Ryuichi's dream began innocently enough, as they often did, with the familiar surroundings of Konoha taking shape around him in a soft, hazy light. He found himself standing in a quiet part of the village, the streets bathed in the pale glow of moonlight, the sky above scattered with stars. Everything seemed peaceful at first, but there was something off. The silence wasn't serene; it was heavy, unnatural, as though the world itself was holding its breath.
As he took a tentative step forward, the village began to shift unnervingly. The buildings around him warped and twisted, the walls bending in ways that defied reality, like the entire landscape was being reshaped by some unseen force. Panic rose in his chest, and he froze, trying to understand what was happening.
Suddenly, the ground beneath him shook violently, a tremor so powerful that it rattled the very air. The sky above, once calm and starry, transformed into a swirling vortex of shadow and chaos. Ryuichi's heart pounded, and he felt a deep, instinctual fear grip him as a primal roar filled the air, the sound reverberating through his body. It was a sound so immense, so filled with raw fury, that it seemed to pierce his soul.
The tremors grew stronger, and Ryuichi's legs felt as if they had turned to stone, unable to move. He wanted to run, to escape, but his body refused to obey. He could only watch, helpless, as the monstrous form of the Kyūbi—the Nine-Tails—began to emerge from the swirling darkness.
It was a sight beyond comprehension. The Kyūbi towered over the village, its presence so immense and terrifying that the entire world seemed to shrink in comparison. Its blood-red eyes burned with malice, glowing like embers in the night, and its fur bristled with violent energy. Each of its nine massive tails lashed out, tearing through the landscape with terrifying ease, reducing homes and streets to rubble. The sheer power radiating from the beast was suffocating, making Ryuichi feel small, insignificant, like a speck before an unstoppable storm.
The Kyūbi let out another deafening roar, its voice shaking the heavens and the earth alike. With each thrash of its tails, more of Konoha crumbled into dust, the air thick with smoke and debris. The destruction was absolute, the village he knew obliterated by the Kyūbi's unrelenting rage.
Amidst the chaos, something else caught his attention. A figure—small, broken—lay crumpled on the ground in the shadow of the rampaging beast. Ryuichi's eyes widened in horror as he recognized her: Kushina Uzumaki, his tutor and the woman who had taught him so much.
But this was not the fierce, vibrant Kushina he knew. Her once brilliant red hair was matted with blood, and her body lay twisted and limp, pinned to the ground by the Kyūbi's massive claw. The sight was horrifying, a cruel mockery of the woman who had always seemed invincible to him. Blood pooled around her, dark and ominous, seeping into the shattered earth, and her breathing—ragged and shallow—was barely audible amidst the cacophony of destruction.
"K-Kushina-san?" Ryuichi's voice trembled, barely a whisper, his words lost in the roar of the Kyūbi.
But there was no response. Kushina lay motionless, her body broken, her life slipping away before his very eyes. The sight of her impaled, helpless against the Kyūbi's overwhelming might, made his stomach churn with dread. The invincible Kushina, who had always seemed so strong, was now dying, and there was nothing he could do.
"Why…?" he muttered, his voice shaking as tears welled in his eyes. He didn't understand. How could this happen?
And then, amidst the chaos, another figure appeared—a man, standing tall and resolute in front of the Kyūbi. His golden hair shone like a beacon even in the gloom, and though his face was obscured by shadows, there was something about him that demanded attention. His white cloak, bearing the insignia of the Hokage, fluttered in the violent winds stirred by the Kyūbi's thrashing. He radiated power, but also a quiet, unspoken sadness.
"Who…?" Ryuichi's voice broke as he watched the man. There was something familiar about him, but Ryuichi couldn't place it. Who was this stranger who stood between the Kyūbi and the village, facing down the beast with unwavering resolve? And why did he seem so familiar, yet so distant, like a ghost from a forgotten memory?
The Kyūbi roared once more, gathering a massive ball of dark chakra between its jaws—a Bijū Bomb. The deadly sphere crackled with energy, growing larger by the second, its power warping the very air around it. Ryuichi's heart sank. He knew what would happen next. The village… Kushina… everything was about to be destroyed.
