Author Note: This chapter has over thirteen thousand words, the biggest chapter I have ever composed. Even then, you may feel like this was rushed. But…
This story… it makes me feel too hypnotised and I want to see how this develops.
Sometimes, I feel disheartened that despite being my best and favourite story, this is one of my least popular stories…
Anyway, this chapter will have a small story of Hashirama before Naruto's. This scene is really important for the story, so pay attention.
Let me know what you think because your words motivate me to write more!
Û~Û
The Crystal Sage
Civilians and Shinobi alike often ponder one chilling question:
"How would the world have been if shinobi didn't exist?"
Theories abound, as scattered and incomplete as shattered glass. Some paint a picture of unyielding chaos, anarchy reigning in every corner of the earth. Others claim the opposite—that peace would've thrived without the ever-present shadow of a blade hovering just behind the eyes of every man, woman, and child. But none can say for certain.
What we do know, however, is this: the existence of shinobi shaped the world in ways we can barely comprehend, and that shaping was often violent, brutal, and deeply psychological.
Take, for instance, the Clan Wars, a time when conflict ran so deep it soaked into the very soil beneath their feet. It was an era where survival meant more than mastering jutsu; it meant hardening your heart, numbing your soul. And it wasn't just soldiers—children were yanked from their cradles, molded into war tools before they even understood what killing meant. The elderly, far from being spared, were often dragged back into battles they thought they'd escaped, tortured and experimented on in ways no human mind should ever endure.
The horrors didn't end on the battlefield. Psychological trauma ran rampant—nightmares festered in the mind, paranoia took root, and madness grew in every corner. Families ripped apart, trust shattered like fragile porcelain. Fear ruled all. Children who were taught to laugh and play learned only to kill and survive. War wasn't just outside—it was inside them.
This is why Hashirama Senju—the Hashirama—is heralded as Kami no Shinobi. The god of shinobi. He didn't just lead, he created a miracle. He paused the endless cycle of bloodshed. For a time, peace—though fragile—had a heartbeat. But miracles never last forever. And peace... peace is but a whisper before the storm.
The wars didn't end. They only transformed.
During the reign of Hashirama's brother, Tobirama Senju, a monstrous new terror gripped the world—the First Shinobi War. It was a conflict so wide-reaching, so bloody, that the land itself seemed to tremble beneath the weight of bodies falling, of children becoming killers, of soldiers losing their humanity one piece at a time.
And it didn't stop there. Fourty years later—just fourty—the Second Shinobi War erupted like a festering wound left untreated. This one was darker, more vicious. Alliances meant nothing. Blood ran so deep, rivers of it might as well have been carved into the earth. Ten more years and the Third Shinobi War came, spreading like an infection no village could escape.
For the children of these wars, there was no escape from the psychological torment. Their very childhoods were ripped from them, leaving only broken husks where innocence had once lived. These weren't just killers—they were killing machines. They were war incarnate.
Kakashi Hatake—an infamous name. His mind, once bright and sharp, had been shattered by trauma. His father's suicide had been the first blow, but it was the war, the constant death, that twisted his psyche. By the time he'd lost everything that tethered him to reality, Kakashi became something else—cold, detached, a man who had forgotten how to live.
And Orochimaru… Orochimaru was different. The war didn't just break him. It reshaped him, twisted him into something grotesque. He became obsessed—driven by a hunger for immortality, his mind spiraling into darkness. He abandoned humanity, morality, and even sanity in his pursuit of knowledge that should have remained forbidden.
But these two names are just the surface of the psychological horror wrought by war.
Madara Uchiha. The name itself is a whisper of betrayal. A man who once fought to protect his clan and village, who stood beside Hashirama in their shared vision of peace—until something deeper, something darker, took hold. His betrayal wasn't just physical. It was emotional, a severing of bonds so deep it left scars on the very fabric of Konoha. What drives a man to turn on everything he loves? The answer lies not in strategy or politics but in the psychological scars carved into him by a lifetime of conflict.
Itachi Uchiha. A name that still sends chills through even the most hardened shinobi. A boy turned man turned killer—of his own clan, his own blood. To this day, many wonder why. Was it some twisted loyalty? A hidden agenda? No. It was the war. It was the endless cycle of killing that poisoned his mind, convincing him that the only way to gauge his strength was to kill their own family. It would make one stronger.
And then there's Naruto Uzumaki. The Fifth Hokage, the beacon of hope for a generation of shinobi. Yet, he too fell victim to the psychological weight of leadership and war. In the throes of rage, grief, and betrayal, Naruto committed unspeakable acts—killing innocent people in a frenzy, only to meet his end at the hands of those he once sought to protect.
What drives a hero to become a villain? What causes a leader to turn on his own people? The answer, as always, is found in the depths of the human mind, fractured by the unbearable strain of constant warfare.
And now, we are left with nothing but questions.
Was there something deeper behind these actions? What unseen force drives men to madness? Why does a shinobi, trained from birth to protect, turn on the very people he swore to defend? Why does the mind unravel, bit by bit, until all that remains is a twisted shell, barely human, driven by something far darker than mere ambition?
We may never have the answers.
And that uncertainty, that terrifying unknown, is perhaps the most horrifying reality of all.
(Adapted from "The Shadows of Leaf" by Inusa Yamanaka—a comprehensive study on the psychological deterioration of shinobi, for aspiring medic-nin.)
Û~Û
A thirteen-year-old Hashirama Senju leaped gracefully from a towering tree branch, his feet landing softly on the earth below. The forest whispered around him, the trees holding secrets older than any living being could remember. The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, yet the weight of his thoughts made the beauty of his surroundings seem distant.
For decades, the clans had been locked in a vicious cycle of bloodshed and revenge. Brother fought brother, families were torn apart, and the land was soaked with the sorrow of endless conflict. The laughter of children had been replaced by the cries of the dying. Hashirama had long ago made a solemn vow to his closest friend, Madara, that he would bring peace to this chaotic world. But that dream—so pure and hopeful—now seemed like a flickering candle in the deep, dark pit of war and hatred.
As he walked through the forest, Hashirama sighed deeply, feeling the weight of his responsibilities crushing his young shoulders. His father, Butsuma Senju, was no longer the warrior he once was, and the burden of leadership was gradually shifting to Hashirama. The young Senju could see the toll the endless fighting was taking on his younger brother, Tobirama. The once warm and playful boy was becoming colder, more distant. Tobirama's hatred for the Uchiha grew with each Senju death, and it frightened Hashirama to see such darkness taking root in his brother's heart.
"How many more will die before this madness ends?" Hashirama whispered to himself, his voice barely audible above the rustling leaves. The question hung in the air, unanswered, as if the very forest was mourning the countless lives lost to senseless violence.
As he continued his walk along the riverbank, something caught Hashirama's eye—a figure in the distance, moving slowly and deliberately. A man, dressed in simple monk robes, was walking by the water, his hands clasped in front of him, his head bowed in silent contemplation.
In this era, monks were revered, their wisdom and spiritual power respected by all, regardless of clan or allegiance. Hashirama felt a flicker of hope light up in his chest. Perhaps this man could offer him guidance, or at the very least, a blessing that might ease the heavy burden he carried.
Hashirama approached the monk cautiously, not wanting to disturb his meditation. The man had settled under a large, ancient tree, its branches spreading wide like a protective canopy. Hashirama decided to wait, taking a seat under a nearby tree, where he could observe the monk without intruding on his peace.
Hours passed. The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the forest floor. The world seemed to hold its breath as the monk remained perfectly still, deep in his meditation. Hashirama's legs grew numb, but he didn't move. He knew the value of patience, and something deep inside told him that this encounter was important.
