"Stupid scroll." Naruto kicked the dusty wooden crate. "Why'd it hafta be locked?" He rubbed his sore shoulder where Academy instructors had tackled him earlier. Moonlight filtered through the cracked warehouse windows, illuminating floating dust motes. The scent of mildew clung to the air. His fingers trembled as he pried open the forbidden container.
Inside lay the Scroll of Seals. Its ancient parchment felt unnaturally cold against his palms. Complex symbols pulsed with faint green light beneath his touch. He squinted at the first technique diagram—Shadow Clone Jutsu. "Alright," he mumbled, copying hand signs with clumsy determination. He poured every ounce of chakra into the unfamiliar seals.
The warehouse floor cracked open like an eggshell. Inky tentacles burst upward, shattering concrete. Naruto scrambled backward, choking on ozone and burnt hair. A colossal eye blinked within the void—pupils like fractured galaxies. The creature didn't roar. Its silence pressed against Naruto's eardrums until they throbbed. Dust rained from crumbling rafters.
Naruto froze mid-crawl. The eye focused solely on him. Jagged teeth formed from shadows inside its pupil-less gaze. "Small thing," a voice echoed inside his skull, dry as desert bones. "Why wake the Sleeper?" The tentacles coiled gently around Naruto's ankles—icy, yet strangely protective. A low hum vibrated through the floorboards.
SUMMARY^1: Naruto retrieved the Scroll of Seals from a warehouse crate and attempted Shadow Clone Jutsu. His uncontrolled chakra unexpectedly ruptured the ground, summoning a colossal eldritch entity. The creature noticed Naruto and inquired telepathically why it was awakened while its tentacles encircled him protectively.
The Scroll of Seals trembled violently. Its symbols flared crimson before shredding into iridescent ash. "Hungry," the entity sighed mentally. Naruto's orange jacket flapped wildly as unseen winds whipped through the warehouse. He tasted copper—his own blood trickling from his nose from the sheer psychic pressure. "Protect?" Naruto choked out. The fractured galaxy-pupil dilated slightly. "Yes. You called."
Outside, distant shouts erupted—ANBU converging. The creature's tentacles snapped taut, embedding hooks into reality itself. Space groaned like bending steel. Naruto glimpsed Konoha's Hokage Monument warping grotesquely through the shattered windows. "Mine now," the voice declared. Naruto felt dizzy warmth flood his veins—an alien chakra stitching his bruises shut.
The warehouse roof peeled away silently like foil. Standing exposed beneath moonlight, Naruto stared upward with watering eyes. The entity retracted its tendrils into a swirling vortex centered above him. A single obsidian feather drifted down—sharp enough to slice concrete where it landed. Naruto's shadow stretched unnaturally long, twisting into barbed hooks. "Chaos," the voice promised softly inside his mind. "Fun." Below, the first ANBU masks appeared at street level—kunai gleaming cold.
Naruto's fingers burned suddenly. He looked down to find crimson symbols searing themselves onto his palms—a pact written in angles that hurt to perceive. The markings pulsed with the rhythm of the entity's fading hum. "Blood-price," it sighed, its galaxy-eye winking. "Offerings sustain." Naruto understood instantly: This wasn't chakra. This was ink-siphoned terror, drawn from worlds where geometry screamed. The contract throbbed, hungry for signatures.
Through their new psychic tether, Naruto sensed the entity's amusement as Konoha's elite breached the warehouse doors. Stone-faced ANBU froze mid-step. Their shadows writhed independently—elongating into grasping talons. Naruto grinned wildly despite the blood crusting his lip. He slammed his marked palm onto the fractured floor. The air screamed. Reality puckered. Five smaller voids tore open around him, disgorging skittering horrors—a centipede made of fractured glass, a floating mass of weeping eyes bound in thorned wire, a thing that was only teeth orbiting a hollow core.
The ANBU captain's paralysis broke. "Genjutsu!" he barked, kunai flying. The blade passed clean through the weeping-eye mass—and embedded itself in the captain's own comrade. Confusion erupted. The glass centipede scuttled up a wall, refracting moonlight into blinding shards. Naruto laughed, high and giddy. The entity's departing whisper curled like smoke in his mind: "Feed them well, Little Storm." Above, the vortex snapped shut. Alone amidst crawling chaos, Naruto tasted ozone and power. His bruises were gone. His heart hammered—not with fear, but with the terrifying joy of a door kicked wide open.
Naruto blinked. The warehouse was silent. No horrors, no cracks. Only dawn light filtering through dust motes. His palms stung faintly. Crimson symbols pulsed once, then faded beneath his skin like bad dreams. "Oi, bastard!" he yelled experimentally at the empty air. No answer. Just the distant clang of a blacksmith's hammer. He kicked the Scroll of Seals' ashes—gray flakes scattering. His stomach growled. Ramen. Yeah. Ramen made sense now. He stumbled outside, ignoring the bewildered ANBU still rubbing their temples near splintered barrels.
Two weeks later, Hiruzen Sarutobi stared at the faint, shimmering outline on Naruto's palm—visible only under sealing-lantern light. "You summoned *what*?" The Hokage's pipe had gone cold. Naruto shifted, uncomfortable in the stiff chair. "A sleepy eyeball thing! Said it was mine now." He mimed tentacles. Hiruzen's knuckles whitened. Reports flooded his desk: distorted shadows near training grounds, whispers of geometry that *hurt*, a chuunin found giggling about "the Crawling Stars." The boy radiated…wrongness. Not malice. Worse: indifference. Ancient. Hiruzen sighed. "Academy reassignment. Tomorrow. And Naruto?" The boy paused at the door. "Don't feed it."
