Chapter no.75 Naruto

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Chapter no.75 Naruto's Kekkei Genkai

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Sakura stirred awake as she felt a gentle shake on her shoulder. Her eyes fluttered open, her body groggy and heavy from sleep. For a moment, she didn't recognize where she was, but the sight of her desk cluttered with papers brought everything rushing back.

Oh no, she muttered, sitting upright with a start. Her hands flew to the stack of homework in front of her, flipping through the pages frantically. Please don't tell me I drooled on it...

She examined the top page, sighing in relief when everything looked intact. No embarrassing stains.

"Everything okay?" her mother's soft voice came from beside her. Sakura turned to see Mebuki standing there, a warm smile on her face and a tray in her hands. It held a glass of milk and an egg sandwich, neatly prepared.

"Yeah," Sakura said, fixing her disheveled hair as best as she could. "I just... fell asleep while doing homework. I still need to finish this."

"Well, first, eat something," Mebuki said gently, placing the tray down on Sakura's desk. "You can't think straight on an empty stomach."

"Thanks, Mom," Sakura murmured, reaching for the sandwich. As Mebuki started to leave, Sakura hesitated. Something about the moment made her chest tighten, and before she knew it, the words came out.

"Mom... I'm sorry."

Mebuki paused. "For what, sweetie?"

"For... not taking you seriously before," Sakura said quietly, her voice wavering. She looked down at her desk, embarrassed but needing to get it out. "I used to think you were just being pushy, trying to turn me into someone I'm not. But... now I get it. You just wanted what's best for me. And... thank you."

For a moment, Mebuki said nothing, and Sakura wondered if she had said the wrong thing. But then her mother's face softened, her smile full of warmth. She knelt beside Sakura and placed a gentle hand on her daughter's cheek.

"Oh, my sweet Sakura," Mebuki said, her voice brimming with love. "You don't need to apologize for the past. I've always been proud of you. I just wanted you to see the amazing person you are—and now you do. That's all a mother could ask for."

Sakura blinked rapidly, fighting the unexpected sting of tears. "Still... I'm trying harder now. I want to make you proud."

"You already do, honey," Mebuki said, brushing a strand of hair behind Sakura's ear. "But I am glad Kakashi-sensei is helping you. He must be a good teacher."

"He is," Sakura said, taking a bite of her sandwich and chewing thoughtfully. "He's strict, but in a good way. He makes me feel like I'm actually getting better."

Mebuki smiled brightly. "You should invite him to dinner sometime. Your whole team, actually. I'd love to meet them."

Sakura froze mid-bite, her mind racing. The idea of her chaotic team sitting at their dining table was... overwhelming. Not to mention, they weren't exactly the closest yet.

"I don't know about that, Mom," she said hesitantly, setting the sandwich down. "We've only been a team for, like, a few days. It's still... new."

The beginnings of a playful grin formed on Mebuki's face.

"Oh, I get it now."

"What do you mean?"

"You want to get to know that boy first... what was his name? Sasuke, right? You want to make sure he's ready to meet us before you bring him home."

"Mom!" Sakura's face turned crimson as she grabbed a nearby pillow and hurled it at her mother, who laughed and caught it easily.

"Alright, alright, I'm just kidding!" Mebuki said. "But the offer still stands. Whenever you're ready, invite your team over. I'll make the best meal. I've got to impress my future son-in-law, after all."

"Mom!" Sakura groaned, burying her face in her hands.

Mebuki giggled, leaning down to kiss the top of her daughter's head. "I'm just teasing, sweetie. Now finish your homework and come downstairs. I'm making your favorite: syrup-coated anko dumplings."

Sakura peeked out from behind her hands, unable to stop a small smile from forming. "Thanks, Mom."

"Anytime," Mebuki said, ruffling Sakura's hair before heading downstairs.

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It was lunchtime, and Sakura found herself perched on the edge of the border wall, nervously clutching her bento as Iwashi carefully examined the scrolls she had handed him. Each one contained her best attempts at basic fuinjutsu seals, written in painstakingly deliberate calligraphy. Over the last four days, she had poured every spare moment into practicing and perfecting these seals, staying up late and waking up early. But even now, with Iwashi silently scrutinizing her work, she couldn't stop the nervous flutter in her chest.

