บท 9: Chapter no.9 Naruto
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Chapter no.8 For Those Left Behind
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Naruto stood in front of the old apartment building that the Hokage had given him when he was a kid.
More of an apartment complex than a house, really. The building stood weathered and beaten, like it had been forgotten by time. The reddish-brown roof sloped down in layers, the tiles worn and cracked. Tangled wires snaked along the green trim of the beige walls, and silver chimneys jutted from the top like broken teeth. One section extended out awkwardly, like the bow of an old, rusted ship.
No one else lived there.
Just him.
And now he finally knew why.
In the span of one night… Naruto had gone from being the knuckleheaded ninja to some kind of emo. He should've laughed at or even denied that thought, but he couldn't muster the energy.
Too much had happened. Too much to process.
His head felt heavy, like it was filled with sand, dragging him down with every step.
How many more lies are there? Naruto wondered, his chest tight. How much more don't I know?
He kicked off his shoes the second he stepped inside, not caring where they landed. The coldness of the floor hit his feet, but he didn't care. He just slumped down, his back against the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him.
I'm so tired.
"I just wanna sleep, dattebayo..." Naruto's voice came out weak, not even recognizable as his own. He wanted nothing more than to just shut off his mind, to shut off everything, to stop the constant buzzing in his head. The ringing in his ears wouldn't stop. His thoughts wouldn't stop.
He pulled his headband off and tossed it aside, getting up slowly. His body moved on autopilot as he shuffled to the cupboard, grabbing a cup of ramen—the only thing he could stomach right now. He boiled some water, poured it in, and just stood there, staring at the cup as it sat on the table. Waiting.
Ignorance is bliss.
It was something his teachers always said whenever Naruto would question something. He used to hate hearing that, but now… now it felt true. Yesterday, life had been simple. He was just Naruto—the orphan, the outcast, the nobody who was gonna become the kickass Hokage.
That was it. That was all he had to worry about.
But now?
Now he didn't even know what he was.
Naruto slumped back into the chair, his hands coming up to rub his face. I don't know anymore. He wasn't a demon. He wasn't the Kyuubi. But that didn't make any of it better. It just made it worse, like the world had flipped upside down, and he was still falling, trying to figure out which way was up.
He grabbed the cup noodles, peeling off the lid. The steam hit his face, the smell familiar, comforting in a way. He mixed the packet in, stirring the noodles, watching them swirl in the broth like his thoughts.
Yesterday was simple.
Naruto took a bite, the hot noodles sliding down his throat. The flavor hit him, and he savored it, but even that felt dulled. The one thing that always tasted great, the one thing that always lifted his spirits, felt… flat. But he ate it anyway. He needed to feel something.
He sighed, putting the cup down. He stared at it for a long moment, then muttered, "Status."
A window flickered in front of him, black with gold lettering, and Naruto stared at it blankly.
[ Name: Naruto Uzumaki ]
[ Covenant: None ]
[ Level: 1 ]
[ Souls: 200 ]
Naruto narrowed his eyes at the screen in front of him. These numbers… they weren't the same as before. Something had changed.
One thing stood out immediately.
[ Souls: 200 ]
[ R Weapon 1: 96 ]
I get souls, he thought, since I absorbed all those hollows and Mizuki-teme, but what's the deal with the other thing?
His gaze zeroed in on the line that said R Weapon 1. What the hell did that mean? He scratched his head, feeling more confused by the second.
Naruto wondered if it had something to do with this. His hand clenched instinctively, and suddenly, the familiar weight of the hand axe appeared in his palm. He blinked, staring at the weapon that just materialized out of nowhere.
"Okay, that's still a thing," he muttered, tossing the axe to the floor with a clatter. He glanced back at the status screen, checking again. This time, he noticed something new—two changes, actually.
[ R Weapon 1: 96 → 20 ]
[ Equip Load: 10.0 / 51.0 → 8.0 / 51.0 ]
R Weapon 1… that's the axe, Naruto realized. It corresponded to whatever he was holding in his right hand. But what was this Weapon 2 thing?
He grabbed a kitchen knife, holding it awkwardly alongside the axe. It felt strange, like he was holding two things he wasn't meant to. The balance was off. Maybe he had to say something?
"Two weapons?" Naruto tried aloud, feeling a bit stupid. "Items? My right hand?" Nothing.
"Equipment," he finally said, and to his surprise, another window opened.
[ Equipment ]
[ Select Item to Equip ]
Naruto's eyes flicked down the list as he placed the axe on the table. Okay, how do I select this weapon? he wondered, his mind racing to figure it out.