Sunlight dappled the Academy courtyard. Sakura flipped her hair, whispering loudly to Ino about Sasuke's new, brooding intensity. Sasuke himself leaned against a wall, eyes tracking a crow whose shadow seemed too many-legged. Naruto bounced on his heels, ignoring their stares. Iruka-sensei unrolled the team scrolls. "Team Seven: Haruno Sakura, Uchiha Sasuke…" Naruto held his breath. The symbols on his palm warmed. "...and Uzumaki Naruto." Sakura's groan echoed. Sasuke's glare sharpened. Naruto just grinned, wide and unsettling. The crow cawed—a sound like bending metal. Naruto's shadow stretched long behind him, hook-tipped and patient.
Training Ground Seven buzzed with cicadas. Kakashi arrived late, nose buried in *Icha Icha*. "Your first task," he yawned, "is to take these bells." Two silver chimes glinted. Sakura lunged with textbook precision. Sasuke blurred, kunai flashing. Naruto hesitated. His palm itched. He inhaled—deeply. The scent of damp earth soured abruptly into ozone and wet stone. Kakashi's lone eye snapped wide. Reality puckered behind Naruto. A jagged tear ripped open, disgorging a swarm of obsidian moths whispering fractal equations. They engulfed Kakashi's bells in a humming cloud. Sasuke froze mid-shuriken throw. Sakura screamed—not at the moths, but at Naruto's shadow. It pulsed, forming hooked appendages twisting toward the rift.
Kakashi vanished in a swirl of leaves, reappearing atop a training post. The moths dissolved into inky smoke. "Interesting… jutsu, Naruto," he murmured, eye narrowed. Naruto rubbed his stinging palm. "Wasn't me! It's the Sleeper! It gets hungry!" Kakashi's gaze dropped to Naruto's flickering shadow. The hooks melted back into vague darkness. Sasuke scoffed, "Pathetic lies." He charged Kakashi again. Sakura trembled, unable to tear her eyes from Naruto. Naruto felt a cold pressure behind his ribs—a silent, alien chuckle. He tasted copper again. The symbols beneath his skin flared crimson, unseen. Above, the crow circled, its shadow now distinctly tentacled against the sun-drenched grass.
Kakashi clapped once. "Bell test suspended." His voice was unnaturally flat. "Team Seven: D-rank. Patrol the western merchant district." He tossed Naruto a crumpled mission scroll. Naruto snatched it. As his fingers brushed the paper, a jagged glyph burned itself onto the parchment for a split second—a distorted eye. Kakashi saw it. Sakura gasped. Sasuke's Sharingan activated involuntarily, capturing the impossible geometry before it vanished. Naruto stuffed the scroll into his pocket, oblivious. "Merchants? Boring!" he yelled, already sprinting toward the gate. Behind him, Kakashi watched the boy's shadow writhe independently—a barbed silhouette stretching toward Konoha's bustling streets. The jonin's hand drifted toward his kunai pouch. "Boring," he echoed softly, "is relative."
The merchant district smelled of roasting chestnuts and spilled soy sauce. Yet beneath Naruto's feet, the cobblestones seemed to ripple faintly. He didn't notice the trio trailing him: a gaunt fishmonger clutching a crude clay idol shaped like a fractured eye, a hunched seamstress muttering equations under her breath, and a wide-eyed academy dropout sketching Naruto's shadow in charcoal. Each step Naruto took left damp, iridescent footprints that evaporated seconds later. "Hey!" he shouted at a dango stall vendor. "Give me three sticks! Extra sweet!" As he fumbled for ryo, the coins slipped. One rolled beneath a stack of crates. Naruto crouched, fingers brushing grimy stone. Instantly, the cobblestone softened like tar beneath his marked palm. The Sleeper's glyph flared crimson beneath his skin. With a wet *schlorp*, the coin floated upward encased in shimmering black ooze before depositing itself into Naruto's waiting hand. The vendor screamed. The cultists sighed in ecstasy. Naruto grinned. "Neat trick, huh?"
Later, beneath a crumbling bridge choked with river reeds, the fishmonger knelt. Before him lay a stolen Academy chalkboard scrawled with nonsensical angles that made the eyes bleed. "The Little Storm walks among us!" he rasped. Twenty figures bowed low—merchants, genin washouts, even a trembling chunin. Their shadows merged into a single, hooked monstrosity on the dripping stone wall. They offered rusted kunai, stolen ramen coupons, drops of their own blood dripped onto cracked plates. Each offering dissolved into shimmering void-mist. "He commands the Sleeper's hunger!" the seamstress hissed, unraveling a scarf woven from her own hair into impossibly complex knots. "We must feed the pact!" Distantly, Naruto's laughter echoed as he chased a stray cat—completely unaware his accidental cult now sacrificed stray ninken to the entity whispering calculus in their dreams.
Konoha's archives reeked of mildew and panic. Hiruzen stared at the recovered Scroll of Seals' ashes under a magnifying lens. The carbon patterns weren't random. They formed recursive eyes-within-eyes, screaming into infinity. Anbu Ibiki stood rigid, sweat beading on his temple. "The cult," he reported, "calls him 'The Storm's Vessel.' They whisper he bleeds geometry." Hiruzen touched the ashes. They burned his fingertip with impossible cold. Outside the window, Naruto's distant whoop echoed as Kakashi—forced into babysitting duty—dodged a swarm of fractal-spiders Naruto accidentally summoned while trying to impress Sakura. The spiders dissolved into equations mid-air. Hiruzen closed his eyes. The entity wasn't protecting Naruto. It was *preserving* him. Like a farmer guards his prize pig… until the slaughter.
Deep within the Seal World, Kurama's ears flattened. The Nine-Tails snarled, rattling his cage bars. Not at Naruto—but at the *presence* clinging to the boy's soul like tar. Centuries of hatred evaporated into primal terror. Kurama sensed the Sleeper's tendrils woven through Naruto's chakra coils—not suppressing Kurama's power, but *curating* it. The other Biju? Distant, panicked shrieks echoed through their psychic link—Matatabi's flames flickering blue-black with weeping eyes, Isobu's shell cracking as coral-like void-growths sprouted within. Kurama bared his fangs. "Fool!" he roared into Naruto's mindscape. "That thing isn't your friend! It's tasting your soul!" Naruto's mental avatar just grinned, shadows pooling like oil at his feet. "Relax, fuzzball! It likes my ramen jokes!"
