The morning is crisp, a cool mist clinging to the ground as we roll through the trees. Tazuna clings to the back of the Gullwing, grumbling under his breath every time we jolt over a root or dip. The genin flit through the branches overhead, Kakashi leading at an easy pace—until—
Whump.
A hard jerk—something yanks the Gullwing out from under us. There's a sharp metallic twang and then we're airborne, both me and Tazuna flailing, gravity suddenly all wrong.
Before I can yell, a gray blur—Kakashi—snags us both, halting our arc just enough to keep us from splattering on the forest floor. A beat later he lets go and we tumble down. Not gently but alive. I hit the dirt with a grunt, rolling once before catching myself.
"Why the hell'd you—" I start, only to freeze at the look on Kakashi's face.
Metal glints, chains whip, and suddenly—he's caught, arms and legs bound tight in spiked, gleaming links. Before anyone can even shout, the chains snap taut. Kakashi's body jerks, then—shhk—blood sprays, the sound sharp and wet. He's ripped to shreds before our eyes, pieces scattering through a mist of blood.
Everything stops. Sakura gasps, a raw, high sound. Naruto just stares, eyes wide, mouth moving but no words coming out. Sasuke's already shifting his weight, face locked and pale. Tazuna is frozen, knuckles white on his pack.
I spin, heart hammering, as two figures step out of the brush. Both in ragged, mottled cloaks, metal gauntlets bristling with wicked chains, each end connected to the other's gauntlet. On their headbands, four sideways tilde marks.
"One down," the first one snarls, voice cold. "Now, for the rest."
The other grins, snapping their chain at Naruto. The links whistle through the air—Naruto just stands there, shocked.
Sasuke moves, fast. He flings a shuriken, catching the chain and pinning it to a tree with a clink. Before they can recover, Sasuke's already moving, a kunai in his other hand—thunk, he tosses it through the links, wedging them even tighter to the tree.
The two attackers whip around, but Sasuke's in their faces. He leaps past them, planting a foot on one man's chest and the other on his partner's shoulder, wrenching both chains with a savage twist. Metal groans—then snap, the chains tear free from both gauntlets, and Sasuke lands light as a cat, both enemies staggering back.
The broken chain dangles, useless now.
For a second, nobody moves—then the two enemy ninja bare their teeth, hate burning in their eyes.
I scramble for my propulsion cannon, yanking it out of my inventory as my heart pounds in my ears. Sakura's already moved, putting herself between me, Tazuna, and the enemy—arms spread, knees bent, determined and terrified.
"Propulsion Cannon: safety protocols disengaged. Item integrity not guaranteed."
One of the enemy ninja darts for Naruto, chain flickering behind him, while the other slips past Sasuke and lunges straight for us—faster than I can blink, a blur of cloth and metal.
Sakura stands her ground, but the ninja's arm snakes up and over her—reaching for Tazuna. Sasuke blurs forward, intercepting with a sweep of his arm, but the ninja is already in range.
I pull the trigger.
The field hums, and the ninja freezes in midair, arms and legs splayed, yanked to a dead halt inches from Tazuna's face. The cannon's field holds him—totally stuck. His body twitches, like he wants to move. I keep the trigger squeezed, pulse hammering as I glance to the others. "Someone deal with this guy!"
On the other side of the clearing, the second enemy's chain whips for Naruto, who's still in shock—eyes wide, feet glued to the ground.
Suddenly, Kakashi is there. Out of nowhere, his arm slams around the attacker's neck, wrenching him down in a practiced chokehold. "Yo," he says casually. I whip my head back to where his "body" fell, only to see… a pile of logs?
"Sorry for the delay, Naruto. Didn't expect you to freeze up like that."
Sasuke backs away, breathing hard, kunai still drawn. Sakura is shaking, but her eyes are fierce. Tazuna nearly collapses.
Kakashi surveys the scene, one eyebrow raised behind his hitai-ate. "Well done, Sasuke. That was very smooth. Good coordination, Sakura—you held your ground." He gives Sakura a nod, which makes her eyes go wide with relief.
Naruto stands in the middle of the clearing, fists clenched, staring at the ground. His shoulders shake, anger and shame warring on his face. He doesn't say anything, but it's clear he's devastated that he locked up.
Kakashi turns to me next. I'm still holding the propulsion cannon trigger, sweat prickling on my brow. The trapped ninja's muscles twitch and tense in the grip of the field, his face twisted in discomfort. Occasionally, he lets out a groan, eyes squeezed shut.
Kakashi crouches beside me. "How long can you hold him like that?" he asks, casual but watchful.
My HUD scrolls the numbers.
The PDA speaks quietly in my ear:
"Propulsion Cannon: operational time approximately two and a half minutes at current charge. Field integrity variable; subject may experience discomfort or mild paralysis. Recommend prompt action."
I translate for Kakashi, keeping it simple. "About two and a half minutes before it runs out."
He whistles, impressed. "Pretty snazzy. Hold him just a sec—"
He steps forward and, in a single smooth motion, brings the edge of his hand down on the back of the enemy ninja's neck. The guy goes limp, the field holding him upright for a second before I thumb the trigger off.
