Naruto : Dragon Jinchuriki

Just at the moment when Riku and Kristian reached the shrine, Chiyo and Jiraiya were standing just before its entrance. A chilling tension filled the atmosphere as Chiyo's gaze darted nervousness toward the carved stone doors. She fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, her usual bouncy personality gone with quiet apprehension now filling her.

"You're not going in?" Riku asked, pausing a few steps away. Shiro the magpie hopped from his shoulder onto his head, spreading its wings to peek at the group.

Chiyo shook her head, not meeting his eye. "It's… overwhelming. I haven't seen her since I was young. What if she doesn't even recognize me?"

Jiraiya crossed his arms, his expression softer than usual. "She will, Chiyo. But no one's going to force you to walk in there until you're ready."

Kristian leaned slightly on his axe, glancing at the three of them. He hadn't said much since arriving and wasn't sure where he fit into this dynamic. "Your mom in there?" he asked, his tone blunt but not unkind.

Chiyo nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line.

"She's scared," Riku said casually, leaning against the stone railing. His words weren't cruel, just a matter of fact.

"Thanks for the obvious observation," Chiyo muttered, folding her arms across her chest.

"Just saying," Riku shrugged, tossing Shiro a small scrap of dried fruit from his pouch. "You'll regret it if you don't go in, though. I mean, it's your mom. Not like she's going to bite you or anything."

Chiyo glanced at him sharply. "You don't know anything about her."

"True," Riku admitted, unbothered. "But I know about regret. It sucks."

Kristian gave a low snort of amusement then, the first true reaction since they'd all congregated outside of the shrine. "You've got a way with words, don't you?"

Riku smirked, finally getting through to this guy. "One of my many talents."

Jiraiya looked at Kristian with interest. "And what about you? What brings you here?"

Kristian shrugged but didn't loosen his grip on his axe. "None of your business."

Riku's eyes narrowed slightly at Kristian's evasive answer, but he didn't press. Instead, he looked back at Chiyo. "Anyway, if you're too scared to go in, we can wait out here with you. No rush."

Chiyo's gaze softened at his words, and she offered a small smile. "Thanks... I think."

"Just saying it how it is," Riku said, leaning back with a lopsided grin. Shiro cawed in agreement, flapping to Riku's shoulder again.

Kristian adjusted the axe on his shoulder, glancing toward the door. "You might want to figure it out soon, though, Something tells me time isn't exactly on anyone's side."

His words fell and the group plunged into a silence, which felt heavy amidst the ancient weights of the shrine. Chiyo looked to the doors again, with a flicker of doubt in her eyes.

"Well if you won't, I'll just go see her myself" Riku and Kristian spoke at the same time, prompting Chiyo to wave her hands in protest.

"F—fine…" Chiyo finally said,

The heavy stone doors creaked open as Riku, Chiyo, Kristian, and Jiraiya stepped inside. Instantly, the air grew heavier, thick with the scent of incense and damp stone. Torches lined the walls, their flickering flames casting long, distorted shadows across the group.

No more than a few paces were taken before two guards appeared, each laced in ceremonial armor and spears tipped with intricate carvings. They crossed their weapons in unison, blocking the group's path.

"Halt!" the taller of the two commanded, his voice echoing through the chamber. "State your business."

Jiraiya raised a placating hand. "We're here to meet with Priestess Miroku. This is an important matter—"

"Silence," the shorter guard barked, glaring at the group. His gaze then fell on Kristian's axe, then Riku's Kiba blades and sheathed sword and narrowed further. "Who are you to approach the priestess armed like this?"

Kristian tensed, his grip tightening on the handle of his weapon. "I'm not leaving this behind," he muttered.

Before the situation could escalate, one of the guards turned his head, his gaze landing squarely on Chiyo. His stern expression wavered for a moment, then softened into something almost reverent. "It- can't be," he murmured.

The tall guard followed his companion's gaze and immediately took one backward step, lowering the spear. "Lady Shion?" he asked between shivering voice and gasp.

Chiyo blinked at him, confusion on her face. "Huh? What?"

They exchanged glances again then huddled into deep bows. "Our apologies, my lady," the tall one explained, "We didn't quite realize it was you. Please, forgive us."

Riku raised an eyebrow, shooting Jiraiya a confused look. The older man shrugged slightly, clearly just as perplexed. Kristian frowned, his eyes darting between the guards and Chiyo.

