บท 8: Chapter 8
Naruto stepped out of the shower, the steam still swirling behind him, clinging to the small confines of his apartment bathroom. His lips curved into a smile, a slight, unsettling grin that barely reached his eyes. He was replaying the scene over and over again in his mind — the way he had killed the Cloud ninja without hesitation, the smoothness of his movements, the effortless precision with which he decapitated his enemies. Every time the memory replayed, a surge of adrenaline coursed through him, mixing with an intoxicating dose of dopamine.
Killing had been easier than he thought. Not just easy — it had been exhilarating.
Still dripping water, Naruto walked through his small apartment, the cold tiles beneath his feet bringing him back to the present. His body, though still that of a child by all standards, bore no resemblance to the soft, chubby form of a typical three-year-old. His rigorous training, coupled with the destructive force of his hand-to-hand combat, had sculpted his small frame into a compact powerhouse of muscle. His abdomen, where a normal child would still have baby fat, was instead lined with faint abs — a result of the intense conditioning he had put himself through.
After grabbing a towel, he dried himself off quickly, his movements mechanical and efficient, not wasting a second longer than necessary. He tossed the towel aside carelessly and slid into a pair of cargo shorts. They hung loosely on his small frame, but he made no effort to pull them tighter. The sense of control he had over his own body was enough; appearances were secondary.
In the kitchen, he stepped onto a wooden stool to reach the stove, his small stature requiring such measures. He flipped a steak onto the heated pan, watching as the meat sizzled, the aroma filling the tiny space. Cooking had become a skill of necessity. He didn't rely on anyone — especially not the villagers, who would sooner spit on him than offer him a helping hand. His life was his own, and he controlled every aspect of it with cold calculation.
(Pic here ---->)
Once the steak was cooked to his liking, he hopped down from the stool and took a seat at his small dining table. The savory meat was good, flavorful, but nothing special. He ate in silence, savoring each bite, not for the taste, but for the sensation of control it gave him — the fact that every action, every decision was his own. It grounded him, kept him focused.
After finishing his meal, Naruto wiped his mouth and pushed the plate aside, his mind already elsewhere. The thrill of the kill still hummed through his veins. He had tasted the rush of power, the godlike sensation of deciding who lived and who died, and it was addictive. But he knew better than to let it control him. His emotions, his desires, everything had to be kept in check if he wanted to stay ahead of the people who would love nothing more than to see him fail. His mind, as young as it was, functioned like a machine — cold, calculating, always thinking three steps ahead.
Satisfied with the evening's events, Naruto lay back on his bed. His small form disappeared into the oversized sheets, but his mind was anything but small. Focusing on the familiar pull in his consciousness, he slipped into his mindscape. The dark, watery depths of his mind rippled, and he found himself in front of the enormous iron cage that held the nine-tailed beast, Kurama.
Kurama's massive form lay coiled, his red-orange fur billowing around him like a blazing inferno. His eyes, glowing with ancient power, flicked open as Naruto approached.
"Hey, Kurama," Naruto greeted, his voice steady and calm, masking the storm of emotions that had been brewing inside him. He smiled — but it wasn't the warm, innocent smile of a child. It was a mask, perfectly crafted, designed to conceal the calculating mind behind it.
Kurama, sensing the undercurrent of coldness in the boy, sighed heavily. "Brat..." the great beast grumbled, his deep voice echoing through the cavernous space of Naruto's mindscape.
Naruto tilted his head, his smile widening slightly. "What's with the tone? You don't sound happy to see me."
Kurama's eyes narrowed as he looked at the blond boy. "Why would I be happy to see you?" the fox growled, his tone both irritated and resigned.
"Because you love me," Naruto replied, his voice light and playful, the same childish smile stretching across his face, though the words were laced with a hidden truth that only Kurama could sense. The boy was toying with him, and Kurama knew it. But something about the brat was different — colder, more detached than before.
