Naruto: The Last Harbinger of Storm

Naruto: The Last Harbinger of Storm

Chapter 62: The Great Escape

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NTLHOS: Chapter 62: The Great Escape is out!

NTLHOS: Chapter 63: The Bound Path And World Around IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 64- The Silence Of Wind Or Is It Life? IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 65: Realisation And Transformation IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 66: The Game Is ONN IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 67: A Storm Is Always Remains A Storm. IS OUT !

NTLHOS: Chapter 68: New threads of Influence is out!

NTLHOS: Chapter 69: Strategy- The Great Heist IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 70: Wrath of Darkness IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 71: "Echoes of Thunder IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 72: The Silent Rebellion IS OUT!

Author's Note:

I am currently enduring the archaic torture of examinations under the ever-watchful gaze of university supervisors. 🎓📚 It's a harrowing trial, but fear not! Though I may not be in top form to keep up with my usual schedule during this torment, I promise to return stronger once this ordeal is over. 💪😅

For the next two weeks, I won't be responding to comments or reviews 📨, but your support means the world to me! 🌟 I hope you understand and stick with me through this. 2 chapter per week will be posted in this duration. 🙏

This chapter was packed with action, alliances, and growth for Naruto! ️ I hope you enjoyed it as much as I loved writing it. In the next chapter, we'll delve deeper into Naruto's plans and move forward with an exciting time skip! ⏳✨

Thank you for your patience and unwavering encouragement. Stay tuned for more twists, turns, and surprises! 🚀🔥

—Cheers and happy reading! 📖

As always, don't forget to comment and like if you enjoyed the read!

-xx-xx-

"Freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed."

—Martin Luther King Jr.

-xx-xx-

Last time on NTLHOS:

The old man regarded him with an inscrutable look, his gaze calm and unyielding. "You wouldn't understand, lowlife." With that, he turned his back on the masked man, as if dismissing him entirely. In a single, smooth motion, he lifted Naruto, slinging the boy's limp body over his shoulder like a doll, and began walking away, his footsteps steady and unhurried, unconcerned with the enemies he left behind.

The masked man, struggling to his feet, watched them go, his fists clenched in impotent rage. "Who is he?" he demanded, his voice barely a whisper, laced with a fear he could not suppress.

-xx-xx-

Now:

The air in the underground hideout was heavy with the scent of damp stone and earth, mingling with the faint metallic tang of chakra lingering in the seals that lined the walls. Shadows danced across the cavernous space, cast by flickering torches mounted on ancient stone pillars, their light struggling to penetrate the gloom. It had been three months since the residents of the Uzumaki Tower had made their escape from Konoha—three long months of hiding, waiting, and rebuilding.

Kammado sat at the edge of a low platform, his large hands resting on his knees, his fingers brushing the worn surface of the stone. The weight of the years had settled into his bones, though he still carried himself with the vitality of a man decades younger. His once jet-black hair had turned a pale silver, but his frame—tall, broad, and unyielding—remained a testament to the warrior he had once been. He stood at six-foot-seven, his powerful body still capable of breaking a man with little effort. But despite his strength, he could no longer ignore the fatigue that crept into his limbs, the ache in his joints, or the heavy burden that had settled into his heart.

"Old," he muttered to himself, his voice a low rumble that echoed faintly off the stone walls. "I've grown old."

In the distant corners of the hideout, the murmurs of the other Uzumaki refugees filled the space—children whispering in huddled groups, shinobi gathered in quiet conversation, their voices heavy with the weight of the unknown future. Most of them had been born and raised in Konoha. The younger generation, especially, had never seen Uzushiogakure—their true homeland. To them, Konoha had always been their refuge. Convincing them to leave had been a bit harder, but not something he couldn't manage.

But they had left. They had cut their ties with the village that had once been their refuge but had become their prison over time.

