Far from the village, beneath a sky painted with the bruised colors of twilight, Itachi's eyes shifted faintly red, spinning, and endless. The Mangekyō gleamed like twin eclipses, and they fixed unblinking on Naruto, who stood frozen in the inn doorway, breath caught between fear and confusion. Upstairs, tension coiled like a serpent ready to strike. Downstairs, another door creaked open, its hinges groaning, the sound strangely loud in the thick silence. Meanwhile, outside in the winding alleys of the unfamiliar town, Sasuke was nothing more than a blur of motion. His feet struck the ground in punishing rhythm, sandals slapping stone, breath ragged in his throat. The air tore at his clothes and eyes as he ran, but he didn't feel it. Couldn't. His pulse screamed through his ears louder than the wind, louder than the rush of chakra surging in his limbs. Only one name pulsed through his mind, pounding in his skull with every step like a drum of war. Itachi. Itachi. Itachi. His heart beat so violently it felt like it might burst, and still he ran harder. Narrow alleys blurred past him, wooden storefronts, paper lanterns, shadows of passersby who barely turned their heads before he was gone. He had once idolized his brother... He remembered how Itachi used to rest a hand on his head with quiet pride, fingers warm and certain. The way he'd smile, not often, but just enough to light the space between them. He remembered the hours spent watching his brother train from behind a tree, breath held, heart full. He remembered the stories, the strength, the unshakable presence. That was the Itachi who had shaped him. The world tilted around him, colors blurring to a watercolor wash as his thoughts yanked him backward, deeper into memory than he meant to go. The sound of his own breath faded. In its place came the quiet rustle of wind through pine needles, the soft scuff of sandals on stone, the distant chirp of cicadas, and a younger voice, his own, bright with hope.

"Big brother, will you help me with shuriken training?" He had looked up, clutching dull practice blades in his small fists, eyes wide beneath the heavy fringe of his bangs. Itachi had stood in the doorway, bathed in late-afternoon light, the scarlet glare of his eyes dimmed with fatigue. He had turned just slightly, his face unreadable.

"Not now." Just two words. Dismissive. Empty. Sasuke had watched him walk away, his stomach dropping with a heaviness he couldn't name back then. The shadows stretching across the training yard felt longer somehow. Lonelier. He had wandered to the kitchen, quiet and small. The floor was cool beneath his feet. The rice cooker hissed softly in the corner. His mother stood at the stove humming something light, something old. When she turned, her face was warm with the kind of love that could fold even silence into comfort. She knelt to hand him his bento box, still warm, and gently smoothed a hand over his hair.

"You'll catch up one day," she said, her fingers brushing his cheek with the faintest scent of plum blossom and sesame oil clinging to her skin. He remembered the softness of her sleeve brushing his wrist, the faint steam rising from the box, the quiet hope in her voice.

But then came the night. The one that never left him.

He had come home to the Uchiha Compound late. The silence was wrong, too still. No voices, nor creak of floorboards. No warmth. The compound smelled like something scorched, sharp and metallic. Blood. He had stepped into the courtyard and slipped on something wet. When he looked down, his sandals were coated in red. His cousin lay at the threshold, eyes wide and unseeing. There had been no scream, his voice had caught in his throat. Only a gasp. Then the sound of a body hitting the floor somewhere in the distance. He ran. He remembered each door flung open revealing another still form, the familiarity of their faces now twisted into something eternal. His aunt with her hands frozen mid-reach. His uncle's blade halfway drawn. Children younger than him, sprawled like broken dolls. The copper sting of blood filled the back of his throat, metallic and raw. His hands shook. His knees buckled.

He had found them in the main hall. His father on his knees. His mother beside him. Both still. Pale. His mother's head had tilted just so, her face turned toward the entryway as if waiting for him to come home. Her lips were parted slightly, as if she'd tried to call his name. There was so much blood, it had soaked through the tatami mat, blackening the threads, and then, above it all, stood a single figure. Itachi. Draped in darkness, eyes burning crimson, his silhouette framed by the sliding paper doors split down the middle. The silence between them was louder than any scream. Sasuke had stumbled forward, trembling.

"Why...?" The word fell from his lips like glass breaking.

Itachi's voice had been quiet. Clean. Like cold steel. "To test my strength."