"No!" he screamed, but his voice was lost in the roar of the beast.
In a blur of motion, the golden-haired man vanished from sight, reappearing directly in front of the Kyūbi. He raised his hands, forming seals faster than Ryuichi could follow, and in an instant, he created a massive barrier of chakra, pushing back against the Bijū Bomb. The strain was clear on the man's face, but he stood firm, his body radiating a fierce determination.
And then, the Kyūbi's attack detonated, the shockwave ripping through the village, consuming everything in its path in a blinding flash of light.
Ryuichi jolted awake, gasping for breath, his body drenched in cold sweat. His heart hammered in his chest, his pulse racing as if he had truly been in the middle of the battle. For a moment, he was disoriented, the darkness of his room making it hard to distinguish between the dream and reality. The vividness of the nightmare still clung to him, the images of destruction, of Kushina's broken body, and the mysterious blond man burned into his mind.
He sat up in bed, his hands shaking as he clutched the blankets, trying to calm his racing thoughts. What had he just seen? Was it just a dream, or something more? His dreams had never been so vivid before, never so real. He usually dismissed his dreams as meaningless fragments of his mind, but this… this felt different.
Ryuichi's mind raced, trying to make sense of it. Could it be that his dream was a vision of the future? Could he have some kind of power that allowed him to see things before they happened? The thought sent a chill down his spine. He had heard of shinobi with prophetic abilities, but he had never considered that he might be one of them.
Was he seeing the future? Was Konoha truly in danger from the Kyūbi? And who was the blond man who faced the beast so bravely? Ryuichi's chest tightened with anxiety. If his dream was a warning, what was he supposed to do? How could he possibly stop something so massive, so destructive?
"In calligraphy, just as in life, every stroke is important. You must be patient with yourself, and trust that with time and dedication, each line will contribute to the whole picture—one of beauty, grace, and meaning."
He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of thoughts swirling in his head. He needed more information. He needed to understand whether this was just a figment of his imagination or something far more significant. Perhaps it was nothing more than a terrible nightmare, his mind playing tricks on him after a day of intense training. But a part of him, deep down, couldn't shake the feeling that this dream was different. That it meant something.
"I need to know more about this… power," he whispered to himself, his voice trembling slightly. "If it even is a power."
For now, he could only hope it was nothing more than a dream. Nothing more than his imagination running wild. But the images of the Kyūbi's destruction, Kushina's broken body, and the mysterious blond Hokage lingered in his mind, refusing to fade. And as he sat there in the darkness, the weight of uncertainty settled over him like a heavy shroud.
-{0}-
Fugaku's pov
Sakumo, Minato, and I sat in the dimly lit war room, a rough-hewn table between us scattered with maps and battle plans. The tension in the air was palpable, heavy with the weight of the decisions we were about to make. The distant rumble of battle could still be heard, the ground occasionally trembling beneath our feet, a constant reminder of the war that raged just beyond the walls. Around us, soldiers moved about with grim expressions, their morale dampened by the news that a jinchūriki had entered the fray.
Sakumo, ever the strategist, broke the silence first. "There's only one way I see Konoha coming out on top," he said, his voice low but firm, his fingers tracing a path across the worn-out map.
Minato, who had been quiet until then, nodded in agreement. His usual calm, almost boyish demeanor had hardened into something far more determined. "We have to take out the jinchūriki," he said, his blue eyes flicking up to meet mine with a seriousness that belied his youth.
I shook my head almost instinctively, leaning forward on the table. "No," I said, my tone sharper than I intended. "We wait for the Sannin. This is too dangerous for just the three of us. You know what kind of destruction a jinchūriki can cause—this is not something we can handle alone."
Sakumo's face was grim as he responded, his gaze steady, unwavering. "The Sannin are already engaged on another front. They're days away, if not longer, from getting here. By the time they arrive, the Land of Rice will have already fallen. We don't have the luxury of waiting."
