"There was a sparring match at the Academy today. My first.
"I lost.
"The other boy was faster, or maybe just smarter. He used some move I didn't see coming, and before I knew it, I was flat on the ground, staring at the sky. The teacher, Nobushi, said it wasn't about winning, but about learning.
"I think that's something people say when they've already won.
"Some of the others laughed, but not in a mean way. Not all of them, at least. A few just looked confused, like they couldn't figure out why I wasn't better. I guess I thought I'd be better too. Back home, no one ever caught me, not once.
"I keep thinking about my parents. They don't know what it's like here — how hard it is to keep up. I can't tell them about today. They gave up too much to send me, and I can't let them think it was for nothing. I just have to get better.
"Tomorrow, I'll stay after class. Practice the blocks I missed, run the drills again and again until my body remembers them better than I do. If I don't have the talent yet, I'll just make it.
"I can't go back empty-handed. I won't."
鹿
15 — A DEER IN MOONLIGHT
NARUTO WOKE UP BLEARILY the morning after at seven sharp, when the timed seal Shiori had placed triggered.
Two more days, and they would reach the mountainous town of Yukinoyama. From there, their path would depend on the circumstances. They might cross from the Land of Iron into Waterfalls or Rice. If necessary, they could even divert eastward through the Land of Hot Water, though it would lengthen their journey. Regardless of the route, all roads eventually led to Fire.
Of course, the farther they stayed from either Lightning or Earth, the safer they would be.
The airship's narrow sleeping quarters felt a bit colder than usual, and Naruto shivered, fumbling for his light cloak — one without clan emblems, of course. Outside the small window beside his bunk, the sky was an endless pale gray, tinged with dark streaks where the storm clouds gathered. With the low hum of the airship's core in his ears, he stretched and rolled out of bed, rubbing his eyes.
Ryūjin was sleeping through it all, as he tended to, and Nagato was somewhere else. Shinpachi was reading quietly, and Shiori was already up, her thin silhouette framed by the soft blue glow of a barrier seal she was adjusting. This quiet routine had settled into something almost comforting. Naruto had gotten used to seeing her there in the mornings, tending to the delicate web of seals that shielded them. She glanced at him and nodded.
"You were out last night," she said, tone neutral.
"Good morning, Lady Shiori—" Naruto nodded, still groggy. "—Yes, I was," he added, swallowing back a yawn. "…Is that bad?"
"Not really," she said, to his slight surprise. "Gojō was watching over you the whole time — and had that wisp of his on you. For all the complaints I have about him, I trust him with your safety."
"Oh," Naruto said, blinking. He hadn't noticed him at all. "…Where is he now?"
"That, on the other hand—" Shiori shook her head, her tone carrying a flicker of frustration "—is something I don't trust him with. He all but disappeared after ensuring you reached our rooms. Undoubtedly following his baser instincts. A recursive story."
"…Baser instincts?" Naruto tilted his head, unsure of her meaning.
"…This is nothing important," she said, cutting off the thought firmly.
Naruto stepped closer to where Shiori was working, his eyes drawn to the fluid motions of her hands as they wove intricate combinations of symbols. He watched in silence, but his attention caught on the moment her movements slowed. Her gaze drifted to the horizon visible beyond the window, and for an instant, her expression softened — marked by something faint and fleeting, like the shadow of a long-buried memory. Sadness? Hesitation? It was gone too quickly to name.
"…Perhaps I cannot blame him for trying to find a measure of freedom where he can," she said quietly, mostly speaking to herself. "The fury of youth is a tempest all its own."
Naruto considered her words. It wasn't just the odd phrase itself but the wistful tone beneath it, as though she spoke from a place of knowing. As though this tempest she spoke of had once stormed through her own life too.
Of course, Naruto couldn't help but wonder — about many things. Her generation was bound to have had more than their fair share of fiery struggles. Did she once rage against the constraints of tradition, seeking her own liberty? Had the Uzukage been the same, then? And what of Shiori's relationship with the latter and Mito, whose name carried the same resonance of history and duty as only a Hokage's normally would? It seemed a bond that transcended years, likely full of shared loss and the quiet erosion of this youthful fury into something quieter — steadier.
Naruto did not think of this all with such a clear picture then, of course. No, that would only come later, when he understood a little bit more about the world they lived in.
