The Whispers From Void
Every shinobi has a moment when their name becomes etched into the annals of history. Not just whispered in the training halls or passed along in mission reports but carved into the fears and nightmares of those who dared to face them. Some debuts are heroic, filled with valor and glory, like Gaara of the Sand commanding the very earth beneath his feet in the Fourth Great Ninja War. Others are earned through quiet, relentless victories, like Kakashi Hatake, whose blade and Sharingan carved out a legend one mission at a time.
But not all stories are ones we tell with pride or reverence. Some debuts are not meant to be remembered at all, yet they are.
This story is not of triumph or even tragedy—it is of horror.
October 11th, 50 BWE.
It was a date that should have been like any other. Yet, it became a day no village, no nation, could ever forget. It wasn't a battle; battles have rules, strategies, an end. This was annihilation.
They said he didn't speak. Didn't even flinch as the shinobi surrounded him. The commander barked orders, demanding his surrender. Instead, the boy raised his hand, and the world itself seemed to shudder.
The first attack wasn't loud or showy. It was quiet—eerily quiet. A ripple in the air, a faint hum. Then bodies started dropping. At first, it was just the front line. Then the second. By the time the commander realized what was happening, it was too late.
Reports of what happened next are scattered and fragmented. Only the commander had survived. He spoke of hearing laughter. Not the kind of laughter that belonged to a child, but something twisted, unnatural.
Thirteen years have passed since that day, and the world still hasn't recovered. Villages speak his name in hushed tones, if at all. His legend has become a cautionary tale, a reminder that even the greatest shinobi are not deities.
And the boy? He disappeared. No one knew where he went or why he stopped.
But the fear lingers. What if he comes back? What if the child who carved destruction into the bones of the earth decides it isn't enough?
We don't know what he became that day. Some say he's a demon, others an angel, but neither feels adequate. Whatever he is, whatever it is, it is something the world should never face again.
Pray you never hear the name Naruto Uzumaki whispered in the dark. Pray the Crystal Sage— Naruto Uzumaki never returns.
[Adapted from the lecture by the Great Scholar Kishirama Masachika.
Iwa, Land of Earth.]
Ō~Ō
Konoha's most extraordinary child prodigy, Naruto Uzumaki, was returning from a mission in the Land of Lightning. His small yet powerful figure led a team of four experienced Jounin, their movements as fluid and silent as shadows under the dense forest canopy. To the untrained eye, they would appear as nothing more than fleeting blurs of green, blue, and red, darting effortlessly from one tree branch to another.
"Taichō," a voice called from behind. It was Taro Inuzuka, one of the Jounin on the team, his tone carrying a mix of respect and hesitation. He landed on a branch beside Naruto, matching his captain's pace.
"Yes?" Naruto replied without breaking stride, his piercing purple eyes flicking toward his comrade.
Taro hesitated, his gaze briefly meeting Naruto's sharp, scrutinising one. "I was just wondering," he began, his words trailing off slightly. "Why don't you just teleport us straight back to Konoha? It'd save us a lot of time."
Naruto came to a halt on a wide branch, his movements precise and calculated. He turned fully to face the Inuzuka, his expression calm but edged with a hint of irritation. The rest of the team stopped as well, landing silently nearby, their curious gazes fixed on the exchange.
"I see your point," Naruto said, his voice steady but laced with authority. "But my teleportation technique isn't like my father's Flying Thunder God Technique. The Crimson Lightning requires far more chakra and sends out a massive wave of energy. Using it in enemy territory risks giving away our location—or worse, provoking an attack. Besides," he added, his eyes narrowing slightly, "traveling this way allows us to observe the terrain and the diversity of the elemental nations. That's something you can't do with teleportation. And most importantly, this journey provides experience. Am I clear?"
"Yes, sir!" The four Jounin answered in unison, their voices filled with respect and understanding.
Naruto nodded curtly. "Good. Let's move."
Without another word, he sprang forward, leading the way once more. The team followed close behind, their disciplined movements seamlessly synchronised with his.
Despite his age—no older than eight—Naruto carried himself with the confidence and poise of a seasoned warrior. His long, fiery red hair flowed behind him like a banner, a striking contrast to his youthful face. His blue hitai-ate gleamed proudly on his forehead, a symbol of his allegiance to Konoha.
This boy had made history. A Genin at two-and-a-half, a Chunin six months later, and a Jounin by five. Yet, for all his accomplishments, his path had been a lonely one. Few could truly understand the burden of his genius.
Still, he had friends—older ones, mostly. Asuma, Kurenai, Genma, Kakashi, Yuagō. And, occasionally, Shisui Uchiha, another prodigy. Naruto respected Shisui's talent, though he often reminded himself to keep a certain emotional distance. 'She's a kid, you're an old man,' he would think, trying to shake off fleeting feelings of attraction toward a particular Uchiha girl.
Naruto had always admired Maito Dai, the Eternal Genin of Konoha. Dai's unwavering determination had left a lasting impression on him. Naruto had once seen Dai endure ridicule without flinching, only to witness the man training relentlessly in private, pushing his limits far beyond what anyone thought possible.
One memory stood out vividly in Naruto's mind. He had stumbled upon Dai comforting his son, Gai, after the boy had been bullied for his lack of chakra abilities. Gai had tearfully apologised for his "meaningless training," only for Dai to respond with words that etched themselves into Naruto's soul: "Never apologise for working hard. It's an insult to your determination."
Naruto had stepped out from the shadows that day, extending his hand to the older man. "Wise words," he had said simply, earning a genuine smile from Dai.
It was because of that determination that Maito Dai had become a hero. During the Third Great Shinobi War, Dai had opened the Celestial Gates, sacrificing himself to protect his son and teammates from the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist.
Naruto often thought of Dai's sacrifice as he pushed himself to the limits of his own abilities. He had been sent on countless missions, even as a child, each one sharpening him into a weapon for Konoha.
The most recent mission, ordered by his father, the Fourth Hokage, had been a delicate one. Naruto and his team had been tasked with destroying a volcano in the Land of Lightning, a strategic target that could have given Kumo a significant advantage.
