Chapter 58: The Inheritance of the Sage
The forest clearing where the Tailed Beasts resided was quieter than usual.
It was not the uneasy silence of suspicion, nor the tense hush before battle. It was something far rarer.
Anticipation.
Naruto stood at the edge of the enormous, shifting domains where each Bijuu had shaped the land to their liking. The air shimmered with immense chakra, yet there was no hostility in it—only watchfulness.
Behind him stood the four who had agreed to step forward.
Hinata.
Tenten.
Sakura.
Shino.
Four very different hearts. Four very different paths.
Naruto cleared his throat, scratching his cheek in that familiar, slightly awkward way of his.
"So… yeah. The others aren't interested right now. But these four wanted to meet you. And I'll keep looking for more candidates too."
The Bijuu regarded them with ancient eyes.
Naruto's tone shifted—gentler, steadier.
"There's something else. The Sage left behind a seal. It only works if both sides truly trust each other. Not just cooperation. Not convenience. Absolute trust. Life-and-death level."
A murmur rippled across the massive beasts.
For beings who had spent centuries imprisoned, betrayed, weaponized—
That mattered.
Kokuo's deep voice hummed thoughtfully. Matatabi's flames dimmed into a softer glow. Saiken's antennae twitched in approval.
The idea that a vessel could not simply seize control… that the bond must be mutual…
It eased something old and wounded in them.
Naruto continued.
"It means you'll need time together. No rushing. No forcing it. You'll have to spend real time with each other."
The shinobi exchanged glances. None stepped back.
Good.
Naruto smiled faintly.
"Alright. You guys can talk privately. No pressure."
And with that, he withdrew.
-----------------------------
Chōmei's domain shimmered like a floating meadow of crystalline pollen and warm summer light. Massive leaves arched overhead like cathedral ceilings, and faint sparkles drifted through the air as if the atmosphere itself were cheerful.
Shino Aburame stepped into it without hesitation.
His long coat did not flutter. His expression did not shift.
Only his insects stirred beneath his sleeves, reacting to the unfamiliar environment.
Chōmei descended with a bright hum, her enormous rhinoceros-beetle form glittering in iridescent hues.
She circled him once.
Twice.
Then landed with a light tremor.
"You look cool," she declared immediately.
Shino adjusted his glasses.
"I am aware that my aesthetic presentation is unconventional."
She tilted her head.
"Unconventional is good!"
She leaned closer, compound eyes narrowing curiously.
"Why bugs?"
It was not an accusation.
It was genuine wonder.
"Do you not find them unpleasant? Slimy? Creepy? Hairy?"
Shino did not hesitate.
"I was born into their presence," he said calmly. "Therefore, I never categorized them as unpleasant."
Chōmei blinked.
He continued.
"Insects possess the greatest potential of all living organisms. Their adaptability, reproductive speed, structural diversity… their evolutionary scale is unmatched."
A faint vibration passed through his sleeves as his kikaichū stirred.
"My limitations are not due to the insects. They are due to my chakra reserves and reach."
Chōmei hovered in silence.
Then—
She laughed.
Not mockingly.
Delighted.
"That's the first time I've heard someone talk about bugs like that!"
Her wings flared, scattering harmless golden dust that glimmered in the air.
"You didn't say you wanted my power."
Shino inclined his head slightly.
"I am already aware that your power would be immense."
His tone did not change.
"But raw power without application lacks meaning."
Chōmei's eyes sparkled.
"What would you do when we fuse?"
There was no dramatic pause.
No fantasy of grandeur.
Shino answered as though discussing laboratory plans.
"I would evolve my arsenal."
A pause.
"And collect more."
Silence hung in the glowing meadow.
Then Chōmei burst into excited laughter again, buzzing upward in loops of energy.
"Adventure!"
She spun mid-air.
"We can travel the world! There are insects in deserts! In jungles! In frozen mountains! I've seen glowing ones in caves!"
Her wings hummed faster.
"You don't just want to fight. You want to explore."
Shino's lips moved almost imperceptibly.
"Correct."
She drifted closer, her enormous presence somehow less intimidating now.
"Then I'm all for it."
She lowered slightly so they were eye-level.
"Let's evolve together."
Shino nodded once.
"Agreed."
