Naruto: The Chosen Undead

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Chapter no.36 A Letter in Red

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In the outer ring of Konoha's civilian district, amidst unassuming shops and buildings, lay a small, nondescript bar tucked between a bakery and a butcher shop. Its wooden sign swung slightly in the breeze, the kanji for Willow Rest visible under the moonlight. Inside, the bar was dimly lit, its air thick with the quiet murmur of patrons nursing drinks. A cloaked figure entered, leaning slightly on a cane. Shimura Danzo had returned to Konoha.

The bartender froze, his hand tightening on the glass he was polishing, before quickly bowing. Without a word, Danzo moved toward the back of the establishment. His cane tapped against the wooden floor in rhythmic intervals. He paused before a worn brick wall, his lone eye scanning it until his cane tapped three times in a circular motion. A faint glow appeared, spiderwebbing into a complex sealing array. The bricks began to shift, twisting and rearranging themselves. Slowly, a narrow door materialized, creaking open to reveal a stairway descending into darkness.

Danzo stepped through without hesitation, the door sealing itself behind him with a quiet hum. The stairway opened into a vast underground chamber, lit by lanterns casting eerie shadows on the damp stone walls. Hundreds of masked figures appeared seemingly from nowhere, kneeling silently as their collective voice echoed in unison:

"The unseen ones who support the great tree of Konoha from the depths of the earth. We are the Root."

Danzo's expression remained as stoic as ever. With a single, deliberate tap of his cane, the masked figures stood, silent and awaiting orders. At the center of the room stood a high-ranking Root operative, their mask etched with intricate patterns marking their rank. They held a scroll in their hands, bowing as Danzo approached.

"Report."

"Lord Danzo, the target has been under continuous surveillance. Sai has compiled a detailed report. Agent Sai, step forward."

From the shadows, Sai flickered into existence, kneeling with mechanical precision. "Lord Danzo," Sai said, his tone devoid of emotion.

"Deliver your findings," Danzo commanded, unfurling the scroll and scanning its contents with his lone eye.

"Target Uzumaki Naruto has been observed in his home, his classroom, and in various public interactions. I have documented all noteworthy behaviors, relationships, and rumors surrounding him. The first section includes detailed points of interest."

Danzo's gaze lingered on the mention of Naruto's team: Hatake Kakashi, Uchiha Sasuke, Haruno Sakura.

Kakashi… Danzo muttered internally. Proceed with caution. That man sees too much.

He moved on, his expression hardening as he read about Naruto's display of killer intent. He tapped his cane again, sharp and deliberate.

"Agent Fu."

Another masked figure materialized from the shadows. "Yes, Lord Danzo?"

"Erase any civilian memories of Naruto's killer intent."

The words hung in the dim chamber, cold and final. The Root operatives didn't flinch, didn't hesitate. They simply nodded. Danzo calculated that the clan shinobi would keep such knowledge contained. Their loyalties were bound by tradition, honor, and the subtle fear of losing face within Konoha's strict hierarchies. They would whisper, certainly, but only within the confines of their compounds. Their suspicions wouldn't reach the streets.

Civilians, however, were a different matter entirely.

They were Konoha's weakest link—a necessary part of the village but untrained, undisciplined, and dangerously prone to gossip. Whispers among traders at the market or murmurs over sake in the taverns could spread like wildfire, twisting and growing with every retelling. By the time those whispers reached other ears—ears outside Konoha, perhaps—they could turn into something uncontrollable.

Naruto's killer intent wasn't just a threat to his enemies; it was a threat to Konoha's image itself. A boy who was already mistrusted and feared by many civilians now showing killer intent? That wasn't a narrative Danzo could afford to let take root.

"Understood."

Danzo rolled the scroll shut, his grip tightening slightly. He stared into the shadows, his voice calm but heavy with authority.

"Sai. Fu. Analyze Uzumaki's mental state. Draft a letter. It must encourage trust and curiosity. No lies."

"The truth, Lord Danzo?" Sai asked.

Danzo's gaze shifted to him, piercing. "Yes. The truth wounds deeper than any lie. Use it carefully."

