Itachi crouched beside the corpse, his expression unreadable, but his eyes—his Sharingan—missed nothing.
Shisui stood beside him, arms crossed, brows furrowed in thought. He exhaled slowly, his sharp gaze trailing over the surrounding scene, piecing together the fragmented story the forest had left behind.
"The killer was small," Shisui said finally, voice steady but contemplative. His fingers hovered over the dead man's crushed throat. "Judging by the angle of impact, the attacker had to reach up to do this. Could be an animal—maybe a trained monkey, or a dog summoned by one of the Inuzuka."
Itachi hummed, examining the deep bruising around the man's broken neck. The sheer force required to snap a trained shinobi's cervical spine like that... It was not something a typical animal could do.
Not unless it had monstrous strength.
"There's more," Shisui continued, pointing at the broken wrist. "The man fought back. His dominant arm was shattered first—see the fractures? He was disarmed, literally. But that wasn't what killed him. He tried to flee."
He turned, eyes following the disturbed branches high above. The patterns in the dirt told a clear story.
"He leapt from tree to tree. Then—" Shisui bent down, touching the indent of clawed bark on one branch. "Something fast—lighter than him—landed here. There's a distinct forward momentum, which means it lunged."
He traced the scuffle marks on the forest floor. "The man fell back. See how the dirt is disturbed? He landed on his butt, hands behind him, trying to push away."
Itachi's gaze swept over the body again. The trajectory made sense. The wounds confirmed it.
Shisui glanced back at him. "And then, the finishing blow." His fingers brushed the corpse's broken neck. "A single, powerful grip. No hesitation. No struggle. Just... snap."
The forest was silent.
Both Uchiha stared down at the dead Iwa shinobi.
Small. Fast. Agile.
A terrifying grip strength.
"What animal could do this?" Shisui muttered. "A monkey? A puma? A chimpanzee?" His expression darkened. "Or an extremely well-trained Root ANBU?"
Itachi didn't answer right away. His Sharingan spun slowly, scanning every trace of the fight.
The Iwa spy had been skilled. That much was clear. He had been good enough to infiltrate Konoha undetected, which meant he wasn't some amateur.
And yet—he had died here, in this forest, not by the hands of an elite shinobi, not by an ambush of Konoha ANBU.
But by something else.
Something that had hunted him.
Itachi closed his eyes briefly. The silence of the night pressed in around him.
The implications were unsettling.
A dangerous being was lurking within the village.
And whatever it was—it had just claimed its first kill.
—ToT—
Naruto stared at his reflection in the mirror, tilting his head to the side. His bright blue eyes blinked back at him, full of curiosity rather than the usual weariness. He was different now. Stronger. Faster. Something more.
But what did that really mean?
He had lived countless lives, but never once had he been able to carry over his abilities from one life to another. He had always started fresh, as if reborn without memories.
Yet now…
This life was different.
This time, he remembered.
And if he remembered, that meant he could use what he had learned.
But how much could he use?
His fingers flexed, excitement bubbling under his skin. There was only one way to find out.
He took a deep breath, focusing on the changes he wanted.
"Grow horns," he commanded himself.
Nothing.
Naruto frowned. He ran his fingers over his forehead, expecting to feel something—anything—push through his skin. But no. It was as smooth as ever.
"Grow a tail," he muttered.
Still nothing.
He sighed. So physical transformations were impossible. That was fine. He never really liked the idea of having a tail anyway—too easy to grab in a fight.
But that didn't mean everything was impossible.
His abilities were real. He had felt them in the Forest of Death. He had moved like a cheetah. Gripped like a chimpanzee. Seen in the dark like a wolf.
He just had to understand how it all worked.
Naruto glanced around his tiny apartment, his eyes settling on a dusty weight scale tucked under his bed.
Perfect.
He pulled it out, placing it in front of the mirror. Taking a deep breath, he stepped onto it. The rusty dial wobbled before settling on a number.
17 kilos.
That sounded about right for his size. Not for his age.
Now for the test.
Naruto focused, closing his eyes. He thought back to his time as a wolf, when the entire world had been a symphony of scents, each one layered and distinct.
He inhaled deeply.
The stale air of his apartment filled his lungs—along with something else.
The faint, lingering scent of old food. The ink from his scattered drawings. The damp, moldy wood of his walls.
And beyond that—outside.
The trees near the training grounds, the sweat of shinobi running past. The scent of dumplings cooking at a stall three streets away. The unmistakable tang of blood somewhere far off in the village.
His eyes snapped open.
I can smell everything.
Naruto glanced down at the scale.
The number hadn't changed. Still 17 kilos.
So—his weight remained the same.
His body didn't physically change when he accessed his past abilities.
That was interesting.
That meant his muscles weren't actually growing stronger when he used the grip of a chimpanzee. His legs didn't become longer when he ran like a cheetah.
It was something else.
Something deeper.
Naruto frowned.
He had a lot of testing to do.
TBC