A/N: Can anyone see this? Site glitches are acting up again, hiding new chapters...
Dark is now helping me with RWBY stuff, hence this chapter. Sorry if it seems shorter, we've both very busy.
If I didn't have cowriters helping me, I'd never be able to get anything done these days. Speech to text is a godsend right now.
That said, I hope you enjoy this chapter.
So by all means, speak up! Your voice matters! Make yourself heard! As ever, reviews are the fuel that sustain me. Without them I cannot write a single word. Simple as that. Working nearly all hours of the day keep me absurdly busy, and I can't bring myself to write something folks don't like.
Alright them, I think I've kept you long enough.
Hope you're ready; because from this point on? Weeell...!
As ever, I own no references, quotes, themes or memes.
They're tributes, one and all.
Now off we go.
"Oh, my...
~Salem.
For Better or Worse
Salem sat, the fire of her magic dimming in the wake of Kurama's command.
The towering fox head, formed of golden chakra, hovered before her, its piercing gaze more ancient than the ruined world around them. She had met many creatures in her long, cursed existence—seen gods, defied them, lost everything for her defiance—but never had she encountered anything quite like him. His presence was as tangible as her own power, vast, oppressive, yet oddly restrained, as though he had learned the delicate art of patience over time.
Naruto remained slumped against the tree, his chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths. The fool had taken her magic head-on, and yet he had survived. More than that, he had endured. Salem, for all her power and immortality, had no such recklessness. His resilience unnerved her.
Kurama exhaled, a low rumbling sound that reverberated through the broken landscape, carrying with it the weight of countless years, of battles fought and lost, of wisdom hard-earned.
"So, you want to know about the boy?"
Salem folded her arms, tilting her chin ever so slightly, her expression betraying no emotion. "I would know the truth."
The fox scoffed, his eyes narrowing, his form shifting ever so slightly, the golden aura around him flickering like an ancient flame refusing to die. "Then listen well, former Queen, because I won't say it twice."
And so the story unfolded—slowly, methodically. No embellishments, no theatrics, just cold, painful truth.
Kurama spoke of a lonely boy who ran through the streets of a village that both birthed and abandoned him. A child marked from birth, not with a crown but with a burden, one he had never chosen. A vessel for power he had never asked for, cast aside by those who should have protected him. He spoke of hunger, of cold nights, of glares that cut deeper than any blade.
Salem saw it all.
Not in fleeting images, not as an outsider peering through a window, but as if she had lived it herself. A boy, small for his age, scrounging for scraps, enduring fists and whispers, learning to smile not because he was happy, but because no one would care if he wasn't. She had thought herself acquainted with pain, but this? This was something else.
She clenched her fists, but Kurama pressed on.
Naruto grew, chasing ghosts of affection, latching onto fools who would never acknowledge him. A child searching for warmth in a world that had none for him. He reached for hands that would never hold his, smiled at faces that turned away, and begged—if not in words, then in the quiet, desperate way only the forsaken understand.
The world conspired against him as it often did against the strong.
It whispered his name like a curse, turned its back on him, cast him in shadows he had never earned.
And yet, he refused to break.
He fought for a place that had never wanted him, bled for those who would have let him rot, and still, he smiled. Still, he forgave.
Salem had lived long enough to see the sins of mankind stack high enough to blot out the sky. She had watched men destroy themselves for greed, for hatred, for power, watched them carve their own graves with the cruelty of their own hands. She had seen love turn to ash, had watched the righteous fall, had learned that suffering and loneliness were the only true currency of the world.
But this?
This was either the work of a saint or the worst kind of fool.
And yet…
She saw how he changed.
How he forced the world to see him.
How he carved a path for himself not through cruelty, not through conquest, but through sheer, relentless will. He had every right—every reason—to become the very monster they had feared. The world had given him no kindness, no mercy. Had they broken him, she would not have judged him for it. Had he burned them down, she would have understood.
But he had chosen something else.
He had chosen to be kind.
And then it came…
The war.
