The First Howl

Darkness presses in—thick, silent, suffocating. Then, warmth engulfs me, heavy and tight, like I'm trapped in a vice. My body feels wrong—too small, limbs sluggish, curled in on themselves. I try to move, but everything is slow, wrapped in something thick and syrupy. My head throbs, caged in a space I can't see or break through.

Then, a jolt—sharp, electric, alive. Not just a pulse. Chakra.

My thoughts reel. This can't be real. I shouldn't be here.

Flashes of memory hit me like lightning. The Ōkami's burning glare, my team falling, my final, desperate charge. Then that screen prompt, I laughed, hit YES, and figured it was some developer's joke. But now it's choking me in something too real.

Pressure slams down—squeezing, pushing, dragging me through heat and haze. I can't fight it; my limbs are useless, soft as mud. Then—cold air. It slices across my skin, brutal and raw. I try to gasp, but my lungs don't listen. A second later, I scream—a high, fragile wail that doesn't sound like me. Panic claws at me as my tiny body thrashes against nothing.

Then, voices. Sharp, urgent.

"Check his chakra," someone orders—gruff, commanding.

Something foreign probes me—not my own energy, but a rough, scraping force scanning through me like a blade. Instinct kicks in, and my chakra flares back—weak, messy, but undeniably there.

A sharp inhale. "This isn't normal."

A pause—too long, weighted.

"What's that mean?" Another voice, rough as gravel, skeptical.

The first voice hesitates, eyes flicking between the elders. "His chakra signature… three elements."

Silence crashes down like a hammer.

"Impossible" the gravelly voice snaps. "He's just a new born"

But I feel it my, affinities thrumming beneath my skin, raw and unshaped, waiting to be molded. Three elements, woven into me like muscle and bone. One is cold and sharp, rigid as tempered steel. Another runs deep, humming in my marrow, a presence that feels too natural, too ingrained to be separate from me—bone. And the last… it lingers in the air around me, unseen but undeniable, whispering at the edges of my thoughts. Yin.

The medic clears her throat. "I don't know how," she says, almost reluctant, "but look for yourself."

Feet shuffle, cloth rustles. My eyes won't focus—everything's a blur of shadows and light—but their stares burn into me. They're circling, weighing me like a threat.

"I'll be damned, his bloodline's pure too," the gravelly voice states.

The words hit me, cold and heavy. Bloodline? Like in Shinobi Online—clan traits, kekkei genkai, power tied to ancestry.

But "too pure"?

"What do you mean, 'too pure'?" a third voice murmurs.

The first speaker—a woman, maybe a medic—takes a breath,

"The Inuzuka Clan… our bloodline's been mixed, diluted over generations. We're strong, but nothing like the old days.

This kid—"

A pause, like she's trying to process it herself.

"His chakra signature's match the ancient records. Back when the founders didn't just tame wolves but ran with them."

A muttered curse.

"Founders? That's a damn bedtime story. The True Inuzuka Bloodline has been dead for centuries."

"Not dead," a voice fires back.

"Dormant. Buried. And now it's awakened in him."

Murmurs spread of shock, doubt, and unease.

"What the hell is this kid?" someone mutters, voice barely carrying.

She lifts me, and I catch glimpses of my jet-black hair and royal green eyes.

"Wait,"

A younger voice pipes up.

"Who's his mother and where's his father?"

Silence.

The woman holding me tightens her grip. When she finally speaks, her voice is flat.

"His mother was found in the wreckage, after the Nine-Tails tore through the village. We found her half-dead, giving birth right there on the spot."

A pause.

"She died minutes after he came out."

My gut twists.

The Nine-Tails attack. Konoha's nightmare—the fox rampaging, people dying by the dozens. That's when I landed. Born in the middle of hell. My mother's last breath spent on me.

"And the father?" the younger voice asks again, quieter.

A bitter shrug.

"Gone, probably. No one claimed her. No family stepped up. Just another body lost in the attack. We've got nothing,no names, no records."

It sinks in, heavy as stone. I'm an orphan. No parents. No past. Just a kid born in blood and ruin, handed off to strangers.

Just then, exhaustion drags at me, heavy, relentless. My eyelids droop, but my mind clings to one thing

Inuzuka Clan.

My start.

My anchor.