All According to Plan
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. "Naruto" and all related characters, settings, and concepts are the property of Masashi Kishimoto and respective companies. This story is written by a fan, for fans, with no financial gain
Story Summary: In a world where darkness and light dance a delicate waltz, the Hokage's gambit unfolds. A tale of hidden alliances, emotional manipulation, and the relentless pursuit of power. Naruto Uzumaki, a boy burdened by a demon and scarred by isolation, finds himself at the center of a grand scheme, his destiny intertwined with the fate of Konoha itself. Will he rise above the shadows that haunt him, or will he succumb to the darkness that threatens to consume him?
Chapter 8 - Shattered Illusions, Unbreakable Bonds
"As the dust settles on a devastating battle, the young shinobi of Konoha must confront the shattered remnants of their past and forge a new path towards a brighter future."
The torchlight flickered, casting grotesque shadows that danced across the walls of the hidden workshop. Raito, his face a mask of barely contained fury, surveyed the scene before him. Tools lay scattered across workbenches, half-finished blades gleamed ominously in the dim light, and shelves sagged under the weight of countless scrolls and tomes. Yet, the prize he sought, the Storm Caller, remained elusive.
"Damn it!" he roared, his voice echoing through the cavernous space. "Where is it? Where did that treacherous snake hide his masterpiece?"
He kicked over a stool, sending it clattering across the stone floor. "We've searched every inch of this cursed place," he snarled, his eyes scanning the room with a predatory intensity. "There's no sign of the katana, or any of the materials he used to forge it."
Jin, his loyal scout, stepped forward, his face etched with concern. "Perhaps he hid them elsewhere, Raito-sama," he suggested, his voice a hesitant whisper. "There are many secret passages and hidden chambers in this workshop."
Raito's eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint in their depths. "Then we shall find them," he declared, his voice a low growl. "We will tear this place apart, brick by brick, until we uncover his secrets."
He turned to his men, his voice booming with authority. "Search every nook and cranny! Leave no stone unturned! The Storm Caller must be found!"
The samurai, their faces grim with determination, scattered throughout the workshop, their footsteps echoing in the eerie silence. Raito, his hand tightening around the hilt of his katana, paced restlessly, his mind racing with a thousand possibilities.
He had come too far, sacrificed too much, to fail now. The Storm Caller was not just a weapon, it was a symbol of his redemption, a key to reclaiming his lost honor and power. He would not rest until it was in his grasp.
The sun hung high in the sky, casting a harsh light on the rugged terrain of Waterfall Country. Team 7, their faces etched with determination, huddled together in a secluded clearing, their eyes fixed on Naruto.
"I found them," Naruto announced, his voice barely a whisper. He had dispersed his shadow clones throughout the surrounding forest, their senses extending his own, their eyes scouring every nook and cranny for any sign of the rogue samurai.
"A well-hidden encampment," he continued, his brow furrowed in concentration as he relayed the information gleaned from his clones. "Five samurai, heavily armed and patrolling the perimeter. They've set up camp around the mouth of a hidden cave, likely the entrance to the bladesmith's workshop."
Sasuke, his eyes gleaming with a predatory light, nodded slowly. "Five," he repeated, his voice a low growl. "That's manageable."
Yakumo, her gaze fixed on the distant mountains, a flicker of concern in her eyes, added, "We must be cautious. Samurai are skilled warriors, and they will not give up the Storm Caller easily."
Hiruzen, who had been listening intently, placed a reassuring hand on Naruto's shoulder. "Well done, Naruto-kun," he praised, his voice a warm rumble. "Your reconnaissance skills are invaluable."
He turned to the rest of the team, his gaze sweeping over their faces. "Now, let us formulate a plan. We must act swiftly and decisively if we are to retrieve the Storm Caller before the samurai discover its location."
Naruto, his mind already racing with tactical possibilities, spoke up. "I can create a diversion," he suggested, his eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. "My shadow clones can draw the samurai away from the cave entrance, giving you and Sasuke a chance to infiltrate the workshop."
Sasuke, a smirk playing on his lips, nodded in agreement. "A sound plan," he said, his voice laced with a hint of respect. "But be careful. These samurai are not to be underestimated."
Yakumo, her voice soft but firm, added, "I can use my genjutsu to mask your presence and create illusions to further confuse the enemy."
Hiruzen nodded approvingly. "A well-thought-out strategy," he said. "But remember, teamwork is key. You must rely on each other's strengths and cover each other's weaknesses. Now, go forth and bring back the Storm Caller."
