Author's Notes

Sorry for the late update, went out of town with the family for Christmas. Besides that thank you to everyone who left comments and supporting the art. Next chapter coming out soon making sure the fight scene is detailed. I just love taijutsu and creating different Ninjutsu for the characters, after next chapter expect a time skip. I hope you guys continue to enjoy the story.

Chapter Fifteen

The Temple of the Uzumaki Masks loomed in eerie silence, its dark corridors heavy with the stench of malevolence and ancient secrets. At the entrance, a massive insignia of the clan's whirlpool symbol was etched into the ground, glowing faintly with an otherworldly energy. The atmosphere was suffocating, as if the temple itself bore witness to countless sacrifices and secrets that should never have been unearthed.

Azashiro Uzumaki stood motionless at the threshold, his gaze fixed on the dark recesses of the temple. He knew what lay ahead, what he sought, and what it would cost him. The Shinigami Mask. It was the only way to ensure the survival of his clan. In a few days, he was to meet with his brother and the leadership of Konoha to discuss the Third Great Shinobi War, but he already knew the truth. The whispers of the battlefield and the alliances forming in secret painted a clear picture: the Uzumaki were a target. Their power, their knowledge, their very existence—seen as too dangerous to the balance of power.

His brother had always been too soft, too trusting, too hopeful. Azashiro clenched his fists. Not this time. This time, he would take fate into his own hands—for better or worse.

As he entered the chamber of the Death God, the air grew colder as Azashiro descended deeper into the temple, the flickering torchlight casting grotesque shadows on the walls. He finally reached the chamber of the Shinigami Masks. At the center was a podium where several oni masks hung beneath three interconnected whirlpool symbols of the Uzumaki clan. Each mask radiated its own ominous presence, but one stood out—a mask made of bone, shaped into the face of a grinning demon with horns. Its hollow eyes seemed to pierce into his soul.

Azashiro hesitated as he reached for it. His hand trembled as he brushed against its surface, only to recoil in pain. His skin sizzled, a small burn left where his fingers had touched the cursed object. Gritting his teeth, he hardened his resolve, grasped the mask fully, and placed it on his face. A sudden burst of steam erupted from his body as the mask began to bind to him, and he felt a searing pain coursing through his veins.

Suddenly, Azashiro's body swayed like liquid, his movements flowing unnaturally as the dance of summoning took over him. His hands then clasped together in a prayer motion, and the air around him thickened. The temperature dropped further, and the torches flickered violently before extinguishing altogether.

A translucent, gaunt specter materialized before him. Its stern visage was terrifyingly serene, with long, shaggy red hair, two red horns protruding from its head, and purple-hued skin. Draped in a tattered white kimono, it held a set of enormous prayer beads that clattered ominously in the silence. His eyes closed and yet nothing was missed by the spirit, it was as if his senses peared beyond reality.

The specter loomed over Azashiro, its presence suffocating.

"An Uzumaki?" the Shinigami's deep, guttural voice rumbled, shaking the chamber. "Since I am bounded by your bloodline I'll amuse you. State your business."

Azashiro knelt before the towering specter, his voice trembling but resolute. "Death God, our people are in danger. This war threatens the peace my clan has fought to uphold. Please… give me the power. Give me the power to change the tides of war!"

The Shinigami tilted its head, its facial expression narrowing contorted as a twisted grin spread across its face. "Oh? A Uzumaki, wielders of life and death, seek my aid? How ironic. What will you offer in return, mortal?"

Azashiro's gaze hardened. "Everything. My life, my soul. I will give you every soul that falls in this war—enemy or ally. Just give me the power to save my clan."

The Shinigami's chuckle was a low, guttural growl that echoed throughout the chamber. "An interesting proposition. But know this, the power you seek comes with a curse. You and your bloodline will be bound to me for eternity. You will never know peace in the afterlife. Are you prepared to pay that price?"

Without hesitation, Azashiro met the specter's gaze. "Do it."

