XXXXXX-MANGETSU HOZUKI POV
Turns out that when the going got tough, Cyclops could haul ass with the best of them. He covered the distance between them and the doujutsu user in seconds, with Mangetsu doing his best not to fall behind. Cyclops lunged, stabbing with his kunai, but the cloaked man weaved out of the way, letting the blade pass harmlessly by.
Mangetsu took a step forward, then leaped. The air was a dangerous place for a shinobi, but he committed to the strike, stabbing downward with his left-hand blade. The Kiba sword cut deep into the soft earth as the man moved back, his every motion quick and fluid.
Cyclops pressed the attack, lashing out with a high kick. The cloaked man blocked effortlessly with a single forearm. Mangetsu moved with him, flowing around his ally to stab with his blade—only for a black rod to materialize in the way, blocking his strike.
Mangetsu smirked. A quick application of chakra electrified the Kiba blade. That smirk died a second later as the electricity flowed harmlessly into the rod and disappeared. No effect. Before he could react, the same rod lashed out at him. He barely avoided it, jumping backward as Cyclops continued his relentless assault, stabbing and striking in unpredictable sequences. But their opponent remained unfazed, dodging or blocking every attack with mechanical precision.
Ox → Snake → Ram.
Mangetsu's hands blurred through the signs before he exhaled, releasing a dense mist. The thick, swirling vapor swallowed everything, turning the battlefield into a blank slate. Visibility dropped to a foot at most.
He heard Ao leap back, vanishing into the mist.
"Formation Two," he whispered. Cyclops would hear it. Standard Hunter-nin protocol dictated they enhance their hearing the moment the Kirigakure no Jutsu was activated.
Mangetsu listened, pinpointing their target. Cloak 4, he decided to call him. The man stood still within the mist. How foolish. He wouldn't be the first to try such a thing—thinking he could detect an attack if he focused enough.
Ridiculous.
"Eight points: larynx, spine, lungs, liver, jugular, subclavian artery, kidneys, heart. Each one will kill you. Where shall I strike?" Mangetsu projected his voice through the mist, just as his elders had taught him.
The man shifted slightly. That was all Mangetsu needed.
Dead.
In a blur, he flickered through the mist and struck, aiming both blades at the man's heart. But somehow, his opponent dodged—leaning back until his torso was parallel with the ground. Impossible.
Before Mangetsu could adjust, Cloak's legs shot upward. A powerful kick connected with his chest, sending him flying back. He absorbed the pain with barely a grunt before vanishing into the mist once more.
Then, something changed.
A presence entered the mist. A large presence.
"A Summon?" Mangetsu scowled, his body instantly surrounding itself with chakra in preparation.
Lightning crackled across his blades. In an instant, the entire mist turned into a web of electricity, pulsing with chakra. Anything inside should have been paralyzed.
He dove, certain of his victory.
A moment later, something slammed into him with crushing force, hurling him backward.
He hit the ground hard, his vision swimming. His head throbbed—wet warmth leaked from his scalp. He blinked against the haze, struggling to keep himself conscious.
The mist around him vanished.
Gone. A single jutsu had blown it all away.
Mangetsu groaned, rolling onto his side, forcing his body to move. He managed to open his eyes.
And froze.
Cyclops was locked in combat with Cloak 3—the leader.
Except it wasn't a fight.
The cloaked man toyed with him, dodging and striking with inhuman efficiency. Then Cloak 2 joined in.
Even as the best Hunter-nin Kirigakure had ever produced, Cyclops didn't stand a chance.
They trapped him between them. A punch from one sent him reeling into the other's attack. They overwhelmed him with a rhythm Mangetsu had never seen before.
Then it happened.
A black rod pierced through Cyclops' throat.
Mangetsu's breath hitched.
Cyclops didn't falter. He lunged forward, forcing himself deeper onto the rod, grabbing Cloak 2 with the last of his strength.
One hand seal.
Mangetsu recognized it instantly as he used his Hydrification Jutsu to save his life at the last second.
