Chapter 89 – The Threads That Whisper
The path was not a road.
It was a thought.
Each step Naruto took, the world shaped itself beneath him.Stone became grass.Grass became sand.Sand became mist.
He walked for hours. Or maybe days.
No hunger.
No thirst.
Only questions.
His mind was stitched with gaps.
Names floated in his chest like half-burned paper.
Sakura.Sasuke.Kakashi.Mom…?
Each one echoed faintly—unfinished.
But when he tried to remember their faces—
Only thread came.
Then he found the well.
It rose from the mist like an ancient bone.
Circular. Black stone.Water inside as still as glass.
Naruto approached.
Looked down.
His reflection was there.
Barefoot.
Thirteen.
Eyes confused.
But beside it—Another face.
An older one.
Eyes cracked with light.
A broken Sharingan in one eye.A glowing kanji in the other.
名.
His heart jumped.
That wasn't a reflection.
That was a memory.
And it watched him.
He leaned closer.
The face spoke.
Soundless.
"You are what's left."
Naruto whispered, "Left of what?"
No answer.
Only ripples.
Then—
A voice behind him.
Soft. Familiar.
"You always did ask the dumb questions last."
Naruto spun.
A boy leaned on a crooked tree.
Black shirt.
Dark eyes.
No headband.
Sasuke.
But younger.
Calmer.
Different.
Naruto took a step back. "Who are you?"
Sasuke shrugged. "That depends."
"You still Naruto?"
"I… think so."
"Then I'm still Sasuke."
Naruto narrowed his eyes. "This some genjutsu?"
Sasuke smiled faintly. "Worse."
He reached down.
Lifted a stone from the mist.
Tossed it into the well.
It sank without a sound.
Then—
A scream.
Not from above.
From below.
Naruto's head snapped back.
In the water, something twisted.Red threads.A cradle.A name that tried to scream.
Menma.
Sasuke didn't move.
"He's not gone."
"Neither are you."
"You're just… not finished."
Naruto felt the needle in his hand twitch.
A thread floated from his chest.
Faint. Flickering.
Sasuke stared at it.
Then at Naruto.
"You still think you're a hero?"
Naruto was quiet.
Then—
"No."
"I think I'm a hole."
Sasuke nodded.
"That's better."
He turned.
Started walking into the mist.
Didn't say goodbye.
Just vanished.
Naruto stared at the well.
The water was gone.
Only threads now.
Soaked red.Wrapped around bones.Some his.Some not.
He turned.
And saw—
A stair.
Leading down.
Carved from paper.
Lit by whispers.
He stepped on it.
It didn't break.
He walked down.
And as he did—
Voices came.
From above.
From behind.
From within.
Every step—one voice clearer.
Sakura."…Naruto, don't you dare—!"Kiba."…he burned himself to fix me…"Kakashi."…you chose this…"Kushina."…my little boy… even if you weren't meant to be…"Minato."…you became more."
He didn't cry.
He couldn't.
The threads had already taken his tears.
But the needle in his hand pulsed.
Glowed.
Then whispered.
"You are the Weave's last hope."
"Stitch the wound, or let the world bleed forever."
And in the dark below—
A light flickered.
A loom made of bones.
Spinning.
Waiting.
Not for thread.
Not for names.
But for choice.
—End of Chapter 89—