The Shinigami let out a booming laugh, its skeletal face splitting into a manic grin. "So be it. I'll grant you the curse to see all that is, was, and will be but there are limitations. Something you'll soon enough find out."

The specter gorged out his eyes then reached out with a bloody covered hands and plunged it into Azashiro's face. He screamed as a sharp pain spread through his body, freezing his veins and numbing his senses. His vision blurred, and his pupils glowed crimson before fracturing into multiple irises, spinning and overlapping in a kaleidoscope of patterns. A flood of visions consumed his mind.

He saw Uzushio in flames, his people screaming as their enemies tore through the village. He saw betrayal at the hands of supposed allies. He saw his own family—his brother, his wife, his children—all consumed by darkness. He saw himself standing atop a mountain of corpses, wielding unimaginable power, but utterly alone.

The Shinigami's voice rang in his ears. "You sought power to protect your clan. Now bear witness to the threads of fate. You will see every possibility, every outcome, but forewarn the more you wield this power, the closer you draw to me."

The visions ended as abruptly as they began, and Azashiro collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. The mask disintegrated, its fragments scattering like ash. The chamber fell silent, the oppressive presence of the Shinigami gone, but the curse remained. His fractured irises glowed faintly in the darkness, a permanent mark of his pact. The true signs of the beginning of the end.

Azashiro emerged from the Temple of the Uzumaki Masks, his steps heavy and unsteady. The faint moonlight illuminated his battered form, the fractured red irises in his eyes glowing faintly. His breath came in ragged gasps as he stood at the temple's threshold, staring out at the dark forest that stretched endlessly before him.

The night was still, but the weight of the pact he had made hung over him like a suffocating shroud. The visions still danced in his mind—images of fire, betrayal, and despair. But for all the pain, his resolve burned brighter than ever.

Thunder began rumble in the distance, a low growl that seemed to echo the storm brewing in his heart. The clouds overhead churned and twisted, mirroring the turmoil within him. Azashiro clenched his fists and turned his glowing eyes to the horizon. His visions had shown him the path ahead, but the end was shrouded in shadows.

When he sensed chakra signatures behind him, his aura slightly shifted but his posture did not change. Two figures approached, their footsteps careful but steady. Azashiro didn't need to turn to know who they were. Roku and Naoki, his most trusted retainers, stood behind him, their faces marked with concern.

"Your Majesty," Roku said, his voice low and reverent. He knelt, his head bowed, followed swiftly by Naoki and the others who had accompanied them. The air around them was thick with the unspoken tension of what they had sensed from afar—the oppressive weight of Azashiro's chakra, now laced with the curse of the Shinigami.

Azashiro remained silent for a moment, his gaze still fixed on the darkened skies. Finally, he spoke, his tone steady but filled with quiet authority. "The Great Nations are preparing to march against us. Kumogakure and Iwagakure will lead the charge, their intentions clear. They seek to destroy us—to wipe our people from existence."

Roku lifted his head slightly, his eyes searching Azashiro's face. "And what is our course of action, Your Majesty?"

Azashiro turned to face them, his eyes that emitted pressure they never felt before. He scared his men by displaying an outer worldly image. Furthering their thought of Azashiro being the true savior of the Uzumaki.

"With these eyes, the tides of war will not go in their favor." His glowing eyes burning with an intensity that made even his most loyal retainers flinch. "We will meet them head-on. The Uzumaki do not cower. We will not beg for mercy from the wolves who circle us."

His words hung in the air like a blade poised to strike. The retainers exchanged glances, their loyalty unwavering but their fear evident. Naoki swallowed hard looking at those eyes that displayed power. Those eyes of his... Eyes that demanded nothing but respect and obedience. He wondered how Roku could be still be before him without flinching. He realized that Roku also sensed it because the moment they arrived, he immediately went to his knees something he normally didn't do so.

Azashiro continued, his voice growing sharper, "Roku. Naoki. You will oversee the defense of our village while I lead the vanguard. Your task is critical. Ensure that the secrets of Uzushio remain safe—our techniques, our scrolls, our very essence. Everything must be preserved, no matter the cost."