As the light began to fade, a rustling sound broke the silence. Hashirama's keen senses alerted him to danger before he even saw it—a snake, its scales gleaming ominously in the dim light, slithered out from the underbrush. It moved with eerie purpose, winding its way toward the monk. Hashirama's heart pounded in his chest as he watched the snake coil itself around the man's still form.
He froze. His breath caught in his throat. The snake's distinctive pattern marked it as one of the deadliest in the region, and even with his advanced healing abilities, Hashirama knew that its venom was almost certainly fatal.
He couldn't just stand by and watch the man die. But he also couldn't disturb the monk's meditation. What if this was a test of his resolve, his commitment to peace? Hashirama's mind raced as he tried to figure out what to do.
Finally, with the decision made, Hashirama moved with the careful precision that only years of training could instill. He crept toward the monk, his movements slow and deliberate. Every muscle in his body was tense as he reached out and gently took hold of the snake. The reptile's cold scales slid against his skin as he carefully uncoiled it from the monk's body. Just as he thought he was in the clear, the snake turned its head and struck.
Hashirama felt a sharp, burning pain as the snake's fangs sank into his hand. His instinct was to cry out, but he clenched his jaw, suppressing the scream that threatened to escape. He had to be quiet. He couldn't disturb the monk. With the last of his strength, he removed the snake's fangs and released it back into the wild, watching as it disappeared into the underbrush.
He stared at the bite marks on his hand, already beginning to swell and darken. Hashirama knew he needed to get the venom out, but he also didn't want to leave. What if the monk woke up and left before he could receive a blessing? The pain in his hand was unbearable, yet he remained seated, determined to see this through.
Time seemed to stretch on forever. The forest grew darker, and the sounds of the night began to creep in—owls hooting, leaves rustling, the distant howl of a wolf. Hashirama's vision blurred, and his head began to swim, but he held on, clinging to consciousness with sheer willpower.
Finally, just when he thought he couldn't endure another moment, the monk stirred. Slowly, as if waking from a deep sleep, the man opened his eyes and looked directly at Hashirama.
The young Senju's heart skipped a beat. He quickly bowed his head, gathering his strength to speak.
"Honored monk," Hashirama began, his voice trembling slightly, "I humbly ask for your blessing."
The monk's gaze softened as he took in the sight of the young boy before him, trembling with pain but still holding himself with dignity. The man smiled gently, a look of understanding in his eyes.
"Why are you trembling, young one?" the monk asked, his voice calm and soothing.
"It's nothing, honored monk," Hashirama replied quickly, trying to mask the pain. But the monk's gaze didn't waver, and Hashirama knew he couldn't hide the truth. "I was bitten by a snake… but it's okay, we have healers back at the clan compound."
The monk's eyes narrowed slightly as he reached into his robes and pulled out a small jar of ointment. Without a word, he took Hashirama's hand in his own and gently applied the ointment to the bite. The effect was immediate—Hashirama felt the burning pain begin to fade, the swelling recede, and the discolored skin return to its normal hue. He stared at his hand in shock, unable to believe what he was seeing.
"Thank you… thank you so much," Hashirama stammered, his voice full of gratitude. "I will forever be grateful for your kindness."
The monk smiled again and nodded. "Tell me, boy, what is your name?"
Hashirama hesitated for a moment before answering. In these times of war, it wasn't wise to reveal one's clan name to a stranger, but something told him this man could be trusted. "My name is Hashirama… Hashirama Senju."
The monk's expression didn't change, but there was a knowing glint in his eyes. "You have a good heart, Hashirama Senju. Tell me, what is it that you desire most in this world?"
Hashirama's thoughts returned to the endless war, the suffering of his people, the hatred that consumed the hearts of even the youngest children. He took a deep breath and spoke from his soul.
"I want to end the war," Hashirama said, his voice filled with conviction. "I want to stop the suffering, the hatred, the destruction. I want the world to be like this forest—calm, still, peaceful. I want people to live in harmony, like these trees, helping one another and growing strong together."
The monk regarded him for a long moment, his expression inscrutable. Then, slowly, he smiled—a smile full of warmth and wisdom.
"That, young man, is the goal of our God," the monk said softly. "I look forward to the day when you or your descendants shall establish the peace you seek. Farewell, Hashirama Senju." With that, the monk rose to his feet and began to walk away, his figure gradually fading into the shadows of the forest.
Hashirama watched him go, a sense of awe and inspiration swelling in his chest. He looked down at his hand once more, still marveling at the miraculous healing. Who was that man? A monk, certainly, but there was something more… something otherworldly about him. Hashirama felt as if he had been touched by something divine. Like a sage…
"Man, I wish I could be a sage," Hashirama muttered to himself, half-jokingly, as he stared at the spot where the monk had disappeared.
He had no idea that someone, somewhere, had heard his words and whispered, "So be it."
Weeks later, as the flames of war once again engulfed the battlefield, Hashirama Senju found himself in the midst of a heated clash between the Uchiha and the Senju. The air was thick with the scent of blood and the cries of the wounded, but something within him had changed. In a moment of desperation, Hashirama reached deep into his soul, and something new, something extraordinary, awakened within him.
Wood Release.
The battlefield was transformed as towering trees erupted from the earth, their roots and branches weaving through the chaos, shielding his enemies. For a moment, both sides halted their attacks, stunned by the sudden appearance of a living forest in the midst of their battle. The trees moved with a life of their own, creating barriers, lifting fallen comrades, and even disarming the most skilled of warriors.
Hashirama stood at the center of this miracle, his heart pounding in his chest as he realized what he had done. He hadn't just commanded the earth; he had shaped it, nurtured it, brought it to life. The raw, destructive power that had defined the ninja world for so long now seemed insignificant compared to the creation that had just emerged from within him.
The Uchiha on the battlefield—eyes wide, hands still clutching their weapons—exchanged confused glances. Their Sharingan, those legendary eyes capable of reading every movement, seemed almost useless against this unpredictable, almost spiritual force. This wasn't a jutsu that had been taught in any scroll or passed down by any elder. It was something entirely new, something beyond the realm of known shinobi arts.
On the Senju side, there was an equal mix of awe and fear. They had seen Hashirama's prowess before, but this? This was beyond anything they could have imagined. Their young leader, barely into his teens, had just changed the course of the battle—and perhaps the war itself.
As the last echoes of the clash faded into the forest's newfound silence, Hashirama lowered his hands, feeling the strain in his body. But it wasn't the physical exhaustion that made him tremble. It was the realization of what he had just unleashed.
"What… what is this?" Hashirama murmured, staring at his hands as if they belonged to someone else. The power he had just displayed felt as alien as it was exhilarating. It was unlike anything he had ever seen or heard of before. Not even the most ancient and powerful clans had ever wielded such a force.
Madara Uchiha, standing among his clan, eyed Hashirama with a mix of suspicion and newfound respect. He was a boy, yes, but a boy who had just done something extraordinary. Something that no one, not even Madara with his feared Sharingan, could understand.
"Is this your doing, Hashirama?" Madara finally called out, his voice carrying across the battlefield. It wasn't a challenge—more a question, a demand for an explanation. The Uchiha leader wasn't used to feeling outmatched, least of all by someone his own age.
Hashirama met Madara's gaze, the flicker of uncertainty in his own eyes. "I… I don't know," he admitted, his voice filled with genuine confusion. "It just… happened."
The trees, as if responding to Hashirama's uncertainty, began to retract, their roots burrowing back into the ground, their branches slowly lowering until the battlefield was clear once again. The forest seemed to sigh, as if content to return to its natural state, leaving behind only the stunned shinobi and the memories of the miracle they had just witnessed.
