The dust hung thick in the air like a heavy curtain—swirling, suffocating, and silent.
On one side of the wreckage, the film crew, Sandayu, and the rest of the caravan stared with wide, unblinking eyes. No one moved. Not a breath, not a sound. It was as if time itself bowed down to what they'd just witnessed.
Naruto Uzumaki—red hair tousled by the wind, chakra still flickering faintly like dying embers around his hands—stood unmoved, unbent, untouched.
He had shattered a train.
Not metaphorically. Not symbolically. Literally. A solid, iron-plated machine of destruction was now twisted like crumpled paper beneath his feet.
Somewhere in the silence, one crew member dropped their cup. It hit the snow with a dull thud. That was the only sound.
And then…
"They're alive," Kakashi said, narrowing his eyes.
The wind shifted, and the dust began to clear.
Across the demolished bridge, through the ruined mist of steam and steel, silhouettes emerged—staggered, bruised, but breathing.
Doto groaned, clutching his arm. Blood trickled down his temple. Nadare stood beside him, panting hard, a deep gash across his shoulder. It was him—Nadare—who'd reacted fast enough to yank Doto out of the way. They hadn't dodged the power. Just fate.
They were lucky. But they knew luck wouldn't last.
The moment their vision locked onto Naruto again…
Their bodies froze.
It wasn't just fear. It was terror. Ancient, primal, undeniable.
Fubuki took a step back. "We can't fight him… we can't win."
Doto's jaw clenched, but even his pride was trembling. "He's just one brat," he spat—but his voice cracked halfway through.
Mizore's voice was dry. "No. That's not a brat. That's a message."
And the message was clear:
"If you threaten what's dear to me—your end won't be quick."
Koyuki clung to Naruto like a child holding onto the last shred of warmth in a winter storm. Her arms wrapped around him, her breath trembling against his back.
But Naruto, ever the awkward warrior with a gentle heart, nudged her lightly and whispered, "Princess… the others are watching. And we still have enemies left to deal with."
Realization hit like a snowball to the face. Koyuki squeaked, her eyes darting to the crowd. Faces. Smirks. Sasuke raising an eyebrow. Karin with a knowing grin.
Her face went full crimson.
Without a word, she bolted to the nearest vehicle and slammed the door behind her, hiding her flustered expression like a squirrel burying nuts in panic. The whole crew erupted into warm laughter, easing the thick tension like the sun peeking through storm clouds.
And just like that—the mood shifted.
But Naruto's steps didn't stop.
He turned from the group and walked toward the wreckage—toward Doto.
The wind grew quiet again.
"Doto-sama," Nadare said, placing himself between Naruto and the disgraced daimyo, "Run. We'll stall him. You must survive. You can't die here."
But Naruto didn't even blink.
He passed Nadare without looking at him—like walking past a leaf on the road. A bead of sweat rolled down Nadare's temple. He lunged with a cry—
—Clang!—Kakashi intercepted, calm as ever. "He warned you," the Copy Ninja muttered.
Mizore tried his luck—Sasuke met his punch with his own.
Even Fubuki, trembling like a leaf in a blizzard, lunged with hesitant fear—but Karin's hand caught her wrist with practiced grace.
Naruto kept walking.
His chakra didn't rage, didn't scream. It hummed. A low, dangerous lullaby. Calm. Controlled. Terrifying.
And then, he stood before Doto.
"So…" Naruto said, voice low and razor-sharp. "You're Doto. The one who murdered his own brother—for what? Power? Wealth? Glory?"
He tilted his head, eyes glowing faintly—not blue, but a deep, rich crimson.
"To kill your kin for coin," Naruto continued, "isn't just cowardice. It's hollow. It means you were empty long before you swung the blade."
Doto staggered back, breath catching in his throat.
To him, Naruto wasn't a boy anymore.
He wasn't even a shinobi.
He was a demon cloaked in snowfall—retribution incarnate.
Inside Naruto's Mindscape
The familiar darkness rippled as Kurama's massive form emerged behind the bars, his eyes narrowing.
"Oi, Naruto," he rumbled. "Cool it. You're leaking bloodlust like a broken faucet."
Naruto stood still, breath steady, eyes unblinking.
"You know how I feel about betrayal, Kurama," he said, voice low and quiet.
Kurama growled, but there was no anger—only concern. "Yeah. I do. But you're not the kind of guy who drowns his enemies in fear. You rise above it."
That made Naruto breathe deeper. He exhaled slowly, bloodlust fading like a dying ember.
