Naruto: The Last Harbinger of Storm

Naruto: The Last Harbinger of Storm

Chapter 63: The Bound Path And World Around.

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Author's Note:

Hello, dear readers! 🎉✈️

Finally, my exams are over, and I've come out of this torture stronger than before! 💪📚 While I don't want to bloat my ego too much, I'm happy that I'm usually one of the top-ranking students. However, I still find the process of examinations—where they force us to regurgitate massive amounts of information—utterly torturous. 🧠⚡

My exams are doneI thoroughly enjoyed writing this chapter! While some may find it a bit slower or more contemplative, it's a crucial piece of the story that will set the tone for the events to come. 🌟 The political machinations and deep history introduced here will shape the future of the narrative in significant ways. Stay tuned as things start to unravel! 👀

Don't forget to comment and like—your feedback and support mean the world to me! 🙏😊

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"In the shadow of forgotten legends lies a power that transcends generations. Those who forget the past are destined to fear the future."

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Join ThirdFireTriden on Pa(tre)(on) the link is in description or type my name in google search with pat (tre) on remove the space and bracket!

NTLHOS: Chapter 64- The Silence Of Wind Or Is It Life? IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 65: Realisation And Transformation IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 66: The Game Is ONN IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 67: A Storm Is Always Remains A Storm. IS OUT !

NTLHOS: Chapter 68: New threads of Influence is out!

NTLHOS: Chapter 69: Strategy- The Great Heist IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 70: Wrath of Darkness IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 71: "Echoes of Thunder IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 72: The Silent Rebellion IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 73: Glimpse of the Kami no Shinobi IS OUT !!!!!! (New)

NTLHOS: Chapter 74: Tempest of Despair and Hope IS OUT!!!! (New)

NTLHOS: Chapter 75: The Great Assembling IS OUT!!!! (New)

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Last time on NTLHOS:

Her cheeks burned hotter, the proximity between them overwhelming. She swallowed hard, trying to push the sensations aside, but the way his chest pressed against hers with each step only made her more aware of the growing tension between them.

In silence, she allowed herself to be carried, her mind a whirl of confusion and something she wasn't quite ready to admit.

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Now:

In the heart of an untouched forest, far from the turmoil of the known world, a figure sat in deep meditation. The forest seemed to breathe around him—ancient trees towering above, their gnarled roots twisting through the earth like veins, connecting all life in this sacred land. Sunlight filtered gently through the thick canopy, casting dappled light onto the soft, moss-covered ground. A stream nearby murmured softly, its crystal-clear waters reflecting the deep greens and blues of the sky above. Beside the stream, a lone fox and a deer stood, watching the figure with quiet reverence, drawn to the tranquility that seemed to radiate from him.

The man, old yet ageless, was still as stone. His lean, muscular frame appeared sculpted by years of discipline, his skin taut and weathered by time, while his long, white hair flowed down his back like the very river beside him. He sat cradled by the roots of a massive tree, his fingers curled around a smooth wooden staff—its surface worn from years of use, a testament to the power and wisdom it symbolized. His half-closed eyes gazed into the distance, seeing not the physical world, but something far beyond, as if the fabric of reality itself could not contain him.

Naruto woke to the sound of the stream, his senses sluggish at first, slowly piecing together the unfamiliarity of his surroundings. The bed beneath him was nothing more than a rough bamboo mat, the scent of dried grass mingling with the sharp tang of fresh wood. His body ached, muscles taut from his last battle, but his mind felt sharper than ever, filled with questions and uncertainty. Rising from the bed, he stepped out of the modest hut, squinting against the sudden brightness.

The landscape before him was otherworldly. A serene beauty stretched across the clearing—the untouched perfection of nature in its rawest form. The air felt different here, thick with energy that hummed with a kind of purity he'd never sensed before. Every breath felt cleaner, every movement sharper, and yet there was something unsettling about it. His instincts as a shinobi screamed at him that this was no ordinary place. The very chakra that pulsed through this land was… pure.

But despite all his heightened senses, Naruto couldn't feel the presence of the man sitting by the tree. He focused, probing the surroundings, but it was as if the figure did not exist within the realm of chakra. The man simply was—a part of the landscape, a shadow that eluded even his keen perception.