"No—"
But he would never know if it was the blood loss or the explosion that finally dragged him into unconsciousness afterwards.
XXXXXXXX
HEAD JOUNIN OF KUSA POV
She weaved away from a sudden strike aimed at her heart, barely suppressing the irritation bubbling beneath the surface. How had things gone so wrong so quickly?
She had started her day expecting nothing more than another round of tedious meetings—report after report from her spies, all trying to pick apart the fallout of Iwa's downfall. Ever since the Kazekage had effectively wiped Iwa off the map, not a single day had passed without her being dragged into at least ten different discussions. Some meetings even overlapped, forcing her to be shuttled between them, each one dedicated to figuring out how to exploit the power vacuum left behind by one of the Five Great Nations.
She had been on her way to yet another meeting when she caught sight of him—a lowly clerk, nothing more than a paper pusher. Or so she had thought. His gait, however, had set off alarms in her mind. He moved too deliberately, weaving through the class around her with unnatural precision. That brief suspicion was all that saved her life when he suddenly transformed, his form shrinking into that of a child—two fingers extended, thrusting for her heart.
The Gentle Fist.
Recognition flickered in her mind even as she twisted to evade the strike. So… Konoha finally makes its move.
But a child?
She had always assumed that if Konoha ever came for her head, it would be someone like Sharingan no Kakashi or the Green Beast. Not… this.
Her instincts screamed again, forcing her to lean back just as a katana swiped for her neck. Her eyes narrowed.
Two children.
She scoffed inwardly while subtly signaling to her guards. Go. Fortify the village's defenses. This was likely a distraction, an opening move in something larger. If Konoha thought Kusa was easy prey, they were in for a rude awakening. They had learned much since the Third War. Even if most of their plans had been geared toward an Iwa invasion, their preparations would serve just as well against the Leaf.
She retreated step by step, carefully positioning herself to keep both boys within her field of vision. It was then that she truly got a good look at the second child—and felt a shiver of recognition.
Him.
He was identical to another. To someone she would never forget.
Anyone who had ever encountered Uchiha Itachi would immediately recognize his little brother.
"You look just like him… a mini-Itachi," she remarked, watching as the boy's face twisted with rage.
And then—he roared.
The sudden, reckless charge surprised her. What did I say to set him off?
She barely dodged the furious sword swipe aimed at her skull, sparks crackling from the blade. With expert chakra control, she absorbed the charge harmlessly into the ground beneath her feet. His teammate followed immediately after, pressing the attack with two quick strikes.
She smirked. A more rewarding fight than I expected.
Their heads held immense value, but their eyes… oh, their eyes would be priceless. If she captured them alive, Kusa could breed its own Uchiha and Hyuga clans. And wouldn't that be a surefire way to ascend to the ranks of the Five Great Nations?
The thought sent a thrill through her.
She struck back, slipping a pair of senbon into her palms. The Hyuga boy moved well—dodging the first strike—but the second, hidden in the shadow of the first, found its mark. Or so she thought. He burst into smoke. Substitution.
A flicker of lightning—her instincts flared. Chakra surged through her body, absorbing the Hyuga's lightning jutsu just before she redirected it toward the Uchiha. He dove out of the way. Sloppy. He lacks mastery over the element.
How I'd love to face his sensei.
The famous Rakiri… now that was a technique she would love to test herself against. She was one of the few shinobi in the world who had cut a lightning bolt in half. No easy feat.
Her hands met in a rapid seal before she stomped the ground.
The Hyuga boy shot out of the earth like a ragdoll.
"Subterranean Voyage won't work against a stronger opponent," she stated coolly. "Anyone stronger than a chunin knows how to counter it."
Sasuke—the name surfaced from her reports—rushed her, only to halt at the last second, jumping back with a grunt.
Not completely stupid, then.
She mirrored his seals as he weaved them.
"Fire Release: Great Fireball Jutsu!"
Flames roared to life between them. His fireball, larger than hers, met her own in a furious clash—before his crumbled first, exploding in a blazing inferno.