Kammado's mind drifted to the events that had set everything in motion, the bitter taste of it still sharp on his tongue. The Fire Court incident—the trial that had humiliated the Prince—was unacceptable. That day had been the tipping point. When the prince, in his quiet but unmistakable fury, had given the order to prepare for their mass exodus, Kammado had been taken aback. But this time, the prince had been resolute. The Uzumaki would no longer be tied to Konoha's fate. They would no longer be a tool for others to wield.

At that moment, Kammado had seen the reflection of another face, one from a distant past—His Grace, the legendary seal master, who had once stood at the heart of Konoha's defenses. Lady Mito, too, had understood the necessity of such preparations. Kammado remembered the old days when she had been on the verge of completing the Mass Transportation Seal, a monumental Jikukan Ninjutsu—a space-time technique designed to move the entire population of Uzushiogakure if the worst came to pass. But the invasion of Uzushiogakure had come too soon, and the seal had remained unfinished.

Lady Mito, however, had never left anything to chance. Before her death, she had twisted the almost-completed seal into a new purpose, targeting it not toward Uzushiogakure—since even she, with all her mastery, could no longer enter the fallen village—but toward the Land of Waves. There was an underground hideout in the Land of Waves that had been an old secret outpost of Uzu. The Land of Waves had also been a vassal outpost of Uzu.

-xx-xx-

"She saw it coming, maybe," Kammado thought, his mind turning over the decades-old memories like weathered stones. Even with the power of the Nine-Tails at her disposal, Lady Mito had known that it would take a gargantuan amount of chakra to activate the seal—a one-time use only. When Kammado had been entrusted with the ancient book detailing the seal's construction and Lady Mito's notes, he hadn't imagined they would ever need to use it. He had never hoped they would ever have to resort to this.

But then came the prince. After the debacle at the Fire Court, the prince had returned, his face hard with determination, and ordered Kammado to prepare the Mass Exodus Seal for their escape. It was then that Kammado realized the time had come. The Uzumaki would abandon Konoha to their fate. And they would not look back.

The work had been exhausting, far more difficult than Kammado had anticipated. He was no longer the young man who had stood beside Squad Tobirama in joint missions, running covert operations under the banner of the Second Hokage or during his time on missions for Uzu. Time had worn him down, despite his refusal to show it. Yet his loyalty to Uzu, to His Grace, and to the prince burned as fiercely as ever. Kammado had thrown himself into the task with every ounce of strength he had left.

Explaining the situation to the younger generation had been no easy feat. They had lived their entire lives under the refuge of Konoha, never knowing the home their ancestors had been forced to abandon. But they had learned quickly; they were always told where their real loyalty lay. Their trust in the prince and the elders of the tower outweighed their fears of the unknown. They had packed their few belongings—down to the last needle—in the various seals, gathered throughout the day and in the dead of night, and followed Kammado's orders.

Kammado had prepared everything meticulously, down to the smallest detail. He had fixed the delayed shutdown and erasure seals that the prince had given him on the tower's main master seal matrix—a complex web of chakra designed to erase every trace of the Uzumaki's presence in Konoha. Every seal the Uzumaki had ever placed within the village would vanish without a trace. Konoha's defenses, so intricately woven with Uzumaki craftsmanship, would be crippled. The scroll containing the instructions for these seals had been entrusted to him by the prince, hidden in a place only he could reach. It would be Konoha's final punishment for their betrayal.

And so, under the cover of darkness, Kammado had led 800 souls to the Mass Transportation Seal. Then, in a white flash and blink of an eye, they had been gone—teleported to the Land of Waves in an instant, leaving nothing behind but empty corridors, cold stone, and countless self-destructive seals.

The underground caverns of the Land of Waves had been a far cry from the safety of the tower, but they had found respite in the hidden outpost that had been prepared so long ago. But they couldn't stay there for long. The Land of Waves was too close to the Land of Fire. They would need to move again, and soon.