Shiori extended one arm, her other hand disappearing deep into the folds of that bottomless sleeve — a half-open seal gate, inscribed within her lightweight cloak — who did that? She pulled out rations from there and tossed one to Naruto.
"Breakfast," she said amusedly. "Don't eat too fast."
There was no chance of that. Shiori seemed to realize it because she laughed.
"Now," she said. "Let us resume our lessons, shall we?"
Shinpachi closed his book, finally greeting Naruto (who might have thought it to be rather rude, were Shinpachi not... himself), and so they got started with the day.
Kyosei still took long, rambling, and roundabout paths in Naruto's opinion, and it was still so highly inefficient, but there was no time for complaining. A nagging part of him — the competitive streak that flared at the thought of Shinpachi staying ahead in anything — refused to fall behind too far.
Still, that part felt slightly less sharp than it had been in Uzushio, as though there was less of a chance of cutting himself on that edge.
The language learning, he had learned to tolerate. Out of necessity. Going back to the Principles, most of which he had already learned under Noboru, this time in Kyosei… That, on the other hand, he minded.
"Every seal tells a story," Shiori began, her voice sharp and deliberate. She enunciated each word as though carving them into stone (or Naruto's smooth brain). "The Principle of Symbolic Anchoring is rooted in the connection between Meaning and power. Symbols — metaphorical or literal — act as conduits, shaping how energy flows within a seal. They tether Intent, grounding it to the seal's design."
She paused, her eyes flicking to Naruto. "That's why practitioners are taught—" she raised a brow, "or supposedly taught — to imbue their seals with layers of meaning: personal, cultural, or universal. The stronger the connection between the seal's form — through its symbology — and its purpose, the more effective it becomes."
She nodded to herself. "Of course, all of this is meaningless if the seal's logic doesn't hold on its own — that's the foundation, the unspoken rule. Symbols, on top of this obvious Meaning implication, act as bridges for Intent to cross, binding the physical design of the seal, to the abstract force it wields…"
"I know all that," Naruto muttered under his breath. It was the only reason he felt he could even follow along in this mess of a language.
Shiori paused. "Perhaps you do. It certainly will not hurt you to hear it again."
Shinpachi glanced at Naruto but said nothing.
"Seals," Shiori went on, "are not static. They exist in cycles, part of a continuous energy exchange. Theoretically, if these concepts were perfected, a seamless integration of energy input and output could create perfect, self-sustaining constructs."
"Would that count as a Principle too?" Shinpachi asked, tilting his head. "Another reversal, perhaps?"
"It's not," Shiori said. "As I said, it is closer to a theory. One that's yet to be fully realized, even by the greatest of us — as far as I know. Something elusive. Many claim it to be impossible, that energy always dissipates, no matter how perfectly a cycle is designed."
Naruto frowned, his arms crossed. "So you're saying even the best seals... leak?"
Because he had thought it was a problem that could be remedied, with enough experience. His own, after all, had gotten better as of recently.
"Leak? No," Shiori corrected, her voice carrying the weight of a teacher's patience. "But they require maintenance — external reinforcement or sustenance, often drawn from the practitioner's own chakra. This concept of Infinity remains an aspiration, nothing more."
"Infinity?" Naruto echoed, his interest piqued despite himself.
"Ah. This is what you meant." Shinpachi stirred, leaning forward slightly. "…I've heard some members of the Gakusha-ke call it a fairytale."
Shiori's lips curved into a faint smile. "Perhaps it is. But every fairytale begins as a dream, and dreams often lead to the greatest advancements."
"No one's done it though, right?" Naruto pressed.
"I do not believe so. At least, no one alive, for certain," Shiori said. "We do, however, have records of masters who came tantalizingly close. Some speculate that the greatest of our seals — the ones that quelled natural disasters or the one carried us to the heavens — might have achieved something close to such a state, albeit temporarily."
Naruto mulled it over. "Temporarily doesn't sound quite sound like infinity."
"It's not," Shiori agreed, her tone softening. "But the pursuit of the impossible often brings us closer to the extraordinary. Even an imperfect cycle can create wonders. That's why sealing is never truly mastered, children. Each generation builds upon the work of the last, standing on the shoulders of giants to push a little further." She allowed a moment's pause, then added with a small smile, "Who knows? Perhaps yours will be the one to reach that elusive ideal."
They both stared at her, the weight of her words settling heavily in their minds.