Using his left hand, Naruto grabbed the kitchen knife, holding it awkwardly as he tried to make sense of the situation. His gaze shifted between the knife in his hand and the system window still floating in front of him. He studied the options on the screen, trying to see if there was something obvious he'd missed.
[ Left Hand Weapon Slots: ]
[ Slot 1: Dull Kitchen Knife ]
Naruto did the same motion as before, clenching his fist, and this time, the knife appeared in his hand. He blinked, and with another motion, the axe was back. He swapped between them a few more times, the weight shifting in each hand with each switch.
"Huh. That's... kinda cool," he muttered to himself. His curiosity wasn't satisfied yet, though. What about the rest of his gear? He clicked on the armor slot. There was an option to change into his pyromancer outfit or remove it altogether.
[ Armour Slots: ]
[ Gauntlets: Orange Jacket ]
Gone was the scrawny, underfed kid he was used to seeing. Instead, he was staring at a body that was more toned, more muscular. His arms had definition, and his chest and shoulders were broader. His body wasn't huge, but it looked like it had been trained, sculpted.
When did this happen?
Naruto changed back into his normal clothes quickly, the jacket reappearing as if it had never left. The strangeness of it all still nagged at him.
Did the Furtive Pygmy create this system? Does Oscar have this? he wondered, but honestly, he had no idea. He shrugged it off. As cool as this system window was, it didn't give him much in the way of answers. No instructions. Just... this.
Naruto needed to find a way back to Oscar. But how?
He sighed and picked up the cup ramen carton to throw it away. As he walked to the garbage can, he opened his hand, ready to toss it—except the cup was already gone.
"Huh?"
Naruto frowned, glancing at his hand. Then it clicked.
Oh, if I grab something long enough, it goes into my inventory.
"That's actually kinda handy."
[ Inventory ]
— [ Consumables ]
— [ Item: Darksign ]
— [ Description: The Darksign signifies an accursed Undead. Those branded with it are reborn after death, but will one day lose their mind and go Hollow. Death triggers the Darksign, which returns its bearer to the last bonfire rested at, but at the cost of all humanity and souls. ]
Naruto was grateful. He didn't know which god was looking out for him, but whoever it was, he owed them one for showing him how to get back. The thought of returning to Oscar's side gnawed at him, but he knew he couldn't just rush in. Oscar was injured, and that demon was still there.
Let's just get some stuff before going back.
The boy stopped, realizing he had no idea what "stuff" he was even talking about. What was he supposed to grab?
He knew he needed explosive tags, but what about Oscar's injuries?
He scratched his head, trying to think it through.
Iruka-sensei. He'll know what to do.
Iruka's apartment wasn't much—modest, cramped, and barely enough for him to live in. Naruto had overheard other teachers talk about how this was all Iruka could afford on a teacher's salary, but he'd never really paid attention. Iruka-sensei always seemed fine with it. But tonight, Naruto needed his help, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something was… off.
When Naruto reached the block where the building was, he didn't even think about using the front door.
Old habits die hard, he guessed.
His body moved automatically, like it had a mind of its own. He leaped up to the nearest rooftop, his feet landing silently on the tiles. The cool night air whipped past his face, but it didn't slow him down. One rooftop to the next, his movements were quick, fluid. It felt so natural—almost like running on flat ground. He'd been doing this for years, sneaking around the village, jumping from one roof to another. It was second nature, like breathing.
Naruto darted through the shadows, his body blending in with the darkness. The moon was hidden behind a thick layer of clouds, making the night feel even darker than usual. Perfect for sneaking in unnoticed.
His feet barely made a sound as he landed on the roof of Iruka-sensei's building. His place was on the second floor, but that wasn't an issue. Naruto had climbed into his window more times than he could count, usually for pranks or to raid his fridge.
Naruto crouched low, making sure he wouldn't be seen from the street below. His eyes scanned the side of the building, locking onto the familiar window of Iruka's apartment. The window was slightly open, just like he expected.
Sensei, you've gotta work on your home defense.
He made his move, leaping across the narrow gap between the roof and the windowsill. His hands gripped the edge, and he pulled himself up without a sound. Sliding the window open just enough to slip through, Naruto crawled inside, making sure not to disturb anything.
The second his feet touched the wooden floor, Naruto froze. Years of sneaking around Konoha had taught him to always listen first. He held his breath, his ears straining for any sound. Nothing. It was quiet—too quiet. He glanced around the room—Iruka's small, simple apartment was just as he remembered it.
The bed was tucked in perfectly, no wrinkles in sight, but Naruto's eyes immediately zeroed in on something out of place—an orange Icha Icha novel lying on top of the bed. He shook his head, trying not to think about what that meant.
