Naruto: I wake up as a uchiha during the massicar

Chapter 5, Part 1: Conversations by the River and the cult of yūen

Haruto's POV

"H-hello?" I stammered, my voice awkward and shaky.

The woman before me giggled softly, a sound so melodic it made my ears burn. It was rare for me to be so nervous, but here I was, fumbling like a fool. In my past life, women barely noticed me. With average looks, a less-than-stellar physique, and no stable future, I had never been someone women sought after. Dating was a distant dream.

This moment, standing before Momo—her beauty, her serene presence—felt like stepping into another world, one that felt both intimidating and unreachable.

"No need to be nervous, mister ninja." She smiled warmly, tilting her head slightly in a playful manner. "My name is Momo. What's yours?"

Her gaze was kind but curious, and I felt the weight of her attention pressing on me.

"Uh, well… my name is Haruto Uc—" I stopped myself abruptly, my instincts kicking in. Revealing my full name, especially with the Uchiha clan's reputation, could be dangerous.

Momo raised an eyebrow, her curiosity deepening.

"Just Haruto," I corrected myself quickly, trying to act nonchalant.

She giggled again, a hand delicately covering her mouth. "Okay, just Haruto. What are you doing here?" she teased lightly, a sparkle of mischief in her eyes.

I caught the joke and raised an eyebrow. "Really? Firstly, I know you're joking, so stop. Secondly, I was just relaxing here before you decided to unkindly disturb me." I replied, trying to match her playful tone.

"Oh, my deepest apologies, Haruto-sama," she said mockingly, bowing her head dramatically before breaking into another giggle.

I couldn't help but smirk. "No need to apologize. But thank you. The old man told me it was you who found me by the river and asked him to save me, even though I'm a ninja." My tone softened at the end, gratitude seeping through my words.

Momo's smile became more genuine. "You're welcome. But how are you feeling now? Did the herbs work?"

Her concern felt genuine, and it warmed something inside me. I nodded. "I'm feeling much better now, thanks to you."

"Good." She clasped her hands together, visibly relieved.

For a moment, there was a comfortable silence between us. I glanced around, taking in the serene environment. The river glistened in the sunlight, its gentle flow creating a soothing melody. Beyond it, the fields stretched far, dotted with farmers toiling away. Children laughed and played in the distance, their carefree joy contrasting with the harsh realities of the world.

"So, this is the Land of Rivers?" I asked, my gaze lingering on the peaceful scenery. "It's… different."

Momo nodded, her expression softening as she looked at the same view. "Yes, it's peaceful, isn't it? But sadly, peace doesn't last long here."

Something about her tone made me turn to her. Her expression had darkened, sadness clouding her eyes.

"Why do you say that?" I asked gently, sensing a deeper story behind her words.

She sighed, her shoulders drooping slightly. "The answer is simple: war. The Land of Rivers is caught between two powerful nations—the Land of Fire and the Land of Wind. During times of war, our small nation becomes their battlefield. Ninjas from both sides come here to fight their wars, killing each other and destroying everything in their path."

I listened silently as her voice grew quieter, tinged with pain.

"In the process, we civilians lose everything—our homes, our families, our lives. The ninjas also take whatever they need—food, supplies, anything—and if we refuse, they kill us without hesitation."

Her words hung heavily in the air, each one painting a bleak picture of the reality she had lived through.

"That's why the others didn't want to help you," she added, her gaze meeting mine. "You're a ninja. For most people here, ninjas mean danger."

Her explanation made sense, but it only deepened my respect for her. "Then why did you help me?" I asked, genuinely curious.

Momo's expression softened again, her lips curling into a small smile. "Because you looked like someone who needed help," she said simply. "And I was taught to help those in need, no matter who they are."

Her words struck a chord in me, and I couldn't help but admire her compassion. In a world so filled with cruelty, people like her were rare—a beacon of light in the darkness.

We sat there quietly after that, watching the river flow and the villagers go about their lives. For a moment, it felt like time had slowed, the world pausing to grant us this peaceful interlude.

But the sound of hurried footsteps broke the silence. Someone was running toward us, their small feet splashing in the mud as they approached.

Both Momo and I turned to see a young boy racing toward us. He looked no older than five, his messy black hair bouncing with every step. His face was bright, but something about his movements seemed unusual—clumsy, almost hesitant.

The boy reached Momo and immediately hugged her tightly, burying his face in her lap.

"Ah… ah… hu!" he made soft sounds, his voice strained and incomprehensible.

I blinked in confusion. "Who's this?" I asked, glancing at Momo.

She smiled down at the boy, her hand gently patting his head. "This is Jin," she said. "My son."

For a moment, I thought I misheard her. "Your… son?" I repeated dumbly.

She nodded, still focused on the boy. "Yes. He's mute, so he can't speak like other children. But he's a sweet boy."

My brain felt like it had short-circuited. Her son? The one girl I had found myself liking in this world turned out to already have a child. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks.

My luck in this life was just as bad as my luck in the previous one.

"Don't look so shocked," Momo teased, her voice adopting a playful lilt. "What? Did you think I wasn't capable of being a mother?"

"I… uh…" My words got caught in my throat, my face heating up in embarrassment.