Underneath his sleeves, thousands of tiny insects stirred—not in agitation, but in anticipation.
-----------------------------
Saiken's domain did not roar like Son Gokū's volcanic fields, nor shimmer like Chōmei's bright meadow.
It was quiet.
Soft.
A vast, mist-laced marshland where pale pools reflected a sky the color of pearl. The air carried a faint scent of minerals and damp earth. It felt less like a battlefield and more like a laboratory waiting to be used.
Sakura Haruno stepped forward without flinching.
Across from her rose Saiken, the Six-Tails—her enormous, pale body glistening faintly, antennae swaying with slow intelligence. She did not loom threateningly. She observed.
Carefully.
"I know about you," Saiken said at last, her voice low and smooth, like water sliding over stone. "Naruto speaks of you often. Head healer of Konoha Hospital."
There was no sarcasm in her tone.
Only assessment.
"That is… a wonderful role. It pairs well with my own abilities."
Sakura nodded politely. "Thank you."
Saiken's eyes narrowed slightly.
"I requested to meet you," she continued. "But tell me honestly—do you truly need my power? My chakra is vast. It will disrupt your system. Your control may suffer for a time."
She tilted her massive head.
"Would you accept becoming weaker before you become stronger?"
It was not a trap.
It was a test.
Sakura did not answer immediately.
She looked at the vast marshland, then back at the colossal slug before her.
Strangely… she felt at ease.
Perhaps it was because she had long worked beside Lady Katsuyu. The presence of a massive slug did not unsettle her. Perhaps it was because, after facing the Juubi and Kaguya herself, even a Tailed Beast no longer felt incomprehensible.
Or perhaps—
It was because her fear had already burned out in the war.
When she finally spoke, her voice was steady.
"I don't mind rebuilding my skills."
Saiken's antennae twitched.
"What I have now is limited," Sakura continued quietly. "Healing civilians. Patching wounds. Performing surgeries."
Her hands clenched slightly at her sides.
"That isn't the problem of this world."
Saiken leaned closer.
"The problem," Sakura said, her green eyes sharpening, "is enemies the entire world together cannot defeat."
A silence settled between them.
Saiken studied her carefully now—not her posture, not her chakra—but her eyes.
There was something there.
A blade beneath glass.
"What do you intend to do with my power?" Saiken asked softly.
Sakura did not hesitate this time.
"I intend to create viruses."
The marsh seemed to grow stiller.
"Pathogens," Sakura clarified. "Controlled. Designed. Weaponized."
Saiken's eyes narrowed further.
"You would infect your enemies?"
"Yes."
Her tone did not waver.
"Even if the Ōtsutsuki are powerful, they are not scholars of medicine. They do not understand cellular systems the way we do. I intend to use that."
She met Saiken's gaze without blinking.
"I will destroy them from the inside."
For the first time in centuries—
Saiken felt unsettled.
It was not rage.
It was not cruelty.
It was clarity.
No trembling. No blind ambition. No desire for chaos.
Just calculation.
"Are you not afraid," Saiken asked slowly, "of a viral outburst?"
Sakura's expression softened slightly.
"If I can create the virus," she replied calmly, "I can create the cure."
A pause.
"I am not careless."
Saiken exhaled slowly, mist curling around her.
"You do not crave my power for dominance," she observed.
"No," Sakura said.
"You crave tools."
"Yes."
Saiken's antennae rose thoughtfully.
"You think in systems. In balances. In countermeasures."
Sakura's lips curved faintly.
"Raw power loses to preparation."
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then Saiken gave a low, thoughtful hum.
"I dislike simple minds," she admitted. "Creatures who only wish to smash and roar."
A faint ripple passed through the marshland.
"That is why I asked for you… and Tsunade."
Sakura's eyes widened slightly. "You considered Lady Tsunade?"
"I did."
Saiken's tone was almost amused.
"But she belongs to the laboratory, not the battlefield. You…"
She leaned closer.
"You belong to both."
Sakura felt something stir in her chest.
Not insecurity.
Not the old fear of being left behind.
Recognition.
"I'll need time," Sakura said. "To adjust. To refine control."
Saiken's eyes softened.
"I am patient."
A beat passed.
Then, almost shyly, Sakura added, "You could… visit the hospital."
