Naruto: The Chosen Undead

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Chapter no.7 The Weight of the Hat

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"Oh, yeah," Naruto said suddenly, as if the thought had just registered in his mind. "I killed Mizuki."

Hiruzen's heart skipped a beat. Naruto's tone was so casual, so detached, as if he had just realized he had killed an insect, not a man.

Hiruzen felt his breath catch in his throat, his lungs squeezed tight as he slowly let the air out. He hadn't expected this. In all his years as Hokage, in all the times he'd seen young shinobi grapple with their first kill, this was not the reaction he had prepared for. He had seen them cry, question their morality, break down in tears. Even those with darker tendencies, the ones they feared might turn, at least had some perverse reaction to their first taste of bloodshed.

But Naruto... Naruto's reaction was nothing. Just a shrug, like the life he took was insignificant. Like it didn't even matter.

This wasn't just unsettling. This was terrifying. Naruto's reaction wasn't that of a child coming to grips with the horrors of their world—it was the mindset of a killer. A true killer, who could end life and move on as if it were nothing. And it chilled Hiruzen to his core.

Hiruzen should be happy, right? Isn't this what every village hopes for? A perfect shinobi? Someone who doesn't break, who doesn't falter, who can do the job and move on without emotional baggage? But no... Hiruzen couldn't feel happy. He couldn't feel relief.

Because he had seen this before. He had seen this exact calm, this exact detachment, in Orochimaru. And that was all Hiruzen needed to know that this reaction from Naruto was not something he could accept.

Is this calm, this detachment, a response to trauma? Hiruzen's thoughts raced. He knew Naruto's loneliness better than anyone. He had always hoped, always believed, that Naruto would eventually overcome it, that he would find his place, his people.

Hiruzen considered forcing civilians to be Naruto's friends—that could have been disastrous—but now he was beginning to question his own judgment. Had I made a mistake by letting him face this alone for so long?

Because if this was a trauma response, then it was a deeply dangerous one. The thought twisted in Hiruzen's heart like a knife. He had spent so long thinking that Naruto would be strong enough to overcome the darkness that surrounded him, but now he wasn't so sure. What if the darkness has already started to take root?

The question loomed over Hiruzen like a storm cloud. Did Naruto have an innate desire to kill? Was this his nature now? Or was this just… enough?

Hiruzen wanted to believe it was enough. He wanted to believe this was the end of it. But deep down, he knew better. It's never enough. Not once someone has taken that step.

I need to consult Inoichi. There was no question about it anymore. Hiruzen needed help. Naruto needed help, whether he knew it or not. And Hiruzen wasn't going to let him fall through the cracks.

Not Like Orochimaru.

"Guess that's what demons do," Naruto muttered, and something in his tone made Hiruzen's heart lurch. There was a disgust there, but not for the word itself—it was for himself. Naruto spoke it like it was a truth he'd been forced to accept, and hearing it twisted something deep inside Hiruzen.

The old man wanted to pray that Naruto's indifference, this cold detachment, was just him playing a role—a child who had taken on the idea of being a "demon" too seriously, pretending it was true because others had told him it was. Please let that be the case, he thought. Let it be childish acting, and not the makings of a boy slipping into something darker.

"Naruto, you aren't a demon," Hiruzen said firmly, watching for his reaction. Naruto paused but didn't look at him.

"What did that traitor tell you?"

Naruto summarized the ordeal. His words were blunt, like he was reporting facts, not recounting a personal attack.

"You have to know the truth about your status," Hiruzen began carefully.

"My status?" Naruto's eyes focused now, his mind finally present.

"Mizuki told you that you were the Kyuubi," Hiruzen said, his voice low. "It's not true. You are the Kyuubi's jinchuriki."

"Jin… churiki?" Naruto repeated, stumbling over the word. It was foreign to him, strange.

"The Kyuubi wasn't killed," Hiruzen continued. "It was sealed inside of you as an infant."

"Me."

"Yes."

"But… but I…" He stammered, trying to piece it all together. "I'm not a demon, then?"

"Of course not, my boy!" Hiruzen's voice cracked with the force of his denial. He couldn't let Naruto believe that lie. "And allow no one to call you that!"

