THAT NIGHT, ARTHUR LEFT THE CAMP and found a tree on the outskirts. He climbed it and settled into the branches before choosing to rest. Not fully asleep, his senses were kept sharp through the night.
At dawn, he arose without any disturbance.
Now he knew he had to shift tactics, so he changed his form into something native to the land: a blue jay that wouldn't draw attention. His wings caught the morning breeze as he flew back toward the congregation. Once there, he circled once before finding a rooftop to land on near the Five-Tails.
The Five-Tails groaned now and then. The noise wasn't loud, but it carried a heavy tone of pain. Even unconscious, the creature suffered. Its limbs were bound, and its chakra was being suppressed by the sealed lock.
Soon, movement below drew his attention.
Fujin had exited a building, and with him came a large number of the congregation's members. They moved toward the square in a group, murmuring among themselves, but with no real confusion. It looked like they had just come out of a morning meeting.
It wasn't long until a man stepped forward and broke their pattern. Arthur focused on him.
"What thou'rt doing is wrong," the man announced. "The sacred beast should be let free."
The others around Fujin looked between the two, waiting to see how it would unfold. Then Fujin stepped forward and asked, "Art thou speaking against the order of things?"
"Nay," the man replied. "I am honouring what our forefathers did pass down. The sacred beasts were never meant to be caged. They were guardians of the land, bound to the shrines. They were free."
The crowd didn't react kindly; they laughed and mocked him. Some even rolled their eyes, while others crossed their arms in annoyance.
The idea of sacred beasts being free didn't hold meaning for them anymore. Fujin had shaped their thinking and changed their beliefs. Ninshu wasn't something sacred in this part of the land. It had been converted to ninjutsu, a weapon. And the beasts were its fuel.
Arthur listened closely, knowing that the man wasn't wrong. At least not in the historical sense. But in this place, the truth didn't matter. What mattered was control. And so far, it was Fujin who held the most control right now.
"I sense rebellion in thee!" he announced.
Because of this, no one stepped forward to support the man as Fujin looked toward the guards and gave a simple order. The man was seized, and his protests were cut short once the guards dragged him away.
"Thou art making a grievous mistake!" he tried warning.
Yet no one stopped the guards from taking him away. It was clear that once Fujin gave the command, no one wanted to object. Not fully out of respect, but out of fear.
Moments later, the man protesting was thrown into the brig, and the mood in the square shifted back to normal. Conversations resumed, and the crowd slowly broke apart. The Five-Tails remained silent, still bound, still in pain.
Arthur therefore spread his wings and took off, rising above the congregation and circling once before heading toward the open sky. He had time. He would wait. And when the moment came, he'd be ready to act.
✟
Two days passed before Arthur returned to the congregation at night. The time spent masquerading as a bird paid off well.
During the day, he trained far from sight to keep both his body and chakra well refined. At night, he returned in secret and watched for anything worth learning.
He surveyed and studied every movement, memorized every pattern, and slowly built an understanding of the congregation's routines. The more he saw, the more he confirmed what he needed to know.
For instance, Fujin always left camp late in the evening with a small party. They hunted through the night and didn't return until just before dawn. The guards assigned to the Five-Tails rotated every four hours. Their vigilance varied. Some kept to their post carefully, while others grew tired and careless during the later hours.
The Five-Tails had also changed. It was awake now, though it remained bound.
Arthur had watched it struggle more than once—raising its head slightly, trying to rise—only to collapse again. It was weak. Its chakra was still being suppressed by the seal, and whatever pain it felt had not faded.
The beast couldn't move far even if it wanted to. But it was awake, and that mattered. Because tonight, Fujin had left again, just as Arthur expected.
Two guards had been assigned to the Five-Tails. And now, with most of the camp asleep and the timing exactly right, he made his move.
'Transformation jutsu…'
He transformed again, this time into a serpent, and slithered low through the dark. He then approached the perimeter of the cage without being seen.
The Five-Tails stirred but made no sound. One of the guards wandered to the far side of the cage. The second stayed closer, being within a few feet of Arthur's position.
Arthur patiently waited. When the second guard stepped slightly away from the firelight, he slithered across the dirt and wound toward the man's foot. As soon as he was close enough, he dropped the transformation. Then quickly, he rose behind the guard, wrapped one arm around his neck, and pressed the other hand against the side of his head.
'Eye mind reading jutsu…'
Before the man could cry out, Arthur invaded his thoughts. Memories from the guard's mind passed into Arthur's own. He sifted through what he needed: routine, a sealed structure, security shifts, and chakra signatures—then let go.
The guard collapsed, unconscious, before he hit the ground. And the entire process had taken less than a minute to complete.
The Five-Tails had watched everything. Its massive eyes widened. Arthur turned toward it and raised a finger to his lips, gesturing for silence. So the beast remained still.