"Do you know how many kanji a beginner fuinjutsu user needs to memorize and master?"

"Three thousand five hundred."

Iwashi nodded, still scanning the scrolls. "And why are the four tones in your calligraphy so important? Explain them."

Sakura took a deep breath. Iwashi had a habit of throwing these questions at her during reviews, forcing her to refresh what she'd learned in her mind. She was grateful for it—mostly.

"Fuinjutsu is as much a language as it is a battle art," she began. "The four tones are subtle indicators of intent that the writer embeds into the kanji. They determine how the seal interacts with chakra and the environment. The tones are: heibun—a steady, neutral kanji; joukyuu—a rising, questioning kanji; kaiten—a dipping and rising kanji used for transitions; and shiji—a commanding kanji for directives or activation. Changing even one tone can destabilize or completely ruin the fuinjutsu matrix."

Iwashi gave her a brief, approving nod but didn't look up. He turned to another scroll, quietly inspecting her work. Sakura kept her eyes on him, trying to gauge his reaction, but his expression gave nothing away.

"What exactly is a fuinjutsu matrix?"

Sakura's mind whirred as she straightened her posture, ready to recite the knowledge she'd memorized. "A fuinjutsu matrix is made up of three parts," she began. "The first part is the central kanji, called the shukaku-fuin—'core seal.' This kanji represents the main purpose of the seal, written in the common language." She paused for a moment to make sure she had her facts right before continuing. "Surrounding the shukaku-fuin is a circle of secondary kanji known as the kaname-fuin—'keystone seals.' These provide support to the core seal, anchoring it and controlling how it functions. Finally, there's the outermost layer, called the kekkai-fuin—'barrier seals.' These regulate the seal's boundaries and prevent the energy from leaking or disrupting the environment. Together, these three layers make up a complete fuinjutsu matrix."

Iwashi's hand paused for the briefest moment before rolling the scroll closed and moving on to the next one. "Not bad," he murmured.

Sakura's chest swelled with pride for half a second before he hit her with another question.

"How does fuinjutsu actually work?" he asked, setting the scroll aside and finally glancing at her, his sharp gaze boring into her.

Sakura swallowed and straightened. This was easier, at least. "Fuinjutsu works similarly to ninjutsu in that it relies on chakra and shape manipulation," she explained, her voice growing more confident. "But unlike ninjutsu, which requires the user to actively weave chakra through their own body, a fuinjutsu matrix acts as an external machine. The seals act like gears in a clock, converting and directing chakra with almost perfect efficiency. That's why seals can last for years or even decades after being created—they don't require constant chakra input from a shinobi."

Iwashi raised an eyebrow, silently prompting her to continue.

"Of course," Sakura added, "the downside is that fuinjutsu matrices become more complex the more they're required to do. The more intricate the chakra manipulations, the bigger and more complicated the seal needs to be. And even one mistake—a misplaced kanji, an incorrect tone—can cause the entire thing to fail."

Iwashi's expression remained unreadable, but the faintest flicker of approval flashed in his eyes. "Good," he said simply. "You've clearly done your homework."

Sakura let out a small breath of relief.

"The average shinobi takes about a month to master these basics," he said bluntly. "You managed it in four days."

Sakura blinked. Was that a compliment? It sure didn't sound like one. "Thank you, sensei," she said cautiously, trying to gauge his tone.

"Don't thank me yet. I can also see you've been skipping sleep. And overeating to make up for it."

Sakura's jaw dropped. "H-How…?"

Iwashi raised an eyebrow. "You're not exactly subtle, Haruno. It's written all over you. The dark circles under your eyes, your unbalanced chakra flow, the faint bloating from eating too much too quickly…"

Sakura clenched her fists and looked down, a faint blush of embarrassment creeping up her neck. "I have to push myself," she muttered. "Team 7 won't be stuck doing D-rank missions forever. If I don't work harder now, I'll fall behind Naruto and Sasuke."