It had taken them a week to reach the site. Naruto had completed the task in under a minute. One word, one hand sign, and the volcano had been encased in unbreakable diamonds. With a single punch, he had shattered it into oblivion.
"Crystal Release: Scatter," he had commanded, his voice echoing through the barren landscape.
Now, as they made their way back to Konoha, the mission seemed a distant memory. Naruto's mind was elsewhere, his thoughts consumed by a gnawing unease. His mother was pregnant, due to give birth in just fifteen days. He had argued against taking this mission, but his father had insisted, bowing to pressure from the Council.
Naruto suddenly stopped mid-flight, landing on a thick branch. His team followed suit, their concerned gazes fixed on him.
"Captain?" one of them ventured cautiously.
Naruto's small frame trembled, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. His eyes, usually sharp and composed, now brimmed with unshed tears.
"Mom… Dad…" he whispered, his voice cracking.
His hand moved to his wristband—a simple yet priceless token made from strands of his parents' hair. The Will of Fire emblem gleamed faintly in the fading light.
"Gentlemen," Naruto said, his voice firm despite the tremor in his hands. He turned to face his team, his purple eyes burning with an intensity that rivaled his red hair. "Hold my hands. We're going to Konoha now."
Though confused, the Jounin obeyed without question, each of them gripping his small, calloused hands.
Naruto took a deep breath, steeling himself. He uttered two words that would soon be etched into history.
"Crimson Lightning."
Then, immediately, in the Land Of Lightning, the most unique lightning ever struck. Within a fraction of a picosecond and with a sky shattering roar, the group of five disappeared.
Later, Shinobis and civilians who witnessed the phenomenon from far away would call it by the name of "Roar Of Death."
Ō~Ō
Minato Namikaze, the Yellow Flash, the Fourth Hokage, was a man known for his unshakable resolve. But tonight, standing amidst the chaos of his unraveling world, he felt utterly powerless.
His second child, Menma, had just been born, but the occasion was far from joyous. Kushina's seal, weakened by the toll of childbirth, had shattered like glass under the assault of a masked man cloaked in malice and mystery. The monster had taken their child hostage, extracted the Kyubi from Kushina, and unleashed it upon the village. The devastation was unimaginable.
After rescuing Menma and securing him in a hastily prepared safe house, Minato had returned for Kushina. He found her barely conscious, blood staining her body, yet her will remained fierce. Together, they had confronted the masked man, a foe who wielded a space-time jutsu that made him untouchable.
Every strike Minato landed passed through the man like an illusion. But it wasn't genjutsu—it was something far worse. Then Minato saw it. A flaw. A split-second opening.
He acted without hesitation, vanishing in a flash of light, and driving a Rasengan into the masked man's back.
The scream was guttural, filled with rage and pain.
"This isn't over, Yondaime!" the man snarled, his voice venomous as he dissolved into a spiraling vortex of nothingness. "I shall return."
Minato's keen eyes caught the faintest glimpse of crimson through the mask—a Sharingan.
'An Uchiha,' Minato thought, his heart sinking. But he couldn't afford to dwell on the implications. The Kyubi, now free, had turned its wrath upon Konoha.
It roared, a sound that tore through the heavens and earth alike. Its chakra condensed into a massive sphere that burned with destructive energy. The fox hurled the attack at the village.
Minato teleported the attack away just in time, saving countless lives, but the act drained the last of his strength. He stood atop the Hokage Monument, sweat pouring down his face, as the beast wreaked havoc below.
The flames of destruction illuminated the night, casting eerie shadows on the carnage. Minato could hear the cries of civilians, the futile orders of shinobi trying to hold the line. He had to act.
He summoned the Shinigami. Its cold, ethereal presence chilled him to the bone as he prepared the Death Reaper Seal.
"Kushina," he said softly, his voice breaking as he approached her. She had collapsed, her body trembling as her Adamantine Sealing Chains barely held the fox in check.
She looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. "No, Minato. Don't do this. Don't put this burden on our child."
"I have no choice," he replied, his voice steady but hollow. "I can't seal the entire fox inside me—it would upset the balance of power. And you…" He couldn't finish the thought.
Kushina's eyes softened. She understood. She always had.
Half of the Kyubi's chakra was sealed into Minato. The other half, destined for Menma, remained.
Kushina's chains faltered, her strength failing her. She collapsed again, gasping for air.
"Kushina," Minato knelt beside her, brushing her blood-matted hair from her face. "You'll live on in him. I'll seal part of you into Menma. He'll need you."
But before she could respond, the fox lunged. Its massive claw descended toward Menma.
Kushina's body moved on instinct, fueled by a mother's love. She threw herself in front of her son.
The claw pierced her chest. Blood sprayed from the wound, pooling beneath her.
"Kushina!" Minato's cry was filled with anguish, but his voice broke when he realized he, too, had moved to shield their child. The claw had torn through his body as well.
Their blood dripped onto Menma, staining his tiny body.
Minato's breath was shallow. "I guess this is it," he said softly. "Kushina, say your goodbyes. I'll seal the rest of your chakra into Menma."
Kushina cradled her son with trembling hands, her life slipping away with each passing second. Her voice was soft but filled with a love that defied death itself.
"Menma… Don't be picky. Eat lots and grow strong… Bathe every day and stay warm… Listen to your brother. He's strict like your dad, and hot-headed like me, but listen to him… You must have each other by your side… Make friends you can trust…
Be true to yourself… Have a dream and have the confidence to make it come true. There's so much more I want to tell you… I wish I could stay with you longer… I love you."
Her words were interrupted by the earth shaking beneath them. The sky turned crimson, and the air grew thick with malice.
Lightning, red as blood, tore through the heavens.
Five figures emerged from the storm.
Naruto was at the forefront, his sapphire eyes glowing with an unnatural light that chilled even the Kyubi.
"Dad! Mom!" His voice was trembling, breaking as he sprinted toward them.