Iruka-sensei, really?
"Hey, Iruka-sensei, it's me! I need help with something!" Naruto called out, closing the window behind him. He didn't hear a response, so he moved deeper into the apartment, his feet barely making a sound on the wooden floor.
The blonde walked into the living room and stopped dead in his tracks. The room was filled with old, empty sake bottles scattered across the floor. And slouched on the couch, his head lolling to the side, was Iruka-sensei. His clothes were rumpled, his usually neat ponytail undone, hair hanging messily around his face. His cheeks were flushed red, and he was muttering something incoherent under his breath.
"What the hell...?"
The academy teacher looked like a complete mess. His normally sharp, caring eyes were glazed over, his lips moving sluggishly as he tried to speak.
"N-Naruto? That you?" His voice was slurred, barely more than a drunken mumble.
"Sensei, you stink," Naruto said, scrunching up his face in disgust as he pinched his nose to block out the strong smell of alcohol.
Iruka groaned from the couch, slurring his words. "Oh, is this… my time to die?"
"I need your help, not your funeral plans," he said, doing his best to ignore how out of it Iruka was.
Iruka lazily waved his hand. "Sure… sure… I'm Iruka," he hiccupped, "teacher after all..."
"Okay, so let's say I'm going to fight this demon the size of my house," Naruto said, leaning in a bit. "What kind of stuff do you think I should get?"
Iruka chuckled drunkenly, swaying a little in his seat. "Hahah… you know… how long I've been waiting for this?"
"Really?" Naruto raised an eyebrow, unsure if Iruka was serious or just drunk. But part of him still believed in him. Even in this state, Iruka-sensei was still awesome—just a little… off.
"Yeah, just… get my diary," Iruka mumbled, his words barely making sense as he tried to stand. Only, instead of standing, he fell face-first onto the floor with a loud thud.
Naruto sweatdropped, shaking his head.
"Where's your diary?" the boy asked, poking to check if the man was dead or not.
"My… drawer…" Iruka slurred, still face down on the floor.
With a sigh, Naruto summoned a shadow clone to grab the diary while he bent down to help Iruka off the ground. As he lifted him, Iruka's arm slung around his shoulders, and Naruto felt a mix of emotions—mostly exhaustion. The blonde boy settled the brown-haired man into the chair, taking a deep breath.
Okay, Naruto, focus. Get what you need, then get back to Oscar.
"Iruka-sensei, why are you drinking so much?" Naruto asked, his voice quieter than usual. He couldn't help it; seeing Iruka like this, all messed up, slurring his words—it didn't sit right with him. It was like watching someone who was always strong crumble right in front of him.
Iruka groaned, wiping his face with the back of his hand. "Because… because my best friend died," he muttered, his words heavy with emotion. Naruto blinked, trying to process what he meant. Best friend? Mizuki?
"Even though Mizuki was a traitor, we were friends for years," Iruka continued, tears beginning to roll down his cheeks. "That kind of bond… it doesn't just go away, even after betrayal." His voice cracked, and suddenly he was crying.
Iruka-sensei was crying.
Naruto felt a tightness in his chest, but it wasn't because of guilt.
The truth was, Naruto didn't feel anything about Mizuki's death. Not really. Mizuki was trying to kill him, so Naruto killed him first. That's just how it is, right?
It wasn't like Mizuki was some innocent person or a saint. If Naruto hadn't killed him, Mizuki would've killed him. Why should Naruto feel bad about stopping someone who was ready to end his life? Naruto had faced hollows and killed them without hesitation. Mizuki wasn't any different.
But seeing Iruka cry like this—that hurt. Why?
Naruto pushed those thoughts away, not wanting to get lost in them. One of his clones came back with Iruka's diary, and Naruto let out a small sigh of relief. He handed it to Iruka, trying to focus on something else, something that didn't involve death or guilt.
"Here you go, sensei."
Iruka took the diary, flipping it open to the first page. There was a picture—a family photo. He just stared at it, even in his drunken state. There was something so… sad in the way he looked at them, like it hurt just to remember.
"These are my parents, Naruto," he said softly.
Naruto didn't know what to say. "Oh," was all that came out.
"They were killed when the Kyuubi was released 12 years ago," Iruka said, his voice changing—less slurred, more sober, as if the alcohol had loosened its grip on him for a moment.
There was a long pause.
The silence stretched between them as Iruka stared at the picture. A few tears dripped down from his face and splashed onto the page.
"I miss you, Mom. I miss you, Dad," Iruka whispered, his fingers brushing over the image as if he could reach into the past and touch them again.