Memories flooded back: the masked man who had called himself the "ghost of Uchiha." Naruto had fought and was defeated by him easily. And then the old sage had appeared, effortlessly dealing with the masked man before dismissing him as a failure, leaving Naruto with more questions than answers. The black creature that appeared out of nowhere had addressed the sage as if they were old acquaintances—an eerie familiarity that unnerved Naruto. Now, he had awakened in this strange land.

Naruto approached the man by the tree, his steps careful but purposeful. The old sage hadn't moved, but Naruto could feel his gaze the moment he stepped into the clearing.

"Where are we?" Naruto asked, his voice quiet yet firm.

The man didn't move, his half-lidded eyes finally shifting to meet Naruto's gaze. There was a stillness to him, a calm that bordered on indifference. "That," the sage replied, his voice low and deliberate, "is none of your concern."

Naruto's brow furrowed, the response only heightening his irritation. "Then at least tell me—who are you?"

The sage's eyes narrowed slightly, studying him with a gravity that made Naruto's skin prickle. He expected a laugh, maybe a condescending remark like their last encounter. But the old man's expression remained serious, his gaze unwavering. "You have not proven yourself worthy," the sage said, "nor have you redeemed yourself to know who I am."

Naruto's heart tightened in his chest. Worthy? Redeemed? His fists clenched as he struggled to maintain his composure. "What redemption? What worthiness?"

The sage tilted his head slightly, as if amused by Naruto's frustration. "The time will come," he said calmly, "when you will understand. But it is not now."

Gritting his teeth, Naruto pressed on. "Then who was the masked man? If he wasn't Madara Uchiha, then who—?"

"A failure," the sage interrupted, his voice cold. "A man who could not accept the reality of his existence."

Naruto blinked, his mind racing. "And the black creature?"

"A product of a god's fall from grace," the sage answered, his voice growing more cryptic with each word.

Naruto's patience finally snapped. Last time, the man had laughed like a madman, mocking him with madness; now he was toying with him through these lies and half-truths. His voice rose, frustration spilling over like a dam breaking. "Enough of these riddles! Can I leave this place or not?"

The sage's expression remained unchanged, calm and indifferent. "You will not leave until I allow it."

Naruto stepped forward, his eyes burning with determination. "I have to leave. My people need me. I don't have time for this!"

The sage's eyes flickered, a subtle sharpening as he responded, his tone cold and cutting. "Your people? Who are you to claim ownership of anyone? Are you so arrogant to believe that the world will collapse without your presence? Foolish boy, the world thrived for thousands of years before you, and it will thrive for thousands more after you. Do not delude yourself into thinking you are indispensable."

Naruto stood still, taken aback by the harshness of the words. The sage met his gaze, his eyes narrowing with an unsettling calm. "When your arrogance and selfishness are finally shattered, only then will you come to me, and your path will end in me. Remember these words. You cling to your pride and ego, desperately holding onto the fractured pieces of yourself. Let those pieces fall, Naruto. When all the masks you wear are stripped away, only then will you see the truth. And even if you refuse to let go, the time will come when those pieces will break on their own. Then… and only then, your path will end here, in this land."

The sage's voice lowered, his gaze unwavering. "Until that time comes, you are not welcome in this holy land. But know this—at the same time, I will not allow you to leave either."

Naruto's pulse quickened. Without another word, he turned, bolting into the trees at full speed, his chakra flaring as he ran. His heart pounded in his chest, each step a blur as he moved, faster and faster, pushing toward the forest's edge. But after what felt like fifteen minutes of sprinting, he skidded to a halt.

The sage stood before him, leaning on his staff, as though he had been waiting there all along.

Naruto cursed under his breath, his eyes narrowing. Without hesitation, he darted in the opposite direction, but again—there he was. The sage reappeared with a flash of white light, his presence unwavering. Jikukan Ninjutsu (Space-Time Ninjutsu), Naruto thought, the realization sinking in.

His frustration mounting, Naruto raised his hand and shouted, "Storm Release: Laser Circus (Ranton: Reizā Sākasu)!" A torrent of red plasma erupted from his open palms, the energy crackling through the air toward the sage. But with a calm flick of his wrist, the sage raised his staff, absorbing the jutsu into its wooden surface as if it were nothing.

