Warning.
This shit aint chinese but i'm translating it using AI so please expect some mistakes. If you find any tell me so I can fix it.
Thanks.
....
The sound of torn screams, followed by the metallic clash of blood-soaked swords and the explosion of Jutsus launched without rest, echoed across the battlefield like an eternal lament. The chakra in the air was so dense it seemed to press against the lungs, mixing with the smell of iron, mud, and death. Men and women with red hair, bearers of Uzumaki blood, kept fighting fiercely against their enemies, refusing to fall even when their bodies no longer responded, while those enemies fought just as fiercely or even more so, almost sickeningly, almost with madness, driven by fear, hatred, and the ambition to erase a name from history.
The rain fell without mercy, covering the entire battlefield, soaking broken armor and torn clothing, drowning the exhausted and desperate groans of each member of both clans. Each drop struck the earth as if the world itself were crying for that massacre, hiding the blood that seeped into the ground and erasing the footprints of those who had fallen without glory or burial.
Men, children, and the few elders who managed to live that long in a world plagued by wars and death struggled between life and death with their own kind, facing faces not so different from their own. They fought so their side could obtain one more victory, a single victory that justified so many deaths. They did it for the honor of being a warrior, for the honor of being remembered, not as cowards who valued their lives enough to not give them up to an endless cycle of war and hatred—a cycle that served no real purpose other than to feed an endless machine of death. A machine commanded by "prestigious" high-ranking officials who never set foot in the mud of the battlefield, who did not value their warriors, but only their positions, their power, and their own lives.
They fought so they would not be forgotten, so they would be remembered as warriors who died defending the honor of those who had already fallen on similar battlefields, just as they now would under that torrential rain that blurred their vision, numbed their bodies, and made every movement heavier, slower, more desperate.
For some, the rain was not just a natural phenomenon, but a cruel blessing. It served as a layer of comfort that covered the tears of suffering that fell uncontrollably from the faces of those who had watched their brothers, their children, their parents die. No one could distinguish whether what ran down their cheeks was rainwater or tears, and perhaps that was the only thing that allowed them to keep moving forward without breaking completely.
War was never easy.
Amid the roar of metal and the rumble of Jutsus, two figures advanced through the mud and fallen bodies. Makoto Uzumaki breathed with difficulty, his chest burning and his hands trembling from the constant effort of keeping his chakra stable under that suffocating pressure. At his side walked Ashina Uzumaki, upright, with a firm gaze and steady steps, as if the chaos of the battlefield had no power over him.
His mere presence was enough for something to change.
The enemies noticed first. The flow of combat broke when Ashina stepped forward, drawing his two twin swords covered in glowing seals that pulsed with crimson chakra. With a single hand movement, complex seals activated in the air, forming like invisible chains that trapped several enemy shinobi, immobilizing them before they could even scream. An instant later, the ground beneath their feet lit up, and a sealed explosion swallowed them without leaving a trace.
The enemy advance stopped.
Ashina moved like a controlled storm. Every cut was precise, every seal placed at the exact moment, nullifying Jutsus before they were completed, sealing weapons, draining chakra, completely overturning a battle that just minutes ago had seemed lost. Where the Uzumaki once retreated, they now advanced with renewed ferocity, following the trail of destruction Ashina left behind.
Makoto watched him, almost forgetting to fight.
He saw how his brother read the battlefield as if it were an open scroll, anticipating attacks, guiding their people without the need for words. Enemies fell one after another, not by brute force, but by overwhelming brilliance that made everything seem simple. Too simple.
Makoto clenched his teeth and returned to reality when an enemy swung at him. He blocked the blow clumsily but with an almost primal instinct, feeling the impact run through his arms. He tried to respond with a seal, but his hands hesitated for a fraction of a second. It was enough. The enemy pulled back, and Makoto had to take a step back, gasping, aware of how close he had been to dying.
When he lifted his gaze, Ashina was already there, stepping in without even looking at him. A clean cut, an activated seal, and the danger vanished.
"Focus," Ashina said without harshness, but with firmness in his words. "Don't lower your guard." Words that made Makoto bite his tongue.
Makoto straightened, feeling the weight of those words sink into his chest. He admired his brother with every fiber of his being. He wanted to be like him. He wanted to stand at his level. But as he watched him dominate the battlefield, he understood a truth that hurt more than any wound.
He was not like Ashina.
His seals were slower, his chakra control unstable under pressure, his body less trained. While his brother carried the clan's destiny on his shoulders and made it seem natural, Makoto barely managed to survive by following close behind.
Makoto was a reincarnated person, someone who had been given a second chance in the world. When he found himself born in this world, the world of Naruto filled him with hope. He expected something like an overpowered cheat system or something that would carry him to a level beyond strength itself, that would make him known as the very definition of strength. But he was weak—disgustingly weak.
.....
War was never easy. It never was for anyone in the shinobi world, where peace was only a brief interval between one massacre and the next.
The Uzumaki clan was, by nature, a peaceful clan. Their only goal in this land had always been to keep their legacy alive, to preserve their knowledge and their blood for future generations who, sooner or later, would learn from the history of their ancestors. They did not seek to conquer, they did not seek to dominate, only to exist.
They wanted to be remembered in history not as a vile or tyrannical clan, but as a clever, intelligent, strong clan full of vitality. A clan that, despite adversity, refused to disappear.
They were known throughout the ninja world for their brilliance in the use of seals, for a Fuinjutsu that bordered on the incomprehensible even for the greatest experts of other nations. That turned them into a force to be reckoned with, despite coming from a relatively small country, surrounded by treacherous mares and protected by impossible whirlpools.
And they were being hunted for it.
Not now, not from this battle, but from the moment the Uzumaki began to make themselves known for their absolute mastery of seals. Since the rest of the world understood that such knowledge could alter the balance of power among the great nations.
No other clan in history had ever managed to become a power at the level the Uzumaki had achieved.
A small clan whose combined strength could be compared to that of a Bijuu?
Unacceptable.
Allies of one of the most powerful clans in the ninja world?
Unacceptable.
Geniuses in a field that almost no one understood and that almost no one could control, capable of changing the course of a lost battle or turning a single person, through the proper use of seals, into a one-man army?
Unacceptable.
Something like that should not exist.
