Eternal Yujin
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TCoH—Chapter 3.30 [53]
🕑 Added 2025-01-09 17:22:42 +0000 UTC- - -
Chapter 3.30 [53]
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Searching for people who didn’t want to be found was always difficult, but Jiraiya enjoyed the process. A generous tip here, a free drink there, and he had something to work with. If not, he at least got a good time out of it. He knew very little where this revived Akatsuki was concerned, though. Because of Orochimaru’s fleeting membership and its ties to his dead students, Jiraiya had kept tabs on the organisation as best he could, uncovering five known members.
So, when he received the old man’s missive all those weeks ago to investigate Itachi Uchiha and Kisame Hoshigaki, he expected it to take a fortnight at most. Instead, Jiraiya had spent an unreasonable amount of time crawling the country’s western coast after wringing Gato for all the information he possessed about the pair he’d hired.
It wasn’t just the trail of destruction they left in their wake that bothered him; it was the deliberation behind it. As an S-rank mercenary group, the new Akatsuki were always hired by the wealthy. Clearly, they were amassing funds, but for what? Jiraiya didn’t have a clue about their motivations, but that alone was a stark difference from the Akatsuki Yahiko, Konan, and Nagato had founded.
When Jiraiya stepped into the modest coastal inn, he knew immediately that his search had ended, no matter if he found them or not. Earlier in the day, he’d received yet another missive from the old man, recalling him to the village because of Orochimaru. He’d wanted to go immediately, but after weeks of dedicating himself to the search, Jiraiya wanted to see this to the end.
So, at least for today, he would continue looking.
He approached the innkeeper with his easy smile. “Evening, friend. I’m looking for a couple of travellers—tall, cloaked types, who might’ve come through recently.”
The man eyed the notes scattered across the countertop. “The room at the end of the hall.”
Jiraiya climbed the stairs slowly, his sandals silent against the creaking wood. He stopped outside the room when a gruff voice rumbled from within.
“Come on in, old man. We’ve been expecting you.”
Jiraiya pushed the door open, stepping across its threshold with a low exhale. Kisame Hoshigaki sat casually at a low table, leaning against the wall beside him. Itachi stood by the window, his face unreadable as he stared out at the sea.
“Well, well,” Jiraiya said, stepping inside and sliding the door shut behind him. “The big fish and the once prodigal son. You’re not making it easy for an old man to catch up, you know.”
“You’ve been nosy, Jiraiya of the Sannin,” said Kisame, chuckling. “Not a good habit to have.”
“And here I thought you’d appreciate the attention.” Jiraiya kept his gaze on Itachi, consciously avoiding his eyes. “You’ve caused quite a stir back in the Wave. Makes a man wonder what you’re after. Care to enlighten me?”
Kisame’s grin widened. Jiraiya blinked at his ashen right hand, obviously paler than the rest of the Kisame’s skin. The shark-like man grabbed Samehada and swung it in a wide arc. Jiraiya leapt back, dodging the blade by a hair’s breadth as it tore through the tatami floor.
“Straight to the point, huh?” Jiraiya said, landing on the wall and standing upright against its surface.
“Your sense of humour hasn’t dulled, it seems,” Itachi replied, his voice devoid of any amusement.
Jiraiya dodged another wide swing, the bandaged blade swiping harmlessly in front of him. “You’re being awfully quiet for someone who likes to show off those fancy eyes.”
The provocation worked as intended. Kisame stepped back slightly, hefting the massive sword over a shoulder. Itachi moved then, and Jiraiya barely deflected a kunai aimed for his ribs against his wrist guard, his grin never faltering as Itachi leaned against his knife’s edge.
Itachi’s lips twitched, subtly mouthing ‘sell it’ from an angle Kisame couldn’t see.
Jiraiya’s eyes narrowed as they broke away. “Let’s see what the kinslayer’s got.”
Itachi’s Sharingan flared, and Jiraiya felt the pull of genjutsu creeping in. He resisted instinctively, forcing Itachi to fight harder to maintain the illusion.
Meanwhile, Kisame watched the battle with glee, his laughter echoing as he swung Samehada in wide arcs to force Jiraiya to split his attention. Jiraiya sidestepped another strike, his hands a blur as he summoned a small toad that sprayed Kisame with oil before dispelling.
“Careful what you wish for,” Jiraiya replied, using the momentary distraction to douse Kisame in flames.
With the swordsman busy, he turned his focus to Itachi. Their eyes met, and the world around Jiraiya shifted. The room melted away, replaced by a dark void. Jiraiya found himself immobilised on a crumbling surface, with Itachi standing before him, his eyes glowing.