But then his gaze fell upon the Kyuubi, and something inside him shattered.
The chakra that erupted from Naruto was unlike anything anyone had ever seen.
It wasn't red like the Kyubi's, nor blue like his father's. It was grey, lifeless, and suffocating. The grass around him withered instantly.
The Kyuubi faltered. For the first time in its existence, it felt fear.
"Believe this," Naruto growled, his voice guttural and inhuman. "I will eradicate you."
The boy's body blurred, and before the fox could react, a devastating blow struck its jaw.
The force of the attack sent the beast hurtling into the mountains, its roars echoing across the land.
Even at a distance, the Kyuubi felt the overwhelming pressure of Naruto's killing intent. It was suffocating, growing heavier with every passing second.
Through hazy vision, the Kyuubi saw him. Not Naruto. But the transparent image of a man behind him—a man who radiated an aura of divine fury.
The Sage of Six Paths.
And in that moment, the Kyubi understood despair.
Õ~Õ
The air hung heavy with despair, the kind that seeped into your soul and refused to let go. Blood soaked the ground, mingling with the ashes of what once was. The distant cries of the wounded and the crackling of flames were the only sounds to pierce the oppressive silence. The village was a battlefield, but amidst the chaos, a chilling stillness settled over the hill where the Namikaze family lay.
"Incredible…" muttered Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Third Hokage, as he observed from a distance. His sharp eyes, dulled by age but still perceptive, were fixed on the eerie scene before him. Enma, the Monkey King, stood beside him, his expression grim.
"To think a child can accomplish such a feat," Hiruzen said again, almost to himself.
"Yeah…" Enma's voice was low, almost a whisper. "But if you don't do something soon, you're gonna have bigger problems."
Hiruzen frowned, his gaze shifting uneasily. "What do you—?"
His words died in his throat as his eyes landed on the silhouette near the battered, dying couple. It wasn't human, at least not entirely. The figure stood about four feet tall, its body pitch black, as though it had been carved from pure shadow. Two hollow cavities in its head resembled empty, staring eyes, and its wild, floating crimson hair gave it an almost spectral appearance.
The thing didn't walk; it floated, hovering a good five meters off the ground. Its presence was suffocating, a malevolent energy radiating from it like heat waves on a scorching day.
The creature moved as if to head toward the direction where the Kyubi had been sent hurtling, but it paused. A chakra chain, golden and ethereal, snaked out from Kushina's back. The chain, delicate yet unyielding, gently caressed the figure's cheek.
For a moment, the entity froze. Its killing intent evaporated like mist under the morning sun, and the suffocating pressure vanished.
The figure began to change. Its pitch-black form gave way to pale skin, its empty eyes filled with vivid blue, and the fiery red hair softened into something recognizably human.
"Naruto," Kushina whispered, her voice trembling.
The boy—no, the creature that had become the boy—rushed forward, collapsing beside his parents. He flung his arms around them, his small frame shaking with sobs.
"Dad!" he cried, his voice breaking as tears streamed down his face. "Mom!" He clung to them like a lifeline, as though his embrace alone could keep them tethered to the world of the living.
"Oh dear," Kushina said softly, her lips curving into a weak smile despite the agony etched across her face. "I'm so glad… so glad I could see my boys together… before…" Her voice faltered, but her smile remained.
"Don't say that!" Naruto choked out, his voice filled with desperation. "I'll save you! Both of you!" He stood abruptly, his hands coming together in a determined clap. "Sage Art—!"
"NO!" Minato's voice rang out, hoarse but commanding. He coughed, blood staining his lips, but his gaze was sharp. "Naruto, stop! It's pointless. Look around you! I've already summoned the Shinigami. My fate is sealed."
"But—!" Naruto's protest died in his throat as Minato continued.
"Your mother's wounds…" Minato's voice softened, his gaze flickering to Kushina. "They're beyond repair. There's nothing you can do. You have to let us go."
Naruto fell to his knees, his hands trembling. Tears streamed freely down his face, dripping onto the bloodied ground. "No… no… this can't be happening…"
"Listen to me, Naruto," Minato said, his voice weak but urgent. "A man with a Sharingan attacked us. He controlled the Kyubi… used a space-time jutsu I've never seen before. I suspect… he's Madara Uchiha."
Naruto's head snapped up, his eyes wide.
"He'll return," Minato continued, his voice growing fainter. "His goal… is the Nine-Tails' power. You must protect the village… protect your brother. Make Menma a great shinobi… like you."
Minato paused, a faint smile gracing his lips. "Naruto… I name you… my successor. The Fifth Hokage. I entrust the future to you."
The Shinigami moved then, its spectral form looming over Minato. With a slow, deliberate motion, it licked the dagger in its hand, sealing the Kyubi into the infant Menma.
Minato's body slumped. The light in his eyes faded. The smile lingered, a sad, serene expression frozen in time.
"Dad…" Naruto whispered, his voice cracking. He cupped his father's lifeless cheeks, searching for a spark, a flicker, anything. But there was nothing.
"Naruto…" Kushina's voice was faint, barely audible. He turned to her, fresh tears spilling as he threw his arms around her.
"Mom, don't go!" he pleaded. "Please don't leave me too!"
She smiled at him, her eyes soft despite the pain. "Don't… don't be sad. It's going to be okay. Believe me."
"Mom…"
"Be yourself, Naruto," she whispered. "Don't let others tell you who to be… but don't let hatred or jealousy consume you either. Look after Menma. Be a good big brother. Tell him we… loved him… so much…"
Her voice trailed off. Her eyes fluttered closed.
"Mom?"
Her body went still.
"Mom!"
Naruto's scream echoed across the wasteland, raw and broken. He cradled Menma in his arms, his shoulders trembling.
He could fix it. He could reset it all. He just had to form the dragon hand sign, and everything would be undone.
But then his father's words echoed in his mind: "I entrust the future to you."
The future.
Naruto clenched his fists, his teeth gritted as he stared down at the newborn in his arms. His tears dried as a cold resolve settled over him.