Humans fear what they cannot control, and shinobi, despite their power, were no exception. They recognized threats quickly, and the Uzumaki clan was one of them. Even more so when adding the fact that the Uzumaki would never allow themselves to be subdued by anyone and did not form alliances with just anyone. It wasn't as if any clan could infiltrate the Land of Whirlpools. Before even getting close to Uzushio, they had to cross the violent whirlpools surrounding the island, a natural defense that had taken countless lives.
To cross them, you had to possess absurd chakra control, superhuman speed, or a Space-Time Jutsu. Or, simply, you had to be an Uzumaki.
And even if you managed to cross that marine hell, a colossal barrier awaited you, one that recognized foreign chakra and immediately alerted the Uzumaki of the village. Many had tried to deactivate it, dreaming of a silent infiltration, but it was impossible. The seal that activated it was not visible, and the barrier was at such a high level that only an Uzumaki could cross it without consequences. Anyone else would be reduced to ashes in a matter of seconds.
According to rumors, there even existed summoned beasts in the depths of the sea—ancient, monstrous creatures that protected Uzushio from the shadows of the ocean. A tenacious clan, indomitable, almost impossible to eradicate.
And even so, despite being allied with the Senju clan, known for producing prodigies who marked the history of the shinobi world, and despite being considered distant cousins of them, the other clans continued hunting them without rest. It had been so since the beginning of history, and it remained so now, in that battlefield drenched in rain and blood.
...
Makoto Uzumaki was raised from young with the unbreakable will to fight for his clan. He grew up with the idea that, when the moment came, he should give his life without hesitation, protect his people, and someday step onto a battlefield to die as a true Uzumaki hero. He always imagined that moment charging toward the enemy, following the back of his older brother, trusting that he would protect him as he always had.
The Uzumaki had a saying repeated like sacred doctrine in every home of the village: "Together we came and together we go. An Uzumaki never abandons another Uzumaki. Your own blood is worth more than riches."
That idealistic mantra was the heart of Uzushio, the foundation that made them strong even when someone didn't have blood siblings. A friend was a brother. A comrade was family.
It was a carefully designed political-social strategy to create that sense of unity from childhood, so each child grew up believing they would never be alone in the ninja world.
But reality was more cruel.
Hatred, envy, and disdain toward the weak existed even there. Sometimes your own "brother" could despise you. If you were weak, the mantra simply stopped applying. That part about "your own people matter more…" was not always respected in the Uzumaki village.
Makoto was never talented enough to be considered a prodigy in Fuinjutsu. Much less did he have the talent to use it in combat as his older brother Ashina Uzumaki did.
Makoto always lived in Ashina's shadow. He was always seen as his successor, an expectation impossible to fulfill.
The problem was that no one understood that Ashina was not the norm, but an anomaly. A prodigy who appeared once every many generations—a talent comparable to Hashirama Senju in terms of raw power and someone far too intelligent for his age. At seventeen, he had already been marked as the future patriarch of the Uzumaki clan thanks to an absurd amount of achievements obtained at such a young age.
From sealing sea beasts that threatened the Land of Uzu and turning them into protective allies, to turning entire battles in favor of his clan against enemies like the Kaguya or the Uchiha—whom they deeply resented due to the conflict with the Senju clan, a key Uzumaki ally.
When the elders understood that the younger brother of the future patriarch was nothing more than a regular Uzumaki, the disappointment was immediate. They did not see in him the beacon that would illuminate the clan after Ashina's inevitable death.
And it all began when Ashina demonstrated overwhelming talent in Kenjutsu, mastering two twin swords with terrifying skill. The two twin swords known as "Blinding Reapers." A rather curious name if you ask me.
Since then, harassment and disdain fell upon Makoto. Those who desired power but didn't have the strength or chakra to face Ashina found in him a perfect target.
Uzumaki Makoto was the disappointment of the Uzumaki clan, and everyone knew it, but even so, Makoto always had his brother's love.
Makoto, despite his lack of training, was always comforted by his brother and always forced to train by him. There was never a day he was allowed to stop and fall into depression, because whenever he tried, Ashina himself came to drag him out of bed to force him to train Fuinjutsu and Kenjutsu.
They knew that one of the prodigy's only weaknesses was his love for his younger brother.
To hurt Ashina, they had to hurt Makoto. Or send him to certain death. Destabilizing him emotionally and mentally was the simplest way to bring down the rising star of the clan.
And that… was something many were willing to attempt.
Quickly, as Ashina did more and more, Makoto fell further into the shadows and was quickly considered a pariah of the Uzumaki clan.
And even so, though that happened and Ashina became increasingly busy, always—somehow Makoto didn't understand—he still took some of his time to train him.
"I love our country and our people, and I know they treat you like this because they think you're not strong, but I believe in you, and I believe that after me, you will be the one to protect Uzushio."
This phrase marked a 9-year-old Makoto, and from that day on, carrying his brother's faith on his shoulders, Makoto worked hard day after day until today.
.....
Today, 7 years later, a 16-year-old Makoto was leading a small unit of Shinobi fighting fiercely against a group of Kaguya clan members.
They had arrived in the Land of Water by order of the current Uzumaki patriarch and his brother to gather information about the current Fuinjutsu techniques the country had available.
In the Land of Water resided clans like the Yagami clan, a clan with which they had established relations and had begun making exchanges.
It wasn't to study them, since the Uzumaki had the most advanced and powerful Fuinjutsu techniques, but rather to exchange some sealing techniques that were of interest to the daimyo in return for resources that only the Land of Water possessed.
Although they had the Fire Daimyo, who was interested in their sealing techniques to distribute throughout the Land of Fire and increase the dependence of the clans on his control of the resources there—which benefited the Uzumaki since if the Daimyo dominated trade in the Land of Fire, that would only mean another stable trade route for the Uzumaki—Uzushio had specifically gone to obtain something that only the Land of Water had.
However, on their way back to the Land of Uzushio, their unit of 15 men had been ambushed by the Kaguya clan, a clan with whom they had had conflicts before. Despite being designated as leader of the mission by his own brother and by the current Uzumaki patriarch, who was his father, no one ever listened to him and preferred to listen to Uzumaki Yashiro, at that time a rising star of the clan who promised much and had a great leadership presence.
The Uzumaki were a strong clan, with astonishing vitality and chakra, and the Kaguya were equally fearsome rivals thanks to their bone manipulation and savagery in combat.