Normally, the answer would be simple. If there was information to gather, he would extract it cleanly and thoroughly. Root operatives were experts in such matters. A mind could be unraveled with Yamanaka techniques, every thread of knowledge plucked clean and cataloged. Failing that, he had other methods.

Kotoamatsukami.

It was the ultimate tool of manipulation, one that could not be traced or resisted. A single command, flawlessly embedded, would turn even the most unruly soul into a loyal servant. With it, he could plant the seeds of allegiance deep in Naruto's mind. He could sculpt the boy into exactly what Konoha needed—a weapon with no equal, bound to the village and to Danzo himself.

But this was not a luxury he could indulge.

Danzo's eye flickered toward the masked figures kneeling before him, their stoic silence awaiting his orders.

The Kyuubi.

It always came back to the Kyuubi. The beast complicated everything. Its presence in the boy's body created a barrier of unpredictability. The sealing process that tied it to Naruto was layered with intricate protections crafted by the Yondaime. Any attempt to interfere with Naruto's mind—even subtly—risked destabilizing that seal. To gamble on such an approach would be reckless, even by his standards.

And then there was the boy himself.

Danzo didn't yet understand the scope of Naruto's new abilities. The sheer weight of his presence during combat reports. It wasn't just the Kyuubi anymore; the boy was becoming something else. Something unknown. And Danzo knew better than anyone that the unknown was dangerous.

No, Naruto could not be manipulated the way others could. Not yet.

"Root exists to serve Konoha. This mission is no different. Do not fail."

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As Naruto trudged through the streets of Konoha, the quiet stopped being soothing. Rather, it was suffocating, pressing down on him like a heavy weight he couldn't shake. He felt like a foreigner in his own village.

"Humans," he muttered bitterly, kicking a loose pebble that skittered across the cobblestones. A humorless laugh escaped his throat, raw and sharp. He'd rather face a horde of Hollows or even a demon than deal with people. Monsters, at least, were straightforward. They didn't hide their intentions behind fake smiles or whispered insults.

The sting of tears burned at the corners of his eyes, but he blinked them away quickly. He wasn't weak. He didn't have time to be. Emotions won't keep me alive; focus will. He reminded himself of that as he walked toward his house, his pace quickening as if he could outrun the storm in his head.

When he finally reached his apartment, something caught his attention immediately. A red envelope, bright against the dull wood of his front door, was pinned in place with a thin kunai.

Naruto froze, his hand hovering over the doorframe. His eyes darted to the rooftops, to the shadows pooling in the alleys, but there was nothing. No chakra signatures, no signs of lingering presence. Whoever had left it had long since gone.

A frown creased his brow as he pulled the envelope free. The kunai was clean and ordinary, the kind anyone in the village might carry. The envelope itself was neatly folded, almost pristine, with writing on the front in small, careful handwriting:

To Naruto, from a secret friend.

Naruto's stomach tightened, the frown deepening. Secret friend? It could mean anything—a threat, a trap, or just another cruel joke. He had no shortage of people in the village who'd take a cheap shot at him under the guise of kindness.

For a moment, he considered throwing it away, but curiosity won out. He shoved the envelope into his pocket and unlocked his door.

Inside, the small space felt colder than usual. It always did when he returned alone after a long day. He shrugged off his armor, setting it down carefully by the wall, and dropped onto his worn couch. The letter felt heavy in his hand, far more than its weight should have been.

Why do I even care? he thought bitterly, running his thumb over the edge of the envelope. But he did care. No matter how many times the world spat on him, a small part of him still wanted to believe there was something good waiting for him. Something worth trusting.

He unfolded the letter with steady hands, though his mind churned with unease. The paper was smooth, almost unnaturally so, like whoever wrote it had gone out of their way to make it perfect. And then his eyes landed on the first line, and his breath hitched.

[ Hello there, Naruto. You don't know me, but I know you. I was a great friend of your parents. ]

He froze.

My parents... He'd never really thought about them. Not deeply. He knew they had to exist, but he never let himself wonder. It was easier to accept they were gone, probably in the Kyuubi attack or something. But now, this "friend" decides to contact him? Why now? Where were they the last decade or so?

He read on, his fingers tightening on the letter.