Sasuke remembered the moment his heart cracked, not in grief, but in disbelief. The way it echoed in his ribs like something hollowed out by force.

The tears didn't fall until after Itachi stepped past him, until those final words coiled in the air like a curse. "You're not even worth killing. Grow strong. Live in hatred. Seek me out." He had watched his brother vanish into shadow, the scent of blood and smoke clinging to his clothes like a second skin. That was the moment everything inside him changed. The sun had risen the next day, but the world never felt light again.

Now, in the present, the past collided violently with the moment at hand. The chakra in the room was suffocating, heavy, and undeniably cold. That same chill crawled up Sasuke's spine, the one that had haunted him since childhood, the same pressure that had filled the Uchiha Compound the night his clan died. It gripped his lungs like a vice, but he didn't stop. Couldn't. He tore through the corridor, faster than thought, faster than fear, and slammed through the next door like a thunderclap splitting the world.

"ITACHI!" The name tore from his throat like a blade, raw, broken, and steeped in a decade of pain. The sound echoed off the narrow inn hallway like the toll of a funeral bell. For one suspended second, the air held still. Naruto spun around, eyes wide with shock, lips parting.

"Sasuke-?" But Sasuke didn't see him. Couldn't. Everything else dropped away. The walls, the noise, the color. All he saw was the silhouette draped in that damned cloak, black patterned with drifting red clouds, a ghost conjured from nightmares. And at the center, those eyes. Crimson. Spinning. Watching. The Sharingan. His brother. Kisame blinked, startled, then let out a low whistle, amused.

"Another one? Looks just like you, Itachi. But he's got the eyes too... Wait-" He tilted his head and grinned, teeth like knives. "That your brother?" Itachi's voice was calm, indifferent, almost amused.

"Yes." Kisame barked a short laugh.

"Didn't you kill all of them?" No answer. Just silence. A silence more damning than any reply. But Sasuke didn't wait for permission. He didn't care. His rage had momentum now, an avalanche in his chest. Chakra screamed to life in his palm, raw and wild. Chidori. The electric screech of a thousand birds exploded through the narrow hallway, tearing the air apart with its violent hiss. And Sasuke lunged, the light blinding, his snarl like a wound ripped open. Naruto reached forward instinctively, voice cracking.

"Sasuke, wait-!" But it was too late. Itachi moved like a shadow folding in on itself. There was no blur, no buildup, just a flicker, and in the next instant, Sasuke's wrist was caught mid-strike, fingers trembling from the arrested force of the Chidori. He gasped. Then with terrifying ease, Itachi twisted his arm sideways and slammed him against the wall, plaster shattering from the impact. Sasuke's back arched from the shock of it, eyes blown wide in disbelief. Itachi hadn't even broken a sweat. His face was still, like marble. Empty of struggle. Empty of care.

"I've lived every day hating you!" Sasuke shouted, voice cracking, every word laced with the salt of betrayal. "That's the only reason I've survived! I woke up for this, trained for this, bled for this!" His breath came ragged, his chakra faltering as his brother stared down at him without recognition. "Look at me!" he roared. "I'm your brother!" Naruto surged forward, his chakra boiling under his skin, red and golden. The Nine-Tails stirred inside him, called by his desperation.

"Summoning Jutsu!" he shouted, but the seal flared erratically. Kisame's eyes flashed, and in a heartbeat he was in front of Naruto, swinging Samehada down with a sneer.

"Nice try, kid." The blade hit the wave of chakra and drank it. The red aura vanished in an instant, consumed like dry grass in flame. Naruto stumbled back, breath torn from his lungs, eyes wide in panic as Kisame raised the massive blade again. Then the wall exploded. A thunderous crash shook the building as rubble flew outward in every direction, chunks of shattered stone and wooden beams raining across the corridor. A great toad loomed in the space beyond, red eyes narrowed, its massive tongue whipping forward to intercept the strike midair. The impact sent a tremor through the hallway. Perched atop its back in a flare of motion stood Jiraiya, his white hair streaming like a banner, cloak rippling with the sudden wind, arms crossed over his chest.

"You put a woman under genjutsu and picked on two brats?" Jiraiya's voice rolled low, like distant thunder on the edge of a storm, his arms crossed and his eyes lit with disgust. "You think that's what makes you strong?" The hall sweltered with leftover chakra, dust still drifting from the fractured walls, and the floor cracked beneath their feet like it couldn't bear the weight of the moment. Itachi didn't flinch, didn't react. He turned his head slightly, eyes glowing red in the dim light.