His words sank in like a cold stone in my gut. I knew Sakumo was right. The war had been dragging on for what felt like an eternity, and the arrival of a jinchūriki—someone capable of wielding the power of a tailed beast—could tip the scales in the enemy's favor. Entire villages had been decimated by such power before, and the longer we waited, the more lives would be lost.
Minato, whose heart always leaned toward action, pressed on. "Fugaku, we're three S-rank jōnin. If anyone has a chance at stopping the jinchūriki, it's us."
I stared at him, my jaw tightening. The determination in his eyes was undeniable. I understood his frustration, his desire to end the bloodshed, but this wasn't just another skirmish. "Minato, don't let the title of 'Yellow Flash' get to your head. This isn't some rogue ninja we're talking about—it's a jinchūriki. You saw the destruction it caused earlier. This isn't a battle we can win by rushing in."
His eyes flared with a rare intensity as he leaned forward, almost challenging me. "And that's exactly why we need to act. I can't sit here and watch more people die, Fugaku. If we don't do something, it won't stop. Maybe I'm overestimating myself, but if this continues unchecked, the consequences will be catastrophic—for Konoha, for the entire region."
I stared at him for a moment, seeing the raw emotion in his eyes. He was younger than Sakumo and me, but he had already earned the respect of the entire village with his heroics. Minato wasn't reckless, but he was driven by an unwavering need to protect. His heart couldn't stand idle while people suffered, and I knew arguing with him further would be pointless.
I sighed heavily, running a hand through my hair as I weighed the risk. "So, what's the plan, then?" I asked, my voice resigned but steady. "We're going to try and assassinate the Two-Tails' jinchūriki?"
Sakumo gave a slow, deliberate nod. He had been quiet during our exchange, but now he looked up, meeting my gaze with a seriousness that told me he had already accepted what needed to be done. "It's the only way," he said. "We strike hard, and we strike fast. In and out. No hesitation."
I exhaled deeply, a heavy weight settling on my chest. It was the right choice—there was no doubt about that—but the thought of facing down a jinchūriki, with its immense power and the rage of a tailed beast behind it, was nothing short of daunting. We were all S-rank, elite shinobi, but the odds were far from in our favor.
Still, there was no room for fear now. If we didn't act, countless more lives would be lost.
I pushed away from the table, the wooden chair scraping against the stone floor as I stood. "After this," I said, my voice quieter now, filled with a weariness I hadn't allowed myself to acknowledge until that moment, "I want to go back to the village. I miss my wife and my son." My thoughts turned to Mikoto, and to Ryuichi—my son. I missed them more than words could convey.
Sakumo, who had known me for years, nodded in understanding, his expression softening. "I'll make sure that happens," he said, his voice a quiet promise.
Minato, too, gave a small nod, his own expression tinged with a sadness that mirrored my own. We all had people we wanted to return to, lives we wanted to resume once this endless conflict was over. But first, we had to survive what lay ahead.
I turned toward the exit, my mind already shifting to the mission at hand, though my heart remained with my family. As I walked away from the table, the sound of Minato and Sakumo discussing the finer details of our plan fading behind me, thoughts of Mikoto and Ryuichi filled my mind.
I pictured Mikoto's smile, her warmth, the way she always managed to bring light into even the darkest moments. And Ryuichi—my brilliant, stubborn son. I missed him more than I could ever express and every day that passed without seeing him felt like a small wound in my heart. I longed to see him master his jutsu, to watch him continue to grow into the shinobi I knew he would become.
"I miss you both so much," I thought to myself, my steps slowing for a brief moment as I neared the exit of the underground camp.
But there was no time for sentimentality now. The war wasn't over, and there was still much to be done. We would face the jinchūriki soon, and with any luck, we would survive long enough to see the village again. To see the people we loved.
With that thought, I steeled myself, pushing aside the fear and uncertainty that gnawed at the edges of my resolve. There was a mission to complete, and I couldn't afford to fail. Not now, not with so much at stake.
=chapter end=