"Jump back!" shouted an Uzumaki Shinobi with great panic in his voice upon sensing a great wave of chakra coming from one of the Kaguya rivals.
Everyone obeyed and jumped back, but those who couldn't escape were impaled by a wave of bones that killed them in a single attack.
The wave of bones magnified beneath the earth and attempted to impale every Uzumaki present, but almost all managed to escape, with the exception of one.
"There are too many—they have us surrounded!" Kashima Uzumaki shouted in panic, the expert sensor having located around ten of them, most at the level of semi–clan leaders.
Yashiro Uzumaki raised his hand and formed hand seals. They were standing in a clearing, although they were somewhat scattered. Yashiro ordered everyone to regroup, and they all abandoned what they were doing and gathered.
The Kaguya also jumped toward the tree line behind them.
Crazy laughter began to echo from the trees.
Yashiro, unshaken, kept a hard look and with sharpened senses aimed his palms at particular trees.
"Uzumaki Style: Spiral Bomb!"
A large ball of compressed chakra gathered in his palms and, aiming it at the enemy, shot forward at high speed.
A massive bone barrier composed of skulls, ribs, hands, and femurs emerged from the ground in front of the Kaguyas, almost successfully blocking the large chakra sphere, which exploded on impact, leaving a curtain of smoke that blocked the Uzumakis' vision.
Suddenly, a great rain of bones shot out from the smoke.
The Uzumaki, demonstrating their mastery of Kenjutsu, managed to deflect the attacks, but some of them couldn't dodge in time, the bone stakes being too fast for them.
This mission wasn't supposed to go like this—it was supposed to be a simple exchange, but everything went terribly wrong. Someone must have leaked information, but Makoto didn't think about that.
"ARRRGGHHH!" Yashiro's cry of pain echoed around the clearing, and Makoto could only grit his teeth and stand in front of his companions, deflecting with his sword the stakes emerging from the tree line.
Yashiro was wounded and bleeding out. A bone stake was lodged in his stomach.
Mira Uzumaki, one of the few women on the team, ordered not to remove the stake, since it was applying pressure in the pierced area and removing it would lead to faster bleeding and possible death.
Makoto frowned and felt the anguish of each of his members. Makoto formed hand seals, raising a large earth wall in front of them.
Knowing there was no escape, he decided to sacrifice himself to give his unit a way out.
Makoto Uzumaki took command from that moment on. Since he wouldn't ask anyone else to give their life for them, he didn't have the strength for that.
'We're close to the beach. If I buy enough time, they can return with the food and chakra-conducting iron materials and bring reinforcements from the Uzumaki Coast Guard.' Makoto Uzumaki's resolve hardened as he unleashed his chakra and determined to protect his fellow Uzumakis.
A bead of sweat trickled down his face.
"If we die here, everything our clan gave in that exchange will be in vain!" Makoto Uzumaki roared bravely.
"Everyone on the count of three!" The voice of the young Uzumaki leader, only 16 years old, which seemed to exude more experience than his years betrayed, rose above the barbaric shouts of the Kaguya clan that sowed fear among his people.
Fear deserted the entire Uzumaki unit, and they prepared to flee, knowing what was coming and determined not to stop it, for they knew what Makoto said was true.
Some couldn't help but admire the boy who had once been considered an outcast; now he seemed like a patriarch determined to protect them.
Others saw the manifestation of Ashina reflected in that boy.
Smoke bombs exploded as the Uzumaki unit shot toward the sea.
Makoto followed at the rear, knowing that if they started running, they would be pursued.
Kunai and bone spikes were launched in their direction, forcing Makoto to stop in their path and make hand signals.
"Earth Release: Earth Wall."
A 15-meter wall of earth magnified, blocking incoming attacks and buying his team time to escape.
A smile appeared on his face as he glanced sideways and noticed the Uzumakis were failing their own code again.
"We came together and we'll leave together, huh...?" What a load of crap... he recalled the phrase from the Uzumaki clan's doctrine, one he'd seen thousands of times in clan history books, a phrase that functioned like the wonderful, utopian "Will of Fire," one that transforms ninjas into mindless soldiers who sacrifice their lives for something pointless, something not worth fighting for. Sixteen years had passed since he'd reincarnated into this shitty world. Don't get me wrong, he loved Naruto and had read countless fanfics of the Naruto series, and in all of them, the protagonists were born absolutely overpowered, with mixed Uchiha and Senju clan genetics in the same body. Some were born with the Six Eyes from Jutsu, or reincarnated as Satoru Gojo himself, or had some system that granted them overpowered abilities in exchange for...
interacting with characters and sleeping with them?
That was wonderful, more than wonderful. He wished his luck was like that.
But no, sixteen years pretending to be a stupid kid, being bullied by these red-haired devils who only praised the powerful and despised the weak.
'These damn noisy sons of bitches deserve their extinction.' He snarled inwardly with rage. He'd thought he'd be one of the lucky ones reincarnated in his favorite series, with a harem of the girls he'd always desired—Hinata, Tsunade, or Mei Mei—but no.
He was born without talent, without a system, and without luck.
He was worthless, and now he was about to die here.
Without having achieved anything, without having proven to himself that he was worth anything.
What a bitter joke life is. Why give me a second chance if I'm going to live like this?
But he sighed, relaxing his mind for a moment.
Maybe he should have expected less, maybe he should have trained more, so many beatings he let himself receive to get a system thinking it would be something epic like "When I'm on the verge of death the system will appear and give me a broken ability that will help me fight against my enemies", but nothing could be further from the truth, so many times he was close to death and was saved by Ashina, which made many people label him a suicidal idiot.
Once, twice, three times, seeing that he never achieved anything, he stopped and began to realize that the help he needed would never come. He realized that the only way to become strong was...
By becoming strong and training, training like he never had in his miserable life. He wasn't Madara Uchiha, he wasn't a genius, so he had to become twice as tough.
No cheap tricks.
But now... he was about to die.
Because of his "comrades."
Well, who was he trying to fool?
He chose this way to die.
After all, he was a being who always cared for others, no matter how badly he was treated. He was always quite altruistic, even with people who didn't deserve it, and that was now going to cost him his life.
Coming out of his reverie, more bones emerged from the ground, trying to impale him.
