The wind howled through the rugged cliffs of Lian Yu, its sharp edge slicing across Minato's face as he perched silently on a rocky ledge overlooking the dense, mist-covered forest below. His sharp blue eyes scanned the unfamiliar figures moving in the underbrush—soldiers clad in tactical gear, moving with precision. They were clearly professionals, not lost travelers.
"They're searching for something," Kurama's deep voice echoed in Minato's mind. "And I doubt it's a good thing."
Minato nodded, his hand instinctively brushing against the worn leather pouch strapped to his hip, filled with custom-carved kunai he had painstakingly shaped from Lian Yu's ironwood. Each kunai was etched with the Flying Raijin seal—his signature teleportation mark. They were his lifeline, forged through three relentless years of training.
He quietly dropped down from the ledge, landing soundlessly on the forest floor. The island's wild terrain had become his home, its dangers as familiar as his own heartbeat. He blended into the shadows, stalking the soldiers like a ghost.
Minato followed the soldiers for hours, listening from the cover of thick foliage. Their leader, a burly, scar-faced man, barked orders with brutal efficiency.
"We're close!" the leader snapped. "The box should be buried beneath the ancient altar. No mistakes!"
Minato narrowed his eyes. "A box…?" He knew that nothing good ever came from cursed relics in ancient temples.
"Think they're after some treasure?" Kurama mused.
"Maybe something worse."
A sudden noise broke his concentration—a crashing sound of someone stumbling through the underbrush. Minato turned, kunai in hand, and prepared for a fight. Instead, he saw a disheveled, drunken man stumbling toward him, a nearly empty whiskey bottle in hand.
The man tripped, falling face-first into the dirt. "Bloody hell… stupid island…"
Minato raised an eyebrow, lowering his kunai cautiously. "Who are you?"
The man groaned, pushing himself up with a grumble. "John Constantine… master of the dark arts… or so they say." He coughed and took another swig from his bottle. "You must be the island's mysterious ghost… Seen your handiwork."
Minato's expression remained unreadable. "Why are you here?"
Constantine wiped his mouth and pointed toward the direction of the soldiers. "Those lot? They're after something ancient… and dangerous. A demon's prison—sealed in a box older than most legends. If they open it… well, let's just say this island won't be the only thing damned."
Minato's jaw clenched. "Why should I believe you?"
Constantine smirked darkly. "Because if I was lying, you'd already be dead."
After a tense moment, Minato slowly lowered his kunai. "What do you need from me?"
Night fell over the island as Minato and Constantine watched from the cover of thick ferns near the soldiers' encampment. They had cleared part of the forest and uncovered an ancient stone altar, its worn surface marked with strange, demonic runes.
"Ritual site," Constantine muttered. "The seal keeping the box shut is tied to that altar… They break it, the world's one hellish nightmare away from ending."
Minato's fingers brushed his kunai. "We won't let them."
Constantine gave a grim nod. "I'll handle the seal. You keep them off my back."
Minato vanished in a flicker of yellow light, reappearing behind two guards at the camp's perimeter. Before they could react, he incapacitated them with precise strikes, leaving them unconscious in the dirt.
"Show-off," Constantine muttered before moving toward the altar.
As Constantine began chanting in an ancient, guttural language, the soldiers noticed something was wrong. Shouts erupted from the camp as the scar-faced leader spotted Constantine. "Kill him!"
Minato surged into action, hurling kunai into the fray. With a flash of yellow light, he teleported mid-air, driving his heel into one soldier's chest with bone-cracking force. Spinning mid-landing, he slashed through another's rifle with a kunai, sending sparks flying.
Bullets tore through the night, but Minato was faster—vanishing and reappearing in a blur of lethal precision. Soldiers fell one after another, caught in a whirlwind of slashes and strikes too fast to counter.
Kurama growled in satisfaction. "You've come a long way."
Minato drove a kunai into the ground, teleporting behind the scar-faced leader before he could react. He delivered a devastating roundhouse kick, sending the man crashing into a tree.
Constantine's voice rose into a crescendo as he completed the sealing ritual. The altar glowed with blinding red light before dimming into eerie silence. The ground trembled, and the ancient box sank back into the earth, hidden once more.
Breathing heavily, Minato stood over the defeated soldiers as Constantine stumbled toward him, clearly drained.
"We… did it," Constantine gasped.
Minato nodded, offering a hand to steady him. "Let's get out of here."
The Next Morning
By sunrise, Constantine was packed and ready to leave on a boat he'd managed to conjure—though Minato never asked how.
"Appreciate the assist, mate," Constantine said with a weary smile. "You're a bloody nightmare in a fight, you know that?"
Minato nodded curtly. "Be careful out there. Don't let this happen again."
Constantine chuckled, already lighting a cigarette. "No promises." He paused, studying Minato with a knowing look. "You're stronger than you think, kid. Don't waste it."
Without another word, he set sail, vanishing into the horizon like a fleeting memory.
One Year Later
Minato stood at the highest cliff on Lian Yu, gazing out at the endless ocean stretching beyond the horizon. His black combat gear was worn but well-maintained, his kunai gleaming at his side. Four long, grueling years on this unforgiving island had shaped him into something more—something far greater than he ever thought possible.
Kurama's voice broke the silence. "You've done well… but I can feel it—you're restless."
Minato nodded slowly. "It's time… time to return home."
With a final, resolute breath, Minato hurled a kunai into the open sky and vanished in a flash of yellow light—leaving Lian Yu behind, but forever changed by its trials.