Chapter 5: Of Blades and Bonds Unsharpened
(Where weapons whisper of forgotten legacies, and a boy who walks with ghosts meets a girl of steel and silence.)
There is a moment when a man steps into the wild, not as predator, not as prey, but as something else—an intruder with a promise of violence or dominion. Most are eaten. Some are tolerated. A rare few are accepted. Rarer still are those who are crowned by tooth and claw.
Naruto was of the last sort.
They crossed the treeline with the sun dripping crimson behind them like blood on the edge of a blade. Rias walked lightly, her crimson hair catching embers of dying daylight. Lee's stance was taut, every muscle pulled like the string of a longbow. He could smell the predators. He could feel the eyes in the branches. The forest wasn't quiet—it watched.
Then came the growl. Low, guttural, and heavy enough to rattle bone.
From the brush came black-furred muscle and yellow eyes—six meters of silent, prowling judgment. The bear was a mountain wearing flesh. Its paws alone could shatter bone. Behind it, slithering with sinuous grace, came the python—its scales rippling like obsidian in moonlight, twenty meters of silent death.
And they were not alone.
A jaguar—liquid shadow with claws dipped in anticipation. An eagle, wings wide enough to blanket the sky, perched above them with a predator's patience. A centipede, grotesquely long, armored like a knight's nightmare.
The beasts had come.
Lee dropped low, fists clenched and eyes wide. "We're surrounded," he muttered. Not a question. Not fear, exactly—but a quiet calculation of death.
Naruto stepped forward, hands loose at his sides. "Relax, guys," he said, as if addressing a rowdy classroom and not a ring of apex predators. He laughed, and then—like a fool or a king—he welcomed them.
They rushed him.
Lee moved by instinct, stepping in—but Rias held him back with a firm hand.
And then he saw it.
Not a battle. A reunion.
The bear tackled Naruto with a sound like a collapsing house, its growl turning to a guttural purr. The jaguar leapt next, rubbing its face into his shoulder like a housecat that forgot its size. The eagle landed on a thick branch above and called, not with warning—but joy. The python coiled around them like a protective ring of living armor. The centipede slithered forward and clicked its mandibles in what could only be described as… relief.
"They're his pets," Rias said, voice almost reverent. "No… not pets. Pack."
It had begun at seven. Seven, when most boys are told not to play with fire or stray from the path. Naruto had done both. He had stepped off the beaten road and into the teeth of the forest. He had found the bear first, wounded and mad. He had fed it, bled with it, fought beside it. Then came the python, who tested him with hunger and wrapped around him like death—until he fed her too.
One by one, predator by predator, he had claimed them.
Not with dominance. Not with chains.
But with survival.
He had poured chakra into their wounds, their bellies, their dreams. Not like the Inuzuka, no sacred jutsu or clan techniques. Just will. Just raw presence. His essence, mingled into their breath until his scent meant kin. Meant safety. Meant war.
Lee exhaled slowly as he watched Naruto laugh with his monsters, wrestling with the bear like a sibling. The jaguar sat beside them, tail twitching in approval. The python slithered toward Rias but made no move to strike—just to inspect.
"He lived here?" Lee asked.
"Trained here. Grew here," Rias replied, her camera forgotten at her side, gaze fixed on the boy who had made the forest his cradle and crucible. "This was his world long before the academy. Before missions or Hokage."
Lee's mouth tightened. "No wonder he's strong."
He looked at the trees around them—twisted and tall, crowned in fungus and veined with poison. This was not a place for children. Not a place for anyone who wanted to live.
But Naruto had lived. And more—he had thrived.
In the silence that followed, Lee thought of his own training. Of hours spent under a master's eye, of bruises and breaks and the certainty of steps well-trodden. Naruto had forged something else—something feral. Something real.
"I would've died here," Lee admitted softly.
"You still might," Naruto called from beneath the bear's paw, laughing as it licked his head. "But not today."
-----------------------------------
The deeper they walked, the worse it got.
The trees breathed here—old and bitter, like gods left to rot. Their bark blackened with time, their roots clawed through the earth like they meant to choke the world itself. The forest didn't whisper; it listened. And in its silence, it promised nothing but endings.