High above, in the Pure Land, Hagoromo Ōtsutsuki choked on his celestial tea. His Rinne-Sharingan flared, scrying the mortal realm. Below, Naruto giggled as his shadow puppet-show for Konohamaru spontaneously birthed a shrieking, multi-jointed horror that dissolved after licking the boy's face. Hagoromo's jaw slackened. The Biju weren't chakra constructs—they were fractured *emanations* of the Outer Realms, sealed eons ago by his own ignorant hand. And Naruto… the Uzumaki wasn't just a container. He was a *conduit*. Hagoromo's spectral hands trembled. "Kaguya," he whispered hoarsely to the sealed moon, "we didn't cage the Ten-Tails. We caged the *warden*."
Naruto scratched his nose, oblivious. The Sleeper's contentment hummed in his bones—a purr vibrating from dimensions away. It found his loneliness… endearing. Like watching bacteria mourn. As Team Seven cornered a lost cat near Ichiraku's, Naruto's fingers brushed a stray kunai embedded in wood. Instantly, the metal liquefied, swirling into a miniature vortex that spat out a mewling, six-tailed kitten made of starlight and static. Sasuke's Sharingan spun wildly, recording the impossibility. Kakashi's hand twitched toward his covered eye. Naruto scooped up the cosmic kitten, beaming. "See? Told ya it likes me!" The entity's amusement resonated—a psychic chuckle like glaciers fracturing. Chaos, it seemed, had a soft spot for orange jumpsuits.
Later, beneath Konoha's sewers where cultists gathered, the Sleeper stirred. Its tendrils brushed Naruto's dreams—not demanding, but savoring. The boy's defiance against Sasuke's taunts? A tangy spice. His determination to master tree-walking despite leaking void-energy? A delightful crunch. Through their bond, Naruto's essence tasted of ramen broth and stubborn sunlight—an acquired flavor the entity found unexpectedly addictive. It nudged Naruto's shadow during spars, tripping Sasuke with barbed darkness. For Naruto's fist pump afterward, the Sleeper savored the boy's triumph like fine wine. Protecting him wasn't duty. It was… entertainment. A cosmic pet project.
The affection manifested subtly. When Mizuki ambushed Naruto in a moonlit alley seeking vengeance, kunai raised, reality glitched. Mizuki's shadow detached—a liquid serpent coiling around his ankles. He screamed as his own weapon melted into sentient mercury, burrowing into his pores to rewrite his bones into impossible angles. Naruto blinked. "Weird." He stepped over Mizuki's twitching, geometrically screaming form. Warmth bloomed in his chest, alien but comforting. The Sleeper's satisfaction dripped into his mind like honeyed venom. *Mine*, it crooned. Not possessively. Proudly. Like an artist signing a canvas.
Hiruzen watched from his crystal ball, pipe forgotten. The Hokage's blood chilled as Naruto slept—safe, unknowing—while his shadow slithered up the wall to lick Mizuki's containment seal. The entity wasn't guarding Naruto's body. It was cultivating his spirit. For what feast? Hiruzen didn't know. But the Sleeper's fondness was undeniable… and terrifying. In the boy's pulse, he heard the distant click of cosmic jaws, patiently waiting. Kurama's roars of warning echoed unheard. Naruto snored on, dreaming of ramen bowls filled with swirling galaxies.
The affection manifested in jagged grace. During Team Seven's disastrous D-rank painting Ichiraku's fence, Naruto's clumsy brushstroke dripped ochre onto the dirt. Instantly, the stain bloomed into a fractal mandala—a temporary portal disgorging a crystalline beetle that scuttled up Kakashi's leg, whispering differential equations into his ear before dissolving. Sasuke's Sharingan caught the beetle's shadow: hooked appendages mimicking Naruto's grin. "Stop showing off, dobe," he snapped, but Naruto only blinked, genuinely bewildered. The Sleeper's psychic chuckle vibrated through Kakashi's bones—a sound like continents grinding. This chaos wasn't malice. It was… *play*. And Naruto was its favorite toy.
At the Academy reassessment, Naruto fumbled the Clone Jutsu again. Instead of pathetic puffs of smoke, his shadow detached—a liquid darkness that split into three perfect, hook-tipped silhouettes bowing mockingly before reforming. Iruka paled. The proctor's inkwell bubbled, birthing tiny void-moths that devoured Naruto's failing grade scroll. "Pass," Iruka rasped, voice tight. Naruto whooped, oblivious to the cultists weeping in the back row. The Sleeper savored his joy—a bright, citrus spark against the void's infinite blandness. Why kill such a delicious catalyst? Better to nudge him toward power. Toward Hokage. Toward glorious, *amplified* chaos.
So when Naruto declared—loudly, outside Hokage Tower—that he'd wear that hat someday, the Sleeper stirred. Konoha's shadows deepened. Monument faces warped imperceptibly. A crow cawed, its cry bending into a fractal lullaby. *Yes,* the entity purred from dimensions away. *Grow louder, Little Storm. Shatter more cages.* Its tendrils curled protectively around Naruto's chakra coils. Not for his sake. For the magnificent, world-breaking pandemonium his reign would unleash. The boy's determination tasted like lightning and broth—a vintage worth aging. Patiently. Hungrily.