The Hyuga tried to use the chaos to his advantage, but she was already moving. Two senbon cut through the air, forcing him to adjust his approach. When he finally reached her, she was ready.
His thrust came—she dodged it effortlessly.
Once. Twice.
Then she slammed into him, sending him tumbling back.
"Your teamwork is terrible," she mocked, smiling slightly. "Aren't Konoha ninja supposed to be good at that? That's why my sensei discarded me, wasn't it? Threw me back into the Corps?"
The Uchiha glared at her. "And you talk too much."
She smirked. Cocky.
He lunged.
She twisted just in time, sidestepping his blade before kicking him in the face and sending him flying.
"Your speed, strength, chakra, and reactions…" she mused. "All still at the chunin level. High-chunin, but still."
Her smile widened.
"Even together, you don't stand a chance."
GAARA OF THE DESERT - POV
The Sharingan was the ultimate cheat code. It made everything—learning, fighting, thinking—almost laughably easy. Techniques that once seemed difficult became child's play.
Take learning jutsu, for example. The Sharingan wasn't just a copier—it was an analyzer, a tool that deconstructed the very essence of what it observed. It had two primary ways of absorbing techniques.
First, there was the basic copying ability. With its photographic memory and heightened chakra control, the Sharingan allowed its user to reproduce any technique it witnessed with the same level of proficiency. But there were limits. I couldn't copy a technique that required more chakra than I had—it simply wouldn't work, or it would kill me. The same applied to techniques that required finer chakra control than I currently possessed. The Sharingan enhanced my control in certain ways, but it didn't outright grant me mastery.
For instance, when I copied the Mud Bullet Jutsu, I didn't have to concentrate on my chakra manipulation—the Sharingan did it for me. But when I watched Chiyo perform the Mystical Palm, I couldn't instantly replicate her expertise. Her skill came from years of refining her chakra control. However, once my control improved, I wouldn't need to spend years of trial and error—I'd be able to execute the jutsu flawlessly in an instant.
The second ability was arguably even more broken: understanding.
With the Sharingan, the workings of the universe were laid bare before me. I could see how chakra flowed to cast genjutsu, how it moved to trigger ninjutsu, how it enhanced taijutsu. Even though I couldn't replicate kekkei genkai, everything else became clear as day.
This was why my genjutsu skill had skyrocketed. Suna had no shortage of illusionists, and their decades of mastery became mine in a matter of months. The Sharingan's natural proficiency in genjutsu, combined with their expertise, had turned what was once a neglected art into an essential part of my arsenal—especially against weaker opponents.
A voice snapped me out of my thoughts.
"Kazekage-sama, a message from the Barrier Corps," Mebuki announced as she entered.
I turned away from the scroll I had been devouring with my eyes. Mebuki had changed over the past year, just as I had. My growth was artificial, fueled by drugs and supplements, while hers was earned—a refinement of experience and duty. She now wore proper office attire instead of the casual scrubs she used to favor at the hospital.
Appointing her as my right hand had been the only choice that made sense. She was loyal, helped keep Suna's factions in check, and was a damn good secretary. Honestly, she was half the reason the village still functioned, considering how much time I spent on my projects.
Without her, my lackluster leadership skills would have sparked a coup long ago. But my strengths lay elsewhere—results. I had turned Iwa's war chest into economic salvation for Suna. Social programs uplifted the village, while I ensured the adverse effects of rapid wealth influx—like inflation—were controlled with ruthless precision. Owning every grain of food that entered Suna allowed me to set prices as I pleased. My dictatorial hold over the economy made social welfare a weapon in my hands.
I broke the seal on the scroll and scanned its contents. A year ago, this message would have made me hesitate.
A battle against two Sannin and the Kyūbi jinchūriki?
Instead of fear, I felt excitement.
I didn't know why they were picking a fight, but I welcomed the opportunity to test how far I had come.
They were good, Gaara thought, watching the trio traverse the desert.
Naruto was the least experienced, but even his movements were practiced and smooth. None of them could match a true desert warrior, but their effort was passable.
