The wind howled outside the sanctuary.
Rain kissed the cracked stone ceiling in soft, distant rhythms. Naruto sat cross-legged beside a forge he'd built from scrap, scrolls unfurled around him, a silent storm of ink and metal.
He hadn't spoken for nearly two hours.
Kurama stirred in the quiet, flicking his chakra lightly into Naruto's spine. "You've been staring at the same line for too long."
Naruto didn't look up. "I'm designing something."
Kurama growled. "You've designed enough seals to lock down a mountain. What is it now?"
Naruto unrolled the scroll farther — a rough sketch of armor. Layered black sleeves. Steel-threaded gloves. A long cloak that divided mid-back. Reinforced mesh undercoat. Sharp-lined greaves.
Not too heavy.
Not too symbolic.
Just... efficient.
Kurama peered through the connection. "...Clothes?"
Naruto finally blinked. "No. Protection."
Kurama huffed. "You didn't need protection to cut through thirty men last week."
Naruto's voice was flat. "That was different. They didn't hit back."
Silence stretched.
Naruto stood, walking toward the forge, rolling his shoulders slowly.
"I've been fighting like a shadow. A rumor. But that won't last. I need more."
He touched one of the black plates — obsidian steel, laced with chakra tags.
"Clothes are... identity. Visibility. Symbol."
Kurama scoffed. "You think armor will scare them more?"
Naruto smirked faintly. "No. I think it'll make them remember me longer."
He reached for the coat he'd been stitching — blood-red on the inside, black on the outside, sleeves reinforced with chakra-soaked Uzumaki silk. A crimson sash around the waist, tied in a sharp knot. Chainmail beneath. Everything sealed to regenerate.
Kurama narrowed his gaze. "That's not just armor. That's a statement."
Naruto nodded.
"Exactly."
The fabric wasn't ordinary.
It was chakra-sensitive.
Sealed with three scroll matrices embedded in the back and spine.
A technique he found buried in one of the Uzumaki vaults — "Regenerative Weaving."
A seal script embedded into each fiber, drawing passive chakra from the user and the environment. Not healing. But restoring the integrity of the armor. Cuts would vanish. Tears would re-stitch. The longer Naruto fought, the more the outfit adapted to the rhythm of his movements.
The coat was sleeveless near the shoulders — letting his chakra chains exit without resistance.
His boots were thick-soled, reinforced at the calf, perfect for silent terrain.
Fingerless gloves — with etched symbols that enhanced chakra feedback from weapons.
The cloak was long, split in half near the bottom, designed to flow — not drag.
A symbol was sewn across the back: not the Leaf.
Not even the Uzumaki crest.
Just a spiral — closed, elegant, dark.
Unfinished.
Like him.
Kurama watched quietly from within.
"You're dressing like a god of death."
Naruto didn't deny it.
"Good."
He stood in front of the mirror, crimson eyes glowing faintly in the forge light, the armor hugging his frame like shadow turned skin.
Hair tied back. Bangs low. Eyes dead calm.
Kurama hummed.
"You'll look like a ghost they'll never forget."
Naruto lowered the coat's hood, testing the balance of weight.
"I don't want them to forget."
Kurama tilted his head.
"And what do you call this... battle coat of yours?"
Naruto answered without hesitation.
"I don't call it anything."
He turned away from the mirror.
"It's not a name. It's a warning."