Eternal Yujin
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TCoH—Chapter 3.26 [49]
🕑 Added 2024-12-08 22:52:28 +0000 UTC- - -
Chapter 3.26 [49]
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Anger wasn’t new to him when it came to Neji. Lee had worked through most of it over the past year, and things had gotten better between them because of it. Neji, for all his unyielding beliefs about inescapable fate, had softened. He treated Lee with more respect as the gap in their abilities began to shrink, even indulging in their rivalry from time to time.
And yet, there were days when Neji would show up to training in one of those moods—his irritation dragged in from the Hyuuga compound, no doubt. That’s when the scoffing at hard work would begin, only for Gai-sensei to step in and cut it short. The first time it happened, Lee realised with a pang that he hadn’t let go of his anger after all.
But until he watched Neji beat Hinata to a pulp without so much as a twitch on his face, he hadn’t realised how far gone his rival was.
There wasn’t a single thing Lee could do about Neji’s grievances with the Hyuuga, nor did he want to. He’d be spitting on Hinata’s hard work if he did. No, Lee had a score to settle with Neji; he might remain angry with the Hyuuga clan for the rest of his life, but by the time Lee was done with him, Neji would know the meaning of hard work.
The announcer stood tall between them, removing the senbon in his mouth and raising an arm. “Let the first match of the second round: Neji Hyuuga vs Rock Lee, begin!”
Silence fell and Lee steeled himself. This would be nothing like his fight with Shuji of the Waterfall. Against someone who didn’t know what to expect from him, his attacks had a far easier time finding purchase.
Neji stood waiting, open hands outstretched. Lee sat down, ignoring the juddering grumbles descending into the arena from above. He removed the weights around his ankles, and when his shoes were back on, threw them at Neji one after the other.
Neji pivoted as the first weight slipped him by, sailing across the arena before gravity commanded it down with a crash. Lee hurled the second, racing in its shadow. He saw Neji shift again, only to be blasted away. Course-correcting in mid-air, Lee fell in a crouch to avoid the second set of weights before it too broke the earth beneath it.
“I wasn’t expecting anything less,” said Lee, smiling despite the unseen influences charging their match.
His rival sneered. “First Lady Hinata and now you. Seems I’ll finally be able to disabuse you of your delusions.”
“You can try.”
Neji glided in to take the initiative, but Lee was already in range. His foot lashed out in a wide arc, the impact sounding out like the crack of a whip. Neji parried the kick with a sharp, two-handed block, so Lee pressed forward with another kick. His lead foot swept toward Neji’s ankle, but he leapt over it with practised ease, twisting mid-air to deliver a kick aimed at Lee’s exposed side.
Lee spun with it, absorbing the momentum into a flip that brought him back to his feet. He surged forward, throwing a flurry of punches aimed at Neji’s chest, his head, his ribs—fast enough that Neji needed to backpedal to keep up. He weaved through the blows like water slipping through cracks; his hands flowed calmly despite the speed of Lee’s blows, redirecting and blocking each attack.
Lee narrowly avoided each counter jab, feeling the whisper of air as Neji’s fingertips brushed past. Every strike Neji threw was aimed at clusters of nerves or tenketsu to shut down his chakra system. Lee wouldn’t be giving him the chance to. He twisted his body, ducked low, and shot upward with a rising punch aimed at Neji’s chin.
Neji blocked with his forearm, the force of the blow skidding him back across the arena. His sandals scraped against the cracked earth where Lee’s weights had shattered the ground moments earlier. Neji’s eyes narrowed. Lee charged ahead, zigzagging to stay out of sight. Neji tracked him, his Byakugan flaring as he pivoted just in time to block a leaping kick.
Their collision was a sharp crack in the air. Lee spun on his heel, using the momentum to drive his knee upward toward Neji’s ribs. The blow didn’t land clean but was enough to make Neji wince for the briefest second.
Lee saw his chance—a slip in Neji’s stance—and he wasn’t going to let it go to waste. Neji’s feet flew out from under him, and Lee lined up a punch to drive him into the ground. But Neji twisted mid-fall, one hand planting on the earth as his other swept upward in a sharp arc. A burst of chakra sent Lee skidding backwards, his arms crossed to shield his face from the blast.
Dust kicked up in a wide circle, shrouding Neji for a moment. When the fallout settled, Neji stood in the centre of a shallow crater, his pale eyes locked onto Lee’s. “Is this all your hard work amounts to, Lee? A few fast strikes and desperate flails?”
“Our fight has only just begun, Neji.” Lee wiped a trickle of sweat from his brow and grinned, though his breathing had quickened.
Lee dashed forward again, ignoring the burn in his legs. He could feel the burning flare in his chest at Neji’s derision. He wouldn’t have been so angry if not for Neji’s match in the first round, so he smothered it. Anger wouldn’t help him win a fight against Neji, who was already turning to meet him head-on.
