Chapter Text
"...The Leaf has certainly grown soft. Had he still been alive, things would never have come to this."
The man’s face twisted in a look of profound distaste, his words a silent indictment of the Second Hokage’s incompetence.
Duy took the man's words in silence. It infuriated him to hear his beloved Hokage mocked, yet he knew that offering a rebuttal to this monster was impossible. He focused entirely on suppressing the tremors racking his body. It was a desperate show of bravado—the only thing Duy could manage as he teetered on the brink of total collapse.
"As a shinobi of the Leaf, surely you know the name Hashirama Senju? ...What is the matter? Are you so terrified you’ve lost your voice?"
The man looked down at Duy, his voice melodic as he uttered the name of the First Hokage, who had passed away a decade ago.
Of course Duy knew. In the Leaf—or anywhere in the shinobi world, for that matter—there wasn't a soul who didn't. Hashirama Senju was the God of Shinobi, a man so legendary that even his former enemies mourned his sudden passing. His name was more than a title; it was a fundamental truth of their world. Yet, the way this man spoke suggested something deeper than common knowledge. It was a declaration of absolute intimacy, a prideful claim that he was the one who knew Hashirama most profoundly.
"Fine. I haven't the time for idle chatter. I will ask you one thing, boy: have you seen anyone here... possessing the Sharingan?"
Duy felt a fleeting surge of relief that the man wasn't specifically looking for Tatami. But his mind immediately began to race.
The Sharingan—the kekkei genkai of the Uchiha clan and one of the Three Great Eye Jutsus. Since Tatami’s sensei and teammate were both Uchiha, Duy had seen the eyes from a distance on several occasions.
He connected the dots. The appearance of the Wood Dragon, and now this man hunting for the Sharingan... it could only mean a heinous plot to steal the eyes from Akari or Kagami.
This man was a demon from the era of the First Hokage, an evil spirit who had once tried to annihilate the village. If left unchecked, he would surely become a darkness that would consume the Leaf. Was he seeking the Sharingan to bolster his own power?
(Tatami must have sensed this man's presence and tried to stop him. These ruins... this is the aftermath of their battle! But this man stands here unbothered, still hunting... Does that mean... Tatami...)
Duy’s logic was flawed by misunderstanding, yet he had pierced through to the core of the situation. The fear of his friend's death shook him to his soul.
In the past, every shinobi in the Leaf had branded Duy a failure, mocking his "useless" efforts. A man who couldn't use Ninjutsu was seen as a liability, and he lacked any natural spark of genius in Taijutsu. The insults and the laughter were based on a truth he couldn't deny. But amidst that ridicule, Tatami had looked past Duy’s lack of talent. He recognized Duy’s noble spirit and called him a friend. For Duy, who had been struggling in a world of endless darkness, that friendship was the light he followed.
During the final round of the Chunin Exams, Tatami had sacrificed himself to protect his comrades and lead them to victory. It was a heroic feat. But back then, Duy had wondered: If Tatami protects everyone, who will protect him? In that moment, Duy's path was set.
He silently clenched his calloused, scarred fists. These hands were the proof of thousands of hours spent punching straw posts—a record of the youth he had spent running alongside his friend.
"Silent, are you? Well, it makes no difference. One way or another, you will talk."
The man noticed the change in Duy’s stance and arched an eyebrow. His eyes bled into a deep crimson, three tomoe swirling into place. He intended to use Genjutsu to break Duy’s will.
Duy didn't answer. He closed his eyes and turned his consciousness inward. The breathing that had been ragged with terror suddenly grew rhythmic and calm. The cold sweat evaporated. He looked deep within, finding the "Youth" that slept inside his soul. And then—
"What is this...?" the man muttered, his voice tinged with genuine surprise.
Duy’s chakra didn't just flow; it erupted.
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One: Veins bulged violently at Duy's temples.
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Two: The muscles in his arms and legs swelled with explosive power.
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Three: The rampaging chakra dyed his skin a deep, bruising red.
He was prying open the Eight Gates. This technique was the ultimate secret of the Leaf’s Taijutsu—a forbidden art that sacrificed the body to draw out 100% of its latent potential. Since Tatami had taught him the basics, Duy had spent years refining this power alongside his own personal "Rules" for the day it would truly be needed.
(The back of the man I swore to stand beside... has vanished into a permanent illusion.)
Duy’s heart screamed.