This ancient wilderness, known among the wise few as the Verdant Maw, was a forgotten wound on the land's flank. The air shimmered with latent chakra, heavy as oil and thrumming like a war drum in the veins of those who dared trespass. Yet even this place—writhing with beasts shaped by time and chakra alike—was but a nursery when measured against the Forest of Death.
A forest born not from accident but will. Shodai's will.
A man who bent the world like saplings in spring built it. The First Hokage had carved that monstrous testament with mokuton—living wood that obeyed no laws but his. A wild cathedral of nightmare, where trees towered two hundred meters high and the smallest predator had jaws wide enough to bite down on dreams. Within that haven of horror, monsters breathed in rhythm with the trees. Some tall as castles. Some quiet as knives. All deadly.
Lee, for all his bravado and green-clad courage, swallowed hard.
"I don't think I can train here," he said, the forest pressing against his voice. "You must have strong poison resistance to even survive. Mine's… not that good yet."
He didn't flinch when he said it. Not out of shame. Out of understanding. This wasn't the kind of place where mistakes ended in bruises—they ended in tombstones. One wrong step and the moss would turn to acid, the butterflies to blades.
Naruto—monster-tamer, fox-child, storm-born bastard of myth—grinned.
Not kindly.
"Don't worry," he said, seated upon a bear thick as a wall and twice as mean. The beast huffed like a war drum in its chest. "I'm not dumping you here without purpose. Fight them."
Lee blinked. "Them?"
The python, twenty meters long and coiled like a promise. The eagle, all talon and glare. The centipede with eyes like molten gold. The jaguar, sleek as shadow. The bear, a mountain of hate-flesh. They encircled him like executioners in a dream.
"Keep your weights on. You're here to sharpen your instincts, not to win," Naruto continued, idly patting the bear's massive head. "I'll go see the next one—my final recruit. After that, you and I will spar again."
Lee, ever the soldier, ever the stone, nodded.
Naruto turned—but paused mid-step.
"Oh. Almost forgot." His voice turned playful, dangerous. "This section's trapped. I laid them myself when I was eight. If you trip one, try not to die."
Lee's eyes widened slightly.
Naruto smirked. "If you do bleed too much, they'll carry you to the clinic. They're registered under my name."
A lie.
Only the jaguar wore the leaf's collar, its chakra tagged and recognized.
The rest? Shadows in the system. Monsters without chains. His monsters.
--------------------------------------
The forest moved with them—leaf and wind, shadow and sun—dancing in silent testament to the tension beneath the casual pace. Rias walked beside him, her crimson hair brushing against her shoulders like drawn silk, her mind abuzz with questions that refused to die.
"Am I going to be training with them as well?" she asked, feigning ease.
Naruto didn't pause. His steps were certain, unhurried. Like a man who already knew what waited at the end of the road and didn't mind the corpses it took to get there.
"You are," he said with a smile that could've sold candy to corpses. "If you want strength, then forget comfort. Forget safety. Those belong to people who want to be ruled, not those who rise to rule. Danger is the true crucible—pain, the hammer, and death the whisper at your back that reminds you to move."
Rias blinked. She had expected bravado, perhaps some smug male posturing—the kind that always crawled out from boys playing soldier. But this wasn't posturing. This wasn't play.
This was belief.
He looked at her, same smile, same cheery tone. "And don't worry. I don't discriminate. Man, woman, noble, peasant—if you spar with me, you bleed. You break."
It should've unnerved her. It did. But more than that, it fascinated her. He said it like a promise wrapped in ribbons, a death sentence sealed with a bow. There was something in his voice—a lilt she'd heard before.
Akeno…
A chill touched her spine, not from fear, but familiarity. That same softness wrapped in knives. That same love for the flinch, the tremble, the beautiful theatre of fear. The sadist's lullaby.
But Akeno was lightning and silk, a thunderstorm in a kimono. Naruto?
Naruto was something else entirely.
He played with pain. Not for pleasure, not exactly. For reaction. For control. She realized, with slow dread, that he enjoyed being the question people couldn't answer. That he didn't just wear masks—he was one.
'I thought he was just a trickster,' Rias thought. 'Just a lonely boy playing tough. But this… this is something deeper. Something darker. He doesn't just survive hatred… he feeds on it.'
