"I see you are struggling to stay awake, Hanabi. Am I such a poor storyteller?"

"Struggling, me? Hardly."

"Your eyes are practically closed."

"Merely thinking. Go on."

"Thinking won't help if you can't stand tomorrow. Get some sleep. You too, Neji. We've made progress, though not as much as I'd hoped—"

"And here I believed you had told tales before."

"I have, Hanabi."

"Just not this one, I suppose."

"Are you fishing for information, again…? You're not that subtle. Come on, let me show you your modest sleeping arrangements. Assuming you now trust me enough not to slit your throats, of course. Otherwise, there's always that nice pile of snow outside."

"Can't we go on a little further? It has been a long day, certainly, but…"

"You too, Neji? Very well... just a little more, then."

長

門

11 — LONG LASTING GATE

ON THE EVE OF THE DAY he was to leave, Naruto didn't manage to fall asleep.

He returned home somewhat late, past his mother's usual bedtime, and readied his bags. Kept awake by a sense of restlessness, he turned on the lights and looked through his books until he found an interesting one. It didn't put him to sleep, and before Naruto knew it, he had read over a hundred pages of that particular novel.

Several hours had passed and he was wide awake. It was a pleasant May night, and despite the seals in his room (or because of them), the air felt a bit dry. After moments more of tossing and turning, he threw on a light coat and left the house.

Naruto stepped into the quiet streets of the islands, and the air felt crisp against his skin despite the lingering warmth of the day, stored and redistributed through the many symbols spread across the village. His footsteps were soft against the cobbled streets, which were worn smooth by just a generation or two of Uzushio's people.

The night sky was clear, scattered, twinkling lights of distant sky islands visible against the deep blue. The gentle hum of the wind was ever-present, passing through the archways and between buildings with curved, sloping roofs adorned with intricate carvings.

Many of the buildings of Amenogawa were tall, and some of the larger structures had circular windows lined with pale orange light from within; watchful eyes that flickered faintly, even in the late hours. Banners of deep crimson and gold fluttered lazily in the breeze, bearing the sigils of Uzushio's noblest houses. Here and there, softly glowing lanterns hung from wrought iron posts, casting pools of amber light that reflected off the polished stone streets.

The air carried a faint, salty tang, a reminder of the ocean below, mingling with the soft, metallic bite of ozone from the distant storm clouds that had passed earlier. The occasional chime of wind bells, suspended from balconies and rooftops, punctuated the silence with clear notes, and they echoed faintly in the empty streets.

Each of the islands themselves seemed to breathe, a constant presence one could only recognize in its absence. Seals, woven deep into the very foundations of Uzushio — sometimes quite literally, as the Uzumaki were not ones to shy away from such things — buzzed faintly in the air, always humming, always vigilant.

No one had ever managed to breach Uzushio's barriers since its ascension.

A flicker of red caught Naruto's eye above, and his body stiffened, memories snapping into focus. But before he could act upon it, a voice broke the silence.

"Can't sleep, kid?"

The man who called out to him from the sloped, tiled roof was one unknown to him. And yet, something about him felt oddly familiar. He lay up there with a lazy smile, the kind of careless attitude that often made you trust a person without thinking twice. There was no edge to him — at least right now — just a quiet warmth in his gaze that made Naruto pause, unsure if he'd met this man before, or if it was simply that kind of face.

"Well?" the man asked, beckoning him closer with his hand. "What're you waiting for? Can't scale walls?"

Unsure why he was even listening to him, Naruto climbed atop the house, careful to place his feet only on the wood beams instead of the polished white marble, and apologizing to the owners inwardly.

"What are you doing up here?" Naruto asked.

"It's the best place to see the sunset."

"But that was — Have you been lying here for hours?"

The man laughed, a low rumble in his chest. "You sure are one judgmental kid."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"I was joking. Hair of the gods, you're wound tighter than a stormstring."

To this day, Naruto wasn't sure what a stormstring was, in all honesty.

"Eh," the man then said, shrugging. "I guess watching the sunsets is more of an old-timer thing. Can't blame you for wanting to do more interesting things at your age."