"Jiraiya," he said, cool and flat, the name acknowledged like a formality. Jiraiya's lip curled.

"You always were a twisted one, even back then. But this?" His gaze flicked toward Naruto and Sasuke's crumpled forms. "This is pathetic."

Kisame gave a low chuckle, his grip tightening on Samehada. "Tch. All this posturing. You Sannin always talk like you're above us. You're not." His voice grated like broken coral, but Jiraiya didn't even glance his way. Behind them, Sasuke stirred. His fingers scraped against the floor as he pulled himself upright, blood dripping from his chin, his vision blurry, but his resolve razor-sharp.

"Stay out of this, Naruto," he rasped, teeth clenched, his voice stretched thin between agony and rage. "This is my fight." Naruto started to speak, arm half-raised, but Sasuke pushed himself forward on trembling legs, the thunder in his chest louder than anything around him. "Itachi!" he snarled. "You're not walking away this time!" Chakra surged in his hand, lightning crackling down his arm as the Chidori came to life, savage and wild. He lunged. But he never landed the blow. Itachi moved in silence. One second, the air buzzed with raw chakra, the next, Itachi's palm buried itself in Sasuke's chest with a sickening thud. The Chidori fizzled out on impact. Sasuke's breath hitched, and blood exploded from his mouth. His feet left the floor and he crashed into the far wall with brutal force, bricks crumbling around his shoulders.

"You're still weak," Itachi said, calm and absolute. His Sharingan spun lazily, like he didn't need to try. "You lack... hatred." Sasuke groaned, eyes fluttering, but still conscious.

"I've lived every day... hating you," he said, voice trembling, barely audible through the blood in his throat. "That's the only reason I've survived." Itachi stepped toward him, gaze unreadable.

"Then hate me more." And then his fingers rose. Snap. The genjutsu took hold instantly. Tsukuyomi. The world twisted inward, the walls peeling like old paint as time broke apart. In Sasuke's mind, the compound stood silent and blood-slick again. His father's body on the floor. His mother's hand outstretched, lifeless. Every breath tasted of iron. The floor soaked red. And Itachi, always standing, always waiting, his sword gleaming in the moonlight, his eyes cold as frost. "You're not even worth killing," the illusion whispered, again and again, each word slicing deeper than any kunai.

"No... no... STOP-!" Sasuke screamed, thrashing violently. The genjutsu world repeated itself in endless loop: his cousins dead, his aunts, his uncles, their screams echoing, fading, vanishing. His feet slipped in their blood as he ran, again and again, always arriving too late, always seeing the same massacre. Time unraveled. Reality splintered. A thousand deaths repeated across three days that lasted only a single heartbeat. Outside the illusion, Sasuke's scream ripped through the corridor. Blood streamed from his eyes like tears of fire as he collapsed, twitching, hands clawing at nothing, his body seizing under the weight of psychic torment.

Naruto lunged forward, "Sasuke!" Jiraiya's face darkened further.

"You think that's power?" he snarled at Itachi, stepping forward now, his chakra beginning to swirl like a slow-building maelstrom. "You think tearing apart a kid's mind makes you strong? You've got no damn clue what strength really is." His fingers blurred into a flurry of seals, fast and precise, as if every muscle in his body remembered battle more than peace. "Summoning Jutsu: Toad Mouth Bind!" Reality twisted. The walls of the inn pulsed once, then melted. The wooden floors rippled like water before transforming into wet, glistening tissue. The ceiling curled downward, folding like muscle drawn tight. Every surface turned red and sinewed, the humid air thick with the iron scent of blood and bile. The whole room shuddered as it became the inside of a massive toad's stomach, lined with slick flesh that pulsed and twitched like it breathed. Kisame's sneer faltered as he yanked at Samehada, which was already halfway sunken into the sticky ground.

"What the hell?!" His foot slurped deeper into the floor, the blade gurgling as it was slowly digested.

"The belly of a mountain toad," Jiraiya said grimly, voice echoing in the pulsing chamber. "It's a one-way trip. No doors. No mercy." Naruto's eyes widened in horror, spinning around as the space closed in.

