"Get your asses up here! We're still in Fire Country turf; Leaf ninjas could roll up any damn second!"
Asa-cloth (yeah, that's the chick's name) was clawing at the ninja eagle's feathers, hauling herself higher. The bandages she'd wrapped around her arm snagged on a plume, yanking the wound open like someone dumped boiling oil on it.
Her teeth chattered from the pain, knuckles white as ghosts, voice coming out all weak and floaty.
After that Root ninja bullshit, this was her final gut-check on Uchiha Makoto: was the dude really down to bounce with them to Kumogakure, or what?
Makoto just stood there in the snow, arms crossed like a boss, watching Samui and Asa-cloth struggle like drunk cats climbing a tree.
Samui's waist and gut bandages were leaking dark red, every leg lift making her scrunch her face. Her black skintight suit was soaked in sweat patches—light, dark, the whole damn mood ring.
Asa-cloth's arms shook like fall leaves in a hurricane. Both of 'em looked like they'd been through a meat grinder and spat out the other side.
Makoto? Zero panic. Just a light tap of his toe, and poof—body floats up like a leaf in the wind, landing soft as a feather on the eagle's broad back.
Didn't even jiggle the bird. Compared to the girls flailing like amateurs, it was like two different movies playing side-by-side.
Once the ladies finally dragged their beat-up selves aboard, the ninja eagle flapped those monster wings and shot into the sky. Snow spray blinded everything.
It booked it toward Lightning Country, wings slicing air like muffled thunder, rattling eardrums. Wind up there? Strong enough to yeet a grown man into next week.
Samui and Asa-cloth sandwiched Makoto front and back, arms locked around his waist, using their backs as windbreaks.
Samui's stray neck hairs plastered to her face in the gale. Asa-cloth felt the heat rolling off the guy in front, glanced at Makoto—her black ear tips flushed pink. She bit her lip to kill the weird flutter.
Once they got Makoto back to Kumogakure, no matter what, the Raikage would hook him up with a squad of top-tier kunoichi. Goal? Breed stronger Uchiha bloodlines.
And her and Samui? They were the cream of this generation's crop in Kumo...
Makoto, meanwhile, was chilling like a villain on vacation. He rummaged in his "pocket" (really yanking custom kunai from his [Player Inventory]), spun 'em on his finger, and chucked a few downward.
Those special kunai arced pretty as hell through the air, handles stamped with his personal Flying Thunder God seal. The succubus pattern glowed like a demon eye as they plunged into the clouds.
Samui and Asa-cloth clocked the move, brows furrowing.
But then they flashed back to that Root ninja Makoto torched with a Fireball Jutsu—dude didn't even leave ash. Then they looked at their own wrecked states.
Yeah... swallowed whatever snarky shit was on their tongues. Kid acted casual, but he was ruthless when it counted.
Asa-cloth glanced back at the shrinking Fire Country coastline—land looking like a soggy old rag, fading into a blurry line.
She let out a long breath, shoulders dropping. Soon as they crossed the border, Kumo's pickup squad could swing in from Hot Water Country.
At that point? Even if the Third Hokage himself showed up, good luck prying Makoto outta Kumo's grip.
Samui sneaky-side-eyed the kid in her arms.
Sunlight cut through clouds, casting shadows under his lashes. Still just a half-grown teen, but those eyes? Calm as a serial killer's. Way too mature for his age.
A complicated glint flashed in Samui's blue-green pupils. This was Uchiha genius? No wonder they dominated the Warring States era.
She'd heard the rumors—Uchiha Itachi had "Hokage-level thinking" at seven. Used to roll her eyes. Now? Kinda buying it.
Why the hell was he playing along, ditching Konoha so easy? Dude was unreadable. But screw it—didn't matter.
She licked her lips. Whatever. Get him to Kumo, and even if he's a walking nuke, he's our nuke.
The eagle punched through a thin cloud layer; sunlight suddenly blinded.
Dragon hitches clouds, breaks the abyss, rockets to the ninth heaven!
Makoto had been dropping Flying Thunder God kunai the whole way. Suddenly yawned, leaned deeper into Samui's generous chest, head nestling right at her collarbone.
Found the comfiest spot known to man, ready to catch some Z's.
His warm breath tickled her neck; Samui froze solid.
She could feel every strand of hair brushing her skin, the heat seeping through clothes. Stared at his peaceful profile a little too long.