The sea churned beneath them as the ships cut through the water, their creaking hulls slicing through the crashing waves with a slow, relentless determination. The wind was a biting, cold whip against their faces, bringing with it the tang of salt and the distant echoes of an unknown shore. The mists had begun to rise as they neared the Land of Water, curling like ghostly fingers around the ships, shrouding their destination in a blanket of eerie silence. Kammado stood at the prow of one of the larger vessels, his tall, imposing figure silhouetted against the pale light of the moon that flickered behind the clouds.

His eyes scanned the horizon, narrowing as the silhouette of land slowly materialized before him, emerging from the mists like a memory long forgotten. Behind him, the rest of the refugees moved in quiet efficiency, their voices hushed. They had learned well to keep their heads down, to blend into the shadows, and to trust in his command. Kammado's presence alone was enough to instill a sense of calm, though beneath his stoic exterior, his thoughts churned as violently as the sea beneath their feet.

The Prince's contact—a man whose name Kammado had never learned—had provided the means for this journey. His contact had brought them ships and the resources they needed to flee. But it had been Kammado, along with the elders and shinobi, who had fixed the ancient Uzumaki seals, converted seals that had powered the ships they sailed upon. These were the very same ships that had once brought the Uzumaki refugees to the shores of the Land of Fire all those years ago, when they had sought refuge in Konoha, trusting in their allies to provide sanctuary.

But that trust had been misplaced, and now, in a bitter twist of fate, those same seals were ferrying them away from the village that had once been their haven.

The shinobi among them had moved with practiced ease, their chakra allowing them to run across the water's surface, skimming over the waves like phantoms in the night. The more experienced among them, those who had trained in the art of the "Water Gliding," had moved with even greater efficiency, gliding over the churning sea as though they were one with the water itself. Meanwhile, the civilians, children, and older members of the tower refugees, those who could not make the journey on foot, had taken the ships and smaller boats, huddling together in the dim light of the lanterns, their faces lined with exhaustion.

Kammado's mind drifted, reminding him of his youth, when he had sailed these very waters under a different sun, a different sky. But those days were gone, lost to time, just like the village they had abandoned.

As they neared the shore, the mists parted just enough to reveal a figure standing at the water's edge, a silhouette shrouded in fog. Kammado's eyes narrowed as he took in the sight of the man waiting for them. Tall and imposing, the figure was unmistakable, and yet there was something that Kammado found familiar. As they drew closer, the man's features became clear—the sharp lines of his face, the stern set of his jaw, and most telling of all, the massive sword strapped to his back—an Akebino.

Jinin Akebino.

Kammado's heart skipped a beat. He hadn't expected to see a member of the Akebino clan here. Then, when he learned who the man was—a man once counted among the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist—Kammado felt suspicion stirring in his gut. The Akebino clan had given everything for Uzu once, their loyalty unwavering. But that was before the fall, before the world had turned against them. Now, as Jinin Akebino approached, Kammado could not help but feel the stirrings of suspicion in his gut. The man's allegiance, once clear, now seemed clouded by the passage of time and his former loyalty to the Mist.

Kammado stepped down from the ship as it came to rest against the shore, his boots sinking into the wet sand. He stood a moment, the sea wind tugging at his cloak, watching as Jinin drew nearer. Their eyes met.

"You've come far, Lord Kammado," Jinin said, his voice rough like the grinding of stone. "And you've brought quite the number."

Kammado nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving the man's face. "Far enough. And we'll go farther still."

Jinin's eyes flickered, but his expression remained unreadable. "I am overjoyed to meet remnants of Uzu. I've made the arrangements. You'll have safe passage through the Land of Water, but you'll need to move quickly before sunrise. There are eyes everywhere."

Kammado grunted in acknowledgment but said nothing more. For now, he would accept the help Jinin offered, but he would not forget the past so easily. The Akebino had to prove themselves worthy again, and until then, Kammado would remain vigilant.