"I will protect Menma and the village," he whispered, his voice trembling but determined. "Even if it kills me."
Sarutobi, who had watched everything from a distance, finally stepped forward. He landed softly beside Naruto, bowing low.
"Naruto…" the old man began, his voice heavy with emotion.
"Hokage-sama," Naruto corrected, his gaze never leaving Menma.
Sarutobi stiffened, then nodded. "Yes..."
Naruto's voice was firm, commanding despite his youth. "We'll hold a grand funeral for our heroes." His hand brushed through his mother's blood-streaked hair with reverence.
"Indeed," Sarutobi said solemnly.
"And tell everyone," Naruto continued, his voice low and dangerous. "Yondaime killed the Kyuubi. Anyone who says otherwise… will be executed. No questions asked."
Sarutobi's throat tightened. "Understood."
The eight-year-old stood, the infant in his arms, his sapphire eyes burning with a cold, unrelenting fire. The village wasn't ready for the storm that was coming. But Naruto was.
Õ~Õ
The room was charged with tension. Shadows from the flickering candlelight danced across the walls of the council chamber, their erratic movements almost mocking the stillness of the gathered members. The weight of the situation pressed heavily on everyone, yet their gazes remained fixed on the boy sitting at the head of the table—the seat of the Hokage.
Naruto, only eight years old, sat with an eerie calmness, his small frame dwarfed by the grand chair that once belonged to his mother. His sapphire eyes, cold and calculating, seemed to pierce through the very soul of those in the room. He rested his chin on his folded hands, exuding an air of authority that was unnatural for someone his age.
It has been a day since the Kyuubi attack and thousands have perished. The destruction was immense and the loss was grave. The funeral was grand and heartbreaking.
The council's murmurs broke the silence.
"What?" a civilian council member bellowed, his voice filled with indignation. "How can an eight-year-old be a Kage? This is madness!"
The words hung in the air, and all eyes turned to Hiruzen Sarutobi, who stood tall, his gaze unwavering.
"Old enough to kill, old enough to lead," Hiruzen replied firmly, his voice echoing in the chamber. "This was Minato's final wish. Naruto is stronger than anyone in this village."
Akimichi Chōza, usually quiet and reserved, leaned forward. "Stronger than almost anyone?"
"No," Hiruzen said, his tone brooking no argument. "Stronger than anyone."
Homura Mitokado scoffed, folding his arms. "Be practical, Sarutobi. How can a child—no matter how talented—be stronger than seasoned shinobi?"
"I agree," Koharu Utatane interjected, nodding sagely. "The boy might be the ultimate prodigy, but this decision is rash. Minato was on the verge of death, clearly delusional—"
Koharu's words were cut short as the unmistakable glint of steel pressed against his throat. Gasps filled the room as Naruto appeared behind Koharu, his kunai steady in his hand.
"Listen—" Naruto's voice was soft but laced with venom, the kind of cold tone that sent shivers down your spine. "One more word against my dad, and I'll eradicate you. Am I clear?"
Koharu froze, his breath hitching. He nodded slowly, the blood draining from his face.
"Good."
In the blink of an eye, Naruto was back in his seat, his kunai spinning lazily in his hand before disappearing into his sleeve. The room was deathly silent, save for the audible exhale of those who hadn't realized they were holding their breath.
Hiruzen cleared his throat, breaking the tension. "Shikaku," he called, turning to the Nara clan head. "You're the Jōnin Commander. What's your evaluation of Naruto-san's performance?"
Shikaku leaned back in his chair, his lazy demeanor masking the sharpness of his mind. He pulled a small file from his pocket, flipping through it.
"Hmm," he drawled, his tone casual. "Perfect scores at the Academy. Promoted to Genin in half a year. Chūnin six months after that. Entered ANBU but was dismissed shortly after, then became a Jōnin not long after that."
"And his mission record?" Inoichi Yamanaka asked, leaning forward with interest.
Shikaku sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Troublesome… but impressive. 20 D-rank missions, 10 C-rank, 4 B-rank, 10 A-rank, and 38 S-rank missions. Not a single mission led by him has ever failed."
The council members exchanged stunned looks. A child, younger than many of their own children, had achieved what seasoned shinobi could only dream of.
Danzo Shimura, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke. His voice was calm but carried an edge of calculation. "Uzumaki-san, you do realize that the Fire Lord's word is absolute, don't you? He is already on his way to Konoha. I doubt he will approve of this… arrangement."
Naruto's cold gaze shifted to Danzo, his expression unreadable. "I—"
Before he could finish, an ANBU with a cheetah mask appeared, kneeling before him.
"Hokage-sama," the ANBU said, his voice steady despite the urgency in his tone.
"Report," Naruto commanded, his tone sharp and commanding.
"An army is marching toward Konoha. It appears to be Hidden Stone's shinobi."
A ripple of shock spread through the room.
"Quantity?" Naruto asked, his voice calm despite the bombshell.
"Approximately ten thousand."
A collective gasp echoed in the chamber. How did Onoki reach here so fast? What about the security in the borders? With such an army, it would take at least ten days to reach here full speed.
"How far?"
"Seventeen kilometers from the northern gate."
Naruto nodded absently, his fingers drumming against the armrest of his chair. Onoki, the Fence Sitter, was exploiting their frail condition. The old man's timing was impeccable, striking when Konoha was at its weakest.
"Your orders, Hokage-sama?" the ANBU pressed, sensing the weight of the moment.
Naruto's eyes sharpened. "Intensify the village's security. No one is to intrude. Seal every gate. No one leaves the village without explicit orders."
The ANBU bowed. "Understood."
Naruto's gaze shifted to Danzo. "You said the Daimyō is coming?"
Danzo nodded, his eyes narrowing. "Indeed."
"Send an escort of four ANBU to ensure his safety," Naruto commanded.
"As you wish, Hokage-sama." The ANBU disappeared in a blur.
"Hey, brat!" Tsume Inuzuka barked from her seat, her voice cutting through the tense silence. "We might be invaded by tomorrow, and all you've done is talk about defense? Do you have a death wish?"