"…I wouldn't have imagined you to hold such aspirations," Shinpachi said, his tone respectful but laced with quiet surprise.
Shiori raised an eyebrow, her gaze sharp but amused, as though she could see the gears grinding in their heads. "A pleasant hope, or a dream, it might be. If it spurs even a shred of growth however, then my work here is done."
And then, she went quiet.
Naruto noticed the shift in her expression first, slightly before Shinpachi did — a softness creeping into her sharp features, a flicker of something heavier behind her composed demeanor.
"Those are things you have taught before, are they not?" he asked. "Or at least, it's a belief you share with someone." Lady Mito… Lady Yume?
The silence went on for a moment longer.
When Shiori spoke again, it was slower, her words carrying a weight neither he nor the other boy had expected.
"…You are astute, both of you, although in different ways. Hold on to these qualities, although not at the cost of others; they will serve you well."
"Lady Shiori?" Shinpachi asked.
"To dream of something extraordinary, and perhaps slightly foolish," she said, her voice steady but quieter than before, "isn't new to me. There was a bright young man who shared that dream with me once... until recently. Tenjin."
Naruto blinked, caught off guard. She rarely spoke so personally about others.
"Yes, the very same one master Sealweaver I once helped bring to Konoha," she continued, her tone thoughtful, distant. "We stayed in touch in the years after. Letters, mostly. They were always filled with ideas, theories… hopes, I suppose. He had his peculiar way of holding onto idealism, even when the world seemed determined to take it away. No matter how hard of a man he became, he was an optimist, deep down."
Her gaze drifted down, settling on the rings adorning her gnarled (the word 'gnarled' nearly felt like an euphemism here, in truth) fingers. Naruto caught the flicker of movement and followed it, noticing the subtle tension in her posture. "He wasn't family — not in the way the mainland would define it. But we were as close as kin, I suppose." She turned one of the rings absently, brushing the crest that was etched into it. "I taught him to craft his own."
There was another pause, longer this time, before she exhaled. "For the last few months, I heard nothing from him. I didn't think much of it at the time. The day I was recalled to Uzushio, however, several letters arrived at once. One, of course, was the summons calling me home. Another was from Tenjin — unmistakable, as he always used his personal seal, the red spider lily unique to his ring. And then there was that all too familiar black letter.
"It felt strange, opening it — I thought him safe in Konoha, certainly not in that hellhole to the East. But somehow, I already knew: he was the one who had died. And that day's letter was the last I would ever receive from him."
Her voice trailed off into the quiet, leaving the two boys staring at her, unsure if they should speak. But before the silence could settle too heavily, she straightened and let out a faint, resolute sigh.
"Tenjin was always headstrong," she said, her lips curving into a faint, bittersweet smile. "The boy I brought to Konoha would have scoffed at all this sentiment." Her fingers traced the ring's surface once more. "And the man he became would have done worse than scoff."
She fell quiet for a moment, lost in thought. When she spoke again, her voice carried an edge of steel beneath its softness. "But his words remain. They echo in the quiet moments, reminding me why we keep reaching forward, even when the losses pile high enough to block out the sun."
The room settled again, her composure smoothing over like a sea after a storm, as though she'd neatly folded her feelings back into place.
"Now," she added lightly, "have you two grown enough to answer my earlier question, or shall I wait for another decade?"
Dinner was not sealed rations.
They were a safe thing to keep stored away for long periods of time and in most circumstances (a seal could be tampered with by external factors, but the rations were harder to poison, for one), but they were not particularly tasty, as Naruto would attest to for the next few years.
No, dinner wasn't sealed rations. Instead, a group of five made their way to the dining room together. Along the way, they stopped to collect Gojō — not from his room, of course. Shiori made no secret of resenting the detour, her sharp mutters filled with barely contained displeasure, though Ryūjin seemed more entertained than anything. Naruto couldn't tell what irked her more: Gojō's disheveled robes (which, for once, he was actually wearing) or the clinging scent of cheap woman's perfume that seemed to follow him like a bad decision.
Shinpachi, meanwhile, kept sniffing — whether from a sensitive nose disturbed by this very perfume or some undiagnosed allergy, Naruto couldn't say. Shiori's grumbles escalated to remarks about man's lack of shame. And so they went, a strange, mismatched procession heading for dinner.
Aiko sat in the corner with a man Naruto assumed was her father. The resemblance was undeniable — the same dark hair and eyes, and a hint of her smile lingered in his expression.