The ninja crumples into a heap, unconscious.
I flick the propulsion cannon's power off, letting my arm fall to my side. For a moment, the clearing is quiet—everyone just catching their breath.
Sasuke slides his kunai away, glancing over at Naruto. "You're not hurt, are you…? Scaredy-cat."
Naruto bristles, already half-rising to lunge at him. "Say that again, you bastard!"
Kakashi steps between them before things explode, one hand on Naruto's shoulder. "Naruto. Stand still." His tone changes, sharp and commanding. "Those claws are poisoned. If you move around, it'll spread faster."
Naruto freezes, suddenly pale. He looks at his arm—blood welling from a thin scratch where the enemy's gauntlet nicked him.
Kakashi glances at Tazuna, voice all business. "Mr. Tazuna."
Tazuna, still shaken, stammers, "Y-yeah, what?"
Kakashi, tying up the unconscious ninja to a tree, barely looks back. "We need to talk."
While Sakura steadies Naruto, I hesitate. My hand hovers over my inventory. My medkits—do I really want to reveal a universal cure to Konoha ninja? I glance at Naruto's clenched jaw, the fear in Sakura's eyes. I can't let a kid suffer—or worse—just to keep my tech secret. I sigh, then start pulling it out.
Kakashi begins his explanation as he works. "These two… They're Chunin from The Hidden Mist. Ninja like this, they fight to the bitter end—no matter the sacrifice." He glances up, meeting Tazuna's eyes. "Why'd you leave it to the kids to fight?"
Tazuna opens his mouth, but Kakashi continues, voice calm and cold. "If I wanted, I could've ended this instantly. But I needed to know who they were after. Was it you, or us?"
Tazuna frowns, confused. "What are you talking about?"
Kakashi ties the ninja's wrists tight. "Your request said you just needed protection from thugs, not enemy ninja. If we'd known ninja would be after you, this would be a B-rank mission—at least. Expensive, and not for genin."
He gives Tazuna a flat look. "Lying about your mission puts everyone at risk."
Sakura, face pale, blurts out, "This is too much for us! We have to give up! Kakashi-sensei, Naruto needs to go back to the village, to a doctor! He needs anesthetic, or—"
I step forward, clearing my throat. "Actually… I might be able to help with that."
Kakashi's visible eyebrow arches, that unreadable gaze sharp and curious. "Oh? What kind of help?"
I hold up the medkit, trying not to sound too eager or too suspicious. "I've got… antivenom."
Kakashi shakes his head, eyes narrowing a bit. "Antivenoms aren't universal. The Konoha doctors will know how to treat him for sure. We shouldn't risk—"
I cut him off, quietly determined. "This one is universal. I'm sure of it."
That gets his attention. Kakashi's eyes linger on the kit, weighing, testing. "How does it work?"
I snap open the case, revealing a sleek little syringe filled with fluid. "I just inject it. Works fast. He'll be fine."
Naruto glances at the needle, visibly sweating. "Uh, are you sure about that…?"
Kakashi meets Naruto's gaze. "It's your choice, Naruto. If you want to wait, we go back now."
Naruto stares at the needle, then at the scratch on his arm. He squares his jaw, trying to look brave, and reaches to grab the syringe—probably planning to jab himself. I pull it back, out of reach. "No. If you do it wrong, you die," I say flatly.
Not really true, but he doesn't need to know that.
Naruto freezes, eyes huge, and lets his hand drop. "O-okay, okay. You do it."
I clean the scratch and press the injector to his skin, thumb the trigger, and there's a tiny hiss. Naruto winces, but that's all.
A second later, he blinks. "Hey… I feel… great!" He flexes his hand, and the injury is gone—no redness, no swelling, not even a scar.
Oh, yeah, just give me away why don't ya.
Kakashi quickly grabs and bandages Naruto's arm before the others can see the wound heal under the blood, his expression unreadable. He holds it in a way that only he can see it.
Is he... covering up the healing? Why? I thought he'd out me right away.
Naruto grins, bouncing to his feet. "That didn't even hurt! Alright! I'm not scared anymore!" He balls his fists, facing the rest of the group, voice loud and determined. "No way I'm turning back. I'm gonna become Hokage someday, so stuff like this won't stop me! Believe it! We keep going!"
His voice rings out, and despite everything, it lifts the group's mood. Sakura looks relieved. Sasuke smirks, just a little. Kakashi's eye curves, almost a smile.
He claps Naruto on the shoulder. "Well... I suppose it should be fine."
Tazuna, who's been half-hiding behind his flask, bursts out, "That's SUPER! Thank you!" with a gratefulness that borders on frantic. "Maybe you ninja aren't so bad after all."
We pack up camp, the mood lighter, and press on through the woods. The trees thin, and within an hour the air shifts—the sound of gulls, the briny tang on the wind. I catch the first glimpse of the ocean between the trees: bright blue, the sun glinting off a wide bay, and in the distance, a massive unfinished bridge stretches out like a skeleton, lost in the morning fog.