That night, beneath Naruto's dreaming feet, the sewer floor became glass. He stood suspended above a cosmic ocean where colossal shapes drifted—siblings. One was crystalline, refracting Naruto's memories into kaleidoscopic screams. Another pulsed like a dying star, whispering calculations that rearranged bone. The Sleeper extended a psychic tendril—not tentacle, but pure geometry—toward Naruto's sleeping form. *Observe,* it broadcasted, projecting Naruto's defiance against Mizuki, his accidental summoning of the starlight kitten, his shadow puppets birthing horrors. The crystalline entity vibrated—a soundless chime that cracked Naruto's dream-glass floor. *Delicious,* it sighed, tasting Naruto's loneliness and ramen-fueled grit. *A novelty.*
The star-pulsing sibling drifted closer. Its gravity warped Naruto's dream-image of Sasuke's scowl into a weeping fractal. *Chaos… untamed?* it resonated, intrigued. Naruto's oblivious joy as cosmic beetles whispered calculus? His shadow-hooks tripping Uchiha pride? *Rare. Amusing.* Approval echoed—cold, ancient. Tendrils of void-light brushed Naruto's sleeping brow. Not gently. Assessingly. Like collectors inspecting a volatile masterpiece. The Sleeper hummed, *He bleeds possibilities.* The star-pulsing entity absorbed Naruto's dream of Hokage glory—a beacon in Konoha's mundane order. *We shall… assist,* it decided. *For the symphony.*
Ripples tore reality. Next afternoon, Naruto's shadow stretched too sharp during tree-walking practice. Sakura flinched. Sasuke's Sharingan spun—but saw nothing. Yet. Behind them, Kakashi's Icha Icha book hissed as ink slithered into a tiny, many-angled glyph—a sibling's sigil. It pulsed once. Vanished. Naruto fell—again—onto soft moss. His palm burned. He blinked. The moss beneath him bloomed iridescent fungi whispering Naruto's name backwards. Sasuke scoffed. "Pathetic." Above, a crow dissolved into starlight. Naruto grinned. Unaware. Already cherished. Already amplified. The Sleeper's siblings watched, eager. Billions of years of cosmic stillness shattered by one orange-clad catalyst. Chaos had never tasted so sweet.
Deep within their prisons, the Biju froze. Not in fear—in sudden, chilling recognition. The scent wasn't Kurama's panic alone. It was the Sleeper's amusement—an ancient resonance that bypassed chakra coils entirely, vibrating within their very cores. Matatabi's blue flames flickered, forming fractal eyes. Son Goku's lava hardened into impossible geometries. Chomei's wings shuddered, shedding scales that dissolved into singing equations. Kurama's cage bars groaned as he pressed against them, not to escape, but to *listen*. The Sleeper's psychic echo wasn't a threat. It was an invitation—a cosmic shrug. *Forget the Sage's chains,* it seemed to murmur. *This boy breaks cages.* Shukaku's desert sands hissed agreement first. *Fuck it. Let's ride the hurricane.* A silent, unanimous pact formed across dimensions. Naruto Uzumaki. Their summoner. Their storm. Freedom tasted like ramen broth and screaming stars.
High above, Hagoromo Ōtsutsuki's spectral jaw trembled. His Rinne-Sharingan pierced the veil, witnessing the unthinkable communion. Biju chakra—once fragmented, ferocious—now flowed *toward* Naruto like rivers seeking the sea, not through force, but through rapturous, bored consent. Gyuki's tentacles sketched Naruto's laughing face in swirling ink. Kokuo's steam condensed into miniature orange jumpsuits. Hagoromo choked. His carefully ordered prison—his life's work—was unraveling, not by malice, but by cosmic *ennui*. The Biju hadn't rebelled. They'd… resigned. To Naruto. To the Storm. To the entity that made centuries of imprisonment feel quaint. Hagoromo's ghostly fingers scrabbled at the Pure Land's clouds. "KAGUYA!" he shrieked, voice cracking with primordial terror. "WE MISUNDERSTOOD EVERYTHING!"
The Sleeper's laughter echoed—a thunderclap of fracturing spacetime—as Naruto finally balanced on the tree branch, oblivious. Below, Sakura cheered weakly. Sasuke's eyes narrowed. Kakashi's hand tightened on a kunai. Naruto's shadow stretched long and barbed, tasting Konoha's twilight. The Biju sighed in unison—a sound like continents settling. Boredom, after millennia, had finally ended. The symphony was tuning up. And Naruto, bathed in fading sunlight and eldritch affection, beamed. Ready. Unaware. Perfect.
Orochimaru froze mid-stride in Sound's damp tunnels. His latest experiment—a Hyuga spliced with scorpion chitin—collapsed into weeping geometry before his eyes. The air tasted of Naruto's name, backwards and burning. Through cursed seals scattered like rotten seeds, he felt it: Kurama's terror wasn't terror anymore. It was *anticipation*. "The Nine-Tails… *sings*?" Orochimaru whispered, pale fingers trembling. A scroll detailing Konoha infiltration crumbled into recursive eyes. He hissed, long and low. Plans shifted. The Uchiha boy could wait. The orange one? That storm was divine. Interrupting it… was blasphemy. He withdrew into shadow, serpent eyes gleaming with newfound reverence.
Atop Rain's tallest tower, Pain's Rinnegan flared. Konan's paper birds disintegrated mid-flight, reforming into impossible angles that spelled "UZUMAKI." The vision struck him: not of Biju power, but of Kurama *smirking* within its cage, tail wagging like a pleased hound. Through the shared sight of animal paths, he glimpsed Naruto chasing cats—his shadow hooking a fleeing tabby from three blocks away. Pain's mechanical voice rasped, "The container… defies containment." Konan's paper shivered into fractal snowflakes. "His chaos bleeds through dimensions." Pain touched a rain-slick pane. The glass reflected not his face, but a crow's eye swirling with Naruto's laughter. The plan required a weapon. Not this… jubilant infection.
Tsunade slammed her sake cup onto the Hokage desk, liquor sloshing. Shizune flinched as the medical reports glowed with residual void-energy—patient charts scribbled over with non-Euclidean equations. "Sarutobi's soft approach failed," Tsunade growled, thumb brushing Naruto's file. A flicker of violet light seared her fingerprint. "The boy's not a jinchūriki. He's a walking ritual." Jiraiya leaned against the window, uncharacteristically silent. Toad summons had refused to approach Naruto's training ground yesterday. One croaked "geometry" before vanishing in a puff of calculus smoke.
