"When dawn fades to day and shadows turn to dust,
all that remains is the quiet burn of man's will.
For Konoha, I pledge my blade, my blood, my breath.
I carry Fire's light, a flame against the coming dark.
I am the Hokage's man, unyielding and true."

高

度

13 — ALTITUDES

THEY WERE OVER FIVE KILOMETERS up in the sky, atop a machine more foreign than anything Naruto had ever imagined; the wooden frame beneath them creaked and swayed, caught between the howling winds above and the humming machinery below, and Gojō seemed ready to go for a nap.

"Welcome back, Lord Retsu," a velvet-coated attendant greeted them, voice nearly drowned out by the roaring wind. His dark coat flapped violently, yet his composure was practiced and almost graceful. "I mark trace your... journey has been present?"

That was what Naruto assumed he had said, at least.

Unfortunately, the last time he had spoken the common tongue, Kyosei, he'd been around six or perhaps seven, offering his slightly dismayed father wild guesses about Uzushio slang with Yasaka. Now, exposed to the sky, with the biting winds clawing at his ears and altitude slowly giving him a rather bad headache, Naruto was struggling.

Oh, he had tried practicing it recently, of course. There were a few books in Uzushio that were imported from the mainland. But it had been a rather short time since he had learned he truly might leave, and there had been many other things to learn, too. Or perhaps it was all justification for the lack of progress he felt he had made with the subject — it had all seemed rather different from what he remembered.

Naruto turned to Shinpachi, almost hoping that he'd be in a similar bind. The only thing Shinpachi offered him was a slight pursing of his lips as he noticed Naruto's expression. It was somewhat amusing, Naruto had to admit. Too bad it still left him stuck in this place of confusion.

"What does your hand look like?" Nagato asked the attendant with a light bow.

Naruto focused, trying to piece together the sounds into something coherent. But it was like trying to stitch together a shredded banner; the words fluttered and scattered in his mind.

"Indeed, Lord Retsu," the attendant replied, voice nearly lost in the wind, "we are pleased to say the condiments will arrive beyond the chimes?"

"A pleasure," Nagato said. "Yes, the bridge to laughter… mingles with the afternoon's... reverence."

Naruto squinted. Was that supposed to mean anything or...? He shot a quick look at Shinpachi again, whose face was impassive as ever, except for that slight, traitorous twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"Yes, of course,"Nagato replied politely to something Naruto hadn't heard at all, and probably wouldn't have understood anyway,"for the symmetrical greetings have indeed ripened. Your ornaments are especially magnanimous, given the altitudes?"

There wasn't much to do here, Naruto felt. He gave the attendant his best polite smile when the time came, and let Nagato handle the talking, keeping the attention on him. As had been planned, really.

Most of the others noticed Naruto's struggle, however.

"If you don't speak Kyosei at all," Gojō said dryly in their common dialect, "I assume we can forget about you knowing Honōgo, too."

Naruto flushed. "I'm just out of practice. I used to understand Kyosei a bit," he mumbled, then deflated. "Not Honōgo, though."

"One should be fine," Ryūjin said, chuckling. "I don't speak Honōgo either. Most natives of the Land of Fire won't bother with Honōgo either, especially when you'll be such an obvious foreigner."

"Obvious how?" Even Shinpachi has removed his ofuda earrings.

"Yourhair."

The notion that most Uzumaki stood out wherever they went only fully hit Naruto then. "Shit."

Shiori shot him a disapproving look for the profanity, while Gojō laughed, "How could you not know that?"

"I've heard there's all kinds of strange hair colors out there," Naruto said defensively.

"Maybe don't call them strange," Gojō quipped, "when you look like a matchstick yourself."

"I don't look like a matchstick," Naruto hissed angrily.

Especially not now, with the illusion supposedly masking their appearances — though Naruto couldn't tell. To him, everyone's hair still looked red — aside from Shiori's ash-white — but the attendant, as well as anyone else, was supposed to see something different, something that let them blend in as anything but typical Uzumaki.

"Don't worry, cherryhead," Ryūjin said with a laugh, hand falling atop Naruto's head. "We all do."

"I don't," Gojō said, dramatically flicking his well-kept burgundy hair. "Burgundy flows down; threads of dusk and embers burn; golden eyes shine bright."

There was a beat of silence, and Shiori looked away.

"Huh," Ryūjin finally let out. "You didn't mess up the count this time. Color me impressed."