As the Senju and Uchiha forces slowly retreated, each side unwilling to reignite the battle after such a display, Hashirama's mind was racing. The power he had unleashed—it wasn't just a tool of war. It was something much more. Something that could be used to build, to create, to protect.
The words of the monk echoed in his mind: "That's the goal of our God, young man. I wait to see the day when you or your descendants shall establish peace."
Was this the answer? Had that strange, mysterious monk somehow planted the seed of this power within him? And if so, what was he supposed to do with it?
Days turned into weeks, and Hashirama returned to the Senju compound with a mind full of questions. He trained relentlessly, pushing this new ability to its limits, trying to understand its nature. Every time he called forth the wood, he felt that same strange connection—something spiritual, something alive. It was as if the earth itself was responding to his call, bending to his will but also guiding him, teaching him.
As the years passed, Hashirama's mastery over the Wood Release grew. His reputation spread far and wide, and he became known not just as a powerful shinobi, but as a symbol of hope. The dream he had shared with Madara—to create a world where children didn't have to grow up surrounded by death and hatred—no longer seemed so distant.
Then, one fateful day, as he stood on the precipice of battle once more, Hashirama made a decision that would change the course of history. He and Madara would unite their clans. They would build something new, something that had never been done before—a village, a place where people of all clans could live together in peace. A village hidden in the leaves.
And so, the Village Hidden in the Leaves was born, a testament to Hashirama's vision and his newfound power. The warring clans finally put down their weapons, and for the first time in generations, there was hope for a future free from bloodshed.
Yet, even as the village grew and flourished, Hashirama never forgot that day in the forest. He never forgot the monk who had appeared out of nowhere, who had spoken of peace and the will of God. And he never forgot the strange, almost divine power that had awakened within him.
As the years went by, Hashirama would often find himself musing aloud, a thoughtful smile on his face. "Was it the monk?" he would ask himself, wondering if the man had been more than he appeared. Perhaps he was a sage, or even something beyond that—a messenger of the divine, sent to guide him on his path.
Nobody knew the truth, not even Hashirama himself. But as he looked out over the village he had built, the peaceful lives he had helped create, he couldn't help but feel that the monk's words had been more than just a blessing. They had been a prophecy.
And somewhere, in a place beyond the reach of men, a voice whispered, "Perhaps,"
Thus, the legacy of Hashirama Senju was born—not just as a warrior, but as a sage, a leader, and a man who had touched the divine.
Û~Û
Team Ten stood in the dimly lit office, the flickering candlelight casting long, ominous shadows on the walls as they faced the formidable figure of the Third Hokage. The air was thick with tension, an invisible weight pressing down on them as Hiruzen Sarutobi regarded them with a gaze that seemed to pierce through to their very souls.
"So," Hiruzen finally spoke, his voice low and gravelly, breaking the heavy silence that had settled over the room. "You safely delivered the scroll to the Fire Lord, but on your way back, you were attacked by a group of Cloud Ninja. Is that correct?"
Kushina, her vibrant red hair glinting eerily in the firelight, nodded solemnly. "Yes, Lord Hokage. They ambushed us, clearly intending to kill us and steal the scroll. We engaged them in combat, but... they were stronger than we anticipated, and they began to overwhelm us." Her voice faltered slightly, the memory of the battle still fresh and raw in her mind. "That's when..."
She hesitated, her eyes flicking briefly to the small figure standing at her side, a child who seemed far too young to bear the weight of the horrors he had witnessed. "That's when Naruto stepped in," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "He used... the Reaper Death Seal."
The words hung in the air like a death knell, sending a shiver down the spines of everyone present. Cholo Akimichi and Yugao Uzuki, who stood flanking Kushina, exchanged nervous glances, their faces pale with fear. They could still see the lifeless bodies of the Cloud Ninja in their minds, their souls torn from their bodies by a power so dark and terrible that it defied understanding.
Hiruzen's eyes narrowed, his gaze shifting to Naruto. "Is it true?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.
Cholo and Yugao both nodded, the memory of the event still fresh and terrifying. "It's true, Lord Hokage," Yugao said quietly, her voice trembling slightly. "Naruto... he killed them all."
Hiruzen's gaze bore into Naruto, trying to fathom the unfathomable. The boy before him was no ordinary child. His eyes, once bright and full of youthful innocence, were now hollow, empty voids that seemed to swallow the light. There was something deeply unsettling about him, something that sent a chill down Hiruzen's spine.
"Explain," the Hokage commanded, his voice firm.
Naruto met his gaze with a calm that belied his age, his expression unreadable. "I sneak a lot into my dad's study," he said simply, his voice devoid of emotion.
Minato, who had been standing silently beside Kushina, frowned, his eyes narrowing. "I don't know how to use that technique without dying," he interjected, his tone sharp with concern.
Naruto turned to his father, his expression inscrutable. "That's because you're not an Uzumaki," he replied bluntly. "In order to use it properly, you must be an Uzumaki. You need to know the correct hand seal too."
Hiruzen's eyes narrowed further. "Which is?" he pressed.
"It has no name," Naruto replied with a weary sigh, as if explaining something painfully obvious. "It's a mixture of the snake, toad, and slug hand signs."
"Interesting," Minato mused, though his expression remained troubled.
Hiruzen's gaze sharpened. "Where did you learn it?"
Naruto hesitated for a brief moment before answering, "The Uzumaki temple."
"Oh," Kushina murmured, a flicker of understanding crossing her face. "That makes sense."
But Hiruzen wasn't satisfied. "And how did you know about the temple, Naruto?" he asked, his tone gentle but probing.
Naruto's gaze remained steady, his voice even as he replied, "I found it one day while I was training in the woods. I got lost and stumbled upon it."
Hiruzen exchanged a glance with Minato, his expression darkening with concern. The boy's knowledge was too vast, his power too great for someone his age. Something wasn't right, and the old Hokage's instincts told him that there was more to this than met the eye.
"I think we should take precautions," Hiruzen said finally, his tone grim. "Just in case."
Kushina's eyes widened in alarm. "Lord Hokage, that's unnecessary! Naruto would never—"
"It's alright, Mom," Naruto interrupted calmly, placing a small hand on her arm to reassure her. "Let them check."
Kushina looked at him in surprise, but Naruto's expression was unyielding, and she reluctantly fell silent. Hiruzen nodded, a flicker of relief passing over his features.
"Inoichi," Hiruzen called out, and moments later, the head of the Yamanaka Clan entered the room, his expression as stoic as ever.
"Lord Hokage," Inoichi greeted, bowing respectfully.
"I need you to perform a mind walk on Naruto," Hiruzen instructed. "We need to ensure that there's nothing... unnatural going on."
Inoichi's gaze flicked to Naruto, a hint of hesitation in his eyes. But Naruto remained calm, even as Inoichi placed his hands on either side of the boy's head, closing his eyes in concentration.
"Mind Body Transmission Jutsu," Inoichi murmured, his voice low and focused.
For a moment, the room was filled with an oppressive silence, everyone holding their breath as Inoichi delved into Naruto's mind. Time seemed to stretch, the seconds ticking by with agonizing slowness.
Then, Inoichi's eyes snapped open, and he stepped back, releasing Naruto. His expression was calm, almost serene, as he turned to face the Hokage.
"Everything is normal," Inoichi reported. "There's nothing suspicious or unnatural in his mind."
Hiruzen frowned, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized Naruto once more. But there was nothing to be found—no signs of deception, no hints of darkness lurking beneath the surface. Naruto, however, had blocked Inoichi from seeing too much with an advanced genjutsu.
"Very well," Hiruzen said at last, though his tone was still heavy with doubt. "You're dismissed. But Minato, Kushina—I want you to keep a close eye on him."