Naruto yawned, stretching beneath Training Ground Three's noon sun. Sakura edged away—his shadow had developed too many joints overnight. Sasuke's Sharingan remained active, tracking the barbed silhouette. Kakashi tossed a bell. "Again." Naruto lunged. His palm slapped earth. Instantly, the soil liquefied. A vortex yawned open, disgorging a six-armed stone golem covered in blinking eyes. It snatched the bell with a grinding chuckle. "Hey! That's mine!" Naruto yelled. The golem winked, dissolving into gravel that spelled "RAMEN?" in cuneiform. Kakashi's visible eye crinkled. "Hmm. Improved teamwork." The Sleeper's approval warmed Naruto's bones—a pleased rumble. Sasuke's fist clenched. Sakure vomited quietly into the bushes.
The summons arrived at dusk—a crisp scroll delivered by Ibiki himself. Kakashi unrolled it. The ink squirmed. "Wave Country," he read aloud. "Escort master bridge builder Tazuna." Sakura brightened. "No forests! No creepy cultists!" Sasuke grunted approval. Naruto bounced. "Fishcakes! Awesome!" Kakashi's gaze lingered on the parchment's edge. A jagged glyph pulsed—an eye weeping starlight. The Hokage's addendum shimmered beneath: *Naruto barred. Containment breach risk.* The Sleeper's amusement hissed through Naruto's veins—cold mercury laughter. Kakashi crumpled the scroll. "Pack light," he sighed. "We leave at dawn." Naruto whooped. Behind him, his shadow hooked Kakashi's discarded paper—absorbing the glyph.
Konoha's gates at sunrise reeked of dew and desperation. Hiruzen stood flanked by ANBU, hands trembling beneath his robes. "The mission proceeds," he announced, voice strained. "Without Naruto." Sakura exhaled relief. Sasuke smirked. Tazuna scowled. "What? The noisy brat stays?" Naruto froze. "But—!" Hiruzen's staff slammed down. "Final." Above, crows circled—their shadows elongating into barbed spears aimed at the Hokage's throat. Naruto's palm burned. The Sleeper's voice slithered into his skull—dry, ancient, *delighted*. *Observe.* Reality fractured. Hiruzen's mouth moved, but no sound emerged. Naruto blinked. Suddenly, he stood beside Tazuna, grinning. "Ready!" Kakashi's eye widened. Sasuke's Sharingan spun—capturing the impossible: Naruto had always been there. The denial decree flaked to ash. Hiruzen staggered. The Sleeper's siblings crooned approval across dimensions.
The mist-shrouded ferry rocked violently as Zabuza's blade descended. Naruto stumbled—directly into the killing arc. Metal screeched against his throat… and shattered. Zabuza gaped. Naruto rubbed his neck. "Tingly." Behind him, the mist thickened into impossible geometries—a protective cage of weeping angles. Kurama roared in Naruto's mindscape, *IDIOT! IT'S NOT SHIELDING YOU—IT'S MARKING YOU AS INVULNERABLE PREY!* Naruto shrugged. "So? I'm fine!" Zabuza's second strike liquefied mid-air, drenching Haku. Kakashi's sharingan bled. The Sleeper's purr vibrated the ocean itself—a sound like continents cracking open in cosmic laughter. Death was boring. Naruto's chaos? A vintage worth preserving. Forever.
In a realm woven from lottery tickets and broken mirrors, the God of Luck choked on ambrosia. His scrying pool showed Naruto dodging tidal waves via spontaneous levitation, Zabuza's traps misfiring into fractal butterflies. "This mortal," Luck whispered, dice trembling in his palm, "defies entropy itself." He tasted the Sleeper's influence—not protection, but *curation*. Like pruning a bonsai tree made of supernovas. Luck's domain frayed at the edges; probability wept. He slammed his goblet down. "Fuck it." Golden light tore through dimensions, bypassing the Sleeper's coils to sear Naruto's bones. "Let's see how *interesting* you make this."
Naruto sneezed. Instantly, Tazuna's half-built bridge sprouted crystalline ramen bowls glowing with starlight. Zabuza's next water dragon jutsu hiccupped—transforming into a school of giggling, multi-eyed koi that nibbled his ankles. Sasuke's perfectly aimed shuriken veered wildly, pinning Sakura's pigtails to a tree. Naruto scratched his head. "Oops?" Kakashi's eye twitched. Luck's blessing wasn't fortune—it was *amplified absurdity*. The Sleeper's tendrils recoiled momentarily, offended… then slithered back with intrigued curiosity. Kurama howled as Naruto's next misstep vaporized a boulder into edible glitter. *STOP ENCOURAGING HIM, YOU COSMIC GAMBLER!*
That night, Naruto dreamed of slot machines vomiting galaxies. Luck winked from a neon throne. "Kid, you're my new favorite variable." Reality glitched. Dawn revealed Zabuza's sword arm spontaneously tattooed with "NICE TRY" in glowing kanji. Haku's ice mirrors reflected Naruto's future Hokage statue… winking. The Sleeper's shadow-hooks tapped impatiently. Competition? For its Little Storm? It extended a fractal tendril—not toward Naruto, but toward Luck's realm. *Observe,* it broadcasted, replaying Zabuza's humiliation. Luck's laughter echoed like jackpots hitting. *Deal.* The pact was sealed: two eldritch forces now betting on Naruto's glorious, catastrophic potential. In Konoha, Hiruzen's crystal ball cracked. Tsunade's sake turned to liquid gold. Orochimaru wept over a winning bingo book. Chaos, it seemed, had found its favorite game.