Saiken blinked.
"Visit?"
"Yes. We treat complex illnesses daily. You could observe. Help. Learn how human pathogens behave. It might improve both of us."
Saiken had not expected that.
"You would bring a Tailed Beast into your hospital?"
Sakura smiled slightly.
"You're less destructive than some of my interns."
For the first time, a faint ripple of laughter vibrated through Saiken's enormous body.
"You are bold."
"Only when necessary."
The mist in the marsh shifted, lighter now.
"Very well," Saiken said at last. "We will… spend time together."
Not a vow.
Not yet.
But the beginning of one.
"And Sakura," Saiken added quietly, "if you ever lose control of what you create… I will remind you of balance."
Sakura nodded.
"That's fair."
------------------------------
Matatabi's domain was not like the others.
Where Saiken's world had been mist and quiet reflection, this place shimmered with blue fire that did not burn. The ground was black glass, smooth and mirror-like, reflecting the twin tails of azure flame that swayed behind the great two-tailed cat. Sparks drifted lazily through the air like fireflies, humming faintly with warmth rather than destruction.
Hinata stood at the edge of the clearing, hands folded gently before her, waiting as requested.
Matatabi had asked her to.
"I will speak with the other girl first," the great feline had said in her deep, resonant voice. "This choice cannot be rushed."
And so Hinata waited—quiet, respectful.
Tenten stepped forward.
She did not bow.
She did not shrink.
She stood tall, chin lifted, brown eyes sharp and assessing.
For a moment, neither spoke.
The air between them shimmered with heatless flame.
Matatabi lowered her massive head slightly, studying her.
"You remind me," Matatabi began softly, "of someone."
Tenten's brow furrowed. "Your previous jinchūriki?"
A faint flicker passed through Matatabi's flames.
"Yes."
There was no elaboration.
Only memory.
Tenten crossed her arms loosely. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"It is not insult," Matatabi replied calmly. "But neither is it praise."
Silence stretched between them again.
Tenten exhaled slowly. "I won't pretend. I see what you can do. Your flames burn without destroying structure. Your chakra is stable. Dense. You could temper metals that even chakra steel fails to reinforce."
Her eyes gleamed—not greedily, but with hunger.
"I want to build weapons for the new era. Weapons that can hurt the Ōtsutsuki. Seals embedded in blades. Chakra-reactive armor. Tools worthy of gods."
Matatabi's tail flicked once.
"You speak of forging."
"Yes."
"You speak of innovation."
"Yes."
"You do not speak of companionship."
The words fell gently.
But they landed heavily.
Tenten stiffened.
"I—"
She stopped.
She hadn't.
Not really.
Matatabi's luminous eyes softened—not with pity, but clarity.
"You look at me," the great cat continued, "and you see improvement. Amplification. A method."
Tenten's jaw tightened.
"That's not fair."
"Is it not?"
The flames around them flickered brighter for a moment, then calmed.
"I do not sense malice within you," Matatabi said carefully. "You are not cruel. You are not corrupted."
Her voice grew quieter.
"But you are burdened."
The word hung there.
Tenten's breath caught.
"I am not depressed," she said quickly. Too quickly.
Matatabi did not react.
"You carry anger," the cat continued gently. "Regret. A blade that cuts inward."
Neji's name was not spoken.
It did not need to be.
Tenten felt heat rise behind her eyes—but not from Matatabi's flames.
"I worked through that," she said, more quietly now.
"You buried it," Matatabi corrected.
The statement was not harsh.
It was observational.
Tenten's hands curled into fists.
"I'm fine."
Matatabi's tails lowered slightly.
"You are strong," she said. "Capable. Intelligent."
A pause.
"But you are not sound of mind."
The words struck harder than any physical blow.
Tenten felt something inside her twist sharply.
Not because they were cruel.
But because they were true enough to hurt.
"I want a partner," Matatabi said softly, "who sees me as a being. Not a furnace."
Tenten's throat tightened.
"I don't—"
"You do."
Another silence.
Tenten's eyes burned—not from flame, but humiliation.
She had thought she was composed. Balanced. Past the worst of her grief.
And yet—
A creature older than nations had looked at her once and seen straight through the armor.