She kept her face neutral—tried to. But Naruto's eyes caught hers, reading more than she intended to show. His smile didn't fade. It grew.
He liked that she saw it. That she was smart enough to look.
Not some glass doll he'd shatter and throw away.
"I like you," he said simply. "Not in the 'let's go kiss under the moonlight' way. I like your brain. I like that it works. Most people I meet are too busy trying to shine to realize they're covered in blood."
"You're a terrifying person to like someone," Rias muttered.
He grinned. "That's what makes it worth something."
He meant it. She could tell. The same tone he used when talking to villagers who hated him. The same sunny, perfectly nice tone that never shifted. That terrified her more than rage ever could.
She remembered her brother's words. People who smile all the time are the ones to be feared.
'What about Serafall?'
'She's insane. In the cute way. Mostly.'
Rias let out a breath and stored that thought deep. Naruto wasn't insane like Serafall. His brand of madness was colder. Controlled. Patient.
The kind of madness that watched and waited and tested.
"You don't have to worry," he said lightly. "I don't hurt people I care about. I'm not a monster—just very efficient at removing problems. Cross the line, and you get the rod."
He winked, and it shouldn't have been terrifying. But somehow, it was.
Rias nodded slowly. "Understood."
Naruto turned forward again, pace steady. As if none of this had weight.
"As for your other question… tonight. After the mission. At my place. We'll talk. I have things to ask. You have things to answer."
Rias was quiet for a while, her mind spinning through observations like knives in a juggler's hands. He wasn't seducing her. Not really. He wasn't trying to be liked.
He was simply being. And that, more than anything, was what made her believe him.
There was no act to strip away.
Naruto Uzumaki was a smiling, walking test. And she wasn't sure if she'd passed… or if the real test had only just begun.
And still, despite the thorns, she couldn't help but walk beside him.
Because power like his… was addictive.
Because the truth behind the mask… was beautifully monstrous.
----------------------------------------
The Hokage's Office, for all its height and sunlit windows, had the air of a tomb.
Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Professor, God of Shinobi to some, sat behind his desk with the weight of decades bleeding from the lines on his face. His pipe was unlit for once—a rare sign. Smoke could not drown the ghosts that had gathered in the room. They came in silence, in memory, in the shape of those absent from the meeting that should have mattered more than any other.
Across from him stood a man who should have been little more than a name on a mission report—average, unremarkable. Iruka Umino, Chunin Instructor of the Academy. A man of middling strength, lesser lineage, and no great destiny written in the stars. But it was not the stars Hiruzen trusted anymore. It was the ones who stood in the dark and kept others warm.
"You called me, Lord Hokage?" Iruka asked, his posture straight but his eyes shadowed by doubt.
Hiruzen studied him—this young man whose life had been marred by war and loss. Orphaned, dismissed, and yet still standing, still teaching, still loving a boy that the village scorned. A boy no one had the courage to face. Not Jiraiya, who drank his guilt like sake and ran from the truth in the shape of his godson. Not Kakashi, whose heart had calcified beneath the mask and the pain. Not even Minato's ghost could cradle the boy he left behind.
But Iruka did.
"I did," Hiruzen said, voice low and grave, as though words were coffins he carefully lowered into earth. "Sit."
Iruka obeyed, wary but respectful.
"I want to promote you," Hiruzen said. "Not just in rank, but in purpose. Naruto is building something. A team. Bonds. A future. I believe he needs someone at his side who sees him. Truly sees him. Not as the Fourth's son. Not as the Kyuubi's jailor. But as Naruto."
Iruka's eyes widened. "I… I'm not strong enough."
"Neither was I," Hiruzen said, with a bitter smile. "When I was made Hokage the first time, I was twenty-four and afraid. Power can be trained. Wisdom can be learned. But love, Iruka… that cannot be taught. And Naruto needs that more than another jutsu."
The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken names.
Minato. Kushina. Jiraiya. Kakashi.
Shadows all.
"I want to give you a special mission. You'll undergo an accelerated training course under my guidance and others I trust. You'll be put through hell—but it will be the kind that builds, not breaks. This is no gift. This is war, and I am asking you to arm yourself for it."