She chuckled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Ara ara, Haruto-kun. You're surprisingly adorable when you're flustered."

I froze, my mind going blank at her words.

Ara ara?!

Momo's soft laugh echoed in my ears as I struggled to process everything. Her playful tone, her maternal warmth, her stunning looks—it was too much. And now, with her son clinging to her side, I couldn't help but feel the weight of reality crashing down on me.

This world truly wasn't going to make things easy for me.

---

Deep underground, far from the prying eyes of the surface world, lay an ancient temple. The air was thick with an oppressive aura, the very atmosphere seeming to hum with unseen power. The massive stone doors at the entrance, engraved with intricate symbols of an ancient and forgotten language, opened to reveal a vast chamber lit only by the faint glow of ethereal blue torches mounted along the walls.

The chamber's centerpiece was a towering statue, a grotesque and awe-inspiring figure carved from black stone. The creature's likeness was otherworldly, its six arms raised as if in mockery of heaven, its face hidden beneath a crown-like helm. The beast's mouth was frozen in a terrifying grin, rows of jagged teeth carved with unnerving detail.

This was the idol of Yūen, the god of the end—a being of calamity and destruction worshipped by only the most fanatical. Surrounding the statue, dozens of robed figures kneeled on the cold, uneven stone floor, their heads bowed in reverence. Each wore a tattered black cloak adorned with crimson runes that pulsed faintly in the dim light.

At the front of the congregation stood a man in priest-like robes, his garb more elaborate than the others. His robes, a deep black with crimson embroidery resembling flowing blood, swayed slightly as he raised his hands. His face was partially hidden by a dark hood, but his crimson eyes gleamed beneath it. His presence radiated authority and fanaticism.

"Today," the priest began, his voice echoing through the chamber, "we, the devoted followers of Yūen, the God of the End, gather for our daily prayer and offering."

The cultists murmured in unison, their voices a haunting echo that filled the room.

The priest stepped closer to the statue, his movements slow and deliberate. "As decreed by the sacred text, I, the Grand Priest of Yūen, shall now speak the sacred words to call upon his blessings and guidance."

He began chanting in a strange, guttural language—an eldritch tongue that seemed to distort the air around him. The cultists followed suit, their voices rising and falling in unison with his. The language was incomprehensible, but its power was undeniable. The torches flickered violently, casting monstrous shadows that seemed to writhe along the walls.

The chanting continued for several minutes before the priest lowered his arms. The cultists ceased their chanting, bowing their heads deeply toward the statue.

"It is done," the priest declared, his voice reverent. He turned to a stone basin near the statue, lifting a large bucket filled with a thick, red liquid. He began pouring the liquid into smaller cups, distributing them among the cultists. Each took a cup and drank deeply, their eyes alight with fanaticism as they consumed the substance.

Once the ritual was complete, the priest addressed the congregation again. "The lord has tasked us with a mission—a sacred duty to find him the perfect vessel. A child, untainted and pure, who can withstand the divine essence of Yūen and serve as his avatar in this world."

The cultists nodded solemnly, some whispering prayers under their breath.

"For many years, we have searched the farthest corners of the world, sacrificing countless children who failed to meet the criteria, as per the lord's command." His voice grew darker, filled with both reverence and disdain. "But none were worthy."

Murmurs of disappointment rippled through the crowd.

The priest raised a hand, silencing them. "However, hope is not lost. One of our loyal followers in the Land of Rivers has discovered a child who fits the lord's description. This child bears the mark—the mark of our god!"

Gasps and whispers erupted among the cultists. Some raised their hands in praise, while others wept tears of joy.

"Silence!" the priest commanded, and the room fell quiet instantly. His voice carried an ominous authority as he continued. "I will send five of our most skilled warriors to retrieve this child. They will bring him here safely, unharmed and untouched, so that he may fulfill his destiny as the vessel of Yūen."

As he finished speaking, five figures appeared behind him in a flash, their movements silent and precise. They wore gray cloaks, their faces obscured by eerie masks that resembled distorted human faces—like hollow shells of emotion. The masks bore intricate markings that radiated faint energy, reminiscent of ANBU but far more sinister.

The central figure of the five, taller and broader than the others, stepped forward and knelt before the priest. His deep voice echoed in the chamber. "What are your orders, Grand Priest?"

The priest turned to him, his crimson eyes gleaming. "Go to the Land of Rivers. Meet with the follower who has identified this child. Confirm the mark. Bring the child back to this temple. Ensure no harm comes to his body or soul."

The masked figures bowed deeply. "As you command," the central figure said.

Without another word, the five figures disappeared, vanishing into the shadows as if they had never been there.

The Grand Priest turned back to the congregation. "Rejoice, my brethren. Soon, our lord's return shall be upon us. And with it, the end of this cursed world."

The cultists raised their hands toward the statue, their voices ringing out in another haunting chant. The temple resonated with their words, the air growing colder as if the very room itself responded to their devotion.

Far above, the world remained unaware of the darkness stirring beneath its surface. But the gears of fate had begun to turn, and the shadows of Yūen's followers crept ever closer to their chosen target.

---

To be continued ...