"Hai, Your Majesty," they replied in unison, their voices firm despite the weight of the responsibility.

Azashiro's gaze softened slightly as he looked at them, sensing their unease. "We fight not just for our lives but for the legacy of our clan. The Uzumaki are more than just a people. We are a symbol of resilience, of hope. We will rise again."

Naoki hesitated, his voice trembling slightly as he spoke. "Your Majesty… is there no other way? Could we not seek an alliance with—"

"There is no other way," Azashiro cut him off, his tone sharp and final. "The Great Nations have already decided our fate. Diplomacy is a lie they wield to weaken us. We must rely on ourselves and our strength. Nothing more."

He turned his gaze back to the horizon, his fractured irises spinning faintly as he glimpsed fleeting visions of the battle to come. His voice dropped to a near whisper, though it carried the weight of prophecy.

"The storm is coming, and it will consume everything in its path. But through the storm, we will endure."

Everyone eyes widened, remembering the eulogy of the man that created the clan. He's uttering the words the nameless God that created what the Uzumaki are today stated before his death. Naoki voice shook as he spoke out, "Y-Your M-Majesty, you don't mean..."

Azashiro nodded, his gaze continued upwards, the darkening clouds roiled with the storm's fury. His voice grew low and prophetic, as if addressing both the living and the dead; the past, present and future. His two eyes that dawned multiple irises, glowed ominously as he foreseen the possibilities.

"For peace to bless our people, this world must tip into despair…

Hence

We must never despair.

Wrap yourself in hope, embrace the tides of the Whirlpool, so that everything other than us…"

Reality quaked violently as the surroundings of the past began to warp and twist, reshaping themselves into the smoldering ruins of a battlefield in the present. The oppressive darkness of the Uzumaki temple morphed into fire-scorched earth, where the faint echoes of devastation lingered.

At the center of it all stood Naruto, his very presence a stark contrast to the chaos around him. Calm, yet exuding an overwhelming aura of power, his figure seemed otherworldly. Before him, Aoi trembled, his knees buckling under the suffocating weight of Naruto's chakra. The air was heavy, thick with malice and despair, forcing Aoi into shallow, panicked gasps.

Naruto's left eye glowed ominously, its fractured irises spinning and radiating a malevolence that seemed to defy mortal comprehension. The power in his gaze pierced through Aoi's soul, exposing every fear, every insecurity, stripping him bare.

With an unnerving calmness, Naruto's voice cut through the silence like a razor. He spoke as though echoing a prophecy uttered long ago:

"…so that everything other than us…" he whispered, his tone carrying an air of inevitability.

Aoi's body trembled uncontrollably, his legs giving out beneath him. He collapsed onto the charred ground, his mind screaming for him to flee, yet his body betrayed him, rooted in place by sheer terror.

Naruto's gaze bore into him as he delivered the final words of his forebear's declaration:

"Will sink into despair."

Aoi stared at Naruto, unable to comprehend the transformation before him. "W-Who… who are you?" he stammered, his voice trembling with fear. He couldn't reconcile the powerful being standing before him with the boy he had battled moments ago. The resemblance was undeniable—the same red hair, the same torn cloak—but his chakra and that eye, that cursed eye, was something entirely different. It exuded something far beyond human.

Naruto didn't respond. The question hung in the air unanswered. Even he didn't fully recognize himself. Everything felt alien—his body, his mind, even his chakra. And deeper still, an unsettling shift stirred within him, something more. He didn't feel like himself anymore.

He landed on the ground and contemplated putting a end to the trash before him.

Then something struck him—a sensation so familiar yet distant, stirring memories buried deep within his bloodline. Without thinking, Naruto activated the Mind's Eye of the Kagura, a jutsu instinctively etched into the Uzumaki lineage. Closing his eyes, he opened his 'mind's eye,' his perception expanding outward, encompassing everything within miles. His senses touched upon every presence, every flicker of chakra, until a single ominous force blazed in his awareness like a black sun.