After a moment's deliberation, Naruto shook his head. "...I enjoy the nights more."

The man raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Oh? Come out here often to think, then?"

"I guess so."

"Good spot for it. Quiet. Makes you feel like you've got all the time in the world, doesn't it?" He made a fist. "You can sit here for hours and not even notice it."

Naruto did not answer.

"...Well," the man said as he turned back to the stars, his voice softening. "From the look in your eyes, I suppose that's not something you're agreeing with. And you're not wrong. Time's slippery."

The silence between them stretched, leaving only the gentle breeze to stir, and it carried the scent of the sea and the sky. Naruto shifted his weight, unsure whether to stay or leave. Something about the man's presence was soothing, even though his words were rather cryptic.

But now that Naruto looked at him closely, he was sure of it — he had never seen this person before. Yes, there was something hauntingly familiar about him, a quiet recognition that didn't make sense, but even then. It also reminded him of the strange feeling he had the first time he met Gojō, just some weeks ago (and how far it seemed already). Both men carried that same air of belonging and detachment, as though they existed in a different rhythm from the rest of the world.

No, perhaps it wasn't entirely true. Unlike Gojō, this one seemed to enjoy being in Uzushio. It was painted all over his face, his relaxed expression.

"I get it," the man said suddenly, his voice soft but clear. "Not entirely, maybe. But I remember being young, feeling like I was stuck in this place."

Naruto's brow furrowed, but he remained silent.

The man sighed, his gaze still fixed on the sky. "I hated it then," he admitted. "And maybe you do too. You already know the sound of the wind, the pattern of the waves — like they've become a part of you, whether you wanted them to or not."

Naruto hesitated, then nodded slightly. "...Yeah."

The man sighed, a slow, deliberate exhale, as though he was weighing every word before letting it loose. His eyes drifted from the stars, finally meeting Naruto's gaze.

"You remind me of myself then," he said, voice steady but laced with something deeper, something that sounded slightly worn and tired. "So much fire you can't see past the flame. It's almost admirable, in a way… but it's dangerous too."

Naruto stayed silent, bracing himself. He'd heard enough lectures this week; one more wouldn't kill him.

"You're young," the man continued, a knowing look in his eyes. "I know exactly how you'll take those words. I reacted the same way. But impatience... it's a kind of blindness. That's probably why my brother's so riled up."

"…Who are you?" Naruto finally asked. His voice was low, but the question carried weight. It wasn't one born of suspicion but of curiosity. "I don't think I've seen you before. And that means…"

The man chuckled, a grin pulling at the corner of his lips. "You're sharp, and that's dangerous too," he said with a glint of mischief. "I'm part of the escort — yours and Shinpachi's — to Konoha."

Naruto awoke at six and some on Wednesday morning, on the very same rooftop.

For a moment, he blinked in confusion, because the sun was in his eyes. He sat up quickly, feeling the warmth of a cover draped over him — something he didn't remember bringing. But there was no time to think about that. His heart dropped as the memory rushed back: the meeting was at seven.

He shot to his feet, tossing the cover aside before folding and stashing it, his mind already racing. Seven. Southernmost island — the small, ceremonial one where people rarely went. He scrambled toward the edge of the rooftop, barely catching himself before sliding down the steep slope. His shoes scuffed the tiles as he leaped to the ground, landing with a thud that sent a small jolt through his legs.

And then, he sprinted down the cobbled streets. The calm of the morning was lost to the frantic pace his feet set against the stone pathways. Buildings blurred past him, as he darted around corners, narrowly avoiding the few people out early. He reached home, slipped in silently to recover the packed travel scroll that had been provided to him, and hesitated in front of his mother's room...

And then left again.

He ran. The eastern docks weren't far now. He caught sight of the boats hovering at the edge of the island, suspended in the open sky by the great, woven ropes that stretched between the islands — already deployed today, they swayed gently in the wind, and the boats' hulls creaked softly. The ropes were like chakra arteries, pulsing with unseen energy. Each single boat was fitted with intricate seals and a powerful hook system that latched onto the ropes. With a focused release of chakra, the hooks would engage, and the boats would be pulled upward (or downward), gliding along the ropes with graceful precision. A quiet, seamless travel; unique to Uzushio, and supposedly reminiscent of their place of origin.