Feinting with his left, Lee snapped his right foot to Neji’s side. He twisted, bringing an arm down to block as Lee had predicted. The moment their limbs connected, Lee used the rebound to whip his other leg toward Neji’s shoulder. He barely missed his mark because Neji tilted back, but the proximity gave Lee what he needed.
When his feet touched down, he struck with an elbow aimed straight at Neji’s retreating torso. The blow should have landed. Instead, Lee felt the telltale resistance of a chakra shield.
His eyes widened; Neji’s smirk deepened.
“Too slow,” Neji said.
The blurring coalescence of chakra against his elbow preventing his strike was all the warning Lee had before Neji’s palm thrust into his shoulder. A second struck Lee’s forearm before he completely yanked it back, and then another slammed into his chest, sending a wave of numbness through him.
Lee leapt away, landing awkwardly—and much closer to Neji than he intended—as the sensation spread. He shook out his arm, trying to force it back into motion, but his fingers refused to curl into a proper fist.
Neji leaned in and exhaled, his face slack. “Eight Trigrams: Sixty-Four Palms.”
Lee’s blood ran cold. He barely managed to twist out of the way of the first few, but Neji was fast. He’d been training just as hard as Lee and had no compunctions about learning non-Hyuuga techniques—and it showed.
Palm after palm hit their mark: his thigh, his shoulder, his ribs, his stomach. Each attack carried a jolt of chakra that deadened the pathways it touched, cutting off his energy flow bit by bit. But between those, he had to bite down through the feel of Neji’s calloused knuckles slamming into him when he least expected it.
Lee forced himself to focus. He ducked, weaved, and jumped, twisting his body in ways that would have been impossible for anyone else.
Neji’s hands found him anyway, closed fist strikes mixed with the Eight Trigrams, as heavy as they were punishing. Lee could feel the access to his chakra dim with each strike he failed to avoid. The final blow landed on Lee’s chest, sending him sprawling. His back hit the ground hard. The air rushed from his lungs; he gasped, trying to force himself up, but his limbs were heavier than any weight he’d ever trained with.
“You rely on brute force and speed,” Neji said, stepping closer. “But neither will save you from fate. No amount of hard work can close the gap between us, Lee.”
His breath came in short, ragged bursts. Neji’s words cut through the haze assaulting. Hard work was all Lee had ever relied on; all he’d ever believed in. Lee grit his teeth and pushed himself upright.
“H-How sure are you of that?” When he opened his eyes, he grinned at the rush of chakra flooding his body in a large enough wave to reopen his tenketsu. The chakra freed through the opening of the first gate fuelled him. The numbness in his limbs faded, replaced by a burning heat. “I told you,” Lee said, his voice steady despite the strain. “This is only the beginning.”
Lee was faster than ever. The ground cracked beneath his feet as he slammed to a stop in front of Neji. For the first time, Neji stumbled, and all it took from Lee was a well-placed kick to knock him off balance.
He opened the second gate. A rush of power coursed through him, sharpening his senses and lighting his muscles on fire. Lee didn’t hesitate. Neji moved to block, but Lee’s fist broke through his guard, driving him across the arena.
Lee followed up immediately, his strikes faster, heavier. A kick hit Neji’s side, spinning him a few metres left. Before Neji could regain balance, Lee was already there, a quick jab landing on his shoulder. Neji managed to recover, his chakra bursting outward in a desperate wave. Lee jumped back just in time, watching the blast scatter the dirt around them.
“You can’t keep up,” Lee said. He wasn’t mocking, just stating what they both knew.
Neji didn’t respond. Instead, he rushed forward, his hands glowing with chakra. Lee ducked under the first strike and spun behind him, delivering a sharp kick that sent Neji sailing towards the far wall. When he swayed to his feet, he looked unsteady, his breaths coming fast.
Lee waited. He could feel the strain of the Gates creeping in—his legs were heavy, his arms starting to shake—but he pushed it aside. Neji came at him fast, but Lee could react at the very last moment, bypassing his rival’s eyes. He watched the feint to his right and responded with a sharp kick to Neji’s left, ribs crunching under his shin.
He hit the ground hard and stayed there.
Pale eyes looked up at him from a position that he found so familiar. He should have felt joy—but all Lee was aware of was a muted yet somehow overflowing sense of pity. “You can’t win, Neji.”
“I-I lost… to you?” Neji said between pain-filled breaths. His flagging tone was jagged and plagued by disbelief. Lee bent down and offered his hand, but Neji didn’t take it, staring ahead listlessly.
“If you don’t believe in hard work, why go this far, Neji?” He asked, standing tall and nodding at the proctor. “I think this match is over, sir.”
Proctor Shiranui nodded, removing the senbon from his mouth. “Winner: Rock Lee!”