“Apologies, Lord Jiraiya, but this must seem real," Itachi said. Jiraiya could see the beginnings of pity in his eyes. “Kisame must not suspect anything.”
Jiraiya felt the piercing slip of cold steel between his ribs. Itachi stood before him, a straight, single-edged sword a quarter of the way inside his torso.
“J-Jeez,” Jiraiya laughed through the pain, “this sure is some jutsu.”
“I’ll make it quick,” Itachi replied. His eyes hardened. Jiraiya watched as dozens upon dozens of clones materialised out of the void, each brandishing a sword. He cast his gaze to the sky; impossibly dark clouds rolled overhead.
“Well, get it over with then,” Jiraiya said. “Just ‘cause it’s necessary, doesn’t mean I need to like it.”
Itachi’s clones surged forward. Jiraiya stood firm, not that he had a choice with his body frozen by the genjutsu. He gritted his teeth, pain tearing free from his lips as blood slicked the ground beneath him.
“In the next few years, the Akatsuki will come for the Tailed Beasts,” Itachi said mid-thrust. “That has been the end goal. All of our mercenary operations were for the sake of acquiring resources and wealth.
“The jinchuriki… they’re after all of them?” Jiraiya’s breath hitched as another blade pierced his side. “For what, war?”
“Correct,” Itachi said quietly, pausing Jiraiya’s pincushioning to answer. “And they won’t stop until they have them all. I’m sorry, but this is all I can reveal without bringing further scrutiny upon myself. The Akatsuki’s leader has been suspicious of me since the very beginning.”
Jiraiya’s lips twisted into a grim smile. “Y-You’re committed to the act, but still… I-I can’t help but pity you, kid.”
Itachi’s expression remained unreadable, though his clones pressed the assault. “This is the cost of secrecy,” he replied. “You understand as much as I do.”
“No,” taking a moment to breathe in despite the sharp pain, Jiraiya managed a tight-lipped grimace, “I’m talking about your sacrifice amounting to nothing. See, I’ve been following O-Orochimaru around… seen a lot of his abandoned labs and the thing he’s obsessed with. Enough to know he’s obsessed with the Sharingan—with you.”
“...He tried to take over my body when he was part of the Akatsuki.” Itachi stepped back, as did his clones. “He failed.”
Jiraiya relaxed despite the six blades plunged into various spots all over his body—that alone brought a fresh wave of pain. “S-Sure… but there’s someone else with Sharingan he can go to. You have a kid brother, right?”
“Sasuke is a shinobi unlike myself,” Itachi said with a frown. “He values his comrades. I do not believe he’ll abandon them.”
“I-I dunno about that,” said Jiraiya. “The old man had to tell me the truth about the Uchiha because of you but O-Orochimaru? The bastard’s a smart cookie; even if he doesn’t know everything, he probably knows enough to destroy Sasuke’s trust in the village.”
The young man didn’t seem to like that by the look on his face.
“I-I’m not saying your brother is a traitor.”
Any attempt to talk was painful in and of itself, but Jiraiya was sick and tired of chasing around his old friend. He’d seen more of Orochimaru’s innermost self than he ever cared to. Experimenting on children and throwing said experiments away without a second thought if he deemed them failures.
Manipulating Itachi didn’t sit easy with him, but the pain of half a dozen blades soothed his guilty conscience at least a tad. If a little pain was all it took to point a world of trouble in Orochimaru’s direction, then Jiraiya would bear it with a grin.
“Think of it this way, what would you pick: a quick path to power without any hang-ups or stupid bureaucracy? Throw in a little bit of the truth and I reckon your kid brother will fly right into his arms.”
“...I didn’t think of it that way,” Itachi said, slowly as if he’d realised the thought as he spoke it aloud. “This can’t stand.”
Jiraiya winced himself upright. In case they failed to put Orochimaru down in the Leaf, Itachi would serve as a decent contingency plan. “So, are we done here? I’d prefer that we didn’t go through another round of Stab the Toad Sage.”
For the briefest moment, Itachi’s gaze softened, a flicker of humanity beneath the crimson glow of his Sharingan. “I apologise for the torture, but I need to keep up appearances—it was never personal.”
Against his better nature, he held back the urge to make a joke about the boy’s dead clan. Splinters of light began piercing through the dark. Itachi’s clones vanished one by one as the rays of light hit them, their forms disintegrating like ash in the wind.
The oppressive pain eased as reality reasserted itself.
Back in the inn, Jiraiya’s body collapsed to the floor with a heavy thud, his breath coming in shallow gasps.