He leaped back, using his innate senses. Uzumaki Makoto closed his eyes for a second as he performed acrobatic backflips and side flips, bones emerging from the earth.
'They're not too far yet. Not yet...' They were close to the beach, yes, but they hadn't gone far enough for him to try to escape. He knew that if he didn't hold out long enough, at least until they reached the Uzumaki whirlpools, these Kaguyas might be able to pursue the remaining ninjas. Therefore, he had to fight, even if he was forced to.
'Damn it...' Makoto was regretting his decision. He blamed himself for being such a good person. These people, like every Uzumaki who knew of his existence, had spoken ill of him at some point.
Even on the way to the Daimyo's palace, they whispered and gossiped behind his back as if he were a fool who didn't notice anything.
They even looked down on him.
Although he wouldn't admit it, he seemed to resemble Naruto in some ways.
Because now he was giving his life for the very people who had criticized him his whole life.
'Pathetic,' he thought to himself.
He planted his feet firmly on the ground, unsheathed his worn katana—one his brother Ashina had given him for his 15th birthday and which he'd carried for over a year—and adopted an imperfect stance, giving the illusion that it was too open, learned more through hard knocks than in a dojo.
But it was actually a trap.
Although he lacked talent, he would take one of the Kaguyas with him, and to do so, he had to deceive them. His best technique wasn't a jutsu, nor hand seals, but deception—giving the illusion of acting as someone he wasn't.
As he always did.
"They're all coming," Makoto muttered to himself. Death was breathing down his neck, and he knew it. No matter how much he tried to play the weak, they outnumbered him. He couldn't do that. He was going to give it his all. He knew it wouldn't be enough, but that's how it was.
There were originally ten members of the Kaguya clan, but the Uzumaki unit was faster, and only the fastest Kaguya warriors managed to keep up with them.
They were more of a reconnaissance unit than combat experts, so they were faster than they were strong.
The four Kaguya advanced simultaneously.
"Bone Style: Dance of the Willows!" Bones erupted from their bodies like razor-sharp daggers, ready to tear him apart.
One blocked a sideways leap with a hip twist, impaling the ground and deflecting Makoto with a forearm strike. Another gauged the momentum of his attack, stepped back, and slashed from an angle that Makoto barely managed to dodge by rolling in the mud.
He leaped backward, spinning, dodging a bone emerging from the ground as another shot out from the side. His feet pounded the wet mud, propelling him to the side, but another Kaguya was already there, blocking his path. Every move he made was anticipated, every escape calculated.
Makoto gritted his teeth, feeling tactically outmatched. 'It doesn't matter... if I die, at least one of them will fall with me...' he told himself.
Makoto took a few steps back, assessing his opponents' every move. Each attack they launched had a purpose: one would block his path, another would push him into an area where a third could attack from an unexpected angle, and the fourth was ready to cover any escape.
'These guys... they're not just attacking, they're conditioning me... they're guiding me to where they want me to fall.' Makoto thought, from the perspective of a reincarnated Naruto who, since he was a child, had thought the Kaguyas were mindless beasts fighting without purpose, but this, this was more than warriors fighting for the fervor of battle.
A wave of bones erupted from the mud in front of him. Makoto leaped back, twisting to avoid the sharp point that was aiming to pierce his chest. In mid-air, he saw one of the Kaguyas move sideways, using its own attack as a decoy, anticipating his fall to impale him at the point of landing.
Makoto forced the landing, rolled through the mud, and plunged his katana into the ground, severing a bony thorn that was heading straight for his legs like a chain, while another Kaguya executed a lateral leap to attack with its elbow, calculating the exact distance to force a loss of balance. Makoto felt the pressure on his arms and quickly retreated, taking advantage of a small gap between the attackers.
'If I don't act quickly, they'll surround me...'
Makoto made an improvised hand seal, and reddish smoke rose from the mud beneath his feet, raising a thick cloud of dust that partially blinded the Kaguyas. He tried to leap away, but all four reacted instantly: one jumped over the smoke and unleashed a downward slash, another spun and struck a tree trunk to propel himself forward and attack from above, a third calculated Makoto's fall and prepared a thrusting motion with a bone to intercept him, and a fourth retreated, assessing Makoto's possible escape route.
Makoto rolled again, dodging a slash and leaping onto a fallen log, feeling the wet mud absorb some of his momentum. He used the momentum of the jump to throw a kunai that blocked one of the Kaguyas' path, forcing him back, while he fell to the ground and performed a quick hand seal: a rudimentary anchoring Fuinjutsu. The bone that was about to impale him was stopped for an instant, but not long enough to disrupt the enemy's coordination.
The Kaguyas looked at each other, words unspoken. Their movements were a reflection of their collective mind: one attacked to destabilize, another prepared to counter, another to block, and the last calculated when to interrupt the chain of attack. It was a fight in which every move was planned two steps ahead.
Makoto understood that his only advantage was to improvise, to disrupt the pattern the Kaguyas were trying to impose. He rolled to the side, feigning a stumble, and when one of the Kaguyas bent down to take advantage of the opening, Makoto pushed him hard using the momentum of his katana stuck in the mud, causing him to lose his balance and fall headfirst against a thick root.
But his bone density was greater than that of an ordinary human; he knew that wouldn't kill him, it would only buy him time.
A Kaguya launched a horizontal slash that Makoto blocked with the hilt of his katana. The impact sent him flying backward, but as he landed on his back, he rolled onto a log and used his foot to propel himself forward, throwing a chakra-infused kunai at the Kaguya that had tried to block its path. The blade struck the enemy's shoulder, forcing it to readjust its attack and temporarily disrupting the group's coordination.
"Bone Style: Dance of the Willows!"
They shouted in unison, ready to devour him alive, arm and leg bones whirling like blades in perfect synchronization. They didn't wait: they launched themselves.
Makoto took the first step, not to attack, but to avoid being surrounded. He deflected the first blow with the edge of his sword; the impact rattled his arm like a hammer blow. He stepped back, spun, using his body more than his technique. A bone grazed his neck, its sharp edge making the air vibrate.
"Damn it...!" Makoto didn't want to deny it, but if there was one thing that fascinated him about the world of Naruto, it was the fighting. The Taijutsu and Ninjutsu formed a brutal spectacle of strategy, reflexes, and coordination that he had rarely seen anywhere else.