———————————
With fewer participants than anticipated, the first round of fights passed by rather seamlessly. Accounting for the changes to the matches, the second-round participants were me, Choji, Sasuke, Lee, Gaara, and Neji—though he had just lost to Lee in the first match of the second round. That earned Lee a ticket to finals that would never come, leaving Choji, Sasuke, Gaara, and myself to mix things up in the meantime.
I looked down at the arena from on high while waiting for the next pair to arrive.
“Nervous?” Asuma asked.
“A little,” I replied, realising it had been a while since he and I had been alone. It almost made me miss our one-on-one training sessions. “You?”
He shrugged. “Not particularly. I didn’t enter you three to win this thing. This game is about experience; the more I can expose you to without the massive risk that comes from real combat, the better.”
“But isn’t this real combat? Sure, the Chunin Exams are for our allies, but we’ve been allowed to kill each other since the second stage. Hinata’s in a pretty bad way, you know.”
“So?” Asuma asked, puffing on a cigarette. “It’s a hell of a lot better than running into Stone shinobi during a war, with the nearest hospital that will treat us literally two borders away. I doubt that Neji Hyuuga would have truly killed her. Not with the way that clan’s affairs go. We’ll visit her once you and Choji’s part in this tournament come to an end.”
“...Point acknowledged,” I replied with a wry smile. “Ideally, I’d like a few years before I run into anyone from the Hidden Stone.”
“Smart,” he replied, snorting.
Down below, Proctor Shiranui walked into view, with Sasuke and Choji trailing behind him. I followed Choji with my eyes. He didn’t look as nervous as I thought he’d be considering who he was fighting—though he’d developed a heck of a poker face over the years, so maybe he was shitting bricks behind the taut set of his jaw.
Asuma hummed. “Fun fact: that proctor down there was part of your old man’s guard platoon—they were pretty famous too. People called them the Thunder Squad once they learned the Flying Thunder God Jutsu.”
“Really?” Raking my eyes across to the bandana-wearing man, I squinted to get a better look at his face. It didn’t help much.
“Yup; Genma Shiranui—the proctor—Raido Nanashi, my old teammate, and Iwashi Tatami, a jonin who’s currently in the general forces. Ran a mission with him a couple of years back.”
“...Now that I think about it, I feel like he’s been paying more attention to me than a regular proctor,” I said. “Like he was looking for something in my face. You reckon he knows who I am?”
“I think all of them do,” he replied. “But my old man stopped anyone who knew from telling you, remember? Not much they could do.”
I frowned, but only for a moment. Past grievances aside, Lord Third and I were pretty close these days. Not that I’d look back on my childhood with much fondness, though. I was going to ask a few more questions but decided otherwise when the crowd’s rumbling plummeted in anticipation of the coming match. A good chunk of them had come to see the Last Uchiha throw down.
Most of the nobles were gambling on Sasuke’s matches too.
Proctor Shiranui raised his arm. “The second match of the second round: Sasuke Uchiha vs Choji Akimichi, begin!”
Sasuke shot forward. Choji stood firm, his fingers weaving through a series of seals before he brought his hands down. The ground beneath him shifted and then broke. A barrier of thick, compacted mud surged upward and hardened, cutting Sasuke’s advance short—only for a moment.
He skidded to a halt just before the wall and leapt back, forming his own seals faster than ever. An exhaled torrent of blue-tinged flames smashed into the wall with explosive force. Shards of scorched earth flew in every direction and the thick smoke obscured the battlefield.
The instant Sasuke’s attack connected, Choji moved, escaping the smoke. He planted his hands against the ground. The earth juddered, cracks splintering back into the smoke. Sasuke pierced through the top of the dust cover, followed by jagged spires racing after him. Sasuke twisted to avoid the sharp, angled points, but the manoeuvre left him momentarily open.
Choji moved deceptively quickly, swinging his enlarged arm in a powerful arc. It smashed into Sasuke, who threw up his guard only for the blow to send him flying. Choji twisted away, planting his feet with remarkable agility, and brought his hands together again.
The ground cracked, buckled, and surged upward into a solid barrier, blocking Sasuke’s follow-up and his vision.
Sasuke stopped just short of advancing. His hands flashed into a new set of seals, and with a sharp exhale, a cluster of smaller flames burst from his mouth, each one spiralling toward the defensive structure. The fireballs struck the wall in rapid succession, cracking it, and he blew it apart with a final fireball as tall as the wall.
Sasuke darted forward. Choji slammed a flat hand to the ground. Cracks raced forward, though nothing emerged. Instead, Choji’s arm expanded, growing larger in an instant, and his massive fist shot out. Slipping beneath the blow, Sasuke, clambered atop the massive arm, leapt, and smashed an axe kick against Choji’s hastily raised forearm.
The enlarged limbs saved Choji from falling to the ground, and he used it to spring back, shrinking it to regular size. Sasuke looked primed to dart in, but before Choji’s feet could probably settle, he erected yet another mud wall.
Sasuke remained still this time. The air around him shifted, a sharp crackle filling the arena as blue sparks began to dance across his hand. The chakra grew brighter, condensing, with a piercing screech that echoed clearly. He shot forward, his arm trailing crackling lightning.