[ I'm sure you have many questions, but unfortunately, I must keep myself hidden, in the shadows, to keep you safe… to keep your parents' legacy safe. But, Naruto, I can tell you this: your parents would be proud of the man you've become. ]

A strange, stinging warmth filled his chest, and he felt tears pricking at his eyes. Proud?!

The thought that his parents, who he'd never met, might feel proud of him was… overwhelming. He blinked hard, biting his lip to keep himself together.

[ Naruto, I want you to know this, but you must not trust Hiruzen Sarutobi. That man has kept a lot from you—more than you even know. ]

He drew in a sharp breath, the name jolting him back to the present. Hiruzen…? Naruto glanced at the old man's apology, fresh in his memory, still stinging like salt on a wound. The letter's words felt like they were feeding on every bit of anger, every ounce of frustration he'd been holding onto.

[ I know this is sudden, but with the lies Hiruzen has fed you, I know my time has come. I can't help you directly—if I did, Hiruzen would try to kill me. I can only provide you with information, the truth about who you are, Naruto Uzumaki. Don't you want to know? ]

He felt a lump rise in his throat.

Who am I?

He'd been searching for that answer his whole life. The old man never told him anything. He didn't even know his parents' names. Everything he thought he knew about himself felt like it was slipping through his fingers, and he had no idea what was real anymore.

Naruto stared at the letter, his jaw tightening as his eyes scanned the words again.

[ Naruto, you have two choices before you. Below this sentence is a storage seal where I've stored the first answer. ]

His gaze dropped to the intricate storage seal below the writing. The faintest shimmer danced across its surface, as though it was holding something that wanted to be free.

The next line, however, stopped him cold.

[ Even if you choose the second option of not opening the seal, let me tell you this—the Uzumaki are the only people who can hold the Kyuubi. ]

Naruto's fingers twitched, the letter crinkling slightly as he clenched his fist. That one line—it was deliberate, a hook buried deep in his curiosity. It wasn't just some vague hint or cryptic phrase. It was a fact, one he didn't fully understand, but it dangled in front of him like a carrot on a stick. Whoever had written this knew exactly how to bait him.

And it was working.

[ The choices are simple. Don't open the seal, and the story ends. You go on believing whatever lies Hiruzen wants you to believe. Or, open the seal, and I'll show you how deep the rabbit hole goes. ]

His hands shook as he stared down at the seal.

A war raged inside him—one side demanding he find out, the other reminding him of every lie he'd been told, every half-truth, every door slammed in his face. But the choice was clear. He had to know.

Whatever it takes, I'm done with half-truths.

Naruto poured his chakra into the seal, expecting the usual swirl of smoke. But instead, the letter suddenly burst into flames. He jerked back, and there, in his hands, he found himself holding a book with a note attached to the front. He pulled it off, reading the words with a mix of curiosity and unease.

[ Naruto, you chose wisely. I know you're hungry for more, but I want to test you—to see if you're truly ready for answers that are considered village secrets. Information that can cause war... like who your parents are. ]

He swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around the note.

War? Just knowing my parents could do that? The thought sent a shiver down his spine.

[ Naruto, your test is simple. Keep our conversations a secret. No one must know that you're receiving this information. I know it will be hard; I know you want to demand the truth from Hiruzen. But don't. Don't give that liar a chance to fool you. ]

His jaw clenched as he read that. That liar. If there was even a shred of truth to this, maybe it was time to stop trusting what he thought he knew.

[ Naruto, I want you to remain silent for the next month, and then you'll receive information about who your mother is. If you can't do that, if you tell Hiruzen or anyone else, I won't help you. Don't disappoint me, Naruto. From your friend, from your guardian, the Hawk of Konoha. ]

Naruto stared at the note, the words blurring as his grip tightened. The Hawk of Konoha. He turned the phrase over in his mind, tasting the bitterness it left behind. A "friend"? A "guardian"? No. This was no ally. He couldn't afford to believe that.

A part of him wanted to laugh—sharp, hollow, and humorless. Trust? After everything? After all the stares, the whispers, the betrayals, the endless solitude? The very idea was a cruel joke.

And yet… somewhere, buried under the layers of his resentment, something desperate clawed at him. Maybe, just maybe, this time will be different.