"I would not thrive within your current storm," Matatabi finished quietly. "And you would not thrive with mine."
For a heartbeat, Tenten considered arguing.
For a heartbeat, she considered insisting.
Instead—
She turned sharply.
"Understood."
Her voice was clipped.
Controlled.
Too controlled.
She did not look at Hinata as she walked past her. Did not look at Naruto in the distance.
She left quickly.
Too quickly.
The blue flames dimmed slightly.
Matatabi watched her go.
There was no triumph in her gaze.
Only sadness.
Hinata stepped forward hesitantly. "Was she… unsuitable?"
Matatabi's eyes remained on the path Tenten had taken.
"No," she said softly.
"She is very suitable."
Hinata blinked in confusion.
"Then why—?"
"Because suitability is not enough."
Matatabi exhaled, a long, shimmering sigh of blue light.
"She must forge herself first."
The flames flickered gently around the clearing.
"I would not be her cure," the two-tailed cat murmured.
"I would be her distraction."
And somewhere beyond the clearing, Tenten walked quickly through the trees, blinking furiously at tears she refused to let fall.
----------------------------------
The clearing had grown quieter after Tenten's hurried departure.
The blue flames no longer flared high; instead, they drifted low and steady, casting long, wavering shadows across the glass-like ground. The air hummed softly, warm but not oppressive, like the comfort of a hearth at dusk.
Hinata stepped forward.
She did not rush.
She did not tremble—at least not visibly.
Matatabi lowered herself gracefully, her enormous body folding with the elegance of royalty rather than the heaviness of a beast. Her twin tails curled around her paws, and for a moment, she looked less like a creature of legend and more like a great lioness resting in her own dominion.
"You waited patiently," Matatabi observed.
"Yes," Hinata replied softly. "You asked me to."
The flames flickered gently around them.
Matatabi studied her in silence.
Where Tenten had stood firm and sharp, Hinata stood composed and luminous. There was no hard edge to her. No storm pressing against the surface.
But there was fire.
Subtle.
Steady.
"You have an affinity for flame," Matatabi murmured.
Hinata blinked in surprise. "I… do?"
"You burn quietly," Matatabi clarified. "Not like an explosion. Like embers."
Hinata lowered her gaze shyly at the compliment.
Matatabi's golden eyes softened.
"You do not like fighting," the great cat said.
Hinata nodded. "No."
"You do not seek battle."
"No."
"You would rather avoid conflict."
"Yes."
Matatabi's tails swayed slowly.
"Good."
Hinata looked up, startled.
"You are surprised?" Matatabi asked gently.
"A little," Hinata admitted.
"I have carried too many who sought war," Matatabi replied, her voice lowering with ancient weariness. "Stoic warriors. Hungry for combat. They burned brightly and briefly."
Her gaze turned distant for a moment.
"I do not dislike strength. But I dislike needless struggle."
The blue flames around them dimmed, becoming calm and serene.
"I prefer warmth. Sunlight. Resting beneath a tree after a meal," she added, almost thoughtfully. "Like a proper lion."
Hinata couldn't help it—she smiled faintly.
The image of a colossal flaming tiger lazily lounging like a pampered housecat was unexpectedly charming.
Matatabi caught the smile.
"And you," she continued, leaning slightly closer, "carry love in your eyes."
Hinata froze.
Her cheeks flushed instantly.
"I—!"
Matatabi's tails twitched with unmistakable amusement.
"Yes," she purred. "That."
Hinata turned scarlet.
"You look at Naruto as though he is the sun itself."
Hinata's hands flew to her face.
"M-Matatabi-sama!"
"I am not blind," the two-tailed beast said calmly. "And I am not uninterested."
Hinata slowly lowered her hands, still blushing furiously.
Matatabi's expression grew thoughtful.
"I am female," she said simply. "I have lived centuries watching humans fight, conquer, betray, destroy."
Her eyes glowed softly.
"I would very much like to observe something different for once."
Hinata tilted her head slightly.
"Different?"
"A love story," Matatabi said.
The word hung gently between them.
Hinata's blush deepened.
"I wish to feel positive emotion," Matatabi continued. "Not rage. Not hatred. Not ambition."
Her tails curled closer around her.
"I wish to see a lioness claim her chosen."