Naruto turned his gaze to the rest of the council. "Do you all share the same question?"
Everyone nodded hesitantly.
"Then worry not," Naruto said, standing. His small frame seemed to grow larger, his presence more commanding. "Everything will be handled."
"But all your measures are defensive," Inoichi pointed out, his tone cautious. "What about our offensive strategy? We're in no condition to deal with an invasion. We've lost 45% of our military force. Shinobi are wounded. The gates and walls are barely standing after the Kyūbi attack."
Naruto's gaze burned with determination as he spoke. "Believe this—no Leaf shinobi or civilian will die tomorrow."
And with that, he disappeared in a blur of motion, leaving the council chamber in stunned silence.
Õ~Õ
The war camp was alive with the sound of celebration. Torches blazed, casting long shadows across rows of tents and armoured shinobi. Hidden Stone's forces, ten thousand strong, drank and laughed, confident in their impending victory.
At the center of the camp, Onoki, the Fence Sitter and Tsuchikage of Iwagakure, hovered slightly above the ground, sipping from a cup of sake with a triumphant smirk plastered across his weathered face. The years had bent his back and deepened the lines on his face, but his cunning mind and burning hatred for Konoha had only grown sharper.
"Finally," he muttered to himself, swirling the liquid in his cup. "The cursed Yellow Flash is gone. Konoha's shining beacon, slain by none other than their own weapon, the Kyūbi. How poetic."
He chuckled, the sound deep and guttural, as if relishing the poetic justice of it all. His aide, a younger shinobi named Kitsuchi, stood nearby, nodding in agreement.
"It's true, Tsuchikage-sama," Kitsuchi said, his tone almost reverent. "Without Minato Namikaze, their defenses will crumble like dust beneath our feet. Tomorrow, Konoha will be nothing but ashes."
Onoki sighed, though the smirk never left his face. "I admit, I was looking forward to crushing that brat myself. But this… this is almost as satisfying. No Yellow Flash, no Red Death, no sealing chains to haunt us. The great shinobi of Konoha are scattered and broken. It's as if the heavens themselves have delivered this victory to us."
His smirk widened as he pictured the destruction. However, despite his celebratory tone, there was a flicker of unease deep in his chest.
Hiruzen Sarutobi. The Professor. The Kami Nō Shinobi.
The thought of the aged Hokage gave him pause. The man had mastered all five nature transformations, an unparalleled feat even among the strongest shinobi. Onoki frowned, sipping his sake slower this time.
"Of course, Sarutobi could pose a problem," he admitted aloud, almost begrudgingly. "But he's too old now. His prime has long since passed. He won't be able to hold us back, not with what's left of his forces."
Kitsuchi nodded again, more confidently this time. "And then there's Danzo Shimura, the Yami Nō Shinobi," he added, his lips curling slightly. "He's another relic of the past. His Root forces are formidable, but with Konoha in ruins, even his emotionless soldiers won't stand a chance against our numbers."
Onoki grunted in agreement. "Yes, Danzo may cause a little trouble, but he's a shadow of what Konoha once was. And what's left? Fugaku Uchiha— the so-called Wicked Eyes? Hiashi Hyūga, Shibi Aburame, the Ino-Shika-Chō trio? They're strong, but without Namikaze, they're just pieces of a broken puzzle."
He leaned back slightly, savoring the taste of impending triumph. Then a thought struck him—a fleeting whisper of doubt.
"That new Hokage…"
Kitsuchi's brow furrowed. "The boy? What about him? Surely, you don't think a child could pose a threat?"
Onoki waved his hand dismissively but hesitated, his fingers trembling slightly as they tightened around the cup. "It's just… Konoha is known for its prodigies. Even at their weakest, they've always had a way of producing the unexpected. And this boy… He had defeated the Four-Tails during the last war. Alone."
Kitsuchi stiffened, his confidence faltering. "That… that was just a fluke, wasn't it? A rumour? He's a child, Tsuchikage-sama. A prodigy, perhaps, but still just a boy. Surely he can't…"
Onoki didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stared into his cup, the sake now forgotten. He thought of Minato Namikaze—the Yellow Flash, whose speed was unmatched, and Kushina Uzumaki—the Red Death, whose chains had turned entire battlefields into graveyards.
The boy had both of their blood running through his veins.
A chill ran down Onoki's spine, cold and sharp, slicing through the warmth of his earlier bravado. He pushed the thought aside, shaking his head as if to banish the creeping fear.
"No," he said firmly, though his voice lacked the certainty it held before. "He's just a child. Whatever talent he has, it won't be enough to stop us. Konoha is weak. They're vulnerable. We will crush them tomorrow. It's inevitable."
Kitsuchi nodded, though the unease lingered between them like a phantom.
But deep down, in the quiet corners of his mind, Onoki couldn't shake the cold feeling that something was very wrong. Victory should have felt certain. But it didn't.
And for the first time that night, the celebration around him felt hollow.
Õ~Õ
Onoki stood still.
His frail frame betrayed none of the storm inside his mind. The battlefield lay ahead like a stage awaiting a final act. His forces, 10,000 strong, stretched behind him, eager and bloodthirsty. Each soldier held their head high, their weapons gleaming in the dying sunlight. Iwa had never been this united, this powerful, this sure. Victory wasn't just expected—it was guaranteed.
Yet, deep down, a faint unease lingered in the Tsuchikage's chest, like a whisper he refused to acknowledge.
The remnants of Konoha loomed in the distance, its proud walls scorched and cracked from the Kyūbi's rampage just days prior. Fires had raged, leaving jagged scars on the landscape, and the air still carried the acrid tang of burnt wood and despair.
Despite the devastation, a small contingent of Konoha shinobi now stood before the gate, their silhouettes stark against the crimson horizon.
Onoki scoffed. Fools. They didn't even try to hide their pathetic attempt at resistance. What hope could these remnants have against his mighty army?
"Look at them," he muttered, the disdain dripping from his words. "Standing there like they matter. A few scraggly battalions of desperate men and women. It's almost insulting."