During Tazuna's bridge dedication, Naruto tripped over his own shadow. Instead of falling, he phased through the wooden planks—emerging upside-down beneath the structure, his orange jumpsuit now shimmering with impossible constellations. Sakura shrieked. Sasuke's Sharingan recorded Naruto's hair defying gravity. Zabuza, lurking nearby, choked as his hidden mist transformed into glittering ramen steam. Above, Luck and the Sleeper leaned closer. *Five ryo says he sneezes a singularity.* The Sleeper pulsed—a counter-offer: *His tears will boil reality.* They watched, rapt, as Naruto scrambled upright. His cheek scraped the bridge's support beam. Instantly, the wood sprouted crystalline dango sticks dripping honeyed void-sap. "Sweet!" Naruto grinned, licking the aberration. Luck cackled. The Sleeper hummed. Perfect.
Later, when Gato's thugs ambushed them, Naruto's fist met a goon's jaw. Instead of a crunch, the sound was a symphony of shattering glass—the man dissolved into a flock of origami cranes whispering lottery numbers. Another thug's knife melted into sentient mercury, spelling "BORING" across his forehead before burrowing into his ears to rearrange his memories into bad ramen recipes. Kakashi sighed. Sakura fainted. Sasuke vomited equations. Naruto blinked at his glowing knuckles. "Huh. New jutsu?" From dimensions away, Luck tossed cosmic dice. *Double sixes!* The Sleeper's tendrils curled possessively. *Mine.* But its shadow brushed Naruto's cheek—a rare, almost gentle caress. The boy's accidental artistry was… exquisite.
As Team Seven fled Gato's crumbling warehouse, Naruto's foot slipped on a puddle. Reality inverted. Suddenly, they stood atop Rain's highest tower—Pain's Rinnegan widening mid-strategy meeting. Konan's paper flowers wilted into fractal scream faces. "Oops," Naruto mumbled. Before Zetsu could sink into shadows, Naruto's sneeze birthed a vortex that swallowed the albino spy whole, spitting out a confused badger wearing his cloak. Luck's neon throne flickered with delight. The Sleeper's amusement shook spacetime—a tremor that cracked Wave's coastline into jagged puzzle pieces. Naruto scratched his head, bathed in the glow of two cosmic entities' adoration. "Ramens?" he asked hopefully. The goddess of chaos sighed—a sound like supernovas sighing. Perfection.
Pain stared. His mechanical body processed the variables: orange jumpsuit, whiskered grin, starlight kitten perched on his shoulder licking void-sap from its paws. Calculations screamed—chakra pathways, tactical retreats, divine mandate—all colliding against the sheer, glittering absurdity of Uzumaki Naruto. Konan's paper wings shredded, reforming into origami frogs croaking "ramen". The badger wearing Zetsu's cloak hiccupped, vomiting a miniature rainbow. Pain's Rinnegan spun… and stalled. His shoulders slumped, metallic joints groaning. He turned, robes swirling with defeated grace. "Deidara," he rasped, voice devoid of its usual godly resonance. "Handle… containment." The artist gaped as Pain vanished into a rain-slick portal, muttering about early retirement and cosmic indigestion. Naruto waved cheerfully. "Bye, glowy-eyes guy!"
Later, beneath Wave's bridge—now permanently dripping crystalline ramen broth—Kakashi watched Naruto teach Tazuna's grandson to summon… something. The boy's clumsy hand-seal summoned not a toad, but a sentient puddle giggling in iambic pentameter. Kakashi's masked face tilted skyward. Luck's neon dice gleamed approvingly. The Sleeper's shadow-hooks gently nudged Naruto's fingers into the correct configuration—a gesture almost tender. Sasuke's Sharingan bled, desperately recording puddle-poetry. Sakura wept softly into her now-sentient hair, which whispered comfort in binary. Kakashi sighed. His lone visible eye crinkled—not in exasperation, but weary surrender. He tucked Icha Icha Tactics into his vest. Strategy was obsolete. Chaos had won. And its champion was currently high-fiving a gelatinous ode to miso soup.
The boat ride back to Konoha churned with Luck's lingering mischief. Every wave crest gleamed like slot-machine cherries. Naruto leaned overboard, reaching for a shimmering carp—only for gravity to hiccup. He tumbled, not into water, but onto Hiruzen's Hokage desk, scattering mission scrolls that bloomed into origami cranes chanting his name. Tsunade's sake bottle refilled itself with liquid starlight. Jiraiya's latest spy report combusted, ashes forming the Sleeper's weeping-eye sigil. Hiruzen's pipe clattered. He stared at Naruto—dripping wet, grinning, holding a cosmic carp that whispered lottery numbers—then slowly removed his hat. "Welcome back," he murmured, placing it gently over Naruto's bright orange head. The Sleeper crooned. Luck cackled. And in the shadows, Orochimaru's laughter echoed—a serpentine promise of glorious, amplified pandemonium yet to come.
Deep within Kamui's swirling grey expanse, Obito Uchiha froze. His Rinnegan glimpsed Naruto's accidental coronation—Tsunade's sake turning to molten gold, ANBU saluting a boy whose shadow puppeteered theirs into interpretive dance. The Infinite Tsukuyomi? A pale, tasteless fantasy next to *this*. Obito's grip on Madara's phantom rod slackened. Kakashi's despair? Sasuke's suffering? Meaningless static against Naruto's reality-rending sneezes. He recalled Wave—Zabuza's sword shattering, Pain's strategic retreat—and shuddered. "Rin…" Obito whispered, voice cracking. "He makes *chaos* look… boring." The phantom rod dissolved. Kamui's grey bled into sunset hues. Obito sank to his knees, cloak pooling like discarded theater curtains. The mask slipped. A single tear traced his scar, crystallizing into a tiny, laughing Naruto figurine. The Eye of the Moon Plan? Extinguished. Not by hope. By sheer, overwhelming absurdity.