Gojō raised an eyebrow. "Five, seven, five — even in dialect, how could I possibly fuck it—"

Nagato, seemingly engrossed in conversation with the attendant, threw a quick, sharp remark over his shoulder — in Kyosei. Gojō's brow furrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line.

"…What'd he say?" Naruto asked, catching the smirk on Ryūjin's face. "Something about crassness?"

"Just that he's glad Gojō leaves diplomacy to him," Shinpachi murmured, a hint of amusement tugging at his lips.

Gojō shrugged. "I'm actually rather decent at diplomacy."

"Right," Ryūjin said with a wry grin. "Let's not put that to the test just yet."

"You areunprepared," Shiori said suddenly, her voice sharp. And she had a way of making it sound like the worst character flaw in the world. Naruto hoped, for just a moment, that she was addressing Gojō. But her eyes were locked on him. "Poorly equipped and ill-taught for what lies ahead."

Naruto felt a prickling defensiveness rise but held it back, swallowing the instinct to argue. "I… thought I was learning quickly."

"Quickly," she repeated, her tone neither harsh nor forgiving, "is apparently not enough. You'll face more than just friendly faces in Konoha. Every step you take, every word you utter, will carry weight."

"…Yes, Ma'am."

"We start practicing Kyosei the moment we reach our rooms," she declared. "Uzushio cannot be misrepresented."

"Yes, Ma'am," Naruto said, with more conviction. "But what about Honōgo—"

"Bah," she waved a hand dismissively. "Unless you plan on mingling with farmers in the far reaches of the Land of Fire, I'd suggest you put your focus where it matters."

It wasn't the answer he'd expected from her, and Naruto blinked, momentarily thrown off balance.

"If you're truly determined to fuss over that," Shiori added, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "…Go and bother Mito with it once we reach. She'llloatheit."

Naruto laughed, a genuine, unexpected laugh.

The airship belongedto the Land of Iron, a nation that was, by all accounts, nearly truly neutral — a rare feat that deserved to be underlined.

Tetsukaze-07, otherwise known asSilent Tempest. It was said to be a marvel of their engineering, crafted from a blend of ironwood and steel; a quiet fortress in the sky.

Unlike traditional airships with soft, flexible balloons, the Silent Tempest was a rigid model — a massive, armored shell that housed the main compartments within a skeletal framework. As such, it held a larger crew, with space for slightly more than eighty passengers and crew members within its layered, structured hull. The outer shell was armored with chakra-treated canvas and steel plating, making it highly resistant to environmental wear and most forms of attacks. The internal compartments were integrated into the airframe itself, creating a seamless flow from one section to the next.

A skeleton crew of engineers and samurai worked in rotating shifts, ensuring that the four powerful turbines kept the craft gliding with ghostly silence, even at high altitudes. The turbines were embedded in the iron framework as well, each held within armored housing, minimizing vibration indoors and contributing to the airship's quiet, undisturbed movement.

It was, in a way, a metaphorical representation of the Land of Iron's philosophy of quiet strength.

Built as a floating diplomatic outpost and surveillance vessel, the airship was crafted for endurance rather than combat. It could remain aloft for weeks with minimal upkeep; patience over aggression. It was equipped with heat-sensitive sensors, and excelled at tracking movements and assessing threats from afar — a crucial advantage in contested regions.

Now, the Silent Tempest hovered high above the Frostspire Ocean, on its way back. Their mission, nearing its end, had been to investigate unusual disturbances in the frozen waters below — an unexplained phenomenon that had not gone unnoticed by the Land of Iron. Whatever the cause, Naruto didn't know — only that the Land of Iron would undoubtedly remain vigilant.

It was what Nagato had told them, at least. The recording part was already over, and the airship was flying back to its origin point.

No, what mattered more was the following: for the sake of filling unused capacity, the Land of Iron allowed limited civilian and client travel on special missions, as long as they wouldn't compromise the neutrality or purpose of the vessel. That usually meant travel to and from the Land of Lightning, but not only. These travelers — scholars, envoys, merchants — helped to fill unused capacity while subtly reinforcing the Land of Iron's alliances... And its neutrality.

Using assumed names and matching, forged Tsuko-tegata — identity certificates issued directly by Konoha, which, as Gojō had pointed out with amusement, would be held responsible should anything happen — Nagato had secured a few of these coveted tickets (and they sold for a rather high price, apparently) and, even more remarkably, arranged a delayed boarding for the five others. For the duration of the trip, Nagato would be known as Retsu, Naruto as Kazuki, Shinpachi as Takeshi, Shiori as Tsukiko, Ryūjin as Hayato, and Gojō—

"Really?" Gojō asked, lips curling in distaste. "Of all names. Denjo?"