Iwashi let out a slow exhale, shaking his head. "You're rushing it. Overworking yourself isn't the same as working hard. All you're doing is setting yourself up to crash."

The words stung, but deep down, Sakura knew he was right. She bit her lip, staring at the ground.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" Iwashi continued, his voice sharp but steady. "What are you trying to prove? That you're perfect? That you don't need help?"

Sakura didn't answer, too ashamed to meet his eyes.

After a moment, Iwashi sighed and snapped his fingers. "Sakura. Look at me."

Reluctantly, she did. His expression wasn't harsh or judgmental—just calm and focused.

"What am I here for?"

"To… to teach me," she replied, her voice small.

"Exactly. So why are you beating yourself up? You're not supposed to have all the answers. You're here to learn. You've got a teacher—use him."

Something in his words clicked, and Sakura felt the tension in her shoulders ease just a little. "You're right, sensei. I'm sorry."

"Good. Apology accepted. Now, here's your first real lesson: stop sabotaging yourself. Get a proper night's sleep. Eat properly. And pace yourself. You're not going to become a jōnin overnight."

Sakura hesitated, then gave a small nod. "Yes, sensei. I'll do better."

"Good," Iwashi said simply. "In fact, here's your assignment for tomorrow: come up with a balanced diet plan that you can actually stick to. Write it down, and I'll grade it."

Sakura sweatdropped. "You're… grading my diet?"

Iwashi shrugged. "Of course. You're a shinobi, not a civilian. Your food is your fuel. Get it wrong, and you'll burn out faster."

Sakura sighed but smiled faintly. "Alright, sensei. I'll do it."

Iwashi leaned down and pulled a scroll from his pouch, handing it to her. "Now, since you've already mastered the basics, I think it's time to teach you your first real barrier jutsu."

Sakura's eyes widened as she eagerly unrolled the scroll.

"This is a B-rank fuinjutsu," Iwashi explained. "It's called Ninja Art: Core Seal. It's a variation of the storage seal, but instead of storing objects, it absorbs chakra. Your task is to learn how to create the seal, apply it to your kunai, and charge it with your chakra. Once you've done that, you'll use the chakra strings I taught you to create a barrier."

Sakura's hands trembled slightly as she held the scroll, her excitement barely contained. "Yes, sensei! I'll get started right away!"

Iwashi gave her a rare, faint smile. "Good. Let's see what you can do."

Sakura hated the feeling of chakra exhaustion. It was like her body was running on empty, leaving her sluggish, lightheaded, and irritated. As a civilian-born ninja, she'd always been aware that her chakra reserves weren't much to boast about. But her excellent control had usually compensated for that shortcoming—until now.

Filling her first core seal had been a nightmare. The seal itself was a complex circle, etched with intricate, looping patterns resembling spirals and wave-like shapes, designed to draw in and store chakra. The ink glowed faintly blue when active, but Sakura had spent hours painstakingly pouring her chakra into it, her control fine-tuned, only for the process to drain her completely.

And now, she was stuck sitting under a tree like a lifeless lump, sipping her juice, while Kakashi-sensei read his usual book. Sasuke, annoyingly unaffected by anything, was absorbed in some kind of history text, while Naruto had been spirited away to who-knows-where by one of Kakashi's clones.

"Sensei," Sakura called out, breaking the silence. "Are there any ways to recover from chakra exhaustion quickly?"

Kakashi didn't even glance up from his book. "Meditation."

"Can you guide me through it?"

He turned the page lazily but nodded. "Alright. Sit comfortably, back straight. Close your eyes. Now, breathe in slowly through your nose and exhale through your mouth. Nice and steady."

Sakura complied, her eyes closing as she began to breathe deeply. Kakashi's voice remained calm and even.

"Focus on your breath. Let it be the anchor that grounds you. Picture your chakra as a small flame inside your body, low but steady. With each breath in, imagine that flame growing brighter, stronger. With each breath out, release the tension in your body, let it flow away like smoke."

