The Fallout

Hiruzen was gravely wounded — his left arm had been torn off by the explosion. Kushina didn't survive the blast wave. Minato, bloodied and barely standing, had shielded their newborn son, Naruto, with the last of his strength.

The full force of the explosion had been absorbed by Root. Many ANBU units were annihilated, their bodies lost in the inferno. Only four teams survived, spared by their proximity to the village's underground shelters. Civilian casualties were minimal… but still too many. Too many lives lost before they could even reach safety.

And Danzō? He was nowhere to be found.

Minato, bleeding from nearly every part of his body, cradled Naruto in his arms as he limped toward the immense form of the Nine-Tailed Fox. The beast lay collapsed in the rubble, seemingly unconscious, its enormous maw twisted into something like a death-grimace.

Had Minato known the creature was faking, he might have died from sheer fury.

There was no time to question, no energy to waste. Jiraiya's prophecy still echoed in his mind — he had to ensure the future of the shinobi world. There was no other choice.

With the last reserves of his chakra, he performed the Eight Trigrams Sealing Technique, imprisoning the Nine-Tails within Naruto's tiny body.

He looked down at his now-unconscious child one final time and whispered:

"Naruto… your father greets you…"

And with that, the Fourth Hokage died.

The sealing worked — perhaps too well. But something was wrong.

Minato had not split the Kyūbi's Yin and Yang chakra. He hadn't sealed a portion of himself or Kushina into Naruto. The divide never occurred.

But Elias didn't notice.

He'd never read the manga. Never watched the anime. Never cared.

For him, this was a new world — a playground of wonder and madness, where he was a cute little fox living his best life.

Inside the seal, flimsy prison bars materialized around him — they looked like they'd shatter after one good sneeze. Still looking around, Elias heard a cheerfull voice :

"NYAN~! Hehe~ nya-nya-NYAAA! Nyan nyan-nyooo~! Pyoing-pyoing! nyaggle-nyaggle Nyaaaaaan~! Oooh nyan-nyomb nyan-nado! nyem nyem KYAAA-nya-nya-nyuuuu~! NYIP NYAP! Nyan-a-nyantastic nyan, nyaaa! FWOO-NYAN! Nyan-nyan ohohoho-NYAAA! Nyanblegum nyans and nyaser nyinkles, teehee!"

It was not any random noise, it just meant that the charming Mrs.Nyan has arrived and she was as sheerlful and happy as ever. It seems she won a Bear ASMR award in an annualy held competition somewhere in the outer space.

"Oh my! Mrs.Nyan ! My warmest congratulations this is amazing! You did practice so hard for this!" 

"NYAAA~! Nyan-nyan-NYAN nyoo~! Nya-nyah-nyooo NYAN~! Nyan-nya-nyah, NYAN-nyan-nyooo! NYAHOHO~ NYAN-nyan-nya-NYAAA! Nyaa~ nyan-NYOO, nyan-nyan-NYAA~! NYAAAA-NYA! Nyan-nyoo-nyoo NYAN~! Nyan-nyan-nyuuu~! NYA-NYA, nyan-nyah-NYAN!" replied Mrs.Nyan, as ladylike and graceful as ever.

"Little fox, little fox… why not become the jail, the jailor, and the prisoner this time?"

Elias spun in place, nine tails curling around him like a ritual in motion. His face contorted into a grotesque grin.

"Marjory Stewart-Baxter, darling, are you seeing this? What lovely decor. It's like IKEA made a BDSM dungeon for spirits. I adore the aesthetic. Minimalist trauma."

Another voice, smooth and theatrical, responded from a different dirrection:

"Oh my, Mr. Marrow, what a wonderful place indeed ! Marjory what a fantastic idea!" said Hubert Cumberdale, striking a very romantic pose. It was easy to know it was Hubert Cumberdale, it was written on his cowboy hat in blue neon letters.

"Yes… yes… I'll become the cell, the key, the jailer... the whispered threat beneath the lullaby. Let them think they own me. Let them sleep tight, dreaming their little dreams... while I'm weaving symphonies of teeth."

He pressed a paw to the bars and began funneling red chakra slowly, subtly, expertly into the sealwork. The chakra fused with the structure like wine soaking into silk. Every now and then Mrs.Nyan sheered with some heart warming words!

"Make it art," a fourth voice murmured.

"Make it home." it continued.

"Make it a time bomb."it exclaimed!

He sang softly as he worked:

"Twinkle twinkle little star...

Snap your neck and raise the bar...

When the sealing fails some day...

Who's the one they'll curse and slay?"

He giggled.

He wept.

He exhaled slowly, eyes wide, as the final threads of his corruption stitched themselves deep into the prison.

And then he slumped. Motionless. Playing dead. No one would know.