Naruto: Vengeance

Some say it began at the ruined fortress in the Land of Claw.

Others trace the blood trail back to the missing daimyo's caravan in the Land of Iron, where not even the steel-tipped spears had been left behind — just ash and silence.

But it wasn't until the valley massacre — thirty-nine mercenaries turned to corpses, chakra burned out, bodies severed by unseen blades — that the world began to whisper his name.

Not a name.

A title.

The Chain Ghost.

No one had seen his face. No one who did was left with breath in their lungs.

All they had were fragments.

"Red hair."

"Eyes like embers."

"Chains that moved like thoughts."

"No chakra... no noise... only death."

In the Land of Earth, an old Tsuchikage sat still as stone while his advisor read the report aloud.

"Unknown shinobi has eliminated three independent cells operating under our black network. Reports suggest... sealing techniques. Highly advanced chakra suppression. Chain-based weapons."

Onoki said nothing.

He stared out the window at the red horizon.

"...Uzushiogakure," he murmured.

"Sir?"

"Those chains. That control. That silence. That isn't an accident."

His hand gripped the edge of his cane.

"They missed one."

In the Land of Water, the new Mizukage crumpled a scroll in her hand.

Blood. Chains. Fire. And a mark.

A spiral — the crest of the Uzumaki clan, burned into the chest of one of the corpses.

The old hunters had called them too stubborn to die.

Apparently, they'd been right.

In the Land of Lightning, the Raikage read a long list of names — rogue jōnin, smuggling captains, informants.

Dead.

Silenced.

"Ghost?" he scoffed. "No. This is a damn reaper."

He leaned back in his chair.

"If this is one of the Uzumaki... then the villages that helped wipe them out just woke something they can't seal."

In Konoha, the air was colder than usual.

Tsunade stared at the memorial wall.

A small spiral symbol had appeared beneath the stone slab — carved into the rock with surgical precision. A sign no ANBU had seen it placed.

She didn't report it.

Not yet.

But she knew.

And deep down, she hoped.

Meanwhile, Danzo stood in the Root chamber, listening to his scouts speak of "rumors."

He didn't believe in ghosts.

But he did believe in consequences.

"The Uzumaki were not supposed to survive," he whispered.

One Root agent dared speak.

"What if... he was the boy?"

Danzo turned slowly.

"What boy?"

"The one Hatake claimed was... killed."

Silence.

Danzo didn't blink.

Then he said quietly, "If it's him… then it's not just revenge."

The silence deepened.

"It's judgment."

No one remembered the name Naruto Uzumaki anymore.

That name had been erased.

What remained now walked in myth and dread.

A survivor of the whirlpool.

A child forged from genocide and betrayal.

Not a savior.

Not a weapon.

Not a shinobi.

Only a reckoning.

It was said the Chain Ghost didn't speak.

That his silence was the last thing you heard before your chakra froze in your veins.

That his blade didn't draw blood — it drew truth.

That every corpse he left behind carried a seal not meant to destroy, but to remind.

The spiral.

The mark of the clan that the Five Great Nations helped destroy.

In an underground gambling den in Rain Country, mercenaries argued about the legend.

"He's not real."

"I heard he killed twelve in one breath."

"Uzumaki don't exist anymore."

"I heard he's the son of the Fourth Hokage."

"No — he's what's left after the world burns."

They all fell silent when a messenger hawk dropped a small black scroll on the table.

They opened it.

Inside: a name list.

Four of the gamblers were on it.

No message.

Just a date.

Tomorrow.

In the deepest forest in Lightning Country, a missing-nin tried to break the seal he found on his door — a spiral with his real name written on it.

He screamed until dawn.

No one ever found his body.

The world hadn't seen a god.

Not yet.

But it had seen what happens when history comes back with teeth.

And no village could unwrite what was coming.

Because the man they tried to bury was no longer a boy.

And he had chains for hands and a graveyard in his eyes.