Minato nodded solemnly. "We will, Lord Hokage."
With that, the tension in the room seemed to dissipate slightly, though an undercurrent of unease still lingered in the air.
Cholo, eager to lighten the mood, cleared his throat and spoke up. "How about we go to a restaurant and celebrate? Our first C-rank mission is over, after all."
Naruto's hollow eyes flickered with a brief, almost imperceptible light of interest. "Sure," he agreed, his voice devoid of the usual childlike enthusiasm but accepting nonetheless.
Yugao nodded as well, though her expression remained troubled. As they all left the Hokage's office, the shadows of doubt and fear trailed after them, clinging to the edges of their thoughts like a persistent, creeping darkness.
Naruto followed them silently, his mind already racing with thoughts of what he would have to do next. The game of resetting time, of trying and failing, of watching them all die again and again—it wasn't over. Not yet.
But for now, he would play along, pretending to be the boy they thought he was, hiding the hollow darkness that gnawed at his soul.
And as they stepped out into the light of day, the shadows that had gathered in his heart deepened, growing darker with each passing moment.
oOo
Everything that happened after his awakening is not noteworthy at all, at least not by ordinary standards. But in Naruto's world, ordinary was a lie—a mask to cover the darkness that thrummed beneath the surface. Just like every other time, he was kept under a watchful gaze, as if he was something dangerous, something unstable. His parents, distant yet protective, always seemed to linger in the background, their eyes heavy with unease. They followed him like shadows, each footstep echoing their caution. His mother's smile had grown taut, barely reaching her eyes, and his father's hand would tense whenever Naruto drew too near. They loved him still, but there was something different now. They feared him.
The Uzumaki temple, hidden deep within the forest, ancient and burdened with secrets long forgotten by most, was checked to verify his claims. No one truly understood what Naruto had seen there. They wanted to believe it was a lie, or a mistake, anything but the truth he carried in his eyes. The elders had trudged to the temple with solemn steps, the weight of centuries bearing down on them. They had found nothing out of place, at least nothing that confirmed or denied what Naruto had spoken of. But Naruto knew better. He had made sure of it. He had arranged it all, carefully and quietly, like a prayer whispered into the void. There were no problems there.
Yet, an unspoken tension thickened in the air. Yuagō and Cholo, once close companions in his journey, no longer seemed comfortable around him. Their glances, once full of camaraderie, had turned into something colder, something suspicious. They would stiffen whenever Naruto entered the room, their conversations growing hushed and fragmented in his presence. The warmth between them was fading, replaced by the chill of fear. But Naruto wasn't trying to make friends anymore. The idea seemed absurd to him now. Friends were distractions. Friends would die if they stayed too close.
He was still determined to save everyone. To him, that was all that mattered. The darkness that hovered around him was nothing compared to the light he believed he could bring to the world. He would save them all, even if he had to do it alone.
But something was shifting. Deep inside him, beneath the layers of stubborn resolve, something was fraying. The line between who he was and what he was becoming was starting to blur. His once brilliant determination felt brittle, like glass ready to shatter.
Naruto could feel it, in the pit of his stomach, in the marrow of his bones. He was losing it.
The nights were the worst. They stretched on endlessly, pulling at his mind like invisible hands clawing at his thoughts. His dreams were no longer his own. They were filled with whispers, voices that he didn't recognize, yet seemed achingly familiar. They called to him, urging him deeper into the darkness that had always lingered just beyond the edge of his perception. And with each passing night, he found it harder to resist.
"Naruto…" a voice would murmur in his sleep, soft, almost affectionate. But it was not a voice that belonged to anyone he knew. "You can't save them all. You can barely save yourself."
He would wake up gasping, drenched in sweat, his heart pounding like a drumbeat in the stillness of the night. But the worst part was not the nightmares—it was the silence that followed. The silence was thick, suffocating, and more terrifying than the whispers ever could be.
Naruto clenched his fists, his knuckles white as the skin stretched taut over bone. He couldn't afford to lose control. Not now. Not when everything depended on him. He had to be strong. He had to be the savior they needed, even if it meant walking through the shadows alone.
Yet, in the back of his mind, a nagging question refused to let go.
'Who will save you, Naruto?'
But Naruto would not answer. Not now. The darkness was growing, but so was his resolve. And for now, that was enough.
At least, he hoped it was enough.
oOo
The atmosphere in the village had changed since Team Ten's first mission. Each new assignment, each new mission, felt like a slow descent into darkness. C-rank missions came and went, each one a test of endurance rather than skill. Escorting merchants across treacherous paths, delivering emergency supplies to distant outposts—these were their daily tasks. For most shinobi, these missions were nothing more than a routine, a way to pass the time until something more significant came along.
But for Naruto, it was something else entirely.
Chōlo, the ever-optimistic teammate with an insatiable appetite, made it a point to try the local delicacies in every village they passed through. His enthusiasm never waned, not even after the most harrowing of encounters. Yugao, on the other hand, was more reserved, her eyes always scanning the surroundings for any sign of danger, her senses honed and sharp.
Naruto, however, was a silent force. He was there, and yet somehow, he wasn't. His red hair, a stark contrast against the muted greens and browns of their surroundings, served as a reminder that he didn't quite belong, that he was something different, something 'other'. The missions, though seemingly mundane, were mere backdrops to the storm brewing within him, the ever-present weight of his knowledge pressing down on him with each passing day.
Kushina, their leader and Naruto's mother, watched him closely. She had been instructed to report to the Hokage any unusual behavior, anything that might hint at the darkness that Hiruzen suspected lurked within her son. But as much as she watched, she found nothing to report. Naruto was quiet, perhaps too quiet for a boy his age, but there was nothing overtly suspicious, nothing that would raise alarms. Yet, the unease gnawed at her, a mother's intuition telling her that something was wrong, even if she couldn't see it.
After what seemed like an eternity of these smaller missions, Hiruzen finally decided that Team Ten was ready for something more substantial, something that would push them further. A B-rank mission. It was a step up, a recognition of their growing abilities.
But Naruto knew what this mission truly was. He had seen it all before, in another timeline, another life. He knew what was coming. The day when they would all die, when the world would shatter around him once more. But this time, he would not allow it. He had made a vow, one that he would keep no matter the cost.
The mission was simple on the surface: clear out a group of bandits who had set up camp near one of Konoha's medical outposts. Bandits. The word was almost laughable. Naruto knew the truth—these were no mere bandits, but high-level shinobi disguised as such, laying a trap for any who dared to confront them. He had to kill them all. There was no other way.
Kushina had argued with the Hokage, her voice laced with worry. "Lord Hokage, my team is too young for this. I can handle this mission on my own; there's no need to involve them."
Hiruzen, ever the calm and calculated leader, had reminded her of Naruto's capabilities. "Your son cleared an entire group of enemy ninja in a minute, Kushina. They're ready."
"No, they aren't!"
"They are," Hiruzen pressed.
Reluctantly, Kushina agreed, though the unease never left her.
The following day, they set out. The journey was long, the hours stretching into what felt like days. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows as they traveled, the darkness encroaching upon them like a living entity. By the time they reached the camp, night had fully fallen, and the world was shrouded in an oppressive, inky blackness.
The 'bandits' were asleep, their guard down, lulled into a false sense of security by the quiet night. Kushina was about to give the order to attack when Naruto stepped forward, his eyes cold and determined.
"Stop," he said.
"What?" Kushina whispered, confusion and worry etched on her face.
Yuagō's grip on her katana loosened. Cholo frowned.
"I'll do it," Naruto said quietly, his voice devoid of emotion. Before anyone could react, he stepped into the camp, his movements deliberate and confident.