"Sasuke!" he shouted, rushing to the boy's side. But the wall itself began to swell and draw Sasuke into it, gently, like soft mud absorbing a fallen bird. The wall cradled him in a protective curve of flesh, lifting him off the floor and tucking him out of harm's reach before the next assault could begin. His eyes fluttered half-open, unfocused, and Naruto grabbed his hand, holding tight even as the stomach quivered around them. "I've got you, teme," he whispered. "You're not going anywhere." But it wasn't over. Kisame snarled, still struggling, but Itachi didn't move. His crimson eyes flickered, and then... black flames erupted. Amaterasu. The fire didn't hiss. It didn't roar. It devoured in silence. It burned through the stomach lining like judgment, the air turning instantly acrid with the smell of scorched flesh and ozone. The toad's insides shrieked in pulses of soundless vibration, the stomach cavity buckling as the flames carved a hole through space itself. The Amaterasu clung to the walls, insatiable, a hunger born from the gods. Light bent inward. Heat warped the air and in that moment of cataclysm, the two Akatsuki were gone, vanished through the tear they'd created, slipping into the void as easily as a breath disappears into the wind.

Jiraiya's hand slammed down on the wall. "Sealing Jutsu!" he bellowed. A tremor ran through the flesh as the flaming gap twisted shut, sealing behind them like a wound stitched closed. The air fell dead still. Silence followed. Jiraiya released the jutsu, and the room unraveled. Wood returned. The floors steadied. The walls stitched themselves back into plaster and beam. The red vanished like a fever breaking. But the tension remained. Naruto dropped to his knees beside Sasuke, whose body hung limp in the nook of wall that had held him. His face was pale, slick with sweat and blood. His eyes remained half-lidded, the faintest tremor in his hand the only sign he was still tethered to consciousness.

"...Sasuke..." Naruto whispered, voice cracking like dry wood. He reached out, brushing broken strands of hair from his friend's face. "You stupid, stubborn bastard..." Jiraiya knelt beside them, his usual grin gone, replaced by something older, something weathered and heavy as stone. The lines of his face, often softened by mischief, now carved deep with worry and memory. His eyes roamed over Sasuke's broken body with the precision of a seasoned shinobi and the quiet dread of someone who'd seen too many young lives crushed before their time. He noted the subtle tremors in Sasuke's limbs, the twitch of chakra circuits overloaded and seared from within, the pallor of his skin too close to gray. Each shallow breath was a thread unraveling, barely clinging.

"He's alive," Jiraiya muttered at last, his voice thick, low, as if saying it louder would make it less true. "But barely." Naruto knelt across from him, fists clenched at his sides, eyes wide and wet but holding back the tide with sheer force of will.

"He... he tried to fight him alone," he said hoarsely. "He wasn't ready. I should've-" The words cracked apart in his throat. Jiraiya's gaze shifted toward him, something kind in his expression now, but also grave.

"Nobody's ready for what Itachi just did. That jutsu... Tsukuyomi... it doesn't break bones. It breaks the mind. It traps you inside your worst nightmare and makes it real." He sighed and placed a hand on Naruto's shoulder, firm and grounding, the grip of a mentor who didn't sugarcoat reality. "We need to get him somewhere safe. And fast." Before Naruto could answer, the wall behind them exploded outward in a burst of light and noise.

"DYNAMIC ENTRY!" came the familiar voice like a battle cry heralding salvation, or in this moment chaos. Guy-sensei landed a kick to Jiraiya's face in the hallway with the power of a cannonball, steam rising from his shoulders and chakra rolling off him in hot waves. He skidded to a stop and struck a pose, fists raised, then blinked as he took in the Sannin on the floor, the battered room, the overturned table, and the reeking remnants of toad mucus still clinging to the walls and floor. His eyes went wide. "...No enemies?" he asked, confused. "I sensed chakra and-" Sakura dragged a gloved hand down her face, voice heavy with exasperation.

"Guy-sensei..." she groaned. But the fatigue in her posture betrayed her relief. She stepped in from behind him, scanning the room for Naruto and Sasuke with barely-contained urgency. Her eyes landed on them both, and her breath caught. Sasuke was unconscious, still cradled by the wall, and Naruto sat beside him like a guard left behind by war. Naruto didn't look up. His fists trembled. His voice came out low and dark.