With a final burst of speed, Naruto launched himself toward the dock.

"I need to get to the southern island," he said to the dockhand, barely stopping to catch his breath.

The dockhand, an older man with sun-weathered skin, raised an eyebrow but untied the boat's ropes. "You're cutting it close, Naruto," he said, tossing the ropes aside as Naruto leaped aboard. "Everyone's there already."

Naruto nodded, too breathless to respond, and the boat pulled away from the dock. The wind whipped through his hair, but it was a smooth, stable ascension. The southern island loomed ahead, more distant than most but getting closer, and the rising sun was nearly blinding.

He gripped the sides of the boat, his knuckles turning white. Late, before he even left. The minutes seemed to stretch endlessly, and the water far, far below, was an endless field of blue…

As soon as they neared the dock, Naruto was on his feet, leaping from the boat before it even came to a full stop — and the dockhand shouted something rude at him. He stumbled as he landed but didn't break his stride, sprinting up the narrow path that led toward the meeting place: the only building on this island.

The wind howled around him as he climbed the steep incline, his legs burning slightly with each step. It shouldn't be this hard — and wouldn't have been, before. But there was no time to think about that, and nothing to regret anyway. Sweat dripped down his forehead, but he didn't slow down. His eyes were fixed on the building at the top of the hill, a simple structure with a broad stone terrace that overlooked the sea.

He burst through the entrance, gasping for breath. The room was already full. More than a dozen pairs of eyes turned toward him.

Including the Third Uzukage, who stood at the head of the room, long silver hair flowing like moonlight over her shoulders; expression unreadable. Lady Yume could be like that, a woman whose compassion was as fierce as her discipline. She was fire, and she was water; but before all that, she was Uzumaki.

Naruto straightened up, wiping the sweat from his brow. "My apologies, I—" Fell asleep on a rooftop? He swallowed the rest of the sentence.

Before he could flounder any further, the man from the night before — the one who had spoken with him under the stars — stepped in.

With an easy smile, he waved off the tension in the room. "That's on me. We were talking through the night," he said, his tone relaxed. "If anything, his being late is my fault. You all know I tend to ramble…"

Naruto blinked, momentarily stunned by the lifeline thrown his way. Grateful, he let out a quiet breath as the room eased back into the flow of conversation.

Shinpachi shot him a brief, disapproving glance. But with a small shake of his head, he turned his focus forward once more, to where the Uzukage stood. She was deep in conversation with another elderly woman Naruto didn't recognize; ruby-colored eyes, hair styled high with pins, and a face as weathered as any Naruto had ever seen. For an Uzumaki's hair to turn gray was a rare thing — proof of a life well-lived, especially by mainland standards. By that age, mainlanders were said to grow frail and bent, yet these two women radiated a quiet strength, formidable in their way. Some said the sharpest swords didn't dull with age; they only grew keener. Naruto thought he could see it.

Then again, perhaps it only applied here. The mainland was the mainland, and things were said to be different there.

As Naruto's eyes scanned the room, he spotted others he hadn't expected to see. Noboru stood among them, posture rigid, arms crossed as he listened intently. It was hard to ignore the tension radiating from him. Even though their gazes hadn't met (and wouldn't, throughout the entire ceremony), Naruto could feel the weight of Noboru's presence, like a distant storm looming just on the horizon. There was no warmth in the air around him, just a silent, stern intensity.

Naruto shifted uneasily, and the room suddenly felt smaller than it had when he'd burst in. His mind raced to catch up — he wasn't entirely surprised to see Noboru here, but still. It continued to feel like every misstep Naruto made was being watched, and judged. He pushed the thoughts aside, trying to steady himself as the proceedings continued, though the uneasy feeling lingered.

The hushed discussions went on for a while.