Iruka lowered his gaze. He thought of Naruto. Of lonely birthdays. Of ramen shops lit by laughter that tried so hard to forget the hatred outside. Of a boy who smiled through rejection, and fought for people who feared him.
"If it means standing beside Naruto… then yes. I accept."
The Hokage smiled—not as a leader, but as a weary grandfather who'd found, at last, a sliver of hope to bury his regrets in.
"Then rise, Iruka Umino," he said. "The path of a Jounin begins with the will to walk through fire. And you, my boy, have walked through more than most."
--------------------------------
Naruto walked Konoha's streets as though the village had wronged him and every step was a reminder. His cloak whispered with the wind, a subtle hiss like teeth grinding in irritation. Rias walked beside him — red-haired and regal, her gaze tracing the alleys like a queen surveying her battlefield. She said nothing, but she watched. Always watched. With eyes that missed nothing and judged everything.
And Naruto? He was hunting. Again.
Third target.
Tenten.
He found her tucked inside the yawning mouth of the Higurashi Weapon Shop — wood-paneled, iron-bellied, and stinking of oil, steel, and soot. The shop was half shrine, half forge, and the girl inside it was the high priestess.
Tenten.
She wasn't fire like Rias or stone like Lee. No. Tenten was metal — quiet, cold, and sharp, waiting for a purpose to be hammered into her. She didn't scream ambition. She didn't flirt with destiny. She crafted it, one throw at a time.
An orphan, like him. But different.
She hadn't howled at the moon or carved her name into tree bark. She hadn't bled for approval or barked defiance at the heavens. She'd simply picked up a kunai and kept throwing it until it obeyed.
Naruto respected that.
She sat now, legs crossed behind the counter, reading a worn volume about chakra-metal alloy grades — probably for fun. Hair done in twin buns, her qi pao tight enough to move in, loose enough not to care. Not one wasted movement. Not one wasted glance.
Her smile when he entered? Real.
"Welcome to the Higurashi Weapon Shop," she said, standing like a coiled spring in polite form. "How can we help you?"
She smiled because she liked the job. Liked being useful. He could taste it in her chakra — clean, no rot, no lies.
Naruto returned the smile with something closer to a grin, teeth showing like a beast freshly fed.
"I need a wind sword," he said, voice rough as gravel, "and psychic chains. Portable ones."
There was a beat — her brow ticked up, surprised by the specificity.
"Okay," she said simply, and disappeared into the back.
Rias leaned on the counter, eyes dancing with amusement. "She's interesting," she murmured. "Not your usual storm."
Naruto didn't answer. He was already thinking in layers. Weapons. Movement. Terrain. A team. A war.
He needed the wind sword — seals etched down the blade's length, whispering to the air, slicing it, owning it. A blade that cut not just through flesh but through resistance. It turned air into an ally and silence into violence.
The psychic chains were worse — or better, depending on your nightmares. Little rings on his fingers, innocent like wedding bands. Until they screamed. Chains spilled out, metal guided by thought and will. No handles. No hesitation.
Most avoided them — too much finesse, too much madness. But Naruto had lived in madness. He had slept in it. Had it spoon-fed to him by the beasts of the wild.
He could handle chains.
He could handle anything.
----------------------------------
The mind, when bent, learns to divide. It learns to fracture without breaking, to splinter and still remain whole. Naruto's had been split so many times—by beatings, by solitude, by voices that whispered like wolves in the dark—that he no longer noticed when another piece wandered off to act without him. A hand here. A thought there. A mouth that smiled while the heart sharpened its teeth.
So he didn't mind when his hands moved independently, testing the edge of a blade, while his attention was elsewhere. He had fought beasts with ten claws and no eyes. He had worn forms not his own—furred, feathered, winged, scaled. He had slipped through the Forest of Death like water through a broken hand.
Anko had thrown him in. Not as punishment. Not quite as a test either. She was like him—wrong-shaped for the world that claimed her, wearing a grin that bared too many teeth. They called her traitor's whore behind her back. Said her veins still held Orochimaru's venom. She didn't correct them.
Naruto didn't fear her. That intrigued her. She tried her games anyway—taunts like knives, sharp smiles, and that wicked toss into the forest she called home. But Naruto, the feral fox-child, had thrived where she meant for him to crawl. He'd become a beetle, slipped under the breath of monsters, then reemerged grinning with twigs in his hair and murder in his eyes.
