"Rikudō Shingon: Ten'mon."
Naruto's hands moved quickly, fingers forming unfamiliar signs as faint gold light flickered between them. His eyes narrowed in focus. Sweat rolled down his forehead, dotting the table beneath him.
He didn't even notice.
Images flashed through his mind—Sasuke, the Uchiha compound, shadows shifting under a blood-red sky. Then the light faded, and Naruto slumped forward, panting hard.
Good thing he'd chosen to sit down before using it. If anyone saw him collapsing like that, they'd probably just assume he was asleep again. No one ever asked what "the dead-last" was up to anyway.
He smirked weakly. "Figures."
The Rikudō Shingon: Ten'mon, a divine ability tied to the Six Paths' secrets, wasn't meant for fighting. It couldn't destroy mountains or unleash fire. It could only see—glimpses of fate itself.
For now, it was limited. He could only read the fate of someone weaker than himself, and even then, only for a day ahead. But that was enough.
He didn't need to know the future of the world. Just a few steps ahead. Just enough to keep people from dying again.
"Alright… time to begin."
His voice was barely audible, more breath than sound. Every use of Ten'mon drained his mental focus, devouring chakra like a bottomless pit. He could barely maintain it for a minute before the strain hit him like a hammer.
If he overdid it, even the Nine Tails couldn't stop his mind from collapsing.
Still, he had to know.
Because tonight—the Uchiha compound would drown in blood.
He'd been using Ten'mon every night, watching Sasuke's future play out like shadows through fog. What he saw wasn't death, but it wasn't life either. Darkness, loneliness… loss beyond measure.
Naruto clenched his fist. He already knew what this meant.
The Uchiha Clan would fall tonight.
He could feel it in every vision—like the air before a storm.
And what could he do about it? Nothing.
He wasn't a saint. He wasn't strong enough to stop what was coming.
Even if he could, the Uchiha had been preparing to rebel. Danzo's methods were cruel, but Naruto understood the cold logic. If the rebellion succeeded, the entire village would burn.
And Hokage? That title wouldn't mean "Protector of Konoha" anymore. It would mean "Uchiha Ruler."
He let out a long breath. "I guess I'll just… watch how it plays out."
The words left his mouth softer than a whisper, almost lost in the air. Not even Hinata, sitting nearby, could have heard them.
It had been a year since he first met Kurama. Now, he was in his second year at the Academy. Thanks to the fox's chakra, his strength had risen fast—almost Chūnin level now.
His chakra pool was immense for his age, already comparable to mid-level shinobi. But strength wasn't only about chakra. Between Genin and Chūnin lay a gap most never crossed.
Only one in ten made it through that wall. And from Chūnin to Jōnin? Maybe one in a hundred. The world of shinobi wasn't built for everyone to climb.
Still, Naruto had learned there were two paths forward.
The first was Accumulation—the slow grind. Train until your body breaks, push your limits, and one day, if luck doesn't kill you, you break through.
Most shinobi lived and died chasing that path.
The second was Epiphany—a spark in the middle of chaos. Some awakened new strength in battle, others during moments of loss or enlightenment.
One path built you brick by brick. The other burned you alive and rebuilt you from ash.
Naruto leaned back, eyes half closed. "If I had to pick…"
He smiled faintly. "I'd rather learn by fighting a master… not by losing someone precious."
Outside, the wind brushed the leaves of Konoha's trees.
Somewhere far away, a massacre was beginning.