Naruto's breath came in heavy pants. He tried again, this time weaving hand signs for a different technique. "Shisui's Teleportation Jutsu - Mirage Step (Shunshin no Jutsu: Kagerō)." He vanished and reappeared behind the man, but as his kunai sliced through the air, the sage caught it effortlessly between his fingers.

Every technique, every attack, was met with the same result. Taijutsu, ninjutsu—nothing pierced the man's defenses. His calm, unwavering presence only deepened Naruto's frustration.

Finally, Naruto stood still, chest heaving, sweat dripping from his brow. "How can I leave?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

The sage smiled faintly. "Ask the original," he said, his gaze drifting back toward the center of the forest. "He is under the same tree."

Naruto's mind raced, but there was nothing left to do. With a deep breath, he turned and began walking toward the ancient tree at the heart of the forest.

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Naruto's mind raced, but there was nothing left to do. With a deep breath, he turned and began walking toward the ancient tree at the heart of the forest. The old man—this mysterious figure—sat there, as still as the tree whose roots he seemed to cradle. His eyes remained half-closed, locked in some unseen contemplation. The silence between them was thick, almost oppressive. For a long moment, neither spoke, but Naruto could sense that they were locked in a confrontation of a different kind—one that required no words.

The two stared at each other, unmoving. And for the first time, Naruto felt something unfamiliar: helplessness. He had a creeping suspicion that if the old man willed it, this silent battle of wills could last for years. Decades, even. He would lose before it ever truly began.

Naruto's teeth clenched, the tension in his jaw unbearable. He could practically feel the old man's patience weighing on him, and it was suffocating. Finally, he broke the silence, his voice tight with controlled frustration. "So," he growled through gritted teeth, "how can I leave this place?"

The old man's eyes remained fully closed, his voice calm yet firm. "First," he replied evenly, "you do not give orders. You make a request."

Naruto's fists tightened, his knuckles turning white as he forced down the anger bubbling inside him. His breath was harsh, ragged, as he forced the words out. "Please... let me know how I can leave this place?"

The old man's eyes remained shut, but a faint smile tugged at his lips. "Is that how you make a request, child? Gritting your teeth like a dog gnawing at a bone?"

Naruto's nails bit into his palms, the frustration building within him like a storm ready to break. But he swallowed it, forcing his tone to soften. "Please," he said, his voice quieter now. "How can I leave this place?"

The old man remained still, unmoved by the shift in Naruto's tone. "Hands clenched and face twisted...," he murmured, "though my eyes are closed, I can still see you."

Naruto's eye twitched in irritation. The fake smile he plastered across his face felt foreign, his body bowing slightly. He forced the words through gritted teeth once more, though he masked it well with a veneer of false politeness. "Please, tell me… how can I leave?"

The old man did not move, his eyes still closed, but his voice carried the weight of finality. "I will tell you, after my meditation. But hear this, child—if you disturb me or move from your place before I am finished, I will never tell you."

Naruto's jaw tightened painfully, every instinct in his body screaming at him to lash out, to break this absurd, irritating calm that cloaked this place. But the words echoed in his mind—never tell you.

So, with a huff, Naruto dropped to the ground where he stood, the dirt and moss beneath him soft. The air was still, and with every passing second, the world around him seemed to grow quieter. The seconds dragged into minutes, and minutes into what felt like hours. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the clearing, the old man had not moved—not even a twitch of his eyelid.

Naruto's impatience gnawed at him like a relentless hunger. He tried to calm himself by focusing on the forest around him, sensing the pure, undisturbed chakra that pulsed through the very earth beneath him. This land—the old man was right to call this a holy place—was unlike anywhere he had been before. The chakra here was so pure, so untouched, it was almost blinding to his senses. The longer he sat, the more he felt it weaving into him, the forest's energy slowly meshing with his own.

For a time, that held his attention. But soon, even that beauty became dull. The silence, once peaceful, now felt oppressive. He glanced at the old man, searching for any sign of movement, any indication that this would soon end. But the man was as still as ever, like a statue carved from the very earth.