Nagato winced slightly. "I wasn't aware of any… complications between you two, in particular, then."

The six of them were situated inside the lower section of the rigid balloon, on the upper deck, in the diplomatic suite usually reserved for high-ranking officials. This suite was an open, airy space with minimalist furnishings — tatami mats covering the floor, low wooden tables, and shoji screens that could be adjusted to partition the room for privacy. There were also several layers of barriers around the room, but those had been erected by the four adults.

Naruto was only half-tuned to the lively exchange between Gojō, Nagato, and Ryūjin. Their voices blended into a background murmur, easily overtaken by the task at hand. Barely an hour aboard the airship, just after being shown to their quarters — his exploration limited to a glimpse of the inner staircase — Shiori had wasted no time keeping her word and cornering him. And so, Naruto was currently deep into language lessons.

Much like sealing logic, the Uzumaki dialect,Uminokoe, was crafted to leave no room for misunderstanding. It strove for complete clarity, for each word to align meaning with intent, to ensure nothing was left open to interpretation. The Uzumaki, in spite of what Naruto would eventually learn was their reputation in the mainland, valued precision. Theirs was the belief that words should carry exactly what they meant, no more, no less.

Sentences inUminokoewere direct, almost stark when compared to most other languages, with little room for embellishment, and perhaps it was why Gojō — who didn't seem quitethatfond of Uzushio and seemed in a much better mood outside of it — enjoyed the mainland's poetry. In Uzushio, emotion wasn'tnormallyimplied through words, but usually stated outright; if someone was angry, it was rather clear, and chances were they would say so plainly, even. Honorifics, when used, were explicit, marking family, position, or allegiance without a trace of subtlety.

In sharp contrast, the common tongue ofKyosei felt like a labyrinth to Naruto. Words shifted in meaning and intent with subtle (to him, at least) inflections, layers of nuance he found hard to grasp without access to the shared cultural psyche — that, it seemed, would require being fully immersed in the culture for years.

"...Isn't that what I just said?" Naruto asked, feeling frustration creep into his voice.

"It would depend. Say it again," Shiori urged, unwavering.

"Thank you,"he repeated, in what he hoped was passable Kyosei.

Shiori shook her head, frowning. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because," she said, looking at him with a mixture of patience and exasperation, "you implied inconvenience — and the way you said it compounds that fact. What you said is understood as 'It must have taken a lot of your time.' Is that what you meant to say?"

"No, I meant to say 'thank you.'"

"Then it's'thank you,'" she repeated. What little difference Naruto could pick up on, he attributed to her crisp, deliberate enunciation.

Naruto grimaced. "But I thought this one meant—" He stopped himself, his shoulders slumping in resignation, and repeated it the same way she'd just done, mimicking even her crisp tone.

"Better." She glanced at him. "Help me with this task?"

"Yes."

Shiori nearly sighed. "Did you mean to say, 'Perhaps I'll consider it?' Because that's what it sounded like."

Naruto groaned, pressing a hand to his forehead. "Why is this so complicated?"

"It isn't," Shinpachi said, ever so helpfully.

If he had spoken in the common tongue, Naruto would have scowled at him. But he hadn't, and with Shiori's eyes fixed on him, Naruto held back, choosing instead to refocus on the messy scrawl of notes (his own) before him. It felt as though he were starting from scratch.

Because what his father had taught him wasn't the true common tongue, just fragments of Kyosei — a simplified version built more around ideas than conversation.

Shiori was right, and Uzushio's approach to language wasn't like other lands'. His father had taught him symbols and concepts, a limited Kyosei that worked well enough for seals and simple stories and yes, maybe, for the light novels Yasaka liked. But Naruto wondered now how much of those novels he'd simply filled in with guesswork. In conversation, this "Kyosei" fell apart. It was just bits and pieces, shortcuts for meaning, enough for seals and a few old stories. He'd never realized how much he was missing.

Some characters felt familiar enough to make him guess at meanings, like shadows that hinted at shapes. But there was often something off, even with the familiar ones — a character twisted just so, a symbol with a second meaning he couldn't reach. And in this maddening language, even the slightest shift changed everything.

In written form, at least, he could find scraps in common with Uminokoe, Uzushio's dialect, which had borrowed bits from the dialects of Fire (the Eastern Fire dialect, not Honōgo, which was spoken in Konoha, that was in Central Fire) and Water (Western Water, if that mattered). Uzushio had added its own quirks to these over time.