From his home, on the TV or laptop, those fights seemed choreographed, almost perfect: impossible spins, legs and fists flying, followed by jutsus. Spectacular. But here he was, amidst the adrenaline, feeling every impact, every trajectory, every calculated attack.
He rolled across the ground just as a Kaguya slashed through the area where he stood with a bone thrust. Makoto rose with an acrobatic leap and slammed the hilt of his sword into the attacker's face. It didn't stop him, but it unbalanced him enough that his next move was lethal in terms of control, though not fatal: with a swift slash, Makoto sent the Kaguya reeling several steps back, forcing him to readjust his stance and momentarily lose his coordination.
They were overconfident, and they were paying the price. They could have attacked from a distance, from the safety of their surroundings, but they chose to "have fun," and now they had to contend with Makoto's unpredictability.
"Three to go," Makoto murmured, feeling the adrenaline course through every muscle. His eyes were wide open, his breathing rapid. It wasn't death that drove him, but the sheer thrill of combat, the challenge of survival. and overcome such formidable foes.
"BASTARD! YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Kaguya screamed, a mixture of hatred and madness, as she launched a flank attack with slashing bones.
Another one appeared from behind. Makoto released his katana with one hand and blocked with his forearm, feeling the bone edge slice through his skin. He growled, driving his knee into the attacker's abdomen, pushing him back and sending him crashing into a tree. At the same time, he threw a kunai infused with explosive chakra that detonated inches from his enemy, forcing him to roll to avoid the impact and temporarily losing his offensive position.
"They don't stay still!..." Makoto shouted, propelling himself backward using a tree root, dodging a horizontal slash aimed at his legs.
The ground trembled beneath his feet.
"Dance of the Lilies," one of the Kaguyas announced calmly, and bone spikes emerged from the mud at lethal speed, bursting forth from different angles.
Makoto didn't jump. He couldn't. The attack was too fast.
He released the seals with his hands:
"Uzumaki Sealing Style: Chakra Barrier!" he roared, as an unstable, reddish dome erupted around him, enveloping his body. Stakes crashed against him, some bouncing off, others veering off course, and one grazed his thigh, slashing the fabric of his uniform.
The impact was brutal. Makoto groaned, struggling to maintain his balance as the stakes continued to rain down in calculated bursts, the work of the Kaguyas, who combined taijutsu movements: pushes, leaps, and synchronized pivots to test the barrier's limits.
Makoto used the pressure to his advantage: he spun around and threw two chakra-infused kunai at his attackers' flanks, forcing them back and adjusting.
The barrier shattered.
"FUCK FUCK FUCK, YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Makoto fumed mentally, filled with rage and hatred.
A Kaguya took advantage of the opening and whipped out its spine like a whip. Makoto crossed with his katana and took the full force of the blow, being sent flying several meters and rolling on the ground.
He got up bleeding, breathing heavily, but still on guard.
"You keep getting up," one of them said, amused. "That's tiring."
Makoto spat out blood.
"You guys... talk too much."
Makoto activated the media sales.
"Uzumaki Sealing Style: Anchor!"
Chains of chakra briefly emerged, not to ensnare, but to slow the bone's movement long enough to move aside. The chains broke instantly.
"Tsk...!" Makoto growled in annoyance.
A Kaguya used Dance of the Fern. Its body was covered in sharp bones as it charged like a battering ram.
Makoto raised his sword with both hands. He separated one hand from the sword's hilt and, with the other, began performing hand seals, leaving the Kaguyas astonished.
"ONE-HANDED SEALS!" a Kaguya shouted in utter surprise.
"Kenjutsu Style, Uzumaki Defense: Whirlpool Dance!"
The Kaguya who shouted this broke out in a cold sweat for a moment, but his companion, who had already launched the attack, didn't stop.
The chakra swirled around the blade, generating a violent whirlpool around it. The impact was brutal. The katana cracked, the bone shattered, and both were thrown back.
The impact against the tree made him spit blood. He tried to get up, but his vision blurred, and then he spat a violent amount of blood onto the ground.
Makoto fell to his knees.
His arms trembled. He could no longer feel his fingers. His body screamed at him to surrender.
With what little strength he had left, he raised his gaze; The remaining Kaguya lunged at him.
Makoto, acting on pure instinct, blocked its attack, which came in the form of a fist.
He tried to counterattack, but instantly fell back as the Kaguya he had sent flying returned, blood trickling from its mouth.
A large bone emerged from below, causing Makoto to break out in a cold sweat.
The Kaguya, bleeding profusely from the mouth, lunged at him.
It was close in the blink of an eye, causing Makoto to instinctively raise his sword.
A feint.
The Kaguya pretended to launch another attack from above, a bone protruding from its hand.
But the bone retracted instantly.
The Kaguya used its hands and gripped Makoto's face tightly, causing Makoto to open his eyes in surprise. The Kaguya gripped Makoto's face and forcefully headbutted him, the blade striking Makoto's nose and shattering it completely.
Makoto groaned in pain, and his right hand, holding his katana, tightened its grip and pierced his enemy's abdomen.
It opened its eyes slightly despite the pain, smiling arrogantly.
He knew Kaguya wouldn't get away with this.
"See you in hell, you son of a bitch!" Makoto yelled.
Kaguya opened his eyes as he felt the Uzumaki enemy's chakra travel through the sword and then swirl in the katana piercing his stomach.
His grip remained firm on Makoto's face.
'Son of a...' Kaguya growled mentally, but his gaze was filled with rage.
Then his cheeks swelled, and he spat a torrent of his own blood into Makoto's face.
In an instinctive movement, Makoto kicked Kaguya away, sending him flying with a hole in his stomach.
The last Kaguya, who had faced him and his partner but had left them in a one-on-one fight, faced him again. He was breathing calmly. He wasn't even disheveled, since all he did was watch the whole time.
Makoto braced his sword against the ground and struggled to his feet.
"I'm not going to win..." he admitted. "But I'm not going down easily either."
"Why are you still fighting?... Why are you resisting defeat so much?... You and those annoying tree-huggers are practically the same, it's infuriating... Every time I see one of yours, it reminds me of them." He asked the last Kaguya with an arrogant smile and a voice dripping with hatred.