Chōlo and Yugao gasped, their eyes wide with shock. Kushina's heart pounded in her chest as she watched her son walk straight into the enemy's lair. "Naruto, wait—" she began, but it was too late.
"Now!" Someone yelled.
The bandits—no, the shinobi—were quick to react. They surrounded Naruto in an instant, their weapons drawn, confusion etched on their faces as they took in the sight of the small boy standing in their midst. Where was Kushina Uzumaki, the Jinchuriki they were supposed to capture? Why was this child here instead?
Before they could voice their questions, IT happened.
Chakra chains, thick and glowing with a malevolent energy, shot out from Naruto's body, moving with a speed and precision that defied belief. The chains impaled the shinobi, their bodies jerking as the life was drained from them. There was no time for them to scream, no time to react. In seconds, they were all dead, their bodies crumpling to the ground in a heap.
Kushina, Chōlo, and Yugao ran into the camp, their eyes wide with horror and disbelief. The stench of blood filled the air, thick and suffocating. Kushina grabbed Naruto by the shoulders, her voice trembling. "Naruto! When did you—how did you unlock your Chakra Chains?"
Naruto looked up at her with those same hollow eyes, eyes that seemed far too old for a child so young. "I learned it from one of the books in the Uzumaki temple," he said simply, as if discussing the weather.
Kushina stared at him, her mind racing. How could a child so young possess such power? She had always known that Naruto was special, but this... this was something else entirely. She sighed heavily, her heart aching with a mixture of fear and sorrow.
"Alright," she said finally, her voice soft. "Check the tents. Gather any information you can find. We'll leave at dawn."
As they moved to carry out her orders, Kushina couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. The darkness that surrounded Naruto was growing, consuming him bit by bit, and she feared that soon, there would be nothing left of the boy she had once known.
But for now, all she could do was watch, and wait, and hope that somehow, they would all survive the horrors that lay ahead.
Naruto knew where and when his father and his team were going to be killed. He had no intention of leaving his mother and his teammates alone here. So, creating a clone he left for his next mission.
His current self could utilise high level techniques. He smirked. He can do this this time.
oOo
The battlefield was alive with chaos, the air thick with the clash of steel, the crackle of chakra, and the shouts of desperate men. Blood splattered the earth, and the stench of sweat and fear hung like a heavy mist. Amidst this deadly dance, Team Minato fought with a fury born of necessity, their backs to the wall, surrounded by Kiri nin who wielded their bloodline abilities with lethal precision.
Minato's mind raced as he threw a kunai with deadly accuracy, teleporting in a flash of yellow light to dispatch another enemy. His breath came in controlled gasps, his senses on high alert. But even with all his skills, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. The enemy was too well-prepared, their numbers too great. It was as if they had been waiting for them, as if this had all been orchestrated from the start.
Then, out of the shadows, a figure emerged—a tall, serpentine man with pale skin and malevolent eyes that glinted with dark amusement. Orochimaru. But something about him was... off.
Rin gasped, her hands glowing with the green light of healing chakra as she worked feverishly to close a wound on Obito's side. "Orochimaru?! What is he doing here?" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with panic.
Kakashi's eyes narrowed as he parried a blow from a Kiri nin, his mind working through the possibilities. "I don't know, but we can't trust him!" he warned, his voice strained with the effort of combat.
But Orochimaru—no, Naruto in disguise—moved with a grace and power that belied his supposed intentions. With swift, brutal efficiency, he began to decimate the Kiri nin, his strikes precise and merciless. The enemies fell before him like wheat before the scythe, their blood staining the ground as he cut through them with a cold, calculated ferocity.
Minato's eyes widened in shock as he watched the carnage unfold. Orochimaru was many things—cunning, and cruel—but this was different. This was something more. Something terrifying. "Orochimaru! What are you doing here?" Minato demanded, his voice cutting through the din of battle. "I thought you were stationed in the borders!"
Naruto, still wearing Orochimaru's face, turned to him, his lips curling into a smirk. "I had reasons to believe this was a trap," he replied smoothly, his voice carrying just the right amount of venom and nonchalance to match the legendary Sannin's tone.
Minato hesitated for a fraction of a second, his instincts warring with the logic presented before him. But there was no time to question, no time to analyze. The battle raged on, and for now, Orochimaru's presence seemed more a boon than a threat.
With renewed resolve, Minato nodded. "Alright. Let's finish this!"
The tide of battle turned swiftly in their favor. With Orochimaru's—Naruto's—lethal assistance, the Kiri nin were soon overwhelmed. Kakashi, Obito, and Rin fought with everything they had, their exhaustion forgotten in the face of impending victory. The enemy was on the ropes, their numbers dwindling rapidly.
Naruto fought just like Orochimaru, using the fake Kusanagi and snake attacks. The Kiri ninja with Ice Bloodlimit were troublesome. Naruto couldn't use all his techniques as Orochimaru, but the Snake Sannin knew a lot of techniques— so people should not be suspicious if he uses too many techniques. However, Naruto was unable to move like before, the sudden shift of physique is quite bothersome. But, it wasn't like he was fighting a Kage level shinobi here.
Minato was also using all the techniques he knew.
Minato was proficient with Rasengan; but Hiraishin— no. He was still developing it. At this level, he was almost as good as Tobirama, not better.
Kakashi was doing well protecting Rin who was healing Obito.
Naruto grinned, he can do this.
And they were winning.
Naruto was really happy. Never had he come so close to saving them. If they torture him—fine. That's acceptable.
But just as they were about to deliver the final blow, the atmosphere shifted. A presence, dark and powerful, surged into the battlefield, making the very air hum with electricity. The ground trembled beneath their feet as a towering figure appeared, flanked by an army of shinobi dressed in the distinct garb of Kumo.
"Kiri has formed a pact !" Kakashi yelled.
It was Ay, the Fourth Raikage, and his brother, Killer Bee. Their arrival was like a storm, their chakra crackling with lightning and they were oppressive.
Minato barely had time to react as Ay blitzed across the battlefield, his speed blurring the line between reality and nightmare. He spotted 'Orochimaru'. 'He isn't supposed to be here! Oh well, I'll put him down first!'
Naruto ducked quickly, however, he had momentarily forgotten that he was above six feet now, the Raikage's massive hand struck him on the nape with the force of a thunderclap.
"Ghh!" Naruto's body jolted with the impact, his disguise flickering like a dying flame. The illusion of Orochimaru dissolved in an instant, revealing his true form—small, fragile, and far too young for the horrors of this war. His red hair, now free from the transformation, whipped in the wind as he staggered forward, his vision blurring.
"A child?" Killer Bee frowned as he parried Minato's attacks.
"Naruto?!" Minato's voice was a mixture of shock and terror as he watched his son collapse, the color draining from his face. But there was no time to react, no time to reach out. The Raikage and his brother launched their assault with deadly precision, forcing Minato to defend himself and his team.
"Naruto…!" Rin screamed.
Kakashi's heart raced as he saw Naruto fall, his mind screaming for him to do something, but he was already in motion, parrying another blow aimed at Rin. The battlefield had become a chaotic swirl of violence, and they were all caught in its deadly current.
Just then, the reinforcements arrived. But Naruto had already vanished into the canyan.
As Naruto fell, his world became a tunnel of darkness, the sounds of battle fading into a dull roar. He tried desperately to weave hand signs, to summon the chakra that had always been his salvation. But his nerves were on fire, his body betraying him in this crucial moment.
"No... no, no, no...," Naruto's thoughts spiralled into panic as he plummeted into the abyss below. The ground gave way beneath him, and he was swallowed by the earth, his body tumbling into the black void.
