The training ground was plunged into darkness, torn apart only by flashes of blue light. Wide craters scarred the earth everywhere.
"One more time!" Naruto rasped.
A clone appeared beside the original. Two pairs of hands flashed. Rotation. Density. Containment.
In Naruto's palm, a sphere of chaotic chakra hummed.
"Three seconds," the clone stated and dispelled.
The Rasengan in the original's hand destabilized and dissolved with a hiss, scalding the skin with friction heat.
Naruto stood, breathing heavily.
Still too slow. In a real fight, I might not have three seconds. I need one and a half. Or at least two.
He looked at his hands. The skin on his palms was red, inflamed from constant contact with concentrated, wild chakra. The channels inside his arms trembled like over-tightened strings. He could already create the technique; only practice remained.
"Enough for today," he decided, feeling his fingers trembling.
Jiraiya had gone into the city at lunch, leaving him to work on automaticity. The blonde brushed off the dust and trudged toward the training ground exit. He needed rest, or tomorrow he wouldn't even be able to make a fist.
Evening descended on Konoha, bringing coolness with it, but Naruto didn't feel it. Only the heat in his hands. The tenth day of training. The Rasengan was formed, but it was like a wild beast that needed breaking in. His chakra channels ached from constant strain, and a fine tremor had become his constant companion.
He jumped across rooftops, heading home, dreaming of eating soon, a cold shower, and sleep.
"Hey, kid."
The voice was hoarse, tense. Naruto froze at the edge of a water tower. Anko Mitarashi stepped out of the shadows. She was wearing ordinary civilian clothes—a loose t-shirt and pants—but a kunai was strapped to her thigh. She looked terrible. Pale skin covered in sweat, lips bitten until they bled, and her left hand convulsively clutching the right side of her neck.
"Anko-san?" Naruto turned to her. "You look..."
"Just Anko. And I know, like shit," she interrupted, grimacing from a spasm. "Orochimaru... that snake bastard is somewhere nearby. The Seal is going crazy."
She stepped toward him, and in her eyes, Naruto saw a mixture of pain and desperation.
"What you did to the Uchiha in the arena," she exhaled. "You shut down his Seal. Made it shut up. Do it to me. Now."
Naruto frowned. He walked closer, activating Qi Sensory. "Move your hand."
Anko removed her palm. Three tomoe on her neck pulsed with malicious, purple light. The skin around it was inflamed, veins bulging and darkened.
Naruto reached out but didn't touch the skin. He "probed" the structure of the curse with his energy. The picture was grim.
"Won't work," he said sharply, pulling his hand back.
"What?!" Fury flared in Anko's eyes. "Did you chicken out? Or am I not important enough compared to your precious Uchiha?!"
"Don't be stupid," Naruto's voice was cold and sobering as a slap. "Sasuke's seal had just been placed. It was on the surface, trying to break in. I just hit it with my 'chakra' and stunned the parasite."
He pointed to her neck. "Your seal has been with you for years. It has grown into your nervous system, intertwined with your chakra channels. If I hit it the same way as Sasuke... I'll burn out your nerves. You'll end up paralyzed or die from shock."
Anko swayed, leaning on the railing. Her legs buckled.
"Son of a bitch... It burns so much... Like acid in my veins..."
Naruto sighed. He saw this pain. The foreign "dirty" chakra was rampaging more and more in the host's body.
"I can't remove it or shut it down. Not yet. But... I can try to ease the symptoms."
He walked right up to her. "Sit."
Anko slid down the tower wall. Naruto knelt on one knee beside her. "This isn't a cure, Anko. It's a painkiller. I'll create a layer of my 'chakra' around the seal to muffle the resonance with Orochimaru's chakra. It will feel strange. Don't twitch."
His palm glowed with soft, pale-blue light. The light didn't look threatening. Only peace and structure. He placed his palm on her neck.
Anko sucked in air sharply. She expected pain, a blow, heat. But instead, she felt coolness. As if ice had been applied to red-hot iron. The energy slowly seeped under the skin, not attacking the Seal, but enveloping it, creating a cocoon. The pulsation slowed. The evil whisper in her head quieted. The fire in her veins went out.
A minute later, Naruto removed his hand. Sweat rolled down his forehead—fine control required immense concentration, especially when his hands were already shaking from fatigue.
Anko opened her eyes. Her breathing evened out. Color began to return to her face. She touched her neck. The seal was there, but it... had gone quiet.
"Better?" Naruto asked, standing up.
Anko looked up at him. There was none of the usual crazy Kunoichi in her gaze. There was relief and deep, human gratitude.
"Yeah..." she said hoarsely. "Damn, kid... Thanks. So... much better."
"The effect is temporary. A few days, maybe more," Naruto warned. "Try not to use chakra to the limit."
Anko chuckled, getting up. Her usual bravado was returning to her, but now it was softer. "You have to get stronger, Uzumaki. To one day burn this crap out of me for good. I'll be waiting."
Naruto nodded, turning away. "I'm working on it."
Parting ways with Anko, only now did he feel how exhausted he was. Alleviating her symptoms had drained the last of his mental concentration.
He walked down the street.
Konoha lived its life. Somewhere people laughed leaving bars. Lanterns burned. Patrol ninja talked lazily on rooftops. The world seemed normal.
But Naruto knew it was an illusion.
Anko's eyes flashed in his mind. Pain and fear. The Forest of Death and Orochimaru's monstrous aura.
That damn Snake is somewhere here, he thought, clenching a trembling fist. He walks these streets, possibly in someone else's face. And people sleep, relying on walls. But walls won't save you from what's already inside.
He needed to become stronger not for the exam. But so that when this bomb exploded, he could protect those dear to him.
The familiar smell of broth tore him from his dark thoughts.
The glowing sign: Ichiraku Ramen.
Naruto pushed aside the entrance curtain. Inside it was warm and cozy—like returning home.
"Oh, Naruto!" Teuchi peeked out from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. "The usual?"
"Yeah... One portion, Old Man."
Naruto sat at the counter. His body, held up by adrenaline during Anko's treatment, now, in safety, began to fail. Shoulders slumped. Hands resting on the counter shook slightly. It was the tremor of overexertion—when muscles and chakra channels are so exhausted they lose connection with the brain.
Ayame placed a steaming bowl in front of him. "Bon appetit!"
Naruto reached for the chopstick holder. His fingers closed on the wood, he tried to break the disposable chopsticks apart... and couldn't. His fingers simply wouldn't obey. The chopsticks slipped from his weakened grip and fell onto the counter with a clatter.
Naruto froze, staring at the fallen utensils. Shame and irritation at his own weakness pricked his heart. "Damn..."
He reached down, but a warm hand covered his palm.
Ayame. She didn't say a word. Didn't ask "What's wrong?" or "Are you okay?". She knew how hard he trained.
She gently moved his hand aside. Picked up the fallen chopsticks, threw them in the bin. Took out new ones, carefully broke them apart herself, and placed them in his fingers, helping him grip them correctly.
Then she pushed the bowl closer.
"Don't overdo it, you will definitely become a Chunin," she said quietly, her voice full of that very care that replaced a mother's.
Naruto inhaled the steam from the noodles. The lump in his throat receded. "Mm," he nodded, finally gaining control over his hands. "Okay, Ayame-nee-san."
"Eat," she smiled at him with just her eyes. "You need strength."
That evening, the ramen was especially delicious.