Hiruzen had hoped his words would comfort Naruto, reassure him. But instead, they opened a floodgate.

"Then… why? Why do they treat me like that?" Naruto's voice cracked, and Hiruzen could hear the weight of his loneliness, his isolation pressing down on him. The question hung in the air like a noose around Hiruzen's neck.

All the Third Hokage said was, "They fear you, Naruto. You are a reminder of the pain the Kyuubi caused."

There was a silence between them, one that cut deep. Hiruzen could see the questions swimming in Naruto's eyes, and then, finally, one slipped out.

"Why did they know, but I didn't?"

Hiruzen closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of his past decisions bearing down on him. "Seven years ago, I made a law forbidding anyone from speaking about your status," he said, his voice filled with regret. "I hoped it would allow you to live a normal life."

Naruto's reply hit Hiruzen like a kunai to the gut. "Look how good that turned out," Naruto said, his voice empty, bitter. The words made Hiruzen wince, and he couldn't argue. He had failed him.

"Hokage-sama." The title slipped from Naruto's lips like poison, and Hiruzen felt his blood run cold. Naruto had never called him that before.

Did I just lose him?

Hiruzen's mind blanked for a moment, panic surging in the pit of his stomach. He nodded, trying to keep his composure, even as the weight of that title—Hokage—pressed down on him like a stone.

"Why did you tell them and not me?"

Hiruzen tried to gather himself, to find some way to explain, to fix what he had broken. "I… I didn't. I was trying to protect you."

Hiruzen's voice wavered, the weight of his years pressing harder than ever. But before he could say more, he felt it—Naruto's chakra flaring outward like a dense, unrestrained aura.

The sheer fact that Naruto could manifest his chakra outward like this, even unconsciously, spoke volumes about its density. It was raw, wild, and driven entirely by emotion rather than control. As expected of an Uzumaki.

But there was something else. Something wrong.

Hiruzen's eyes narrowed. He could feel traces of foreign Yin chakra mingled with Naruto's own—a sharp, invasive energy that sent a shiver down his spine.

Killer intent?!

In the shinobi world, killer intent wasn't just an expression of malice. It was an imprint, a lingering stain left on one's chakra by the souls of those they'd killed. The more lives taken, the more foreign Yin accumulated. For experienced killers, this buildup could reach a threshold where their chakra alone could induce fear or genjutsu. It was both a mark of accomplishment and a warning to others.

So why, in the name of the Sage of Six Paths, was Naruto's chakra laced with such foreign Yin?

Yes, Naruto had killed—but just once. One kill wasn't enough to leave such a potent mark. And yet, Hiruzen could feel it: foreign Yin chakra so thick it rivaled some seasoned shinobi who had survived wars. Worse still, there was something primal about Naruto's killer intent—an edge to it that felt like a deep, insatiable hunger.

The realization unsettled him.

Hiruzen forced himself to push the thought aside. Now wasn't the time to dwell on it. Right now, Naruto needed his focus. The rest could be addressed later.

"I did protect you," Hiruzen said, his voice rougher than he intended. Naruto paused at the door but didn't turn. The silence between them was thick, suffocating.

"A Jinchuriki isn't something unique to Konoha," Hiruzen continued, his voice steadier now, desperate to make Naruto understand. "All five great villages have their own. In Sunagakure, their Jinchuriki is physically and mentally abused, tormented from the moment they can remember."

Hiruzen had made sure of that—made sure Naruto was protected, even when he didn't know it. He had ensured that no one could touch him in those early years, that no one could harm him physically. But emotional scars? The ones that came from isolation, from the whispered insults, the glares, the loneliness... He hadn't protected Naruto from that, and it gnawed at him now.

The silence between them grew heavier. Hiruzen couldn't even begin to guess what was going on in Naruto's mind. Was he angry? Hurt? Confused?

"Thanks for being a decent human," Naruto muttered, his tone cold, detached. It was a stab to Hiruzen's heart.

The Hokage winced. Naruto wasn't wrong. He'd done the bare minimum—kept him alive, made sure he wasn't openly abused. But was that enough?

No!