He wondered why they were so stubborn, in general, the red-haired devils and those tree-huggers. Why did they like to refuse to yield even in the jaws of death? It wasn't weakness; it was being realistic about the situation. And here was this Uzumaki still refusing to die so fiercely. It was simply strange. If you didn't want to reveal information, committing seppuku or immolating yourself with explosive tags like the ones he possessed was his best option. While there were Uzumakis who could hold off up to 20 Kaguyas simultaneously and emerge victorious, that was only possible if you were a sufficiently talented and experienced warrior, one who had faced death multiple times and lived to tell the tale, and, of course, if you possessed the technique and chakra to do so effectively.
"Why don't you tell me why you just stood there watching as I killed each of your comrades? Furthermore, why did you let them come at me one by one when they could clearly see I was slightly superior?" Makoto replied calmly, his eyes narrowed as he faced his pursuer, who had taken the time to speak to him. This was unusual, as the Kaguyas are known for being mindless fighters whose sole purpose is to kill, kill, and kill, guided only by absolute power hierarchies.
A Kaguya never listens to another unless they are stronger than him.
"I'm not like them. I couldn't care less what those brainless idiots do." His voice was indifferent and cold. "Everyone in my clan is arrogant. We like to be superior and like to believe we're better than others when we're not." His voice had suddenly become calm, something unexpected considering the Kaguyas' personalities. "We thought that since you were alone, it would only take one of us to kill you, but, of course, they didn't notice what I saw." The Kaguya said calmly.
Makoto stared at him silently for a few seconds, contemplating his words. "What did you see?" Makoto asked.
"You have soft features, your hands aren't thick, they aren't battle-worn; while it's clear you've been trained and undoubtedly know how to fight, you don't look like a warrior. You look more like a spoiled prince, the kind with incredibly wealthy parents, and you look like a clan heir. I could tell by the immediate obedience that Uzumaki unit showed you." His smile widened, revealing his canines.
"It's obvious you must be someone special. No enemy unit would obey someone who wasn't stronger than them." His smile broadened further, almost macabre. "Or someone of a higher social status. People like you usually end up killed by their own arrogance, but if you're still alive, it shows they're afraid of whoever your father is." His gaze shifted slightly, a hint of disappointment in his eyes. "But when you drew your sword, I thought otherwise. However, my train of thought was correct. What I deduced from you after the initial clash, the way you dodged the multiple bone spikes we launched from behind with such finesse, proved true. You didn't seem to know how to wield a sword, yet you possessed instincts honed enough to evade an attack that an ordinary warrior couldn't."
"No one, unless you were an elite ninja among the clans or the son of a high-ranking clan member who received training from an elite warrior, could dodge these attacks. We made sure to strike you from blind spots." He said, his gaze glancing away for a moment. His smile softened, and then he looked at Makoto, who sensed it too.
"If you only knew you never received elite training." His older brother, Ashina, had trained him, yes, but he only taught him what he needed to know. The rest he had to learn on his own.
" "Perhaps you should... move... they're here," the Kaguya said.
And he decided not to pursue him, since those who had arrived should be more than enough to kill him.
Makoto turned and shot off, leaping through the trees with all his might, reinforcing his body with chakra.
"You won't escape!" roared a voice behind him.
From among the tree trunks emerged five more white figures, their bodies covered in bone markings that jutted from their skin like living blades. The Kaguya advanced fearlessly, smiling with that characteristic madness.
One of them, tall and thin, planted his feet firmly on the ground and launched his arm bones like spears.
"Willow Dance!"
Makoto spun in the air, activating chakra chains that erupted from his back and deflected the projectiles with a sharp crack. As he landed, he was quickly defeated.
Makoto hadn't seen it coming. He felt one of the stakes graze his skin.
"Uzumaki Sealing Technique: Spiral Barrier!"
The ground exploded behind him, raising dust and roots. Two Kaguya pierced through the barrier without hesitation, their bones regenerating instantly.
"You're resilient, Uzumaki..." a woman from the clan said, as her spine erupted from her back like a whip. "That'll make breaking you more fun."
Makoto gritted his teeth and accelerated, narrowly dodging the bone whip. His legs burned, but his lineage wouldn't let him fall so easily; the Uzumaki were known for their superhuman stamina and longevity. He leaped across a narrow river, forming hand seals with a single hand.
Once he landed on the other side, his palms met in the snake seal.
"Water Style: Crimson Whirlpool!" His voice grew louder as he screamed at the top of his lungs.
The water swirled violently, forming a swirling wall that hurled two pursuers against the rocks. However, the leader, Kaguya, suddenly appeared before him, emerging from the ground with sharp bones covering his body like armor.
"We've caught up with you."
Makoto collided with him; the impact resounded like metal against bone. Both were sent flying. The Uzumaki rolled on the ground, bleeding, but smiling.
Then he resumed his escape.
His group had already put enough distance between them; now he could flee with ease, however, his current state wouldn't allow him to run for long.
But there was nothing he could do; his current physical condition was poor, and he could barely fight.
He continued leaping between the trees as bones flew past him.
Using his kekkei genkai, he naturally managed to grab onto tree branches, propelling himself further away; the guards were still in pursuit.
"I'm close to the beach." Thinking about it, he was still about 100 meters from the shore.
At this rate, the Uzumaki Coast Guard should be on their way, so the faster he moved, the sooner he'd catch up with them.
His face was covered in blood, the kind Kaguya had spat at him.
His body was badly injured, but he still moved with skill and agility.
Blood covered part of his face, blurring one eye. He wiped it away with his forearm without stopping.
His body was badly injured, but he continued to move with an agility born of habit, not talent. Every jump was calculated.
The trees parted suddenly.
Makoto, surprised to see the beach, practically rolled out of the woods, the white sand meeting him with a sharp impact that knocked the last of his breath out, leaving him face up for a second. The sun almost blinded him. The sound of the sea hit him hard: crashing waves, salty wind, distant seagulls.
The beach.
He stood up.
He didn't stop.
Not when he was so close.
He'd given him a second chance, even if it was a shitty second chance, he'd given him a second chance.
He focused chakra in the soles of his feet and ran straight toward the water, leaving deep tracks in the wet sand. Every step hurt, but the chakra kept him moving, pushing him forward.
'What a load of crap!' he said to himself.
He was sure the other Uzumakis would have found this easy since they had almost all of their chakra; this wasn't a challenge, but for him it was.