The minutes stretched into what felt like years. Boredom crept in. Naruto's gaze wandered to the canopy above, then to the sky beyond, now a blanket of stars glittering brightly. The night had fully settled in, the air cool, almost biting. Fireflies drifted lazily through the clearing, their soft glow adding an ethereal touch to the scene. It was beautiful, in a way, and yet it felt like a cage—a prison of stillness and waiting. The old man hadn't moved. Not once.

Naruto sighed, his body aching from sitting still for so long. He lay back, letting his eyes close for a moment, just a moment, to escape the monotony. The world around him fell away, and before he knew it, sleep had claimed him.

He awoke sometime later, the night deep and still. The sky above was a sea of stars, shimmering as if they were close enough to touch. He felt oddly refreshed, his body filled with a strange energy, despite the discomfort of the ground beneath him. He glanced over at the old man, expecting to see some movement—but there was none. The man remained as still as ever, untouched by the passage of time.

Hours passed. A monkey appeared from the trees, carrying a wooden bowl filled with fruit. The creature placed the offering by the old man's side, moving so silently that not even the forest seemed to notice its presence. Naruto stretched his hands and took the bowl, starting to eat. Naruto watched, tempted to call out, to break the silence, but the memory of that cold, invisible fear—the suffocating aura of something far beyond his comprehension—held his tongue.

He had felt it before, when he had first dared to attempt to shout at the old man. A wave of cold dread had washed over him, stealing the breath from his lungs, paralyzing him with a fear he couldn't explain. That fear had whispered a simple truth: to disturb the old man was to invite something far worse than his boredom.

Naruto waited. Hours passed like days, the monotony stretching into infinity. His mind wandered, his thoughts drifting in and out of focus. How could this man not need food? Water? Even sleep? Or relieve himself? The absurdity of it gnawed at Naruto. His own body screamed for relief, for movement. And yet the man sat, unmoving, untouched by the needs of the mortal world.

Then, as the sun began its slow ascent, casting pale light across the forest, something shifted. Naruto blinked, his tired eyes widening. The old man's form began to glow, faint at first, but growing steadily brighter. An aura radiated from him, soft yet very intense, like the light of the sun. Naruto flared his senses—he could feel it, the chakra radiating from the old man like waves of pure energy.

The air around him buzzed with life, the very forest itself seeming to breathe in rhythm with the man. It was as if the entire world was drawn toward him, its energy converging and flowing through his body, before returning to the earth, renewed and purified. Naruto's breath caught in his throat. Even his own chakra, which he had long honed and sharpened, felt as though it was being pulled toward the old man, purified before being returned to him in a form more refined. It was as if invisible hands were working on his very core, the fundamentals of his being.

He rubbed his eyes, unsure if he was truly seeing what lay before him. The phenomena were beyond anything he'd ever experienced. For a moment, he questioned his own sanity—he had no dojutsu, no bloodline to allow him to see chakra. And yet… there it was. The old man, a beacon of energy, drawing the life of the forest into himself and radiating it back.

Naruto blinked again, and the vision faded. The forest returned to its stillness, the man now ordinary once more, sitting with his eyes closed, unmoved.

Had he imagined it? Had exhaustion clouded his mind? But when Naruto reached for his own chakra, it felt different—lighter, purer. He hadn't noticed the change in his frustration, but now it was undeniable and was no figment of imagination.

Just as the thought settled in his mind, the old man slowly opened his eyes.

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Naruto barely had time to react before the words slipped from his mouth, his impatience spilling over like a child's. "So… how can I leave here?" His voice came out sharper than he intended. The old man raised a single eyebrow, and Naruto caught himself, forcing an awkward smile as he backtracked. "I mean… can you please show this lost soul how to exit this place?"

The old man's gaze remained steady, his expression unreadable. "That is my duty," he replied, his voice low and measured, "but I don't think you're asking how to depart from your body, are you?" There was a flicker of amusement in his tone, but it vanished as he continued. "You wish for me to allow you to leave these lands. Fine. Do one thing, and you will be free."

Naruto's heart leapt, a glimmer of hope stirring. "What is it?" he asked, leaning forward.

The old man rummaged around for a moment before producing a simple, slender object—a bamboo stick. With a smooth motion, he thrust it toward Naruto, who blinked in confusion.