The mud wall in his path offered no resistance, shattering as he tore through it with the electrified force of his strike. Choji barely had time to move before the attack connected. Instead of drilling through him as it did the wall, the electricity danced from Sasuke’s open hand, enveloping Choji in its sizzling embrace.
The arena fell silent, save for the faint hum of dissipating electricity. Sasuke straightened, his Sharingan still glowing faintly as he looked up at the stands, and then fell to his downed opponent.
Choji lay still, his chest heaving and eyes half-lidded.
The proctor stepped forward, his voice breaking the stillness. “Winner: Sasuke Uchiha!”
The crowd erupted, their cheers reverberating through the arena, but my focus remained on Choji, following him as the medics took him out on a stretcher.
I looked at Asuma.
“Go,” he said, “and bring him to me when you’re done, alright?”
I nodded.
“Work your magic with this next match of yours, alright? I’ve got 37,000 ryo riding on you beating Gaara of the Sand.”
“Seriously?” I asked; it seemed like the kind of thing he would do, but I couldn't be sure.
Asuma snorted. “No, I’m just messing with you—but you’d better win, alright? Gai’s mini-me got a free pass to the finals. If you win this next match, you’ll fight Sasuke. The winner between the two of you will face Lee in the finals.”
“So, what? Your good name’s on the line?” I said, smirking.
“Gai and Kakashi’s genin have both passed the second round… if you lose, Gai will use this as an excuse to bring me with him on hellish training. And I quote, “The student is only as good as the master, my friends!”
“Just for that, I might throw my match on purpose,” I replied, walking off.
“I’m serious!” he called after me, but I ignored him.
They wouldn’t let me see Choji immediately, so I sat outside his waiting area for a couple of minutes, heading in as soon as the medical ninja walked out. He was awake, which was good considering my match was about to start in a little under fifteen minutes.
“How are you holding up?” I asked, closing the door behind me.
He was sitting on the bed shoved against a wall. Between us was a desk and chair, with a clock hung opposite the door. Choji looked none the worse for wear, all things considered, but melancholy seeped out of him like sludge.
“I tried to come before your negative self-talk started,” I said, pulling the chair out to face him. “Because just for the record: you fought well. Obscured his vision, took advantage of your reach, didn’t get too greedy and ended up on the receiving end of a nasty counter.”
“I could’ve fought more offensively,” Choji muttered, his voice raw and choked-sounding. He refused to look up.
I shook my head. “Would’ve been a bad decision, in my opinion. He’d have countered you easily with his Sharingan. Doubly so if you used the Fireball Jutsu. He’s been able to do that one for years; I think he would have recognised your hand seals instantly and hit you with something stronger. Then, you’d have to take your attack plus his own.”
“...No, I wouldn’t have.”
He looked at me, eyes bloodshot and slightly puffy. I frowned, wondering if he was still in denial, but that idea of that was so uncharacteristic that it left me confused. He reached into the pocket of his pelt vest and held up a rectangular box holding three pills: one red, one yellow, and one green.
“If I took these, I would’ve beaten Sasuke,” he said, stowing the box away. “I didn’t… because I… I-I was afraid. Afraid of dying—because that’s what the pills would’ve done if I took them. Or brought me close to it. The first alone leaves you dangerously emaciated. My pa gave me the pills when he found out Asuma-sensei entered us into the exams… I knew I wouldn’t use them, though.”
I remained quiet, afraid that anything I said would force the words back inside him where he’d be free to beat himself up all he wanted.
“B-Because I’m a… a coward.” He was sniffling now, breaking off his tirade to swallow a hiccup. “I watched Hinata fight a-and thought that I could stake my life… but I couldn’t. I realised why… this loss to Sasuke helped me realise why.” He looked up, and I could see realisation there—along with heartbreak and a tremendous amount of loathing. “I’m afraid to die!”
His shoulders heaved up and down. I waited for the tears to subside for a few seconds and then waited to meet my eyes until he didn’t.
“You’re not a coward,” I said, interrupted by the beaten sound of protest tearing from his lips. “No, you’re not. Being afraid of death is natural—if you think Hinata wanted to when she fought Neji, then you’re wrong. Dying and risking death aren’t the same thing. She found something she believed in enough to die.”
“...And I don’t have that, because—”
“You have it.” I smiled, getting up from the chair. “You’re always risking your life. Who’s the one throwing themselves in the line of fire first without ever thinking of running off?”
Choji shook his head. “I-It’s not the same.” He swallowed, wiping his face. “Killing people, dying, protecting you and Hinata… it’s all a mess. I don’t want to kill people, but I don’t want to die… and I don’t feel that thing you and Hinata do that pushes you so far. If that’s not me being a coward, what is?”
“You’ve already found it. Wanting to protect your friends is reason enough to stake your life,” I said. “Because to tell you the truth, Choji, it’s why I push myself so far in the first place.”