She'd laughed. Genuinely.
"You're either insane or suicidal, kid."
"Same difference," he'd replied.
That's how they became friends. Not with promises. With violence. With blood. With surviving each other.
Now, he stood in a weapons shop that smelled of oil and molten steel, watching a devil-girl play at curiosity.
Rias moved like royalty lost in a dragon's hoard, her eyes catching on every glint of magic-forged steel. There were swords that sang when drawn, axes that burned with the heat of captured suns, and even a bow that whispered prayers in a dead language. She lingered on one thing longer than the others—armor.
Specifically, the Bikini of the Azure Flame.
A thing more fit for sin than war.
Thin straps of enchanted silk. Plates shaped more for allure than protection. And yet, behind the seduction, it held power—elemental amplification, speed, resilience. Deception carved into steel.
Naruto saw her look and chuckled.
"That one's stupid strong. Ridiculous looking, but deadly. Don't judge gear by the skin it shows—judge it by the death it deals."
Rias didn't blush, but she looked thoughtful. "Can the Hokage wear something like that?"
Naruto laughed—a real one, hard and fast. "He's got the adamantium staff. Strongest metal we know. Breaks through chakra like butter. His armor's probably old, but still upgraded. The best gear doesn't just protect—it augments. Makes your punches hit like gods. Saves your life when your chakra runs dry."
Rias nodded slowly, eyes drifting across racks of weaponry meant for wars not yet fought.
"And me?" she asked. "Can I buy something?"
"You could." Naruto leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed, a smirk twitching his lips. "Or you could earn it. Village pays for chores. Or...you could give me something I want."
Her head tilted. "And what do you want?"
"Not training. Not knowledge. I'm already giving you both. I don't barter for things I hand out for free." His voice dropped, soft as knives. "Give me something that costs you."
She thought of her world. Of magic and infernal contracts. Of demons bound to will and circle.
"I could summon for you," she said. "A servant. A familiar."
Not her body. That wasn't on the table.
But power? That she had. Bloodline magic older than Konoha's stones.
Naruto said nothing. Just looked at her. Judging. Measuring.
Rias stood her ground, eyes unflinching.
--------------------------------------
Konoha bathed in late afternoon gold, the sun bleeding down like a wound stitched into the sky, and the shadows grew long and honest. Where others found comfort in familiarity, Naruto walked in the cracks—between duty and danger, between future and fire. His path was not one granted. It was taken.
The bell above the Higurashi weapon shop door jingled like a death knell trying too hard to be polite. Naruto stepped inside, the soles of his sandals whispering over old wood varnished with sweat and steel. Rias walked beside him like a shadow that had learned to flirt with sunlight—dangerous and divine.
Across the counter, Tenten stood like a blade sheathed in silk. Hair twisted into twin buns like they were tied for war. Eyes dark and clear, like the sky just before it storms.
"Sorry for making you wait," she said, voice light but precise. She placed the items on the counter. "Here are your orders. Please check."
Naruto's fingers moved without ceremony. The wind sword shimmered faintly as he examined the seals etched into its steel—the script whispered of motion, of slicing wind and whistling death. He nodded. Into the inventory it vanished like breath into the cold.
Then came the silver rings. Innocuous, elegant, deadly. He slid them onto his left hand—symbols of his intent, instruments of dominion.
"Thank you for your patronage," she said with the trained grace of someone too young to have had to grow up so fast.
"You're welcome," Naruto replied, eyes locked on hers, "but I'm not done yet."
That made her tilt her head, the curiosity in her gaze sparking to life like flint on steel. "Yes? How can I help?"
"I'm building a team," Naruto said, as if confessing a crime that would one day become legend. "Not just any team. An ultimate one. I want you in."
Tenten blinked, lips parting slightly. "Is this another one of those trending games?" she asked, skeptical. "You do know that we'll be assigned teams by the Academy after graduation. We don't get to choose."
"Choice is an illusion sold to the weak." His voice was a low hum now, steady and unwavering. "The system? It's broken. Forced camaraderie breeds resentment. Mediocrity paired with talent dulls both blades. I'm not waiting to be shackled to weakness."