Naruto knew that the Kyuubi had killed Iruka's family—Mizuki had told him that long ago. But now, watching Iruka cry, the weight of what that really meant finally sank in. This wasn't just some distant story or a fact he'd brushed off. This was real. The pain on Iruka's face was because of the monster inside him.
Without even thinking, he opened his mouth. "Did you ever… blame me for their deaths?"
There was a long, awful silence, and then Iruka said the words Naruto had been dreading. "I did."
Naruto closed his eyes, fighting to keep the tears from coming, as if shutting out the world would make the pain less real.
"But then I got to know you… and I realized I was wrong. You weren't the Kyuubi. You weren't the one I should blame. I'm sorry… for realizing that too late."
Naruto didn't think. He didn't stop to process anything. He just hugged Iruka. He threw his arms around him, tears streaming down his face, soaking into Iruka's shirt. Naruto hugged him as tightly as he could, like if he let go, everything would fall apart.
"Thank you," Naruto managed to choke out between sobs, his voice cracking.
Naruto didn't care that Iruka was drunk. He didn't care that Mizuki was dead or that the village still saw him as the Kyuubi. Right now, the only thing that mattered was that Iruka-sensei—his Iruka-sensei—was still there, still on his side. And for the first time that night, Naruto didn't feel so alone.
Naruto quickly snapped back to the task at hand, wiping his face and trying to focus. There was no time to waste.
"Okay, Iruka-sensei, how do I beat a demon?"
Iruka looked at Naruto through bleary, half-lidded eyes, slurring his words. "Why would I know that?"
"What about your diary?"
"Oh… that…" Iruka muttered, rubbing his face. "When I was younger, I imagined how I'd magically save Konoha from the Kyuubi."
Naruto blinked. Really, sensei?
Even drunk, Iruka looked embarrassed by his own younger self. It was kind of funny in a way, but Naruto wasn't in the mood for jokes. He flipped through a few pages of the diary, scanning over Iruka's childhood fantasies of heroic battles.
This isn't what I need right now.
Naruto threw the book aside, muttering, "Oscar's strategies are better anyway."
Let's ask him this, he thought, pacing back and forth. "What do I do if I face an enemy that isn't affected by a swarm of clones coming at them all at once?"
"What?"
"Come on, sensei, I don't have time for this!"
"Is this the same demon?" Iruka asked, glancing at the bottles around him like he was trying to figure out if this conversation was even real.
"Yes!" he practically yelled. "Iruka-sensei!"
"Okay, okay, not so loud," he groaned, rubbing his temples as if my voice was pounding in his head. He closed his eyes for a second, thinking, and I could tell he was trying to pull himself together, at least enough to give me a straight answer.
Finally, he spoke, his tone more serious. "Alright… if your enemy isn't reacting to clones, you're probably coming at them too predictably. Don't just rush in all at once, especially if they can read your movements. Mix things up—send the clones in waves, scatter them, create a distraction before the real attack. And never rely on just clones. You need to use your environment, your jutsu, your speed, everything you've got to make them vulnerable."
His clones scribbled everything down as Iruka finished talking. Naruto was already digesting the advice, thinking of how he could put it into action.
"Okay, Iruka-sensei, if someone got smacked by something big, like the size of this room, how would you treat them?"
Iruka slurred, barely paying attention. "They'd be dead…"
"No!" Naruto shouted, his voice loud and frantic, startling Iruka. "He is not dead. Just—tell me what to do!"
Iruka blinked, looking at Naruto like he was crazy before rubbing his temples. "Okay, okay… let me think." He groaned, mumbling to himself, still not fully sober. "Bring a medical ninja?"
Naruto clenched his fists. "There's none. I'm all he's got."
That seemed to sober Iruka up a little. He frowned, his face growing serious. "What are the injuries?"
"I don't know exactly," Naruto admitted, feeling his stomach drop.
"Hit by something big?"
"Please, Iruka-sensei, there has to be a way!" Naruto's voice was desperate, like he was grasping for anything, for some piece of advice that could save Oscar.
I can't lose him. Not after everything.
Iruka scratched his head, his words starting to make more sense.
"Maybe try bringing some platelet-boost pills to stop the bleeding, endorphin pills for the pain… Wrap some clean cloth around the wounds to keep them stable. Feed them nutritional pills to keep them alive until medical help comes."
Naruto's clones scribbled down every word like their lives depended on it. Naruto nodded.
This was something. At least now he had a plan.
"That weird flask… it does the job of a medical ninja, right?" Naruto asked, thinking of the Estus flask Oscar had used to heal him earlier. His clones nodded.
Good. That'll help, at least.
"Great. Now, sensei, where can I buy these pills? And where can I get explosive and flashbang bombs?"
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