Mist lay thick over Uzushiogakure, softer than the day before but no less heavy. It drifted through the village like breath held too long, clinging to rooftops and curling through narrow stone alleys. The morning should have felt calm. Instead, every movement in the air carried a strange tension, as if the village itself were bracing for something it could not see.
Raizo woke with his heart pounding against something that wasn't entirely his.
Two rhythms pulsed in his chest.
One was familiar—young, quick, undeniably his own.
The other was slower, deeper, heavy with pressure that seemed to echo far beneath the ocean floor, as though the sea itself had learned to breathe inside him.
He sat upright, both hands pressed against his ribs.
Behind him, the air twisted.
Not toward him.
Not away from him.
It circled the room on its own, slow and deliberate, like a cautious animal testing its boundaries.
Raizo's breath hitched.
The wind had never done that before.
He squeezed his eyes shut as pressure gathered behind them, sharp and insistent. It felt like whispers were stacking atop one another, trying to force themselves through a space too small to hold them.
When he opened his eyes again, the world looked wrong.
Sharper.
Edges felt too defined. Light cut harder. Distance collapsed until everything felt close—too close.
"Mama…" he whispered.
Akane was at his side almost instantly, robe half-fastened, hair loose from sleep. She knelt beside him and pulled him into her arms without hesitation.
"What's wrong?" she asked, already afraid of the answer.
"It's loud again," Raizo murmured. His voice trembled despite his effort to keep it steady. "Everything is too loud."
She placed one steady hand at the back of his head, pressing his forehead gently to her collarbone. "Look at me," she whispered. "Not the room. Just me."
Raizo tried.
But even there, wrapped in her warmth, he could hear her heartbeat like it was inside his own chest. He felt her chakra coils hum faintly beneath her skin. Outside the house—beyond thin wooden walls—dozens more pulses reached him. Each one different. Each one demanding attention.
Uzushio had never been this clear.
He didn't want it to be.
"It hurts," he whispered.
Akane tightened her arms around him. "I know."
By midday, the rumors had already spread.
"The boy's eyes flickered again—"
"Mito-sama is here for him, isn't she?"
"His chakra is wrong. Too big."
"Uzushio's future is tied to that child. You'll see."
Raizo felt every whisper like cold needles against his skin. Fear wrapped in curiosity. Curiosity edged with greed. Reverence tainted by unease.
Some villagers bowed too deeply when they passed him. Others turned away, unwilling to meet his eyes.
Hina stormed straight through them.
"HEY!" she shouted, planting herself in front of Raizo with her hands on her hips. "STOP STARING AT HIM LIKE YOU'RE ABOUT TO EXPLODE!"
Several adults abruptly found reasons to be elsewhere.
Akane pressed her fingers to her temple. "Hina—"
"No," Hina insisted. "They're being weird. I hate when people are weird on purpose."
Raizo lowered his gaze. "I'm the reason."
Hina spun on him instantly. "No. They're the reason. You're the same."
She squinted at him. "Still weird. But the same weird."
Something in Raizo's chest loosened just a little.
Riku came home early.
The moment he saw Raizo, his shoulders stiffened. "We're grounding your chakra," he said quietly. "Now."
They went to the cliffside where they always trained.
The ocean below was restless, waves striking stone in uneven rhythms that scraped against Raizo's senses. He sat on the mat, hands resting on his knees, breathing shallowly.
"Inhale slow," Riku said, kneeling in front of him. "Let the breath fall into your stomach. Don't reach for the chakra. Let it come to rest."
Raizo tried.
The wind stirred.
He inhaled again.
The wind circled faster.
"Slow it," Riku urged. "Don't let your coil push against itself."
Something tightened behind Raizo's eyes.
Then—
He felt it.
Not a sound.
Not a voice.
A vibration.
A deep, metallic resonance humming beneath the world.
Chains.
They echoed across impossible distance, soft and rhythmic, like a heartbeat wrapped in iron.
"Papa…" Raizo whispered, clutching at his face. "Do you hear it?"
Riku frowned. "Hear what?"
Raizo's breath came faster. "Chains."
His vision flared.
Pink—deep, diluted red—flooded his sight.
For three heartbeats, the world unfolded.
Riku's chakra network lit up like rivers on a map.
The sea twisted into vast spirals layered with ancient seals.
The cliff beneath them groaned with dormant protections older than memory.
And far away—so far it should not have been reachable—Raizo felt a monstrous presence.
Bound.
Layered in seals.
Breathing.
Pain lanced through his skull.
Raizo collapsed.
Riku caught him before he struck the stone.
Mito arrived before the panic could spiral.
Her presence filled the doorway like gravity itself. Even half-conscious, Raizo felt her chakra draw him inward, pulling him back into himself with practiced care.
She knelt and placed her palm lightly against his forehead.
Her chakra flowed into his coils—not forceful, not invasive, but deliberate and calm. Like smoothing tangled hair.
Raizo exhaled shakily.
The noise retreated.
"Oh, child," Mito murmured softly. "You are unraveling too quickly."
Akane clutched Riku's sleeve. "What's happening to him?"
Mito studied Raizo's chakra in silence, pain flickering across her expression.
"His Uzumaki vitality is expanding faster than his body can handle," she said at last. "His Chinoike blood is waking far too early. And his sensory field is reacting to me—specifically to what I carry."
Akane swallowed hard. "The Nine-Tails?"
Mito nodded once.
"He isn't touching the fox," she continued. "He's brushing against the chains that hold it."
Raizo whimpered softly.
Mito stroked his hair. "You hear chakra on levels most shinobi never reach. This place—these barriers, the ocean pressure—they're amplifying the strain."
Riku's voice was tight. "What are you saying?"
"This village cannot protect him," Mito said evenly. "And if he remains here without guidance, these awakenings will break him."
Akane's arms tightened around her son. "Please don't take him."
"I will not force anything," Mito said gently. "But if he stays, he will suffer. If he comes with me, I can teach him how to breathe beneath the weight."
The elders arrived moments later, anger sharp in their expressions.
"You are destabilizing the boy," one accused. "Your presence is provoking his awakening."
Mito didn't turn.
"If I were provoking him," she replied calmly, "he would already be blind with awakened eyes he could not control."
Silence fell.
"You are out of your depth," she continued. "If you attempt suppression, you will kill him."
Reluctantly, one elder bowed. "We will permit your guidance. Temporarily."
Mito nodded once.
That evening, Raizo sat at the tide wall, hugging his knees.
The chains hummed faintly now—present, but no longer piercing.
"I'm scared," he admitted.
Mito sat beside him. "So was I."
"Am I dangerous?"
"You are powerful," she corrected gently. "And power without guidance is dangerous. With guidance… you will shape the world instead of letting it crush you."
Raizo breathed.
The wind followed.
Not perfectly.
But enough.
"I can breathe under it now," he murmured.
And for the first time—
He believed it.
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