With a shared nod of determination, Team 7 split into two groups. Naruto and Yakumo, their movements swift and silent, disappeared into the undergrowth, their mission to create a diversion that would draw the samurai away from the cave entrance. Sasuke and Hiruzen, their chakra signatures masked by a subtle genjutsu, made their way towards the hidden workshop, their eyes fixed on the prize that awaited them.
Under the midday sun, Naruto and Yakumo moved through the dense foliage like phantoms, their presence masked by Yakumo's masterful illusions. Naruto, his chakra signature suppressed and his footsteps softened by a whisper of wind manipulation, infiltrated the samurai encampment with the stealth of a seasoned infiltrator.
The camp, a hastily constructed affair of crudely built tents and makeshift barricades, sprawled around the mouth of a hidden cave, its entrance guarded by five watchful samurai. Naruto, his senses honed by years of training and his Uzumaki heritage, quickly assessed their positions and weaknesses.
Five targets, he thought to himself, his mind already formulating a plan. Four on patrol, one stationed at the cave entrance. Time to create some chaos.
With a silent hand seal, Naruto summoned a small army of shadow clones, each one a perfect replica of himself, their movements synchronized and their expressions mirroring his own mischievous grin. The clones dispersed, their forms flickering through the trees like wraiths, their presence masked by Yakumo's genjutsu, which subtly altered the samurai's perception, drawing their attention away from the true threat.
The clones stealthily infiltrated the camp, their nimble fingers planting explosive tags on every available surface: tents, supply crates, weapons racks, even the armor adorning the unsuspecting samurai. The tags, tiny yet potent, hummed with barely contained energy, their seals primed for detonation.
With a final, silent nod, Naruto signalled to Yakumo, who, with a flick of her wrist, dispelled the genjutsu that had cloaked their movements. The sudden reappearance of the shadow clones, their numbers now doubled, startled the samurai, their eyes widening in alarm.
Naruto, his grin widening into a full-blown smirk, stepped forward, his hands forming the familiar Ram seal. "Surprise!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the clearing.
With a resounding boom, the camp erupted in a symphony of explosions. Tents collapsed, crates splintered, and weapons flew through the air as the explosive tags detonated in a chain reaction. The samurai, caught off guard by the sudden onslaught, scrambled to defend themselves, their formation broken and their morale shattered.
Naruto, his work done, vanished in a puff of smoke, his shadow clones dispersing along with him. The remaining samurai, their faces etched with rage and confusion, gave chase, their swords drawn and their battle cries echoing through the forest.
But as they pursued their elusive quarry, they found themselves drawn deeper into the woods, the familiar landmarks of the camp fading away, replaced by a disorienting maze of twisted trees and shifting shadows.
Yakumo, her eyes glowing with a demonic light, stood hidden amongst the foliage, her brush poised above a canvas. With a few deft strokes, she completed her masterpiece, an intricate tapestry of illusion and despair that ensnared the samurai's minds, plunging them into a nightmarish world of their own fears and regrets.
As the samurai struggled against the illusion, their movements slowing and their resolve faltering, Sasuke and Hiruzen emerged from the shadows, their eyes fixed on the cave entrance.
"It's time," Hiruzen whispered, his voice a low rumble.
Sasuke nodded, his Sharingan eyes gleaming with a predatory light.
With a burst of speed, they vanished into the darkness of the cave, leaving behind the echoes of battle and the fading cries of the ensnared samurai.
The cave mouth, hidden behind a curtain of lush moss and gnarled roots, opened into a dimly lit tunnel that descended sharply into the earth. Sasuke, his Sharingan eyes piercing the darkness, led the way, his senses heightened by the anticipation of the unknown. The air grew heavy with the scent of iron and sulfur as they ventured deeper, the echoing drip of water the only sound that broke the oppressive silence.
The tunnel opened into a cavernous chamber, its walls adorned with a bewildering array of tools and artifacts. Anvils, hammers, tongs, and other blacksmithing implements were scattered haphazardly across the floor, their gleaming surfaces dulled by dust and neglect. Scrolls, brushes, and inkstones lay strewn across a nearby table, testament to the bladesmith's meticulous craftsmanship and artistic sensibilities.
Sasuke's eyes, darting across the scene, quickly took in the signs of recent activity. Overturned chairs, scattered papers, and a lingering scent of fear and desperation painted a grim picture of the samurai's hurried search for the Storm Caller.