He hated that part of himself. Hated the hope that still flickered like a stubborn ember, refusing to die no matter how hard he tried to smother it.

His gaze fell to the book in his lap: The History of the Uzumaki Clan. Just seeing the title made his chest feel tight, his breath shallow. It was too much. Too big.

A legacy? A clan? A family?

The words felt like a cruel mockery of the life he'd known.

The book slipped from his trembling hands, hitting the floor with a dull, resounding thud. He didn't move to pick it up. He just sat there, staring at it, frozen.

This was real. It had to be. The weight of it, the implications—it hit like a hammer blow. All his life, he had fought for scraps. For acknowledgment. For a fleeting glance of respect. He had fought to exist in a village that wished he didn't.

And now, now, he was staring at the truth of what they had hidden from him. A clan. A family. A place he belonged.

No one had ever told him. No one had even whispered it. They'd buried it, buried him, and pretended he didn't exist.

A sharp, burning pain bloomed in his chest, like something tearing its way out of him. His fists clenched so tightly his nails bit into his palms, but he barely noticed. His breath hitched, his vision blurred, and then, like a dam breaking, everything poured out.

A single tear slipped down his cheek, unbidden and unwelcome.

Anger surged up, hot and vicious, swallowing the sadness whole. His fist slammed into the floor with enough force to shatter the wood beneath it, splinters flying outward in jagged, chaotic lines. The pain in his knuckles barely registered.

"Why?!" The word ripped from his throat, raw and hoarse, filled with years of bottled-up fury. His voice cracked as it carried through the room, unanswered.

Naruto's chest heaved as he struggled to pull himself together, the storm inside him refusing to settle. He thought of the villagers' scornful eyes, the hateful whispers, the way they looked at him like he was less than human. He thought of the teachers who dismissed him, the peers who mocked him, the endless loneliness that had shaped his life. He thought he had made peace with it—thought he'd grown numb to it—but now it came rushing back with brutal clarity.

He looked down at his clenched fist, blood smearing against the cracked floor. Was this all he was worth? Was this all he'd ever be—a forgotten ghost of something great?

He reached down, grabbing the book again. His hands shook as he pulled it back into his lap, the weight of it grounding him.

Fine, he thought bitterly. I'll play their game. I'll keep quiet. I'll read every page, memorize every line, and carve the truth out of this village with my own two hands if I have to.

The Hawk of Konoha. Naruto's gaze drifted back to the note, his eyes narrowing. Could he trust them?

He already knew the answer—No.

Trust had to be earned, and this Hawk had done nothing to deserve it. If they thought a few words and a hidden book would win him over, they were as delusional as the villagers who thought they could keep him chained in their ignorance.

Oscar's voice echoed in his mind. "Precept the Tenth: Trust in yourself, your weapon, and your code—for yourself, and for those you protect."

Naruto let out a slow breath, his fingers curling around the flickering pyromancy flame that danced in his palm. The heat licked at his skin, wild and untamed, but he forced it under his control.

"If this is another lie…" Naruto's voice was low, cold, and razor-edged. The flame cast shadows across his face.

"…I'll clip this Hawk's wings and leave them to crawl in the dirt, regretting every breath they've ever taken."

He didn't yell. He didn't scream. It wasn't a threat. It was a certainty.

The room fell silent, the only sound the faint crackle of the pyromancy flame in his hand. Naruto stared down at the book, his resolve hardening like steel. Whatever this was, whoever this Hawk claimed to be, he would find out.

And if they were lying, if this was just another betrayal in a lifetime full of them…

Naruto's grip tightened on the flame.

…he would burn them to ash.

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[ Personal Note: First off, thanks a ton to all of you for sticking with this story. Seriously, you guys are awesome. Now, if you're interested in supporting me on P treon, let me just say that over there, I post these massive 5k-word chapters. But heads up, if you're jumping to P treon, you'll need to start from Chapter 18, since that's where this chapter lines up with the content there.

To everyone here just reading along, please don't forget to leave a comment! Honestly, your comments make my day, and they let me know you're as invested in this story as I am. So yeah, thanks again, and I hope you have an amazing rest of your day!