Naruto was running in circles in his head when he noticed the crowd quieting. He began wondering what he'd missed, why he felt like something was about to go wrong. His gaze swept the room again, trying to find the source of the unease.

"Two from the escort are still missing," Shinpachi told him quietly. "They should have been here already."

And indeed, there were empty spaces where they likely would have been stationed.

Before either of them could ask about it, the meeting was brought to a sudden halt. Someone at the front gestured for everyone to follow, and without much explanation, the room began to empty. They stepped outside into the cool morning air.

And as soon as he stepped out, he froze. A large crowd had gathered just beyond the building. Faces he hadn't expected to see — not here, not today — were scattered through the group. His friends stood among them, all eyes fixed on him — Shun, Little Hina, Yumi, Daichi, and more. They were waiting. For him, he was somehow certain of it. For a moment, Naruto wondered why he had felt so alone, so isolated here. And how much of it had been his own doing. He had mattered to people some, had he not…?

And then he saw her — his mother. Naruto's breath caught in his throat. She was standing near the edge of the crowd, arms folded, although not in the dismissive way of yesterday.

Almost as if she were trying to keep herself together.

There was not much anger in her gaze this time and only a hint of frustration. Mostly... resignation. It hit Naruto harder than he expected. For a moment, everything else — the missing escorts, the meeting, even Noboru's silent condemnation — faded.

All that was left was the sight of her, standing there despite their hurt and the chasm between them. He hadn't expected her to come, not after the argument. He had been ready to go without saying his goodbyes, even.

But now, seeing her here, it was like the skies had cleared, revealing the night hiding there. He could see the terrible worry etched in her features, the way she looked at him like she wasn't sure whether things would ever be better, but she had to be here for him anyway.

His throat tightened. Seeing her here shouldn't have mattered — he could handle himself — but somehow, it did.

He swallowed hard and took a step forward, with the rest of the precession, feeling the weight of the moment finally settle over him. Some of his friends shifted slightly, but none of them spoke among themselves. There was no banter, no teasing to ease the tension. Maybe they were all waiting for the Uzukage's speech, the kind of ceremonious address that usually marked significant moments like this. But it felt different today.

There was something somber in the air, something deeper than formalities. It wasn't just Naruto who sensed it, he was sure of it — everyone seemed to feel the same weight settling over them. The atmosphere was laden with it.

Naruto scanned the rest of the crowd, searching for something else to focus on, trying and failing to shake off the emotion creeping up on him.

A heavy hand settled on his shoulder, startling him.

For a brief second, he thought — hoped — it might be Noboru, offering some silent, stern acknowledgment. But when he glanced over, he saw it was the man from the night before — the one who had introduced himself as Ryūjin, his escort to Konoha.

The man who was Noboru's older brother.

"It'll be okay," Ryūjin said, his voice calm and steady.

Naruto wanted to believe him, but the unease still lingered in the pit of his stomach. He forced a smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. Ryūjin gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before letting go.

"It's unlike him to be late," he said.

"Him?" Naruto asked. "Just one man? I thought two people were missing."

"Well, yes," Ryūjin laughed. "But it's more in character for one of them."

His laugh lingered in the air, but it was short-lived. His expression sobered, and his eyes shifted toward the gathered crowd.

"Come on," Ryūjin said, his voice softer now, urging Naruto forward. "I think Lady Uzukage is done speaking. You should say your goodbyes now. You won't get another chance for a while."

Naruto's heart gave a small lurch at the thought, but he nodded. A large group was gathering around Shinpachi already, crying and embracing him.

Naruto's legs felt heavy as he stepped away from the conversation, making his way toward his friends first. They stood waiting for him, their faces expectant, though no one said anything at first. There was still no banter. Only quiet, almost understanding smiles.

Daichi was the first to step forward, clapping Naruto on the back with a grin that didn't quite hide the concern in his eyes. "You're going to be fine, you big loner," he said, with an edge of worry that lingered in his tone. "Send us letters from Konoha?"

Naruto chuckled, mostly to ease the tension, but his nod to Daichi — and the others — was genuine. Yumi was next, and she flashed him a wobbly grin.