She crossed her arms, appraising him now. The room suddenly felt too narrow for the two of them. "You're saying you know better than the Academy? Than the Hokage?"
"I'm saying I don't want to waste potential. Ask around. See how many chuunin complain about their teammates. I'm not here to make friends. I'm here to make a difference." He paused, a grin flashing like lightning. "And I'll challenge you at every step."
That got her. Tenten's brows arched. "You think you can challenge me?"
"I can beat you without using both arms."
Silence.
Then a laugh—short, incredulous. "You're laying it on too thick."
"I'm just that confident. Ask Lee. He's already with me. I fought him, and he lost. Still smiling, but he lost."
The silence shifted. Her face didn't crack, but something behind the eyes did. "Lee... joined you?"
Naruto saw it. The flicker. The unspoken closeness between the two. A fragile, hidden thing.
"We can fight right here if you need proof," he offered. "Or you can come meet him. See for yourself."
Tenten chewed the inside of her cheek, then spun on her heel. "Wait a minute."
Naruto stood quietly as he heard voices behind the curtain—hers and an older woman's. A few moments later, Tenten reemerged, now without the apron of a vendor, but the walk of a warrior.
She didn't say anything. She didn't need to.
The older woman behind the counter gave Naruto a once-over, muttering something about reckless boys and foolish girls.
They walked out into the light. Rias joined silently, her crimson hair catching the dying sun like a war banner.
Beside him, Tenten adjusted the straps on her weapons pouch.
"Lead the way," she said.
Naruto smiled, the kind of smile that kingdoms fall to.
-------------------
The wind didn't blow on the rooftop—it bit. Sharp and hungry, it gnawed at the metal tank they stood on, the sky bruising violet as the sun bled into the west. Shadows stretched long, and in that narrowing world of dying light and unfinished dreams, Naruto spoke.
Not with the awkwardness of a child. Not with the hesitation of a soldier waiting for orders. But with the clarity of command. Of someone who had walked through flames and come out with his skin intact and soul charred just enough to feel warm when others froze.
"So tell me more about this team of yours?" Tenten asked. Her voice tried to be casual. It wasn't. It broke on the edges like water on shattered glass.
Naruto turned. His smile wasn't soft. It was carved—deliberate and cutting.
"It's a team that covers all weaknesses. A team that builds bonds like armor. A family stitched together by choice, not blood. Strength not in numbers, but in knowing where to place the knife and when to twist. A team that will walk—unbroken—through any hell this world wants to throw at us. Freedom is the final prize. Total freedom."
Tenten stared. Eyes wide. Eyes like someone who thought they were talking to a boy and was just now realizing the weight behind the words. Not a boy. Not anymore.
"That's a lot of pretty talk. How do you do that?"
"Everyone's got their use," Naruto said, with the flippancy of a gambler betting on a loaded die. "Lee has fists that laugh at gods. You've got precision that could cut thought from action. And me?"
He paused. Let the silence build a pyre. Then smiled again.
"I'm the boss."
Tenten blinked. "Boss?"
"Like in the games."
She groaned. "Seriously?"
"Deadly serious. I'm the boss character. All stats maxed. Final stage material."
Tenten couldn't help it. A laugh slipped through, and it was honest. "You're such a pain in the ass. And I find that charming."
She leaned in, subtle as a knife under a smile. Her arm brushed his. Held his. Skin to skin.
But Naruto was never subtle. He caught her waist with the ease of someone used to pulling blades from corpses. And he held her close—too close.
"I also find you charming," he whispered into her ear, his voice smooth, low, and laced with sin. "Charming enough to take a bite."
Tenten froze. Then flushed. Blood screamed through her cheeks.
"How did you…?"
"Experience."
The word shouldn't have landed like a bomb. But it did. Her mouth opened. Closed. "Don't tell me…"
She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't need to.
Rias, watching from the side, felt her breath hitch. It wasn't about jealousy. Not quite. It was the realization that whatever soft, naive image she had of Naruto… it had just cracked. Cracked and fallen away.
He's a man, she thought. A real one. Who's seen bodies in more ways than one.
Naruto shrugged. "Why not? I walk around the village a lot. Ended up in the Red Zone once. Full of shinobi—real ones. Heard things. Learned things. Got curious. And then Anko got involved…"
He didn't need to say more. Anko was a name that came with footnotes. None of them clean.
