Yui's chakra flared once in her sleep.
It wasn't violent.
Just… raw.
Like a wind pressing against an old wound.
Arashi sat nearby, eyes open in the predawn light, watching her sleep beneath the seal-stabilizing field Kushina had erected.
Himari, asleep in the next room, hadn't stirred once since Yui arrived.
But her chakra had curled inward.
Defensive.
Afraid.
Even family, it seemed, could be a stranger.
Kushina arrived with tea and a scroll marked with Uzumaki threads.
"I ran diagnostics," she said. "Yui's seal was layered three times. Base loyalty pattern, a chakra-kill trigger, and…"
She paused.
"…a mental lock."
Arashi frowned. "Type?"
"Prototype Genjutsu-tether. Like a memory cage. She's missing years."
"Can it be restored?"
"Maybe. But not without risking total fracture."
Arashi exhaled.
"Danzo didn't create tools," Kushina said softly. "He created prisons. Inside people."
"She still sings," Arashi murmured.
"She remembers the sound," Kushina corrected. "That's different from remembering the pain."
Later, Yui sat outside under the plum tree behind the Namikaze estate.
Kakashi brought her warm rice balls and watched her cautiously.
"You're Himari's sister?"
Yui nodded, slow.
"I was. Still am. I think."
"You're not like her," Kakashi said.
"I was... older when it happened."
"What happened?"
She stared at the sky.
"Everything."
Meanwhile, in a Root safehouse two miles outside Konoha, a sealed room unlocked for the first time in a year.
Inside sat a boy.
Sixteen.
Blindfolded.
Arms crossed behind his back in chains made from chakra-conductive steel.
He opened his mouth and spoke without emotion:
"Designation?"
The Root officer unsealed a scroll.
"Project: Ashfall."
The boy smiled faintly.
"Final clearance confirmed."
The scroll disintegrated.
Arashi met with Naori on the rooftops above the Uchiha archives that evening.
"The Archivist found another entry," she said, handing over a scroll.
Arashi opened it.
Inside:
"Ashfall Protocol: Trigger upon failure of Project KAI or YUI.
Genomic origin: Unknown.
Binds via chakra imprint key hidden in Hokage Tower."
"What's the target?"
Naori hesitated.
"Us."
"You mean Root?"
"I mean you. Me. Kushina. Everyone who interfered."
Arashi closed the scroll slowly.
"So this was Danzo's real failsafe."
"No," Naori said. "This was his grudge."
At the same moment, Yui entered the training yard behind the estate.
She stood alone.
Didn't stretch. Didn't breathe deeply.
Just opened her palm.
And a ring of chakra bloomed across her fingers—perfectly circular, balanced, too refined for someone who'd spent years drugged.
Minato appeared beside Arashi, watching from a distance.
"She's… talented."
"She's engineered."
"Do you think she's a threat?"
Arashi didn't answer.
Because he didn't know.
Yet.
Himari approached her sister later that night.
She stood at the doorway for a long time.
Then stepped in.
Yui looked up.
"I thought you were dead," Himari said.
"I thought you forgot me," Yui replied.
Silence.
Then:
"I sang to keep you sane," Himari said. "Even when you stopped responding."
"I heard you," Yui whispered. "But I couldn't remember the words."
They didn't cry.
Just sat together on the edge of the bed.
And for the first time since they were torn apart—sang together.
The next morning, an explosion rocked the southern edge of Konoha.
Arashi was there in under five minutes.
What he saw made his blood run cold.
A tower—one of the old Root observation posts, long since abandoned—stood in ash.
Blackened steel.
Melted stone.
No sign of jutsu fire, no residue of explosive tags.
Just pure chakra incineration.
At the epicenter: a mark.
Not a summoning circle.
Not a clan sigil.
Just a spiral, perfectly etched into the ground.
Like a black sun.
Shikaku Nara arrived minutes later.
"I read this in old war records," he said.
"Whose technique?"
"No name," he replied. "Just a file labeled Ashfall. Supposed to be a concept. A deterrent. Genocide-level chakra weaving."
"Does anyone have this?"
"No human should."
"Then someone made one."
Shikaku looked around at the stunned field.
"No witnesses. No residual chakra. The mark's too clean."
Arashi turned away.
"We're being warned."
That night, a scroll arrived for Arashi.
No courier.
No chakra trail.
Just a single name written across the cover in black ink:
"Kakashi."
He opened it.
Inside: a time, a location—an old well deep within the Forest of Death.
And a final line:
"You protected your brother.
Let's see if you can save him."
Arashi didn't hesitate.
He moved.
In the forest, by the ruined well, he found a single figure standing in the moonlight.
Teenage.
Eyes blank.
Wearing a black coat stitched with Root's old sigils burned off.
The boy looked up.
"Project Ashfall," he said calmly.
"You're here to kill me?"
"No."
"I'm here to remind you that mercy leaves scars."
He opened his hand.
And the air ignited.
To be continued.