He felt a madness of grief, a searing rage, and a hatred that made his bones rattle. But that wasn't all. The terror of the man before him still flickered in his gut; the despair still scorched his chest. But those things didn't matter.
It wasn't a dark will that drove Duy now. He wasn't fueled by backward-looking emotions. He was driven by a powerful resolve to stop the unprecedented crisis approaching the Leaf. He was driven by the pulse of a mission—to survive long enough to tell the Second Hokage that this monster was back. It was the cry of a noble soul that had transcended fear for the sake of his comrades. It was...
"Gate of Pain... OPEN!"
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Four: The color drained from Duy's eyes, leaving them pure white. Yet his heart radiated the brilliant light of youth.
Despite the years of insults and the mocking laughter, Duy’s spirit remained untainted. His heart had always been one with the Will of Fire.
A sonic boom. A gale tore through the clearing, and Duy vanished.
The man watched with a mix of curiosity and shock. "A sudden physical transformation and a torrent of chakra that feels like a meltdown... So this is the legendary Eight Inner Gates? Interesting—"
Before he could finish, a violent impact shattered his jaw. His head snapped back, his body launched into the air.
Duy, who had been crouching at the man's feet, retracted his kicking leg and immediately pushed off the ground with both hands.
Kick. Kick. Kick. Duy used his arms as an axis to flip through the air, following the man’s trajectory and delivering a relentless barrage of kicks to drive him higher. After the fourth strike, Duy vanished again, reappearing directly behind the man as he tumbled through the sky.
"The Shadow of the Dancing Leaf? You're quite skilled for someone without a Sharingan." Even as he fell, the man merely shifted his eyes toward the space behind him.
Duy remained silent. He unraveled the bandages wrapped around his arms. In an instant, the cloth acted like a living thing, binding the man’s torso and pinning his arms to his sides. Duy threw his arms around the man, locking him in a deathly embrace. He began to spin at a terrifying speed, diving head-first toward the earth.
"PRIMARY LOTUS!"
The man slammed into the ground with the force of a falling star.
"I did it! Now, to—"
"Don't be in such a hurry."
As soon as the impact settled, Duy tried to break away and head toward the Leaf. But the man was already standing in his path. Duy’s eyes widened. He hadn't expected the man to be dead, but he didn't think he'd be unable to buy even a few seconds. The man’s mocking smile remained unchanged. Duy bit his lip and tried to dash past him—
"I told you to wait."
Again, the man intercepted him with impossible speed.
"Impossible... How can he be this fast...?"
Duy’s full power was nothing more than a game to this man. Every strike must have been parried or diverted at the moment of impact to nullify the damage. The gap in raw power and technique was a chasm Duy couldn't cross. Despair began to seep back into his heart.
But Duy tightened his fists and settled into a stance. He couldn't give up. He lunged with a punch aimed at the man’s face while simultaneously throwing a kick at his midsection. He pivoted on his lead foot, his body spinning like a leaf caught in a hurricane.
"LEAF WHIRLWIND!"
A flurry of kicks delivered at the maximum speed the Gates allowed.
"The Eight Inner Gates... is this really the extent of it?"
The man's ocular prowess saw through everything. He tracked the microscopic movements of Duy's muscles, predicting every strike. He didn't even bother to block; he simply shifted his body by centimeters, letting Duy's attacks whistle past him.
"Open the Gate of Death, boy. I’ll wait."
The man shook his head in boredom, taunting Duy with the name of the final, ultimate taboo. The Gate of Death was the zenith of the Eight Gates, offering power beyond a Hokage at the cost of certain death. But it wasn't a realm one could reach just by wanting to die. It was a divine territory that only those who had spent decades of effort to master the seventh gate could hope to touch. Duy wasn't there yet.
Duy said nothing, but he forced open the Fifth Gate: The Gate of Limit. This was the absolute peak of what he could achieve.
"LEAF GREAT STRONGER WHIRLWIND!"
"Oops..."
That was it. That was all the man said. Duy had set a trap, getting the man used to the speed of the Fourth Gate only to unleash the Fifth for a sudden, hyper-accelerated killing blow. And the man had dodged it with a single word.
"AAAAAHHHHH!"
Duy roared, his fists and feet becoming a blur. But every desperate strike hit nothing but air. The crushing weight of his own powerlessness forced a scream from his throat.
"You won't open it? How disappointing. You're just a brat after all... In the end, only Hashirama is a worthy opponent for me."