"In Uzushio," Naruto muttered, "a word means what it says. This... this language is like dragging the whole Five Nations along with it."

Shiori smiled faintly, but it was Shinpachi who replied, with a smile. "Because it does… in a way. Kyosei is said to be a thousand years old."

Naruto's brow furrowed. "So… it just piled up meanings over time?"

"Not exactly," Shiori said, her voice patient. She seemed to enjoy this sort of inquiry. "Kyosei was crafted by an Empress long ago. She drew from the languages of her age, blending what she needed. It has evolved with every shift in the world."

"Why would anyone make this?" Naruto asked. "Six languages, at least... jumbled into one."

"The Empress who created it was said to enjoy irony," Shiori replied. "She ruled most of the known land then… and had a taste for wordplay. And misdirection."

"When used correctly, words have power," Shinpachi added. "People believed it, then. Maybe she designed this duality — or plurality, rather — in Kyosei to keep that power close to her. To keep others guessing."

Shiori tilted her head thoughtfully. "If the legends are true, perhaps. History twists things, after all."

Naruto frowned, refocusing on his notes. He traced the characters with a mix of frustration and curiosity. Shinpachi watched him struggle, then continued, "Interestingly," he began, and Naruto was already wary, knowing the kinds of things Shinpachi found interesting. "In Kyosei, you divide actions by whether they're sudden, prolonged, or unfinished. You don't just 'arrive' — you either suddenly arrive, gradually arrive, or are still in the process of arriving."

Naruto's brows knitted, though a part of him found that detail oddly useful — if problematic to learn. "So… it's not just what happens, but how it happens?"

"Yes," Shiori nodded. "This part supposedly came from the Land of Earth. Perhaps this, we should have borrowed. It may sound dull, but it keeps things clear." She paused. "Much like them."

Naruto sighed; Shiori explained that in Kyosei, endure can mean survive, but said too softly, meant surrender, and it was all too easy to insult someone without meaning to; Shinpachi told him that in Kyosei, there were some beliefs about direction, that going 'north' suggested perseverance, and going 'south'impliedresignation. And so, they spent the afternoon.

The next two days rolled on like this as well, blurring into a pattern; hour into the next in a haze of ink, parchment, and spoken word.

To speed up his progress with Kyosei, along with memory tags, all of the others stopped speaking Uminokoe entirely. Immersing him in the unfamiliar rhythm of the new language. The world outside their quarters faded away, reduced to the room they shared, Naruto's sparse corner in it, and a constant cycle of words and phrases that only barely began to make sense.

Under Shiori's sharp, efficient guidance, Naruto fumbled through each lesson, her voice unwavering as she corrected him.

"Again," she would say, and he'd begin once more, struggling to shape new, unfamiliar syllables until they became less so, and yes, I think I hear a slight difference, if I squint hard enough and willingly delude myself.

Her methods never truly softened, though there was something steadying in her exacting approach. She pushed him without mercy, choosing precision instead, honing each mistake into something that would someday hopefully be close to fluency.

Shinpachi, too, played his part helpfully, although he had no reason to. By then, Naruto had grown used to his meticulous notes and found some comfort in Shinpachi's carefully drawn characters, even if deciphering Kyosei still felt like grasping at straws.

Ryūjin took a different approach, perhaps less academic than the others — he didn't bother with the written language with Naruto, favoring spoken words instead. He spoke with a measured clarity, ensuring Naruto could at least follow, and get used to the language's inner cadence.

Gojō, however, was less accommodating. He spoke swiftly, never slowing his words or bothering with clear enunciation. "That's how mainlanders speak," he'd say with a grin, as Naruto stumbled to keep up, suspecting the man was simply messing with him. Still, the forced speed seemingly pushed him differently, forcing Naruto's ears and mind to adapt, to feel the words rather than dissect them — as he was prone to.

Nagato was a shadow in those two days, lingering at the edges, more presence than person. Supposedly, he was ensuring their safety.

Shiori, of course, was relentless.

Finally, on the third day, Nagato returned, a shadow at the door. "The airship is secure."

Naruto blinked against the fog of exhaustion weighing down his mind and body, his gaze strained and unfocused.

"Is… Are you well?" Nagato asked him, and Naruto took a moment to piece the words together. He took another to realize why that was.

"No," Gojō replied, almost gleeful, in the language Naruto was learning — and cursing — with every breath. "In the common tongue, remember?"