I closed the door after that, hopeful that he wouldn’t be spending an eternity wallowing in there, but popped my head back in a second afterwards.
“What?” Choji asked, blinking.
I smiled tightly. “Asuma wants to see you by the way. Wipe your face and get up there—otherwise, you’ll miss my fight.”
He smiled, following me out of the room. We parted ways at the tunnel, Choji taking the stairs up, while I walked alone, the crowd’s impatient bellowing growing until it deafened me.
———————————
Hiruzen didn’t return to the Kage-only box after his conversation with Naruto. He discreetly left the arena, flanked by his ANBU guard while his guard platoon remained with the Fourth Kazekage. If what he’d learned was true, Orochimaru intended to use the Reanimation Jutsu to resurrect Minato and Kushina—the village’s most beloved—and wield them against the Leaf.
Despite his ambitions to become the so-called ultimate being, Orochimaru knew nothing of the Reaper Death Seal, and so was unaware that summoning Minato to this world was impossible.
The same, however, could not be said about Kushina.
Even during her days in the main shinobi force, Kushina was not known for her abilities as a Jinchuriki. Her identity as such was a secret not many were privy to. Kushina Uzumaki, the adopted daughter of Mito Uzumaki, and the Jinchuriki of the Nine-Tailed Fox were two separate people.
Were she to be reanimated, Hiruzen would have to fight a shinobi capable of sealing chakra and erecting barriers—to mention nothing of her arsenal of high-rank Water-Release ninjutsu. And so, he had a dilemma on his hands, along with a choice to make in the here and now.
That dilemma came in the form of a man, bound, blindfolded, and gagged before him in the centre of a complex set of script. Its general purpose was clear as day; after all, this wasn’t the first time he’d used it. Quite futilely, he’d hoped his first time would be his last but fate—or his wayward pupil—had found a way to test his moral fibre once again.
The man groaned through an old fabric gag, dark and damp around his mouth. “L-Lor… Ho… age?”
Hiruzen sighed. Necessity had brought him here, or so he tried to tell himself. This man was slated for execution a week after the tournament’s end, but were he to remove his blindfold, Hiruzen would no doubt see his plea to live seven days longer.
His sandals scuffed against the cool stone floor as he paced while his ANBU guards remained silent at their posts. They would not judge him, nor would they question his orders. Their loyalty was absolute; but loyalty, Hiruzen knew, was no salve for guilt.
His decision wasn’t merely about Orochimaru’s schemes, though they loomed large over his thoughts. It wasn’t simply about the threat therein, nor of the exams he had left to come here. Rather, his mind strayed to Naruto, whose blue eyes had searched his own with cautious hope just earlier.
“I must do this,” he murmured. One of the ANBU at the other end of the hall shifted slightly, perhaps surprised at the unbidden declaration. Hiruzen ignored the movement and let his gaze fall on the bound man once more.
The condemned criminal was a traitor, his crimes ranging from theft to human trafficking. His execution had been assured long before the dilemma had crossed Hiruzen’s mind. Yet, looking at him now, Hiruzen couldn’t escape the haunting realisation that he was about to rob this man of his last days of life—not for justice, but for necessity.
Would he be thanked for what he was about to do? Or would he be loathed as he sometimes loathed himself? He crouched by the edge of the array, careful not to disturb the cooling ink, and studied the man once more.
His life was forfeit the moment he betrayed the village. If he could serve some purpose, even in death, then perhaps that was for the best. The script at his feet seemed to pulse in time with his wavering heartbeat.
Hiruzen took a deep breath, steadying himself, and rose to his full height. The weight of his years bore down on him, yet he refused to let it bow his shoulders.
He had made his choice.
“Neko,” he said, addressing one of the ANBU without turning to face them. “Ensure the perimeter is secure. No one nears this chamber until I say otherwise.”
The masked shinobi nodded and vanished into the shadows with a whisper of movement. Hiruzen stepped into the array, a few dulled crimson hairs clutched tightly in his hand. He looked down at the man, who was now trembling violently, his muffled protests growing louder.
“...Forgive me,” he said.
He knelt and began to weave the hand seals. Each motion was heavy, as though the weight of his choice resisted every movement. His fingers ached, but he pressed on. The room grew cold with entropy, the air thickened with chaos, and the jutsu’s power stirred.
Shredded fragments of paper erupted from the glowing array, enveloping the gagged man. His screams were swallowed in the storm and his form was nothing but a vague blur of motion as the seals began their grim work.
Hiruzen’s jaw tightened. There was no stopping now. He fixed his gaze on the papers swirling in violent arcs, refusing to blink. Witnessing the man’s final moments unflinchingly was the least he could do. All the while, the light from the array pulsed brighter, casting jagged shadows on the walls.