Kisame stood over him. “Finally down for the count, eh?” He cackled, hefting the sword over his shoulder. “Guess the legendary Sannin aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.”
Itachi approached slowly, his expression unreadable once again. “He had the misfortune of looking into my eyes. I’m grateful he wasn’t able to find his footing; one of us would have had to die to put him down. Jiraiya is a master of Sealing Jutsu. There’s no need to test the chance that he’s set up a trap in the event of his death. Let’s go, Kisame.”
The blue-skinned man frowned but relented, sheathing his sword. “You’re no fun, you know that?”
Left alone and teetering on the edge of consciousness, Jiraiya felt the sting of immaterial wounds, parsing the intel Itachi had given him. His consciousness drifted in and out, and the memories of the fight flickered like distant flames.
———————————
When he finally stirred, it was to the dim light filtering through the paper-thin walls of a different room.
“Where…?” His voice cracked, his throat dry. He swung his legs over the side of the mat, forcing himself to stand despite the dizziness threatening to topple him.
He stumbled out of the room, gripping the wall for balance, and made his way downstairs. The faint hum of conversation greeted him, and he spotted the innkeeper wiping down the counter.
“You’re awake,” the man said, his voice tinged with both surprise and relief. “Thought you were a goner, honestly.”
Jiraiya ignored the comment, his eyes sharp despite his unsteady frame. “How long have I been out?”
“Three days, give or take.” The innkeeper hesitated, his hands stilling on the rag. “I-I’ve not touched your stuff. Judging by the scuffle upstairs, you’re shinobi… but if you’ve any goodwill to spare, I’d happily take it.”
The words hit Jiraiya like a blow. His breath caught, and his mind raced. Three days. Orochimaru. The old man. He slammed a hand on the counter, leaning heavily against it as he passed a wad of notes substantial enough that the man bowed deeply.
Jiraiya’s heart pounded. He couldn’t afford to waste another second. “Thanks for not robbing me,” he muttered, already turning toward the door.
Itachi’s words and Orochimaru’s threat bore down on him through the sun’s harsh glare. The Leaf was vulnerable, and he’d been out of commission while the village faced its most dangerous enemy.
The Hidden Leaf was in chaos. Ominously dark smoke billowed into the sky, turning the afternoon sun into a hazy orb of orange. Shinobi clashed in the streets, their silhouettes darting through the alleys, rooftops, and barricades hastily thrown together.
Explosions punctuated the air, their shockwaves rattling even from a distance. Jiraiya landed on the village outskirts, the acrid scent of fire and blood filling his nostrils. His heart sank as he scanned the scene before him, civilian and shinobi corpses strewn across the streets alike.
The ANBU were everywhere, their masks glinting as they moved in coordinated strikes.
“Danzo must’ve let ROOT out of their cage," he muttered grimly. “At least the bastard’s good for something in times like these.”
A masked ANBU operative streaked past him, landing on a nearby roof. Jiraiya leapt up to intercept. “Where’s the Third Hokage?”
The agent didn’t flinch at the sudden question. “He was sealed in combat with Orochimaru at the Kage box,” they replied. “The barrier collapsed minutes ago.”
Jiraiya’s stomach twisted. With a burst of chakra, he bounded toward the arena, his mind racing.
When he arrived, the sight that met him froze him mid-step. Hiruzen Sarutobi lay crumpled on the stone dais, his once-fitting battle armour baggy and coated in dust and blood. Monkey King Enma crouched nearby, meeting Jiraiya’s with eyes full of grief and rage.
Then Jiraiya saw the figure standing beside his teacher’s body. The boy was young, no more than twelve, but his presence filled the ruined space. His brown flak jacket bore fresh tears, and his wild blond hair was tied back at the nape, though loose strands framed a face lined with exhaustion.
His blue eyes glimmered with something Jiraiya thought he’d never see again—grief, yes, but tempered by clarity, like a blade honed too soon. Jiraiya approached cautiously, his heart heavy. The boy turned to face him fully, and Jiraiya saw the glint of fresh tears on his cheeks.
"You’re Jiraiya," the boy said, his voice steady despite the weight of his words.
Jiraiya nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I am. And you’re Naruto."
Naruto didn’t reply immediately, his gaze returning to the still form of Hiruzen. “Sarutobi-sensei called for you days ago.” His words were quiet but hurt more than any blade Itachi could plunge into him. “Where were you?”
He opened his mouth, but no excuse would come. With the truth firmly off the table, Jiraiya had no answer that wouldn’t sound hollow or self-serving.
Naruto took his silence as confirmation of guilt and continued, “He said you’d come,” his hands clenched into a fist at his side, trembling slightly. “but you weren’t here.”