The gods of his world may not have wiped out mankind, but they had done their best to break him. They had tested him with loss, with death, with burdens no mortal should have carried. He had faced demons, men, legends—had stood against the heavens themselves and dared to demand better.
She saw him at his lowest, when despair clawed at his soul, when grief threatened to swallow him whole. She saw him at his highest, when he burned like the sun, untouchable, unstoppable, carrying the will of a thousand dead on his back.
She saw him die.
And return.
She saw him laugh in the face of despair, stand when all others had fallen, reach out his hand to those who had wronged him time and time again.
And at the end of it all, when the dust had settled, when he should have known peace, he had been taken.
Ripped from his home.
Thrown into a world that had nothing for him.
And yet—
He had built something here.
Not out of conquest, not out of ambition, not for power or recognition.
Simply because he wished to live.
A cabin, small but sturdy.
A fence, rough but standing.
A garden, humble but thriving.
A home.
Salem exhaled, the weight of it pressing into her chest in a way she hadn't expected.
Alone.
He had built it alone.
A cabin, a fence, a garden, a home.
Not built out of conquest, not out of ambition, not carved from the bones of the fallen or forged in the fires of power.
Simply because he wished to live.
Salem pressed a hand to her chest, blinking past the ache curling in her ribs. It wasn't sorrow. No, sorrow was familiar, something she had drowned in so many times before that it no longer had the strength to pull her under. This was different. More dangerous. More consuming.
It was an understanding she had not wanted, had not expected.
It was an ache that had nothing to do with power or conquest or gods.
It was human.
Kurama watched her, unblinking, his molten eyes burning with a knowing that unsettled her. Not in the way of an enemy, not in the way of something waiting to strike, but in the way of something that had already seen the path she was walking.
"You see now?" he rumbled, his voice a weight upon the air. "He's not like you."
Not yet, was left unspoken.
Salem swallowed, her throat tight. She wanted to argue, wanted to deny it, but the words felt hollow before she could even shape them.
"No."
Kurama's lips curled back, a sharp grin that was not mocking, not cruel, but knowing. A predator's smile, yes, but one that carried something close to amusement, as if he had seen this realization dawn in others before her.
"But he could be," the fox murmured.
He certainly could. And that was the crux of it, wasn't it?
Naruto, with all his strength, all his will, could have been something monstrous. The world had given him every reason, every excuse to become what she had become after losing Ozma. To let his pain harden into something jagged, something unyielding, something that cut through everything in its path.
He could have been cruel.
But he wasn't.
Despite everything—despite the hatred, the loneliness, the loss—he had remained something else. Something better.
Something she had lost long ago.
A groan cut through the silence, breaking it like glass.
Naruto stirred.
One moment, she was kneeling.
The next, she was wrapped around him, her arms curling tight, her face buried against his shoulder.
"Idiot," she hissed, voice thick with something she refused to name. "Moron! Buffoon! You reckless, stubborn fool! What were you thinking?!"
Naruto, still groggy, tensed at the contact for only a second before a sigh rumbled through his chest, slow and steady, as if grounding himself in her presence. His arm, warm and steady, settled over her back in quiet acceptance. Not hesitant. Not questioning. Just there.
Kurama chuckled, the sound deep and amused. "Well, well. Looks like you've gone and broken her, brat."
Salem ignored the fox, pressing closer, feeling the steady beat of Naruto's heart beneath her palm. He was here. He was real. He was alive. And, for reasons she did not care to examine, that mattered more than it should have.
She had spent lifetimes watching the world take and take and take. Had seen good men crumble, seen love turn to dust, seen hope snuffed out before it could bloom. The universe was cruel. Unforgiving. It chewed people up and left only ghosts behind.
Naruto should have been one of those ghosts.
He wasn't.
And that was why she held him tighter, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket as if he might disappear if she let go.
Naruto, for his part, merely ran a hand down her back in silent reassurance, his fingers trailing slow, absentminded circles against her spine. A year ago, she would have bristled at such familiarity, would have shoved him away before the warmth could seep too deep.
But now?
Now she only pressed closer.
"You'll be the death of me," she muttered. "And I don't even think I can die."