Naruto looked down at the object, his hope turning into disbelief. "This?" he asked incredulously, pointing at the stick. It wasn't a weapon or tool—it was a flute.

The old man nodded, his face solemn, completely serious. "Yes, this. Learn to play it to my satisfaction, and you may leave."

Naruto's face twisted into a scowl, his irritation barely contained. "I'm a shinobi, not a musician. I can kill a man from miles away with a single strike, I can decimate entire battalions with my Storm Release. Give me a task like that—something that makes sense. But this? I won't do it."

The old man's eyes hardened, his tone final. "This, or nothing." He extended the flute further, unmoving, unwavering.

For a long moment, they stared at each other, the air thick with silent tension. Naruto's fists clenched at his sides, every instinct screaming at him to resist. Yet the old man's calm, impenetrable patience only made his frustration mount. Finally, with a low growl, Naruto snatched the flute from the man's hand, muttering under his breath. "Stubborn old men…"

"How am I supposed to learn this?" Naruto asked bitterly, turning the flute over in his hands as if it were a cursed object.

"I will teach you," the old man said, his tone soft but firm, "but with one caveat. I will show you each technique only once. After that, the rest is up to you."

Naruto glared at the instrument, feeling utterly ridiculous. He was a weapon of war, a force of nature. And now? Now he was stuck learning to play a flute like a helpless child. He sighed, feeling the weight of the absurdity settle on him like a boulder.

As the old man settled back into his peaceful meditation, Naruto glared down at the flute as if it had personally offended him. He turned it over in his hands, baffled by the idea that this simple stick could somehow unlock his freedom. A flute? Out of all the challenges he'd faced—battles, assassins, masked maniacs—this seemed like the most ridiculous test of all.

With a resigned sigh, Naruto brought the flute to his lips, his fingers fumbling over the tone holes. He blew into it, hoping for something that resembled music. Instead, the flute emitted a sound so horrendous it made him wince. It wasn't just off—it was a screech, the kind of sound that could send even the bravest shinobi running for cover.

The effect was immediate. Birds took to the sky in a panicked flutter, their wings beating frantically as they fled the horrific noise. A family of squirrels abandoned their tree as if it were on fire, and even a small fox, who had been curiously watching from the brush, turned tail and bolted into the undergrowth.

Undeterred, Naruto adjusted his fingers, trying to cover the tone holes properly. He blew again, his cheeks puffing out comically. This time, the flute let out a noise somewhere between a dying cat and a rusty gate being forced open. Naruto flinched, pulling the flute away from his lips like it had betrayed him. The surrounding forest seemed to echo with silence—too stunned, perhaps, to react further. Even the insects had gone still, as if the sound had knocked nature itself off balance.

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In the dimly lit chamber of the Rebel camp, Terumi Mei sat behind her polished desk, her delicate fingers tapping rhythmically against its surface. The glow of the setting sun filtered through the large windows, casting long shadows that stretched across the room. Her face, usually composed and regal, now held a trace of frustration as she leaned back in her chair, her vibrant red hair cascading over her shoulders. Across from her, Ao stood, arms crossed, his one good eye focused on her, while the other—beneath the patch—remained hidden, as if still watching a world Mei couldn't see.

"We owe him that much, Ao," Mei began, her tone sharp, though it was clear the edge wasn't directed at him. "Our victory, however small it was, hinged on his contribution. Where is he now, when we need him—he vanishes like smoke."

Ao shifted his weight, the lines on his face deepening. "Mizukage-sama, with all due respect," he said gruffly, "you are not exactly allying yourself with a reputable businessman who hands out his contact details. Naruto Uzumaki is a missing-nin, a man on the run. No one can keep track of him—not even us."

Mei's brow furrowed, her emerald eyes narrowing. She let out a soft sigh, her frustration easing into something more thoughtful. "I know, Ao, but we need him. The first semblance of victory was his doing. But of course…" her lips twisted into a bitter smile, "he's no one to leave a calling card behind, is he?"

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In the stone-walled chamber of the Tsuchikage's office, shadows clung to every corner, weighed down by decades of secrets and battles long past. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment, the crackling of a nearby lantern providing the only light as dusk settled over the village of Iwagakure. Raitonben no Onoki, the aged but sharp-eyed Tsuchikage, sat behind a heavy desk, his hands moving methodically over stacks of paperwork. His once-broad shoulders had stooped with the burden of time, yet his presence was undeniable—like a mountain, unmovable despite the erosion of years.

