic and chaos.
Riku heard it all, even as he kept his rifle aimed at the door.
"Help!" Came a cry through the static. "A demon—"
Then silence.
"They're all dead! — The soldiers, he's attacking only the—"
The transmission cut off abruptly.
"They're alive!" Another shouted. "They're just—"
Silence swallowed the line.
"Send backup! Kenshi just got his teeth smashed in by some meathead with insane retard strength—"
The sentence was cut short by a loud shout overpowering the other noises.
"That's a bad word!" It was a voice he didn't recognize. "Demonic Thunder Cat Mode: Lightning… Bruiser!"
Screams filled the air. Closer and closer. Seemingly from multiple places at once.
Before Riku could react, a supercharged fist smashed into his teeth, strong enough to knock him unconscious.
It was a demon.
The stuff nightmares were made from, shrouded in darkness vaguely shaped like a monstrous feline. With two gleaming eyes.
Or perhaps it was Death.
The Emperor's day had started like any other, with a gray mist across the city. For all this, his soldiers had seemed to be enjoying themselves today as well. They had collected their spoils, laughing as they dragged people from their homes, the screams and pleas for mercy falling on deaf ears.
Blood had stained the cobblestones, and the air had been thick with the scent of fear. The Emperor, of course, had watched it all from his balcony, with cold and unfeeling eyes, as his men reveled in their cruelty. Dissent was to be quelled. No ruler could sustain power in a kingdom brimming with adversaries.
And so his men had been talking loudly, laughing, slightly too drunk to care about the weather. Their drunkenness didn't matter, as his rule was absolute: no one dared to truly defy him.
Except, it seemed, for today.
The demon stood in the shadow of the great hall, eyes burning like his shroud did: with a cold fury.
"Don't bother calling more of your men." It said. "Just give yourself up."
The Emperor, desperate, played his final card. "You came for the crown princess, right?"
"Yes, also." The response was curt, devoid of emotion. "Hand her over."
"Make one move against me and she dies." The Emperor threatened, blustered, his voice quavering as he dabbed at his forehead with a kerchief. "Take some gold and leave. We can forget this ever happened."
The demon looked around the room, making no move to take a step.
Its hand moved.
A long red and gold staff appeared in his grasp, spinning effortlessly despite its apparent weight, held loosely in his hand. Outside, the mists were seemingly starting to clear.
"Ah well." The demon said. "Uncle Ay always said not to waste Kumo's sacred arts on the unworthy. But you might just be worthy."
Dark lightning gathered at his feet, crackling ominously.
"Draw your weapon, Emperor." He said. "Let's see if you truly deserve your title."
His eyes were dark with what seemed to be electricity as well. Although his lips were pulled up, his expression had nothing to do with a smile.
"…And which part of 'don't do things like your father' did you not get?!"
Amid the wreckage where the palace once stood proudly, the scene looked straight out of one of the Ring's many disaster movies — strangely enough, with no danger at all, people seemed to relish in watching this sort of thing.
What had been a throne and walls was now a gaping hole opening to the suddenly blue sky. Because Yūshirō had been careful after all, no one was hurt — a small consolation that might have been a feather in his cap under different circumstances.
"That's not Uzumaki shit — That's Emperor shit! We're — We're supposed to be underground. Why then… Can I see the sky?!"
Yūshirō groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I'm sorry…"
"I, for one, think you have done a marvelous job, kid." Matatabi chimed in, with a grin far too cheerful for the occasion.
"Tabi, please, not helping."
Meanwhile, this world's Emperor had passed out — more from sheer terror than anything else. The smell of fear was unmistakable, and so was another smell; he had also soiled himself. Once the dust had settled and Yūshirō had had a moment to cool down, he had called his teammate again.
There were some regrets. But how was he supposed to keep his cool, in this sort of place…?
An Empire was not supposed to be a place where things were so horribly unequal. It wasn't supposed to be a place where tyrannical rulers stole from an impoverished population. It wasn't supposed to be a place in which they could lord their privilege all over—
A voice interrupted his thoughts.
"It's… It's you! — I thought I was dreaming, but when your clones freed the hostages, faster than anything I could see…" Her voice rose with excitement. "It was a fool's hope, but my call reached, after all! — You've come for me, when I needed you the most! Naruto-sama!"
Yūshirō blinked. The woman who had just yelled with such excitement now hurled herself towards him. Instinctively, he opened his arms to catch her.
"I finally get to see you again — And, oh, you were right... I should have taken your offer of help, years ago, now things are just so… — And, and…" She was blubbering. "Oh, how I've waited for this day —" The princess began, tears welling up, then paused, squinting at him. "…Wait. You're not Naruto-sama, are you?"
"…No." Yūshirō replied slowly, shaking his head. "I'm his son."
"Oh." She stepped back, eyeing him up and down. "You do look a bit young — But… You're quite large, aren't you? Even for Naruto-sama's son."
His teammate looked at Yūshirō pointedly. The meaning was clear: see what I meant…?
Yūshirō shrugged, a bit despondently. "I train a lot. It's part of the Kumo regimen — my mother's from there, and so are two of my mentors, Killer Bee of the Wu-Tang Clan and Ay of the Yotsuki. You need a lot of strength for the Lightning enhancements we use."
And their most sacred one, the Dark Lightning, which required Sage chakra and had earned him a tattoo once he had mastered it, just two years ago—
"But… You're so… young!"
Yūshirō blinked. "How so? I'm almost seventeen." He said. "And I eat well."
"What exactly are you eating? Trenbolone…?" She asked half-jokingly.
"What's that?" Yūshirō frowned.
"Never mind." She waved it off. "Just whatever, then? Your family really must have some great genes. I should have..." She trailed off, wistfully.
Yūshirō's teammate continued to look at him. Pointedly. See…?
"…And the standard Cube supplements." Yūshirō added.
There was a pause, slightly awkward.
"So, where is Naruto-sama then?" She finally asked.
The other man, his teammate, who was none other than Gama, finally sighed.
lensdump
i/leqo6F : Yūshirō
i/leVjk1 : Gama or: The Responsible Ward : Even though Yūshirō was a sweet kid, Gama couldn't help but worry about his unfortunate parentage.
AN: Short(er) and hopefully sweet. We might just end on 115 — unless I change my mind again and this ends up becoming longer than Detective Conan... Kidding, kidding.
Next chapter: Home/Ring