"But don't forget to come back in one piece anyway," she teased, though her voice lacked its usual volume. Naruto smiled a bit, but beneath it, the knot in his chest tightened.

"We know you," Shun said, his words simple but full of sincerity. "There's no way you won't become a great shinobi." He paused. "…Or whatever else you would choose to become there."

He wasn't sure about Naruto's actual goals, of course. That was on Naruto.

And then there was Little Hina, wide-eyed and holding back tears as she stepped up last. She hesitated before wrapping her arms around his waist in a quick, tight hug. When she pulled back, her eyes were bright, but she was trying her best to be brave. "You are gonna come back, right?" she whispered.

Naruto crouched slightly to meet her gaze. "…I promise," he said softly.

Then Daichi stepped forward again, pulling something from behind his back. It was a small cloth-wrapped bundle, which he held out with both hands. "We all chipped in," Daichi said, his grin returning.

Naruto unwrapped the cloth to reveal a hand-carved wooden charm. It was simple but beautiful, etched with patterns of swirling waves — an Uzushio symbol.

Shun smiled. "It's for luck. To remind you that some part of us will be with you, no matter where you go."

Naruto's throat tightened as he stared at the charm. He ran his fingers over the smooth wood, not knowing what to say, only that something about the gesture made everything feel that much more real. Why had he stayed away from them…?

"Thank you," he said, his voice rougher than he intended. "I... I'll keep this with me."

No more words were needed. Growing up together, and the easy memories that came with it, spoke louder than anything they could say now. Naruto tucked the charm carefully into his pocket. But even as he stepped back, the knot in his chest hadn't eased.

One more goodbye.

Naruto's eyes drifted past the crowd until they found her. She was still standing there, near the outskirts, her arms folded loosely, her gaze steady on him. Naruto's breath hitched, and he swallowed hard as he walked toward her. Each step felt heavier than the last.

They hadn't spoken since their argument, and the words were still raw in his mind. But she was here, and somehow, that meant more than he could ever say.

When he reached her, she didn't speak right away. Instead, she unfolded her arms and stepped forward, holding out a small, leather-bound journal. The worn cover almost gleamed in the morning light, and the edges of the pages were slightly yellowed from use.

Naruto blinked, unsure what to say.

"Your father kept this," she finally said, her voice quiet but steady. "I believe he would've wanted you to have it. For your own journey. And... I want you to have it, too. Keep it safe."

She stressed the last word. Naruto stared at the journal, his throat tightening. His fingers traced the leather, and finally, the weight of everything hit him — the journey ahead, the unresolved tension between him and his mother, everything his father had left behind. It all crashed into him at once.

"Mom…" he started, wanting to say more, to say everything, but the words wouldn't come. Apologies, gratitude, love — they all knotted together in his chest, leaving him speechless. "Are you—"

"Shut up," she interrupted smoothly. "I should wring your neck for everything, you know?"

"…I think I got that."

She took a deep breath, her fists clenching for a moment before she exhaled. "I'm furious, Naruto. So angry I could scream." Her voice shook slightly as she continued, "But more than that, I'm afraid. Afraid for you."

"For me?"

"Of course," she replied flatly. "It seems you've somehow ended up even dumber than me."

Naruto flushed, sputtering, and opened his mouth to respond, but she held up a hand, stopping him mid-breath. "Don't." Her tone softened as their eyes met, and whatever anger had been there was gone, replaced by something deeper. Something that took him off guard.

"He wrote in this journal whenever he had the chance," she began, "not just about shinobi matters, but his thoughts, too — sad, happy, and everything in between. Scattered and a bit all over the place, just like he was. That's how I like to remember him."

Naruto's mind drifted then, unbidden, to memories of his father. His face, so easily called to memory — the easy, warm smile, the way the sun caught in his near golden hair, lighting it up like fire. He could still hear his voice, clear as day, with that calm strength behind every word. Naruto could even remember his father's smell — fresh, like the sea breeze that always seemed to follow him, the ocean you could almost see in his eyes.