The last thing he felt was the searing pain as he hit the cold, hard ground. A sickening crunch echoed through the cavernous space as his spine gave way under the force of the impact. Darkness closed in, his vision narrowing to a single point of light before it too was snuffed out.
Yet, in those final moments before consciousness slipped away, Naruto saw something—a silhouette, odd and unique, moving toward him through the shadows
And then, there was nothing.
oOo
The reinforcements had arrived shortly after. The Raikage and his troops retreated. They were expecting reinforcements but it appeared they weren't expecting this much.
The Leaf Shinobi looked for Naruto in the canyon, there was blood but they never found the body.
They couldn't continue the search because there was a war going on and they had an unstable Jinchuriki to handle.
Minato was injured stopping a six-tailed Kyuubi empowered crazy Kushina.
Leaf was in a great trouble right now— Kiri was getting too cocky and Kumo was winning. Iwa was in a good position.
oOo
When Naruto slowly regained consciousness, his eyelids fluttered open to a dimly lit space. His senses were sluggish, his body heavy as if weighed down by an unseen force. As his vision cleared, he saw the rough, stone walls surrounding him, the cool, musty air telling him he was in a cave. A single candle flickered nearby, casting long shadows that danced on the walls, its flame wavering as if it too were uncertain of its place in the darkness.
Naruto's thoughts were sluggish, tangled in confusion. Theoretically, he should be dead. The memory of his fall, the brutal impact, the sensation of his spine snapping—all these memories told him that his time should have ended. And yet, here he was, alive, breathing, in a cave that seemed to exist in a world apart from the battlefield.
His hands moved instinctively, inspecting his body. He was bandaged, the coarse fabric wrapped tightly around his torso, arms, and legs. Pain lanced through him as he shifted, a reminder of the injuries he had sustained, but it was dulled, distant. He would live. But the question remained: who had saved him?
With a groan, Naruto pushed himself up, though every muscle protested the movement. He had people to save, a world to change. He couldn't afford to lie here and do nothing. He had to—
"Stop."
The voice was soft, yet it carried an undeniable weight, like a whisper carried on the wind that stills everything in its path. Naruto froze, his heart pounding as he scanned the cave, his instincts on high alert. "Show yourself!" he demanded, his voice hoarse, yet filled with a desperate urgency.
From the shadows, a figure emerged, stepping into the faint light of the candle. The man who stood before Naruto was serene, his presence calming and almost ethereal. His head was smooth, reflecting the candle's gentle glow, and his face was calm, lined with wisdom that seemed ancient. His eyes were kind, deep pools of compassion that held the weight of countless experiences, yet remained untouched by them. He wore simple robes of faded saffron, the fabric flowing loosely around his tall, lean frame. The man looked like he had walked straight out of a legend, a vision of peace amidst a world drenched in chaos.
"You are a monk? Why are you here?" Naruto's voice wavered with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. This man was unlike anyone he had ever met. He seemed almost out of place, as if he belonged to another time, another world.
The monk smiled gently, his expression radiating warmth. "I found you, critically injured, at the bottom of a deep chasm. You were barely alive."
"Why would you help me?" Monk or not, Naruto would kill this person if he had any ulterior intentions.
"It is natural for a traveller to help another," the monk replied as it was obvious.
"Huh?" Naruto was confused for a moment before he realised that it was metaphorical. "Oh, I see." Then he had another thought. "How did you heal me?. My injuries were not…normal and healable. I was on the brink of death." Not even the Uzumaki genes could save me.
The monk smiled mysteriously. "Let's just say I know some handy medical arts. I also used a special fruit."
"Which is?" Naruto pressed.
"Shinjuu." He replied, not missing a beat.
Naruto blinked. The last time he saw a… the one and only Shinjuu tree was in Uzu and… it was dead.
"Stop lying," Naruto flatly said. "The last Shinjuu tree is dead. It died years ago."
"Really?" The monk raised an eyebrow. He gestured to Naruto's side of the bed. Naruto turned.
It was a white fruit sliced in three pieces. Naruto took it in his hands and took a bite. Then, he chewed it. The taste hit his tongue. "It's…" Naruto stammered. "Divine"
The monk chuckled as he sat beside Naruto. "Long ago, In my time, before THEY came, there had been better fruits."
Naruto narrowed his eyes. This person has no chakra— every living being MUST have chakra. He was not… "You aren't a human, are you?"
The man smiled. "I am a human, a very normal human at that,"
The first user of chakra was born about a millennia ago, therefore… "You're really a monk, right? A Sage?" Naruto guessed. There have been some people who defied natural order with pure knowledge directly from the God.
"No," the man outright denied it.
Naruto would have questioned further, but he had no time. "How long was I out for?"
"It has been a month since then," the monk said, his tone carrying the weight of the truth.
Naruto's eyes widened, disbelief and shock flooding his senses. "A month?" he gasped, his mind reeling. A month? How could that be? Then, as if in response, a flood of memories rushed through him—his clone's final moments, the fleeting images of his team's return without him. The clone had been dispelled within hours of his fall. The village, his family—they all believed he was dead. Thankfully his parents were alive.
Panic surged through him, and Naruto tried to rise again, but the monk gently pressed him back down, a calming hand on his shoulder. "You are not fully healed yet," the monk cautioned, his voice like a soothing balm to Naruto's frayed nerves.
"I don't care!" Naruto's voice cracked with frustration, his eyes burning with determination. "I have people I need to save! Bad people are out there, hurting them, and I can't just sit here and do nothing!"
The monk's eyes softened with understanding. "You wish to save others," he said quietly. "But are you willing to kill to do so?"
Naruto's breath caught in his throat. The monk's question hung in the air, heavy and unyielding. He had no answer, no words to give. The silence that followed was telling enough.
The monk sighed softly, his gaze steady and unwavering. "Hatred is a dangerous thing, young one," he began, his voice carrying the weight of countless lifetimes. "It consumes, it destroys. It burns through the soul like a wildfire, leaving nothing but ashes in its wake."
Naruto's fists clenched, his knuckles white with the force of his emotions. "There's no other way," he muttered, his voice low, tinged with bitterness. "The world doesn't change with words. It only changes with strength."
The monk shook his head, a sad smile playing on his lips. "There is always another way. Strength alone is not the answer. Hatred breeds more hatred, violence begets violence. It is a cycle that never ends unless someone chooses to break it."
Naruto's eyes flashed with defiance. "Break it? How? By doing nothing? By letting others suffer while I stand by and watch?" His voice rose, anger and frustration bubbling to the surface. "I've tried everything! I've fought, I've sacrificed, and still, nothing changes! Every time I try to save someone, someone else dies! I'm too weak, too powerless to change anything!" True. Naruto had actually lived 1267 years. He has seen too much.
The monk's gaze softened further, filled with an endless well of compassion. "Let me tell you a story," he began, his voice calm and steady, like the flow of a gentle river. "Once, long ago, I met a boy. He was older than you, and like you, he was lost, confused, trapped in the horrors of war. He wanted to save his family, his friends. He wanted peace. But the war was suffocating, and he was too weak to change anything."
Naruto listened, his anger subsiding as the monk's words washed over him like a cool breeze on a hot day. "What happened to him?" he asked quietly, the bitterness in his voice slowly fading.
"The boy discovered peace," the monk continued, his voice filled with a deep, abiding reverence. "Not through violence or hatred, but through respect and understanding. He began to help others, to bring people together, to make them listen to one another. He found peace not by fighting, but by building bridges, by creating bonds of love and trust."
Naruto frowned, his mind racing to understand. "Did that make him strong?" he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
The monk smiled, a knowing look in his eyes. "Gradually, yes. He became strong, not just in body, but in spirit. He found strength in the love he cultivated, in the peace he brought to others."