Tazuna points to a rough trail sloping down to a battered little dock. "My contact will be waiting for us at the village," he says, half to Kakashi, half to himself.
Kakashi glances over, tone light. "Where are your contacts, Robinson?"
I shake my head, not about to explain the whole 'scuba adventure for space resources' thing. "Don't worry about it, Hatake. Your job's done for now."
Kakashi's smile doesn't fade. "Well, due to unforeseen circumstances, mind meeting us on the island across the bay? Shallow waters—should be safe. No giant sea monsters."
I raise an eyebrow at that, not entirely convinced, but let it go. "This is the last time I sign up for a joint mission, but fine. I'll meet you on the other side."
Tazuna waves, squinting up at me. "The big half-finished bridge, just across! Can't miss it."
Kakashi and his team pile into a narrow canoe tied up at the dock, Naruto still bouncing with renewed energy. Sakura looks nervous, and Sasuke as unreadable as ever. Tazuna's contact, a burly fisherman, grunts as he pushes them out into the bay. Fog swallows the boat in moments.
Finally, there's silence. Just me, the open shore, and endless blue water.
I let out a long sigh, already feeling the weight lift. Time to work. I wade out, deploy the mobile vehicle bay, and recall the Gullwing, its parts coming apart with crisp precision. The drones hum as I cycle through the menu, select the Seamoth, and watch as metal, glass, and circuitry spin together into a familiar shape—a one-person sub, sleek and ready.
I slip inside, the cockpit hissing shut around me. The HUD flickers to life, blue grid overlaying the ocean floor. I nose the Seamoth into the shallows, searching for familiar resource nodes. Titanium, quartz, lead—easy pickings. The water here is bright and tame, the biggest fish no match for my knife.
I set up a small temporary base: foundation, multipurpose room, a bioreactor (the local kelp works fine), and a solar panel just in case. Once it's powered, I dock the Seamoth and cycle through my blueprints, pinning the plans for the Prawn Suit—drilling, combat, whatever comes next. I sketch out an idea for a storage cart: hitch it to the Gullwing, give it a propulsion system so I can haul more cargo overland. It should be doable.
The habitat is quiet—too quiet, really, after the chaos of the past week. I'm just about to settle in and scroll through more blueprints when the PDA pings, its voice clear and matter-of-fact in my ear:
"Alert: Unknown ore detected in local substrate. Properties indicate passive absorption of ambient chakra. Recommend investigation."
I blink, sit up. "That's… weird." I ask it for a direction, and an arrow appears on the HUD, pulsing just outside the habitat's west wall.
I step out into the cool evening, booting up the helmet HUD and muttering, "Chakra vision: on."
The world shifts—colors bleed and swirl, chakra mist curling in every eddy of the ocean breeze. I follow the arrow through scattered tide pools until I see it: a cluster of pale, glimmering stone, half-buried in sand. Chakra swirls around it, thin tendrils being drawn in, but oddly, some chakra hangs back—resistant, as if not "compatible."
I kneel and scan the node, waiting as the PDA hums and analyzes:
"Analysis complete. Material not present in Alterra periodic table. Passive attraction and filtration of specific chakra types observed. Sample matches 'chakra metal' as described in local literature. Full capabilities undetermined. Suspected potential for manipulation and storage of chakra energies. Further study required."
The display lingers a moment, then adds:
"Recommendation: Accumulate large sample for ongoing planetary departure project. Projected use: allow adaptation to off-world environments by managing chakra withdrawal syndrome. Caution: mechanism of chakra-metal interaction remains partially unknown. Continued study essential."
I stare at the rock, suddenly seeing the stakes. If I can't solve this, if chakra really can't exist off-world, then leaving this planet would be a death sentence. If I can retrieve the absorbed chakra, maybe this stuff is the key. Maybe it can supply a controlled chakra flow for long enough to wean off it.
"Alright," I mutter. "Let's get to work."
I call the Seamoth over, break out the drill, and start collecting everything I can find—first the chakra metal, then more titanium and quartz, a little lead when I find it. Every few runs, I haul it back to the base, stacking it in row after row of improvised titanium lockers. Each locker labeled, every sample tagged.
I keep an eye out for gold, too—the original goal—but it's rarer here. Still, I manage to scrape together enough.
By the time the last locker clangs shut, the sun's kissing the horizon, a streak of gold and crimson lighting up the waves. My back aches, and my hands are raw even through the suit. I head inside, set the Seamoth to recharge, and roll out my sleeping bag in the corner of the multipurpose room.
For once, there's no whir of ninja, no voices, no village drama. Just the hum of the bioreactor, the soft beep of the PDA, and the gentle pulse of chakra in the metal walls—subtle, but non-threatening. I lay there in the dark, mind racing with possibilities, and drift off to sleep before I can worry too much about tomorrow.
/ VITAL SIGNS: ELEVATED/
/ RECORDING SUSPENDED — USER UNCONSCIOUS /
/ VITAL SIGNS: ELEVATED/
/ AUDIO / VIDEO / RECORDING RESUMED /
I wake early, the base silent but for the low hum of the bioreactor. There's a faint blue glow through the window. I wolf down a breakfast of hard bread, a couple apples, and some jerky—nothing fancy, just calories.
