Naruto surfaced from meditation coated in a cold sweat.
The phantom roar of the Nine-Tails still hung in the silence of the sanctuary. The image of that gigantic muzzle behind the bars had become part of his reality. Just like the sensation of cool, ordered power flowing through his veins.
The boy rose on legs numb from sitting. First order of business: the evidence.
Instinct, honed by years of playing hide-and-seek for his life, whispered a warning: never leave clues.
Naruto grabbed the old rags he had used to wipe off the black sludge after his purification. They reeked. If someone—like the Inuzuka dogs—caught this scent, there would be problems.
He crumpled the fabric, shoved it into a deep fissure in the far corner, and buried it under loose debris and rock.
"Clean."
He sat back down. He needed to stabilize his progress.
Naruto closed his eyes, summoning the schematics from memory. There was almost no pain now. The channels were cleared. Qi no longer forced its way through; it flowed like a stream following an ancient riverbed.
Qi Concentration.
It was a strange feeling—as if someone had flipped a switch in his head. His thoughts, which usually darted around like frightened squirrels, aligned into a straight, steady line.
Boring...
The lazy, vibrating voice resonated in his skull.
Naruto didn't flinch. He had expected this.
You sit like a stone, jailer. Where is the malice? Where is the desire to break this world? Your calm is unnatural. It's annoying.
Screaming attracts attention, the boy replied mentally. When I scream, I get beaten. When I'm silent, I'm safe.
Safety is for prey, the demon scoffed. A predator needs power. Do you think your 'little white water' will protect you when the real killers come? It will evaporate at the first flash of Rage.
Naruto didn't argue. He used the Fox's voice as a focal point. Instead of getting angry, he wrapped his concentration around the sound, isolating it.
The presence fell silent, sensing the failure of his provocation.
…
A week passed.
Naruto spent almost the entire time in the Sanctuary. Physically, he hadn't become stronger—his body remained that of a malnourished child. But his Stamina was growing. He could run longer. He could go without sleep for a whole night.
And he began to see.
The symbols on the walls. Before, they were just scribbles. Now, with Qi Concentration, he could taste them. Some felt "hard," like a wall. Others felt "sharp," like a knife.
Staring at the walls? The Fox seemed to be always watching.
Memorizing, Naruto replied, tracing a finger over a vibrating glyph.
The language of Uzumaki. Your ancestors. Squiggles like these keep me in here. Want to tighten the collar?
I want to make sure I'm not found.
…
At dawn, he left the dungeon and headed home.
The apartment was in a dormitory for the disadvantaged. Usually, he would run in, throw his jacket in the corner, and collapse onto the bed.
Today was different.
Naruto opened the door and froze. The smell hit him like a physical blow.
Sour milk. Old garbage. Mold. Dust.
Before, he had lived in this without noticing. Now, after a week of purification and heightened senses, the stench was physically unbearable. It choked his breathing and disrupted the flow of Qi.
You live in a dump, brat. Your 'purity' won't last long here.
Naruto grimaced.
"It hinders."
It wasn't a desire for comfort—it was a physiological necessity. Chaos created "noise" in his head.
He began to clean.
His movements were economical and fast. Qi Concentration prevented him from getting distracted by toys or old magazines. Trash went into bags. Dishes went into the sink. The floor was scrubbed until it creaked. He shoveled out mountains of junk. The room suddenly seemed spacious. The air became breathable.
Naruto approached the pile of clothes.
On top lay his favorite orange jumpsuit. Bright. Loud.
Picking it up, he hesitated. Before, this color had seemed cool. It screamed, Look at me! I exist!
Now, Naruto saw it differently.
A target.
Visible from a kilometer away in the forest. Glowing in the dark. In a crowd, it drew the eye of every drunkard.
He tossed the jacket aside.
Rummaging through the closet filled with welfare handouts, he found a simple grey t-shirt—a few sizes too big—and dark, baggy pants. The fabric was rough, but the colors merged with the shadows.
After dressing, he approached the cloudy mirror.
A skinny boy with disheveled hair looked back from the glass. But the eyes... Before, resentment had splashed within them. Now, they were clear, calm, and observant.
Decided to play hide-and-seek? The Fox sounded disappointed. You are betraying your nature! You should be a wildfire, burning everything in your path!
Naruto adjusted his collar.
Fires get extinguished. But the one who isn't seen... cannot be hit.
The Fox snorted, but fell silent.
Naruto stepped out into the street. For the first time in six years, he didn't feel like a victim.
He felt like a hunter lying in ambush.