He flexed his chakra and dissolved into sand, reforming right in front of them.
Naruto was the only one who reacted in time, jumping back with his hands raised, ready for combat. His stance was polished, far better than what Temari remembered from the Chūnin Exams—but that had been nearly two years ago.
He had grown.
Perhaps, even enough to pose a threat.
"Jiraiya-san," I began, my tone light and amused, "I assumed freeing you from your Kage's genjutsu would have been enough to guarantee that you'd never attempt to attack me or mine again."
Tsunade was the one to respond. "That's not why we're here."
"Really? Then what do you want?" I took a step forward, relaxing my stance. It was a feint, and they all knew it.
A subtle genjutsu concealed my spinning Sharingan, making my left eye appear teal, identical to my right.
"We have an offer for you," Jiraiya said, taking control of the conversation.
I gestured lazily. "I don't have all day. Speak."
"Your manners have taken a sharp nosedive, I see."
Tsunade glared at Jiraiya for his comment, but I ignored him. After a pause, he spoke again.
"Danzo is a false Kage who broke faith with you. We will help you infiltrate Konoha and assassinate him."
My smile widened. "Ah. So you two don't like the man who killed your sensei being Hokage. And what, exactly, does that have to do with me?"
"Danzo attacked you, nearly killed you, and orchestrated an attack on your Daimyō. He even broke your agreement with the Third Hokage. You should want him dead as much as we do."
I tilted my head. "Should I? He broke our agreement, yes. But apart from that… bygones can be bygones." I flashed a predatory grin. "If you want my help with your little coup, you're going to have to sweeten the deal."
"You don't see how Danzo is a threat to everyone?" Jiraiya took a step forward. "His idea of peace is a world where everyone flies Konoha's flag. If you think he won't eventually come for Suna, you're dead wrong."
I stepped forward as well, now standing face-to-face with him.
"Let him come. Let him take the world—and when he comes for me, he'll find the ninja of Suna waiting to tear his intestines from his body and scatter his ashes to the wind."
Jiraiya snorted. "Sure you could, kid."
I took another step forward. He was taller than me, but my stare was just as cutting. I ached to slice his throat open for his arrogance.
"Enough with the dick-measuring contest," Tsunade snapped.
Jiraiya backed off, and I turned to her.
"We will pay you. Four million ryō."
I barked a laugh. "I have more money than I know what to do with. Try again."
Tsunade's eyes narrowed. "We'll honor the land deal you had with the Third Hokage."
I scoffed. "You can't pay me with what you already owe. Try again."
She sighed. "We can't offer more land without the Daimyō's approval."
I smirked. "Then offer me something valuable. I want techniques."
Tsunade's lips thinned. "You might as well ask to see me naked."
I grinned. "Is that on the table?"
She rolled her eyes. "Nice try. Pick something else."
I pointed at Naruto. "I want him."
Naruto's eyes widened. "WHAT?!"
"..."
Jiraiya finally broke the silence, letting the blonde stew in his discomfort. "We don't engage in slave trade."
"Not like that," I clarified. "I want to study his seal. And I need at least a week to do it."
They exchanged glances, then turned toward each other—Jiraiya and Tsunade—communicating through a series of intricate hand signs. I memorized every movement with my Sharingan, but it wasn't a code I recognized. It wasn't standard Konoha, nor did it match the ciphers of any other village. Worse still, their signals contradicted themselves—five different meanings wrapped into identical motions. Maddening.
After a pause, they turned back to me. "We've come to a decision," Tsunade said.
"Three days with the seal. That's all."
"And forty million ryō," I added.
Jiraiya sighed. "What happened to money not mattering?"
I shrugged. "Doesn't mean I don't want a shit ton of it."
I sat cross-legged before the Jinchūriki, eyes locked on the seal.
At first glance, I couldn't make heads or tails of it. The Eight Trigrams Seal wasn't of Uzumaki design—that realization alone had thrown me off. The spirals had an Uzumaki flair, but the structure? Too different. Too refined. It wasn't just an accent on existing formulas. This was something else entirely.