He could still feel the weight of his father's hands on his shoulders, steadying him. Those same hands had guided him when he first learned to write, adjusting his grip on the brush with gentle patience. Later, those hands had taught him the first few symbols he'd ever mastered.

Naruto blinked, pushing back the sting in his eyes. He hadn't thought about those moments in so long, but now they swarmed him all at once.

His thoughts shifted to his mother. He remembered curling up in her lap by the campfire in their garden, resting his head against her chest as she hummed softly under her breath. Her arms had always felt so protective, so steady — back when the world still seemed simple and safe and happy. He could hear Yasaka laughing in the background, trying to tackle his father in one of their impromptu games.

Those memories felt like a different world now, a world where he wasn't trying to carry the weight of a future that scared him more than he let on.

His mother brushed his hair away. Her hand rested on his cheek, gentle but firm, pulling him out of his thoughts and back to the present.

"If you're to be a shinobi yourself..." she said softly. "If you're foolish enough to make the same choices I did. To step onto the road of sacrifice..."

Naruto's hand trembled slightly as he finally took the journal from her. His throat tightened again, the words still stuck somewhere between his heart and his mouth.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The fight they'd had just the day before seemed so small now, almost irrelevant. She was here. Despite everything — despite their words and stubborn pride — she was here.

"I'm sorry for what I said yesterday," she said quietly, but with a firmness that left no room for doubt. "I never meant to hurt you. I was angry. Scared. And I still am."

She exhaled slowly, the tremor in her breath betraying just how deeply these feelings ran.

"This is the path you've chosen, and there's nothing I can do to stop it anymore. If, after everything I've given up…" Her voice faltered, her eyes drifting to the side as if she were looking at something — or someone — beyond him. Maybe she was blaming the elders, or maybe it was the world itself. When she spoke again, there was a bitter edge to her voice. "…Well, I suppose none of it ever mattered."

"…Mom?"

"…From this day forward, you're a shinobi, Naruto," she said, closing her eyes briefly as if to steady herself. "…Be strong."

"Yes."

Naruto's mother shook her head, and when she smiled, it wasn't just bitter anymore. It wobbled, yes, but it was warm and gentle… and it cut through him like nothing else. "…You at least need to know this, too."

"Know what?"

"No matter where your path leads you, or how much I may disagree... I'll always be proud of you."

Naruto's breath hitched in his throat, his chest tightening as he blinked rapidly against the tears welling in his eyes. Her words left him momentarily speechless.

"Mom, I—" His voice broke, and for a moment, he didn't know what he wanted to say. A small, foolish part of him whispered that maybe he didn't have to leave after all. That things could be fine here, somehow. But he pushed it aside, forcing the words out as best as he could. "I'm sorry, too. For... everything. I… I haven't always been a good son."

Her expression softened even more; all the walls they'd built, they came tumbling down. Without a word, she reached out and pulled him into a familiar, warm embrace. The closeness, the comfort, nearly undid him.

"Oh, shut it. You don't need to apologize," she murmured, her thumb brushing lightly against his skin. "I just need you to come back. Safely. And to know that, no matter where you go or what happens, I'll be here. That's all."

A final round of handshakes, this time with his mother by his side, and Naruto finished saying his goodbyes to everything he had ever known.

There wasn't much left to say or think. Even as Lady Uzukage spoke, his mind wandered.

His travel scroll was packed, and anything truly important — things he couldn't risk losing — he'd already entrusted to Kaito, his faithful summon, for safekeeping. Yasaka had done the same, though knowing her hoarding tendencies, Naruto wouldn't be surprised if there was a dry room somewhere in the Deep, filled with her odd collection of trinkets.

He sniffled, absently wiping his cheek with the back of his hand.

Now, all that was left was to wait.

Naruto wasn't surprised to find Shinpachi perched at the cliff's edge, sitting on a stone with chakra keeping him anchored. His feet swung lazily over the impossibly high drop, and once again, Naruto wondered how they were supposed to reach the mainland. There was no land in sight, and there wouldn't be any for weeks.

"Hello again, Naruto," Shinpachi said, without turning away from the sea below.