"They hurt him," he said, not to anyone in particular. "I'll make them pay." The promise bled through every syllable, thick as venom. But Jiraiya's eyes narrowed.

"No, you won't," he said flatly. "Not yet." Naruto's head jerked up.

"But I-!"

"You're nowhere near their level," Jiraiya cut in, sharper now, eyes hard. "It took everything I had just to drive them off."

"Kakashi was hit with the same genjutsu, and he's been in bed since. Two other jōnin and I had to drag him back home, and even then, he was lucky." Guy stepped forward, "and Kakashi still hasn't fully recovered," he confirmed. "His chakra was drained nearly to death. He barely recognized us." He paused, glancing at Sasuke, and his expression softened. "And Lee... still no progress. I've trained him beyond the limits of the body. But even my guidance can't fix what's broken inside." His fists curled. "He needs more than spirit. He needs healing."

Sakura's eyes dropped to the floor. Her voice was small. "He's not healing. No matter what I try. My chakra control and medical ninjutsu... it isn't enough yet." The words stung coming from her. She was used to knowing answers. Used to finding strength in progress. But now, all she could feel was helplessness clawing at her ribs.

Jiraiya's voice broke through like a flame in fog. "Then we find the one who can." All eyes turned to him. He stood slowly, cracking his neck, and a slow grin crept back into place, not the lecherous one, but something deeper. A confidence that came from knowing who he trusted in the world. "She's the best medic-nin alive. A sannin. Queen of slugs and tonics. Legendary gambler. Bit of a drinker, terrible with money, worse with men... but when it comes to healing..." He paused. "There's no one better."

Naruto blinked. "Who?"

Jiraiya looked at him and Sakura both. "Tsunade Senju." The name landed like thunder in still air. Sakura's breath caught in her throat. Her heart, already bruised from battle and the weight of helplessness, seemed to stop entirely. That name. The name Sekhmet had whispered to her in those dream-visions that hovered between sleep and memory. The one voice that had always guided her forward in silence now roared in confirmation. Tsunade Senju. The Healer. The Slug Queen. The legendary kunoichi who had walked through war and come out the other side wrapped in legend and loss. Her next step. Her teacher. Her future. It didn't feel like a coincidence. Rather, it felt like fate folding in on itself. Sakura felt the name settle in her bones, resonant and whole, as if it had been waiting inside her all along. Jiraiya rolled his shoulder with a grunt and cracked his knuckles, the sound sharp and deliberate in the quiet. "Looks like our destination's been set," he said, already turning toward the ruined doorway where the last rays of sunlight spilled in. His voice was light, but his eyes remained serious. "Pack your things, brat." He looked back over his shoulder with a smirk that barely softened the steel in his tone. "We're going slug hunting."

Naruto stood slowly, wiping his palms on his pants, his shoulders still tight from adrenaline and unresolved anger. He glanced at Sakura, uncertain. But when she met his eyes, he saw something new behind them. Not just sadness, nor fear, but purpose. Clear and steady, burning low like a forge fire. She gave a single nod, wordless but resolute. That was all it took. He nodded back. The road outside the ruined inn was quiet now, bathed in the gold of a dying sun. The sky above them had already begun to soften into a lavender dusk, and the air carried the faint scent of scorched wood and the acrid, strange musk of toad stomach lining still clinging to their boots. Ash floated gently in the breeze, ghosting over the dirt path like flecks of memory. Guy adjusted Sasuke's unconscious form across his back, the younger Uchiha's limbs limp, bandages already stained and skin pale under the last light of day. For once, the ever-energetic jōnin wore no smile. His brow was furrowed, his jaw set, his usual bravado quieted by the heaviness of what they'd all witnessed.

They stood together at the edge of the road Jiraiya, Naruto, Sakura, and Guy facing the split in the path that would send them in opposite directions. Trees loomed on either side, their leaves whispering gently above as if mourning what had passed and bracing for what was coming. The shadows stretched long across the earth, reaching like fingers toward the village hidden in the leaves.

Jiraiya turned slightly, eyes scanning over the group. "It's going to get worse before it gets better," he said, voice low but firm. "But if we find her, Tsunade, then we stand a chance. Not just at healing... but at surviving what's coming." His words weren't meant to frighten, but they rang with truth. Something was building, and they all felt it. A storm not just of chakra or blades, but of reckoning.

