Chapter 3: Of Harpies, Horrors, and Heroic Head Pats
(In which Naruto receives a feathered friendship token, inherits monster juice, and realizes his babysitter has a guilt complex the size of a mountain.)
Olympus was quiet.
Too quiet.
Which, of course, meant something catastrophic was about to happen.
Hephaestus didn't walk into Aphrodite's palace so much as lumber, like a guilt-ridden tank with emotional baggage. His forge-hardened feet echoed on the marble floors, each step booming like a war drum that had seen better, less dramatic days. His shoulders hunched with weariness, and his wild copper beard was singed at the tips—either from some forge-fire mishap or, more likely, stress.
The palace of love was the opposite of him in every way: luminous, perfumed, decadent, and faintly playing a harp melody that practically whispered, "Have a seat, darling. Cry it out." But Hephaestus had no tears. Just desperation... and a really bad feeling in his gut.
Aphrodite sat on a floating loveseat that sparkled with pink mist and smelled like roses had a baby with a thousand-dollar perfume bottle. She was sipping ambrosia and humming to herself, wrapped in a silk robe made of literal moonlight. Then her eyes met Hephaestus's, and the amusement vanished.
That never happened. She usually looked at him like he was a dented frying pan.
So yeah. Bad sign.
"Hephaestus?" she said, her voice silken, suspicious, and just a touch curious. "You look like you forged a volcano and then crawled into it."
He didn't smile. Not even a smirk. "Aphrodite," he said, voice shaking. "I beg you to accept my request."
The Immortal raised an elegant eyebrow, setting her glass down mid-sip. "Beg? Darling, you don't beg. You brood. You scowl. You hammer things until they feel sorry for you."
He dropped to one knee.
That got her attention.
"I know I have not loved you," he said, molten gold eyes burning with sorrow, "and you have not loved me. But this is not about us. It's about the children—ours, yours. All of them."
Aphrodite's lips parted slightly. Her palace dimmed, as if even the walls wanted to hear what came next.
"He's gone mad," Hephaestus whispered. "Zeus. He's... he's forcing me to build things. Monstrosities. Machines that twist nature and death. Weapons even the Titans would run from. And he's going to use them. On them. The children."
Aphrodite's expression wavered. Gone was the smug Immortal of scandal and flirtation. Now, she was something older, deeper. The primal love that forged bonds before time itself had names.
"He would not dare," she said, voice low and sharp.
"He already has," Hephaestus replied. "Please. You have power. Influence. You can hide them. Get them away. Before it's too late."
For a heartbeat, nothing moved. Then Aphrodite rose, radiance blooming from her like sunlight breaking through a storm cloud.
"You have never been a man of hearts," she said quietly. "But today... you've earned mine. At least a sliver." She closed her eyes. "I will help."
She raised her hands, calling forth the magic of love—not the soft, mushy kind, but the iron-clad force that made Immortals fall and empires crumble. The air shimmered, her aura blazing—
CLANK.
Chains burst from the marble floor like snakes. Divine runes flared to life. Before Aphrodite could blink, celestial manacles snapped around her wrists and ankles, anchoring her in place with a cruel hiss.
"Oh, come on," she growled.
And then...
"You've been naughty, my children."
The voice slithered through the room like thunder draped in silk.
The air warped. Light bent.
And there he was.
Zeus.
Tall, radiant, and smug enough to power a city block on ego alone. His white robes glowed like freshly bleached clouds. Lightning crackled in his eyes, but his smile was warm—fatherly, even.
Which somehow made it worse.
"Did you think," he said, strolling in like he owned the universe (because, technically, he thought he did), "that I wouldn't notice two of my dear Olympians conspiring behind my back?"
"Zeus," Aphrodite hissed, struggling against the chains. "You dare to bind me?"
He chuckled, and even that sounded like a storm pretending to be polite.
"My sweet. My spark. My little Immortaldess of love," Zeus said softly. "Have you ever fought? Truly fought? I have bled for Olympus. I've trained while the rest of you lounged and made love and threw banquets. I built myself for this moment."