"This food tastes strange," Shinpachi said, chewing thoughtfully, his brows knitting together.
"What? Strange how?" Naruto asked, suddenly wary.
Gojō snickered. "I think," he began, a mischievous lilt in his voice, "that Shin-chan here just isn't used to food that wasn't made by the 'lower' houses. That's what the strange taste is."
It was meant to be teasing, Naruto could tell, but Shinpachi's chopsticks paused mid-air before lowering carefully onto the table. "Is that a bad thing?" he asked, suddenly worried.
"No—"
"Is it about immunity?" Shinpachi cut in, his voice rising a notch. "Should I have primed my system for foreign foods? I was given a seal that—"
"No," Gojō groaned, dragging a hand across his face. "You know what, forget about it. You're no fun either, in the end."
"I'm afraid you have been bested," Shiori said dryly, not even looking up from her bowl.
"Oh," Shinpachi said, blinking as his anxious expression faded. "You were jesting, then, Gojō?"
Gojō stared at him for a beat, his lips parting in disbelief. "What did I do to deserve this, exactly?"
"How much time do you have?" Ryūjin asked amusedly. "Unless I'm mistaken, there's an arrest warrant for a man who looks suspiciously like you—"
"In Hatenomizu?" Nagato's quiet voice cut through, his tone measured as ever. Both Gojō and Ryūjin turned toward him. "I saw it there, yes," Nagato said with a nod.
"…There's one there, too?" Gojō said, incredulous. "How can that be?"
"Oh," Nagato mused. "Perhaps it wasn't you, then. A noble claims a 'red-haired—' I won't repeat the word in front of you all '—borrowed a priceless artifact from their shrine."
Gojō raised an eyebrow. "…Borrowed?" he echoed.
"And never returned it, yes."
"Well, I don't recall ever stepping foot in a shrine. As in, ever."
"And what a surprise that is," Shiori muttered under her breath.
"That's not exactly a denial, is it?" Ryūjin said, his grin broadening. "You don't have to step inside to nick something, technically speaking. Especially with shikigami."
Gojō pursed his lips, casting a sharp look at both of them. "Oh, don't start. Shouldn't it be time for your afternoon nap, now—?" He trailed off, his lips moving but no sound emerging. He frowned in realization, and with a single careful pulse of chakra, his voice returned. "Very funny, old lady."
"Funny...?" Shiori, still chewing her food, gave him a flat look. "I was merely trying to enjoy a peaceful meal."
Naruto blinked; he hadn't even noticed when she'd applied the barrier.
"How was last night?" Nagato asked, in this quiet, dignified manner of his, without looking anyone in particular in the eye.
Gojō grinned, leaning back in his chair. "Pretty nice, actually. The legends are true — girls from—"
"…I wasn't asking you, Gojō."
Naruto blinked when he realized who Nagato meant. "Me?" he asked, caught off guard. "Uh, it was nice. Aiko and I watched the stars and talked a bit."
"Who's Aiko?" Shinpachi asked.
"I met her yesterday — a friend."
"You're welcome, by the way," Gojō said, gesturing vaguely.
Naruto frowned. "…For what?"
The young man sighed. "One day, you'll understand."
"Why don't you call her over?" Nagato asked Naruto with a smile.
"Aiko…?" Naruto glanced toward her table, where she sat with her father. "She's eating with her dad."
"And so, you may invite both," Shiori said with mild amusement.
"…Very funny," Naruto muttered, though a small smile crept onto his face.
"She meant it," Nagato said, his calm, purple-eyed gaze steady. "It's only the two of them." He glanced to his left, where Gojō lounged. "Unless, of course, you're afraid our present company might cause trouble."
Gojō frowned. "Who, me?" he huffed.
Before either Naruto or Nagato could muster a response, something shifted.
It wasn't Aiko, now smiling and waving at Naruto without a care in the world.
It wasn't just the sudden chill crawling up his spine.
It was something else. Something faint at first — an indescribable wrongness, like a silence too loud or a hollowness pressing against the air itself.