Guy gave a single sharp nod, adjusting his grip on Sasuke. "We'll take it from here," he said quietly, voice stripped of its usual theatrical luster. "You focus on finding Tsunade. Bring her back... and bring back hope with her." Naruto, still riding the adrenaline of everything that had just happened; the Akatsuki, Sasuke's collapse, Jiraiya's arrival, the sheer madness of it all slammed his fist into his palm with a loud smack that echoed through the clearing like a firecracker.

"Don't worry!" he shouted, eyes bright, voice echoing with that signature reckless determination that always seemed just foolish enough to work. "We will find her, and I'll drag her back to the village myself if I have to!" His grin was wide, his chakra still simmering beneath his skin like coals refusing to die out, and for a moment, there was something so unshakably Naruto about it loud, brash, impossible that the wind itself seemed to pause in consideration. Guy blinked, genuinely caught off guard, and turned to face him fully. The grin he wore softened at the edges, pride flaring behind his dark eyes like sunrise breaking through cloud. For a rare second, he was quiet, just looking at the boy who had once been Konoha's troublemaker and now stood in the aftermath of an S-rank ambush with fire in his chest and loyalty in every fiber of his being.

"Hm," Guy murmured at last, and reached slowly into his pack. From its depths, he pulled something folded, green, and shockingly vibrant in the waning afternoon light. The material caught the sun and fluttered slightly in the breeze like a flag unfurling before battle. He held it out solemnly. "Then take this."

Naruto stared, blinking. His eyes widened like dinner plates. "Is that-"

Guy nodded and unfolded it fully with theatrical flair. It was unmistakable. The same unmistakable green jumpsuit that Rock Lee wore like holy armor. "A symbol of perseverance!" Guy declared, his voice swelling with emotion. "Of unyielding resolve! Of the burning spirit that says, 'I will not fall, not today, not ever!'" The wind whooshed around them like applause. The jumpsuit gleamed with righteous sincerity. Behind him, Sakura choked on a laugh, pressing her knuckles to her lips as her shoulders shook.

"Naruto," she said in a whisper that barely concealed her glee, "please don't wear that."

Naruto turned to her, baffled. "What's wrong with it?!"

"Nothing," she said quickly, still half-laughing, half-crying, "absolutely nothing." Her grin widened until her teeth showed, cheeks pink from either laughter. Guy didn't seem the least bit offended. In fact, his chest puffed up with pride as if her amusement only proved how bold a fashion choice it was. With a satisfied huff, he folded the jumpsuit back up and tucked it under Naruto's arm, his eyebrows twitching with approval.

"Take it anyway. In case you find yourself needing a reminder of what passion and dedication look like!" Naruto held it awkwardly, unsure whether to laugh or salute. The moment was absurd, but it also felt oddly important, like receiving a badge from someone who had once seen you as a child and now saw you as something more. Then Guy turned toward the forest path that snaked back toward Konoha, the same path that would soon split, one leading toward recovery, the other toward purpose. The light behind them had dulled to the soft gold of early evening, spilling over the treetops like honey, catching in the dust that lingered in the air and turning the world into something half-dream and half-reckoning. He looked over his shoulder at Sakura, his voice quieter now, but no less firm. "Come, Sakura. Your training begins now." Her smile faded into something more serious as she stepped forward, the last of the laughter fading from her lips. The green was behind her. The path ahead shimmered with uncertainty. But for the first time, she felt ready. The trio moved steadily through the thinning forest, Sasuke silent on Guy's back, unconscious but stable. The air smelled of pine and dust, damp soil and sunlight warming old bark. Leaves fluttered overhead, caught in the slow rhythm of a fading breeze, and the late afternoon sun poured through the canopy in golden slats, painting their path in honeyed light. Yet despite the warmth, something else stirred beneath the surface. Sakura felt it like a string pulled taut within her chest, a hum deep in her bones. She paused mid-step, the chakra around her skin responding instinctively.