She tried to visualize it, the soft glow of chakra pulsing faintly at her center. Her exhaustion didn't disappear, but it eased, her body and mind feeling slightly more aligned.

"Better?" Kakashi asked after a few minutes.

Sakura nodded but opened her eyes, still feeling the dull ache of depletion. "It's helping a little, but… sensei, how do I make my chakra reserves bigger? So this doesn't happen so easily?"

Kakashi snapped his book shut, earning surprised glances from both her and Sasuke. He stood and pulled a kunai from his pouch, kneeling down to draw a circle in the dirt.

"Alright, let's go back to the basics," Kakashi began, the casual tone replaced with something more deliberate. "The spiritual energy of the mind and the physical energy of the body. Together, they form the energy we call chakra."

Sakura and Sasuke exchanged glances. They already knew this from the academy. Why was Kakashi repeating it?

Kakashi caught their looks and smirked under his mask. "Bear with me. This is important." He pointed to the circle he'd drawn. "Chakra flows through your body via a network called the Chakra Pathway System—or the Meridian System. Think of it like an interconnected web of rivers and streams running throughout your body."

Did he want to guide them to their answer, or was he just lazy? Sakura squinted at Kakashi, suspicious of his motives.

"Where was I going with this?" Kakashi mused aloud, tapping his chin as if he'd genuinely forgotten, though his tone carried a distinct note of amusement.

Sakura sighed, already bracing herself for some kind of roundabout question.

"Now, here's my question: Why can shinobi use chakra, while civilians can't?"

Sasuke frowned. "Because we've been trained to use it?"

Sakura thought for a moment.

"Because shinobi have more chakra than civilians?"

Kakashi's visible eye crinkled in approval. "Exactly. Civilians have chakra, too—every living thing does. But their reserves are so small, it's like trying to fill a teacup. Shinobi have larger reserves and the training to draw it out. And here's the key: chakra reserves aren't a big vault inside your body. They're the flow of energy through your meridians, through your pathways."

He drew several lines extending out from the circle, forming a branching pattern. "Think of your chakra pathways as a system of streams, brooks, and rivers. Right now, your 'streams' are narrow. But with training, you can expand them into wider, deeper rivers, allowing more chakra to flow."

"How do I do that?"

"Glad you asked," Kakashi said, standing and motioning for her to sit in the lotus position. She crossed her legs and straightened her back, her hands resting on her knees.

"First, we're going to stimulate your meridians. This will force your pathways to expand temporarily so you can feel what it's like."

Sakura blinked. "Wait, force them to expand? Is that safe?"

Kakashi waved off her concern. "Completely safe. But it'll feel… weird."

She wasn't reassured by the mischievous glint in his eye.

Kakashi knelt beside her, placing his hand gently on her upper back, just below her neck. A warm surge of his chakra began to pour into her body, flowing steadily through her chakra pathways. At first, it felt like a soft current, but as it reached deeper, spreading through her meridians, a wave of something unexpected struck her.

It wasn't physical, but it pressed down on her all the same. Her breath caught as a wave of emotions rose to the surface, overwhelming and unrecognizable. They weren't hers. At least, she didn't think they were. There was a heaviness that clawed at her, like the echo of something lost, but the loss wasn't clear. It hurt in a way she couldn't fully understand, like a shadow of grief that left her heart aching. Then, something colder slipped in—isolating, as though she stood utterly alone in an endless void.

The sensations blurred together, sharp and indistinct, twisting and tangling inside her. There was heat too—anger, maybe? But it wasn't a rage that lashed outward. No, it turned inward, biting into her like a blade. And yet, even as she tried to grasp these feelings, they shifted and slipped away like water through her fingers. She couldn't name them, couldn't parse them. They just were—fleeting and overwhelming all at once.

And then, just as quickly as they had come, the emotions dissipated. Kakashi's chakra pushed deeper into her pathways, smoothing over the jagged edges left behind. The warmth of his chakra wrapped around her like a shield, steady and calming. She shuddered, her body relaxing as his energy continued to flow through her, pressing gently against the walls of her meridians, stretching them wider, coaxing them to expand.

