Darkness ebbed.
Naruto's breath caught as his eyes snapped open — the copper taste of blood on his tongue.
Pain lanced through his ribs. His limbs were heavy, but alive.
Above him — the barrier had fractured. Flickering.
Smoke hung thick in the air.
Across the clearing, Hayato fought alone — blade flashing desperately against the combined fury of Raiga Kurosuki and Kurodan.
Lightning danced. Shadows weaved.
The ground was scorched with battle marks.
Hayato's movements were slowing — wounds visible across his frame. He was barely holding them back.
Naruto forced himself up, breath ragged.
No crimson chakra answered. Just his own battered strength.
No time for thought. No words.
He grabbed his sword and moved.
Raiga lunged at Hayato — twin blades crackling with savage lightning.
Naruto closed the distance in an instant.
Steel met lightning — the clash of blades ringing sharp through the air.
Raiga's eyes flicked to him — brief surprise flashing.
But Naruto said nothing.
Focused. Silent.
His blade moved with instinct — no hesitation.
Raiga parried once — twice — but Naruto's strikes were relentless, efficient.
A feint.
A pivot.
Steel arced clean through Raiga's chest.
The swordsman gasped — body shuddering — then fell to the ground, lightning dying with him.
Naruto stood over the fallen body, breathing hard.
No chakra cloak. No demonic surge.
Only will and steel.
Meanwhile, Hayato faced Kurodan alone.
Kurodan snarled, shadows writhing, trying to overwhelm him.
But Hayato was faster.
A flicker of motion — blade flashing.
Steel sank deep.
Kurodan gasped — eyes wide — before crumpling beside Raiga.
The battlefield fell silent.
Two enemies dead.
Naruto wiped the blood from his blade, gaze steady.
Hayato exhaled, lowering his sword.
No words passed between them — only a brief nod of understanding.
The battle was over.
[Return to Kaigan ]
The sun had begun its slow descent by the time Naruto and Hayato reached Kaigan Outpost.
The village gates were in sight, battered but standing — a welcome sight after two weeks of blood, exhaustion, and shadows.
They entered without ceremony.
The stationed ninja — alert and on edge — snapped to attention as they recognized them.
"You made it back," the squad leader said, eyes flicking between them and the dried blood on their uniforms. "And… the mission?"
Hayato spoke first. Voice even, though worn.
"Raiga Kurosuki and Kurodan are dead. Their forces scattered. The threat to Kaigan is neutralized."
The outpost ninja exchanged glances — relief clear across weary faces.
"We'll forward the full mission report to the Hokage immediately," the leader promised, already calling for a courier hawk. "You've done more than was asked."
Naruto said nothing — just nodded once. His gaze was distant, body still aching beneath the surface.
There was no fanfare. No celebration.
Only the quiet satisfaction of survival.
After ensuring that Ranmaru's remains were accounted for — and no further traces of foreign chakra remained — the two shinobi took their leave.
Not toward the direct path back to the Leaf.
They needed to breathe.
The road led northward, away from the coast, toward the old mountain valley hot springs — a secluded place known only to a few.
It was a place of rest — long favored by traveling shinobi after long campaigns.
[The Road to Takayama]
Two days after leaving Kaigan Outpost, Naruto and Hayato walked a quieter path — one not carved by blood or battle.
The mission was done. Their report already in flight toward Konoha. Orders would await them soon enough.
But for now — there was time.
Time earned.
Their destination: Takayama Hot Springs — the "High Mountain Springs," a small, hidden retreat nestled deep within the eastern mountain range. A place whispered among shinobi who'd served long tours, known for its isolation and its healing waters.
Neither spoke much on the road.
Naruto walked with steady steps — blade strapped at his side, body still mending beneath the skin. The faint itch beneath his ribs, where black markings had once crawled, remained — a quiet reminder of battles not yet fully understood.
Hayato moved with practiced ease, though his own wounds bore fresh bandages beneath his flak vest. The man's quiet presence had become familiar now — a steady rhythm alongside Naruto's own.
The path climbed higher with each passing hour.
Cedars gave way to ancient stone, mist weaving between the towering peaks.
And then — the valley opened.
Takayama.
A cluster of simple wooden buildings built along steaming stone pools, their waters glimmering beneath the pale mountain sun. A faint scent of minerals and cedar hung in the air.
Few were here. No crowds. No prying eyes.
Ideal.
The caretaker, an elderly shinobi-turned-keeper, greeted them with a knowing nod.
"Two rooms. No questions."
They took them.
Before long — gear stowed, blades set aside — the two shinobi sank into the waters.
Steam rose around them. Silence, save for the soft rush of falling water.
Naruto leaned back, exhaling — eyes half-lidded.
"…Almost forgot what peace felt like," Hayato muttered from across the pool.
Naruto didn't answer. The words felt too heavy on the tongue.
Instead — he let the heat seep into battered muscles, into the marrow of bones that had known too much strain.
Somewhere beneath it all — deep within — the Kyūbi's presence stirred faintly. Watching. Silent.
The beast had its own thoughts. But for now — it, too, seemed content to let the vessel rest.
[Dinner & Rest]
After a long soak in the steaming pools of Takayama, the weariness in Naruto's bones had dulled — though not vanished.
The two shinobi had agreed, without words, that food came next.
The inn's small dining hall was simple: tatami floors, low tables, the scent of grilled fish and rice wafting through the air. A few travelers sat scattered in corners, speaking in hushed tones.
Naruto and Hayato chose a quiet spot near the window overlooking the dark slopes of the mountains.
A middle-aged innkeeper brought out bowls of steaming miso soup, grilled river fish, mountain herbs, and rice. Simple fare, but after weeks of trail rations and bloodied battles, it felt like a feast.
Hayato ate in silence at first, gaze steady but worn. His bandages peeked beneath the collar of his loose robe.
Naruto said little. His appetite was strong, but his mind wandered — back to the fight, the flickering crimson eye of Ranmaru, the strange burn beneath his skin, now quieted by the Kyūbi's will.
They finished the meal quietly, taking what comfort they could in the hot food and calm room.
When the plates were cleared, Hayato exhaled and stood, his movements stiff.
"I'm taking rest. You should too. Body needs it after a fight like that."
Naruto rose as well, stretching slightly. "Right."
They returned to their rooms — small, spare, but warm.
Naruto lay on the futon, staring at the ceiling beams, as they lulled him to sleep.