"Uh... I'm not—" Chiyo began, but the shorter guard interrupted her.

"There is no need for explanation, my lady," he said hastily. "We understand the call of discretion well enough. This way, please. The priestess will wish to see you at once."

"I think there's been a mistake-" Chiyo tried again, but Riku laid a restraining hand on her shoulder and eased her gently forward.

"Just go with it," he whispered.

Chiyo hesitated but allowed herself to be guided forward, the guards leading the way with their spears now held upright. Riku, Jiraiya, and Kristian followed closely behind, their expressions a mixture of confusion and curiosity.

As they walked deeper into the shrine, Riku leaned toward Jiraiya and muttered, "What do you think that's about?"

Jiraiya rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "If I had to guess, they think Chiyo is someone else. Someone important."

"Obviously," Kristian grumbled.

Riku shot him a look but didn't reply, his attention shifting back to Chiyo, he knew exactly where they got the idea from. She walked stiffly, clearly uncomfortable with the situation but too overwhelmed to argue further.

The group reached a large set of double doors, intricately carved with depictions of celestial beings and mythical beasts. The guards stepped aside, bowing deeply again as they gestured for Chiyo to enter.

"Lady Shion," one of them said reverently, "the priestess awaits you."

Chiyo glanced back at the others, her eye wide with uncertainty.

"Go on," Jiraiya encouraged. "We're right behind you."

Taking a deep breath, Chiyo pushed the doors open and stepped inside, the others close on her heels. Whatever was beyond those doors, it seemed one thing was for sure: things were about to get a great deal more complicated.

The tension in the room was palpable as Miroku, the priestess of the Land of Demons, eyed the group with razor-sharp suspicion. Her gaze settled onto Chiyo, who stood right behind Jiraiya, Kristian and Riku, clenching her hands tightly into fists at her sides. "What is this?" Miroku exclaimed, her voice commanding yet thick with skepticism. "Who are you, and for what reason have you come uninvited?"

Jiraiya stepped forward, attempting to lighten the mood with his usual charisma. "I apologize for intruding on you, Priestess. We mean no disrespect. We have come because—"

Miroku raised a hand to silence him and directed her gaze to Chiyo. "Who is this girl?"

Chiyo froze under her piercing gaze. She swallowed hard as her heart pounded in her chest. "My name is Chiyo," she said in a quiet voice. "I—"

"Chiyo?" Miroku's voice cut through with disbelief, her eyes turning hard. "You dare to claim that name?"

Standing beside her mother, Shion took one step forward, her eyes wide in confusion. "Mother, she… she looks like her," Shion whispered.

"That's impossible," Miroku said firmly. Her voice wavered slightly, but she masked it with authority. "Chiyo died years ago. This is no more than a cruel trick."

"It's not a trick!" Chiyo burst out, stepping forward. "I'm your daughter! I've come back!"

"Do not speak those lies," Miroku snapped. Her voice was trembling, but her posture didn't yield a step backward. "My Chiyo was taken from me long ago. You cannot expect me to believe you are her without proof."

Shion hesitated, her gaze darting between her mother and the girl who looked so much like her lost sister. "If… if you're really Chiyo," she said softly, "then tell us something only she would know."

Chiyo's mind raced, her memories scattered, fragmented by years of pain and uncertainty. "The garden," she said suddenly, "the one behind the shrine. You used to play there all the time. You'd… you'd bring me flowers, and we'd sit under the cherry blossom tree."

Shion's eyes widened, and she took a small step forward. "That tree… it was our favorite place," she murmured.

"Anyone could know that!" Miroku interrupted, her voice rising. She glared at Chiyo, incredulous. "Tell me something real. Something only my Chiyo could know."

Chiyo hesitated, her breathing shallow. She felt Riku's steady hand on her shoulder, grounding her. Her voice came out quiet but firm. "When I was scared, you used to hum to me," she said, her eyes locking onto Miroku's. "That song… the one about the moonlight. You'd say it would protect me."

Miroku's face faltered, her lips parting as if to speak, but no words came. The room was silent except for the sound of Shion's sharp inhale.

"Mother," Shion whispered, her voice trembling. "Could it… could it really be her?

