Feel free to read my other stories "Dragon Ball: Satan the Strongest" and "Ben 10 in Marvel Universe" and If you wish to read more or simply support me than check out my patreon at
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As the Nine-Tailed Fox descended upon Konoha, it was as if the heavens themselves were shattering. The air trembled under the weight of its fury. Crimson flames licked the rooftops, casting twisted shadows across the village, painting the night in a hellish orange glow.
Screams tore through the chaos—children crying, families shouting for loved ones, shinobi barking orders drowned by the roar of collapsing buildings. The ground quaked with each step of the monstrous beast, its growl a thunderclap that silenced reason, hope, everything.
The village was being devoured by a living nightmare. Hope, fragile as it was, burned.
Yet in the eye of that apocalyptic storm, a single sound pierced the veil of terror—a cry. Faint. Fragile. But unwavering.
The first breath of a new life.
In a quiet corner of Konoha, miraculously untouched by the rampage, stood a modest home. Its walls shuddered with every distant explosion, lanterns flickering under the weight of fear. But within, something extraordinary unfolded.
A child had just been born.
His hair shimmered silver-white, untouched by soot, a stark contrast to the burning world outside. And then his eyes opened—crystalline blue, impossibly deep, reflecting the flames like mirrors. But most unsettling… was the clarity behind them. Not the blank innocence of a newborn—but a gaze far too lucid. Far too aware.
They named him Satoru.
The Gojo family had long lived in the forgotten threads of Konoha's complex web of clans. Quiet. Invisible. A name whispered, never remembered. For generations, they had been civilians—artisans, merchants, unremarkable souls with no known connection to chakra, no trace of ninjutsu. Ghosts in the shadow of history.
And yet, on this cursed night, the threads of fate twisted.
Something impossible had awakened in that quiet home. A ripple—small now—but destined to become a wave that would one day reshape the shinobi world.
The child bore the Rikugan—the Six Eyes. A power so rare, so otherworldly, that not even the oldest legends of Konoha had dared speak its name.
Far away, on a battlefield ravaged by chakra and smoke, the Fourth Hokage stood against the Kyūbi, unaware that another force had just entered the world—one that would echo through the fabric of time.
The air settled into a tense silence, broken only by distant alarms and the crackle of smoldering rooftops. In the small house on the outskirts of the village, time seemed to stop.
A woman lay on a tattered futon, her hair damp with sweat, her body trembling from the pain of childbirth—but her arms were strong. She held the newborn tightly to her chest, as if the world might try to steal him away.
Her husband knelt beside her. One hand on her shoulder. The other pressed to the floor, steadying himself—not from exhaustion, but from awe.
"His eyes…" she whispered, barely audible. "Look at his eyes…"
The man leaned closer, and for a moment, the noise of the outside world disappeared. The child's gaze—barely minutes old—stared back at them with a stillness that was… unnatural. Unnerving. Beautiful.
"They're… like the sky," she murmured, her voice cracking, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing.
He didn't answer. He couldn't. His breath caught in his chest as he looked into those crystal eyes—like untouched glaciers, endless and piercing.
"The prophecy," he said at last, as if recalling a dream long dismissed. "The tale of the child with sky-colored eyes… born once every thousand years. The bearer of the Rikugan."
She turned to him, fear glimmering through her exhaustion. "That's just a myth," she said weakly. "We're not… warriors. We're just… us."
He nodded slowly, never breaking eye contact with the boy. "Civilians. Merchants. Ghosts in the village. I know."
"Then how—?" she began.
He reached out and gently touched the baby's cheek.
"Maybe that's exactly why," he said softly. "Maybe the world needs a protector not born from power, or pride, or bloodlust. Maybe it needs someone raised in kindness. In love."
She looked down at the child. He hadn't cried since that first breath. His tiny chest rose and fell with perfect calm. As if he had nothing to fear.
"What do we do with him?" she asked, her voice barely more than breath. "How do we raise a child like this?"
Her husband smiled, a tired, brave smile.
"Like any other. We feed him. We hold him. We teach him to be good. To be strong. We love him—especially when we're afraid."
He leaned down and touched his forehead to his son's, whispering words only the child could hear.
"And when the world comes for him… maybe he'll be strong enough to face it. And maybe… just maybe… he'll be the one to save it."
While quiet wonder bloomed in a shattered home at the edge of Konoha, the heart of the village burned.
High above the rooftops, atop the Hokage Monument, thunder clashed with chakra as titans clashed in the darkness. The Nine-Tailed Fox roared, its tails sweeping across the land—crushing towers, splitting streets, swallowing shinobi whole.
And cutting through fire and fury like divine lightning… stood Minato Namikaze, the Fourth Hokage.
Bloodied. Breathing hard. But unyielding.
Before him, a masked man cloaked in swirling darkness had tried to tear Konoha in two. He had summoned the Kyūbi with little more than a curse and a whisper. His crimson eyes glowed with twisted power, his body slipping through space and time itself.
But Minato was faster.
He had chased him. Fought him. Outsmarted him. And now, he had pushed him back. Forced him to retreat—if only for now.
But the cost was already too great.
The Kyūbi raged unchecked. And Minato knew: there was only one path left.
In a sacred chamber sealed by ancient jutsu, Minato knelt beside his wife, Kushina, her chakra nearly spent, her skin pale. In her arms, their newborn son—Naruto—cried, unaware of the burden soon to be his.
Tears glistened in Kushina's eyes as she clung to the boy.
"He's so small…" she whispered. "So warm."
Minato's hands trembled, but his resolve did not. "He'll grow strong. We'll make sure of it."
"You mean… he will."
They shared a final glance. One last moment between soulmates.
Then, together, they performed the forbidden seal.
With a blinding flash, the Kyūbi's form was torn apart—its essence split and locked away. One half sealed forever. The other… placed within the body of a child.
A child born of love.
As dawn touched the scorched horizon, two bodies lay still.
And a baby—his cheeks still wet with tears—rested beneath a monument of sacrifice, unaware of the legacy carved into his very soul.
Two children were born that night.
One, heralded by fire and prophecy.
The other, forged in loss and legacy.
And neither fate… nor the world… would ever be the same.
/
Feel free to read my other stories "Dragon Ball: Satan the Strongest" and "Ben 10 in Marvel Universe" and If you wish to read more or simply support me than check out my patreon at
"patreon.com/ik_uzomaki_drt"
You Can Read up to 7 More Chapters there