"She's coming," she whispered, and the way her voice left her lips low, reverent, absolute, froze the air around them. Guy halted immediately, not out of confusion, but because he understood. The weight of her words was not idle. The forest fell silent. No birds, no wind. Just breath and heartbeat. From between the branches ahead, light bled into the clearing, not the sharp glare of sun filtered through leaves, but something deeper, more sacred and radiant. Familiar. It wasn't just light, it was origin. Sekhmet emerged slowly, her form shaped from the glow itself, like she had always been there and only now decided to be seen. Her feet hovered inches above the mossy earth, glowing golden sandals untouched by the world beneath them. Her ethereal robes shimmered in motionless air, colors shifting from gold to ivory to the soft rose of Sakura's hair, which now stirred in response like twin flames recognizing each other. Her own hair trailed behind her like smoke rising through water, weightless, regal. The war paint-like violet markings glowed faintly across her cheekbones and forehead, and her gaze was green, endless, identical to Sakura's but older, settled on the group with a calm too vast to be called serenity. It was something more. Something eternal.

'You've done well bringing him home,' Sekhmet said, and her voice echoed without echo, not a vibration of sound but a pressure that sank into the skin, resonating through bone like the first chime of a sacred bell struck deep within a temple. It wasn't wind that carried it, there was no breeze, but the air still shifted as if it bowed to her words. Her gaze, heavy and all-seeing, flicked toward Sasuke, and in a single breath, she read everything about him. His chakra flow, dimmed but intact. The hollow drain of trauma laced into his pulse. The faintest lingering tremor at the edge of unconsciousness. She nodded, once. Not in pity, not in sympathy and acknowledgment. He had survived. That was enough. Then her eyes shifted to Guy, and the clearing tightened. The trees around them, though unmoving, seemed to lean in, bark groaning ever so slightly as if bearing witness to something ancient. The light changed not darker, not lighter, but older. Like a sun filtered through memory. Even the birds had fallen silent, the forest holding its breath. 'But now it is time we speak of Sakura's next trial.' Her words fell like a decree, and though they carried no volume, they struck with weight. Final. Certain. Guy did not bow. He didn't need to. But he straightened, shoulders back, chest lifted, not from pride, but from purpose, Sasuke still on his shoulder. The mirth that usually danced in his eyes was gone, replaced by something harder, deeper. Respect and resolve. The exaggerated flamboyance faded like a discarded mask, leaving behind the steel beneath the green. This was the Guy few saw, the warrior who had mastered pain and turned it into power.

"I thought this might come," he said, and his voice was low but sure, not the booming baritone of his usual declarations, but something grounded. It had the gravity of a man who had walked through fire and found meaning on the other side. "She's ready. She's earned it." He looked at Sakura then, and for a moment, his face softened. Not with doubt, but awe. The kind reserved for meteors caught mid-fall, before they become legend. Sekhmet moved, drifting forward not like a ghost, but like an answer. Though her feet never touched the forest floor, the earth responded to her passage. With each step, tiny fissures of glowing light bloomed beneath her, petals of chakra etched into dirt and root, fading gently behind her as if the world refused to hold her too long. Every molecule of the clearing felt aware of her, each leaf stilled, each insect hushed.

When she stopped before Sakura, she didn't speak right away. She looked. Truly looked. As if she were searching through Sakura's skin, her blood, down to the raw will that lived behind her eyes. It was like looking into a mirror made of time, emerald eyes meeting emerald, the same shade split across lifetimes. Sakura didn't flinch. Didn't falter. Though her heart was a thunderclap in her chest, though the air made her lungs feel tight and electrified, she didn't look away. Her hands curled into fists at her sides not in fear, but to anchor herself. Her chakra was rising, not wildly, but precisely, sharpening to a point within her, drawn as tight as a blade poised to strike. She could feel it hum beneath her skin like a drumbeat. Sekhmet's gaze softened in recognition. 'What you unleashed during the Konoha Crush was Astra... but unrefined.' Her voice wrapped around the name like reverence and rebuke both. 'You didn't master it, rather, you barely touched its true edge. It was you. Not me. You wielded it.'

Sakura inhaled sharply, breath catching against the confession that had haunted her. "I thought you took over." Her voice cracked at the edges, but not with weakness. It was the pressure of long-held doubt. Of not knowing where her strength began and the goddess's ended.