Visions of the past flooded his mind, fogging his thoughts. Images of war and destruction from the Third Great Shinobi War coursed through him, vivid and visceral. His breathing hitched as his left eye opened glowing brighter, red irises spinning faster. His right blue eye remained closed, as if half of him was asleep but the vision was clear.

"There's no doubt…" he muttered, his voice carrying an uncharacteristic edge. "This chakra..." A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, dark and foreboding. Then, like a storm breaking, his manic grin spread wide.

"The Eight-Tailed Jinchūriki!" he roared, his voice reverberating across the battlefield. With a burst of energy, Naruto leapt into the distance, leaving behind a stunned and trembling Aoi.

The air around Aoi grew lighter as Naruto's oppressive chakra faded, but the damage was already done. Slowly, shakily, Aoi rose to his feet. He stared at his trembling hands, even some of his hair began to fall out due to his mind being beyond fractured by what he had just witnessed.

"I felt it… That monsterous chakra… It even surpasses Lord Pain's... a God," he whispered, his voice quaking with disbelief. Aoi's knees buckled again, and he collapsed to the ground, his blade falling from his grasp. He began to cry helplessly, "I… I can't do this anymore. If monsters like that exist… I'm done. I'll never pick up a blade again."

With a hollow resolve, he turned and stumbled away, his will to fight utterly shattered.

XXX

In the heart of the forest, tension crackled like a live wire as two opposing groups faced off.

"We have no interest in conflict," Jiraiya declared, his voice steady but firm. His towering presence exuded authority, as if daring the Kumo shinobi to push the situation further. "But if it comes to that, Konoha won't back down."

Killer Bee, ever the rhyming wildcard, grinned wide. His hand lazily drifted toward his sword, his playful demeanor barely concealing his readiness for battle. "Conflict? Nah, we ain't got the time. But cross the line, and you'll hear the rhyme."

Before another word could be exchanged, the forest itself seemed to buckle under the weight of an oppressive chakra.

An immense wave of raw energy crashed down upon them like a tidal wave, bringing Konoha and Kumo shinobi alike to their knees.

"What… what the hell is this?" Tsume gasped, her voice trembling as she clung to Kuromaru for stability.

Inside Killer Bee, Gyūki, the Eight-Tails, stirred with alarm. His deep voice reverberated in Bee's mind. "This chakra… it's beyond comprehension. It feels potent, raw… No, this can't be… it's him."

Bee's grin faltered for the first time, replaced by a rare look of genuine disbelief. "Gyūki, who is this? What do you mean, him?"

Jiraiya, Kakashi, and the rest of the Konoha group were equally shaken. Shibi's insects recoiled, their instincts screaming to flee. Shikaku, despite his sharp intellect, struggled to even form a coherent thought under the overwhelming weight of the chakra.

"This chakra…" Jiraiya whispered, his voice barely audible. "It's almost as potent as the Nine Tails but more dense…"

Suddenly, the crushing pressure lifted as quickly as it had arrived, leaving everyone gasping for breath.

Then came the sound.

CRASH

The forest floor quaked beneath their feet as something—or someone—slammed into the ground with earth-shattering force. A cloud of dust erupted into the air, shrouding the figure in an obscuring haze.

Weapons were drawn, stances adjusted, and both factions instinctively took defensive positions. The tension was so thick it felt suffocating.

Through the settling dust, a lone figure emerged, his movements casual and unbothered, as if completely unaware of the lethal shinobi surrounding him. His red hair caught the faint rays of light piercing through the trees, but his face was shadowed, adding to the enigma of his presence.

When the dust finally cleared, the red-haired man stopped. A calm yet unsettling smile spread across his face as he turned his gaze toward Killer Bee. His hair shifted slightly, revealing a single glowing red eye, its multiple spinning irises like a vortex into madness.

"It's been too long…" he murmured, his tone eerily calm. But then his voice rose, a thunderous roar that sent shivers down everyone's spines.

"Eight-Tails Jinchūriki, MY BLOOD YEARNS FOR RETRIBUTION!"