Kitsuchi, his ever-loyal aide, stood at his side. The younger shinobi smirked. "They're probably hoping to scare us with their bravado. As if courage can stop an avalanche."
Onoki let out a dry chuckle. "Courage? No, this isn't courage. This is stupidity. And stupidity deserves punishment."
His army roared their approval at his words. The earth itself seemed to quake beneath the weight of their collective confidence.
But then, something shifted.
A figure emerged from the shadows of Konoha's gate, stepping into the fading light. The movement was subtle at first, a ripple in the distance, but it caught Onoki's sharp eyes.
"Who…?" he murmured, squinting to get a better look. The figure was small, barely more than a speck against the massive gates. As they stepped closer, the fading sunlight glinted off a shock of crimson hair.
Onoki froze.
"Red hair…" he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Kushina Uzumaki?"
Kitsuchi's head snapped toward his leader. "Impossible. She's dead. The Kyūbi killed her, didn't it?"
"Yes. Yes, it did," Onoki said, though his voice lacked conviction. As the figure came closer, details became clearer. It wasn't Kushina. The figure was too small, too slight.
It was a child.
Realisation struck like a bolt of lightning. Onoki's expression twisted into a mixture of disgust and disbelief. "The boy. The new Hokage."
His voice was low, venomous. The child's infamous title was a mockery to seasoned warriors like Onoki. To appoint a child to the seat of Hokage? It was laughable.
The boy—no, the child—stepped forward, stopping a good three hundred meters from Iwa's front line. His small stature seemed almost comical against the vast battlefield.
But what he lacked in size, he made up for in presence.
The young Hokage tilted his head slightly, examining the army before him with cold, calculating eyes.
Perhaps he had realised that he was too short, and felt a bit embarrassed.
Then, without warning, he held a hand sign, slamming his hands against the ground.
The earth trembled.
Before Onoki's incredulous gaze, a crystalline pillar erupted from the ground beneath the boy, lifting him high above the battlefield.
A murmur rippled through the Iwa troops.
"Is that… some kind of bloodline technique?" Kitsuchi asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
Onoki's lips twisted into a sneer. "It's a cheap parlour trick. He's trying to compensate for his size. Nothing more."
He put a smirk on his face and said, "I see you came to surrender. Or are you here to negotiate? If that's the case let me tell you that we have no intentions of going back without playing a bit with you tree huggers and your filthy village."
The boy raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps your old age has affected your perception." Onoki's eyes twitched at that but the young Kage ignored. "Believe this, go away from this land or you will be eradicated."
"You thrice damned son of a bastard!" Onoki shouted. "What makes you think we'll surrender to some weakling and stinky diaper wearing child like you?"
A disturbing silence emerged on the battleground as nobody spoke and waited for a response. The Hokage kept his gaze low for a moment, his crimson hair covering his face. For a fraction of a second, an extremely dense killing intent leaked from the young Kage, which made the ones within close proximity suffocate a bit.
Onoki's face turned beet red. "You little—!"
The boy didn't let him finish. His voice dropped, becoming icy and firm. "This is your only warning. Leave now, or there will be no room for mercy."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Onoki snarled. "Mercy? You dare speak of mercy after what your damned father did to us?" He stepped forward, his fists trembling. "Mercy can go to hell!"
The boy's expression didn't waver. His gaze remained locked on Onoki, calm and unflinching.
"So be it," the boy said softly, his hands coming together. "What happens next is on your head."
For the first time that day, Onoki felt something he hadn't felt in years.
Fear.
The boy clapped his hands. The sound echoed across the battlefield.
A pregnant pause.
Five seconds passed, nothing happened.
Ten seconds later, nothing.
"What? Are we supposed to die from laughter now?" a bald chunin in his mid thirties chuckled loudly. Then a couple of hundred people mimicked the man's act. Even most of the Leaf shinobi force were confused. Was this truly the Godaime Hokage? 'We are so doomed…'
The boy remained unfazed by their mockery. He stood calmly on the crystal pillar with his hands together close to his chest. Some stopped their laughter seeing the lack of expression in the young Kage; something is wrong.
"Kai!"
A loud voice then cut their laughter. Everyone turned to the Tsuchikage. He was sweating heavily and holding his hands tightly in a genjutsu releasing style. He was looking at the sky with a horrified look. A moment later, everyone followed his gaze and then they saw IT.
The Divine Wish's physical manifestation.
Something was there in the sky, something big… It pushed the clouds aside, coming in everyone's view… a gigantic slab made of scarlet crystal shadowed the entire battlefield. The area turned blood red as the sunlight passed through it.
"Kai!" one shouted, holding his hands together.
"Kai!" another did the same.
"Kai!"
"Kai…!"
"What… what is that?" Kitsuchi whispered, his voice trembling despite himself.
"It's no genjutsu," Onoki muttered, his voice hoarse. He clenched his fists, glaring at the boy atop the crystalline pillar. "That thing is real."
It took a moment for all of them to understand. It wasn't an illusion.
The slab of crimson crystal hung in the sky like an executioner's blade, its presence oppressive and unyielding. Its sheer size defied comprehension, stretching wider than the battlefield itself. The red hue bathed everything below in an unnatural, blood-like glow, casting distorted shadows on the ground.
"It isn't an illusion…" Hiruzen muttered. Danzo standing beside him could only nod as his jaw fell on the ground. A few of the council members fainted promptly.
Civilians inside the walls were looking at the demonic thing with awe, not even two days and another monster already knocking at the door? The shinobis from both Iwa and Konoha looked at the boy and the thing with disbelief.
For a moment, the battlefield was utterly silent. No one moved, no one spoke. Even the wind seemed to still, as though the heavens themselves were holding their breath.
The silence shattered when Onoki roared, his old voice crackling with fury. "We won't let this child intimidate us! IWA, ATTACK!"
The battlefield erupted into chaos. Iwa's shinobi hurled every technique in their arsenal. Fireballs roared through the sky, crackling lightning forked through the red haze, and spears of earth erupted toward the massive crystal above.