'I guided. I protected. But it was your call. Your will.' There was a strange pride in her voice, subtle but fierce, like sunlight breaking through stormclouds. 'That is why it answered. I cannot wield it unless I take over your whole being but you were conscious and in control were you not?' Sakura nodded slowly. Her hand lifted, slowly, palm facing upward. Not commanding, but offering. 'Astra is not a single form... It is many. Shifting. Evolving. A weapon shaped by spirit and memory. Yours. Mine. Ours. You must learn them all, and not through divine shortcuts, but through earned mastery.' The glow in her palm flickered like a forge's ember, as if Astra itself stirred at the words.

Guy nodded slowly, stepping forward just enough for his presence to match hers. "That's where I come in with preparation and memory. For you to make Astra truly your own in this lifetime." Sekhmet turned to him, fully now, and again the clearing shifted like light refracting in a still pond. The gaze she gave him wasn't superior or questioning. It was respectful. Trusting.

'The goddess chakra I've awakened within her will grow. And when she begins opening the Eight Gates, it will not hinder her but it will enhance the gates.' Her voice was clear, every word a thread woven into fate. 'Strengthen what would have broken her. But only if she trains properly.' Guy's lips pressed into a line. Not grim...determined.

"She could surpass even Lee." The words were heavier than admiration. They were a given permission, declaration, a passing of a torch that hadn't yet finished burning.

'Only if she survives it,' Sekhmet said plainly, and the words hung in the air like the toll of a war bell clear, absolute, without room for comfort. They didn't sting, not because they weren't sharp, but because they were true. There was no cruelty in her tone, only the cool steel of divine certainty. The wind didn't stir, but the leaves rustled anyway, as if something unseen shifted across the branches. Her eyes remained on Guy, unreadable yet unflinching. 'That is why I ask you to teach her. No one understands Eight Gates like you. Not their danger. Not their cost, and while I will continue training her spirit while she sleeps, guiding her through Astra's forms, you will shape the vessel that carries it.' There was reverence in the way she said it. Vessel. Not a student, nor a soldier, but a bearer of something ancient and unfinished. Sakura stepped forward then. Her feet didn't stumble, didn't pause. Her voice was steady, shaped not just by conviction but by a new clarity that ran deeper than chakra, deeper than blood.

"And when Naruto and Jiraiya bring Tsunade to the village," she said, each word falling into place like a vow, "I'll begin medical training under her too. I want to heal just as much as I fight." There was no hesitation in her voice, no trembling uncertainty. Just will and want. Not borrowed from others, hers. Sekhmet turned to her. Her eyes, Sakura's eyes, gleamed not with divine approval, but something more dangerous: belief.

'Then it is settled. Your mornings will belong to the Eight Gates. Your afternoons and evenings, to healing. Your nights will be mine and you will be forged at both ends of the fire. Healing and Destruction' The world around them shifted. The light grew warmer, more golden, like dawn bleeding into dusk all at once. Around Sekhmet, the air shimmered not with heat, not with chakra, but with memory. Sakura could feel it in her chest, that ache of something ancient bending toward the future. The goddess's voice lowered, not in volume, but in weight. 'Prepare her well, Guy. She will need everything.' There was no farewell. No bow. No lingering moment. With that, Sekhmet dissolved into light. She did not vanish, she transfigured, split into ribbons of radiant energy that unwound and drifted skyward, as if the forest exhaled her back into the cosmos. Her presence left no footprint, no breeze. Only warmth. Only silence. Only the feeling that something sacred had passed through and was now gone. Sakura didn't move. Not at first. She stood rooted for a breath, her eyes fixed on the space where the goddess had been, her heartbeat slow but strong. It wasn't reverence that held her still. It was understanding. Acceptance. When she finally turned her head, her gaze met Guy's.

"So?" she asked, the single word stripped bare of doubt. It was both an invitation and challenge. Guy's grin came slow, but when it did, it held none of his usual bluster. It was quieter, steadier, tempered by responsibility, forged in the same fire he would now use to shape her.

"At sunrise," he said, voice sure, "we start breaking limits." His words didn't echo, but they didn't need to. They lodged themselves in the clearing like a flag staked into battlefield ground. Sakura smiled, not wide, not triumphant, just true. The weight of her destiny no longer pressed down like a chain. It wrapped around her spine now, braided into her bones. No longer a burden. But a choice. She turned toward the path, her footsteps light but full of purpose, and her voice, when it came, was quiet, but unshakable.

"Let's go home."