"Ghk—!"
The man found an opening in Duy's desperate flurry and caught him by the throat. Duy’s momentum died instantly as he was lifted into the air.
"Now... tell me what I want to know."
The man drew a kunai, bringing the jagged tip toward Duy’s eye.
"You can close your eyes if you like, but I’ll just cut the lids off. It would be better for you to just speak."
Duy struggled in silence as the blade drew closer.
"ROOOOOAAAAARRRR!"
Suddenly, a draconic roar split the heavens. The massive Wood Dragon that had been lying dormant after consuming Kakuzu reared its head. With a face of pure fury, the Great Dragon turned its wrath upon the enemy threatening its master's friend.
"A Wood Dragon...? There is only one person left who can use Wood Style. Could it be...?"
The man wasn't afraid. Instead, he looked at the dragon with a haunting nostalgia, seeing the shadow of his old friend. His expression was a complex map of joy, expectation, and suspicion—but above all, he was thrilled to face a "worthy" foe again.
"HASHIRAMA...!"
He tossed Duy aside like a broken toy.
Duy hit the ground, coughing and clutching his bruised throat. He watched as the man trembled with a terrifying, borderline-manic glee.
The man lunged at the Wood Dragon. The dragon coiled its massive body, surrounding the man as he moved through the air.
"Fire Style: Fireball Jutsu!"
The man wove signs at a speed the eye couldn't follow, breathing out a sea of flames to incinerate the dragon. The thick wood charred, but as the burnt bark fell away, new timber immediately grew to take its place.
The man used the dragon’s own body as a platform, sprinting up its length toward its head.
A massive shockwave followed. The Wood Dragon’s head snapped back from a single kick. The strike carried enough force to stagger a mountain.
"Ah... its ability to absorb chakra is still intact."
The man realized that the moment his foot touched the dragon, his chakra had begun to drain. He solemnized, crossing his arms as he landed back on the earth. He remembered this feeling.
The Wood Dragon charged again, its maw open wide to swallow him whole.
The dragon’s head was severed in a single flash.
"No... this isn't Hashirama’s dragon. I don't know who made this, but it’s a poor imitation."
The man glanced at the dragon’s head as it thudded to the ground. He was now surrounded by a translucent, pale-blue armor of chakra—the Susanoo. A massive blade of energy was leveled at the dragon. The man’s face was clouded with disappointment.
"I can't bring out the Majestic Attire or the Perfected form in this state... but for an 'empty shell,' this will do."
A new head sprouted from the dragon's neck. It roared again, refusing to die.
The man was right; it was an "empty shell." The jutsu had already fulfilled its purpose and was essentially a massive wooden statue. The fact that it was moving at all was a miracle born of the last fragments of Tatami’s chakra and will. It was a testimony to the friendship between Duy and Tatami, fueled by the last drops of the boy's energy. But—
"Ugly..."
The dragon's head was severed again.
To the man, this dragon was an insult. The ultimate technique of the strongest man he ever knew had been reduced to a crumbling counterfeit. He couldn't stand its existence.
The dragon tried to regenerate again, but it was shrinking. It was losing the chakra necessary to maintain its form.
"So ugly..." the man muttered. He sighed, looking genuinely bored.
And in that moment of boredom, he grew careless. The Wood Dragon, carrying Tatami’s last shred of will, didn't miss it.
"What—?"
Grass erupted from beneath the man’s feet, binding his legs. It transformed into a swarm of miniature dragons that began to drain his chakra at a frantic pace.
"Petty tricks. Begone, you ghost of Hashirama—"
It was a petty trick. Against a man with such bottomless chakra, these tiny dragons were like a mosquito's bite. But the drain wasn't the point. Touching him was.
Before he could finish his sentence, the man was yanked sideways. The vines around his ankles grew instantly, ripping him out of the Susanoo’s protection. He tumbled across the dirt, but as he tried to stabilize—an impact hit him.
Then another. And another.
Impact, impact, impact! A relentless, unceasing barrage. His stomach, his face, his back—every inch of his body was hammered. He was being bounced around the sky like a ball hitting invisible walls.
"AAAAAHHHHHH!"
Might Duy roared, ignoring the agony tearing his body apart. A warm tear evaporated into the air before it could hit his cheek. During the dragon's distraction, a tiny wooden serpent had appeared by Duy’s side, offering him a massive infusion of chakra. That warmth had temporarily stabilized his collapsing body. Duy had cried then, knowing his friend was still alive somewhere. He knew the dragon was just a diversion, a way to buy him one chance.