"What was that?"

Kakashi was quiet for a moment, his hand never leaving her back as he continued to guide his chakra into her. When he finally spoke, his tone was soft but distant. "Sometimes, when you share chakra, you share more than energy. Memories, feelings, fragments of who you are—they can seep through. It's rare, but it happens." He paused, glancing at her. "Don't try to make sense of it now. Just focus on the exercise."

It wasn't her place to question Kakashi. He was her sensei, and his role was to teach her, to guide her. But as she sat there, feeling the weight of his presence, she couldn't help but hope that maybe, in some small way, just being here—learning from him, trusting him—might offer him something too. She didn't know what he carried, but she hoped her presence could lighten it, even just a little.

"Good. Memorize that feeling," Kakashi instructed. "Every day, I want you to sit like this and focus on expanding your meridians. Use your own chakra to mimic what I just did, bit by bit. Don't rush it—it's about consistency. Over time, this will train your body to hold more chakra naturally."

Sakura nodded again.

"But that's just one part of it," Kakashi continued. "Chakra isn't just about pathways—it's made from the energy of the mind and body. To increase your reserves, you need to strengthen both. That means keeping your body in peak condition—exercise, eat properly, and rest. And it means sharpening your mind. Meditation, mental discipline, learning new skills—all of it contributes to your chakra reserves."

He stood, brushing the dirt from his gloves. "Expand the streams, and keep the reservoir full. Do that, and you'll see results."

Kakashi let Sakura continue the chakra expansion exercise. Beside him, Sasuke sat on a rock, his Sharingan active as he observed the flow of chakra in her body with detached curiosity.

"It's so slow."

"It's supposed to be slow, Sasuke," Kakashi replied. "Expanding your reserves naturally takes time. Years. Decades, even."

"How long will it take Sakura to reach my level?"

"If she works hard? A year. Maybe a bit more."

Sasuke crossed his arms. "What about you? How long did it take you to get to where you are now?"

"A decade," Kakashi answered casually, turning a page in Icha Icha.

"What about Naruto?" he added sarcastically.

Kakashi lowered his book slightly and frowned, actually doing the mental math in his head. "Hmm. A century."

Sasuke blinked, thinking he'd misheard. "You're joking."

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

"How is that even possible? Why are his reserves that massive?"

"Let's just say Naruto's one giant mystery wrapped in metal armor."

Sasuke scowled, arms crossed, the familiar irritation bubbling beneath the surface. "Chakra reserves aren't everything. I can still beat him."

Kakashi chuckled lightly, his one visible eye curving in amusement. "I admire the confidence, but you won't beat him by copying his swordsmanship."

Sasuke sighed, a touch of frustration seeping into his tone. He didn't want to admit it, but Kakashi was right. "I know," he muttered, kicking at a loose rock. "Copying physical movements with the Sharingan isn't as amazing as people think. I can mimic the moves, sure, but I don't understand the purpose behind them. Without that understanding, they're just… empty gestures."

Kakashi nodded, his eye crinkling in approval. "Exactly. The Sharingan can copy the 'how,' but without the 'why,' you're just swinging a sword without meaning. Swordsmanship isn't just about movements—it's about intent, timing, and experience. It's the same reason why not every Uchiha is called the Copy Ninja."

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. You're special."

"I try," Kakashi said with a wink, earning a huff from Sasuke.

As the tension settled, Sasuke's eyes wandered down to the book resting in his hands: The History of Fire Style Techniques. He traced the edge of the page with his finger, his mind working through the details he'd pieced together.

"Why are you reading that, by the way?"

"I'm trying to figure out exactly what Naruto's fire style is. It's weird. My Sharingan couldn't copy it at all, and that shouldn't be possible. But I think I found something."

"Oh?" Kakashi's tone shifted, intrigued. "Enlighten me."

"Scorch Release," Sasuke said, tapping the page where the term was written. "It fits. Naruto's fire jutsu doesn't rely on exhaling fire or mixing it with external oxygen. It's like he's heating the air directly around him. That's a hallmark of Scorch Release—a combination of wind and fire chakra."