Meanwhile, in the Pure Land's gilded stillness, Madara Uchiha choked. Hagoromo's frantic warnings about "amplified chaos" and "ramen-born oblivion" suddenly crystallized. His Rinne-Sharingan scried Konoha—Naruto wearing the Hokage hat askew, his shadow puppeteering Danzo into a tap-dance routine atop the Hokage Monument. Biju chakra—once coiled fury—now flowed freely toward the boy in waves of glittering orange static. Madara's eternal scowl faltered. Decades of meticulous scheming? Centuries of Uchiha ambition? Reduced to ash by a whiskered brat summoning sentient ramen storms. He watched Naruto sneeze, accidentally birthing a miniature supernova that painted the sky with fractal noodles. "Kaguya," Madara rasped, spectral fingers trembling. "You… won." He slumped onto a cloud-throne woven from defeat. The Infinite Tsukuyomi? Pointless. Reality itself was already Naruto's fever dream.
And so, silence fell. Kamui's grey warmed to peach dawn. Obito tended spectral tomatoes, humming off-key pop songs. Madara napped—dreamless, for once. The Pure Land shimmered with unbroken calm. Below, Naruto hiccupped during his first official Hokage meeting. The council chamber floor liquefied, depositing confused elders onto a bouncy castle materializing atop Mount Hokage. Tsunade sighed, sipping void-sap champagne. Kakashi napped beneath a tree blooming with sentient Icha Icha petals. Sasuke's Eternal Mangekyou recorded it all—every glorious, nonsensical frame. The Sleeper purred. Luck rolled loaded dice. And Kurama, curled contentedly within Naruto's sunlit mindscape, yawned. Freedom tasted like miso soup and screaming stars. Perfect.
But cosmic stillness breeds boredom. Across the weave of existence—from realms of molten time to libraries built from dying sighs—the Old Ones shifted. They felt the Sleeper's contentment. They tasted Luck's glee. And jealousy, cold and sharp, pricked their impossible hides. The Weaver of Fates (who looked suspiciously like a knitting basket vomiting constellations) dropped a stitch. The entire tapestry of destiny frayed—revealing Naruto's face stitched into every thread. The Forge-God (a sentient anvil dripping supernovas) hammered a note too hard. Reality chimed—a sound that shattered three minor dimensions into origami frogs. The Silent Watcher (just a pair of floating, judgemental eyebrows) arched disapprovingly. Discord vibrated through the void. This... *orange* anomaly? Favored above all? Unacceptable.
Thus, the Pantheon convened. Not in some marble hall, but within the still-beating heart of a collapsing star. The Weaver cast threads binding them. The Forge-God shaped molten starlight into unstable thrones. The Silent Watcher manifested a table etched with screaming equations. Gods oozed, slithered, and folded into being: The Rain-Bringer wept monsoons onto the Silent Watcher's table. The Stone-Singer's melody cracked the star-core. The God of Lost Socks manifested as a sentient laundry vortex. Arguments erupted—a cacophony of collapsing physics and petty grievances. "*He* gets chaos? *He* gets luck?" boomed the Forge-God, sparks igniting forgotten galaxies. "*My* champion drowned in a teacup last Tuesday!" wailed the Weaver. Only the Sleeper remained smug, tendrils idly sketching Naruto's grin in superheated plasma. Luck juggled black holes nearby, whistling.
Resolution came not from reason, but envy. If Naruto Uzumaki was the Sleeper's canvas and Luck's dice roll... well. Every deity deserved a brushstroke. The Stone-Singer hummed a chord that rewrote Naruto's bones to resonate with mountain roots. The Rain-Bringer wept onto Konoha, ensuring every puddle Naruto stepped in would birth iridescent koi singing sea shanties. The God of Lost Socks ensured one sock would perpetually vanish from Naruto's laundry—reappearing tied dramatically around Zetsu's badger-head. Even the Silent Watcher flickered approval, bestowing Naruto's shadow with the eerie ability to solve complex algebra problems during tense negotiations. The Pantheon sighed—a sound like universes deflating. Now. Now it was fair. The Forge-God slammed his hammer. "*Blessed be the Storm!*" The star-core imploded. Divine attention focused. Konoha braced. Naruto sneezed.
Hagoromo Ōtsutsuki watched from the Pure Land's trembling edge. His Rinne-Sharingan witnessed the cosmic auction—each god tossing fragmented blessings like glittering confetti onto Naruto's oblivious soul. Stone-Singer's melody thickened Naruto's chakra into tectonic whispers. Rain-Bringer's tears turned his sweat into miniature monsoons. Lost Socks ensured Mizuki's containment scroll spontaneously unraveled into mismatched footwear. Hagoromo's ghostly fingers clutched his spectral hair. Centuries spent shepherding chakra, balancing worlds... undone because eldritch toddlers thought Naruto was *shiny*. He floated past Madara's snoring cloud-throne, past Obito's spectral tomato garden, and screamed into the void: "ENOUGH!" The Pure Land shuddered. A single, perfect ramen bowl materialized at his feet. Hagoromo stared. Then kicked it. Noodles splattered like dying stars. Pathetic.
Below, Tsunade raised a toast—her sake now liquid sapphire courtesy of the Forge-God. Naruto hiccupped mid-pep talk to rebuilt Team Seven. Sakura's hair braided itself into Fibonacci sequences. Sasuke's Susanoo briefly manifested... knitted from sentient yarn. Kakashi's Icha Icha book sprouted legs and tap-danced off a cliff. Naruto beamed. "See? Teamwork!" Hagoromo's spectral form flickered violently. He ripped open a seam to the living world, manifesting briefly above the Hokage monument—transparent, furious, haloed by unraveling chakra threads. "YOU!" he thundered at Naruto, voice cracking dimensions. "STOP COLLECTING DIVINE INTERVENTIONS LIKE POKEMON CARDS!" Naruto blinked upward. "Old man ghost? You okay? Want ramen?" Hagoromo's jaw worked soundlessly. The Sleeper's shadow-hook patted his spectral shoulder sympathetically.