Now was the time. The Lotus of the Leaf blooms twice.
"Feel the beat of my youth! HIDDEN LOTUS!"
Duy’s ultimate attack. A god-speed chain of strikes followed by a final, bone-crushing blow. With a thunderous boom, the man was hammered into the earth.
"Wait for me, Tatami!"
Duy landed and immediately sprinted toward the location he had sensed when he touched the dragon. He had to get his friend and get out. It was a suicide mission, but he had to—
"That... actually surprised me. I suppose 'one eye' is a fair handicap for a 'brat'... but that’s enough."
A silhouette shifted in the dust.
"Even that didn't work?! Damn it, faster—!"
"I'm bored now. Let's end this."
The man began to walk, then run, his speed increasing until he was a blur of lethal intent.
"ROOOOAAARRR!"
The Wood Dragon roared again, trying to shield Duy.
"Enough. Begone, you withered snake."
"Fire Style: Majestic Destroyer Flame!"
The dragon was cut down and swallowed by a sea of fire, turning to ash instantly.
"He's too strong..." Duy whispered.
"First you, Eight Gates man," the man said, standing amidst the embers. "And then, I will find that shinobi who wielded Hashirama’s power so pathetically and kill him."
Duy stopped. Those words ignited a new fire in his heart. The threat to his friend gave him the final, true resolve—the courage to step into the territory beyond all limits. He turned back to face the man. The monster stood there without a single scratch on his body.
Duy wasn't being reckless. He wasn't throwing his life away. He was making a choice: if there was even a 1% chance it would save his friend, he would take it. That was his Way of the Ninja.
"I have spent my whole life training for 'the right moment'..."
"What's this? Have you gone mad with fear?" The man walked closer.
Duy clenched his fists so hard his nails drew blood. He glared at the man, his eyes burning with the Will of Fire.
"The time for my resolve is NOW! I will protect the people I love with my life! GATE OF VIEW... OPEN!"
Might Duy, the man everyone called a failure, reached a new height. His body wasn't ready for the Sixth Gate, and his tissues began to tear the moment it opened. He didn't know why he could open it now; he only knew that when he heard the man threaten Tatami, he felt like he could.
A sonic boom rocked the clearing.
The man was hit, but this time, he wasn't blown away.
Impact, impact, impact!
Duy’s fists moved so fast they ignited the air, creating a shockwave of flame. It looked as if he had a thousand arms, but it was just one man moving faster than human perception. This was his "Protection."
"MORNING PEACOCK!"
Hundreds of flaming strikes rained down. At the end of the barrage, Duy collapsed, his body spent. The man was sent flying, crashing through timber and stone until he leveled a distant cliffside.
"I... did it..." Duy’s breathing was shallow. The Sixth Gate was rampaging through his system, causing agony that felt like being shredded alive. But he smiled. He had done his part.
"Hahaha... I almost... almost flickered out there. That was the most fun I've had in a long time, Eight Gates user."
"Still alive... damn it... damn it..."
The man appeared before the fallen Duy.
Duy tried to move, but his body only twitched in a spasm of pain. He was a wreck; it was a miracle he was even conscious. He cursed his own lack of talent. Even with everything, he couldn't be the "protector" his friend needed.
"I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."
Might Duy had lost. Tears of frustration streamed down his face.
"As a reward for that entertainment, tell me your name."
The man drew his blade and held it vertically over Duy’s heart. Duy didn't close his eyes. He glared back, refusing to show fear in his final moments.
"Heh. Good eyes. Farewell then, nameless shinobi."
The man swung his arm down.
CLANG!
The screech of metal on metal echoed, and the man vanished from Duy's sight.
"What...?"
Duy blinked. The man was gone, replaced by another figure standing before him. Duy hadn't sensed him at all. He had appeared without a sound, as if he had simply manifested out of thin air.
"Are you alright? Your name was... Duy, correct?"
"A-Ah... Ah..."
Duy knew that voice. He knew that broad back. Relief washed over him, and he began to cry—this time for a different reason.
"Don't cry. You're a shinobi of the Leaf, aren't you? You did well. I’ll take it from here."
"Yes... Yes, sir!" Duy nodded over and over, his face a mess of tears and dirt.
The man’s silver hair fluttered in the gale.