'Simian Sage Mode…'
After shifting forms, Arthur stepped forward and reached out to place his palm against the seal that kept the Five-Tails bound. From the guard's memories, he had learned something important: the seal was adjustable. Its strength could be increased if one knew how to manipulate the core mechanisms.
Why he chose this covert manner was because he remembered that Fujin had personally taught these guards how to adjust this seal. And if one could increase the strength of this seal, then it meant the technique could also be reversed to weaken it.
Arthur pushed his Sage Chakra into the seal by letting it flow. The ethereal lock glowed faintly in response. He had to be careful not to overwhelm but to probe the network.
In just a few seconds, small cracks began to form across the surface. The process was slowly working. Then, without warning, a spark of yellow chakra shot from the seal and struck his hands. He recoiled a little, and now his palm was burned.
The surge had come from a defensive layer built into the core, something to punish the beast if it tried to use chakra.
Arthur didn't panic as he instinctively activated his Regenerative Healing ability. Once the pain faded, he placed his hand right back on the seal.
This time, he didn't rush. He focused by reaching past the outer layers to find the core mechanism behind the seal, a circular point buried in the middle. He fed his Sage Chakra into it in thin, steady streams. When the connection was formed, he gripped the seal by hand and pulled back.
The cage trembled, surprising the Five-Tails as a sharp crack split the air, and the binding symbols shattered in a burst of light.
The beast didn't hesitate. It quickly charged out of the cage and let out a roar so loud that it shook the ground.
"What the heck?!" the other guard shouted, turning too late. He stumbled backward upon seeing the Five-Tails freed from its cage. "Oh no!"
The camp woke up in seconds. Residents ran from their shelters, only to freeze at the sight before them. The Five-Tails, massive and thrashing, stood at the center of the square, completely unbound. That caused screams to quickly break out.
"Run!"
"Somebody call Fujin!"
"Get thee hence!"
But it was already too late for most of them to react. The Five-Tails reared up, let out another deafening roar, and sprinted through the open space. It barreled through the gates of the camp by kicking up dirt and smashing debris as it escaped into the night.
Its movements were heavy and unbalanced but determined. Anyone could tell that it wasn't trying to fight; it was desperate to get away.
The settlers didn't give chase. Or rather, they couldn't. Many fell to the ground to crawl away in fear. Others stood frozen, for their minds were unable to process what had happened. The few who tried to rally a response couldn't get anyone to listen.
The beast was getting away by the second, and no one had the strength or nerve to follow it.
Outside of the congregation, the Five-Tails ran in a straight line without pause. The night stretched on as it kept running through the darkness, and the world around it was quiet, save for the steady pounding of its paws and the wind rushing past its body.
Nothing in its path tried to block or slow it down. It was simply driven by instinct and the need to keep moving.
When dawn approached, the beast finally found a lake. It slowed down and approached the water's edge. Carefully, it lowered its snout and began drinking. The water was refreshing after days of fasting and running. It hadn't eaten or drunk anything since it had been captured, relying on its chakra to survive.
It closed its eyes, contented by the coolness of the water as it swallowed.
"I see you're happy," a voice said, breaking the silence.
The beast's eyes snapped open, and it saw Arthur's reflection in the water. He was standing on top of the beast, as if he had been there all along. The beast therefore lifted its head, meeting Arthur's gaze.
"You!" it began. "You followed me?"
"If riding on your back counts as following," he casually answered, "then yes."
The beast was flabbergasted. Not because Arthur was here, but because he had managed to stay on its back all night without being sensed. It had been running through the darkness, yet Arthur had remained hidden on top, unseen.
To the Five-Tails, that was impressive.
"You're the first man to ever ride me without falling," the beast admitted.
"Are you implying that others have ridden you before?"
"Well..." the beast hesitated, stumbling over its words. "No, I meant—"
Before it could finish, Arthur flipped down from the beast's head. He softly landed on the ground and turned to face it.
The beast watched him with much curiosity. Its expression was full of interest. How could it not be? Arthur was the one who had rescued it from captivity. That alone made him special in its eyes.
"Why did you help me?" it finally asked.
"Did you already forget?" he simply wondered. "We can't meet a thousand years from now if you're trapped in a cage all day."
A silence settled between them. The beast processed his words, then, unexpectedly, it did the one thing Arthur had not expected: it laughed. The sound was strange coming from such a fierce creature, but it was genuine—a rare moment of levity.
"It seems as though I owe you for rescuing me," it said, still chuckling. Then it looked at him and asked, "Tell me then, Mr. Arthur, what would you like from me?"
"Just a promise."
"A promise?" the beast repeated, tilting its head in confusion.
"Until the day you die, promise me that you keep my identity a secret."
The beast studied him carefully, trying to understand the gravity of those words. Then, finally, it said, "I promise. And I look forward to the next time we meet."
"Likewise, Kokuō…"