I settle at the workbench, slide open the CAD interface, and let the PDA's holographic projection flicker to life before me. The storage vehicle project is the priority now—if I'm going to haul any real load back through the forest or across the continent, I need something better than my arms or a few lockers jammed into the Seamoth's cargo bay.
I sketch out the core: a boxy, heavy-duty cargo platform, about the size of a large trunk, with thick curves at the corners to avoid catching on trees and rocks. The Gullwing's magnetic anchor points will sit at the front, so the hoverbike can tow it like a trailer. Instead of a standard hitch, it'll stay attached by a magnetic coupling—strong enough to hold steady even at speed, but with a simple interface so I can decouple it at a touch.
When the Gullwing's attached, it'll act like a proper trailer, following behind and matching speed and direction. But if I'm on foot, or just want to move it through a base, it'll use a low-power AI to follow me instead—though a lot slower, with all its thrusters firing downward just to hover, barely moving above the ground.
"Suggestion: Distribute propulsion systems for greater stability in rough terrain," the PDA offers, voice dry and neutral. "Adjust primary mass toward central axis for improved hover efficiency. Reduce unsprung weight. Widen cargo intake aperture for easier loading."
It's more criticism than encouragement, but I tweak the plans anyway. The Brick's shape morphs in the projection, the edges smoothing, the base flattening out. I add a universal inventory slot—feed in gear or materials and let the internal gravity field do the rest, distributing the atoms evenly. Each compartment will seal shut, with a hard physical latch for backup. All the systems will run on standard batteries, swapped out from my stockpile; I don't bother with anything fancy.
"Project complete: Safe for use in forest and open terrain. Recommend scheduled maintenance after each extended run."
I snort, "Yes, mother," and lock in the build.
I save the design as 'The Brick.' It's not pretty—just a thick, rounded rectangle with stubby mag-anchors and a heavy-duty cargo slot—but it'll get the job done.
With the design finished, I gather my tools and double-check the resource list, mentally tallying everything I'll need to match the Sea Truck's blueprint: plasteel ingots, advanced wiring kits, lead, glass, a pile of titanium, plus copper wire and power cells. The PDA, ever-helpful, projects a list of remaining materials in my HUD. It warns, flat as ever:
"Caution: The Brick is not waterproof. Extended submersion may result in catastrophic failure. Recommend land deployment only."
Noted. I haul the Mobile Vehicle Bay to a flat spot on the shoreline, far enough from the waves. Once it's stable, I load in the materials. The drones shoot out, humming as they assemble the Brick layer by layer—titanium hull, curved glass access port, grav modules, cargo handling arms, all of it snapping together with brisk, mechanical precision.
A dull thud echoes through the ground as the finished Brick drops onto the dirt, steady and motionless. I circle it, running my hands over the smooth, cold metal. The mag-locks look good, the inventory panel lights up blue. Satisfied, I start ferrying everything I want to keep out of the water—tools, ore, extra power cells—from my base to the Brick. The compartments swallow it all with a soft, satisfying click.
With storage sorted, I set out to gather the rest of what I'll need. The days blur together in a loop of diving, hauling, and cataloging:
Lithium and lead from deep shale outcrops.
Gold and silver picked from the base of kelp stalks and caves.
Quartz and copper by the handful from shallow limestone nodes.
Cave sulfur, extracted with the stasis rifle, each dive punctuated by a crashfish scream—then blessed, eerie silence.
Magnitite from the deeper caves.
Gel sacks—critical for the Prawn Suit down the line.
The Brick fills up, every compartment neatly labeled. When I've finally got enough—at least, enough for the next phase—I guide the Brick off the main trail and power it down, camouflaging it with a few branches and a patch of undergrowth. On standby, its systems go dark.
After stowing my last haul, I suit up, make sure the Seamoth is charged, and slip into the cockpit. I scan the horizon—nothing but fog. With a quick systems check, I pilot the Seamoth into the water, watching the shoreline fade behind me as I head across the bay to rejoin Kakashi's team.
As I skim across the surface, fog beading on the Seamoth's glass, the PDA's voice crackles in my ear:
"Warning: Directional error detected. Current heading will not result in optimal rendezvous. Recommended course correction: mark set at bridge structure."
A marker pops onto my HUD, bright yellow. The outline of the bridge shows through the fog. Obvious now, of course, after I've already wasted precious minutes drifting in the wrong direction.
I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Why didn't you just mark it before?"
"In one hundred simulated scenarios, ninety-nine survivors located the bridge without additional guidance. Efficiency algorithms dictated no intervention was necessary."
"Yeah, well, fuck you too."
"Noted for future reference."
Muttering, I swing the Seamoth around and punch the throttle, gliding through the fog toward the waypoint. The bridge looms up, skeletal and unfinished, cables vanishing into gray mist.
As I surface near the pilings, I spot Sakura on the shoreline—tense, kunai raised in a shaky grip, her stance solid but her eyes wide. Tazuna hovers behind her, wringing his hands, casting nervous looks at the water.