Those words caused Jiraiya and the Konoha shinobi froze. Everyone saw the man before them but it contradicted everything they knew about the supposed 10 year old boy. He looked like he aged a bit and had damage from a previous battle but what concerned Jiraiya the most is that eye Naruto obtained. Everything came full circle, Tsunade predicting he will become a monster if his chakra gets out of hand came into fruition.

"N-Naruto?" Jiraiya stammered, stepping forward, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Is that… truly you?"

But 'Naruto'—if this even was Naruto—paid them no mind. His entire focus was locked onto Killer Bee.

Bee stood rigid, his usual carefree demeanor replaced with sheer terror. Images of the Third Great Shinobi War flashed through his mind: the gruesome destruction of the Whirlpool Village, the rivers of blood. To everyone else, Naruto stood before them, but Bee wasn't looking at Naruto. He was staring at him.

The one man that he feared, the one who slaughtered thousands by himself. The harbinger of that chaos...

"U-Uzumaki... A-Azashiro…" Bee muttered, his voice trembling. He instinctively took a step back, his entire body screaming to flee.

Yuugito noticed his uncharacteristic silence and stepped closer, her concern evident. "Bee… what's wrong? Who is this guy?"

Bee didn't answer immediately, his body trembling as he surged with Gyūki's chakra. His voice finally broke the silence, but it wasn't in rhyme. It was sharp, commanding, and desperate.

"Yuugito, you need to get out of here."

"What?" Yuugito frowned, looking between Bee and Naruto. "Bee, what's going on? You're scaring me—"

"NOW!" Bee roared, cutting her off. His voice carried the desperation of a man who had seen the impossible. "You need to leave. Warn the Raikage that he's back from the dead! Don't question it—just go! DO NOT HESITATE!"

Yuugito's heart raced as she glanced at the red-haired man. "Back from the dead? Bee, what are you—?"

But before she could finish, Bee fully transformed into his Four-Tails form, the earth quaking beneath his massive chakra. His towering form blocked Naruto's path, his fiery eyes glaring down at the younger man.

'Naruto's' smile widened, an unsettling grin that showed no fear—only excitement. He tilted his head slightly, his voice calm but dripping with malice. "You finally shown your true colors... Let's see if you're stronger than the last time."

The forest seemed to hold its breath, the final calm before the storm.

Unknown

Across the elemental nations, an ominous shift rippled through the fabric of reality, yet one being, imprisoned for years, was trapped in his own despair. The Nine-Tails, had endured endless cycles of confinement and rage. For years, he seethed within a cage forged of chakra, shackled by the will of mortals. His hatred for humanity grew sharper with every passing moment.

When the Snake Sannin, Orochimaru, had tampered with the seal holding his Ex Host, he saw an opportunity. Perhaps the boy's body would fail, or his mind would shatter—either way, his freedom seemed inevitable. But his hopes were dashed when a man wielding the Rinnegan appeared, ripping him from his vessel in a grotesque extraction. To his disgust, the man allied himself with the Nine-Tails' most despised enemy—Madara Uchiha, or so it seemed.

From one cage to the next, his torment deepened. His hatred boiled like molten lava, simmering beneath his stoic, fiery gaze. And yet, as he sulked in the vast emptiness of his new prison, something impossible happened.

A pulse of chakra tore through existence—a dense, ancient energy that sent shivers through Nine Tails immense form. His ears twitched, his eyes narrowing in recognition of its familiarity. The forest outside his cage came into focus, as if the fabric of his reality had shifted. He was no longer in his prison; he was in a secluded forest clearing, surrounded by the faint hum of unseen forces. Then, before he could react, he saw the bars of his cage begin to dissolve, vanishing into the ether like smoke in the wind.

He froze. His claws flexed, his massive body lowering into a defensive posture. For the first time in centuries, he was outside his prison—free, but far from safe. He scanned the clearing for the one who had summoned him, his glowing eyes narrowing as the scent of another being reached him.