Jiraiya’s voice faltered. The weight of secrecy pressed against him, forbidding him from explaining. “...I’m sorry, Naruto.”
Naruto’s head snapped toward him. A thousand accusations swam in his eyes amidst the well of unshed tears. Jiraiya bowed his head, his guilt too heavy to bear under the scrutiny of such a familiar face.
He hadn’t expected this to be his first meeting with his student’s son. Naruto turned away, kneeling beside their teacher. He whispered something Jiraiya couldn’t hear, his fingers brushing the edge of his sleeve.
Enma broke the silence. “You’re too late, Jiraiya.”
Jiraiya stepped toward him, lowering his voice. "Enma… tell me what happened."
The Monkey King turned to face him. “It was Orochimaru.” He spat the name like venom. “Hiruzen and I conversed about him soon after he sent for you. He thought Orochimaru would summon Minato and Kushina, so he summoned Kushina. But instead, the fiend brought the First and Second Hokage back using that cursed jutsu.”
Jiraiya’s eyes widened, dread pooling in his stomach. “The Reanimation Jutsu—wait, but if the old man brought back Kushina, why is he dead?”
Enma nodded grimly. “Hiruzen fought valiantly, but the boy… he lost control of the Nine-Tails. His mother ran off to find him, leaving him alone against the two Hokage. He sealed the First and Second away using the Reaper Death Seal, but when it came time to take Orochimaru, his strength failed. He only managed to take away his ability to weave hand signs.”
“Don’t worry,” he replied. “I had a feeling he’d slither away—but I didn’t think he’d kill Sensei. He’ll get what’s coming to him Enma, I promise.”
Jiraiya closed his eyes, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. Despite the countless sermons, a part of him couldn’t believe that the old man had given everything—his life, his legacy—to protect the village.
And he hadn’t been there to help him. Luckily Itachi would do what the old man couldn’t and hopefully put him down… though a part of him yearned to get a crack at his old friend before that happened. Still, wisdom prevailed in the end; the village was in dire straits and there was someone more important to him than revenge mourning their teacher in silence.
“Naruto,” Jiraiya said softly, glancing at the boy.
He didn’t look up. Jiraiya nodded, stepping back; he was going to ask after Kushina, but it was clear Naruto was grieving. He had no choice but to bear the guilt silently—he deserved at least that much. The Monkey King disappeared, leaving frothing smoke in his absence.
Jiraiya stood behind Naruto, the boy’s frame still and unmoving beside Hiruzen’s body, in silence, despite the ruined village around them.
———————————
After nearly dying, channelling the chakra of a centuries-old sentient chakra-being comprised totally of hatred, and finding out my mother was pulled down from ninja heaven, the feedback from several dozen shadow clones was just the icing on the cake.
Waking up to an unfamiliar ceiling wasn’t the worst thing either, but what came afterwards was. I realised with all the weight of a sinking stone that Lord Third was dead, despite everything I’d done to stop that from happening.
The sun was setting. Ruin greeted me like an old friend as I stared out the window to my left. Someone had pulled up a chair across from my bed, but they weren’t there and the door to the hospital room was closed.
Though the red haori slung over the chair was enough to clue me in on their identity. The weight in my chest tightened; it wasn’t Jiraiya’s fault that Lord Third died, but with Orochimaru slithering off, he was just a convenient place to offload everything because he was late.
At the end of all this, he lost someone he cared about, too. Kabuto’s death was the only silver lining here… well, that and all of the late Kazekage’s children sitting firmly in Leaf custody somewhere in the village to be used later.
Jiraiya froze at the door’s threshold, one foot in and looked back. “He’s awake!”
After a moment’s thought, I chose to prop myself up. I’d ditched my mother and Haku out of worry over Lord Third, so they’d probably met up with Jiraiya at some point after I passed out.
As if on cue, my mother ducked under Jiraiya’s massive frame, shooting straight for me. She came in like a hurricane, red hair blazing and with an energy that defied every law of post-mortem existence. Before I could even get out a weak greeting, she was at my bedside, fussing over me like I was five years old and had skinned my knee.
“Have you eaten yet?” she demanded, pressing her cold, dead hand against my forehead. “You look pale. Jiraiya, does he look pale to you?”
“Probably because of the compounding mental exhaustion of these past couple of hours,” I shot back, not that my mother had heard my reply over her fussing. “But I’m good now.”
“I—uh—” Jiraiya wisely decided not to step between a recently resurrected mother and her overachieving concern.
She pulled a bowl of something from a bag I hadn’t even noticed she was carrying. “Here, eat this. It’ll help.”