After the Kyuubi attack, the village had been in such a fragile state. Kumo had been threatening war, there was the Uchiha situation festering like a wound, and then there was Danzo… Always Danzo, always scheming.

His plate had been full—overflowing, really. But that didn't excuse it. Hiruzen still should have done better. Naruto deserved better.

I failed you, Kushina. I failed you, Minato.

Goddamn this stupid hat and its responsibilities. Hiruzen cursed silently, feeling the old frustrations bubbling beneath the surface. He was an old man, for the Sage's sake! He had led this village for over fifty years. He hadn't even had time to properly mourn his wife and children's deaths, and here he was, still leading, still trying to keep everything from crumbling. His bones ached with the weight of it all, but he couldn't stop.

And yet…

None of it mattered in this moment. None of my sacrifices, none of my excuses.

The sound of the doorknob turning snapped Hiruzen out of his thoughts. He looked up and saw Naruto, ready to leave. His heart lurched in his chest. No. Not like this. Not again.

In one last desperate attempt, Hiruzen spoke. "I didn't tell the village about you."

Naruto stopped, turning slowly to face him, his expression unreadable. His eyes asked the question his lips didn't: Who?

"After you were born, the Fourth Hokage—Minato—wanted you to be seen as a hero. The hero who kept the village safe."

Naruto snorted at that, a bitter, hollow sound.

Hiruzen couldn't blame him.

Minato, bless his soul, had always been too trusting of the village, too hopeful. He had believed in the people's ability to see past their grief and pain, to see the sacrifice that had been made. But they hadn't. They couldn't.

"The people couldn't accept it," Hiruzen continued, his voice softer now. "Seeing the level of pain and grief the village was in, they wouldn't honor Minato's dying request. They were too consumed by their own hurt, their own fears. So I kept it a secret. I waited, hoping you'd grow into it, that you'd be ready to bear that truth when the time came. But… by the time you were five, the secret was leaked. And I had to make my law to stop it from spreading any further."

Hiruzen watched Naruto, hoping—praying—that something, anything he said would reach him. He had made so many mistakes before, with Asuma, with Orochimaru, with Tsunade.

Every time, he'd let things go too far. Every time, he thought he could wait.

That things would fix themselves if he just gave them time.

But that was Hiruzen's greatest failing. Not stepping in sooner. Not stopping the damage before it was too late.

And now, standing here, watching Naruto's expression harden, the old man feared he was too late again.

Naruto raised his hand, and as Hiruzen watched, his skin lightened, turning ashen. That's when Hiruzen felt it—heat. The air in the room grew thick, heavy, like the very oxygen was burning away. Instinctively, he licked his lips, but they were already dry, parched by the sudden change. The temperature climbed quickly, almost unnaturally.

What in the world?

Hiruzen had mastered all five chakra natures, earning a reputation as perhaps the greatest authority on chakra manipulation in the world. Yet, as he watched the small fireball flicker and pulse in Naruto's hand, a chill ran down his spine.

It wasn't the fireball itself that unnerved him. By all accounts, it was a low B-rank jutsu—impressive for Naruto's age, but not dangerous to someone of Hiruzen's caliber. No, what shook him was the nature of the fireball. It defied the very principles of Fire Style jutsu.

Hiruzen sharpened his senses, extending his chakra outward instinctively, the way he always did when studying new techniques. It was a habit born of his years as the "Professor," a desire to understand even the most obscure jutsus. But as his senses enveloped Naruto, he froze.

The fireball wasn't the issue. It wasn't what made his heart skip a beat.

It was the flame in Naruto's hand.

The moment his senses brushed against it, Hiruzen recoiled. This wasn't chakra being molded into fire. No, this flame was alive. It pulsed with a life of its own, erratic and untamed, like something dragged screaming from the depths of an abyss.

The flame wasn't warm. It was hungry.

It writhed and twisted, not like a jutsu but like a living, breathing thing, a predator searching for prey. Its presence was oppressive, a gnawing weight that pressed against Hiruzen's own fire chakra. He felt his flames—his mastery over fire that he had spent decades honing—being smothered as though snuffed out by this alien force.

