Miria's words hung in the mist-laden air, a fragile human declaration against the immense, ancient power of the Three-Tails. For a moment, nothing happened. The massive, reptilian eye, the size of a small boulder, merely blinked, its emerald iris like a swirling galaxy. The water around her islet continued to churn with inexplicable vigor, creating small, violent whirlpools that threatened to drag her tiny perch under.
Then, a low, guttural rumble emanated from deep within the colossal creature. It wasn't a roar of rage, but a sound of profound incomprehension. The water around Miria's islet surged suddenly, not in a direct attack, but as if the sheer force of Isobu's internal stirring had manifested outwardly. A wave, taller than she was, crashed over the islet, drenching her instantly, nearly sweeping her away. She clung desperately to a jagged rock, her knuckles white. Her [Threat Assessment] screamed DANGER!, flashing red, but Miria ignored it. This wasn't malice, not yet. It was confusion.
"I know you've been sealed before!" Miria shouted, her voice hoarse against the wind and the sloshing water. She knew the Three-Tails had a unique history, passing through multiple hosts and even existing unsealed for periods. "I know of the Akatsuki! They are coming for you!"
Isobu's single eye narrowed slightly, the colossal head tilting with what seemed like faint interest. Another low rumble, deeper this time, vibrated through the water, making Miria's teeth ache. The beast didn't respond with words, but the subtle shift in its posture indicated she had, perhaps, piqued its curiosity. Or its irritation.
"My name is Miria," she continued, pushing through the fear that threatened to paralyze her. "I am not a ninja. I have no chakra. I cannot fight you, nor do I want to seal you against your will!" Her words were laced with an honesty born of desperation. "But I know the future! I know what will happen to you! The Akatsuki will capture you, and they will extract you from your next host, killing them!"
She paused, taking a ragged breath. This was her gamble. Her only currency was knowledge. "I can help you avoid that fate! I can show you how to truly escape them, how to hide better than they can ever find. But I need your power to do it. Not to control you, but to survive! To protect us!"
Isobu's massive form began to sink slowly back into the depths, its green eye still fixed on her. The churning water around the islet intensified, creating a vortex that threatened to pull her under. Was it retreating? Dismissing her? Or contemplating her impossible offer? Her [Threat Assessment] still blared, warning of the sheer, raw, uncontained power that could crush her without conscious effort.
Then, just as the last glimpse of its eye vanished beneath the inky surface, a ripple of something akin to thought, a fleeting echo of ancient weariness and profound skepticism, brushed against Miria's mind. It wasn't a voice, but an impression, vast and heavy as the lake itself: A human... without chakra... claims knowledge of destiny... and offers freedom? What could you possibly give me, worm?
The impression vanished, leaving only the endless, restless sloshing of the water. Miria, soaked to the bone, shivering, and clinging precariously to her rock, knew one thing for certain: she hadn't been immediately crushed. It hadn't outright rejected her. She had, against all odds, gotten its attention. The impossible conversation had begun.
The last vestige of Isobu's presence rippled away, leaving Miria shivering, soaked to the bone, and clinging precariously to the slick rock. The sheer audacity of her plan had somehow worked; she hadn't been obliterated. But the ancient Bijuu's mental impression, What could you possibly give me, worm?, hung heavy in the air, a challenge disguised as dismissal.
Miria wasn't leaving. Not yet. Her body screamed in protest – the cold biting into her skin, her muscles aching from the desperate exertion of holding on. But her mind, sharp and utterly pragmatic, ignored the discomfort. This was her one chance.
"You want to know what I can give you?" Miria shouted, her voice raw but resolute, echoing across the vast, dark water. "I can give you names! I can give you methods! I can give you a chance to avoid your inevitable capture by those who seek to use you!"
She knew she had to be specific. Generic warnings wouldn't work on an ancient, cynical beast. Her [Observer's Log] rapidly accessed the relevant files, highlighting the most impactful, personal details of Isobu's future.
"Their names are Deidara and Tobi!" Miria roared, projecting her voice with all the force her lungs could muster. "Deidara uses explosive clay, molding it into flying creatures and bombs! He'll fly over this lake, searching! Tobi uses a terrifying eye technique, a vortex that sucks anything into another dimension – even you, if he can tag you!"
As she spoke the names, the lake's surface, which had momentarily calmed, began to churn with renewed, violent intensity. The very air around her islet grew thick with a palpable tension, a pressure that squeezed her lungs. This wasn't mere confusion; this was the stirrings of anger and alarm. Isobu's chakra, though still unseen by her, felt like a titanic force roiling just beneath the surface. Water began to erupt in colossal geysers around the center of the lake, spraying high into the murky sky, then crashing back down with the force of cannon fire.
Warning! Extreme Danger! User is in direct proximity to agitated Bijuu! Her [Threat Assessment] blared relentlessly, its internal warnings flashing red behind her eyes, but Miria pushed through the fear. This was the reaction she needed. She had hit a nerve. She had revealed knowledge that a mere human, without direct Akatsuki contact or sensory abilities, could not possibly possess.
"They won't just capture you, Isobu!" she pressed on, clinging desperately to the rock as the waves threatened to wash her away. "They'll seal you again! And after that, you'll be extracted from a future Jinchuriki, leaving them dead!" She paused, letting the implication hang in the air, recalling the Bijuu's known weariness of repeated sealing. "I know how their techniques work! I know how they hunt! I can tell you how to evade them, how to disappear when they come, how to become truly free!"
The chaos on the lake reached a crescendo, the water roaring like a furious beast. Miria braced for the final, annihilating blow, for Isobu to simply disregard her and lash out. But the immense chakra presence, though violently agitated, didn't seem to target her directly. It was raw, undirected fury, an ancient creature's wrath against its tormentors, now named and identified.