It looked suspiciously like a homemade stew, and I had questions—like, who gave my mother a kitchen while she was a soul puppeteering someone else’s body? But before I could voice any of them, she shoved a spoonful into my mouth.
“Yep,” I thought as the rich taste of something spicy and vaguely nostalgic hit me, “that’s the stuff.”
“Is that too salty?” she asked, peering at me like I’d insulted her entire culinary lineage.
I managed to choke down the mouthful and say, “It's fine, Mum—just a bit spicy, but I liked it.”
“Fine?” she echoed, looking offended. “This is a family recipe passed down for generations! Lady Mito taught me that!”
Somewhere behind her, Jiraiya cleared his throat. “Kushina, maybe give him a second to—”
She spun on him so fast I thought she might hit him with the spoon. “Don’t Kushina me! Where were you when my son was almost killed!”
And there it was—the guilt trip of the century, ignoring the fact that he was the one who dragged me here. Jiraiya, to his credit, looked like he wanted to evaporate on the spot.
“In his defence,” I said, “I did this to myself long before he got here. How was he meant to know?”
Meanwhile, I was still trying to figure out why she was rattling off questions at a speed no human being should be capable of. “Are you rested enough? Do you want to have a bath?”
I wanted to remind her that I had, in fact, just survived a battle, but chose to remain quiet instead.
Jiraiya took this as his cue to edge toward the door. “I’ll, uh, go check on the—”
“You stay right there!” my mother interrupted his excuse while not even looking his way. “We’re going to talk about your responsibilities next—actually, no. Go find Kakashi and bring Naruto’s friend here, too. I might as well meet them. Asuma Sarutobi was your jonin sensei, right?”
The mention of Lord Third’s son twisted Jiraiya’s already forced smile. She pursed her lips, looking at him with a regretful kind of sadness. “But if it’s too soon, it’s okay. You can—”
“No,” Jiraiya said, putting on an unconvincing smile. “I’ll grab ‘em. Anything else you guys want me to grab?”
I just gave him a weak shrug when his eyes found mine—after all, I was stuck here. “There’s a girl under transformation called Suzumi in one of the bunkers. She’s probably out of it now. She’s got red glasses, red eyes, and brown hair. If she’s undone the transformation, she’s got red hair. Her real name’s Karin. Bring her too—I think she’d get a lot out of meeting my mother.”
He left through the door, and all I could do was lean back against the pillows and let the whirlwind of maternal interrogation carry me away. Eventually, she calmed down, pulling up Jiraiya’s chair and settling down in front of the window.
“Another girl you want to introduce to me?” she asked, smiling. “I’m starting to see a pattern here, son.”
I snorted. “Yeah, right. Speaking of, where is Haku?”
“An ANBU agent took her in,” she replied. “Saru, I think he called himself. I was going to take her back, but Haku agreed to follow him.”
“So she’s in prison?”
“I doubt they’ll do anything to her since she came along willingly. Torture isn’t a first resort, after all.” My mother smiled at me. “If anything, they might choose to make her a Leaf shinobi if she’s cooperative enough. Haku does have a powerful bloodline ability, after all.”
I frowned. “She’s got nowhere else to go, so I suppose there are worse things to happen… still, how long do you think they’ll hold her.”
“Am I witnessing your first crush?” my mother asked, bringing her hands to her chest. “She’s a little older than you, but not enough to be worrying. I approve!”
I shook my head, not even dignifying her with an answer—plus there was an elephant in the room that I hadn’t had the opportunity to approach until now that’d serve as a decent topic change.
“Who brought you back?” I asked, watching the smile vanish off my mother’s face. “You gave me a non-answer before. Orochimaru resurrecting you in a way isn’t specific enough, Mum.”
She studied the get-well-soon posters and the half a dozen variations of the phrase dotted about the room.
“Was it really Orochimaru? Because he offered to bring back you and Dad if I joined him. If that’s the case, why are you in control?”
She looked at me, and a muscle in her jaw twitched. “I… Okay, I was brought back by Hiruzen. I made him promise not to tell you, but seeing that he’s…”
“Right,” I replied. The mattress under me lurched—or maybe that was just me. “I’m guessing it was to stop Orochimaru from doing it first?”
She nodded.
I took a moment to breathe deeply and ignore the tangled ball of emotions writhing in my stomach.
Thinking I was strong enough to face Kabuto was what got him killed. So, in a way, it was my fault. That realisation was a whisper in the back of my skull that just wouldn’t stop, and the pity in my mother's eyes only made it worse.