Kakashi hummed thoughtfully as Sasuke's theory lingered in the air. Scorch Release. On the surface, it made sense. The way Naruto's fire jutsu behaved—the heatless bursts of flames and the compressed orbs that detonated with overwhelming force—it fit the general characteristics of Scorch Release. But there was a problem. A glaring one.

Naruto's chakra nature was wind.

Can a chakra nature test fail to detect an elemental Kekkei Genkai? Kakashi tapped his finger against the book's edge, mulling over the possibilities. In two days, he would have to deliver a report on Team 7's progress to the Third Hokage. Maybe he'd mention Sasuke's theory, even if it felt incomplete. The theory wasn't impossible. But it wasn't satisfying, either.

Because the pieces didn't fit.

Neither Minato-sensei nor Kushina had ever shown signs of Scorch Release. If Naruto had inherited it, it couldn't have come from them. Which left only one plausible source. The Kyuubi. Tailed beasts were known to grant their Jinchūriki strange abilities, after all. Unique Kekkei Genkai weren't outside the realm of possibility.

But there was still something wrong with that theory too.

Both Kushina and Mito Uzumaki had been Jinchūriki of the Nine-Tails. Neither had displayed anything like this. No enhanced fire techniques, no Scorch Release—nothing that could explain what Naruto was doing. The only difference, Kakashi realized, was that neither Kushina nor Mito had been Jinchūriki from birth.

Could that be the key?

He closed the book with a soft snap. The thought gnawed at him. Maybe the Kyuubi's influence on Naruto had been different from the start—its chakra seeping into his development, altering things at a fundamental level. But if that were true, what other changes had taken place inside the boy? Could the seal itself be affecting the way Naruto accessed his chakra? Could there be other dormant abilities waiting to surface?

If anyone had the answers, it would be the Third Hokage. Or Jiraiya-sama. If the man ever stops chasing inspiration for his novels.

Kakashi sighed, tilting his head toward the sky. The moon hung high above, casting its pale light over the village. The breeze rustled the leaves gently, carrying the cool scent of night.

Minato-sensei, Kakashi thought, you didn't just leave behind a legacy—you left behind a mystery wrapped in metal. And I'm still not sure if I should be proud or worried.

But Kakashi knew one thing for certain. Whatever lay ahead for Naruto, whether it was a Kekkei Genkai, the Kyuubi's influence, or something entirely new, he would be there to guide him. Because if there was one thing his sensei had taught him, it was that the future of Konoha didn't rest on bloodlines or power.

It rested on the bonds they forged.

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Shimura Danzo sat behind his desk, the cold air of the underground room pressing against his skin like an old companion. His fingers traced the edges of the report, Fu's handwriting precise, mechanical—just as it should be. But today, even perfection did little to calm the storm of calculation swirling within him.

The first report alone was enough to warrant concern.

Naruto Uzumaki's erratic space-time fluctuations had disrupted Danzo's carefully woven web of observation. Fu had masked them well, as expected of his most capable agent, but the mere existence of such anomalies left an unpleasant sensation crawling along Danzo's spine. Space-time ninjutsu was dangerous. Unstable. And instability was something he did not allow.

Did Naruto know about Root's surveillance? Was this a signal to an external ally or a warning aimed directly at him? Was the boy testing his response, hinting that he saw the hawk circling overhead?

Danzo ordered the immediate retraction of several agents from close observation. If this was a trap, he would not walk into it.

But it was the second report that required far deeper dissection.

Naruto created life.

Wood Release had done it before—forests surging to life under the First Hokage's will. But Fu's report wasn't speaking of vegetation or chakra constructs. No. This was something alive. Sentient.

Danzo pressed his fingers together, his gaze sharp. "Agent Fu," he said, his voice measured, slicing through the air like a blade. "Explain the events that led to this conclusion."

Fu stood rigidly before him, posture perfect, his response immediate. His words were devoid of hesitation, as they should be.

