[Northwestern Border of the Land of Claw --- Village of Senzai]
The road sloped downward, carved through red earth and old stone, the remnants of a more prosperous time. Now the air was heavy with charcoal and damp sweat. Farm terraces once green had yellowed with neglect, and the road into Senzai was choked with carts, tarps, and wary eyes.
Naruto walked through the smoke.
He wore a black coat with shortened tails for freer movement, vambraces on both arms, and a fitted armor vest beneath-layered and sleek, designed for utility over flair. At his side, a long-handled knife sat sheathed diagonally behind his back, the hilt nestled beneath the folded collar of his coat.
His hood was up. His mask was on.
Villagers noticed him immediately. They always did.
Children playing near the gutters froze. Shopkeepers pulled their tarps down mid-sale. Even stray dogs ducked beneath carts, growling low as if they sensed something not right with the air around him.
The mask was not meant to be ignored. The mask never was.
But Naruto didn't speak. He didn't flash a headband or show a scroll. His presence was enough. He passed through the market like a ghost with weight. A shadow they couldn't forget.
---
He found Shino in the ruined temple at the village's edge, past a half-collapsed grain tower and a long-dead orchard. The temple itself was no longer sacred-just another abandoned shell repurposed by ANBU for field operations. Vines had grown through the windows. Candles burned in makeshift holders. The seal on the door glowed faintly, meant to alert rather than defend.
Naruto stepped through the archway, boots quiet on the stone. Inside, it smelled like old books, dust, and ink.
Shino was crouched beside a worn-out scroll, surrounded by tiny insects crawling in perfect formations across the map. A quiet rhythm of legs and parchment.
"You're early," Shino said, voice calm as ever.
Naruto pulled down his hood. Then he reached up and slid off his mask.
He set it gently on a nearby stone.
"I took the west road," he replied. "Cleaner trail. No patrols."
Shino looked up and gave a small nod-one of the few people who still looked Naruto in the eyes.
"I figured they'd send someone eventually," Shino said. "Didn't expect it to be you."
Naruto crouched beside him, forearms resting on his thighs. "Why?"
"You're too visible," Shino replied. "Too effective. Your presence creates... noise."
Naruto didn't argue. "They want noise."
"They want control," Shino corrected.
He turned the map toward Naruto. "This village isn't rebelling for fun. They're angry. They've been taxed dry by the council. Two years of missed harvests. No aid. No shinobi protection until it's politically convenient."
Naruto's jaw tightened, but only for a second.
"Why now?"
"Because someone started speaking up," Shino said. "A woman. Keiko. Former seamstress. Been gathering people here, teaching them how to organize without weapons. She's careful, but loud. And she's not alone anymore."
"She a threat?"
Shino paused. "To the mission? Yes. To the people? No."
There was silence.
Then Naruto reached back and unsheathed his knife, resting it across his lap. A long, polished blade with a reinforced back edge-quiet, clean, sharp enough to part flesh without resistance.
"The orders?"
Shino lowered his eyes. "Public execution. In the square. Make it quick, and make it seen."
Naruto's fingers tapped the hilt once.
"I see."
"She's not a fighter," Shino added. "You won't need technique. Just the look. Just the gesture."
Naruto stood slowly, picking up his mask and sliding it back on in one fluid motion.
He turned toward the door.
"Anything else?"
Shino didn't answer for a moment. Then, quietly:
"She has a son. Six, maybe seven. Watches her speak from the rooftops."
Naruto paused at the threshold.
"...I'll be fast."
Then he stepped out into the fading light.
---
The crowd had already gathered.
Word traveled fast in places like Senzai, where hope and fear always danced too close together. Keiko stood in the center of the cracked stone square, framed by crumbling buildings and quiet stares. She didn't shout today. Didn't wave her arms or climb a crate.
She just stood, looking calm. Defiant.
Waiting.
