Chapter 193 - 2

In Konoha Village, Naruto was all too familiar with the way the villagers looked at him—disgust, wariness, occasionally laced with an indefinable fear.He didn't want to give those people one more reason to stare at him.Moreover, there was no record of anything like "opening the Heavenly Eye" in the Konoha Ninjasystem, and even Grandma Tsunade's Medical Ninjutsu couldn't provide an explanation.He only knew that on the day he transmigrated into this world, his forehead had felt as if it had been branded by a hot iron, and ever since, whenever his emotions fluctuated violently, his vision would dim, as if covered by a layer of grey gauze.Through that grey gauze, he could see things that shouldn't exist.For instance, yesterday, he bumped into someone at the edge of the training ground.The figure was wearing an ancient, greyish-white robe, half of their face hidden by a hood, standing beneath a withered tree.Naruto shouted "Hey" from afar, but the figure didn't answer; it simply turned its body to glance at him, then dissipated like smoke.There was nothing beneath the robe—no feet, no contact with the ground, only a patch of floating shadow.Later, Naruto heard that three months ago, a squad had been attacked outside this training ground, and a Jonin had died, found leaning against that very withered tree with no external injuries.He couldn't tell anyone about such things.He had tried telling Iruka that once, while passing by an abandoned shrine, he saw a black river flowing upwards from the ground, but Iruka just frowned and told him to stop going to such dangerous places.He had tried mentioning to Jiraiya that he could occasionally see some "transparent things," but Jiraiya had been silent for a moment before saying that a Ninja must learn to distinguish between genjutsu and reality.That wasn't genjutsu.Naruto remembered the moment he transmigrated to the Naruto World very clearly.It wasn't the Uzumaki Naruto being born after the Nine-Tailed was sealed according to the original plot, but a different process—his consciousness was pulled from his original world like being yanked out of water by a hand, and suddenly dragged into this body.The body was very small, and everything around it was filled with blood and thick, black Chakra.Something had passed through his body at that moment, as if he were being pierced, yet also as if he were being infused.The bones on the top of his head emitted a faint cracking sound, and something grew outward from the inside of his skull, finally solidifying on his forehead.Later, he looked in the mirror, but there was nothing on his forehead.But when he touched it with his finger, he could feel an extremely thin line extending straight upward from between his eyebrows into his hairline.After that, he could "see" more and more things.Usually after the sun went down, or in dimly lit rooms.Those things existed in the cracks between worlds, with irregular shapes—some like floating mist, some like elongated human shapes, and some were simply a kind of sound—without a source, ringing in his ears, only to disappear when he turned his head.Naruto slowly figured out the patterns: most of these "things" had no malice; they simply existed, like stones by the roadside.But some were different.Once, while executing a D-rank mission, he was helping an old man clear weeds in his yard.The old man said he heard knocking in the warehouse and suspected rats.Naruto pulled open the warehouse door, and a gust of cold air rushed at him, completely mismatched with the temperature outside.A monster was standing in the corner of the warehouse.Its body looked like it was piled up from mud, its limbs were thick and short, its head was disproportionately large, its mouth split open to its ears, and its teeth were sparse and yellowish.It didn't attack Naruto, but just stared in the direction of the house where the old man lived, thick liquid dripping from the corners of its mouth, like drool or melted grease.Naruto pretended not to see anything, locked the warehouse back up, and then returned that night to paste a circle of talisman papers he had drawn himself on the outer wall of the warehouse—it was a "House-Protecting Five-Direction Spell" he had found at an old book stall, copied by hand, though he didn't know if it would work.The next day, the old man said the knocking had stopped.Naruto himself wasn't sure if the concept of an "Onmyoji" was valid in Konoha.He knew that in this body in this world, a certain power was slowly awakening, like an undercurrent surging beneath the ice.He could perceive that power seeping outward through the line on his forehead, like tentacles probing into the surrounding space, capturing those things in the air that did not belong to the human world.He had tried to make contact with some of them by concentrating his consciousness to transmit simple thoughts—not speaking, but tossing thoughts out like throwing stones.Some responded, carrying a texture similar to gas vibration, burning vague shapes into his mind.That was the prototype of a contract.It was written very clearly in the book from the old book stall: the connection between an Onmyoji and a Shikigami required seals, a contract, or a Ryūteki.He had no sealing scrolls in his hand, understood no seal arrays, and certainly no one had voluntarily handed him a Ryūteki.All he could do was, when he saw those things, extend a hand, press his will into his fingertips, and wait.Wait to see if they were willing to approach.So far, no monster had responded to him.The vending machine suddenly made a loud noise.Naruto turned his head to look; the lightbulb of an old machine standing at the alley entrance was flickering, and the beverage pictures on the screen were changing, jumping from cola to orange juice to oolong tea, finally stopping on a blurry image that was definitely not a beverage.That image was a part of some kind of pattern, dark brown, filled with spiral lines.Naruto stared at it for five seconds, and the machine screen returned to normal.He took a deep breath, slowly exhaled, and sank his consciousness into that line on his forehead.His vision dimmed by another layer, and the moment the grey gauze fell, he saw something crouching beside the vending machine.It wasn't tall, reaching about to his chest, covered in moss-like green, its head like an inverted pottery jar, with no facial features.Its right hand held a withered branch, the fork of the branch pointing at Naruto, as if identifying him.Naruto's right hand gripped the Kunai at his waist.The thing didn't move.It maintained the posture of holding the branch, like a stone statue forgotten by the side of the road.Naruto could perceive the information it transmitted—not language, not images, but a feeling similar to water temperature, alternating between cold and hot, reminding one of freshly drawn