Naruto's shoulders slumped, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. "Strength is everything… But no matter what I do, it's never enough. I've been trying to save everyone for so long, but it never works the way I want it to…"
The monk placed a comforting hand on Naruto's shoulder, his touch light, yet grounding. "War is not the solution, Naruto," he said softly, his voice carrying the weight of truth. "The answer to peace is not found in hatred, but in love. Love is the only thing that can truly heal the wounds of the world, that can break the cycle of violence and hatred."
"I am not some messiah," Naruto removed his hand. "I have killed," millions. "I did horrible things and I will still do them because I am not strong enough to do it in the right way."
"You are a skilled warrior," the monk said. "But what you lack is… faith."
Naruto bit his lip. That's true.
"Faith is strength," the monk continued. "Learn to forgive and be humble. Respect even your worst enemies. That is what will make you stronger."
A mosquito sat on the Monk's hand, Naruto frowned when the monk didn't do anything.
"You see," the man said, "This fly isn't harming me," Naruto looked closely, true. "Therefore, there is no reason for me to harm it,"
"What if it starts sucking your blood?" Naruto enquired.
To Naruto's surprise, the insect began doing so, yet the monk remained still.
"Why?" Naruto asked, perplexed.
"Because this body of mine has seven litres of blood," he replied. "Yet, this little creature requires only a few drops of blood to survive."
"What about you falling ill?"
"Will I?" The monk smiled.
Naruto frowned again. Perhaps not.
"Say, my boy," the monk said once again.
Naruto looked up at the monk, his blue eyes filled with uncertainty and longing. "What would you do if you had the power to save everyone?" the monk asked gently, his gaze piercing through the fog of doubt that clouded Naruto's heart.
Naruto paused, his mind flashing back to a time long ago, when Jiraiya had asked him a similar question. Back then, he had answered with the fiery determination of a boy who had known only pain. He had declared that he would kill anyone who hurt him, who hurt those he loved.
But now… now he was different. He had seen too much, felt too much. He was tired of the endless cycle of pain and loss.
"I'll save everyone," Naruto declared, his voice strong, yet filled with a quiet resolve that hadn't been there before.
The monk nodded, his eyes filled with approval. "You have a good heart, Naruto. Remember that love is the greatest strength of all. It is what will guide you, what will help you find the way forward."
Time passed slowly in the cave, the minutes stretching into hours as Naruto watched the monk meditate on a stone platform. The silence was soothing, the atmosphere calm and serene. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Naruto felt at peace.
When afternoon came, Naruto felt that his body had fully healed, the pain that had once wracked him now a distant memory. He stood up, feeling stronger, more centred than he had in a long time. "Thank you," he said sincerely, bowing his head to the monk.
The monk smiled, his eyes filled with warmth. "Go now, with my blessings," he said, his voice as calm and steady as ever.
Naruto turned toward the entrance of the cave, which opened before him as if by some unseen force. But just as he was about to leave, he paused, turning back to the monk with a curious expression. "Oh, you never told me your name," he said, his voice tinged with curiosity.
The monk smiled, a serene look on his face. "My name is—"
Naruto's small frame froze, his eyes widening in shock. The name echoed in his mind, a name that should have been lost to time, to history. He blinked, trying to comprehend what he had just heard. But when he opened his eyes again, the cave was gone, as if it had never been there. All that remained was the endless horizon stretching out before him, a vast expanse of possibility.
The monk's name had been one of legend, whispered in the annals of history and passed down through generations as a figure who had once walked the earth, spreading peace and enlightenment. It was a name that should have belonged to a time long past, a figure who was said to have transcended the mortal realm.
Naruto's breath hitched as he tried to process what had just occurred. How could that have been possible? His mind raced with questions, his thoughts swirling in a chaotic storm of disbelief and awe. Yet, deep within, he felt a strange sense of calm, as though the encounter had been more than just a mere hallucination or dream. It felt real—profoundly real.
He shook his head, trying to clear the fog that had settled in his mind. He had no time to linger on the mysteries of the past. The world outside was still rife with turmoil, and his friends, his family, needed him. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what lay ahead. He had promised to save everyone, and he intended to keep that promise, no matter the cost.
oOo
Naruto stood atop the Hiko Barren Hills, his red hair fluttering in the wind, a striking contrast against the desolate landscape. His sharp senses flared as he detected two familiar chakra signatures, both dimming with every passing second. His heart skipped a beat.
'Jiraiya and Hiruzen?'
Why was the Hokage on the battlefield? This was not where he was supposed to be. Naruto's instincts screamed at him to hurry, to reach them before it was too late. With a flurry of movement, he leaped across the terrain, each bound bringing him closer to the source of the fading energy.
When he finally arrived, the sight that greeted him was horrifying. Jiraiya and Hiruzen stood back-to-back, their once-mighty forms now weary and bloodied, surrounded by at least a hundred foreign shinobi. The enemies were closing in, their faces twisted with malevolence and hunger for the kill.
'Should I disguise myself…' Naruto's fists clenched, his resolve hardening. 'Enough disguise. I'll be myself.'
He began to form hand signs, his mind racing with the possibilities of the techniques at his disposal. But then, a strange sensation washed over him—an instinctual urge that made him pause. Something deep within him recoiled at the idea of using lethal force. It felt wrong, disturbing even, as if it would betray the very essence of what he had come to believe.
'Show them the power of love,' a voice whispered in the recesses of his mind, ancient and serene. 'Do not eradicate and kill indiscriminately— only protect and create.'
Naruto's hands stilled for a moment, and then, almost hypnotically, he found himself forming a different set of seals, his lips moving on their own. "Peace it is," he murmured, his voice low and resonant, carrying a weight that seemed beyond his years. He could barely understand what was happening, yet it felt right, as though this was the path he was meant to walk.
"Sage Art—"
Down below, Hiruzen's shoulders sagged with the weight of his decisions. He had never wanted to be on the front lines, not at his age, not with the burden of Hokage on his shoulders. But with Minato and Kushina unavailable, both reeling from the loss of their son, Hiruzen had no choice.
Hiruzen, as the Hokage, was not supposed to be on the front lines. But Minato and Kushina were currently unavailable.
After their son's death, Kushina went on a rampage. Minato had stopped her, sadly, he was wounded.
He had to protect the village, even if it meant sacrificing himself.
Jiraiya, too, was exhausted, his once fiery spirit now dimmed by hours of relentless combat. They had held their ground for twelve hours, but help was nowhere in sight. Every tactic, every jutsu had been countered by the enemy, and now, their comrades lay unconscious, trapped in a powerful genjutsu.
Panting, Jiraiya glanced at his old teacher, his voice heavy with resignation. "I guess this is it, Sensei."
"Unfortunately—" Hiruzen began, but his words were cut off by a sudden shift in the air, an energy that was both familiar and foreign.
"Sage Art—"
They both gasped, their eyes widening in disbelief. Sage Art? Here? But who could possibly—
"… Crystal Release…"
Hiruzen's heart skipped a beat. That wasn't a Bloodline Limit known to him, and it wasn't something that had been heard from anyone before. 'Who is this?'
"True—"
Hiruzen froze. The air around them thrummed with a power that was both ancient and primal, something he had only felt once before in his life. Memories flooded his mind, memories of a time when he was just a child, watching in awe as the First Hokage, Hashirama Senju, had unleashed his most powerful technique in the midst of war.
Could it be…?
"…Several Thousand—"
Jiraiya's eyes widened as he turned to look at Hiruzen, who was staring at something behind him, his face a mix of shock and recognition. The battlefield grew silent, all eyes turning toward the source of the booming voice.
"…haaaaaaands!"