The man’s struggles weakened. Soon, there was only silence. The papers shifted again, folding inward with precision and binding themselves into a new form. Hiruzen forced himself to breathe steadily as the vague silhouette of a woman began to take shape. Crimson hair spilled free first, bright even in the dim light of the chamber. It framed a face as pale as death—one that was unmistakably familiar.
The resemblance both warmed and stopped his heart—like looking at a memory made flesh. Her closed eyes might have passed for someone in deep sleep if not for the unnatural tension in her features betraying the truth. Papers fluttered to the ground like spent leaves, leaving the chamber eerily quiet.
Hiruzen straightened, his hands lowering to his sides.
Then her eyes snapped wide, dark where they should have been white. Two violet pupils found him, dispassionate. Hiruzen’s breath hitched, though he quickly masked it with a slow exhale.
“Do you… do you know who I am?” he asked.
Her head turned, stiff and mechanical. Glowing eyes found him, and for a long moment, there was nothing within—no life, only a blank, otherworldly awareness.
Recognition flickered like the first spark of a fire.
“...Lord Third?” Her voice was raw, hoarse from the unnatural resurrection. Her lips barely moved as she spoke, as though each word was a struggle. “Why...?”
The question struck him harder than he anticipated. He clasped his hands behind his back, his expression hardening. “Because there was no other choice.”
“No other choice?” Her gaze sharpened, the faintest glint of anger sparking to life. “You desecrated my soul... for what? For necessity?”
Hiruzen hesitated, the silence pressing down on him. As if the chamber itself judged him. “If I hadn’t, Orochimaru would have… only to turn you against the village and everyone in it.” Her lips tightened, but she said nothing. “Orochimaru doesn’t know that Minato’s soul is bound to the Reaper,” Hiruzen continued. “But you are a different matter. If he brought you back, it wouldn’t be to save the village. It would be to destroy it. He’s already tried to sway Naruto to his side by offering to bring the two of you back.”
Their eyes met and where he expected to see sadness, he only found worry and a deep sadness.
“Naruto refused, I presume?” she asked at last, her voice quieter, almost trembling. “Does he know what you’ve done here?”
“No,” Hiruzen said firmly.
“Good.” Her shoulders slumped, and the faint flicker of fire in her eyes dimmed. She closed her hands into fists. Her knuckles pale against the artificial pallor of her skin. “You’ve thought this through just enough to get here, haven’t you?”
Hiruzen’s silence was answer enough.
“What happens next?” she asked, her voice sharp again. “You’ve brought me back to stop Orochimaru from doing so instead. Fine. But after that? What do you do with me?”
Hiruzen hesitated. His shoulders sagged, his posture betraying the weight he carried. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “You go back, I suppose. I summoned you to help protect the Leaf—but to also protect you from killing hundreds of innocents. For as long as your soul can stay in this world, you may do as you wish. Just know that I can only promise I’ve done what I believe is right for the village and all who call it home.”
“Right,” she said, her voice bitter. “For the village.” But then her expression softened. “If Naruto is at risk…” Her voice steadied. “I’ll fight. Not for you. Not for the Leaf. Minato may have died as Hokage, but I died as a mother.”
“That’s all I have any right to ask for.” Besides himself, his lips twitched as nostalgia whispered to him.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Hiruzen watched her closely as he pondered over the next steps. He had no illusions that this was over—if anything, the hardest part had only just begun.
“What do you need me to do in the here and now?” Kushina asked finally, her voice steady despite the lingering bitterness.
“For now, I want you to observe,” he said, and offered a dark robe, long-sleeved, flowing, and hooded along with an ANBU mask. “Wear this and return with me. I have quite a pleasant surprise for you.”
Kushina stared at the robe for a long moment. She snatched it from his hands, inspecting the fabric as though it might bite. “A pleasant surprise, he says,” she muttered under her breath. “After all this, I’ll believe that when I see it.”
She turned the mask over in her hands. Her fingers brushed over the smooth porcelain surface and slid it over her head, followed by the hood. When they emerged into the open air, Kushina faltered, her gaze immediately drawn up. “What I’d give to feel the sun again,” she murmured, driving an unforgivingly icy spike through Hiruzen’s heart. “...I wonder how long it’s been."
“Thirteen years,” Hiruzen said quietly.
She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Everything… it all looks so different.”
“Some things remain,” Hiruzen said quietly, silently regretful. “And others, we rebuild.”
Kushina strode on, quickly adjusting to the habits of his ANBU guard until he couldn’t tell them apart at first glance.
There would be consequences for what he had done—of that, he had no doubt. But for now, there was only the fragile alliance between the living and the dead, bound by a shared purpose and an unspoken understanding of sacrifice.
Hiruzen prayed it would be enough to prevent the incoming tragedy.
———————————
Despite instructing Hiruzen not to tell Naruto she was resurrected, Kushina wanted nothing more than to rush down and meet her son. She knew what it felt like to lose her parents, and while she’d found a second mother in Lady Mito, the pain followed her till the end until her son was orphaned just like her.