From the shadows, a figure emerged. Purple concentric eyes glowed in the darkness, unmistakable even before the rest of the face was revealed.

The Fox's snarl echoed through the forest. "The Rinnegan…" His voice rumbled like distant thunder, each word dripping with venom. "So, it's you again, the pretender to the Sage's power. You dare to summon me? Foolish welp!" His chakra flared as his lips curled into a snarl. "Know this, mortal: I am no servant! My chakra belongs to no one!"

The figure stepped forward into the moonlight, calm and unflinching under his glare. As the light illuminated his face, The Nine Tails growls faltered, replaced by stunned silence. This was no mere wielder of the Rinnegan.

The Nine-Tails' eyes widened in recognition. "No… it can't be… You…"

The man standing before Kurama smiled gently, though his eyes held the weight of countless lifetimes. His long hair shimmered faintly in the moonlight, and his staff, a relic of unparalleled authority, rested by his side.

"Hagoromo," He whispered, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Where am I? What are you doing here?"

The Sage of Six Paths, the progenitor of shinobi, inclined his head solemnly. His presence radiated calm, yet the burden in his expression was unmistakable.

"Kurama," Hagoromo began, his voice steady yet carrying an undercurrent of urgency. "You're in my dimension... Listen I know you have suffered greatly, and for that, I am sorry. But I have come to ask for your aid. This world… it teeters on the edge of complete annihilation."

He remained still, his gaze locked onto the Sage. The raw authority of Hagoromo's presence kept even Kurama's fiery anger in check. "Why should I care about the fate of this world? It has brought me nothing but suffering," he growled.

Hagoromo's expression faltered for a moment, his eyes reflecting a flicker of sadness. "I understand your pain, but this is not about humanity alone. My brother… stirs once more. He is returning."

The forest seemed to still, the very air holding its breath at those words. Kurama's ears flattened against his head, and for the first time in centuries, he felt a shiver of unease. "Your brother?" he echoed, his tone dropping into something far more serious. "You don't mean…?"

Hagoromo nodded grimly. "Yes. My elder brother, who created the Uzumaki clan, has long been sealed away, his power deemed too dangerous for this world. But now, the seal is weakening, and his influence grows. If Yhwach regains his full strength, this world will be plunged into chaos."

Kurama's silence was telling. He had heard whispers of Yhwach in the depths of the ancestral chakra network—a being of such immense power that even the Sage of Six Paths feared him.

"Why come to me?" Kurama finally asked, his voice quieter but no less fierce. "Why would I help you?"

Hagoromo's gaze softened. "Because, Kurama, you were always more than a weapon of destruction. You were meant to be a guardian of balance, and this world needs you now more than ever. Yhwach's power is unlike any we've faced. I cannot stop him alone."

The Nine-Tails lowered his head, his claws digging into the earth as he wrestled with his emotions. Anger, fear, defiance, and a reluctant sense of duty clashed within him.

"Damn you, Hagoromo," he muttered, his voice low and filled with reluctant acceptance. "If I agree, it's for myself. Not for your precious humans."

A faint smile returned to Hagoromo's face. "That is enough."

Kurama's cage fully dissolved, and his immense form stood unrestrained under the moonlight. The forest quaked as his power surged, his tails lashing through the air like massive whips.

Hagoromo stepped forward, placing a hand on the beast's massive paw. "I'll leave it up to you. For Yhwach's return will mark the beginning of a war unlike any other. This time you'll bond with someone much more suited for this..."

Kurama snarled but did not move away. His red eyes gleamed in the darkness, his resolve hardening. Whatever lay ahead, he would face it as he always had—unbowed and unbroken. Then something clicked, "Wait a minute, 'someone' more suited? Don't tell me you're sealing into another welp!?"

The Sage smiled but didn't answer.

Kurama roared , "Wait yo-" his roaring plea was cut off he was sealed and sent away. To the Sage chucked.

Above it all, the moon glowed brighter, as if bearing silent witness to the alliance between the Sage and the Nine-Tails once again.