The journey from the Land of Water had been a quiet one, the mist clinging to their ships as they moved inland, leaving the sea behind. From there, they had traveled to theLand of Wolves, a wild, untamed region where the night itself seemed to howl with the cries of unseen beasts. Jinin's contacts had bribed the guards to let them pass unnoticed, slipping through the gaps in the patrols with the precision of ghosts. But Kammado knew that their true destination lay farther still—beyond the wilderness, beyond the borders of what was known.

-xx-xx-

The Land of Marshes.

The thought of it stirred something deep within him, a sense of familiarity and foreboding all at once. The Land of Marshes was a place that had once held great significance to the Uzumaki, a place where Kammado had once served as a protector. Uzumaki used to offer protection and policing for the previous leadership of the Land of Swamps. It was a land of treacherous swamps, where the ground itself seemed to shift and change with every step, where danger lurked beneath the surface of the murky waters.

The long grasses swayed in the wind, towering above them like silent sentinels, their edges sharp enough to cut. The marshes themselves were alive, breathing with the pulse of the earth, swallowing whole those foolish enough to stray from the path. But Kammado knew these swamps, perhaps more than anyone alive. He had lived among them once, back when Uzushiogakure had still stood as a beacon of strength and power. He knew the hidden ways, the paths that only those loyal to the Uzumaki could traverse.

As they neared the heart of the marshes, Kammado raised his hands, forming a series of intricate seals that shimmered in the air. The hidden paths revealed themselves, the swamp shifting and hardening beneath their feet, creating a solid trail through the treacherous mire. One by one, the refugees followed, their steps light and careful, their eyes wide with wonder at the magic that made the impossible possible.

The final hill rose before them, a solitary island in the middle of the swamp, untouched by the passage of time. Kammado's heart swelled with a strange mix of pride and sorrow as they approached the entrance, the stone door hidden beneath layers of moss and age. This place—this fortress—was one of the Uzumaki's greatest secrets, a stronghold built centuries ago to house their armies and protect their people in times of need.

With a flick of his wrist, Kammado sliced his palm and pressed it against the stone. Blood seeped into the ancient seals carved into the surface, and for a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a deep, grinding groan, the stone began to move, sliding open to reveal the dark expanse beyond.

The refugees filed inside, their faces a mix of relief and exhaustion, their eyes wide with hope and fear. This would be their new home—a place where they could rebuild, far from the reach of Konoha, far from the betrayals of the past. As the last of them entered, Kammado turned, his eyes scanning the horizon one final time. The heavy stone doors closed behind him, sealing them off from the outside world.

It wasn't Uzushiogakure, but it was a start.

-xx-xx-

A sharp knock on the heavy wooden door pulled Kammado from his reverie.

"Come in," Kammado called, his voice steady, but there was a subtle edge to it—years of command embedded into his tone.

The door creaked open, and a tall figure stepped into the room. A kunoichi, her presence graceful but radiating power. She was fair-skinned, her sharp features framed by green hair, which she had tied into a tight bun with a needle running through it. Orange-tipped strands hung loosely, framing either side of her face, accentuating her piercing, pupil-less brown eyes. She moved with the ease of a seasoned warrior, the muscles in her legs taut and her form relaxed but alert. Her attire, sleeveless and backless, was designed for combat—showing both confidence and the freedom of movement a kunoichi of her skill would require. Bandages wrapped tightly around her thighs and ankles, and purple arm-warmers extended up to her shoulders, completing the image of a battle-hardened woman.

"Lord Kammado," she greeted with a bow of her head, her voice as sharp and disciplined as her posture. "The patrols have returned. There are no discrepancies."

Kammado looked up from the scroll, his eyes focusing on her. "Good," he said with a nod, then paused, "How are the children progressing in their training, Pakura?"

Now very familiar, Pakura, also known across the elemental nations as the famed Shakuton no Pakura—the Scorch Release Mistress—straightened her posture, a hint of pride flashing across her face. "They are coming along well, my lord. I have found some promising ones among the new recruits. They've taken to the training with a hunger I haven't seen in years."