"Hi," Naruto answered. "Do you feel ready?"

Shinpachi shrugged, a bit despondently. "I've said my farewells and asked to be left alone. But you can stay if you want."

The gathering had been large, filled with Shinpachi's parents, family, and friends. Most, Naruto hadn't known, but it was a reminder that Shinpachi had a life here. A life he hadn't truly wanted to leave behind.

"I'm sorry," Naruto said.

"Why?" Shinpachi muttered. "You didn't make me go — that's Konoha. What are you apologizing for?"

Naruto let out a small chuckle because this was about what he had expected from him, by now. "Even then."

"…I will be fine," Shinpachi said. "What about you?"

"I wanted to leave." Naruto paused, knowing that wasn't the question. "...I'll be fine, too."

"Good," Shinpachi replied. "That's good."

"The woman with Lady Yume, with red eyes... She's coming with us, isn't she?"

"Lady Shiori…? Yes, she's coming, of course." The name didn't stir any memories for Naruto — and that seemed to amuse Shinpachi slightly if the ghost of a grin that tugged at the corners of his lips was any indication. "…Truly?"

"I have never heard of her."

Shinpachi almost sighed again. "She's an old friend of Lady Mito and Lady Yume. They call her the Weaver of Memories."

"Why is that?" Naruto asked.

Shinpachi started to explain but suddenly stopped, his eyes flicking past Naruto. A soft murmur began to ripple through the crowd, quickly escalating into a palpable commotion. Naruto turned, sensing the shift. At the far end of the courtyard, a figure approached.

It was Gojō.

The wind toyed with his loose, sleeveless dark shirt and casual pants, the kind of non-standard outfit that signaled he didn't care much for formalities. His walk was confident, unaffected by the whispers, and his gaze sharp as always. Each step was deliberate, like everything he seemingly did.

But it wasn't Gojō causing the tension — or not only him, at least. Naruto's gaze landed on Denjo, the elder he had the misfortune of meeting before.

Naruto's breath caught as he saw Denjo's face. Something was terrifying in the man's expression, a furious darkness flickering behind his eyes, barely held back.

When Naruto's gaze drifted to Gojō again, he noticed it — a smear of purple lipstick on his neck, just above his collarbone, vivid against his bruised skin. A rather unique shade, Naruto thought, trying to remember where he had seen it. It was unmistakable, bold, something he couldn't forget—

His heart skipped a beat when the memory clicked into place. The woman he had seen with Gojō, just a few days before, had worn that same shade. And if she was who he thought she was… A slow realization crept in.

Denjo's daughter.

Naruto was young, but he wasn't entirely naive. It wasn't just a mark of affection; it was a provocation, a statement for all to see. Gojō wasn't just flaunting his arrival — he was flaunting his involvement with Denjo's daughter in front of him, in front of the entire crowd.

Naruto's eyes darted back to Denjo, whose gaze had locked onto Gojō like a hawk, his jaw clenched so tightly that Naruto swore he could hear the grinding of teeth from where he stood. Denjo's eyes were locked on the smear of purple for a few more instants before finally returning to Gojō's face. What simmered just beneath the surface of Denjo's expression, threatening to boil over, was more than just the clear enmity Naruto had already noticed last time. It was something more dangerous.

It was the kind of hatred that made men reckless.

The tension wasn't just between Gojō and Denjo anymore — it had seeped into the air, pressing down on the entire courtyard like a storm ready to break.

After a few casual greetings, including respectful nods to Ryūjin and Noboru, Gojō came to a stop a few paces away from Denjo. The young man's face was deceptively calm, indifferent. With a casual swipe, he wiped the lipstick from his neck with his thumb.

"Oops," he said. "Seems I've gotten some ink on me."

Denjo's fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles turning bone white, and Naruto's gut felt full of ice—

"You're late, Gojō," Lady Yume cut in, her frown deepening. Whether oblivious to the tension or considering it beneath her, her disapproval was unmistakable. Just as her authority was clear; it brought everything to a standstill.

"Apologies, Lady Yume," Gojō replied. "Since the golden boy hasn't arrived yet, I thought I might—"

"You thought wrong. And this behavior is in rather poor taste."