The sensation was unnatural, a creeping wrongness that felt less like fire and more like something that had crawled out of a nightmare. The flame seemed to watch him, though it had no eyes. It didn't belong in this world, and yet here it was, clinging to Naruto's hand like a second skin.

For the first time in years, Hiruzen felt true fear.

What is this? What is happening to Naruto? Is this linked to the Kyuubi?!

His thoughts raced, but he found no answers. He would need to contact Jiraiya immediately. If the Kyuubi's influence had somehow warped Naruto's chakra or manifested in this… thing, they needed to act fast. But right now, there was no time to deliberate as one of his ANBU guards immediately reacted, appearing in front of Hiruzen in a blur of motion, forming a rapid handsign to erect a protective barrier. Meanwhile, another ANBU sprang toward Naruto, weapons ready, intent on restraining the boy before the flame could spiral further out of control.

But in a move that left Hiruzen speechless, Naruto reacted before the Anbu's blade could even come close. His movements were fluid, instinctive, as though he could see the Anbu coming—twisting on the balls of his feet, deflecting the attack with a grace and precision far beyond his years. And then, in the blink of an eye, he was about to fireball the Anbu point-blank.

No!

In that instant, Hiruzen unleashed his Killer Intent.

Everything in the room froze. The air itself seemed to stop, and all eyes were drawn to him. Naruto, the Anbu—all of them—were caught in the illusion Hiruzen had cast, an illusion born from decades of war and death. Before their eyes was a mountain of corpses, each one a life Hiruzen had taken, each one a testament to the blood he had spilled. And there, atop that mountain, he sat like the Monkey King, gazing down upon them.

"Dismissed," Hiruzen said coldly, his voice leaving no room for argument.

The Anbu vanished, leaving only Hiruzen and Naruto. Hiruzen watched as the boy stood there, slightly shaken but holding himself together better than most would have. Even chunin couldn't have responded like that to an Anbu— even if the Anbu was holding back—but Naruto? He did.

And then Hiruzen's eyes caught something—an axe, shimmering in Naruto's hand. He blinked, and it disappeared. Space-time ninjutsu?

No, impossible. Naruto couldn't possibly know a space-time jutsu, could he? Hiruzen nearly laughed at the absurdity of the thought, but the question still gnawed at him. 

I need to contact Jiraya immediately.

Before Hiruzen finished that thought, Naruto's voice cut through the silence.

"Where's the guy that ruined my life?"

Hiruzen's heart clenched. He knew who Naruto meant—Danzo. Damn that man. Even in banishment, his shadow loomed over them all. Hiruzen spoke quickly, keeping his voice steady. "I've dealt with him."

Naruto wasn't satisfied with the answer—Hiruzen could see it in his eyes. Naruto turned to leave again, his hand already on the door. Desperate to understand where they stood, Hiruzen asked, "Naruto, I've never seen that fire jutsu before. Can you tell me how you learned it?"

It wasn't the fire jutsu that truly intrigued Hiruzen, though he needed to know about it. What he really wanted to know was how that axe had appeared and disappeared. The fire jutsu was a puzzle, yes, but the axe… That was something else entirely. He asked the question to see where he stood with Naruto now. Was he still his Jiji? Or had that bond been severed, lost in the whirlwind of secrets and pain?

The silence stretched, heavy and unbearable. Hiruzen watched Naruto's back, hoping for something—anything—that might reassure him that the boy he once knew was still there.

But Naruto didn't even turn around.

His response hit Hiruzen like a slap to the face. "Fuck off!"

Hiruzen stood there in stunned silence as the door slammed shut, the sound echoing through the office. Slowly, he closed his eyes, trying to collect himself. Naruto's words, his anger—it was like a dagger in Hiruzen's chest, twisting deeper with every second. I've lost him. Kami, I've lost him.

Hiruzen looked down at his old, weathered hands, at the smoking pipe still resting on his desk, and then at the portraits of the Hokage hanging on the wall. His gaze lingered on the fourth picture—the bright blue eyes, the spiky blond hair, the jaw-length bangs that belonged to Minato Namikaze.

You should be here, Hiruzen thought bitterly. You should be wearing this hat, not me.