Kammado's mouth curved into a rare, subtle smile as he handed her a scroll. She accepted it with a slight bow, her eyes glancing at the markings. "You'll find the names of those ready for advanced training in there," Kammado said, his tone serious.

Pakura's eyes flicked up from the scroll, and she asked, "Where is Naruto?"

Kammado's eyes narrowed at the informal use of the Prince's name, and the air in the room seemed to grow colder.

Realizing her mistake, Pakura quickly corrected herself, "I mean, where is Lord Uzumaki?"

Kammado's expression softened slightly, but his voice remained measured. "He has not found it necessary for me to know his precise whereabouts. The Prince said he would send word within seven days. Until then, we continue as planned."

Pakura nodded, a flicker of something unreadable passing through her eyes. The last time she had seen Naruto—Lord Naruto—she had barely recognized him. The midget of a boy she remembered had become one of the highest-bounty shinobi in the elemental nations, a man whose infamy rivaled even the most notorious high S-rank criminals. When she first arrived at the hideout, she had made the mistake of addressing him casually, as she had in his younger days. His response had been calm, but it was the reaction of Kammado and the other elders that had set her straight. She still remembered the harsh reprimands, the thinly veiled threats, and the cold, hard stares from the council members. If she had been anyone else and not a friend of Naruto, she was certain they would have buried her in the swamps outside for her disrespect.

Now, she never addressed Naruto without the proper honorifics.

"Thank you, my lord," Pakura said, bowing once more before turning to leave. As she exited the room, she almost collided with another kunoichi standing just outside. Anko Mitarashi, her second-in-command, stood leaning against the wall, her arms crossed, a devilish grin playing across her face. Pakura had always liked Anko, despite her reckless nature. There was something wild and unrestrained about her, and Pakura could appreciate someone who wasn't afraid to push boundaries—so long as it didn't involve disrespecting the Prince. Even Anko, with all her bravado, dared not utter Naruto's name without the proper respect.

"You're done with the old man?" Anko asked with a smirk as Pakura handed her the scroll.

"Yeah," Pakura replied, her voice quiet, contemplative. "The kids are doing well. Better than expected."

Anko rolled her eyes. "They'd better be. If they're not, I'll take care of it myself. No mercy."

Pakura chuckled. "They'll be fine."

With that, Pakura made her way toward the makeshift academy they had established. As she walked through the stone halls, younger children's voices echoed, calling out to her. "Pakura-sensei!" they yelled, waving enthusiastically. She smiled at them, a soft, genuine smile that she hadn't worn in years. In these moments, she allowed herself to feel something other than the hardened warrior she had become.

Teaching had always been a passion of hers. During her involvement in the Mist rebellion, she had fought and bled for her cause, but there had been little room for kindness or compassion in the camps. Now, here, under the protection of Naruto's command, she had found a place again—a place where she could teach, where she could nurture the next generation of shinobi without the constant shadow of death looming over them. Just being approved by Naruto—their prince—had made her one of them. And the children—they trusted her.

-xx-xx-

Her thoughts wandered to the events in Kirigakure, the Land of Mist. Everything had changed the day Naruto escaped. Pakura still remembered the sight of Ao being brought back, bloodied and bruised beyond recognition, after his encounter with Naruto. He had remained unconscious for a full week before waking, and even then, he had barely been able to speak. But in the end, he had made a full recovery. They had recovered a scroll from his jacket—Naruto's handwriting, marked with a single note: "I am sorry. This might help you. This is the fruit of my work."

At first, Mei Terumī and the rebel leaders had been suspicious. Why would Naruto—someone who had just betrayed them—leave a parting gift? But when they finally opened the scroll, it revealed a seal matrix—complex, intricate, but promising. It was something Naruto had been working on during his tenure in the rebellion. After much deliberation, Mei had taken the risk and deployed it during the next confrontation with Yagura.

They laid the seal like a mine. When Yagura stepped into position, the seals activated, creeping across his body like vines, and for the first time in years, they had the upper hand. The seal rewrote Yagura's seal, and his control over his Bijū, turning its chakra against him when he attempted to use it. Bound by his own power, Yagura had been helpless, and within two months, the loyalists had been crushed, their regime finally toppling under the weight of their leader's defeat.