"You're diligent in the weirdest ways," Tenten muttered.
"I aim to please."
He turned toward her. Smile like silk over a blade. Winked at Rias.
"So if you ever want your first time to be worth remembering, I'm open to the idea. I won't even charge."
Tenten's laugh came out strangled. "Yeah… thanks. I'll… keep that in mind."
Naruto didn't push further. He didn't need to.
This wasn't about seduction. This was about dominance. A show of confidence wrapped in devil-may-care charm, beneath which lay a truth sharp enough to bleed.
--------------------------------
The forest was not quiet.
Even when silence reigned, the hush had weight — the kind that bent branches and soaked into bark. The kind that whispered through leaves like a secret too old to forget. The wind carried with it the sharp tang of sweat, the dull throb of exertion, and beneath that, a strange electricity — the kind of promise that precedes both a storm and a slaughter.
Naruto arrived like a breeze through those heavy woods, light on his feet, purpose heavy in his chest. The forest accepted him not as a visitor, but as something inevitable — a force with teeth bared and hunger barely restrained. His cloak fluttered behind him like a shadow eager to escape.
Fifteen minutes. That's all it had taken.
Fifteen minutes to shatter a worldview.
Fifteen minutes to tear down walls others spent years building.
And now he stood, boots on cracked earth, golden hair matted with heat and ambition, watching the boy who had once been his mirror — another orphan, another seeker, but still tethered by chains Naruto had long since broken.
Lee lay on the mossy floor, chest heaving, bruises in bloom like dusk flowers along his ribs. His fists were scraped raw. His spirit, unbroken.
"No pain, no gain," the boy had thought through cracked lips and clenched teeth, bones singing in protest. That was Lee. A blade dulled by kindness and honed on suffering. The beasts hadn't gone easy on him — not even tamed ones had mercy in their marrow. But Lee had faced them all, and still, he'd smiled.
"Lee." Naruto's voice cut through the thick air like a knife through fog.
The battered boy turned. His lips tugged into a grin, red at the edges. "Tenten," he wheezed, misreading the approach, "I was expecting you… but not so soon. Did he beat you too?"
"No," Tenten answered, walking beside Naruto with arms folded, eyes narrowed in suspicion that didn't quite reach her heart. "He said he beat you. I figured that couldn't be right."
Lee chuckled — or tried to. It came out as a dry rattle of air. "He did. And not with punches. He beat me with… ideas."
There was something dangerous in his grin. Not madness, not surrender — but belief. The kind of belief that soldiers kill for. The kind of belief Naruto seeded like wildfire wherever he walked.
"I think it's a great idea to join him," Lee said, and his words fell like weights, heavy with conviction. "He's powerful, sure… but it's more than that. He's got crazy ideas. Big ones. A family, he said — a powerful family that doesn't give up on each other. Not when it gets hard. Not ever."
Tenten glanced at Naruto. He said nothing. His eyes did not gleam, they glared — full of storms yet to break.
Her heart stuttered, not from love, but the ghost of something far more primal. She turned to Lee, lips drawn in thought. "Fine," she said at last. "I'll give it a chance. But if this turns out to be a waste, I'm taking Lee away from your grasp. Permanently."
Naruto grinned, all mischief and menace. "No problem. In fact, help me make it not a waste."
He pulled out a battered notebook — leather-bound, edges worn, thick with thoughts. It looked like something that belonged in a war room, not the hands of a boy with whisker-marked cheeks. "Here. My traps. My plans. Some of it's clear. Some of it's chaos. I need your eyes on it."
Tenten took it, and the moment her fingers brushed the cover, she felt it — the weight of purpose. This was no child's scribble book. This was a testament. Bloodless now, but not for long.
She sat on the ground, brow furrowed in focus as she flipped through the pages. Schematics. Strategies. Symbols she half-understood but fully felt.
Lines upon lines, inked with obsession.
The writing was precise. Angry. Alive.
Each trap was a question: How far are you willing to go to win?
Each margin note was a scream: How much blood can you spill before you choke on it?
Naruto sat beside her without asking. He didn't need to. They were all part of it now — pieces on a board that Naruto didn't just see, he commanded.