No, he’d be better off not knowing what he’d lost in clarity, she decided, as much as the idea filled her with guilt. He would suffer, both as a Jinchuriki and an orphan, but he would suffer less not meeting her for the fleeting moment that she’d walk this earth for. That, however, was easier said than done, and even now she boiled with anger towards Hiruzen for resurrecting her in the first place.
…Even if it was necessary. She almost couldn’t bear to stand guard in the Kage-only box once she discovered he was competing in the Chunin Promotion Exam.
Chunin promotion exams were nowhere near this established when she was alive. There were talks of such a thing, and Minato was certainly working towards the idea, but it was no more than a pipe dream. Perhaps that was because she grew up in the eerie lull between two wars; back in her day, children were promoted on the battlefield, or they died.
Those promoted in the internal exams were, generally speaking, a looked down upon minority. Kushina herself didn’t partake, but there was a casual dismissal towards peers who were promoted as the war neared its end. Minato being a one-man army had significantly lowered the need to ship out fresh genin to the battlefront.
Genin were still kept in reserve just in case, which was where a skill-based promotion exam came in. Looking around, Kushina saw the forehead protectors of many neighbouring villages. Some they’d gone to war with, others were reluctant allies, and yet all were here, along with their country’s nobility.
That alone said enough about the current state of things.
She stood behind the two throne-like chairs, hidden thanks to Jiraiya’s Transparency Jutsu, looking onto the arena down below from the best possible view. The last match saw an Akimichi child lose to Sasuke Uchiha. Kushina hadn’t recognised him at first, but with nothing better to do than stand and watch, her memories sparked to life.
Sasuke Uchiha was the very newborn Mikoto had shown her, swaddled between two blankets, during her own pregnancy. There was no way Mikoto would miss such an important event in her son’s life, but she couldn’t see her in the crowd. Or any Uchiha for that matter. Genma had introduced him as the “Last Uchiha”, which meant that Mikoto was gone too, as were most of the Uchiha.
The feeling of being out of place only intensified further, yet was now tinged with more sadness. Not that she could ask Hiruzen what had happened, even as the questions began to pile up.
Mikoto’s son ended the match with Kakashi’s version of the Rasengan—though he’d made a futile effort to have her call it the Chidori for years after the fact. She’d have to go and look for Kakashi at some point.
With nothing to occupy her, Kushina couldn’t help but wonder what else was different. The world had moved on—as it should have—after her death. Kakashi was probably a fully grown man now. Had he moved on from their deaths? Kushina hoped he had, but knew that he probably hadn’t with a reluctance that nearly made her sigh.
That boy always had a penchant for self-flagellation, despite her efforts to wring it out of him. Hopefully, Maito Gai was around to knock some sense into him. He was a bit full-on, but Kushina liked that—and Kakashi could do with more of it.
The smile easing across her face vanished as a sudden chill ripped through her. A deep sense of wrongness. For whatever purpose it remained, her presence here was wrong. A sin against the fundamental laws that governed the world. Something within her was starting to give and she could feel it.
Like the call of blissful sleep, slowly draping its arms around her.
“And for the final match of the second round,” Genma called, looking a lot more put-together than the lazy teenager he’d been when she knew him, “I summon Gaara of the Sand and Naruto Uzumaki to the arena. The winner between these two will fight Sasuke Uchiha for the chance to face Rock Lee in the finals!”
The crowd’s excited roar surged like a tidal wave. It rose and fell from left to right, picking up at the end. Kushina’s chest tightened as the name hit her like a hammer—rooting her into place before she could drift away.
That was her son; her baby boy—or teenager, she supposed. She strained against the Transparency Jutsu’s restraint, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. She couldn’t tear her eyes from the arena. Her gaze flicked between the two tunnels at either end of the arena until she saw blond hair.
The longer hair tied neatly at his nape aside, he looked so much like Minato at that age that it stole her breath and broke her heart. Even now, her husband was damned to an eternity of suffering, all for their son’s sake.
Naruto’s stance was loose but deliberate. His shoulders squared against Gaara’s eerie stillness, but there was something else in the way he moved—something that was all hers. A fire. A stubborn determination.
Her throat tightened.
And then there was the other boy. Gaara of the Sand, a red-haired, hollow-eyed child. Kushina’s instincts flared, sharp and immediate at the sight of his opponent. She didn’t need to know Gaara’s story to see the danger he posed. It wasn’t just his gourd or the creeping wave of sand that shifted unnaturally with each step—it was the murderousness in that gaze.
He smiled when he saw Naruto.
Kushina’s hands itched to grab her son and pull him back. To tell him to take this fight seriously, or rattle off a laundry list of advice, but she could do nothing. She was a phantom here; an observer bound by the unnatural tether of her reanimation.
“Begin!” Genma declared, snapping the tension in the air like a whip.