Naruto snorted, a quiet huff of laughter against her hair. Then, with a weary kind of amusement, he raised his hand, tracing glowing letters in the air between them.
Not planning on it.
Salem huffed, but she didn't let go.
Letting go was...well, no longer an option.
The silence stretched between them, not uncomfortable, but weighted with something unspoken. Salem wasn't sure what to do with it. She had lived so long in shadows, in silent sadness, worn hatred and vengeance like armor, had believed herself beyond the reach of moments like this.
But now, she was here. And so was he.
Naruto shifted slightly, his body warm, solid, grounding. He exhaled again, slow and deep, before tilting his head just enough for his cheek to brush against her temple.
"You're getting soft," Kurama mused, his tone smug but lacking its usual bite. "Didn't see that one coming, did you?"
Salem didn't respond, but she knew the fox was right.
This should have felt like a weakness. Should have felt like a mistake.
It didn't.
Instead, it felt inevitable. Like a tide shifting, like the slow erosion of stone under the weight of the ocean.
Naruto, the fool, the impossible, the unbreakable, had chipped away at her walls, not with force, not with power, but with the simple, unwavering act of being himself.
And worse—she had let him.
Kurama, ever the observer, simply sighed, stretching out his massive paws as if settling in for the long haul. "Well," he muttered, "this is going to be interesting."
Salem, her face still buried against Naruto's shoulder, closed her eyes. Yes, it was.
But for better or worse...
.
..
...who could tell?
A/N: Congratulations, Naruto. Kurama just helped you win over a queen. Only question is...
.
..
...what comes next?
Well? What say you? Should this remain a story?
Yay or nay! Really need to hear from you here, or back in the bin this goes...
Remember, this is Salem shortly after the gods wiped out all human life on Remnant. She isn't Grimmified yet. Who knows? She may never be... Time and feedback will tell if Naruto regains his voice. Having a silent counterpart to Salem might seem appealing to some, but I'm sure others want to hear him chattering away again.
To that end, what do you think?
As ever, the Embers rule persists. If folks don't like this? Well, I'll not be able to continu. So by all means, speak up! Raise your voice! Make yourself heard! Your reviews matter! Really, they do! That's no joke. I don't have days off anymore -two jobs will do that to you- and I'm working myself to the bone.
So by all means, speak up! Raise your voice! Make yourself heard! Your reviews matter!
That's no joke! I can't write without feedback. Guess that makes me weak...T_T
So in the Immortal Words of Atlas... ...Review Would You Kindly?
And enjoy the previews! Potential ones at that. Mind you, they're all rough and condensed to save space!
As ever, I own nothiiiiing~!
(Previews)
I love not the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend."
Life is beautiful it is precious and it must be protected. She understood now. She had a responsibility to try. Maybe she didn't understand the importance of life and death. Maybe she was selfish. Maybe she could never truly understand, but she owed it to herself to try.
No, that wasn't the right word for it
"Huntress." She ran the word over her tongue. "I like it."
Hound was a Hound. It was what he was, who he was, all he would ever be.
Protect the Master and Mistress.
Nothing else mattered.
"A true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves that which is behind him.
We are immortal. If you fight us, you will die, like thousands before you. This is not a threat. Nor a boast. But a statement of blunt, simple fact.
"Courage is not the lack of fear. It is acting in spite of it! You speak to me of death?! Death can have me when she earns me! COME ON THEN! I'll take you BOTH on!
He coughed once, a whisper passing his bloody lips. "I'm not done...
A child's tiny hand pressed against his back.
"No. You are not."
Ozma opened his eyes.
Its important not to lose sight of what drives us. Love. Justice. Reverence. But the moment you put your desires before my own, they will be lost to you. This isn't a threat. This is simply the truth. The path to your desires is only found through us.
...just as ours are through you.
It was bound to happen to someone. This was the the only way.
A lone figure plunged into the Pool of Darkness.
And so it began anew.
EDIT: Ah, but who was it?
Thanks for reading! Hope you all have a great day~!
Should this be a story? Yay or nay! Really need to hear from you here, or back in the bin this goes...
R ~!