“Then… he’s dead because of me,” I said. “If I hadn’t used the Nine-Tails’ chakra, you wouldn’t have come to find me. No matter what you say, that’s the truth.”
“Naruto,” my mother said, reaching out to touch my hand—hers was cold to the point I nearly flinched. “Hiruzen was the Hokage, and the village was his family. Don’t regret on his behalf.”
I fought the urge to scoff at her consolation. “What about Dad? Did he seal the Nine-Tails in me because he loved the village, knowing how it would shape my life? Were you okay when it happened to you? Was he okay when he did it to me?”
She pulled away with a long sigh. “He did it because he loved you. I know it’s hard to hear bu—”
“K-Kushina?” a disbelieving whisper followed the click of the door. Kakashi’s arm hovered, and he gawked, holding up everyone I could see behind him. I was grateful for the interruption, leaning back and letting Kakashi take her attention away from me.
“You’ve grown super tall, huh?” She walked towards him. He seemed stuck, unable to do much except stare with his wide, dark eye. Even when my mother hugged him, his reaction was delayed an entire second.
“B-But how?” he asked when they parted, moving over to let everyone else in.
I watched Choji, Asuma, Karin, and even Hinata enter before Jiraiya closed the door. Beside her was the green-haired attendant enough times to recognise.
My mother followed Kakashi to get a better look at his face. “You look old, Kakashi.”
“And you look… the same,” he replied, his voice wobbling.
“I hope you’re not keeping up your terrible habits, you know.”
Asuma looked a lot more put-together for a man who’d lost his father—but I knew better. “This, I’ve got to hear because he still reads porn in public.”
“You’re Asuma, I’m guessing,” my mother said, her smile only widening when she saw him. “Thanks for looking out for my kid.”
“It’s no worry,” he replied, chuckling as he looked at me. “Though without me, he would’ve blown himself before graduating from the Academy.”
I rolled my eyes. “No way it was that bad.”
“You blew yourself damn near thirty feet into the air.”
“And I knew how to fall properly, didn’t I!” I retorted, eyeing my mother’s growing amusement. “You didn’t have to snatch me out of the air.”
Asuma smiled. “Would we be here if I didn’t?”
“You seem to have had it rough. He’s a stubborn one, isn’t he?” my mother said.
“Like nothing else.”
“Gets that from me, I think.” She stretched her arms out. “In any case, there’s not much I can do, being a resurrected soul and all, to repay you, so a hug will have to do.” Lurching him down into her embrace, she said, “And I’m truly sorry for your loss.”
“...Thank you,” he replied, accepting the gesture for what it was—if nothing else, he’d be getting a lot of those in a few hours.
I frowned, a fresh wave of guilt rippling through me at the sight. That was, until Choji and Hinata approached the other side of my bed, neither wanting to speak first. I looked at them—Choji’s worried fidgeting and Hinata looking paler than I’d seen.
“Are you okay?” I asked her. “The internal damage from the Gentle Fist isn’t a joke, you know?”
“Throw in a few broken ribs too, but I’m… better,” she said.
“Good thing you missed the invasion,” said Choji. “It was… not good.”
I gave him a light push. “Give yourself some credit, will you? Nobody in here fought a massive three-headed snake.”
“Most of it was my father and cousins… besides, you literally saved the entire village.”
“The entire village is an exaggeration, and you know it—so, just take the compliment.”
My mother seemed to love the sight of us, having rushed over to sweep Choji and Hinata into a hug. “Aren’t you guys adorable,” she said, laughing. “Thanks for being friends with my son!”
“I-It’s no worry, ma’am,” Choji replied, and it might have been a trick of the light, but I swore he was blushing.
Hinata smiled. “He’s a good friend.”
Soon after, she started to cough, and the sound summoned her attendant. The green-haired woman led her to an empty chair and returned to her with a cup of water.
“Is she alright?” my mother asked.
“She was hurt during the tournament. Didn’t you see her match?”
“I didn’t.”
I looked around to see Karin hovering awkwardly near the door.
“You holding up, okay?” I asked, inviting her to join my friends around the bedside.
“It was… intense, but I’m okay,” she replied. Her eyes darted to my mother for a second before she looked away. “H-Hello, ma’am.”
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“It’s Karin… Uzumaki, I guess?”
My mother laughed. “I guess?”
“Long story,” I replied. “How was the invasion, Karin? I ran into you once, I think.”
“One of your clones helped out,” she said, frowning. “There were so many of them I thought you were dead in a ditch somewhere.”
I nodded. “Because I summoned so many of them, I don’t remember anything specific. Still, I’m glad you’re okay.”
