The cave pulsed with the rhythm of firelight, shadows stretching and curling like restless spirits. Within, two battered bodies clung to life. Kaito sat slouched against the stone, his chest still wrapped in crude bandages woven from strips of his cloak. The faint scent of crushed herbs lingered in the air—poultices he had made by grinding roots and leaves with shaking hands. His breathing was heavier than it should have been, a constant reminder of the cracked ribs that had yet to knit. His head, though, was the true battlefield. Ever since the night he had forced open the Eye of Reality: Door of Blood, his skull carried the phantom sensation of fire. When he closed his eyes, he still saw red lines across the darkness, veins of light that pulsed and twisted like molten lava.
Beside him, wrapped in his cloak, Soka lay asleep on a bed of dried leaves. Her body was no longer blistered with burns, but angry patches of raw skin stretched across her arms and shoulders, the painful legacy of fire jutsu clashing against her flesh. Her hair, once vibrant, was singed unevenly. Each shallow breath she took was a victory. Days ago, she had been nothing more than a silent, fever-ridden shell. Now, slowly, the color was returning to her face.
Kaito had dragged her here himself, his arms shaking under her weight. He had stumbled through forests with his lungs burning, forced to absorb fragments of natural energy just to keep from collapsing. More than once, his knees had buckled, his vision narrowing to a tunnel of light, yet each time he had risen again. Not for himself—but for her. In the depths of his exhaustion, his hands had still reached for herbs, still broken branches for firewood, still dressed her wounds. When hunger gnawed at his stomach, he hunted with traps and desperation. When thirst gripped them, he dug into the damp earth to draw muddy water, boiling it over the fire.
Recovery was no miracle. It was agony stretched over days. Bones grinding as they set themselves. Muscles screaming as they stitched back together. Nights filled with fever sweats and shallow breathing. But the Uzumaki blood, ancient and fierce, refused to surrender. Slowly, painfully, they endured.
On the fourth night, Soka stirred from her coma. Her cracked lips parted, whispering something too soft to hear. Kaito leaned closer, his eyes burning red with sleeplessness, and caught only fragments. A name. His name. His hand brushed hers, and for the first time since the battle, a spark of warmth broke through the ice around his heart.
Beyond the cave, however, the world had already begun to quake.
In small villages far from the great capitals, the name of the "Demon Children" spread like wildfire. Farmers paused in their fields, leaning on their hoes, listening wide-eyed as travelers spoke of red-haired devils who had struck Konoha itself. In crowded taverns, merchants whispered of bounties so large they sounded like lies.
"Fifty million ryō," one man muttered, his hands shaking as he lifted his sake cup. "For each head."
"That much?" another replied, pale as chalk. "That's enough to buy an entire province!"
Some laughed nervously, imagining themselves rich beyond dreams, blades in hand. But the laughter was hollow. For each man who smirked, another stared into the fire with haunted eyes, remembering the stories—how entire squads had vanished in a storm of chains and chakra, how even the Hokage himself had fallen. Mothers pulled their children closer when the name Uzumaki was spoken. To the common folk, the Demon Children were no longer human. They were curses made flesh.
In the hidden villages, the whispers became storms.
Kumogakure, Lightning's Fortress.The Third Raikage sat upon his throne of stone, arms folded like iron bars across his chest. His eyes were sharp as lightning bolts, his presence filling the chamber like thunder. Before him, messengers knelt, their voices trembling as they reported the chaos in Konoha.
"So." The Raikage's voice rumbled like a mountain splitting. "The children survived."
His advisors shifted uneasily.
"They not only survived," one said, bowing low, "but struck down Sarutobi Hiruzen himself. Konoha bleeds. Their people call them demons."
The Raikage's scowl deepened, but not in fear. A strange respect glinted in his gaze. "Two children… strong enough to make the world tremble." His hand clenched into a fist the size of a boulder. "If they live long enough to grow… they may rival the legends."
He said nothing of fear. Only of challenge.
Konohagakure, the Village Hidden in the Leaves.Within the Hokage's office, now draped in the colors of a new reign, Sakumo Hatake stood before his council. His white cloak caught the light, its flame-edged hem brushing against the floor. His face was calm, but his eyes were sharp, burdened by a storm of duty.
"Their bounty," he said, voice steady, "was not placed by us alone. The great nations conspired together. That alone should tell you how dangerous they are considered."
His advisors murmured. Some spoke of hunting them down immediately, of sending squads of ANBU into the forests. Others argued that to pursue them now, while still healing, might invite disaster if the children had already recovered.
Sakumo raised a hand, silencing them. "Do not underestimate them. Hiruzen himself fell because he did not measure the cost of facing them. If these children resurface, it will not be desperation that drives us—but preparation."
His words carried neither hatred nor pity. Only calculation. For Sakumo knew the weight of war.
Iwagakure, the Stone Stronghold.Onoki, the Third Tsuchikage, hunched small but sharp-eyed, floated above his council table with arms crossed. His back ached with age, but his voice was as cutting as ever.
"Hmph. Demon children, they say? Nothing but brats. Dangerous brats, yes, but still brats." He spat to the side. "I have fought Madara Uchiha. I have seen Hashirama Senju with my own eyes. Compared to them, these two are firecrackers."
Yet, even as he spoke, his advisors saw the flicker of unease in his eyes. Onoki knew better than to underestimate Uzumaki blood. He knew how chaos could grow into legend.
"Still," he muttered, floating lower, his tone softening. "If they live, they may become more than firecrackers. And firecrackers, when placed well, can still topple mountains."
Kirigakure, the Village Hidden in Mist.The Third Mizukage stood at the edge of the dark waters, his reflection rippling below. His eyes were cold as the ocean's depths, his expression unreadable. Reports in his hand detailed the battle: the chains of crimson chakra, the storm of slaughter, the Hokage's death.
"Demon children…" he whispered. His lips curled into something between amusement and disdain. "If the world wishes to brand them demons, so be it. We of the Mist know what it means to live as monsters."
He let the scroll slip into the water, watching as ink bled into the waves. His village thrived in blood and fear. To him, the children were not an abomination, but a reminder.
Sunagakure, the Desert's Heart.In the dry chambers of Suna, the young Fourth Kazekage, Rasa, clenched his fists as golden sand coiled restlessly around him. His eyes glowed with suspicion and ambition alike.
"Two Uzumaki children who humiliated Konoha…" His voice was a low hiss. "If they are left unchecked, their influence could spread like wildfire. The people whisper their names already."
His advisors nodded nervously.
"Then we must prepare," Rasa continued. "If they ever come to the desert, they will find it waiting to swallow them whole."
But in the silence that followed, even Rasa could not silence the unease curling in his gut. For in the stories of shinobi, monsters often grew faster than the world could contain them.
Back in the cave, Kaito handed Soka a piece of roasted meat. Her hands trembled as she accepted it, but she managed a faint smile. Firelight danced in her tired eyes, painting her scars in gold.
The world outside was already calling them demons, legends, curses. But here, in the stillness of smoke and stone, they were only two children learning how to breathe again.
And yet, both could feel it. Beyond the cave walls, the world trembled in anticipation.
Because demons were not born. They were made.
And Kaito and Soka were still becoming.
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I saw that most of the votes were for Kaito to be a villain and to explore the world or form his organization, so I'll do that. I'll see if he will form his organization or not depending on your votes.
If you review or give a Power Stone, I'll give you an extra chapter.
A Power Stone: an extra chapter.
A positive review: an extra chapter.
This would help me a lot and would also attract more people, so I'd make more chapters per day.