Kurama snorted, turning his massive head away and wrapping himself in his tails, as if to shield himself from the boy's probing gaze. He didn't know how to deal with this boy, ever since he felt the boy had his first kill, the boy changed slightly. The brat had always been annoying, but this... this new calculated coldness unsettled even the Nine-Tails.
Naruto, undeterred, slipped through the bars of the cage, something no jinchūriki should be able to do, and climbed up onto one of Kurama's tails. The fox froze, startled by the boy's boldness.
Naruto climbed up higher until he sat perched on top of Kurama's head, his small hands gripping the fox's fur as he peered down into Kurama's glowing eyes.
"Hey, Kurama," Naruto began, his voice once again innocent and curious. "Are you a boy or a girl?"
The question, simple as it was, caught the great beast off guard. "Brat, you're annoying," Kurama grumbled, though there was no real malice in his tone. "But let me tell you this once: I'm neither. I'm pure chakra, created by the Sage of Six Paths when he split the Ten-Tails into nine separate entities with yin and yang release."
Naruto's eyes widened in feigned surprise. "The Sage of Six Paths? Like the stories?"
Kurama huffed. "He's no story. He's real, brat. Now leave me alone."
But Naruto wasn't done. He was never done when there was more to learn. He gripped Kurama's fur tighter, holding on as the great beast tried to shake him off, but Naruto was determined.
"Kurama," Naruto said suddenly, his tone shifting. There was no more playfulness, no more childish innocence. His voice was cold, serious, cutting through the silence. "Do you know sealing tecniques?"
Kurama, startled by the sudden change in the boy's demeanor, stopped moving and looked up at him. "Why do you ask?" Kurama's voice was wary, cautious.
Naruto's eyes, icy and calculating, stared down at the fox. "Because I want to make this place nicer for you."
The sentiment was kind, and yet... it wasn't. Kurama could feel it — the boy wasn't offering kindness out of genuine affection. It was a calculated move, a way to gain more power, more control. But the fox, touched despite himself, sighed.
"Yes," Kurama muttered. "I know many seals. I've been sealed countless times over the centuries, in multiple jinchūriki. I know how to create them, and I know how to break them and the hardest of them to break is the one the Uzumaki created, the one you have right now."
Naruto's cold, calculating gaze didn't waver. "Good," he said simply. "Teach me."
Kurama hesitated. Teaching the brat sealing techniques would give him even more power — power that could one day be used against him. But at the same time, this brat had shown him a kind of respect, a willingness to work together. And Kurama, though prideful, wasn't blind to the potential Naruto had.
"Fine," Kurama growled. "But it won't be easy. Stand in front of me."
Naruto complied without hesitation, standing still as Kurama's enormous claw reached out and touched his forehead. "I'm going to teach you the basic knowledge of sealing to you. You'll feel pain — more than you've ever felt before. But bear it. The knowledge you gain will be worth it."
Naruto nodded, his eyes cold and determined. Pain meant nothing to him, not anymore.
As soon as Kurama's chakra surged into Naruto's mind, the boy's entire body seized with agony. His mindscape began to crack and shatter as the intense knowledge of seals poured into his brain, every symbol, every technique burning itself into his consciousness like molten lava. His vision blurred, and his knees buckled, but Naruto didn't scream. He didn't cry out. He endured it all, the searing, soul-crushing pain that threatened to tear him apart.
And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the pain stopped. Naruto's mindscape returned to normal, the cracks mending themselves as his body collapsed onto the floor of his apartment. He was drenched in sweat, his breathing ragged, but his eyes — his cold, calculating eyes — burned with a new fire.
He had the knowledge now. The power of sealing was his to wield.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, Naruto slowly sat up, his mind already racing with possibilities. Without wasting any time, he pulled out a scroll and began practicing. His small hands moved with a precision that belied his age, drawing complex symbols and seals with perfect accuracy. The night wore on, but Naruto didn't stop. The hunger for power, for control, consumed him, driving him forward.
He would master sealing. He would master everything.
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