Hinata made a small, startled sound.
"M-me?"
"Yes, you."
Matatabi leaned forward slightly, her massive head lowering until they were nearly eye level.
"You are soft. You are kind. You are elegant in your posture, in your steps."
Hinata instinctively straightened, though she had not realized she had been slouching.
"You carry yourself like royalty," Matatabi said.
Hinata swallowed.
"I am only a branch family member."
Matatabi's eyes sharpened.
"Titles do not determine royalty. Presence does."
The words landed with surprising weight.
Hinata steadied her breathing.
"I… want to protect my friends," she said quietly. "I want to stand beside Naruto."
Her fingers curled gently in front of her.
"Not behind him. Not as someone who needs saving."
She lifted her pale eyes, meeting the beast's gaze with rare firmness.
"And I want to understand the bond he has with Kurama."
That caught Matatabi's attention.
"Oh?"
"Yes," Hinata continued softly. "He trusts Kurama. And Kurama trusts him."
Her voice warmed slightly.
"They are not prisoner and jailer. They are partners."
She hesitated.
"I would like to know what that feels like."
Matatabi watched her for a long moment.
Not judging.
Measuring.
Feeling.
There was no sharp hunger in Hinata's heart.
No desperation.
Only quiet resolve.
And affection.
Matatabi's tails rose slightly behind her.
"I accept."
Hinata blinked.
"R-really?"
"Yes."
The flames around them brightened gently—not in destruction, but in warmth.
"But," Matatabi added, and her tone shifted into something sly and regal.
Hinata stiffened slightly.
"I expect something in return."
Hinata swallowed. "O-of course."
Matatabi's eyes gleamed.
"If you are to be my partner," she said, "you will not cower in love."
Hinata's blush returned instantly.
"You will not hide behind shyness."
"M-Matatabi-sama…"
"You will act," Matatabi declared firmly.
Her tails flicked decisively.
"I expect a lioness."
Hinata's heart pounded loudly in her ears.
"A lioness…?"
"Yes."
"Y-you mean…"
"Yes."
Hinata covered her face again.
"I cannot simply—"
"You can," Matatabi interrupted calmly. "You have fought wars."
Her gaze sharpened.
"And yet you fear being aggressive in love?"
Hinata peeked between her fingers.
"That's different…"
Matatabi's rumbling chuckle echoed through the clearing.
"Child," she said gently, "battle is simple. Love requires courage."
The blue flames shimmered brighter.
"I will not spend eternity inside a vessel who refuses to chase what she wants."
Hinata slowly lowered her hands.
Her heart trembled.
But somewhere beneath the shyness—
Something stirred.
A spark.
"I… will try," she whispered.
Matatabi studied her one final time.
"That is acceptable."
Her voice softened again.
"And," Matatabi added, her tails swaying lazily once more, "I expect updates."
Hinata's composure shattered.
"M-Matatabi-sama!"
The clearing echoed with the soft, amused rumble of a giant, ancient, flaming lioness—who, for the first time in centuries, felt rather pleased with her choice.
--------------------------------
The clearing shifted as the conversations concluded.
Where once there had been scattered whispers and private exchanges, now the great beasts gathered together, their enormous forms casting long shadows across the carved mountain sanctuary Naruto had shaped for them.
The air felt expectant.
Shino stood calmly at Chōmei's side, hands tucked into his coat as if discussing the weather rather than eternal partnerships. Sakura stood straight-backed beside Saiken, eyes sharp and thoughtful, already calculating possibilities. Hinata remained near Matatabi, posture elegant but heart fluttering wildly in her chest.
Naruto stepped forward.
Kurama's presence flickered behind him like a golden sun at dusk.
The other beasts quieted.
Even Son Gokū folded his massive arms and snorted, though he pretended not to be listening too closely.
"There's something else," Naruto said.
He scratched the back of his head—a familiar gesture that belied the weight of what he was about to say.
"Ever since Kurama and I used that new seal…"
His voice trailed.
Kurama's chakra flared gently, and the fox manifested behind him—vast, regal, and glowing with restrained power.
"I remembered something," Kurama rumbled.
All eyes turned to him.
"The old man," he continued, meaning their father—the Sage of Six Paths. "He did not merely create us and send us into the world."