The eagle hauled ass, layer after layer of clouds. Ocean below shifted from blue to inky green. Fire Country coast? Just a smudge now.
No detour to Hot Water Country—straight shot to Lightning Country. Wings beating faster, clearly paranoid about surprises.
Samui's breathing evened out. She peeked at Makoto—dude was actually asleep.
Eyelashes fluttering with each breath. Finally looked his age.
Gotta admit, kid had balls of steel.
She sighed soft, a gentleness in her eyes she didn't even notice.
Whatever Makoto was scheming, once he hit Kumo soil? He was theirs.
Fire Country coast vanished completely. Samui and Asa-cloth locked eyes—pure, barely-contained glee. They actually pulled it off. Snagged an Uchiha prodigy.
All those dead comrades? Didn't die for nothing.
The eagle screeched like thunder, tearing toward Lightning Country's black coastline.
Makoto's lashes twitched. Corner of his mouth curled into a ghost of a smirk.
Lightning Country, Kumogakure...
"I'm comin' in hot, motherfuckers—"
Hours later, sunlight pierced clouds, scattering gold on the sea like a yellow-brick road to Lightning Country.
Makoto cracked his eyes open, staring at the approaching black land. Zero fear. Just hungry, eager anticipation.
The real show's just gettin' started.
.......
Konoha was half-thawed, dirty snow piles in corners, air still stinking of spent explosive tags—like a stomped-out cigarette butt up your nose.
Fallout from a few nights ago lingered. ANBU, Root, and the Military Police had teamed up, smoked almost every Kumo spy lurking in the village.
Even rounded up the leftover Kumo "diplomat" crew and threw 'em in cells.
Hokage's office? Smoke so thick you could bottle it.
Hiruzen Sarutobi sank into his beat-up wooden chair, pipe spinning like a fidget toy. Tobacco hissed, sparks jumping onto the map, burning tiny black holes.
Old man's face was a roadmap of worry lines, staring at Lightning Country like it owed him money. Those Kumo spies paid way too high a price that night—just to poke the bear? Nah.
First explosion? Hiruzen was already hauling ass in wooden clogs toward the new Nine-Tails jinchuriki—Naruto Uzumaki.
Running past the Hokage Rock, past faces lit by fire—looked like the old geezers were yelling at him in silence.
He'd never forget that night years ago. Previous jinchuriki—Kushina Uzumaki—snatched by Kumo spies using the exact same playbook.
Not. Happening. Again.
He burst into Naruto's room; kid was sprawled starfish-style, drooling like a faucet, snoring louder than the damn bombs.
Hiruzen crouched, tucked the blanket around the kid, finger brushing a warm forehead. Finally exhaled. Jinchuriki safe.
But Kumo flipped half the village for what? Use your big toe to think—they wanted something big.
Barrier team reported Kumo "diplomats" broke out. Hiruzen sent ANBU and Root after 'em.
ANBU came back: "Lost 'em. They crossed the Fire Country border."
Hiruzen was tapping ash, pipe knocking the desk. "Crossed the border?"
He squinted, rubbing an old burn scar on the pipe. Then—bam—slammed the desk so hard the bowl nearly flew.
Danzo's report a few days back. From Hyuga Hiashi: Kumo tried kidnapping a main-branch Hyuga heir.
Cold sweat soaked his beard. Voice shook when he yelled for ANBU: "All bloodline clans—self-audit! Anyone missing?!"
ANBU turned; Hiruzen barked: "Especially Hyuga and Uchiha!"
Orders barely out, and crash—porcelain shattered in Root's underground bunker.
Danzo crushed the shards in his palm, voice like gravel: "Knew those Kumo bandits were up to no good!"
" Hiruzen, you're slow. Too old for the hat."
One eye glinted like a shark. Danzo saw chaos, saw opportunity. "Tail ANBU. If bloodline prodigies are in play... acquire."
Root ninjas melted into shadows. No footsteps.
Danzo hobbled out on his cane, heading to "chat" with the Hyuga. Been watching—they were Konoha's other tumor, right up there with Uchiha. Time for the hammer.
Also sent Root's "Nehana" to recruit Makoto. Pull him into Root, "serve Konoha."
Only problem? Kid hadn't left Uchiha compound in days. Nehana couldn't find the little shit.