Across from him, Kurotsuchi paced, her frustration tangible as her boots struck the stone floor with every step. She was a firestorm of energy, her dark hair swinging behind her with every movement, her face twisted in anger. Akatsuchi, ever the loyal giant, stood silently by, his massive frame a calm contrast to her fury.

"Grandpa, are you even listening to me?" Kurotsuchi's voice was sharp, each word cutting through the room like a thrown kunai. Her hands were clenched into tight fists at her sides, her frustration evident in every inch of her posture.

Onoki didn't look up immediately, his hand still poised over his papers. It wasn't that he didn't hear her; he just needed a moment to brace for her words. Finally, with a slow blink, he glanced up, his weathered face impassive. "Eh? What were you saying again?"

Kurotsuchi's eyes blazed with irritation, her lips curling as she stopped pacing. "The Namikaze's son is still on the run!" Her voice rose, her words practically seething. "How can you just sit there, acting like this isn't important?"

Onoki sighed deeply, the sound of an old man who had lived through far too many battles, far too many angry words. Ah, this again. The grievances of youth, the relentless fire that burned so brightly in Kurotsuchi's eyes—always demanding action, always seeking justice. But Onoki had seen too much to be stirred so easily anymore.

"And what about it?" he said, his tone carrying the calm weight of someone who had faced far greater storms. "Didn't we already place a bounty on him?"

Kurotsuchi's face flushed with rage, her eyes narrowing. "It's not enough! His father—Minato—killed countless Iwa shinobi. Need I remind you, Grandfather, that your son was one of them! And his mother—she butchered your other son and daughter-in-law in cold blood! How can you be so calm when their child still walks free?"

Onoki's hand stilled, the pen poised in midair. The room fell into a heavy silence, her words striking a nerve that had long since scarred over but never healed. His gaze darkened as old memories resurfaced—memories of loss, of war, of faces long gone. His eyes, though dimmed by age, flickered with something sharp and ancient as he met Kurotsuchi's fiery stare.

"I haven't forgotten," Onoki said, his voice low, but the weight behind it silenced her for a moment. The words carried decades of grief, the kind of pain that lay buried deep in his bones. "But this isn't about revenge." He leaned back in his chair, the tension in his shoulders visible even beneath his Kage robes. "Yes, Minato killed my son in battle. His wife took more from our clan than I care to recount. But this boy, Naruto Uzumaki... he's a danger for a very different reason."

Kurotsuchi's anger simmered, but confusion now tinged her expression. She opened her mouth to speak, but Onoki raised a hand to silence her. His eyes grew distant, as though he were looking back through the years, not at the present.

"It's not because he's Minato's son," he began slowly, each word deliberate, heavy with memory. "It's because of the bloodline he carries—the same bloodline as His Grace, Ashina Uzumaki."

At the mention of the name, Akatsuchi's eyes widened, and even Kurotsuchi froze, the weight of the name silencing any protest she had left. Onoki's voice grew quieter, as if speaking of Ashina required a kind of reverence—a fear that still clung to the back of his throat.

"You weren't alive to witness it, Kurotsuchi," Onoki continued, his tone grave, "but I was. I'll never forget the day Ashina Uzumaki, the last great lord of Uzushio, stood on the battlefield. We thought we had them cornered—we had breached Uzushio's defenses. Three Kage, Hanzo the Salamander, and four jinchuriki. We thought it would be enough."His voice trembled slightly, the memory of that day still vivid in his mind. "We were wrong."

Kurotsuchi's eyes widened, her mouth falling slightly open as Onoki's words sunk in. The old Tsuchikage's face tightened, his hands clenching slightly on the desk as he spoke.

"His Grace was over two hundred years old then—frail, we thought. Barely breathing." He paused, his gaze distant. "But the power he unleashed… the skies themselves bowed to him that day. He killed eighty thousand men by himself. Eighty thousand, Kurotsuchi. He decimated the jinchuriki as though they were nothing. The Third Mizukage didn't survive the day. Hanzo barely escaped. I was wounded. The Third Raikage was wounded. And Ashina... Ashina was still standing."