The sea was cold. Violent.
Makoto kept running across the surface, the chakra vibrating unsteadily beneath his feet. It wasn't a polished technique; the water churned wildly around him.
Behind him, the sand exploded.
The four Kaguya emerged from the forest almost simultaneously, without pause, without visible fatigue. They didn't hesitate when they saw the sea.
They activated their chakra and accelerated.
They didn't run.
They flew.
Their bodies deformed slightly, bones protruding less to propel them, more to slice through the air, traversing the distance with brutal speed. In seconds, the gap Makoto had opened began to disappear.
"Damn it...!" Makoto's face finally paled with fear. Now he was really going to die; he couldn't fight another 3 against 1. His injuries had been taking their toll, and his chakra, though vast, had been exhausted by using so many jutsu.
Makoto felt the pressure behind him. His control of the thin layer of chakra beneath his feet, separating him from the water, began to fail due to his lack of control over it.
A hiss.
A bone grazed his ear and disappeared into the sea; the warm liquid trickled down his cheek. Another struck near his leg, sending up a column of water that threw him off balance.
He stumbled.
His teeth clenched in helplessness.
"You sons of bitches," he muttered under his breath, hatred dripping from his voice.
He managed to regain his footing, but his rhythm was broken.
That was all it took. A distraction was all it took, all it took to doom him.
One of the Kaguya appeared beside him, moving effortlessly across the water, a bony blade extending from its forearm.
"We've got you."
Makoto spun around, raising his arms; black markings like kanji spread from his palms to the ground, creating a mixture of chakra and water infused with kanji that extended across the barrier.
"Uzumaki Barrier!"
The chakra swirled around him, cushioning the impact. Even so, the blast sent him flying several meters backward, bouncing off the surface of the sea before he collapsed to his knees.
The other three Kaguya surrounded him in an instant, forming a semicircle on the churning water.
Makoto was breathing heavily.
His consciousness will fade.
"Should we take his body, don't you think, Tatsimo?" One of the Kaguya spoke, younger and thinner in appearance, his gaze fixed on their leader, who was the tallest of them all.
Tatsumo, the leader and finally the most experienced of the four, stared at Makoto's body with an expressionless face.
The young man at his feet was conscious, but given his injuries and miserable condition, it was only a matter of time before he bled to death.
Right now, the young man was suffering.
He wore black clothing with long, wide sleeves that covered his hands; at the same time, concealing them from view, the Uzumaki clan symbol was displayed on either shoulder. He wore gray combat armor with metal plates from his chest to his waist.
Tatsumo extended his hand and gathered an insane amount of chakra in his palm. From his palm, a bone emerged and shot out at near-sonic speed, piercing Makoto's body and leaving a gaping wound from which blood gushed.
Makoto's vision went dark.
The last thing he saw was the shore between the feet of one of the Kaguya members.
Silence.
His eyes snapped open, but when they did, there was only darkness.
Makoto sighed.
"There went my chance at a second life." Makoto deeply regretted it; at least he left with the least bitter taste in his mouth possible, having sent a couple of bastards to hell.
"I fought pretty well." A satisfied sigh escaped his lips, but deep down it was a pathetic attempt at consolation, and he knew it. For someone whose body had barely any talent and who had had to struggle to achieve what he did almost single-handedly, it was quite tenacious.
"No sexy Tsunade, no sexy Hinata, and definitely no super-broken system." I sighed with regret at this.
"What a cruel world." His voice sounded regretful. Ever since he was reborn, the world of Naruto had been harsh on him, too harsh. I always thought they would activate a system, but it never came.
"Perhaps I should have been more selfish; I would definitely be alive right now. Maybe if I had deserted the Uzumakis... no, that would have been a bad choice. They kept me safe. I was a weakling at first, but a weakling, Uzushio's future brother, after all, and if something happened to me, who knows what Ashina would have done... or if I became a rogue, Ashina would have hunted me down, captured me, brought me back to the village, and locked me up. Should I have joined the Uzumaki Coast Guard? No... they would never have let me. Should I have learned more from the Uzumaki sealing library?
"If Tobirama had been alive, he would have abused the Shadow Clone Technique, but this was a time in the shinobi world when neither Tobirama, nor Hashirama, nor Madara were alive yet, so there was nothing to be done." If they were inside their parents' orbs, only their father was still alive at this time, probably the same age as Ashina... But a thought crossed his mind, and a sigh, probably the third he'd let out there, escaped his lips. "Who am I kidding... living in the world of Naruto, especially being weak, wasn't something he liked. At this rate, he'd be killed or massacred in the Leaf's obvious betrayal of the Uzumakis, which would lead to their imminent destruction at the hands of the other elemental nations."
The Uzumakis were strong; just look at him: despite being considered a weak Uzumaki, he eliminated a large number of enemies who would have been considered Chunin if we were talking in terms of current Naruto power levels.
But he did what he could. There's nothing more he can do.
"Now what...?" He was already dead, the game was over, but why was he still here? Shouldn't they send him to the afterlife? To paradise? To his homeland? To his family? Why was he still here staring at this black void?
Suddenly, his mind was pulled away; the world around him twisted and stretched, leaving him stunned.
A slight feeling of lightness and nausea followed him as the world around him spun uncontrollably; then his eyes closed.
His eyes opened again as he felt the air hit his face hard, followed by an intense glare.
His eyes opened slightly, and he was stunned.
Madara Uchiha, Tobirama Senju, Hashirama Senju, and a white-haired man were thrashing about, covered in cuts and blood; hundreds of meters away, a tall, four-armed figure loomed over them. A shrill, dark laugh echoed across the field.
Suddenly, he vanished and reappeared in front of Tobirama Senju, kicking him away. Two of his arms flew between Hashirama and Madara, while at the same time, his extra pair of hands formed hand seals. A gigantic mouth on his stomach seemed to recite unintelligible chants, of which he only understood two words:
Meteor and Twin Dragons.
But he stopped forming his seals when he saw another presence approaching from behind him.
Seeing the being's face, he froze. He would recognize it in any world.
It was Sukuna Ryomen.
The King of Curses.
He wanted to speak, but he couldn't say anything, only stare at them in astonishment.
Then it clicked: if that was Sukuna, then the other white-haired man was Satoru Gojo.