But Yagura had not gone down quietly. Before he was captured, the pain of the Bijū's chakra had forced him to reveal something shocking—he had been under genjutsu control all along. For years, the Mist had been manipulated by an unseen hand. They had been so close to reclaiming their land, but then Yagura had disappeared from his cell. One night, without a trace, he was simply gone.

And after three months of rebel rule, everything unraveled. The loyalists regrouped with Yagura at the helm, supported by the Village hidden in the sand with Rasa, the Kazekage, leading them. Within weeks, they had retaken the capital, forcing the rebels to flee once again. The rebellion, once so close to victory, had been thrown back into chaos. Worse still for her, the rebels had been forced to make an agreement with the Sand village, promising to give up Pakura in exchange for their withdrawal. So they arranged an exchange where a bound Pakura, with her consent, was delivered to the Sand. When the Sand shinobi were about to execute her, she had managed to escape, thanks to the senbon that Mei had hidden in her clothing, which she used to cut her bindings. The chakra suppression seal they had placed on her had also been faulty—intentionally, by Mei's design. She escaped and went on the run, out of the Mist and into the shadows once again.

-xx-xx-

She had been on the run for years, surviving by taking bounty hunting jobs and black market missions, drifting through the shadows of the elemental nations like a ghost. It was a harsh existence, one that forced her to stay constantly vigilant, always one step ahead of those who hunted her. But two and a half months ago, everything changed when she found herself face to face with an organization she had only heard whispers of in the underworld—the Akatsuki.

The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows over the endless expanse of forest that stretched as far as the eye could see. Pakura's feet dug into the soil as she skidded to a halt, her body drenched in sweat. The air was thick with humidity, the heat of her own chakra still lingering in the air, and her breath came in ragged gasps. She could feel her chakra reserves running dangerously low, the telltale sign that her strength was waning. But she wasn't alone—two shadows stood before her, two predators eyeing their prey.

She had heard whispers of the Akatsuki before, that dark organization lurking in the underworld. They were whispered of in the same breath as death—powerful missing-nin who worked for the highest bidders, taking on missions that required lethal precision. She never expected to find herself their target. And certainly not hunted by two of its most dangerous members: Orochimaru, the infamous Snake Sannin, and Sasori of the Red Sand, a puppet master whose very name evoked terror throughout Sunagakure.

Orochimaru's face twisted into an amused smirk, his golden, serpentine eyes gleaming with a cruel delight. His movements were slow, predatory, and deliberate. "Pakura of the Scorch Release," he hissed, his voice dripping with malevolence, "I'm surprised you've lasted this long. But it's time to end this little game, don't you think?"

Sasori stood nearby, silent and calculating, his fingers twitching ever so slightly. At that signal, the ten puppets he had deployed moved in unison, their mechanical limbs clicking with eerie precision as they slowly encircled her. Their glassy, hollow eyes bore into her, void of life, ready to obey their master's deadly command.

Pakura's heart raced. She knew she was outmatched. She had seen Sasori's puppets in action before, but never like this—never with Orochimaru by his side. The combined threat was overwhelming. She clenched her fists, feeling the last vestiges of her chakra gather in her hands, a pitiful amount compared to what she would need to face them. But if she was going to go down, she was determined to take as many of them with her as she could.

"Scorch Release: Incinerating Heat Wave!" she shouted, her voice hoarse yet defiant.

Blazing orbs of superheated chakra shot from her hands, igniting the air around her into a shimmering, rippling inferno. The ground beneath her began to melt, the soil turning to molten glass as the temperature spiked. Her technique was lethal enemies would shrivel and turn to ash from dehydration alone. But as the inferno roared around her, she realized it wouldn't be enough.