A flicker of torchlight caught Sasuke's attention, his Sharingan swirling as he focused on the source. He raised a hand, signaling to Hiruzen that they were approaching their targets.A
Hiruzen, his weathered face etched with a knowing smile, nodded silently. Remember, Sasuke-kun, his voice echoed in the young Uchiha's mind, I am here to support, not to lead. This is your battle.
Sasuke, his heart pounding with a mixture of adrenaline and anticipation, acknowledged the message with a subtle nod. He tightened his grip on his kunai, its familiar weight a comforting presence in the face of the unknown.
The main chamber of the workshop was a spacious cavern, its high ceiling lost in the shadows. An immense forge, its embers glowing with a dull red heat, dominated the center of the room, while workbenches, overflowing with tools and half-finished blades, lined the walls.
Two figures emerged from the flickering shadows, their faces hidden behind fearsome masks. One, a tall, lean figure with a hawk-like nose and piercing eyes, wielded a pair of wakizashi with deadly precision. The other, a hulking brute with bulging muscles and a scarred face, brandished a massive kanabo, its spiked head glinting in the dim light.
Jin, the falconer, and Hiroshi, the brute, stood shoulder-to-shoulder, their stances radiating a quiet confidence and unwavering loyalty to their leader.
Sasuke, his Sharingan ablaze, didn't hesitate. With a burst of speed, he launched himself forward, his hand seals blurring as he unleashed a torrent of fireballs.
Hiroshi, his reflexes honed by years of combat, reacted instantly. With a mighty roar, he swung his kanabo, the massive club deflecting the fireballs with ease, sending them scattering harmlessly against the cavern walls.
Sasuke, undeterred, continued his assault, his movements a blur of motion as he weaved through Jin's attacks, his kunai flashing in the dim light. Jin, his eyes narrowed in concentration, countered with a series of lightning-fast strikes, his wakizashi humming as they sliced through the air.
Hiruzen, his movements as fluid as water, circled the combatants, his presence a distraction that allowed Sasuke to focus on his primary target. With a flick of his wrist, he unleashed a barrage of kunai, each one imbued with a subtle genjutsu that created flickering illusions of monstrous creatures, distracting Jin and giving Sasuke an opening.
Sasuke, seizing the opportunity, ducked under Jin's guard and delivered a swift kick to the back of his knee, sending the samurai stumbling forward. Before Jin could recover, Sasuke's kunai flashed again, slicing through the tendons in his wrists, disarming him in one swift motion.
Hiroshi, enraged by his comrade's defeat, roared and charged towards Sasuke, his kanabo raised high above his head. Sasuke, his Sharingan predicting the attack, ducked beneath the blow, his body a blur as he weaved through Hiroshi's legs, his kunai slicing through the back of the samurai's thigh.
Sasuke's Sharingan eyes widened, the world around him slowing as the danger registered. His preternatural instincts screamed a warning, a blade of wind arcing towards him, poised to sever his head from his shoulders. It was an attack he couldn't hope to dodge, a maneuver so swift and precise that it defied his Sharingan's predictive abilities.
But just as the razor-sharp wind neared, a blur of motion intercepted it. A sturdy arm wrapped around Sasuke's waist, yanking him back with surprising force. A heavy thud resounded through the cavern as a black adamantine staff, seemingly materialized from thin air, clashed against the wind blade, deflecting its deadly trajectory.
Sasuke, his heart pounding in his chest, found himself sprawled on the cold stone floor, Hiruzen standing protectively over him, the adamantine staff now held in a defensive stance. His eyes, sharp and focused, were locked on a new figure who had emerged from the shadows, a figure that exuded an aura of power and menace.
Raito, the rogue samurai commander, stood tall and proud, his weathered face a mask of cold fury. The Storm Caller, its blade gleaming with an ethereal glow, was now firmly in his grasp, its power surging through him, amplifying his already formidable strength and speed. His eyes, normally a piercing blue, now shimmered with an unsettling intensity, a testament to the blade's influence.
Raito lunged forward, his movements a blur as he unleashed a whirlwind of attacks, his katana slicing through the air with deadly precision. Hiruzen, his staff a whirlwind of its own, met each strike with a resounding clang, the force of their blows echoing through the cavern.
The two masters engaged in a fierce duel, their movements a dance of death and defiance. Sasuke, his Sharingan analyzing the battle with a desperate intensity, realized the true danger they faced.