I pop the Seamoth's hatch and climb out, raising my hands. "Hey! Sakura!"
She startles, lowering her kunai just a fraction. "Mr. Robinson! Don't sneak up like that—I thought you were an enemy ninja!"
I give her an apologetic wave. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."
Her eyes dart past me, fixing on the Seamoth. "What is that vehicle?"
I shrug, glancing back at the sub. "It's… a boat."
"I've never seen a boat like that before."
"It's a very fancy boat."
She narrows her eyes, clearly unconvinced, but lets it go with a resigned sigh. "Alright. Come on—Kakashi-sensei said to bring you to where we're staying."
Tazuna bristles, looking back at the bridge. "But I need to get back to work! The bridge isn't going to build itself, you know!"
Sakura crosses her arms, firm. "If you want to go without protection, be my guest."
He mumbles something about "bossy girls" but falls in behind us, shuffling along as Sakura leads the way off the beach. I follow, casting one last glance at the Seamoth bobbing quietly at the pier.
We wind through the village, feet crunching over gravel and broken shells, past rows of battered fishing shacks and empty market stalls. The farther we walk, the more the poverty hits me—shutters nailed shut, doors hanging crooked, laundry flapping limp in the briny wind. Most of the faces we pass are gaunt, wary, or just numb. I see no kids playing, only a few old men hunched over nets, silent as ghosts.
I keep my voice low. "Sakura, what happened here? I thought this place would be… well, a little more lively."
Before she can answer, Tazuna cuts in, his voice sour and bitter. "It was, once. Before Gato. He bought up everything—ports, markets, even the mayor. Anyone who tried to fight back or speak out just… vanished. He pays his thugs to keep everyone scared and hungry. It used to be a good place to live. Now—" He gestures helplessly at the ragged street.
Sakura tries to calm him down, offering a reassuring smile. "We're doing what we can, Tazuna-san. With Kakashi-sensei and the others, you're safer now. The bridge will help—if we finish it."
Tazuna just huffs, but doesn't argue.
We turn off the main street and push through a squeaky wooden gate into Tazuna's yard. His house is a surprise—two stories, wooden, but nice, shutters clean. It stands out like a sore thumb amid the collapse around it. He unlocks the door and ushers us inside, muttering about taking shoes off and "don't touch the glassware."
The entryway is warm, and smells faintly of tea. It's clear this place was cared for—until recently, anyway.
We settle in the living room. I set my pack near the door, watching as Sakura checks the curtains before sitting. She leans forward, lowering her voice, eyes on the door as if she expects it to swing open any second.
"We ran into more trouble after you left," she says quietly. "The man who attacked us—Zabuza Momochi—he was supposed to be dead. But after Kakashi-sensei fought him, a hunter-nin showed up… hit him with senbon, said he'd 'dispose' of the body. Turns out, it was a trick. All it did was put Zabuza in a state of false death."
I raise an eyebrow, genuinely impressed and a little worried. "So, the hunter-nin was in on it?"
Sakura nods grimly. "Probably his accomplice. We think he's out there—waiting for us to let our guard down."
Tazuna pours himself a cup of cold tea, hands shaking just a bit. "It's all the same to Gato. If the bridge goes up, he loses everything. He'll pay whatever it takes to stop us."
I let out a low breath, glancing through the window at the fading light and the fog creeping in. "Well. Sounds like it's going to be an interesting couple of days."
Sakura offers a weak smile, then moves to help Tazuna in the kitchen. I sit back, listening to the quiet house and the sea somewhere out beyond the dying village.
It doesn't take long before the quiet is shattered.
The front door bangs open, letting in a swirl of cold air and the familiar sound of raised voices. Sasuke and Naruto tumble in first, shoving and shouting over each other, both covered in mud and scratches.
"—you started it, idiot!"
"Did not! You were the one who—!"
"Yeah, and you couldn't even keep up—"
Their bickering is so loud it drowns out the sound of footsteps behind them. Kakashi appears in the doorway, moving slower than usual, slouching against the frame for a second as if steadying himself. His single eye curves up in an easy, if weary, smile.
"Yo," he says, voice dry as driftwood.
I glance him over—he looks fine, but the PDA flickers a quiet alert in my headset:
"Notice: Subject Hatake, Kakashi—chronic chakra deficit. Signs consistent with moderate chakra exhaustion. Recommend rest and nutrient intake per Konoha medical guide, page 62."
I nod at Kakashi. "Hey. You look like you lost a wrestling match with a bear."
He just shrugs, lazy as ever. "Well, you should see the bear."
Before I can say more, a woman's voice calls from the kitchen—soft but firm, and edged with fatigue. "Boys, enough!" She steps into view, wiping her hands on a towel. She's older, her hair a cloud of gentle purple, face lined but kind. "Dinner's ready. Wash up and behave at the table."
Naruto and Sasuke glare at each other one last time, then make a beeline for the washroom, muttering under their breath the whole way.
Tazuna gives me a look, half apology, half exasperation. "They've been at it all afternoon. I'm amazed the house is still standing."