Orochimaru's body moved like liquid, slithering back with an unnatural grace that made her skin crawl. His mocking smile only deepened, his amusement almost palpable as he easily dodged her attack. "You're fast, Pakura," he hissed, "but not fast enough."

Sasori's puppets scattered like insects, their jointed limbs clattering as they expertly avoided her flames. The precision with which they moved was inhuman, and Pakura could feel her frustration mount. No matter how hard she pushed, it was like fighting shadows.

Pain flared up her side as Orochimaru was upon her in an instant, the legendary Kusanagi sword extending from his mouth in a grotesque display. The blade gleamed in the fading light, and she barely managed to twist out of the way, the edge grazing her arm. The burning cut sent a jolt through her, but she spun around, trying to fend off Sasori's relentless puppets.

She quickly formed another set of hand seals, her chakra flaring with desperation. "Scorch Release: Superheated Mirage!"

The air around her shimmered and bent, distorting her image as she created illusory duplicates of herself. The mirage was effective at first, confusing the puppets as they hesitated, unsure which Pakura to strike. But she knew it wouldn't last long. Sasori was already adapting, his puppets moving methodically, striking down her illusions one by one.

Desperation clawed at her mind. She had to escape. She had to run.

With a final surge of chakra, Pakura launched herself into the air, her body twisting as she tried to put as much distance between her and the two monsters pursuing her. But before she could get far, she felt something cold and slick wrap around her ankle. Her heart sank. She looked down and saw Orochimaru's long, snake-like tongue coiled around her leg, pulling her back toward him with terrifying strength.

"Leaving so soon?" Orochimaru taunted, his voice slithering through the air like poison.

Pakura's mind raced. She was trapped. His grip tightened, dragging her closer to the waiting blade of Kusanagi. The ground beneath her felt like quicksand, pulling her toward the inevitable end.

Just as Orochimaru raised the blade for the killing strike, a new voice cut through the air, sharp and cold.

-xx-xx-

"My, my, Orochimaru. Still haven't learned to sense your surroundings, have you?"

Pakura's eyes widened. That voice—she recognized it instantly.

Orochimaru's head snapped toward the source of the sound, his serpentine gaze locking onto a lone figure perched on the branch of a dead tree. There, standing with a casual air, was Naruto Uzumaki. His red hair, tousled by the wind, framed his face in sharp contrast to the darkening sky. His expression was calm, detached, but his eyes... his eyes radiated a power that made the air itself feel heavy with tension.

Pakura's heart pounded as she saw him. He was no longer the boy she had once known. The Naruto who stood before her was different—older, colder, hardened by the weight of the world. His name now carried a bounty so high that even the most hardened criminals in the elemental nations spoke it with caution. And the way Orochimaru's eyes flickered with something that could almost be called fear—it was telling.

Orochimaru's smile faltered, just slightly, but it was enough for Pakura to notice. "Naruto Uzumaki," he drawled, though there was an edge of tension in his voice. "I didn't expect to see you here. What brings you to this little corner of the world?"

Naruto's gaze flicked between Orochimaru and Sasori, his posture relaxed, but there was a quiet intensity about him. "I'm not here to fight you, Orochimaru," he said evenly, his voice steady. "I'm not bound by Konoha, and you're not experimenting on any Uzumaki now. I just want Pakura. Let her go, and I'll be on my way."

Orochimaru's golden eyes narrowed, his amusement fading into something darker. He could feel Naruto's chakra humming beneath the surface—dangerous, potent, and controlled. This wasn't the same naive boy from their last encounter. He had grown into something Orochimaru couldn't predict, something that made even him uneasy.

"How noble of you," Orochimaru sneered, though his grip on Kusanagi tightened. "But tell me, why should I let her go? She's worth a fortune to the Kazekage. Surely you don't think I'd pass up such an opportunity?"

Naruto's expression didn't change, but in an instant, the ground beneath Orochimaru erupted with a glowing seal matrix. Chains of emerald fire shot up from the earth, wrapping around his legs and arms. Orochimaru's eyes widened in shock as he jumped back, faster than Pakura had ever seen him move. His grin was gone, replaced by a flicker of genuine alarm.