His suspicions were confirmed as Gojo, who hadn't been affected, charged at them. A blue glow emanated from his hands, ready for battle.
"Now," Tobirama ordered with the cold calm befitting a leader.
Quick seals.
"Hiraishin: Second Stage."
Tobirama vanished and reappeared behind Sukuna, placing explosive tags directly on his back.
One of his eyes made contact with Tobirama, sending a cold sweat through him.
Massive explosion.
Sukuna emerged from the smoke... unharmed.
"Admirable speed, sharp mind, a born strategist, you're different, Tobirama Senju, not a failure like your brother, the First Hokage, or like Satoru Senju, not a complete failure like the Uchiha, are you…?" he said condescendingly and arrogantly. "But I've already read you, let's see if you can dodge this."
One of his eyes turned toward Tobirama.
"Disarm." His deep voice reverberated through the area.
The air behind Tobirama split.
Satoru appeared between them.
"No." Satoru's voice was monotonous, almost emotionless, as his sapphire blue eyes stared at him.
He extended his hand.
The slash stopped inches from Tobirama, trembling, unable to advance.
Sukuna smiled wider.
"Ah... you're the annoying one." Sukuna's voice was amused.
"It's incredible how you haven't taken off the bandage, considering what I did to you last time when you were such an arrogant brat. You should know better than to think this battle is lost..." His voice was playful as he jumped away from the trio.
Gojo removed the bandage the instant Sukuna leaped away.
Her sapphire blue eyes reflected the sky and shone brightly, her chakra surging to its peak.
"She's not lost unless I die." Gojo's voice wasn't arrogant; it was more determined than ever compared to when he was younger.
Sukuna crossed her arms, her expression completely indifferent.
"Hmph... so... are you serious? I thought we were just playing..." she said indifferently.
"Makoto-san," Hashirama began calmly, as if trying to reason with her. "There's still a way back—" But his words were interrupted.
"I nearly destroyed every elemental nation, assassinated almost all the Kage, and started a war." His characteristic smile appeared on his face, brimming with arrogance. "I don't think there's any going back after the massacres I committed, after having murdered almost every Kage in every village." His gaze showed not remorse, but an expression of pure laziness.
Makoto, whose presence seemed to be completely ignored, opened her eyes upon hearing Hashirama call her name as he approached Sukuna.
"I see," Hashirama said, seeing that his enemy didn't care. "Then..."
Hashirama entered from the left, his wood reinforced with hardened natural energy, seeking to immobilize. Madara, wounded, attacked from the right. Gojo advanced straight ahead, applying constant pressure.
Sukuna didn't retreat.
The two lower arms blocked Madara and Hashirama simultaneously: one deflected the sword, the other split the wood with chakra infused with natural energy.
The upper arms didn't form hand seals this time.
They attacked.
Crossed cuts, impossible angles, forcing the three to separate.
Gojo felt the impact against Infinity.
"Why aren't you using everything now?" Madara asked. He knew that Sukuna had been superior to them, both when they faced him individually and when they faced him as a group, although the first time they attacked him as a group they were young and arrogant; Sukuna had given them a beating.
"He isn't, he's still playing around." Satoru knew it; he was fighting a pointless battle.
Then Sukuna leaped away, pointing a finger at Gojo.
An imperceptible cut appeared on Satoru's arm, severing it.
Blood.
Silence.
"...interesting," Gojo murmured, serious now as his arm regenerated. Cold sweat rolled down his forehead; again, once more, he hadn't been able to analyze that cut. Each slash he used against them was different; they traveled a distance before reaching them, and while they possessed extremely high power—to the point that ninjas as fast as Hashirama, Tobirama, Madara, or even himself, representing the pinnacle of human speed in the ninja world, had no time to react—this slash that Sukuna used on him was different: instead of traveling a distance, it appeared directly into his body, piercing his Infinity.
It was terrifying and frightening. Perhaps if Konoha hadn't done what it had done in the past, this wouldn't have happened.
Sukuna lowered his guard slightly, breathing calmly.
"Four arms aren't for intimidation," he said. "They're for not wasting time."
Suddenly, his vision was cut off.
A panel opened before him in the black space that now floated above him.
Makoto was shocked.
With his zero talent, he couldn't see himself winning a battle against "The Honored One," much less against "The Fallen King," and certainly not against a god like "The Shinobi God"; he was undeniably going to die.
And worse, were they fighting each other? How far had this universe fallen to be like this?
And why was Senju Hashirama referring to Sukuna as Makoto? But his question would be quickly answered when a bright blue screen appeared in the middle of nowhere, with large, white, glowing letters that read:
"Do you wish to activate the King's Finger System?"
"Yes" or "No."
His mind went blank.
"It can't be..."
So he was Sukuna.
Before Makoto's eyes, a third chance at life appeared, and Makoto wasn't going to let it slip away; he'd analyze what future this held for him and deal with it later.
A smile appeared on his face.
But it wasn't just any smile; it was the smile of someone who had just downed coffee, energy drinks, and smoked a joint. His eyes were filled with madness; suddenly, he felt a surge of euphoria and excitement.
It was finally over.
His misery was over, and good fortune smiled upon him. Damn, he liked that; his years of pretending to be a pitiful dog hadn't been in vain, they were over, and he knew how powerful Sukuna was, and he wasn't afraid of anything, knowing that he would eventually attain his full power.
And once he attained his full power, he would challenge the pinnacles of power in this era and crown himself before all as the strongest of all time, and all would see it.
All would bow before him.
His euphoria erupted into mad laughter; his hands flew up in front of him as he continued to laugh.
"IT WILL BE A MASSACRE!" Once he had achieved everything and placed the Uzumaki clan at the top, his laughter suddenly stopped.
What would come after achieving everything? What would come after being crowned the strongest of all? What would come after everyone looked up to him and respected him as he deserved?
Well, when that day comes, then...
His mind went blank, unsure what to do. Placing a hand on his chin, adopting a thoughtful posture, he spoke aloud:
"When that day comes, I'll find out, like everything else in this life."
"For now, I will live my life and my power to the fullest, seeking a challenge in every battle, a challenge that makes my soul live and my heart beat, and if anyone decides to stand in my way, I will slowly cut off their scales."
His heart trembled with excitement as he looked at the sign in front of him and pressed the "Yes" option.