I chuckle, the tension draining a little. "Better than silence, sometimes."
The woman—Tazuna's daughter, I guess—brings out a simple meal: grilled fish, rice, and steamed greens. The table is cramped but warm, everyone squeezes in close.
As soon as the food is set down, the boys attack it with the same energy they spent fighting. Naruto and Sasuke try to out-eat each other, rice flying, chopsticks clattering, both declaring victory and stuffing themselves until they're sick. Kakashi says nothing, just eyesmiles and quietly takes a modest portion, then slides seconds onto my plate with a nod.
Sakura tries to referee, but gives up, settling for at least keeping the water glasses upright.
When dinner is over, Naruto and Sasuke groan, clutching their stomachs, each insisting the other cheated. Tazuna's daughter just shakes her head, smiling a little despite the worry lines at her eyes.
The house, battered but bright, settles into a comfortable hush for the night.
By the time the sun's gone and the dishes are cleared, we're all running on fumes. Tazuna's daughter herds us up the creaking stairs, apologizing that the rooms are a bit cramped. There are just two bunk beds in the guest room—old wood, a little wobbly. Kakashi claims one of the bottom bunks right away, dropping onto the mattress with a heavy sigh.
I grab the other bottom bunk, tossing my pack under it and kicking off my boots. Sasuke clambers up to the top over Kakashi, saying nothing, already half-asleep. Sakura eyes the other top bunk, but before she can move, Naruto starts whining.
"Hey! Why do I have to sleep on the floor? I did all the heavy lifting today!" He throws himself down dramatically, clutching his sleeping bag like a martyr.
Sakura rolls her eyes, arms crossed. "You want the client to sleep on the floor, Naruto? Grow up!" She snatches her bag and climbs to the top, glare daring him to argue. Naruto pouts, but Kakashi just grins at him, one eye creased in silent amusement.
Tazuna pokes his head in, wishes us a gruff goodnight, and we all settle in. The beds are hard, but the house is warm and blissfully quiet.
I drift off listening to the faint sounds of the sea, Naruto's quiet muttering, and the gentle creak of the old house.
/ VITAL SIGNS: ELEVATED/
/ RECORDING SUSPENDED — USER UNCONSCIOUS /
/ VITAL SIGNS: ELEVATED/
/ AUDIO / VIDEO / RECORDING RESUMED /
In the morning, breakfast is simple—rice, pickled vegetables, and some reheated fish. Sakura helps Tazuna's daughter serve, while Kakashi sips his tea and watches the rain start to patter against the window.
He gathers us after we eat, laying out the day's plan with the calm of someone who's done this a hundred times.
"With ninja still after Tazuna, we can't be careless. I'll be at the bridge with Sakura. Sasuke, Naruto—you're practicing tree climbing, just like we talked about. Robinson, stick with them. If anything happens, shout."
I raise an eyebrow. "Why do you guys need to practice climbing trees? Haven't you been doing that since you were kids?"
Naruto tries and fails to hide his excitement, practically bouncing on his heels. "Oh, you'll see! This isn't normal climbing. It's ninja training!"
Sasuke just smirks, crossing his arms. "Try not to fall behind, loser."
Sakura rolls her eyes but gives me a quick, sympathetic smile as she gathers her things to head out with Kakashi and Tazuna.
Kakashi gives me a lazy salute, then herds the others toward the door. "Keep an eye on them, will you? Don't let them blow up the village."
Naruto all but drags me out the back door, his energy dialed to eleven. Sasuke follows at his own pace. The three of us head out behind the house, dew still wet on the grass.
"Alright, you ready?" Naruto puffs up, grinning. "Watch this!"
He sprints at the nearest tree, plants one foot on the trunk, and just... keeps going? He runs straight up, at least twenty feet, before his feet start to slip. He scrambles for a second, then slides back down, landing with a solid thud and a sheepish grin. "Totally meant to do that," he says, brushing himself off.
Almost before he finishes, the PDA's voice pings in my headset, cool and clinical:
"Analysis: Target activity—vertical surface traversal via controlled chakra emission. Estimated requirement: 100 chakra units per second for user. Note: Exceptional upper body strength required. User fitness: Acceptable."
I blink, mind spinning. Chakra per second? I glance at the chakra tracker i've been ignoring and nearly choke.
Current Chakra: 1200
When did that get so high?
A knot tightens in my gut.
"Notice: Sudden increase in user stress response detected. Clarification: Due to negative psychological response, reporting of chakra proliferation was suspended until now. As no corrective action is possible, no updates were deemed beneficial."
I swallow, forcing a shaky breath. Naruto's too busy preening to notice. "Did you see that? I'll get all the way up, just you watch!"
I whisper, "PDA, activate chakra vision."
A blue-tinted filter snaps into place. With the HUD overlay, I can see ghostly energy pooling at Naruto's feet as he runs at the tree again—this time getting a few steps higher before sliding back. Sasuke snorts, tossing his hair, and steps up to try.
He sprints, gathering chakra—just a thin, controlled stream flowing to his soles. He gets a solid five feet higher than Naruto before slipping, landing gracefully with barely a sound.