Naruto entered the square from the eastern path, his coat trailing behind him, steps slow but deliberate. The mask caught the last edge of sunlight-white and cold. A signal. An omen.
He didn't speak.
He didn't need to.
Keiko raised her chin. "So that's it, then? They send a mask and a knife instead of an answer?"
No reply.
Naruto stepped within two paces of her.
She looked at him-not with fear, but something worse: disappointment.
"I used to sew uniforms for shinobi," she said. "My husband died wearing one. You think you're terrifying? You're just another stitch."
The knife slid from its sheath with barely a whisper.
She didn't move.
He stepped behind her.
One breath.
One clean draw across the neck.
Keiko dropped forward, blood soaking the stone. Her body twitched once, then stilled. The crowd made no sound. No one screamed. No one cried. They simply stood there, frozen in the moment of what they already knew was coming.
Naruto cleaned the blade on the inside hem of his coat.
Then turned.
"Go home."
They obeyed.
---
[Village of Senzai -- Council Hall]
The chamber stank of smoke, ink, and sandalwood oil.
Naruto stood before the panel of councilmen, mask still on, his figure quiet and motionless. His knife, now clean, rested sheathed against his back. Across from him, Elder Gawa reclined in a polished chair that didn't match the rest of the crumbling hall, fingers drumming against his ledger.
"The woman?" Gawa asked casually.
"Executed in the square," Naruto answered, his voice flat behind the mask.
"Excellent. Good visibility?"
Naruto nodded once. "They watched."
Gawa smiled, brushing lint from his vest as if he'd done something himself.
"Very good. Direct. Clean. You ANBU types never disappoint. This'll send the message just fine."
Then-a voice.
Low. Mocking. Rumbling just beneath the skin.
"Clean, he says. Hah. That's all they want from you now, isn't it? Another butcher with a clean floor."
Naruto's hand twitched at his side, just a fraction.
Gawa hadn't noticed. He was already pulling a bottle from a cabinet, pouring himself something clear into a chipped cup.
"Dismissed."
Naruto bowed slightly, mask dipping, and turned for the exit.
"Why stop at one?" Kurama's voice coiled like smoke behind Naruto's eyes. "They were all afraid. You had them. You could've ended the crowd. Then the square. Then the village. So easy, wasn't it? They'd thank you in the end. Maybe cry. Maybe beg. Gods love blood."
Naruto didn't flinch. Didn't respond. Just walked.
"You're not a shinobi. You're not a hero. You're just me-with paperwork."
The mask stayed on until he stepped out into the dark.
---
[Later - Abandoned Temple Safehouse]
Naruto sat against the edge of a cracked support pillar, mask now off, resting beside him on the stone. His breath escaped in long, slow exhales. The knife lay across his lap again, untouched.
Across from him, Shino leaned against the wall, arms crossed, silent.
The insects had returned to their burrow-there were no words to give commands now.
"You could've disarmed her," Shino said at last.
Naruto didn't answer.
"She wasn't a fighter. You could've broken the crowd's confidence a dozen other ways. A lie. A show of power. A rumor. You didn't have to-"
"It was the mission," Naruto replied, not even looking up.
"That doesn't mean it was right."
"She made herself the message."
Shino's jaw tensed, barely visible beneath his high collar.
"Sometimes the method matters more than the result."
Naruto glanced up.
"Not to the people who give orders."
"You believe that?"
"I obey that."
Shino looked at him for a long moment.
"You know," he said, voice low, "there was a time I thought you'd be the one to change things."
Naruto's eyes narrowed, his voice quieter. "Maybe that's the problem."
Silence settled between them again.
Shino didn't press further. He simply stepped past Naruto, pausing near the broken doorway.
"Her son was watching."
Naruto didn't move.
Shino nodded once to himself.
Then left.
Alone, Naruto sat in the ruined temple, the edge of his blade catching moonlight as wind whispered through the cracks. The fire in his chest hadn't cooled. It never really did.
And somewhere deep within, Kurama was still smiling.