well water.That feeling was mixed with a sense of probing, like a snake flicking its tongue."Do you want to come with me?" Naruto asked in a low voice.The thing tilted its pottery-jar head.Then, a flower suddenly sprouted from the tip of the withered branch it was holding.The flower was small, white, with faint blue light on the edges of its petals, trembling in the night breeze before withering.The petals fell one by one onto the surface of the vending machine, landing in front of Naruto's shoe tips, like some kind of signal.Naruto crouched down and extended a finger to touch that blue petal.The sensation from his fingertip felt like being struck by a weak electric current, instantly darting up his arm's meridians to his shoulder, pouring into his skull, and then converging on the line on his forehead.His pupils dilated slightly, and the grey-gauze-like shadows in his vision began to twist and shrink, finally converging into a point of light above the green thing's head.The light point was very small, like a firefly, flickering twice before extinguishing.A mark appeared in his mind.It was not text or an image, but a rhythm—like a heartbeat, but half as slow, thump—tap—thump—tap, each interval as accurate as a metronome.This was a language.It was using this rhythm to confirm something with him.Naruto closed his eyes and replied to that rhythm with his own heartbeat.Thump—tap—thump—tap.The green thing took a step forward.As it moved, its body emitted the scent of moss and humus, mixed with a faint metallic smell, like ironware washed by rain.It retracted the withered branch, and its pottery-jar head lowered slowly, as if in some kind of tribute ritual.Naruto didn't move.He was waiting.The line on his forehead was burning at that moment, hot enough that he could feel the temperature of his blood through his skin.That rhythm was still echoing in his mind, becoming clearer and more powerful.He knew what this moment meant—it was a contract, not through a sealing scroll, not through a seal array, but through an encounter and a test, through a touch and the resonance of a rhythm.A method he had figured out on his own.Starting tomorrow, he would try to use it.The night in Konoha Village was still deep; the vending machine's light shone lonely, illuminating a small patch of ground.The blue petal on the ground had completely disappeared, as if it had never existed.Only the lingering scent of moss in the air and the faint cool sensation on Naruto's fingertip indicated that everything just now was not an illusion.He stood up, put the Kunai back into his pouch, and walked in the direction of his home.The green thing followed quietly two steps behind him, making no sound at all.There were only the footsteps of one person, drawn out long on the empty street, like a taut string.At the other end of the string hung the first breeze before dawn.The sand grains of the Nara Desert rolled in the wind, like living creatures.Those buried things rotted beneath the sand; the resentment drifted along with the wind and sand, eventually converging into a giant raccoon dog—violet tattoos crawled all over its body, the totem of the wind, the symbol of death.This monster named "Shukaku," from the moment of its birth, only knew one thing: to bury everything it could see with wind and sand.Temari stood at the top of the sand dune, her fingers sliding over the scroll at her waist.The summoned beast named "Kamaitachi" was said to appear only in specific weather—it resembled a weasel, wielding a giant sickle, cutting through skin and flesh without drawing blood or causing pain.Temari remembered the scene of summoning it for the first time; the wind swept through her hair, and that figure appeared from the whirlwind, the sickle gleaming with cold light under the moonlight.In the Hokage's office, mission scrolls were piled into a small mountain.The seals on the scrolls were divided into five grades: S-rank missions concerned the survival of nations, with bounties starting at one million ryo—these were missions for assassinating feudal lords, infiltrating enemy countries, or stealing secrets; A-rank missions concerned the rise and fall of Villages, with bounties from 150,000 to one million ryo, including protecting important people or suppressing Ninja units; B-rank missions meant slaughter between Ninjas, with bounties from 80,000 to 200,000 ryo; C-rank missions involved potential injury, with bounties from 30,000 to 100,000 ryo; D-rank missions were much safer, just finding pets, digging potatoes, or babysitting.One ryo equals ten yen.This conversion rate was carved into the heart of every Ninja.Chakra, that thing, was mysterious to speak of—a product of the fusion of spirit and body, capable of casting Ninjutsu, turning into threads to bind enemies, or even cutting through substances composed of Chakra.The Ninjas of Konoha Village gathered on the training grounds every morning, palms facing each other, feeling that power flowing through their meridians.That kid Naruto always failed to do it well; his Chakra would jump at his fingertips and then dissipate into white mist.He was born on October 10th, the same day as me.Libra, Type B blood.These commonalities made me feel that writing this book was a matter of fate.I liked him from the very beginning—I liked his straightforwardness, his stubbornness, his never-give-up attitude, and his loyalty.The wind and sand came again.Shukaku's roar came from the depths of the desert, and those violet tattoos began to glow.Temari gripped the scroll of Kamaitachi, knowing that some battles were destined to happen.When the children in the Village threw stones at him, he was only seven years old.Those stones glinted in the setting sun, hitting his thin back and making a dull thud.He didn't dodge; he just kept his head down and continued walking forward.The adults by the roadside quickly pulled their children away, as if he carried some infectious disease.Someone spat, the sound not too loud or too soft, just enough for him to hear: "The container of the demon fox."He swallowed those words into his stomach, like swallowing a piece of red-hot iron.A long time later, I sat at my desk, my pen tip hovering over the manuscript paper, ink congealing into a black bead at the tip.I remembered that scene—he had said he wouldn't cry.He had said he would become the greatest hero in the Village.When he said this, the corners of his mouth turned up, revealing a canine tooth, and there was something in his eyes that made it impossible to look away.I have read many texts about that world.Some were written very well, like the story about the Konoha teacher, where every word was like light leaking through the gaps in the leaves, warm and real.Others were like the footprints of a traveler in a hurry, uneven in depth, but one could always see the persistence of the direction.