He let the silence hang in the air, the sheer scale of what he was saying sinking in. The faint tremor in his voice was enough to send a shiver down Kurotsuchi's spine.

"It took everything we had to kill him," Onoki continued, his voice softening. "Even then, with all the seals, the enhancements he used to reach a semblance of his former self, I finally understood why the Second Tsuchikage had warned me—do not set your sights on Uzushio as long as Ashina breathes." His voice grew even quieter, almost as if he feared the words themselves. "I didn't listen. I thought him too old, too frail. I learned that day why no records exist of the true power of his Storm Release. Because no one lived long enough to write them."

Kurotsuchi's face paled, her fiery anger dimming as she took in the weight of her grandfather's words. The reverence in his tone wasn't just respect—it was fear. A fear that had survived decades, a fear that still lived in the silence that followed his every word.

"I'm not afraid that Naruto Uzumaki will become another Fourth Hokage," Onoki said, his voice firm but somber. "The Fourth... Minato... he was a man of great power, but I could face him. Even if he was hailed as a low SSS-rank shinobi, he was manageable. But Ashina Uzumaki?" Onoki's eyes darkened, the memory of Ashina's power still casting a long shadow over him. "That man was something else entirely."

His voice dropped to a whisper, the fear in it tangible. "Those of us who lived through that day... we still call him His Grace. Not out of respect, but out of fear. Ashina wasn't just a shinobi. He was a force of nature, a living god. He stood alongside men like Hashirama and Madara, and though he was a daimyo, that's not why we use the title. When we say His Grace, it's not for his rank. It's for the power that made nations tremble."

Kurotsuchi stood frozen, her anger gone, replaced by an understanding that went beyond words. Onoki's voice, though quiet, had shaken her to her core.

Onoki sighed deeply, the weight of his years pressing down on him once more. "If Naruto Uzumaki carries even a fraction of that bloodline's power, we must be prepared. This isn't about revenge, Kurotsuchi. It's about survival."

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In another part of the world, in the heart of Kumogakure, the hulking Raikage sat behind his massive desk, his muscled arms resting on its surface like dormant weapons. His sharp eyes, gleaming with power and authority, flicked from one face to another in the room. Before him stood a group of the village's finest—Killer Bee, Yugito, Darui, Mabui, and Dodai, the old advisor who had once served the Third Raikage.

The room buzzed with the tension of unspoken questions. The air outside was thick with the weight of impending storms, yet inside the chamber, it was the silence that felt oppressive.

The Raikage's deep voice rumbled like distant thunder, shattering the quiet. "What's Minato's brat up to now?"

Darui, ever the calm and composed shinobi, stepped forward slightly. "No new sightings, Lord Raikage. It's like he's vanished from the face of the earth. The last rumor we picked up was about him rescuing Pakura of the Scorch Release from Orochimaru… and one unidentified person with him."

The Raikage's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening in response. He didn't like loose ends, and Naruto Uzumaki was fast becoming one.

Dodai, his face etched with the wisdom of years, raised a hand respectfully. "I may be out of the loop, Lord Raikage, but is it true? Does Kushina Uzumaki's son hold Storm Release? I haven't been updated on these recent developments."

Darui turned his head slightly to address the elder. "Yes, Lord Dodai. According to our intelligence, Naruto Uzumaki has the true Storm Release."

Yugito crossed her arms, her amber eyes flashing with skepticism. "What's the difference? So, he has it naturally. We work for our power. Darui's an S-rank shinobi because of his mastery of Storm Release and Black Lightning. Are we supposed to just be scared that this brat has it by birth?"

Dodai's expression darkened slightly, his voice taking on a patient but firm tone as he addressed Yugito's skepticism. "There's a world of difference, Yugito," he began. "It's like comparing the people of the Land of Snow using their artificial Snow Release and calling it Ice Release. It's not the same as what the Yuki clan wields. The real Ice Release is something that flows in the blood—it's not something that can just be created artificially. The same goes for the Mud Release the Third Hokage uses. It's not a bloodline limit, but a combination of water and earth that can be replicated with enough control. Yes, it's difficult—impressively so—but no one would dare compare it to the legendary Mokuton of His Grace, Hashirama Senju."