The most logical conclusion? Kushina had taught Minato Uzumaki script, and he had gone ahead and remade it in his own vision.
By the second day, I was certain: Minato Namikaze was a genius of a caliber no one could ever match.
I had been scammed.
Jiraiya and Tsunade hadn't hesitated to grant me access because they knew there was little I could gain—at least, that's what they believed. But with each hour of study, I could feel my fūinjutsu knowledge growing. The more I analyzed, the more the seal unraveled itself to me.
The spirals, initially just aesthetic similarities to Uzumaki script, had an actual function. Unlike traditional Uzumaki seals, which served multiple roles, these spirals had one specific purpose: regulating chakra flow.
Three spirals, arranged in a triangular formation, surrounded one large spiral in the center. The smaller spirals acted as conduits. Any chakra attempting to escape without flowing through them was slammed back into the seal—painfully.
That explained why Naruto had never been influenced by the Kyūbi as a child. The seal physically prevented it.
"Stay still," I muttered as Naruto shivered beneath my ink brush.
"It's cold," he grumbled.
"Stick it through, kid."
"I'm older than you."
I flicked my hair back, locking eyes with him. "I'm taller, so what does that matter?"
Naruto scowled, but I ignored him. Another five minutes passed, and I had reached the limits of my current understanding. I'd copied the seal into my scroll, saving it for future study when my fūinjutsu skills had improved.
"Well, that's enough," I declared, standing up.
Jiraiya chuckled, a smug smirk playing at his lips. "Didn't find what you were looking for, huh?"
I met his eyes with a sharp glare. "The time I negotiated isn't up, is it?"
Before he could react, I lunged forward, grabbing Naruto by the throat and forcing him to meet my gaze. My Sharingan spun wildly, the genjutsu shrouding it dissolving as I reached beyond the boy—into the seal.
XXXXXXXX-Mindscape
Darkness.
Then light.
Red light.
A single, ominous source.
The Kyūbi no Kitsune loomed before me, its malevolent chakra seeping through the bars of its prison like thick miasma. The water beneath my feet rippled, but I paid it no mind. My focus was solely on the colossal beast before me—malice incarnate.
"WHAT DO YOU WANT?" It snarled, its voice reverberating through my bones.
I inhaled, steadying myself. "Just testing a theory, fox."
Our eyes met.
My Sharingan pulsed—and then twisted.
The world shifted. The Kyūbi fell silent. Instinctively, my eyes evolved into their next stage—Mangekyō.
For a brief moment, I hesitated. Was this real? Could it be this easy?
"Jump," I commanded.
The Kyūbi obeyed.
A massive, earth-shaking motion. It bent its knees, then launched itself skyward—only to crash down in an instant.
I smirked. It wasn't faking it.
"Now, give me your chakra, fox," I ordered, stepping forward as I activated my second seal.
Not the Blessed Seal that healed my Sharingan—no, this was something else. A simpler formula, inspired by the Strength of a Hundred, designed to store chakra separately from my main network.
The Kyūbi reacted violently, whipping a tail toward me.
I smiled as it passed through one of the regulating spirals—its chakra forced to undergo purification before reaching me.
With a deep breath, I reached forward, accepting the chakra as it surged into my seal.
Mission accomplished.
XXXXXXXX-Reality
The Rasengan in Jiraiya's hand spiraled toward me with devastating force, but I met it head-on. With a precise thrust of my hand, I countered his chakra rotation from the opposite direction. The technique exploded between us, sending Jiraiya skidding backward while I held my ground with a controlled burst of chakra.
I released Naruto, letting the boy drop to the floor.
"Don't do anything reckless. The kid's fine," I said, keeping my voice steady as I met Jiraiya's gaze.
Jiraiya took a cautious step forward, scrutinizing me. Behind him, Naruto scrambled to his feet and rushed toward his guardian without hesitation.
"What the hell was that?" Jiraiya barked.
"I was testing a theory," I replied evenly.
"Testing what?" His voice was sharp, demanding. "Give me the truth."