The air between Naruto and Gaara crackled with an invisible current charging the arena. Kushina leaned forward instinctively. The first move was swift. A single shadow clone appeared in a puff of smoke, sprinting wide to the left while Naruto himself darted to the right. Gaara’s sand responded like a living thing, coiling and unfurling in waves to track both movements.
The clone leapt high, forming seals in mid-air. A surge of water erupted from its mouth to cascade in a heavy sheet over Gaara’s sand. The liquid spread rapidly, darkening the grains and slowing their fluid movements.
Naruto’s real body closed in, and with a single seal, a blade-thin gust of wind shot forward, slicing through the falling water before it expanded. The stationary liquid churned, becoming a frothing torrent that spilled over Gaara’s defensive cocoon once more. The sand quivered under the pressure, its once-smooth flow sluggish and uneven.
Kushina’s heart thundered in her chest. Her son’s coordination with the clone was seamless. Gaara remained unfazed. The second clone sprang forward, releasing another surge of water to reinforce the first. Naruto darted in close and launched a volley of kunai to probe Gaara’s defences.
The sand moved sluggishly, catching two, but a third slipped through, nicking the gourd on Gaara’s back. The audience stirred, murmurs rippling through the stands. Kushina barely noticed. Her focus was fixed entirely on her son and the way he manoeuvred with a calm confidence. Another gust of wind spiralled in, scattering droplets across the arena floor and slicking the surface.
All the while, the sand’s weight was taking its toll.
Kushina could see it now: the tiny delays, the moments where Gaara’s overwhelming guard lagged just enough to expose cracks in his defence. Naruto dispelled the clone with a sharp gesture, the energy rippling back to him. He stumbled for half a second and his hand brushed his temple as though fighting off dizziness.
It took her all not to yell out advice. He recovered quickly, surging forward with a burst of chakra-infused speed that left Kushina breathless. His body blurred as he slipped through Gaara’s sand as though it were molasses.
A heavy strike connected with Gaara’s side, and the boy staggered, his sand armour cracking under the pressure. Naruto didn’t stop. A second strike shattered the brittle layer of protection, followed by a rain of others. Chunks of wet sand drifted to the ground. Before Gaara could react, Naruto pivoted, blitzing behind him to slam a palm into Gaara’s back.
All the wet sand writhing around them slumped to the ground, lifeless. The arena fell silent for a heartbeat, the tension thick enough to choke. Kushina’s heart swelled with pride and relief.
And then it shattered.
The world warmed around her while the roar of the crowd muffled, their figures blurring into unrecognisable shapes.
Kushina snarled under her breath and pushed chakra to her senses, dispelling the illusion with a sharp jolt. The moment her vision cleared, her gaze snapped to the smoke bomb sailing through the air, seconds away from exploding.
She didn’t think—she moved. With a flick of her wrist, she caught the device in mid-air, tossing it upwards just as it detonated. Smoke erupted in a blinding cloud and an equally deafening burst, shrouding the arena in chaos.
The crowd erupted into a cacophony of screams and confusion. Figures darted through the smoke—shadows, indistinct but swift. Kushina’s stomach dropped as she realised this wasn’t part of the exam.
This was why Hiruzen had summoned her—but she couldn’t care less, dispelling the Transparency Jutsu. The other ANBU crowded around Hiruzen, abandoning all stealth as what seemed to be an invasion began.
“Get out of there!” she whispered harshly, her maternal instincts screaming louder than any logic, but her voice was swallowed by the chaos, and Naruto—her Naruto—was still standing in the centre of the storm, his head snapping around to assess the new threats despite the red-haired one right in front of him.
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Comments
Xardas2995
Forgot to ask in my other comment, but what happened to Tenten and Shino? Did I gloss over a paragraph? Also is Kushina not surprised that Orochimaru is an Enemy of Konoha? Did he not desert After her death? Or does she just not care?
Xardas2995
Color me surprised. I thought Hiruzen could try his own edo tensei to counter Orochimaru, but I did not think he would actually do this or that he would summon Kushina. The meeting between mother and son will be awesome, heartwarming and sad at the same time. This is such an awesome twist! I love seeing Naruto’s fight with Gaara from Kushinas POV. She is such a mother hen. Unless Oto and Suna have more powerful forces available here I think there invasion is already cooked. Assuming that Hiruzen can contain Orochimaru and his edo tensei summons. I doubt they have anything available to deal with an S rank edo tensei. The fights between the contestants were nice. I know many readers want a big showdown between Naruto and Gaara, but the way Gaara got rushed here makes sense in my opinion and it is a great showing of what the SIs skills actually mean. Having one dimensional skill sets can really bite you in the butt. So did he take Gaara out completely? If not Kushinas chakra chains are around now. I know we discussed the SIs current level at length already, but this chapter got me wondering about the SIs speed since even Kushina was impressed by it. Also thank you for introducing the Thunder squad to Naruto. I hope we see some nice interaction with them after the SIs promotion.