Asuma laughed—it was too loud, slightly too happy. “My Dad teaches you his signature jutsu, and the first thing you do is create a mini army.”
“Technically, the first thing I did was use them for training.”
“Figures.”
“Not that I’m unhappy about this,” I said, raising my voice over the three different conversations going on, “but what’s this for? I’m not gonna die, and I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to leave soon.”
My mother glided over, her elation at having met my friends fading. “I’m not going to be here forever, and I wanted to meet everyone important to you. At least that way, I’ll have tons of stories for your father, right?”
“Well,” I looked around, “this is just about everyone, but you’re missing out, Mr Teuchi and Ayame. There’s also Sasuke, I guess, and Ino and Shikamaru.”
“...The Ichiraku Ramen family?” she asked, her voice dropping.
I nodded.
“...I can’t feel anything,” she said, bowing her head. “And that means I can’t taste ramen.”
“Uh…”
Tears shimmered in her eyes. “To go to them would only be torture.”
Jiraiya snorted, and Kakashi shook his head with a wistful chuckle.
“The truth is, I can feel my soul wanting to return anyway,” she said. “I’ve been fighting it for a few hours now, but I’ll be gone soon. I wanted to stick around for Hiruzen’s funeral, but that might bring more trouble onto you all, so,” she turned away, “I’d like some private time with my son if that’s okay.”
No one voiced anything to the contrary, and with the admission that she’d be disappearing, I found there wasn’t much I could say. For a long moment, my mother just looked at me. Her gaze wasn’t heavy, but it wasn’t soft either. It felt like standing in the wind: bracing and a little cold but alive.
Strange because she was very much not so.
“I want to talk to you about being a Jinchuriki,” she said finally.
I’d never liked hearing the word, let alone talking about it and only ever did because it was necessary. It was less a word and more like a brand, one I’d worn my entire life. And yet, coming from her, I felt none of that.
“Okay,” I said. “What about it?”
My mother’s smile was faint. “You’re just as much a prisoner of the Nine-Tails as it is yours.”
I frowned, not quite following. She sat down opposite me, playing with the edge of the hooded ANBU robe. “The Nine-Tails isn’t just chakra. It’s malice incarnate. Anger, fear, bloodlust—raw, festering emotions that don’t belong to you but will try to become you if you let them. It doesn’t stop. Not when you’re awake, not when you’re asleep. It’s always there, whispering, pushing, sometimes more.”
I thought of the times I’d felt that presence during the invasion—cold and suffocating, a storm raging just behind my ribs, stoking things I already felt.
“So what am I supposed to do about it?” I asked, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice. “Just ignore it? I’ve tried my whole life, and in the end, I still couldn’t keep the Nine-Tails at bay.”
“No,” she said. “You can’t ignore it. The Nine-Tails thrives on negativity, on everything dark and broken inside you. Ignoring it will only make you even more frustrated. Instead, fight its malice with love.”
I blinked, caught off guard, snorting. “Love?”
She nodded, smiling now. “Sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? Lady Mito told me that Jinchuriki are vessels. Vessels to imprison things that would bring ruin to us. But we’re also vessels for other things too; all the things you’ve experienced become a part of you. Every time the Nine-Tails tried to drown me in its hatred, I relied on love to find the strength to stand firm.”
“But what if—” I started, then stopped.
“What if what?” she prompted gently.
“What if it’s not enough?”
Her cold hands gripped my shoulders, and her touch was sharp, even through my shirt. But it was grounding, like she was holding me together with her bare hands.
“It’s okay to feel like that, Naruto. There will be days when it feels like the darkness is winning. Days when you’re tired, when you want to give up—days like today when you’ve lost someone you love. But even when they die, who they were is still with you. You don’t live for the Nine-Tails. You live so that you can spend time with them. Regardless of what anyone says, remind yourself of that every day, alright?”
I stared at her. For a moment, I couldn’t speak. Then I nodded, swallowing hard. “...Okay,” I said quietly.
Kushina smiled, her hands squeezing my shoulders briefly before she stood. “Good. Because you’ve got this, Naruto. Minato knew you’d be able to handle it because you’re our son. And I may not have liked it, but I agreed with sealing the Nine-Tails in you because of that fact. I know you won’t believe in yourself as much as we do, but do your best—that’s all I’ll ever ask.”
I watched as my mother took a step back, her gaze shifting upwards for a moment. There was something almost peaceful about her expression now. I didn’t know how long she’d been fighting it, the pull of whatever it was that called her away. I didn’t know how long she’d felt it—maybe ever since Lord Third had summoned her.