"Sensei!" he shouted, his voice barely audible over the din of combat. "The sword... it has a will of its own! It's amplifying his power!"
Hiruzen, his movements faltering for a moment, acknowledged Sasuke's warning with a curt nod. He knew the risks of facing a wielder of a legendary blade, especially one infused with chakra. But he would not back down, not while his students' lives were in danger.
Raito, sensing a momentary lapse in Hiruzen's focus, pressed his attack, his strikes becoming more ferocious, more relentless. The Hokage, his strength waning, found himself struggling to keep up with the samurai's enhanced speed and power.
Sasuke, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear and determination, knew he had to act. He could not allow his sensei to face this threat alone.
Kenzo, a proud warrior of the Ishikawa clan, found himself standing on a blood-soaked battlefield, the bodies of his fallen comrades strewn around him. The air was thick with the stench of death and decay, the cries of the dying echoing in his ears. He saw himself, younger, brasher, charging into battle without hesitation, his katana flashing in the sunlight. But as he watched, his younger self fell, his body pierced by a thousand blades, his lifeblood staining the earth crimson.
Kenzo screamed, his voice a hoarse cry of anguish and despair. He had always prided himself on his courage, his unwavering loyalty to his clan and his lord. But in this moment of truth, he saw only his own cowardice, his inability to protect those he held dear.
A shadow fell over him, a figure emerging from the mist. It was Naruto, his eyes blazing with an otherworldly light. With a swift movement, he plunged a kunai into Kenzo's heart, ending his torment.
Masaru, a skilled tactician of the Suzuki clan, found himself trapped in a labyrinth of mirrors, each one reflecting a different version of himself. He saw himself as a child, his eyes filled with innocence and wonder. He saw himself as a young man, eager to prove his worth to his clan. He saw himself as a seasoned warrior, his hands stained with the blood of his enemies.
But the most terrifying reflection was the one that stared back at him now, a twisted, monstrous version of himself, his face contorted in a mask of rage and despair. This was the darkness that lurked within him, the insatiable hunger for power that threatened to consume his soul.
He tried to turn away, to break free from the illusion, but the mirrors surrounded him, their reflections taunting him with his own inner demons.
A cold hand gripped his shoulder, a voice whispering in his ear. "Embrace the darkness, Masaru," it hissed. "It is your destiny."
Masaru screamed, his voice a guttural cry of defiance. He would not succumb to the darkness, not while he still had a shred of hope left.
But his defiance was short-lived. A blinding flash of light erupted before his eyes, and when he opened them again, he was staring into the face of death.
The heart of the Illusory Forest of Doom pulsed with a chilling rhythm, its twisted trees reaching towards the sky like skeletal claws, their gnarled branches dripping with an ethereal mist. Yakumo, her face pale and drawn, knelt at the forest's edge, her chakra reserves dwindling as she maintained the illusion's delicate balance.
Beside her, the real Naruto stood guard, his eyes scanning the surrounding area with a vigilance honed through years of training. He had witnessed the power of Yakumo's genjutsu firsthand, but he had never seen her this drained, this close to the edge.
"Yakumo-chan," he whispered, his voice filled with concern. "Are you alright?"
Yakumo, her breath coming in ragged gasps, shook her head. "The demon... it's fighting back," she managed to say, her voice a mere croak. "I can't... hold it much longer."
Naruto's heart clenched with worry. He had grown close to Yakumo during their short time as teammates, drawn to her quiet strength and gentle spirit. He reached out, his hand hovering hesitantly over her shoulder before finally settling on her back, offering a silent reassurance.
Meanwhile, within the depths of the illusionary forest, the four samurai were trapped in their own personal nightmares, their deepest fears and regrets manifested into tangible horrors.
Daisuke, a young and ambitious warrior of the Tanaka clan, found himself trapped in a twisted parody of his own wedding ceremony. He stood at the altar, his bride, a beautiful woman with long flowing hair and kind eyes, smiling radiantly beside him. But as he reached out to take her hand, her face melted away, revealing a grotesque, skeletal visage, her eyes hollow and lifeless.
The wedding guests, once cheerful and celebratory, transformed into ghoulish figures, their laughter turning into mocking cackles. The air filled with the stench of decay, and the once vibrant decorations wilted and withered before his eyes.
Daisuke stumbled back, his heart pounding with terror. He had always dreamed of a happy marriage, a loving family to carry on his legacy. But now, his dreams were twisted into a horrifying nightmare, a grotesque mockery of his deepest desires.