"At approximately 1300 hours Konoha standard time, I detected a significant spike in Naruto Uzumaki's chakra. Upon investigation, I found that Kakashi Hatake was testing his elemental affinity. Wind nature was confirmed."

Wind, Danzo thought. Under his guidance, Naruto could easily become a wind-style master. But for now, he remained focused on Fu's report.

"Continue."

Fu's voice remained steady, though Danzo noted the subtle shift in his breathing—shortened, controlled.

"After the nature test, Naruto relocated to a hidden area on the Hokage Monument. I observed a sudden burst of chakra far beyond typical genin output. The chakra did not manifest into any visible jutsu. Instead…" Fu hesitated, the briefest pause before continuing. "The chakra was burned away entirely. There was nothing left. No residual traces—no nature energy. Just a void."

Danzo's eyes narrowed slightly. A void that burned away chakra without leaving traces was already concerning. But there was more, and he could sense it. "And the void itself?"

"It was alive," Fu said, his voice mechanical, as if repeating something his mind could barely grasp. "Not alive in the way plants or animals are. It didn't breathe, didn't pulse like chakra constructs do. But it wasn't empty. The void was life. It carried intent. My senses perceived it as something aware—aware of me, of the surroundings. It resisted observation, like it knew it was being watched. For a few seconds, it lingered, and then…" Fu's hands were clasped behind his back, but Danzo noted the slightest tension in his posture. "It collapsed, disappearing completely."

Danzo observed him closely.

This wasn't fear of the unknown. This was recognition of something beyond comprehension.

"And the barrier?"

"It burned a hole through the barrier system. My team detected the disturbance. However, I neutralized the situation immediately. I erased their memories and destroyed all documentation related to the event."

Efficient, as expected. Danzo gave a slight nod. "But you allowed this anomaly to affect you."

Fu's expression remained blank, his response automatic. "Apologies, Lord Danzo. I will reinforce my mental conditioning and ensure it does not happen again."

"You will," Danzo said. "Because failure will not be tolerated."

"Yes, Lord Danzo." Fu bowed deeply before turning and leaving, his footsteps fading into the silence of the underground corridors.

Once the room was empty, Danzo leaned back and let his thoughts unfurl.

Naruto Uzumaki. The boy was proving to be far more than Danzo had initially calculated. He had intended to shape him—break him down and rebuild him into a perfect weapon for Konoha. But this development required immediate reassessment.

The First Hokage had altered the course of history with his ability to grow and command nature itself. But Naruto's ability to create life—life that didn't grow, but instead seemed to manifest from an unnatural genesis—was something far more dangerous. Danzo doubted the boy even understood the magnitude of what he had done.

But Danzo did.

Hiruzen would be blind to this. Trapped by sentimentality, the old fool would continue to see Naruto as a mere jinchūriki—a vessel for the Nine-Tails, nothing more. That blindness had always been Hiruzen's weakness. Danzo would act before the Third Hokage even realized what was unfolding.

What are you playing at, Uzumaki? Was this a subconscious appeal, an attempt to prove his worth to the only man in Konoha who could offer him what he sought? Or was he simply fumbling through a power far beyond his comprehension?

No matter. Danzo would provide what Hiruzen had failed to—structure, answers, and purpose.

In return, Naruto Uzumaki would become the future of this village. His power would not go to waste. Danzo would mold him into the sharpest blade Konoha had ever wielded.

Danzo allowed himself a small, calculated smile as the plan solidified in his mind.

Perhaps I should give the boy a wind jutsu. Just enough to see what he would do with it. Because when you can create life, Uzumaki, the world either bends to you—or breaks beneath your will.

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[ Personal Note: First off, thanks a ton to all of you for sticking with this story. Seriously, you guys are awesome. Now, if you're interested in supporting me on P@treon, let me just say that over there, I post these massive 5k-word chapters. But heads up, if you're jumping to P@treon, you'll need to start from Chapter 36, since that's where this chapter lines up with the content there.

To everyone here just reading along, please don't forget to leave a comment! Honestly, your comments make my day, and they let me know you're as invested in this story as I am. So yeah, thanks again, and I hope you have an amazing rest of your day!