Aphrodite's eyes blazed. "You think you can conquer love with lightning bolts and flexing?"
"I think I already have," Zeus said, raising a hand.
A sigil lit beneath her feet—a shimmering, ancient rune pulsing with raw power. Aphrodite screamed, not in pain, but in furious disbelief, as her energy was siphoned into the chains.
Hephaestus tried to move forward, but he too was shackled by golden cuffs that appeared mid-step.
"You prepared to enslave your family?" she spat.
"I am prepared to restore order."
With a wave of his hand, a glowing seal burned into the floor beneath Aphrodite. Hephaestus recognized it instantly. His breath caught.
"The Seal of Immortals," he whispered. "Zeus... you didn't..."
"Oh, I did," Zeus said smugly. "Forged from Prometheus's last breath, blessed by Nyx herself. Cost me an eye. But worth it, wouldn't you say?"
Zeus turned away, voice suddenly calm. "Olympus is sealed. No one leaves. No one disobeys. Until this matter is resolved... enjoy your stay."
With that, he vanished. The throne room was quiet, except for the hum of power and the faint creak of chains.
Silence.
Then... laughter.
Aphrodite laughed.
It was bitter, wild, and just a bit impressed. "Well. That escalated."
"I'm sorry," Hephaestus murmured. "This isn't what I wanted."
"I know," she said, exhaling slowly. "Still. Locked up together. Just like our marriage, huh?"
Hephaestus offered a weak chuckle.
"We've been through worse," Aphrodite said, her voice softer now. "Maybe this time, we'll actually talk."
"Maybe," he said.
------------------------
If there was one thing Naruto had learned since arriving in this strange, myth-soaked world, it was this: never assume the glowing flower-fairy on your shoulder hasn't committed war crimes.
The forest around them was unusually still. Not ominous-still—more like "the world's holding its breath because someone's about to drop some big revelations" kind of still. The kind of quiet that made squirrels peek out from treetops and whisper, "Dang, did she really say that?"
Naruto, as usual, handled it with his trademark tact.
"You know," he said casually, brushing a twig off his shoulder, "I've also uncovered the darker things you've done."
His voice wasn't cold, or judgmental. Just... curious. Like someone hearing a bedtime story with a surprise horror twist and still wanting to know how it ends. Gaia hovered a few inches from his face, her tiny dirt-and-petal wings fluttering like wilting leaves caught in the wind.
She didn't flinch. But the way her gaze dimmed, like clouds rolling over a sunbeam, said everything.
"I knew you'd find out," she whispered, her voice smaller than her frame. "I wanted to tell you myself. But speaking of one's own sins... it's not easy. Especially when you were once worshipped as a Immortal of life."
Naruto raised an eyebrow. "So why do it? Why... anything?"
Gaia sighed, floating back to his shoulder like a dandelion seed riding the wind. Her eyes, a swirling mixture of soil-brown and moss-green, stared at something far beyond the woods. "Because love, Naruto," she said. "Because anger. Because when those you create—your children—start tearing each other apart with fangs and flame, it changes you. You want to stop it. Then punish it. Then—" Her voice cracked. "Then you become it."
The silence returned, thicker now. The forest leaned in closer. A pair of startled raccoons froze mid-scavenge, sensing something heavy had just been said.
Gaia turned away slightly, her tone quieter than the rustle of leaves. "I hurt the world I was meant to protect. I let the rot fester, thinking I could cleanse it through pain. When I realized the truth, it was too late. We were all... bound."
Naruto looked puzzled. "Bound? Like sealed?"
"Worse," she murmured. "Cursed. By a being older than even I can comprehend. Something from the first heartbeat of this world—before Immortals, before myths. It feared us. So it shackled us. Now I live in fragments. Powerless."
There was a beat of silence. Then, with the kind of courage that only comes from deep, immortal insecurity, she asked:
"Does my presence disgust you?"
Naruto blinked.
Then, very slowly, a smile crept across his face—warm, human, and impossibly kind. "Nope," he said, like he was answering the world's simplest question. "You've changed. And that's good enough for me."