A cold hand gripped his arm, a voice whispering in his ear. "This is your future, Daisuke," it hissed. "A life of loneliness and despair."
Daisuke screamed, his voice a desperate plea for mercy. He wanted to wake up, to escape this living nightmare. But the illusion held him captive, its tendrils of fear burrowing deep into his soul.
As he struggled against the relentless grip of the genjutsu, he felt a sharp pain in his chest, a searing agony that consumed him. He looked down to see a kunai buried deep in his heart, blood staining his wedding kimono a crimson hue.
Takeshi, a stoic and disciplined warrior of the Nakamura clan, found himself standing before a towering inferno, the flames licking at his feet, their heat scorching his skin. He saw the faces of his loved ones, his wife and children, trapped within the blaze, their screams of agony echoing in his ears.
He lunged forward, desperate to save them, but the flames pushed him back, their searing heat a barrier he could not overcome. He watched helplessly as his family perished, their screams fading into the roar of the inferno.
The fire, fueled by his guilt and despair, grew in intensity, consuming everything in its path. Takeshi, his body wracked with sobs, collapsed to his knees, the weight of his loss crushing him.
A cold hand touched his shoulder, a voice whispering in his ear. "You failed them, Takeshi," it hissed. "You were weak, powerless to save those you loved."
Takeshi's eyes, once filled with unwavering resolve, now mirrored the flames that consumed him. He was a failure, a disgrace to his clan, a burden to those he had sworn to protect.
The illusion intensified, the flames growing hotter, brighter, until they engulfed him completely. His body convulsed, his mind fracturing under the strain.
Then, suddenly, the pain vanished, replaced by a numb emptiness. The flames receded, the screams of his loved ones silenced.
He was alone, lost in a vast expanse of nothingness. His mind, broken by the illusion, was a blank slate, his identity erased, his purpose forgotten.
As the last vestiges of Yakumo's demonic illusion faded, the air in the clearing crackled with a lingering tension. The four samurai lay sprawled on the forest floor, three of them motionless and lifeless, while the fourth twitched and mumbled incoherently, his mind shattered by the overwhelming power of the genjutsu.
Naruto, his adrenaline still pumping, knelt beside the trembling form of Takeshi, the samurai whose mind had been broken. He reached out a tentative hand, but quickly retracted it, unsure of what to do. He had never encountered such a state before, a living body devoid of consciousness, a shell of a man trapped in a prison of his own shattered thoughts.
Yakumo, her seal receding and her demonic features fading, swayed slightly, her knees buckling under her. Naruto, ever vigilant, caught her before she could fall, his arm encircling her waist to support her weight.
"Easy there, Yakumo-chan," he said, his voice gentle and reassuring. "You did great. You saved us."
Yakumo, her breathing shallow and ragged, leaned into his embrace, her body trembling with exhaustion. "The demon... it almost took over," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I'm so tired."
Naruto, his heart filled with a mixture of concern and admiration, reached into his pouch and retrieved a small, green pill. "Here," he said, gently placing it in her hand. "This is a soldier pill. It'll help replenish your chakra."
Yakumo nodded gratefully, swallowing the pill without hesitation. But as she began to regain her strength, her eyes widened in surprise as Naruto extended his arm towards her, his sleeve rolled up to reveal a small bite mark on his forearm.
"What... what are you doing?" she asked, her voice a mix of confusion and apprehension.
Naruto, a sheepish grin spreading across his face, explained, "Since Karin awakened my Uzumaki bloodline, I've discovered that I have incredible regenerative abilities. Not just for myself, but for others too. All you have to do is bite me, and my chakra will flow into you, replenishing your reserves."
Yakumo hesitated for a moment, her eyes darting between Naruto's arm and his sincere expression. She had always been wary of physical contact, her past traumas making her hesitant to trust others. But Naruto's offer, so selfless and genuine, melted away her reservations.
With a hesitant nod, she leaned forward and gently bit into Naruto's outstretched arm. A warm sensation spread through her body as his chakra flowed into her, replenishing her depleted reserves and soothing her frayed nerves.
"Thank you, Naruto-kun," she whispered, her voice filled with gratitude. "I... I don't know how to repay you."
Naruto, his arm already healing at an astonishing rate, shrugged. "Don't worry about it," he said, his smile genuine. "We're a team, right? We look out for each other."
Yakumo, her heart warmed by his words, offered a shy smile in return. "Right," she agreed. "We're a team."