I didn't like his tone.
"None of your business." I met his glare without flinching. "Our deal is done. You upheld your end, and I'll uphold mine. Stay in your quarters—we move out to Konoha in forty-eight hours."
Before Jiraiya could protest, my body collapsed into a swirl of sand.
I was confident they wouldn't act rashly. Yes, Naruto had seen my Sharingan, but that didn't concern me. Even if Jiraiya figured out where I had obtained it, either common sense or Tsunade's fist would keep him from making it an issue.
I put it all out of my mind.
It was time to meet destiny.
Ichibi no Shukaku.
I stepped into the chamber prepared specifically for this moment. The same one that once imprisoned Bunpuku before he was sealed within the tea kettle.
Failure was not an option. I wasn't as unprepared as I had been the first time. Now, I had my Sharingan—and a much deeper understanding of what needed to be done.
More importantly, this time, I wasn't summoning Shukaku into my world.
I was entering his.
I took a deep breath and glanced at my stat sheet. My Genjutsu skill had increased by three points after successfully subduing the Kyūbi no Kitsune. But my focus was on something else.
Meditation: 72.
The number stood out. Countless hours of training had paid off. And the moment I had crossed level seventy, a notification had appeared.
You can now enter the seal at will.
I exhaled slowly, centering myself.
"Enter seal," I commanded.
The world around me shifted.
No dark sewer. No damp tunnels.
A beach.
I turned, my eyes locking onto the massive form of the Ichibi, confined to a tiny island floating on an endless sea. Water stretched infinitely in all directions, and I realized its purpose almost immediately.
The seal had been designed with cruel precision.
Shukaku was trapped in his true form, unable to shrink or shift his mass for comfort. The island barely contained him, forcing him to remain still. If he moved—if even a single claw dipped into the water—he would burn as if submerged in acid.
I can see why he has underwent Insanity...
His voice shattered the silence.
"You bastard!" he roared, his rage vibrating through the air.
I ignored him. Instead, I lifted my hand, commanding the sand beneath my feet to carry me toward him.
Shukaku's glare followed me, his one visible eye narrowing. "Comfortable with the power I gave you, aren't you?" he sneered.
I smiled—a slow, cruel expression.
"There are many ways to tame a Tailed Beast," I mused. "The best method—for both of us—would be talking. Building trust. Becoming friends."
Shukaku scoffed, and I almost laughed with him.
That was never going to happen.
Even if the seal's construction forced a degree of obedience, the Ichibi was too unhinged to ever cooperate willingly. And I had neither the time nor the patience to try Naruto's naïve approach.
So instead, I was going to cheat.
"That would be the most comfortable way for both of us," I admitted. "But the most comfortable way for me?"
I activated my Sharingan.
"Obey."
My left eye spun, casting its irresistible command.
Shukaku's pupils dilated. Where once there had been dark pools of malice, now they reflected the scarlet glow of my Sharingan.
I could feel it.
He was mine.
And now… it was time to rewrite the seal.
If I wanted a deal as good as Naruto's with Kurama in the anime, I had work to do.
(End of Chapter)
Stat Sheet:
Name; Gaara of the Desert
Age; Fourteen
Level; 16
Title; Kazekage of Sunagakure
Chakra Capacity; 7,000/7,000 (Regeneration; 250 cp per minute)
Ichibi Chakra Capacity; 45,000/45,000 (Regeneration; 750 cp per minute)
Strength; 63
Speed; 88
Agility; 89
Endurance; 84
Intelligence; 95
Durability; 74
Perception; 99
Charisma; 71
Stat Points; 0
Skills;
Gamer's Mind Mark Two-ON
Taijutsu; 87
Kenjutsu; 89
Ninjutsu; 94
Genjutsu; 75
Fuinjutsu; 88
Medical Ninjutsu; 89
Wet Tinkering; 82
Sand Control; 84
Pain tolerance; 37
Meditation; 72
Shape manipulation; 86
Chakra Sensing; 29
Chakra affinities;
Wind; 92
Earth; 88
Fire; 71