"Right." Nagato nodded, shifting to Kyosei with the practiced ease Naruto had come to expect from the others — save maybe Shinpachi, who had likely never truly needed to speak it outside of hypothetical practice before (but had undoubtedly had access to books Naruto could only imagine). "I suppose the language learning is going well, then. The flight should last three more days. And as I said, I haven't found any direct threat."

"Meaning...?" Naruto asked, not bothering with a complicated sentence he'd likely mess up in some creative way.

Nagato offered a faint smile. "Meaning that, as long as you're with one of us, you're free to leave the cabin."

Naruto blinked, hope stirring. "Really?"

Nagato smiled. "Unless, of course, you'd rather stay put."

Naruto gave the only answer he couldn't get wrong. "No."

Gojō let out a bark of laughter as he stood. "Good. I'll come along, then. Any longer stuck in here with the geriatrics and you two kids, and I'd go stir-crazy."

"Oh, hells above, must you always talk about Sealing?" Gojō groaned as they walked down the hallway, wearing an exaggerated expression of agony Naruto felt was entirely unwarranted.

"Not always," Naruto muttered, a bit defensive.

"Sure, sure." Gojō rolled his eyes. "If it's not Sealing, then it's questions from you that'll get me in trouble someday."

There was no question what he meant.

"How so?" Naruto asked, carefully arranging the words in his head. "I can't even talk about it."

Gojō's gaze sharpened instantly. "You're pushing it just by mentioning it," he warned. "Do us both a favor: don't."

Naruto opened his mouth but closed it just as quickly, realizing there was nothing he could — or should — say. They walked on in silence, the hallway seeming to stretch longer than he'd expected. Evening light poured in, casting a warm orange glow around them. After days sealed away from natural light for safety, the sight felt oddly comforting to Naruto.

As they neared a bend in the hallway, Naruto caught sight of someone — a girl about his age with dark hair tied back. She was leaning slightly against a window frame, watching the sunset with an air of quiet curiosity. When she noticed him looking, she smiled, her eyes warm. Then, to his surprise, she raised a hand in a small wave.

Naruto hesitated, but returned the wave with an awkward one of his own. The moment was brief, but it lingered in his mind as he and Gojō continued walking.

"Any issues so far?" Gojō asked brusquely.

"What?"

Gojō raised an eyebrow. "What do you think I'm talking about?"

Naruto shook his head. "No… I don't — understand. What you just said." They hadn't switched back to the dialect, and Naruto was wondering if they even would.

"Ah." To Naruto's surprise, Gojō slowed his speech a little. "I know I just said not to mention it, but — Oh, whatever, come along with me and ask me all that, then. I'm sure you have a few questions. I could also check your seal if you want." He hesitated, then added, "Though maybe not in public. My reputation's in tatters as it is; I don't need people thinking I'm checking out young boys."

"What?"

"What?"

"Not funny," Naruto muttered. "…Thank you, Gojō."

"That's the wrong expression," Gojō pointed out dryly. "Unless you meant to say it took a lot of—"

"Thank you," Naruto said, this time with the right expression and the right intonation.

"Whatever," Gojō said, smiling a bit. "Let's go get something to eat."

They went down the staircase, heading to the dining room for the first time since they'd arrived, and Naruto felt a small, tentative spark of hope stirring within him again.

lensdump:

i/vu5qVC : Tetsukaze-07 — Silent Tempest

i/vX6ZyF : Language Lessons

Annex — On Language and Dialects

Honōgo
Honōgo is primarily spoken in the central regions of the Land of Fire, particularly in the vicinity of Konoha. It forms an integral part of the linguistic identity of that area, being utilized for local governance, cultural practices, and daily discourse among the inhabitants.

Kyosei
Often referred to as the common tongue, Kyosei is the predominant language across the Five Nations. It was originally crafted to amalgamate cultural and linguistic elements from all significant regions, thereby fostering greater unity. The language possesses a layered structure, making it inherently nuanced and susceptible to misinterpretation. Over time, Kyosei has evolved largely independent of the regional dialects, which adds further complexity to its usage and understanding.

Uminokoe
Uminokoe, the dialect of Uzushio and the Uzumaki clan, is distinguished by its directness and precision. It endeavors to ensure each word precisely conveys its intended meaning, thereby leaving no room for ambiguity. This characteristic is a reflection of the Uzumaki's cultural emphasis on clarity and exactitude in communication.

Thus writes Shiori of the Kizoku-ke, on the second day of February, in the Year 186 of the Fire Cycle.

Annex — On Kyosei

I hate this.

Thus writes Naruto of the Hōshi-ke, on the twelfth day of May, in the Year 211 of the Fire Cycle.

Next chapter: Sealed Art