The words reverberated through the air like the tolling of a great bell, and then, as if summoned by the very force of nature itself, a massive statue of a Buddha, made entirely of shimmering diamond, rose from the earth. The statue towered over the battlefield, its presence both awe-inspiring and terrifying, a sight that would forever be etched into the minds of those who witnessed it.
Atop the statue stood Naruto Uzumaki, his small form dwarfed by the colossal structure beneath him. His hands were clasped together in a seal, his eyes glowing with a brilliant intensity. But what struck the onlookers the most were the markings on his face—Sage Mode.
True Several Thousand Hands. The technique that had once turned the tide of wars, now brought forth by a child, a mere three-year-old boy.
Hiruzen's mind reeled as he was thrown back to that moment in his youth, when he had first witnessed Hashirama Senju's unparalleled strength. The battlefield had been a sea of chaos, but with a single technique, Hashirama had silenced it all, bringing peace to a world ravaged by conflict. And now, that same power had returned, in the form of a child—a child who had been lost, presumed dead.
The battle had raged on, a tempest of chaos and destruction, but at the heart of it all stood Naruto Uzumaki, a boy who had just harnessed a power beyond anything he had ever known. The towering diamond Buddha, summoned by his will, loomed over the battlefield, its presence as much a symbol of peace as it was of overwhelming might.
The enemies were backing away, looks of horror on their faces.
But peace was never easily won. As Naruto surveyed the fleeing enemy shinobi, he felt a sudden surge of dark chakra, a presence so malevolent it sent a chill down most people's spine. His gaze snapped to the source, and his eyes narrowed.
From the ranks of the enemy, a figure emerged, larger than life, its form twisted and feral. The ground trembled beneath its steps as it advanced, and a primal roar tore through the air, shaking the very earth. The Four-Tails, the Yonbi—one of the great Tailed Beasts—had been unleashed, its enormous form dwarfing everything around it. The air grew thick with tension as the beast charged towards Naruto's statue, its massive fists raised to strike.
In most timelines, Naruto had sealed the beast inside the Shinigami's stomach using Sealing Arts.
But… not this time.
Naruto's heart pounded in his chest, but there was no time to hesitate. He leapt forward, hands moving in a blur as he formed a new seal, his mind calm. He could feel the raw, unchecked fury of the Yonbi, a creature of ancient power and endless rage. But he also felt something else—a deep, lingering sorrow, buried beneath layers of anger and pain.
'I see you,' Naruto thought as he watched the beast charge, his resolve hardening. 'And I won't let you destroy everything.'
With a roar that shook the heavens, the Four-Tails brought its fist down upon the diamond Buddha, aiming to shatter it in one blow. But Naruto was ready. The statue's hands moved with a speed that belied their size, catching the Yonbi's fist in an unbreakable grip. The impact sent shockwaves through the ground, but the Buddha stood firm, unmoved by the beast's wrath.
Naruto's eyes narrowed, his voice calm and steady as he called out to the creature. "You don't have to fight. You're not a weapon… you're not just rage."
The Yonbi snarled, thrashing against the statue's grip, its crimson eyes blazing with fury. But Naruto didn't flinch. He reached out with his chakra, extending his own spirit towards the beast, not with the intent to dominate, but to understand.
"Listen to me," Naruto said, his voice softening, carrying a warmth that cut through the cold air. "I know you've been hurt, betrayed… But I'm not your enemy. I'm here to help."
The Yonbi's tailes swung furiously. But Naruto remained calm.
"You shouldn't give up, fight back."
The words seemed to hang in the air, and for a moment, the Yonbi hesitated. Its growls quieted, its wild thrashing slowed. Naruto could feel the shift, the beast's rage giving way to something else—confusion, uncertainty, and deep within, a yearning for something more.
Naruto took a deep breath, drawing upon the power of the Buddha statue, amplifying the serenity that it embodied. The hands of the statue, still holding the Yonbi, began to glow with a soft, golden light. Slowly, ever so gently, the light spread, flowing over the Yonbi's massive form like a calming tide.
The beast's eyes flickered, the fury within them dimming as the light washed over it. Naruto could feel the tension draining from its muscles, the anger melting away, replaced by a profound sense of peace.
"It's okay," Naruto whispered, his voice a soothing balm to the beast's wounded soul. "You don't have to be angry anymore. You're free."
The Yonbi let out a final, shuddering breath, its massive form beginning to shrink as the light enveloped it completely. The chakra dissipated, the beast's once terrifying presence now calm and subdued. As the last vestiges of the Yonbi's form faded away, the figure of its Jinchuriki—its human host—was left lying senseless on the ground, completely drained.
Naruto, his own strength waning, turned his gaze towards Jiraiya and Hiruzen, who were watching in stunned silence.
He looked at the enemies who were shocked and looking at him with wide eyes.
Iwa and Kumo had everything planned.
Kushina Uzumaki would be going on a mission to clear out a bandit camp. Minato Namikaze will be going on another mission. However, these wouldn't be normal missions.
The clients who had requested the mission were fake. They essentially ensured that the Yellow Flash and the Jinchuriki would go on a mission that would kill them.
Of course Iwa and Kumo's plan failed. The Yellow Flash and the Jinchuriki still live. The Sannim are there too. Some other high ranking Shinobi are there as well.
But…
For some reason, Konoha was getting unstable.
Namikaze and Uzumaki were unavailable. Two of the Sannin were too busy at the borders. Fugaku Uchiha was stationed at Kiri and…
The village was unguarded.
Iwa and Kumo decided it was the perfect time for an invasion.
And no surprise seeing Kami Nō Shinobi just there to stop their march along with the only available Sannin. They had ANBU and some Jōnin too.
However…
One thousand against five thousand? And a Tailed-Beast too?
Konoha was losing.
Badly.
Just when Iwa was about to kill Jiraiya and Hiruzen—
—this boy appeared out of nowhere.
Red hair?
It is said that Three Great Nations united to destroy Uzushiogakure. Men, women, young, old, civilians and Shinobi were killed. Their excuse: 'We saved the world from carnage by killing them.'
'Why?'
'The Uzumaki were savage and too talented.'
'So?'
'They would take down the whole world one day if they aren't eradicated…'
Truly, the fiery red hair of this young boy proves this hypothesis.
"Run," he commanded, his voice carrying an edge of authority.
The men didn't need to be told again. They turned and began to retreat, some already coming up with monikers.
Naruto watched them go, his vision blurring as the strain of the technique finally caught up with him. His legs trembled, and he blinked, the realisation hitting him like a wave. 'I just… used a new technique… a Kekkei Tota… but… oh… right. I get it. The Wood Release… So it was a divine blessing, Lord First, not a kekkei genkai….'
The thought was fleeting, slipping away as darkness crept in from the edges of his vision. His body gave out, and he began to fall, the world tilting as consciousness slipped away.
But before he could hit the ground, strong arms caught him, cradling him gently. Jiraiya had returned, his face a mask of concern and relief as he held the boy close.
"Kushina and Minato are up for a surprise," Jiraiya remarked.
"Indeed," Hiruzen mused. "That power… this Sage Mode… just like the First Hokage. I wonder if the stories are true…"
"What stories?" Jiraya frowned.
"Hashirama Senju being blessed by—" Hiruzen finshed.
Jiraiya's heart pounded rapidly. "I need to speak with the Geezer Toad Sage…"
During the Battle of Hiko, humanity had witnessed the emergence of a legend. An angel.
Even decades later, people would still call him the greatest Shinobi in history.
Shinobi: The Crystal Sage.
TBC
Author Note: This is reset number 303, where all the canon events occur. and Naruto becomes the honoured one here.
Keep in mind that everything that happened in canon centering Naruto, happens here too— except this time, it is not Naruto here.
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Till next time!