With renewed vigor, the two shinobi rose to their feet, their eyes fixed on the cave entrance. It was time to join their sensei and Sasuke, to face the remaining samurai and retrieve the Storm Caller.
The clang of steel on steel reverberated through the cavernous workshop, each strike a testament to the raw power and skill of the combatants. Hiruzen, his movements a blur of experience and precision, parried Raito's relentless assault, the black adamantine staff meeting the Storm Caller's wind-infused blade in a shower of sparks.
Sasuke, his Sharingan eyes wide with a mixture of awe and frustration, watched the duel unfold. He had anticipated a swift victory, his confidence bolstered by his Sharingan's predictive abilities and Orochimaru's private training. But Raito, empowered by the Storm Caller, moved with a speed and ferocity that defied Sasuke's expectations.
He's too fast, Sasuke thought, his mind racing as he tried to anticipate Raito's next move. I can barely keep up with his movements, let alone land a hit.
He attempted to provide support with his fire jutsu, but Raito's wind manipulation easily deflected the flames, rendering them harmless. Sasuke's frustration grew with each failed attack, the realization dawning on him that he was not only useless in this fight, but he was actively hindering his sensei.
I'm holding him back, he realized with a sinking heart. I'm not strong enough.
Just as Raito pressed his attack, a wave of disorientation washed over him. Yakumo, her voice echoing through the cavern, whispered, "Demonic Illusion: False Path."
The workshop's walls seemed to shift and melt, the forge's glow morphing into a kaleidoscope of colors. Raito stumbled, his senses momentarily disoriented, giving Hiruzen a brief respite.
Two figures emerged from the swirling illusion, a shadow clone appearing on either side of Raito their movements swift and decisive. Naruto, his eyes narrowed in concentration, activated the two experimental blast charges his clones were brandishing on either side of him. The devices, designed to release a focused burst of concussive force, glowed ominously in his hands.
"Eat this!" Naruto shouted, directed the charges towards Raito.
The blast charges detonated with a deafening roar, a blinding flash of light filling the cavern. The explosion was far more powerful than Naruto had anticipated, the shockwave reverberating through the room, sending debris flying and plunging the workshop into darkness.
Amidst the chaos, coughs and splutters could be heard as the shinobi struggled to regain their bearings. Naruto, his ears ringing from the explosion, groped blindly through the smoke, his hand searching for his teammates.
Suddenly, a gust of wind swept through the cavern, clearing the smoke and revealing a startling sight. Raito, his body wreathed in a swirling vortex of wind chakra, stood unscathed in the center of the room, his eyes burning with a newfound intensity.
Hiruzen, his face etched with grim determination, raised his staff, ready to face the onslaught. But before he could move, a new figure emerged from the shadows, her voice a playful lilt that belied the immense power radiating from her body.
"Mr. Nine," Fuu, the Seven-Tails Jinchuriki, said with a teasing smile, her vibrant green chakra cloak swirling around her. "This has been cute, but why are you letting a little wind demon batter your team around?"
The abrupt appearance of the Jinchuriki caused a ripple of surprise through the assembled team. All eyes turned towards Fuu, her entrance as dramatic as it was unexpected. Her gaze swept over them, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.
Naruto, taken aback by her direct address, stammered, "I... I don't have control of my Bijuu." His words were laced with a hint of embarrassment, a confession of his vulnerability in this strange new world.
Fuu cocked her head, her eyes narrowing as she recognized the familiar features of the old Hokage in the young man before her. "Your monkey grandpa should have taught you," she chided, her voice a mix of amusement and reproach, "It's dangerous to live like us and not know how to fight like us."
Her words were a stark reminder of the harsh reality they faced. The world they inhabited was one where power was paramount, and ignorance was a perilous weakness.
Raito, ever protective of his team, roared in indignation as he lunged towards Fuu, his blade gleaming in the dim light. However, Fuu was faster. With a graceful movement, she caught his blade between her fingers, a trail of blood welling up from the cut Storm Caller inflicted on her arm.
"Interesting," she murmured, her eyes glinting with newfound interest. With a powerful flap of her wings, she unleashed a gust of wind that sent Raito reeling backward, coating him in a fine powder of her special scales.
"Don't worry," she purred, her voice laced with playful malice, "It's just a little something to help you sleep better at night."
Then she ripped his heart out of his chest with her bare hands, even as she settled scale powder over the two downed samurai Sasuke had previously incapacitated.