Gaia just... stared at him. Like he'd said the most profound thing in the cosmos.
"You mean that?" she whispered.
"Every word," he said, resuming his walk. "I've done things I regret, too. Stuff I'd rather forget. But I'd be a pretty big hypocrite if I held yours over your head."
For a moment, the air felt lighter. A breeze stirred the leaves. Somewhere in the distance, birds started singing again—like the forest itself had exhaled.
Perched on his shoulder, Gaia smiled, a fragile thing blooming on her earthen lips. "Thank you, Naruto. You may not realize it, but that kindness? It means more than you know."
Naruto just chuckled and adjusted the collar of his jacket. "Yeah, well... don't expect a hug. You're made of mud, and I just washed this."
Gaia laughed, a pure, ringing sound that sent a few startled butterflies into flight. Even Ella, hidden behind a vine-draped branch, tilted her head, watching them with wide-eyed curiosity.
----------------------------
If you'd asked Naruto that morning how his day was going to go, he might've guessed something tame. Maybe a trip to the corner store. Maybe he'd try pizza again, or lose another round of console games. You know, normal stuff.
He definitely wouldn't have guessed:
An ancient Earth Immortal admitting to millennia of family drama,
A harpy attempting to court him (or maybe not?),
And a magical power boost from a dead demi-child.
But that's just how Mondays go sometimes.
"You're welcome," Naruto said, his voice calm and warm—but his eyes narrowed a second later, scanning the horizon like a hawk who just smelled incoming trouble. "We've got company."
Gaia flitted nervously by his ear like a woodland conscience. "Already?"
Naruto didn't answer. He simply turned into a narrow alleyway, his footsteps quiet on the cracked pavement.
Standing there like she'd been waiting all morning was Ella, the red-haired harpy with the wide, intelligent eyes and the flustered demeanor of someone who accidentally walked into the wrong classroom but decided to own it.
"Ella?" Naruto asked gently. "What's going on?"
She didn't speak—just tilted her head and extended a single crimson feather toward him, like she was offering the most sacred gift in the universe. Maybe she was. Naruto blinked, looking between the feather and the harpy.
"Uh… Is she… courting me?" he asked, baffled but trying to be polite. "Or… is this a 'just friends' kind of feather?"
Gaia chuckled behind him. "Relax, child. Among harpies, this is a token of trust. She wants to be your friend."
"Oh!" Naruto grinned. "Well, I accept! Thanks, Ella!"
Ella chirped—a soft, melodic sound that somehow said I'm glad you're not a jerk—then rubbed her head against his chest with innocent affection. Naruto laughed, ruffling her feathers gently like she was some magical puppy with wings. Which, to be fair, wasn't far off.
But the warmth of the moment quickly shifted when Gaia's tone dropped.
"Be careful with her," she warned softly.
Naruto looked down. "Why? You just said it's safe."
"For now," Gaia said. "But things are… shifting. The gates of the Underworld have been opened. Any monster that dies can now walk free again."
Naruto tensed, instincts already flaring. "Let me guess—this is another one of your kids?"
Gaia hesitated. "Yes. Another of my many regrets. They are… not like you. If they learn what you are, they will see you as a threat. Or worse—a target."
Naruto sighed, his voice softer than usual. "Then they'll learn the hard way." He reached up and poked Gaia gently on the head with one finger, smiling. "But don't be sad. I've got this."
The ancient Immortal, who could literally shake mountains when she sneezed, blushed. Blushed. She looked like a squirrel caught hoarding cookies. "Okay…" she murmured.
Then she blinked. "Oh! I nearly forgot. The demi-child of Neptune—the one you... killed—"
"Hey, he started it."
"Right. Well, I retrieved something from him. His immortal fragment. A sliver of power only passed on through defeat." She held out a glowing orb of light that shimmered like sunlit seawater. "If you take it, you'll grow stronger. But it comes with a choice. To keep going… you'd have to keep doing this. Taking power from others. Monsters. DemiImmortals. It's irreversible."
Naruto didn't flinch. He reached out and took the orb, letting it pulse against his palm. He swallowed it in one smooth motion—because honestly, it wasn't the weirdest thing he'd eaten that week.