Back in Reality
To Doto, those few seconds felt like a thousand deaths layered one over the other. His knees trembled. His body shivered, drenched in sweat despite the icy air. He couldn't move—wouldn't move.
Naruto stared at him, a flicker of disappointment crossing his eyes.
"I don't fight cowards," he said. "Especially those who've already lost everything."
Doto's lips parted, but no sound escaped. Just the rattling breath of a man who'd seen the edge of death and realized how pitiful he truly was.
Naruto stepped closer, leaned slightly in.
"Your fate… that's not mine to decide."
He turned slightly toward the others.
"It belongs to Koyuki."
But just as he finished, he raised his hand and—CRACK—delivered a clean, swift punch to Doto's jaw. Not enough to kill. Just enough to silence.
The once-proud daimyo crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
A fallen tyrant.
The last spark of his ambition... snuffed out like a candle in the snow.
All his loyalists were rounded up—Nadare, Mizore, Fubuki. Defeated, tied, shackled.
There were no cheers. Just silence. Respectful. Reverent. A silence that spoke of change.
But nature wasn't done being cruel—there was still no way forward. The road ahead was destroyed.
So they turned back.
The long road home would be bitter and cold. But it would lead to something far warmer.
To daimyo's residence.
To justice.
To hope.
As their journey neared its end, the long caravan of carts wound through the snowy paths. Koyuki, after a moment of hesitation, stepped down from the lead cart and climbed into Naruto's.
She quietly sat beside him.
Karin glanced over but said nothing—just gave a sly little smirk and went back to her book, silently approving.
Koyuki had learned much during the trip. Naruto—this brave, kind, maddeningly handsome young man—already had four lovers, and more waiting in the wings. It wasn't scandalous; not in royalty. Harems were common, after all. Her own father had broken the norm by marrying only her mother.
But Naruto wasn't her father. He was different—larger somehow, like a flame burning too brightly for just one heart alone. His strength, his compassion, his wild, unyielding will… it drew people in like moths to a fire.
Koyuki had made up her mind.
She didn't know yet how he truly felt about her. But when this was all over—when peace had settled and the snow no longer howled with war—she would confess. No matter the answer, her heart needed to be heard.
Yes. She would.
As they crested a ridge, the residence of Yukigakure's ruling estate came into view.
Massive. Regal. Yet silent as a tomb.
It was nestled within a ring of towering mountains, each peak heavy with snow. The ground beneath the estate shimmered faintly with a glacier-stone foundation, laced with glowing blue crystal veins—reflecting the sunlight like shattered snowflakes frozen in time.
Defensive chakra generators formed a dome-like perimeter, still active, casting warmth across the inner grounds—but it felt hollow. The roofs, once vibrant and colorful, were now buried beneath layers of permafrost, pagoda-like in their tiered architecture.
A massive banner swayed in the wind above the central hall—but it wasn't the Kazahana crest.
It was a different clan's emblem. Likely Doto's allies. A parasite trying to wear royal skin.
Koyuki's breath hitched as she looked up.
"When I lived here as a child… it felt like a warm place, a tiny fire in the heart of the cold," she whispered. "Now it looks like a ghost palace."
Sandayu, riding nearby, nodded solemnly. "Yes. They didn't just seize power. They strangled this place."
"They even changed the flag," Sandayu muttered bitterly, eyes fixed on the unfamiliar crest flapping in the mountain wind.
Koyuki's voice was quiet but firm. "Let's go inside. We need to rest… and reclaim what's ours."
The group approached the main gate, snow crunching beneath their boots. But before they could step in, two heavily armed guards crossed their weapons, blocking the path.
"Halt," one barked. "Only the Daimyō and his direct entourage may enter."
Koyuki stepped forward, about to argue—but Naruto beat her to it.
"You mean him?" he said casually, grabbing Doto by the collar and dragging his unconscious body forward like a sack of potatoes.
He let Doto slump unceremoniously at the guards' feet.
The guards staggered back, stunned. One nearly dropped his weapon.
Then—WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEOOO—an alarm blared through the mountain air. Red lights flared from the chakra towers. Within seconds, shinobi in dark winter gear surrounded them, forming a circle with kunai drawn and chakra buzzing.
Naruto rolled his eyes. "Of course. A warm welcome committee."
Sasuke stepped forward, Sharingan already glowing. "We doing this?"
Kakashi lifted his headband. "Let's try diplomacy. And if that fails…"
Karin cracked her knuckles. "We break stuff."
Koyuki looked at Naruto—no panic in her eyes, just determination.
"This palace isn't theirs anymore," she said.
Naruto nodded. "Then let's take it back."