Chapter 15: Senbonzakura
A familiar silhouette. Pitch-black combat gear. A fox mask concealing the face.
All the signs pointed to one thing: this was ANBU.
Naruto's eyes narrowed as he studied the masked figure before him. An ANBU operative, approaching him in the middle of the night, trailing him for blocks while radiating murderous intent. This was not a social call.
"Who are you?" Naruto asked, his voice light but edged with suspicion.
The ANBU stepped fully into the street, positioning himself directly in Naruto's path. He held a kunai in one hand, making no effort to hide his killing aura. His posture was aggressive, confrontational. He glanced at Naruto with cold indifference.
"Uzumaki Naruto," the masked man said flatly. "You're coming with me."
"Where?"
A brief pause. Then: "The Hokage Building. Lord Third wants to see you."
Naruto's eyes narrowed further, and inside his chest, a cold laugh echoed.
He didn't believe a word of it.
Yes, the Third Hokage had sent ANBU to monitor him in the past—but always from a distance, always hidden. As far as the Hokage was concerned, Naruto didn't even know ANBU existed. There was no scenario where Hiruzen would send a masked operative to fetch him in the dead of night.
And certainly not one who radiated such obvious hostility.
Naruto's gaze flicked to the kunai in the ANBU's hand. The masked man's fingers were tight around the grip, his knuckles white. His footsteps were slow, deliberate—closing the distance inch by inch, ready to strike at any moment. This was no messenger. This was an executioner.
"What if I refuse?" Naruto asked, his voice soft.
The ANBU's response was immediate, cold, and final. "I'm not asking for your opinion. I'm giving you an order. If you disobey… I'll take you by force."
Without waiting for a reply, the ANBU lunged.
Kunai raised, blade aimed directly at Naruto's head. A killing blow from the very first strike.
But Naruto was ready.
He had already begun opening the gates within his body. Third Gate of Life—OPEN!
His chakra surged, steam rising from his skin as his strength and speed multiplied. He clenched his fist and struck—meeting the incoming kunai head-on.
CRACK.
The kunai shattered. The force of Naruto's punch sent vibrations up the ANBU's arm, numbing his hand and forcing him to stumble backward. He stared at the broken handle still clutched in his fingers, then at Naruto, disbelief flickering behind his mask.
"Eight Inner Gates," the ANBU muttered, recognition dawning.
"Good eyes," Naruto replied flatly.
"Hmph." The ANBU tossed away the ruined kunai and reached behind his back, drawing a short sword. "You've only opened the Third Gate, and you dare attack an ANBU? You're asking to die."
Wind-natured chakra flowed from the ANBU's hand, coating the blade in a razor-sharp shroud. The air around it hissed and whipped. He swung—and a howling vortex of wind blades screamed toward Naruto, each one capable of slicing through flesh and bone.
This was no practice. No exercise. This was real combat—a fight for survival. The ANBU was not holding back. Every strike carried lethal intent.
Naruto frowned. He understood now. He couldn't hold back anymore. Not against this enemy. The survival exercise with Kakashi had been a game compared to this. Here, if he made a single mistake, he would die.
And more than that—Naruto had a deep, instinctive certainty that if he allowed himself to be taken by this man, he would never be seen again. Whatever waited for him in the darkness the ANBU represented was not a Hokage's office. It was something far worse.
No more hiding.
Naruto took a deep breath.
He turned his palm upward, and with a flash of spiritual light, a blade materialized in his grip. A katana, elegant and deadly, its pale pink blade gleaming under the moonlight.
Senbonzakura.
Naruto gripped his Zanpakutō tightly and swung it upward, meeting the ANBU's wind blade head-on.
CLANG!
The two blades collided, sending sparks scattering into the night air. The ANBU's eyes widened behind his mask—where had that sword come from?—
But before he could process the question, Naruto whispered three words.
"Scatter, Senbonzakura."
The blade of Naruto's sword shattered.
It broke apart into hundreds—no, thousands—of tiny fragments, each one no larger than a cherry blossom petal. They swirled in the air around them, catching the moonlight, creating a beautiful, impossible cascade of pale pink light.
For a heartbeat, the ANBU was mesmerized. The sea of petals was breathtaking.
Then the petals moved.
They converged on him like a crashing wave—silent, relentless, and utterly deadly. In the moonlight, their edges glinted with razor sharpness. Each petal was a blade.
The ANBU's eyes went wide with horror. He raised his short sword desperately, swinging wildly to deflect the oncoming storm. But there were too many. The petals came from every direction—front, back, sides, above—an inescapable flood of cutting edges.
Shing. Shing. Shing.
Petals sliced through his combat suit, through his arms, through his legs. Blood sprayed into the air. He stumbled, cried out, tried to retreat—but there was nowhere to go. The sea of cherry blossoms followed him, relentless.
Within moments, the ANBU was on his knees. His uniform was tatters. His body was covered in shallow, bleeding wounds. His short sword, raised in a final, futile defense, trembled in his grip.
Naruto raised a hand. The petals froze mid-swirl, hovering in the air like a frozen storm.
He walked forward slowly, his footsteps silent on the blood-spattered cobblestones. When he stood before the kneeling ANBU, he reached out, and the thousands of petals flowed back toward his palm, reforming into the solid blade of Senbonzakura.
Naruto looked down at the broken, bleeding operative. All traces of arrogance had vanished from the ANBU's posture. Now there was only pain, fear, and disbelief.
"Talk," Naruto said, his voice cold as winter frost. "Who sent you?"
The ANBU looked up at him, his mask cracked, his breath ragged. Even now, even beaten and broken, he did not answer the question. Instead, he rasped in disbelief:
"You… just a genin… how do you have this kind of power?!" A pause. Then, with venom: "So it's true. You really are a monster."
Naruto's expression did not change.
He raised Senbonzakura.
"Wrong answer."
SWOOSH.
The blade came down. Blood sprayed across the cobblestones.
The ANBU's head separated from his body, rolling to a stop a few feet away. His masked face was frozen in an expression of pure shock—the astonishment of a predator who had suddenly discovered that its prey was, in fact, the more dangerous hunter.
Naruto stood over the body for a moment, his breathing steady, his expression unreadable.
Then he noticed something.
The ANBU's mouth was hanging open in death. And on the dead tongue, strange black markings were fading—complex, intricate patterns that seemed to writhe even as they disappeared.
Naruto's pupils contracted.
He recognized those markings.
A Cursed Seal.
The tongue had been sealed. This method of applying a curse—to silence a operative's tongue—was unmistakable.
This is the work of Root.