"…Of course." This time, his bow was lower, more sincere. "I apologize again."

Naruto shifted uncomfortably, glancing away as the exchange wrapped up.

His gaze eventually landed on his mother. Her eyes were fixed on Gojō, her expression hard to read, as though she was wrestling with the urge to say something.

Naruto noticed her fingers tapping rhythmically against her arm — she was agitated. He glanced back at Gojō, wondering if he had noticed, too. Sure enough, Gojō's eyes flicked toward Kushina for the briefest moment, and in that second, his confident mask slipped ever so slightly. He quickly looked away, avoiding her gaze.

"…He's coming with us too, isn't he?" Naruto asked Shinpachi quietly.

Shinpachi nodded, his expression calm. "Of course. Have you not been told about this either…?"

"Not officially," Naruto muttered, irritation creeping into his voice. "I guess I wasn't important enough to be informed."

"Ah," Shinpachi said, shifting somewhat awkwardly — which was rare, for him. "For what it's worth, Gojō is… well-suited for the journey. His skills are something to behold."

"…Yes, I know."

When Naruto glanced back at Gojō, his confident mask was firmly back in place — the usual air of indifference settled comfortably around him.

"—Don't worry," Gojō said brightly to one of the elders nearby, flashing a disarming smile. "I am and always will remain a good dog."

The elder didn't seem entirely convinced, if Naruto was honest. His brow furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line, disapproval barely hidden beneath the surface of polite indifference.

Ryūjin, standing beside Gojō, let out a quiet sigh, resting a hand on his shoulder with a gentle squeeze. "Why don't we all try to get along for just one day?"

It seemed to be mostly for the younger man's sake.

Gojō, appearing almost boyish beside Ryūjin, maintained a steady smile. Naruto noticed that, surprisingly, he didn't remove the hand. "I don't know what you mean, old-timer. I'm always on my best behavior."

Naruto's unease deepened. He didn't know what exactly was going on between these people — only that there was something. He made a mental note to ask Shinpachi about it later. Kushina, still tense, hadn't shifted her gaze from Gojō either. From the side, Lady Shiori, observing quietly, sighed like someone resigned to step in when Lady Yume wouldn't.

Gojō's faint, knowing expression resurfaced. "Ah, and there we go."

And then, without warning, before Naruto could process what he meant, the air shifted.

The wind, once calm, stirred violently, whipping through the courtyard with unnatural force. The sky darkened, clouds gathering in an ominous swirl overhead. It happened so fast that Naruto barely had time to react. A deafening crack split the air, lightning flashing in a blinding arc that lit up the courtyard.

The impact was immediate. The ground beneath them trembled, and the sky roared in fury; a massive bolt of lightning struck the earth with explosive force. The courtyard was thrown into chaos — gasps, shouts, the scrape of feet moving backward as everyone instinctively braced themselves. The energy was overwhelming, crackling with raw, unrestrained power. But not meant to be harmful.

There, standing at the center of the strike, as the light slowly faded, was a man.

He stood tall, with long red hair blazing in the gusting wind, and white robes billowing like clouds caught in the storm. His presence alone silenced the courtyard, the whispers and murmurs dying instantly in the face of his arrival.

His nearly glowing eyes swept across the gathered crowd with a presence that couldn't be questioned. Power radiated from him, nearly palpable, suffocating in its intensity. Although his chakra senses were effectively gone, Naruto didn't need them to understand what was in front of him.

He knew this man. Or rather, he had heard stories — one of Uzushio's legendary S-rank shinobi, revered even among the elite.

The man's eyes paused, searching, and whatever he sought, he found. His expression softened into something entirely unexpected — a gentle, kind smile. Naruto blinked, surprised at the warmth in those eyes.

"Well then," Nagato said, his voice carrying effortlessly over the courtyard. "Shall we?"

lensdump

i/vJmgWm : Ryūjin

AN: Meeting the team. If anyone's name feels familiar for some reason, I don't know what to tell you...

Next chapter: Departure