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the agitation subsided. The geysers lessened, the waves softened to massive swells. And from deep within the inky depths, a thought, clearer and far more chilling than before, resonated in Miria's mind.
You speak of chains... and of freedom. You speak of the masked one, and the foolish bomber. Impossible. How? What is your game, little human?
The skepticism was still there, but now it was laced with genuine, palpable curiosity. Miria had managed to break through.
The mental impression from Isobu was a vast, ancient question: How? What is your game, little human? It was skepticism, yes, but tinged with a raw, undeniable curiosity. Miria knew this was her pivotal moment. She had to offer more than just a warning; she had to offer the unbelievable truth in a way that resonated with a being of chakra, despite her own lack of it.
"My game?" Miria rasped, her voice raw from the cold and the effort of shouting over the restless water. She pushed herself up fully, ignoring the shivers racking her body. "My game is survival! And the 'how' is simple, Isobu: I speak the truth."
She held nothing back. "I am from a different world," she began, her words flowing with an urgent conviction that transcended their impossible nature. "A world where your story, the story of this world, was just that – a story. I know the names, the dates, the jutsu, the hidden plans. I know of the masked man's true identity, his ultimate goal. I know the fate of every Tailed Beast, every war, every major battle."
She paused, letting the sheer weight of her claim settle. The water around her islet was now calmer, the massive eye of Isobu once again fixed upon her, its green depth unnervingly still. It was listening.
"You exist here, in this reality, a prisoner of a cycle you cannot break," Miria continued, her voice gaining strength, tapping into the weariness she had sensed from the Bijuu earlier. "You've been sealed, unsealed, used, hunted. Always by chakra-wielders. But I am different. I cannot touch chakra, but I can see the threads of fate that bind you. I can tell you where to hide, what specific locations Akatsuki will search, what weaknesses their sealing methods have that even they don't realize from your perspective."
She took a desperate breath, preparing for the true gambit. "I offer you a genuine chance at freedom. Not just temporary escape, but true, long-term evasion. In return... I need your power. Not to control you, not to be a host in the traditional sense, but as a symbiosis. A partnership. Allow me to contain your vast energy, to become your Jinchuriki, but on my terms. I swear to you, by the memories of a world beyond your comprehension, I will never try to dominate you. I will use your power only for our mutual survival, to navigate this war, and to eventually, truly, secure your liberty. No more sealing. No more hunters. Just a long, quiet existence, far from the machinations of ninja."
The silence that followed Miria's audacious proposal was more deafening than any roar. The vast, placid surface of the lake seemed to hold its breath, reflecting the murky sky like a giant, unblinking eye. Isobu's single, immense emerald eye remained fixed on her, unblinking, unreadable, for what felt like an eternity.
Then, without warning, the stillness shattered. Not with a physical attack, but with a sudden, overwhelming surge of raw chakra. It emanated from Isobu, not as a directed assault, but as a pure, uncontained outpouring of its primordial power, an unconscious test. For Miria, who had no chakra to withstand or process it, it was a terrifying, incomprehensible wave.
The air around her islet became impossibly dense, pressing in from all sides. It felt as if an invisible, titanic hand had just crushed the world, leaving no room to breathe. Her vision blurred at the edges, a dizzying grey encroaching on her sight. Every nerve ending in her body screamed, not with pain from a physical blow, but from the sheer, raw pressure of something beyond her comprehension. Her [Threat Assessment] module went absolutely haywire, a cacophony of red alarms and screaming warnings that threatened to shatter her composure: CRITICAL DANGER! UNCONTAINED CHAKRA OVERLOAD! IMMEDIATE OBLITERATION IMMINENT!
Miria gasped, a ragged, futile attempt to draw air into lungs that felt compressed to nothingness. Her body trembled violently, threatening to give out beneath her. Her muscles spasmed, and a wave of nausea rolled through her, yet she forced her emerald eyes to remain open, locked on Isobu's. She would not break. She would not show fear. This was the only way. Her internal monologue was a desperate, silent scream: I know you. I know this. You are testing me. I will not yield.
The pressure lasted for what seemed like an eternity, a direct assault on her very being by a force that did not even recognize her as a threat, merely a variable. Her nose began to bleed, a thin trickle of crimson running down her chin. Her ears rang with a high-pitched whine. She felt as if her very atoms were being pulled apart, stretched thin by an invisible, cosmic hand.
Then, as suddenly as it began, the immense pressure receded. The air returned to normal density, her vision cleared, and the agonizing internal vibrations lessened to a dull thrum. Miria collapsed onto the rock, gasping, coughing, her body trembling uncontrollably. She was drenched in sweat and cold lake water, utterly spent.
Isobu's colossal head, which had seemed to loom over her like a mountain, began its slow, deliberate descent back into the dark water. Its single, ancient eye remained on her for another long moment, no longer unreadable, but now filled with a profound, almost weary intrigue. The skepticism hadn't vanished entirely, but it had gained a new layer: respect for her sheer, impossible resilience.
As the Bijuu sank beneath the surface, leaving only subtle ripples on the inky water, a final, clear mental impression brushed Miria's mind – not a question this time, but a statement, heavy with ancient power and an even deeper, more complex skepticism.
You survived. Many have not. You speak of truths that resonate within ancient memory, yet you are... nothing. Prove your claim, human. Show me the proof of this 'future' you speak of.
The message was a gauntlet thrown. Miria had gained a precarious foothold, but the next step would demand not just her mental fortitude, but a tangible demonstration of her impossible knowledge.