Miroku took a slow step forward, her composure cracking. She reached an outstretched hand but stopped just short of Chiyo. Her voice barely reached above a whisper. "If you are truly my daughter… then why? Why now? Why after all these years?"

Chiyo's eyes brimmed with tears. "I don't know," she confessed. "I don't know why it took so long. But I've been trying to come back to you ever since I was taken."

There was so much emotion weighing upon the air as Miroku stared at her, warring between hope and incredulity.

"Prove it," Miroku whispered, her voice cracking. "Prove to me that you're my Chiyo."

Her mother's words cut deep into Chiyo's chest, and her mind raced, grasping at anything that might shatter that wall of doubt. The memory came, vague, yet unmistakable.

"Mother," Chiyo started, her voice barely above a whisper, "do you remember the bells you gave me and Shion? The one with the silver crescent moon?"

The slight widening of Miroku's eyes was quickly veiled by a guarded look.

"You never let us leave it behind or forget it," Chiyo continued, "but one night, I was sick. You stayed by my side, singing that lullaby about the moonlight to help me sleep. I kept asking why you insisted we kept them, and you finally told me. You said it was to keep me safe from my powers—that no matter how far apart we were, the bell would keep me safe."

Shion gasped softly. "Mother, that bell… I still have mine," she said, looking at Miroku.

Miroku's hand instinctively went to her neck, where her bell no longer hung. Slowly, she reached into the folds of her robe and pulled it out, holding it tightly in her trembling fingers.

Chiyo took a shaky step forward, her eyes fixed on the pendant. "I remember how warm it felt in my hand," she said. "You let me hold it until I fell asleep, That's was the last night I remember before…" She hesitated, tears brimming in her eyes. "Before I was taken."

Miroku's face crumpled as the words sank in. Her knees buckled, and Shion rushed to steady her.

"Mother," Shion said softly, her own voice trembling. "It's her. It has to be."

Miroku stared at Chiyo, her disbelief melting into anguish and hope. "My Chiyo," she whispered, tears streaming down her face. She reached out again, this time pulling Chiyo into a tight embrace.

Chiyo froze for a moment, then melted into her mother's arms, sobbing uncontrollably. "I'm sorry," she choked out. "I'm so sorry it took me so long to find you."

Miroku held her tightly, as if afraid to let go. "I thought I'd lost you forever," she whispered, her voice breaking. "My sweet girl, I thought you were gone."

Shion joined them, her small arms wrapping around both her mother and her newly found sister. The three of them stood there, bound together by grief, hope, and love.

Riku, Jiraiya and Kristian exchanged a glance, stepping back to give the family their moment. Riku whispered to Shiro, the magpie perched on his shoulder. "Guess we did the right thing coming here, huh?"

Jiraiya crossed his arms, his usual jovial expression replaced by something softer. "It's not every day you see a reunion like this," he murmured.

And Kristian just hummed.

As the room quieted, Miroku finally pulled back, cupping Chiyo's face in her hands. Her expression was a mixture of joy and sorrow. "There's so much I need to ask you," she said. "So much we need to understand. But first, I need to know… how did you survive?"

Chiyo wiped her tears and took a deep breath, her voice steadying. "It's a long story," she said, glancing briefly at Riku and Jiraiya. "But I'll tell you everything."

But the weight of emotions in the room suddenly shifted the moment Kristian stepped forward.

"You," Kristian said, his voice hoarse but sharp. His bloodshot blue eyes locked onto Miroku, filled with something far more potent than curiosity. "You're the priestess, right? The one who knows about the demon followers, The curses."

Miroku frowned, glancing at him warily. "I am," she replied carefully. "And who are you to question me?"

"I'm the son of a family you abandoned," Kristian snapped. His words cut through the air, and the room fell into an uneasy stillness. "The people your demon followers cursed."

Miroku's expression faltered, Shion's wide lavender eyes flicked nervously to her mother, then to the seemingly familiar Kristian, as if trying to piece together the gravity of his accusation. Chiyo stood frozen, caught between shock and confusion.

Kristian's breathing grew heavier as the memories resurfaced, unbidden. His parents—bedridden, frail, consumed by the curse. The twisted laughter of those responsible echoing in his mind. And then the sight of their broken bodies, the smell of blood, the crushing realization that he hadn't been strong enough to save them.