The clearing grew still.
"He prepared something."
Naruto nodded.
"A sanctuary," he said. "A place he designed specifically for you all."
Saiken shifted slightly, her soft body rippling with interest.
"For us?" she asked.
"Yes," Kurama replied. "For when you found your chosen partners."
A murmur passed through the beasts like wind through leaves.
"The abilities we possess now," Kurama continued, "are not complete."
Matatabi's twin tails stilled.
"Not complete?" she echoed softly.
"No," Kurama said, his red eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "The old man designed deeper abilities for us—forms and powers that would only awaken when we truly fused with humans in the way he intended."
The word hung in the air.
Intended.
Naruto stepped forward again.
"If you want to become what the Sage envisioned… you and your partners will have to enter that sanctuary together."
There was silence.
A deep, ancient silence.
Kokuō lowered her noble head slightly, absorbing the meaning.
"So," she said calmly, "our father foresaw this path."
"Yes," Kurama answered.
Chōmei buzzed excitedly in the air.
"That means more adventures!" she chirped. "Secret temples! Ancient puzzles! Ooooh, I love it already!"
Shino adjusted his glasses almost imperceptibly.
"This implies," he said evenly, "that our current state is only an early stage of evolution."
Chōmei sparkled.
"Exactly!"
Sakura's eyes gleamed faintly.
"Abilities designed by Hagoromo Ōtsutsuki himself…" she murmured. "That's not something to ignore."
Saiken hummed approvingly.
Hinata glanced at Matatabi.
A deeper bond.
A trial.
A test not of strength—but of trust.
Matatabi's gaze softened.
"Then we will prepare," she said.
But not all of them were calm.
Isobu had retreated halfway into his shell, peering out with wide, uncertain eyes.
"Incomplete…" he repeated quietly.
The word unsettled him.
He had chosen isolation. Safety. Distance from humans. From pain.
And yet…
He had watched the others.
The way Chōmei laughed with Shino.
The way Saiken examined Sakura like a mentor testing a student.
The way Matatabi's flames burned warmer near Hinata.
Isobu's claws tapped lightly against the stone.
He had told himself he preferred solitude.
But something tugged at him now.
A quiet ache.
"Father wanted this…" he murmured to himself.
Nearby, Son Gokū snorted loudly.
"Hmph."
His enormous tail lashed once.
"I don't need a human to complete me."
His voice was gruff, but not dismissive.
"I can gain strength on my own."
Naruto didn't argue.
He didn't push.
He simply looked at him.
"You probably could," Naruto said honestly.
That made Son Gokū blink.
"I mean it," Naruto added. "You're already ridiculously strong."
The great ape's lips twitched faintly.
"But," Naruto continued gently, "the Sage didn't create you to be alone."
Silence.
Son Gokū's fiery aura flickered.
Power was simple to him.
Punch harder.
Burn hotter.
Break mountains.
But now…
There was something else.
A trial not of fists—but of heart.
He did not like it.
Which was perhaps why it lingered.
Kokuō stepped forward slightly, her calm presence steady as a mountain.
"Our father always thought long-term," she said. "If he prepared this sanctuary, then it is not a whim."
Saiken nodded.
"It is a path."
Isobu's shell creaked softly as he shifted again.
"I… would like to see it," he admitted, barely audible.
Chōmei buzzed happily.
"See? See? No one wants to be left out!"
Son Gokū grunted but did not disagree.
Naruto exhaled slowly.
Relief flickered through him.
He had worried this revelation might cause division.
Instead—
It deepened the stakes.
Kurama's voice rumbled again.
"The sanctuary will not open for beast alone," he warned. "Nor for human alone."
"It requires both," Naruto finished.
Shino inclined his head.
"Then logically, the stronger the bond, the greater the probability of success."
Life-and-death partners.
Not weapons.
Not tools.
Family.
Matatabi's flames flared softly, warm and proud.
The weight of the Sage's design settled over them all.
This was not merely a defensive measure.
It was inheritance.
Legacy.
A father's final hope for his children.
Naruto looked around at the beasts and the shinobi standing beside them.
"We're not rushing it," he said firmly. "Take your time. Build your bonds."
His eyes softened.
"When you're ready… we'll enter the sanctuary together."