Her eyes were distant, softening at the edges. The wind picked up around us, but it didn’t feel cold like it did before. Her smile, faint as it was, turned bittersweet.
Then she began to glow.
“I’ll be gone soon,” she murmured, her voice regretful but quiet like she didn’t want to disturb the process.
The knot in my chest tightened, but I stayed quiet, waiting. I’d just found her, and here she was, ready to go away—probably for a lifetime. And who knew if I’d see her again? Maybe this life was just another one in a long line of lives I’d live.
Her hands were at her sides now, open like she was ready to reach out but held back by something I couldn’t see. She was here, but not, and the more I looked at her, the more I felt the distance growing like she was slipping away through my fingers.
I couldn’t hold onto her, and that realisation burned.
For a long moment, we were just... together. She was still my mother, and I was still her son. No words needed to be exchanged, and her presence wasn’t gone yet, not completely.
“I’ll always be with you—your father will too,” she said softly, looking like she could read every word and half-formed goodbye in my head. “No matter where I go, you’ll have that.”
The ethereal light poured out of her, intense enough to make me squint. Her soul—because there was nothing else I could call it—rose like a wave pulling back from the shore. It looked down at me with eyes full of life until the only thing left of her was the corpse she’d been inhabiting.
That last smile of hers was the kind of smile I could hold on to forever.
- - -
Comments
Xardas2995
I don't know how to feel about Jiraiya being in the know on Itachis true allegiance. It makes sense for Hiruzen to inform Jiraiya given the circumstances, but it changes so much. I wonder whether Itachi and Kisame will even go to Konoha now. Honestly, I fantasized a lot on the SI somehow confronting Itachi on the topic in a desperate situation. In general I was/am looking forward on the SIs take on many Akatsuki members though Itachi and Kisame in particular. Both of them have a very interesting backgrounds/philosophies. Kisame was really sold to me the way he died and his own form of loyalty to Obito. This has the potential to change so much or in the end change very little. Well the potential butterflies keep getting bigger now. So now we have a good explanation why Jiraiya is late. Good. Otherwise readers might argue that you just wanted Hiruzen for the heck of it. Jiraiya explaining how Itachis shaping of Sasuke in a hatred filled avenger could go the wrong way was interesting and nice. I do not think Itachi is a moron. His ways to monitor Sasukes appreciation of Konoha was/is limited. It is good that Jiraiya adjusted his assumptions. Jiraiya and Itachi potentially collaborating in the story is a very nice twist. With the potential that Naruto might get drawn in as well. Though now I wonder whether Jiraiya might also try to watch over Sasuke at least somewhat. He has a good heart and knowing now what Itachi did and went through I wonder whether he will see himself as one of the few people knowing the truth being responsible for Sasuke. So no other scene during the invasion, huh? I must admit I am somewhat sad about that, but also glad. It was an action filled roller coaster for 6? chapters now if we include the tournament. It was probably a good decision to switch the Pov and have the rest of the invasion play out off screen. I guess the next couple of chapters deal with the fallout, reflection from multiple characters, etc.? Jiraiya must feel terrible. Blaming himself and then also being blamed by Enma and Naruto. Good for Naruto to have a chance to properly say goodbye to his mother. Though I am confused? Was it not that the Edo Tensei has to be released by the caster, otherwise the reanimation remains? Or can the reanimation decide by itself to return if the caster of the jutsu has no control over them? Still I feel this was too short a time for Kushina, but I understand that keeping her in the story longer would have complicated things too much. So Narutos parentag might still remain a "secret" for some time. Kushina saying Naruto has to balance the Kyuubis hatred with love can only mean one thing: !!!HAREM!!! Shout it form the rooftops! Despite Kushinas advice I wonder how well the SI will do emotionally. I think it will be a constant back and forth (as it should really). Hiruzens death hurts him a lot and he blames himself. Him becoming popular among the civilians and maybe also some shinobi in Konoha might backfire. Hiruzen is dead. The other nations will look for weakness. War could be around the corner. The expectations shoved on the SI will be immense and now no one can say it is not necessary or he is not ready. Once he is promoted Asuma cannot shield him anymore either. What will the SI be like if he returns from the front after being sent to fight Otogakure? What did Minato feel like after killing countless people and probably even enjoying the thrill of battle somewhat? Defending Konoha was kinda instinctual, but even then the SI briefly wondered about the enemies he put down. What will he feel like if he slaughters opponents who are out of their league facing the SI? When will he realize he has become Zabuza/Orochimaru/the monster? What will he do then?
Eternal Yujin
I'm glad you enjoyed it! ^^
Fran
An amazing chapter to close the arc, worth the wait.