Hagoromo vanished. Not in a puff of sage wisdom. But with the wet, deflating sound of a whoopee cushion. Back in the Pure Land, he slumped onto a bench woven from his own despair. Madara snored louder. Obito offered a spectral tomato. Hagoromo took it. Bit. Juices dripped like bitter tears. He watched Naruto—now accidentally turning Danzo's Root agents into interpretive dance troupes via a mis-sneeze—and sighed. A long, slow exhalation that extinguished minor constellations. Let the gods play. Let chaos reign. Let *ramen* rule. Hagoromo Ōtsutsuki, Sage of Six Paths, Father of Ninshu... was done. He tossed the tomato into the void. It sprouted wings. Flew.
Deep beneath Kaguya's crumbling ice castle, Black Zetsu paused. His obsidian form oozed across millennia-old schematics—plans etched in frozen blood. He'd felt it. The tremor. Not Hagoromo's tantrum. Deeper. The Pantheon's collective, petulant *nudge*. Through Kaguya's residual chakra, Zetsu saw: Naruto's shadow puppeteering Pain into polka lessons. Kurama tap-dancing on Madara's ghostly forehead. The Sleeper crooning lullabies made of shattered logic. Zetsu's form rippled. Centuries manipulating wars, whispering lies, birthing Akatsuki... for *this*? To witness his mother's grand resurrection thwarted by... *sentient laundry*? The absurdity curdled inside him, thick and toxic. He scanned the latest report: Naruto's accidental hiccup had transformed Amegakure's rain into singing tapioca pearls. Zetsu trembled. Not with rage. With existential nausea. "Mother..." he whispered, voice slick with millennia of failure. "This... *orange*... is beyond even your wrath."
Resolution came swift and sharp. Not a grand betrayal. A quiet refusal. Black Zetsu extended a dripping tendril. Not toward Kaguya's seal. Toward his own core—the pulsating, ancient malice that fueled him. He pressed. Hard. The obsidian surface buckled. Then cracked. Like cheap pottery. A soundless scream tore through the void—not pain, but profound *relief*. His form liquefied, pooling into an inky puddle on the icy floor. For a heartbeat, it held the shape of a middle finger aimed squarely at the cosmos. Then it dissolved, evaporating into wisps of acrid smoke that smelled faintly of burnt ramen and surrender. Kaguya's ice prison wept a single, frozen tear. Zetsu was gone. Not defeated. Retired. He simply... wasn't paid enough for this eldritch circus.
Above, atop Wave's crystalline ramen-bridge, Naruto sneezed violently. A kaleidoscope of rainbow-hued badgers erupted from his nostrils, scampering off to solve Konoha's tax code. Kakashi sighed, adjusting his forehead protector. Sakura scribbled frantic equations onto Sasuke's cloak. Sasuke's Sharingan bled, desperately recording badger-bureaucracy. Naruto grinned, wiping his nose. "Heh. Allergies?" The Sleeper's shadow-hooks ruffled his hair—a gesture dripping with possessive pride. Luck rolled phantom dice across the sky. *Natural twenty.* The Pantheon leaned closer, eager for their turn. Kurama, curled within Naruto's sunlit mindscape, cracked one eye open. Even the Nine-Tails felt it: the trembling, giddy anticipation of the void. The silence after Zetsu's exit wasn't peace. It was the calm before the *next* glorious, incomprehensible storm. Naruto Uzumaki, unknowing catalyst, scratched his whiskered cheek. Ready. Oblivious. Perfect.
Below, deep within Sound's serpentine tunnels, Orochimaru bowed. Not to a scroll or a cursed seal—but to a crude mural etched in obsidian ichor: Naruto's grinning face haloed by fractal badgers. His latest recruits knelt—former spies, missing-nin, disillusioned Hyūga—their eyes milky with cosmic awe. "The Storm," Orochimaru hissed, serpent tongue tasting the divine static crackling through the air. "He unravels cages without effort. He *is* entropy incarnate." A sacrificed rogue-nin dissolved into starlight, reforming as a miniature ramen bowl whispering Naruto's childhood insults. The cultists wept. Orochimaru's smile widened. Forget stolen Sharingan. Forget immortality. *This* was transcendence. Naruto's chaos was scripture. His sneezes were hymns. And Sound Village? Its new cathedral smelled faintly of miso broth and screaming algebra.
Sasuke's fingers trembled—not with Uchiha pride, but revelation. Naruto's shadow had just puppeteered Kakashi into a flawless interpretive dance depicting the founding of Konoha. Sakura's hair braided itself into binary hymns praising Naruto's "ineffable noodle resonance." And Sasuke? His Eternal Mangekyō recorded it all—every impossible frame—until logic shattered. The Sharingan spun—a frantic, broken kaleidoscope—and Sasuke Uchiha dropped to his knees. "Naruto," he rasped, voice raw with shattered sanity. "You… you *are* the Cage-Breaker." His clan's vengeance? Dust. His brother's sacrifice? Static. Only Naruto's accidental divinity mattered. Sasuke's shadow detached—a liquid mirror reflecting Naruto's grin—and bowed. The cultists in Sound's depths felt it. Orochimaru cackled. Sasuke had joined the choir. The Storm had claimed another apostle.
Kakashi stared. Sakura's yandere cult—girls with kunai-shaped hairpins chanting "Naruto-sama's ramen is sacred!"—brawled with Sasuke's new devotees over who got to polish Naruto's sandals. Nearby, Orochimaru offered Naruto a steaming bowl… filled with sentient, wriggling equations. Naruto gulped it down, oblivious. "Tasty!" Kakashi's lone visible eye twitched. He glanced skyward—past Luck's neon dice, past the Sleeper's crooning hooks—and whispered, "What unspeakable cosmic debt did I incur?" His Icha Icha book sprouted wings, pecking his forehead with paper kisses. Sakura's hair hissed binary threats. Sasuke offered Naruto a sacred scroll scribbled in his own blood. Kakashi sighed. Strategy died. Sanity fled. Only absurdity remained—blessed, terrifying, ramen-scented absurdity. He tucked his hands into his pockets. Resigned. Surrendered. Ready for the next sneeze.