"You're standing in my seals, again," Naruto said quietly, his voice calm but edged with finality.

Orochimaru struggled against the chains, his golden eyes flashing with fury. "You think these chains can hold me again?" he hissed, his voice filled with venom. "You've grown arrogant, just like your father!"

Naruto's gaze remained cold, unshaken. "I don't care what you think. Leave now, and this ends here. Pakura's coming with me."

For a moment, the entire forest seemed to hold its breath. The tension between the two men was palpable, thick in the air. Sasori, who had been watching silently, finally spoke, his voice emotionless. "Orochimaru, we can take him. His bounty is more than enough for the organization."

But Orochimaru's eyes remained locked on Naruto, something deeper flickering behind them—something close to fear. He let out a low, humorless laugh. "Very well, Naruto. Take her. But remember this—I'll be watching. Sasori, you can take your chances, but I won't be foolish enough to fight him here, where he has laid traps."

With a final, mocking grin, Orochimaru melted into the ground, his body dissolving into the earth like a snake retreating into its burrow. Sasori's puppets crumbled into a pile of wood and sand, and the puppet master himself vanished into the shadows without a word.

Pakura collapsed to the ground, her body trembling with exhaustion. She looked up at Naruto, who stepped forward, his expression softening as he extended a hand to her.

-xx-xx-

"You alright?" he asked, his voice no longer cold, but filled with genuine concern.

Pakura nodded, gasping for air. "I thought I was dead for sure. How did you make him back off like that?"

Naruto's lips twitched into a faint smile. "You almost were. Good thing I showed up when I did." His smile faded slightly, and he added, "As for Orochimaru... let's just say he remembers our last fight. Those chains—they're not as strong as before, but he didn't know that. It's something I sealed after our last conflict, just to scare him the next time."

Pakura let out a breathless laugh, her body sagging with relief. "I owe you one."

When Naruto bent down and scooped her up without warning, Pakura's breath caught in her throat. As his strong arms slid beneath her, one under her knees and the other pressing firmly against her back, his hand brushed lower than expected, grazing the curve of her waist before settling a little too close to her hip. A soft, involuntary gasp escaped her as she felt the brief, firm pressure against her, her face immediately heating up in response.

Her chest, still heaving from the earlier battle, pressed tightly against his as he pulled her closer. The fabric of her top did little to diminish the awareness of his solid frame against hers. Her pulse raced, and she could feel every heartbeat pounding in her ears. She wasn't used to this—being held like this, feeling vulnerable and... so close to him.

Her face flushed a deep crimson, and her mind raced to recover. "N-Naruto," she stammered, struggling to find her voice amidst the rush of warmth spreading through her, "I-I can walk, you know."

Naruto glanced down at her, that faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, clearly aware of the effect his actions had on her. "You could," he said, his voice teasing as his grip remained firm and steady, "but you're exhausted. Just let me do this."

Her cheeks burned hotter, the proximity between them overwhelming. She swallowed hard, trying to push the sensations aside, but the way his chest pressed against hers with each step only made her more aware of the growing tension between them.

In silence, she allowed herself to be carried, her mind a whirl of confusion and something she wasn't quite ready to admit.

-xx-xx-

Stay tuned for the next chapter of NTLHOS.

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NTLHOS: Chapter 62: The Great Escape is out!

NTLHOS: Chapter 63: The Bound Path And World Around IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 64- The Silence Of Wind Or Is It Life? IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 65: Realisation And Transformation IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 66: The Game Is ONN IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 67: A Storm Is Always Remains A Storm. IS OUT !

NTLHOS: Chapter 68: New threads of Influence is out!

NTLHOS: Chapter 69: Strategy- The Great Heist IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 70: Wrath of Darkness IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 71: "Echoes of Thunder IS OUT!

NTLHOS: Chapter 72: The Silent Rebellion IS OUT!

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