"Correction: Chakra required for surface traversal 10 units per second. Subject: Naruto is currently emitting chakra in gross excess. Loss of efficiency detected. Superior control noted in Subject: Sasuke."
I watch as they both try again and again, the energy at their feet fluctuating—sometimes flaring bright, sometimes wavering. So it's some mix of will, focus, and a steady feed of chakra to… stick?
Naruto keeps throwing himself at the tree, refusing to slow down, shouting encouragement at himself. Sasuke's quieter, every attempt a little smoother, a little more refined.
I lean back against a fence, trying to wrap my head around it all—my HUD alive with streams of data.
Curiosity finally gets the better of me. I raise my voice. "So, can I ask... How do ninjas manipulate chakra? It seems so... ethereal."
Naruto, breathless from his latest failed run, grins wide. "It's easy! You just—woosh—feel it in your gut and then—bang!—push it into your feet!" He stamps the ground for emphasis, nearly losing his balance. "Like, imagine you're shooting it out, but also sticking, but also, y'know, running at the same time!"
Sasuke pinches the bridge of his nose, like he's got a migraine. "That's not even close, you idiot." He looks at me, all cool detachment. "Chakra isn't just… wooshing and banging around. It's about balance and control."
Naruto folds his arms and huffs, "Well it works for me!"
Sasuke ignores him. "Chakra is made of two parts: yin and yang. Yin is spiritual energy—imagination, mental focus. Yang is physical energy—your stamina, your body's strength. Usually, your body balances them automatically, but some jutsu need a specific ratio."
He glances at Naruto. "If you're not careful, you waste chakra, or it leaks out, or you just can't do the technique at all. Most of the time, we use hand signs to focus our chakra and tell it where to go."
I tilt my head, still watching the way their chakra swirls in my vision. "But you're not using hand signs for this?"
Sasuke shakes his head, a hint of a smirk. "For things like this—tree climbing, wall-walking—it's more about intent. Willpower and focus. But before we start, we use the Ram sign." He holds his hands up, index and middle fingers together, forming a simple seal. "It helps to center your chakra, keep it stable. Then you push just the right amount to your feet."
He steps up to the tree, forms the Ram sign, and I see in the overlay how the chakra at his feet sharpens—no more ragged edges, just a tight, clean aura clinging to the bark.
Naruto watches with wide eyes, nodding like he's just discovered fire. "Ohhh," he says, as if this is a revelation, never mind that they've been told the basics a dozen times already. Then he breaks into a sheepish grin and glances at Sasuke. "Wait, I thought that was, like, symbolic or something."
Sasuke gives him a flat, unimpressed look. "It's not symbolic, dobe. If you'd paid attention in class, you'd know that. Stop wasting chakra and focus."
Naruto squints at his hands, then forms the Ram sign as if he's making sure it's not going to bite him. He closes his eyes, sticking out his tongue in concentration—his whole body tensing like he's about to wrestle the tree into submission by willpower alone. Then, with a dramatic breath, he takes off, feet slapping against the trunk. This time, he gets a couple of steps higher before gravity wins and he tumbles back, landing with a startled yelp and a burst of laughter.
He pops back up, dusting himself off, grinning wide. "That felt way different!" He looks at me, practically bouncing with excitement. "Did you see that? I got, like, five steps up!"
"Definitely improvement," I say, checking my HUD. His chakra network pulses erratically, but it's holding together. The overlay shows a faintly steadier flow—progress, however small.
Naruto keeps running at the tree, repeating the process with dogged enthusiasm. Sasuke, after a few more silent laps, gives an impatient huff and heads back toward the house, muttering something about "wasting daylight" and "idiots." I'm left with Naruto, who—true to form—wants to train until he drops.
Which, honestly, suits me. I glance back at the house, the distant shape of Tazuna's porch. It's not that I don't want to be around the others, but the more I think about it, the more it makes sense to keep my distance. If Zabuza or Gato's goons show up, they'll be going for Tazuna. I'm an unknown, unrelated to the target, and I'd rather be a blip on the periphery than front and center for a ninja brawl. Cowardly? Maybe. But I'm not the one getting paid to protect them. It's really just not my job.
Naruto pushes himself, again and again, until his steps grow slower and sloppier, his chakra flickering under him. Eventually, even his boundless energy runs dry. He slumps down at the base of the tree, breath ragged, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead.
"I'm just… gonna close my eyes… for a minute," he mumbles, already half asleep.
It's oddly peaceful. The air is thick with the smell of wet earth and distant salt, the sun still high.
I leave Naruto sleeping, making sure he's safe—motion sensors pinged, propulsion cannon ready at my hip. I walk a ways off, far enough that even if he wakes, he won't hear me talking to myself like a lunatic.
The HUD's overlay is still active, faint blue grid lines crisscrossing my vision, and the world is traced in the soft shimmer of chakra veins. The PDA's voice—clinical, emotionless—chimes in at my request:
"Query recognized. Chakra, as defined by local texts, is a form of vital energy composed of both physical stamina and spiritual power. Cultivation occurs in parallel with muscle development. Data suggests that individuals with higher physical fitness exhibit increased chakra proliferation. Subject fitness: adequate. Recommendation: focus on the 'center'—typically located near the stomach, known locally as the 'chakra core' or 'coil.' Visualization and focused breathing are advised."