"They're dead," Kristian said, his voice trembling with barely suppressed rage. "Because of you. Because you couldn't stop your own people from spreading their poison. I watched them die. Slowly. Painfully. And you want to ask who I am?" He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. "I'm the one who's going to end this. That's who I am."

Miroku's face darkened. "I have no control over those who follow the demon path," she said slowly, though there was a trace of guilt in her tone. "But if what you're saying is true, then I—"

"Save it," Kristian interrupted, his voice cracking with raw emotion. His shoulders were taut, his frame trembling. "I don't care about your excuses. I don't care about your regrets. I want answers. I want to know how to stop this curse, how to destroy the people who ruined my family."

Riku, who had been silent up to this point, finally stepped in, his tone calm but firm. "Hey, easy," he said, stepping closer to Kristian. "We're all looking for something here. You're not the only one with questions."

Kristian's breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling with each strained breath. His blue eyes burned with anger and grief as he glared at Riku, the frustration spilling over. "You don't get it," he growled. "You don't know what it's like to lose everything—to watch your family die and not be able to do anything about it."

'Showtime.'

*Showtime.*

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of Kristian's words settling like a heavy blanket over everyone. Riku tilted his head slightly, his gaze softening—not with pity, but with understanding.

"You're wrong," Riku said quietly. His voice wasn't sharp, nor did it carry the smugness Kristian expected. Instead, it was laced with something that caught him off guard: sorrow. "I do know what it's like."

Kristian's glare faltered for the briefest moment. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice low and hesitant, as if he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer.

Riku's hands clenched at his sides, and his white eyes seemed distant, as though he were staring at something far away. "My entire clan was slaughtered," he said, his words steady but heavy with unspoken grief. "Everyone I cared about, everyone I knew... gone in a single night."

Kristian's fists loosened, his arms falling limply to his sides. His expression shifted from anger to something far more vulnerable—a mix of shock and recognition. "...How?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Riku exhaled, his gaze meeting Kristian's. "It doesn't matter," he said simply. "What matters is, I understand what it's like to carry that kind of pain. To want revenge so badly it's all you can think about." He paused, stepping closer to Kristian. "But I also know it won't bring them back."

Kristian swallowed hard, his throat tightening. His anger, which had burned so fiercely moments ago, now felt like a smoldering ember. He looked away, blinking rapidly as his vision blurred. "I didn't mean to...," he started, but his voice broke, and he stopped.

"It's okay," Riku said softly. He reached out, placing a hand on Kristian's shoulder. "You don't have to carry it alone. Not anymore."

For a moment, Kristian stood there, frozen. Then he nodded, the tension in his body slowly easing. He wiped at his face, his movements rough and hurried, before turning back toward the door. "Let's go," he muttered, his voice gruff but no longer angry.

Riku nodded, glancing at Chiyo and Jiraiya. "You two stay here," he said. "This is your moment. We'll be gone for a couple weeks."

Chiyo looked hesitant, her lavender eyes flicking between Riku and Kristian. "You're just leaving?" she asked, her voice soft.

"This is family stuff," Riku replied with a shrug, his tone lighter now. "You and your mom have a lot to talk about, and I think Jiraiya can help smooth things over." He gestured to Kristian, who was already halfway out the door. "We'll keep ourselves busy with training and stuff."

Chiyo hesitated but eventually nodded, offering Riku a small, grateful smile. "Thank you," she said quietly.

Riku gave her a two-fingered salute before turning to follow Kristian out of the room, Shiro fluttering from his shoulder to hover nearby. The two boys stepped into the hall, leaving Chiyo and Jiraiya behind to face Miroku.

Outside, the cool air seemed to settle the tension that had built inside. Kristian let out a shaky breath, his shoulders still stiff, though less so than before. "Your clan..." he said after a long pause, his voice trailing off as if he didn't know how to finish the sentence.

"Yeah," Riku said simply. "It's not something I talk about a lot."

Kristian nodded, his hands tightening around the haft of his axe. "Thanks," he muttered. "For not... I don't know. Saying something stupid."

Riku chuckled, the sound soft and genuine. "I'm good at reading the room," he said with a grin. "Let's just say I've had plenty of practice."

Kristian huffed a quiet laugh, the sound surprising even himself. For the first time in a long while, the anger in his chest didn't feel so suffocating.

The two continued walking, their footsteps echoing down the corridor. Whatever lay ahead, it seemed, they would face it together.