Each attack collided with the slab. But instead of leaving a mark, the techniques were absorbed into its surface, disappearing like pebbles dropped into a bottomless ocean. The slab remained untouched, unyielding.
Onoki gritted his teeth. "This ends now."
He shot into the sky, his small frame a blur as he charged the crimson monolith. Bringing his hands together, he summoned his ultimate technique.
"Dust Release: Detachment of the Primitive World!"
A blinding white cube materialised in his hands, crackling with the raw energy of disintegration. He hurled it at the slab with all his might. The cube struck the crystal with a deafening explosion, light and heat erupting outward in a massive shockwave.
When the light faded, Onoki's heart sank. The crystal was still there, unscathed.
"It absorbed it," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "It absorbed my Dust Release…"
Panic rippled through the Iwa ranks. Their strongest jutsu had failed, and the slab was now descending, slow but deliberate, casting an ever-deepening shadow over the battlefield.
"What the hell are we supposed to do?!" one shinobi shouted, his voice cracking.
"Run!" another screamed, already bolting toward the rear.
Every Iwa shinobi started throwing everything they had at their arsenal. Lightning style, earth style, water style, fire style, wind style…
"My technique is flawless." Naruto's voice rang out again, calm but commanding. "Crystal Style: Crimson Rain of Death."
The slab above began to splinter, fine cracks racing across its surface. For a moment, it seemed as though it might shatter harmlessly into dust. 200 metres above from the ground, the gigantic slab began shattering, soon it became invisible. Everyone was confused. 'Did he do that to scare us?'
Then the screaming started.
Long, needle-like shards of crystal rained down from the fractured slab, each one glinting ominously in the red light. They moved with unnatural precision, as though guided by some malevolent will.
One shinobi fell, a crystal spear piercing his chest. His body froze, his skin turning a translucent pink before shattering into dust. Another fell, then another.
"Run!" someone screamed again, their voice raw with terror.
It was useless. The crystalline needles pursued their targets relentlessly, curving through the air like hunting hawks. Those who tried to block them with jutsu found their techniques absorbed. Those who tried to deflect them with weapons found their blades shattered.
The people in Konoha were looking at the carnage with wide eyes. Such brutality and carnage… is he really a human? Or a demon wearing a child's skin.
"This…" A civilian spoke, looking at the bloodbath from a hill. "This kid… no, a demon…"
Onoki hovered in the air, frozen as he watched his army crumble. His hands shook, not with age but with pure, unadulterated terror.
"This isn't… this can't be real," he whispered, his voice trembling.
Below, Naruto stood atop his crystalline pillar, his expression cold and unflinching. He raised a hand, and the rain of death ceased. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the faint sound of crystal dust settling on the ground.
The once-proud army of Iwa was gone, reduced to a field of shimmering red powder. Only Onoki remained, hovering in the empty sky.
The boy's crimson gaze locked onto him.
"Tsuchikage," Naruto said, his voice echoing across the battlefield. "Run."
Onoki didn't hesitate. He turned and fled, his old body pushing itself to its limits as he ran, forgetting that he could fly. He ran and ran. He kept running and running until he couldn't feel his legs and his lungs felt like they were on fire.
Back in the field, Naruto clapped his hands together.
"Crystal Style: Crystallisation."
The red powder on the battlefield began to shift, melting into a thick, viscous liquid. It spread outward, pooling into a massive blood-red mirror-like surface that reflected the sky above.
The boy turned to his remaining forces, his voice amplified with chakra.
Onoki, now far away, looked back at the battlefield, a battleground where they were supposed to triumph… not lose like this. He fell on his knees. And for the third time in his life, he was humiliated, utterly defeated.
Madara had humiliated him. Minato had humiliated him. And now… this child… no… this demon crushed his pride and humiliated for the third time. With a broken pride and an old broken body, he ran again.
The moment Naruto entered the village cheers and slogans rumbled from the crowds.
"Hokage-sama!"
"Our hero!"
"We believed in you!"
"Our Crystal Sage!"
"Crystal Sage of Konoha!"
'So it is what feels to be a hero… emptiness? Why am I so sad?
Is it because I killed thousands of people? Is it because it reminded me of all those millions of people I've killed? Is it because I lost my parents not long ago? Is it because I never had a childhood? Is it because of what I have become? A monster?
Little by little I began to lose my humanity… all those years ago... This emptiness… is it because my little brother became an orphan and a jinchuriki on his very birthday…?
They are smiling, cheering… for me. Yet, what I did is… disgusting. But, it was right, wasn't it?
I am Uzumaki Naruto, son of Namikaze Minato and Uzumaki Kushina. I am the Fifth Hokage of the Village Hidden in the Leaves. It is my duty to protect those precious to me. Currently, my brother and my villagers' smiles are my top priority. I will surpass the wildest imagination of the human mind in order to protect them.
Even if I fully give up my humanity.
Even if they hate me for it.'
"Today," the Hokage turned to his people, pushing chakra in his voice. "This day will be a reminder to those who try to harm the Leaf Village. Let this Crystal Cemetery be a warning and a reminder."
The Leaf shinobi erupted into cheers, their voices rising in a triumphant roar. Even Danzo, the ever-skeptical Yami no Shinobi, gave a small nod of approval.
However, no civilian moved, most were frozen in fear or throwing up.
Õ~Õ
The Daimyo of the Land of Fire was having what could only be described as a catastrophically bad week. First, the Fourth Hokage, the strongest shinobi in living memory, up and died, dragging his terrifyingly powerful wife along with him. A national tragedy. Then, as if that wasn't enough, the village decided—on what could only be described as a collective whim—to crown their next leader. Who, you ask? Why, an eight-year-old boy. Yep. Not a war hero. Not a seasoned strategist. A kid who probably needed help tying his sandals.