Power flooded him. Not like a lightning bolt, but more like a warm tide rising through his limbs, reshaping his bones and essence. His skin prickled, and his breath came steadier, deeper. When he opened his eyes again, they gleamed with something ancient—and dangerously calm.
"I feel stronger," he said. "But I'm not becoming a hunter. If someone tries to kill me, fine. I'll use what I must. But I won't go looking for it."
Gaia exhaled in relief, like a mom realizing her son wasn't turning into the villain of the family reunion. "You really are too kind."
--------------------------
Naruto wasn't used to compliments—not the honest kind that didn't come from villagers trying to suck up or comrades too tired to lie properly. So when Gaia, the literal embodiment of nature's grace, gave him a smile that could make roses bloom in midwinter, Naruto did the only thing his awkward teenage heart could manage.
He blushed.
"Thanks," he whispered, a touch of crimson painting his cheeks. He scratched his cheek nervously, suddenly aware of how his shirt felt a size too tight and his hair probably looked like he'd been struck by lightning. (Which, to be fair, had happened once. He never forgave Sasuke for that training session.)
Gaia's glowing form hovered gracefully near his shoulder, watching him with eyes that had probably seen the rise and fall of civilizations—but right now, they twinkled like she was holding back a laugh. She didn't speak, just let the moment linger between them like a petal floating on the wind. And somehow, that made it worse. Or better. He couldn't decide.
Before he did something truly embarrassing—like trip over his own feet or confess his eternal gratitude like a dramatic anime character—Naruto cleared his throat and turned his attention to the nearest life form that wouldn't make his brain melt.
Ella.
The tiny red-winged girl flitted just ahead of him, her delicate form a streak of color against the dull city backdrop. She looked like a crayon drawing come to life—beautiful, a little chaotic, and in desperate need of a good meal.
"Well," Naruto said, shaking off the butterflies in his chest, "let's go, Ella. Our long journey together starts now." He offered a grin that could've lit up Konoha's streetlamps for a week.
Ella let out a cheerful squeak, wings fluttering with excited energy. She zigzagged in the air like a drunken fairy on espresso. Naruto couldn't help but chuckle, but his smile faltered when he noticed how thin she really was. The bones in her wings were too pronounced. Every flap looked like it cost her effort she couldn't afford to lose.
He frowned. "Gaia," he said, glancing toward his shoulder passenger, "can you do that energy transfer thing for Ella too? She looks… well, like she's one gust of wind away from being a feather duster."
Gaia giggled—an actual giggle. Like warm sunlight wrapped in sound. "I was expecting you to ask that. Hehe, yes, it can be done."
Naruto's expression turned sheepish. "Am I that predictable?"
Gaia smiled. "It's not a bad thing. When people can tell you mean well, it makes them trust you more."
He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes on the cobbled street beneath his sandals. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense. But… does that mean I'll have to go monster-hunting now? You know, feed Ella the old-fashioned way?"
"Would you?" Gaia tilted her head, curious. "If it's to help her?"
Naruto stopped walking. It wasn't a dramatic pause—no lightning cracked overhead, no wind blew ominously—but there was a weight to that silence, like the world was waiting to hear what he'd say.
He looked ahead, his blue eyes steady. "If we come across dangerous ones, I'll do what's necessary to protect us. And when that happens, you can prepare some energy for Ella."
Gaia's expression softened, like a mother watching her child take their first step. "No problem, my child. I'll ensure she's taken care of."
Naruto smiled—this time, fully, freely. Not the grin of a kid covering up pain or the mask of a shinobi trying to look brave. Just… joy. Real, rare, and as golden as the afternoon sunlight breaking through the city's clouds.
"Thanks," he said, and he meant it in a dozen ways he didn't know how to say.
Ella chirped from above, catching his mood like a tuning fork. She twirled in the air, her red feathers catching the light in bursts of scarlet and gold. She landed gently on Naruto's other shoulder, curled up like a kitten made of feathers, and let out a tiny sigh of contentment.