He added, "I would know, being a user of dual bloodlines—one natural, the Lava Release, and the other Rubber Release, my own creation. It takes a lifetime to combine and artificially create lower sub-elements like Mud, Rubber, and Storm. But no one would compare them to the real things, like Mokuton or the true Storm Release."

At the mention of Hashirama, the room fell into a deeper silence, the reverence palpable.

Dodai continued, his voice growing heavy with memory. "I was there, Yugito. Even your father A— Z, the man we thought was invincible—was brought to the edge of death by His Grace, Ashina Uzumaki." The old man's face tensed, the memories etched into every line. "In all my years, I've only seen the Third Raikage struggle against two people: the Third Hokage in battle, and in his youth, the Second Hokage—where he clearly lost. But in the peak of his strength, with Hanzo, two other Kage, and your predecessor—the jinchuriki of the Eight and Two-Tails—Ashina Uzumaki nearly brought him to his knees."

The younger shinobi were stunned. Yugito's arms slowly unfolded, her anger replaced by quiet disbelief. Killer Bee, for once, stood without a word, the usually boisterous jinchuriki uncharacteristically silent, his mind linking with the Eight-Tails, who showed him a vivid memory of that battle.

Dodai's gaze grew distant as he spoke, recalling the harrowing memory. "We thought the battle would be ours, even with Ashina Uzumaki standing against us. But it took every ounce of power, every drop of strength, to survive him. If not for the fact that the enhancements Ashina Uzumaki used began to wear off, none of us would have made it back. We would have been annihilated. I thank the gods every day that his power waned when it did."

The Raikage, his face grim, nodded slightly. He had known this story well, passed down to him when he took the mantle of Kage, but hearing Dodai retell it brought the full weight of his responsibilities crashing back.

Yugito, her voice quieter now, asked, "What sort of enhancements? Is it something we can replicate? A power like that… surely we could find a way to harness it."

Dodai's eyebrow twitched slightly, a flash of irritation in his usually calm demeanor. "Are you daft, girl? If that sort of enhancement existed today, everyone would be drinking it like tea. Ashina-sama's power wasn't something to be gained by simple means. The enhancements he used were… unnatural. They were life-draining, a desperate attempt to reclaim the glory of his prime. It wasn't a strength you could harness without paying a terrible price. It's like tapping into the very core of your life force, clawing backward through time itself. What Ashina did was at the cost of his life, and only someone of his caliber could pull it off—no one else could replicate it, let alone survive."

Darui stepped forward, his usually relaxed posture more alert. "Lord Dodai, if I may… I was there when the Third Raikage attempted to recreate the Storm Release. We tweaked his Black Lightning for years. Experiment after experiment, we finally found the correct balance, and I was the first success."

Dodai's expression softened as he looked at Darui, a faint smile touching his lips. "I remember. It was a proud moment for us. But while others cheered, the Raikage and I knew the truth. What you wield, Darui, though formidable, is nothing compared to the true Storm Release—the kind Ashina wielded. Still, you've made it your own, and you've earned your power through sweat and blood. No one can take that from you."

Killer Bee, who had been unusually quiet up to this point, suddenly let out a low hum, his voice uncharacteristically serious. "Kushina Uzumaki… She killed my predecessor and many more Kumo shinobi with that snake, Minato's wife… she wasn't no pushover. I fought her once, long ago. She nearly sealed me, man, and that's no show. Uzumaki blood runs deep, their power, it don't sleep. If Minato's son's got that storm flow, we better be ready, yo."

The Raikage's hand clenched at the mention of Kushina, the "she-devil" who had evaded capture in their failed attempts long ago. His eyes narrowed as he considered the implications. His mind drifted to the chaos that could unfold if Naruto Uzumaki truly wielded the full might of his bloodline. His father had feared Minato, but Naruto was an unknown quantity—an unpredictable force whose power had not yet been fully realized.

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NTLHOS: Chapter 64- The Silence Of Wind Or Is It Life? IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 65: Realisation And Transformation IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 66: The Game Is ONN IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 67: A Storm Is Always Remains A Storm. IS OUT !

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NTLHOS: Chapter 70: Wrath of Darkness IS OUT!

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