And now? Now the Daimyo had to leave the comfort of his palace, where the most dangerous thing he faced was tea served too hot, and travel to Konoha to deal with this mess. Not exactly the relaxing retirement he'd envisioned. He had even written a long, flowery speech to deliver at the council. It was all very proper: condolences for the fallen, praise for their sacrifice, and a subtle reminder of who held the real power in this land. The "Authority nō technique," as he liked to call it. Oh, he was going to show those shinobi who was boss.
But fate, as it often does, had other plans.
Barely twenty kilometres from the village, his entourage was intercepted by a group of Leaf Anbu. These masked, emotionless ninja brought not words of welcome, but a warning. War was brewing. Great. Just what he needed. They offered to escort him to Konoha, which sounded suspiciously like "we're taking you into the war zone whether you like it or not."
He didn't like it. At all.
Now, the Daimyo wasn't a ninja. Not even close. He didn't do combat, and he certainly didn't do war zones. His idea of danger involved bad weather during a hunting trip. Yet here he was, trudging along with his samurai bodyguards—loyal, yes, but about as sharp as a blunt kunai—and a group of Anbu who couldn't care less about his growing panic. He tried dropping hints, subtle suggestions about turning around and heading back to the capital. His bodyguards didn't catch on, and the Anbu? Oh, they ignored him outright.
It was like the universe itself was conspiring to ruin his day.
When they finally reached a hill overlooking the village, the Daimyo thought, for the briefest of moments, that his troubles were over. He was wrong. So very, very wrong.
Below them stretched an army. Not just any army, but a veritable sea of shinobi. Thousands of them, each one a Chunin or higher. It was a sight that would have sent even the bravest samurai running for the hills. For the Daimyo, it was confirmation that he'd made several terrible life choices.
And then he saw the boy.
At the forefront of the army stood a small figure, barely taller than the katana strapped to one of his guards. The boy had bright red hair, parted perfectly down the middle, and it fell neatly to his shoulders. His clothes were immaculate, his posture unnervingly calm. He couldn't have been older than nine, but there he was, standing alone before an army like it was just another Tuesday.
"That's Lord Naruto," one of the Anbu behind him said, his voice dripping with pride.
The Daimyo blinked. "The Hokage, huh?" he muttered, his voice thick with disbelief. "Well, this ought to be good."
He wasn't sure what he was expecting. Maybe a rousing speech? Some words of encouragement for the troops? But what he got was… different.
The boy clapped his hands. That was it. Just a clap.
And the world changed.
The sky darkened in an instant, as if someone had snuffed out the sun. The clouds vanished, replaced by an eerie, reddish-purple hue that made the Daimyo's skin crawl. The air grew heavy, charged with a chakra so oppressive it felt like the ground itself might collapse under its weight.
And then, it came.
From the heavens descended a massive slab of crystal, so enormous it seemed to blot out the sky. It moved with an almost lazy inevitability, as if it knew there was no need to hurry. The Daimyo, frozen in place, could only watch as the slab just vanished— something that defied description.
For a moment, there was silence. And then the screams began—noise so deep and resonant it seemed to vibrate in his very bones.
Sharp, piercing wails of terror and pain erupted from the army below. The Daimyo couldn't see the source at first, but then he noticed it: the crystal. It was splintering, sending razor-sharp shards flying in every direction. The shards struck the shinobi, and they didn't just die. No, that would have been too merciful. They dissolved.
There was no blood. No bodies. No remnants of clothing or weapons. Just powder. Fine, pale dust that floated briefly in the air before settling into the growing pile on the ground.
The Daimyo felt his stomach churn. He had seen death before, but this? This wasn't death. This was erasure.
The dust began to shift, pooling together like water. It formed a massive, crimson puddle that stretched across the battlefield. Slowly, it began to solidify, its surface gleaming like polished glass. It was grotesque and beautiful in equal measure, a monument to the sheer, unimaginable power of the boy who had created it.
The Daimyo turned his gaze back to Naruto, who stood as calm and composed as ever. The boy hadn't moved an inch.
"Well," the Daimyo thought, his mouth dry. "I guess I'm not firing him."
Removing the boy from power was no longer an option. Hell, surviving this encounter felt like a long shot. Naruto Uzumaki wasn't just a Hokage. He was a force of nature. And the Daimyo? He was just an unlucky man caught in the storm.
Õ~Õ
12th October.
This day, victory was theirs, but it didn't feel like one. It
In the history of the elemental nations, 12th October would be marked as the "Crystal Sage" day. Years later, children would ask the older generation about this and the response would always be the same.
"Nothing special. Just a small battle that saved us from an invasion."
If they asked how?
"The Godaime… he uh…oh, your mom's calling! Got to go, bye!"
Õ~Õ
Bingo Book Entry: 345
Name: Uzumaki Naruto
Father: Minato Namikaze (Deceased.)
Mother: Kushina Uzumaki (Deceased.)
Shinobi rank: Kage
Sex: Male.
Age: 8 years old
Height: 113 cm
Hair: Past shoulder-length
Eyes: Purple/Blue
Skin tone: Bright
Clan: Uzumaki
Village: Konohagakure
Father: Namikaze Minato
Mother: Uzumaki Kushina
Also Known as: the Crystal Sage of Leaf,
Chakra nature: Earth, Water and Wind (Predicted)
Kekei Genkei/Tota: Crystal Release
Preferred Weapon: None.
May have Adamantine Sealing Chains
Techniques:
Crimson Lightning; Rank: SS
Crystal Release: Divine Wish; Rank: SS
Crystal Style: Crimson Rain of Death; Rank: SS
Crystal Release: Purple Scythe; Rank: B
Noteworthy feats:
1/ Single handedly wiped out an entire army of Kumo, Iwa and Kiri in less than a minute on the Third Great Shinobi War
2/ Single handedly killed thirty Kumo ninja in the Third Great Shinobi war at the age of two and a half.
3/Subdued the Yonbi at the age of two and a half.
4/Became Kage at the age of eight.
Rank: SS
Advise: Flee on sight
Wanted: Dead or alive
Kumo Bounty: 7,00,000 ryo
Iwa Bounty: 10,000,0000 ryo
TBC
.