So it's not so different from breathing exercises back home. Except now, the stakes are much higher.
I sit down, cross-legged, and close my eyes. I try to focus on that vague warmth I sometimes feel in my gut—wondering if that's really it, or just nerves. Every time I concentrate, my breath stutters, my focus slips. After a while, there's a faint, almost electrical twitch in my abdomen.
"Minimal chakra fluctuation detected," the PDA reports, as dry as ever. "Repeat attempt."
I try again. Nothing. Then another twitch.
"Chakra fluctuation: 0.03%. No significant result."
I sigh. "How much do I have, anyway? Compared to Naruto?"
"Baseline chakra reserves: Subject Uzumaki Naruto, approximately 30,000 units. Concentration is abnormal; primary reservoir localized in stomach region. User: Ryley Robinson, 1,200 units."
My jaw drops. "Thirty thousand? That's… how is that possible?"
"Subject is an outlier. For comparison: Subject Haruno Sakura, 4,500 units. Subject Uchiha Sasuke, 7,000 units. User is below median but within acceptable range for adult civilian male. Note: Chakra control may vary regardless of total reserves."
I laugh, a little bitterly. "So I'm at a fifth of Sakura? Wow. That's… okay, maybe everyone's just built different."
"Affirmative. Significant variance detected among population. Chakra reserve is determined by genetics, training, and anomalous factors."
I focus again, this time trying to copy what I saw Naruto and Sasuke do. Visualizing that inner core, reaching for that elusive energy. There's another twitch, then nothing. The HUD logs each attempt—each failure—a cold blue number ticking upward.
Minutes pass. The forest is quiet, sun filtering through the leaves. I'm just starting to get a headache when the PDA pings.
"Warning: Unknown individual approaching from the east."
My eyes snap open. I turn, heart pounding, hand on my propulsion cannon. I scan the edge of the clearing, HUD overlay flickering with a new chakra source—delicate, flowing.
And then I see her.
Black hair, smooth as glass. Brown eyes, soft and sharp all at once. She's wearing a short pink kimono, no sleeves, the late sunlight painting her skin gold. She moves through the underbrush as if she belongs to the forest—light on her feet, almost unearthly.
She is, simply put, the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. My brain stutters, any words I'd planned evaporating in the warmth of her gaze.
"Um—hello!" I blurt, a little too loud, a little too fast, nerves singing in my veins. "Are you… lost?"
She blinks, then dips her head with a small, immaculate smile. "No. I'm gathering herbs." Her voice is soft enough that the leaves seem to catch it and set it down gently. She raises the wicker basket on her arm: pale roots, slivered bark, silver-green leaves, a sprig of something lavender and clean. Around her feet, more cuttings are arranged with careful, almost ceremonial neatness.
"Medicinal?" I ask, trying to sound casual and not like my pulse just jumped to escape velocity.
"For wounds and fevers," she says, kneeling to pinch a stem and tuck it into the basket. "These help with pain. These stop bleeding. These calm the stomach."
My HUD edges the scene in ghost-blue. Chakra threads in her body flow like silk—calm, fine-grained control my overlay hasn't seen since Kakashi. I keep my hands away from my gear, away from anything that screams I'm not from around here.
"Right. Uh… I'm Ryley." I angle a little smile. "Want a hand? I don't know plants, but I'm good at carrying stuff."
Her eyes warm a fraction. "I'm Haku." A beat. "I would appreciate help."
Spoiler: Haku
We move in an easy rhythm: she points, I gather; she trims, I hold the basket. I lean in when she explains leaf margins and what to avoid, and she listens when I repeat the names back, as if my clumsy pronunciation is worth praising.
"PDA," I murmur under my breath, mic sensitivity turned to a whisper. "Anything I should know?"
"Local herbology references indicate antipyretic and coagulant properties for most collected species," the PDA replies in my ear, clinically indifferent. "Recommendation: avoid ingestion without proper preparation."
I keep my smile fixed on Haku. "You really know your stuff," I tell her—and mean it. "Steady hands. Calm voice. It suits you."
A faint color rises in her cheeks. She doesn't pull away from the attention; if anything, she lingers in the space between us, head tilted, eyes inviting me to keep going while she sets another cut stem across her palm.
"What brings you here, Ryley?" she asks, arranging the herbs with precise care. "This is far from the main road."
Normally I'd reach for a ready-made lie. With her, the truth slips out before I can catch it. "I'm a diver. Been working the coast. Gathering resources."
Her gaze flicks up, surprised and—if I'm not imagining it—impressed. "A diver? That is dangerous work. The sea takes many who are not careful."
I huff a laugh. "Trust me, I know. I'm not strong. It's… technique. Planning. Staying out of the way when big things show up."
"Humility and skill," she says, and the words land like a hand at the center of my chest. "I didn't know you were that capable."
My ego does a stupid little backflip. "I fake it well."