Shiori stiffened, her expression sharpening into something cold and alert. Her hands slammed against the floor, raising layers of barriers so quickly they thrummed. Nagato's head turned slightly, his lavender eyes narrowing as if catching a faint scent on the wind. Chakra rippled around him, so thick it was visible, his hands moving into a seal. Water lifted from the glasses on the table, shaping into thin, deadly spires facing every possible direction and angle at Ryūjin's subtle gesture. Even Gojō, normally so careless, leaned forward, seemingly prepared for anything, his sharp gaze darting toward the farthest corner of the room, chakra and shikigami undoubtedly at the ready.
And faster than even last time, Shinpachi, who had never seemed particularly fond of using anything tangentially related to Kototamajutsu himself, was already murmuring the incantations for that Sanctuary spell card of his, not fully aware of what was happening, but determined not to let it anyway.
Naruto, whose chakra senses were dulled and distant, blinked in confusion, palming a kunai out of either instinct or paranoia. "What—?"
A soft tap reverberated through the air. It wasn't loud or jarring — just the sound of something natural. Something that still didn't belong anyway. Naruto's breath caught as his eyes caught on the source of the noise. And then, he almost laughed in disbelief.
A deer stood in the room.
At least, he thought it was a deer — his only reference came from illustrations in books. Its form was impossibly delicate, ghostly pale as if sculpted from moonlight itself. Large black eyes brimmed with an unsettling stillness, their depths far too knowing, far too ancient. Its antlers twisted like gnarled roots, faintly glistening as if wet with dew.
It was beautiful — until Naruto's gaze fell to its legs.
What should have been slender and graceful limbs were instead grotesque. They resembled rotting branches, twisted and uneven, their surfaces a pulsing mass of putrid flesh that seemed on the verge of melting into the floor. Something that had no right to echo such a clear sound.
The room's light dimmed subtly, the edges of everything blurring, as though a fragile dream coming undone at the seams.
The deer's hoof rose silently and tapped the floor again.
There was a man behind it, gliding forward in surreal mist with an eerie grace. His crimson eyes swept across the room, seeming to meet each gaze in turn. Naruto had seen these eyes of deep red before, he thought, but where…?
Of the non-shinobi in the room, none of the children seemed to notice the deer. The adults, however, reacted in unison, stiffening at once, moving to the same soundless rhythm, eyes upon the newcomer. As though they could only see the man; it was a steady rise of panic.
Shiori stood, her barriers layering as her hand slid toward the folds of her robe. Nagato's chakra surged faintly, echoing, and the air was thick with ozone. Gojō still didn't move, waiting to make an appropriate counterattack. His eyes were sharp… and disbelieving.
"What the hell's that one—?" he asked, but no one could answer him.
Two more figures had appeared at some point, only now visible to Naruto; masked and silent, they blurred forward from the misty corners of the room.
All of this, of course, happened in just an instant. And two things happened at once:
One of the masked figures reached for the barrier with his hand.
The deer lowered its head, one leg poised mid-step. Its hoof struck the floor.
A sound like a balloon popping echoed, mingling with the harsher tap. The air seemed to shatter, reality cracking like glass.
Fragments of the world splintered apart, reshaping into something incomprehensible. The warmth of the room vanished, replaced by a biting cold that sank into Naruto's skin. He stumbled back, his mouth opening to shout, but no sound came.
The walls of the room were gone now, replaced by an infinite expanse of shadowed nothingness. A faint mist curled at his feet, coiling around his ankles like sentient smoke. The only sound was his own breath, harsh and unsteady, echoing in the void.
When the world stilled, he was alone under a starry night sky, the wind howling around him.
"Gojō…? Lady Shiori?" Naruto called out, his voice swallowed by the dark. "Shinpachi? Ryūjin…? Nagato?"
Anyone?
He knew this place. The highest point of the airship — its contours and vastness, that he had mistaken for a large shadow under him, he had already seen the previous night. And then, a far more troubling realization crept over him.
He wasn't alone.
The heavy air carried the faint sound of footsteps. Slow, deliberate, they were clear even in the howling winds; echoing softly against the void… and stopping just behind him.
Before Naruto could turn, a hand settled on his shoulder — gentle as jagged spikes of frost forming through glass by cracking it. Cold radiated from the touch, seeping through cloth and skin, spreading through his veins like winter water. His muscles seized, refusing every desperate command to move. Even his scream died unborn in his throat, trapped behind lips that wouldn't part.
"Well, then," a voice said, calm and lilting. "You must be the chosen spare."
lensdump
i/LTWniz : A Deer in Moonlight
AN: Uzumaki luck on display once more.
Next chapter: Silver Tongue