Naruto: Seiryu's Aether

Location: Uzushiogakure.

Inside the Uzumaki Manor, tension hung heavy in the air.

Sunlight filtered through the wide windows of the grand hall, illuminating tapestries embroidered with the swirling Uzumaki crest, a symbol of the clan's proud heritage and resilience.

Nejire Uzumaki, the head of Uzushiogakure, stood by one of the windows, his tall frame cast in the warm light. Despite the beauty of the misty morning, there was a somber weight to his expression, his dark gray eyes reflecting deep concern.

Dressed in a loose kimono that left a portion of his swirling tattoo visible on his chest, Nejire's presence was both strong and solemn. His red hair, streaked slightly with age, was tied back, giving him a look of experience and wisdom.

The quiet tension was broken by his son, Kojiro Uzumaki, who entered with a respectful nod.

Kojiro's own red hair flowed over the shoulders of his blue kimono, and his features mirrored his father's, though they carried a youthful urgency.

"Father," Kojiro began, his voice low and edged with worry. "The people are becoming restless. News of the foreign shinobi gathering at the Disputed Islands has spread. They know a battle might be inevitable."

Nejire closed his eyes for a moment, taking in the words.

"I know," he replied solemnly, his voice a deep rumble. "Our people are as brave as they are loyal. The Uzumaki will always stand for our village, but this time… the odds are far from fair."

Kojiro's brow furrowed, a spark of frustration flashing in his dark eyes. "They're willing to risk their lives, Father," he said.

"Even the civilians are preparing to take up arms if they have to. But they shouldn't have to; they don't deserve this fear. We need more than courage right now. They need to know we have a plan."

Nejire's gaze softened as he looked at his son, a mix of pride and sorrow in his eyes. "I've sent a message to Konoha, requesting their aid," he explained, each word carrying the weight of responsibility. "Shodaime Hokage has assured us that help will come. But until they arrive, we're on our own."

The room fell silent for a moment as Kojiro absorbed this. Despite his energy and strength, a hint of vulnerability crossed his face. "You're worried they won't make it in time, aren't you?"

Nejire gave a slight nod, his voice quiet. "Yes, Kojiro. I am."

His gaze drifted to the horizon visible through the window. "Our strength has always been our resilience, our will to withstand any storm. But in these times, that may not be enough. Our people need Konoha's strength beside ours. All we can do now is hold off those who would see Uzushio fall."

Kojiro took a steadying breath, his fists clenched at his sides. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, the door to the hall burst open, and a young Uzumaki shinobi ran in, his face pale with urgency.

"Nejire-sama!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the hall. "The enemy shinobi have bypassed the Whirlpool Barrier!"

Nejire's eyes sharpened instantly, his posture shifting from solemn leader to immediate action.

"What?" he demanded, his voice deep and commanding.

The Whirlpool Barrier was the clan's protective measure, a fierce defense crafted to shield their village from threats originating from the Land of Water and the north, where the Disputed Islands lay.

It was supposed to deter any sudden assaults and buy the village time.

The young shinobi caught his breath, his voice tense. "They've found a way around it. Reports say they're moving fast. At most, an hour until they reach our borders."

Nejire clenched his jaw, the muscles in his shoulders tightening.

"Raise all our forces," he commanded. "Prepare every available shinobi and have them positioned at the village perimeter. No one enters Uzushio unchallenged!"

Kojiro, who had been listening in tense silence, took a step back and gave his father a curt nod.

"I'll ready myself as well," he said, a determined fire in his eyes. Without another word, he turned and strode out of the room, already mentally preparing for the impending battle.

As the hall emptied, Nejire looked once more toward the horizon, his expression unreadable. A murmur escaped his lips, almost a prayer. "When will your forces arrive… Shodaime Hokage?"

.

The wind rustled through the sparse trees as Kūga flew lazily in a sitting position, legs crossed and posture relaxed.

His fur-trimmed black coat fluttered slightly as he flipped through the pages of the diary he'd been reading since they departed from the Hotsprings Capital.

Beside him, Madara darted from tree to tree with an effortless grace, his Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan active as always, scanning the terrain for potential threats.

Kūga let out a soft chuckle, catching Madara's attention briefly. "What's so amusing?" Madara asked without breaking his rhythm, his tone more curious than confrontational.

"It's not what I thought it'd be," Kūga replied, keeping his eyes on the pages. "This 'tome' the Daimyo gave me is actually a diary. Written in a language no one here could read, maybe except me."

Madara arched a brow, though Kūga couldn't see it. "A diary?" he repeated, leaping to the next branch with ease. "And what's in it that has you smiling like a fool?"

Kūga smirked, snapping the book shut briefly. "The guy who wrote this… he wasn't from this world. Seems he lived during the time of the Sage of Six Paths. Apparently, the Sage helped him control his powers."

Madara slowed his pace slightly, curiosity evident in his sharp gaze. "Aether?" he asked.

"Maybe?" Kūga said, reopening the book. "Something else entirely. But it's fascinating. He talks about his life, his struggles, and how he tried to fit in here despite being… different. It's a glimpse into another life, another time."

As Kūga flipped the page, the atmosphere shifted.

Madara suddenly stopped, landing silently on the forest floor below.

Kūga halted mid-air, still seated as if on an invisible chair, and glanced down at the Uchiha. "What?" he asked, raising a brow.

Madara looked up at him, his expression calm but firm.

"I'm hungry. You cook," he stated, his tone leaving no room for debate.

Kūga let out a sigh, closing the diary and tucking it away with a flick of his hand.

"Fine," he said, a small smile playing on his lips. "But you'll have to hunt something first."

Madara nodded once, his Sharingan glinting briefly before he disappeared into the distance, leaving a faint gust of wind in his wake.

Kūga floated down to the ground, his feet touching the rocky soil as he surveyed their surroundings.

Unlike the dense forests of the Land of Fire, this area was more rugged, with a mix of sandy patches and sparse trees clinging stubbornly to life.

With a flick of his wrist, Kūga conjured a small cooking setup using Aether.

A sturdy table, a chopping board, and a fire pit appeared as if materializing from thin air.

The fire pit ignited instantly, a small, steady flame flickering at its center.

"Alright, let's get this set up," he murmured to himself, strolling over to a nearby tree.

He examined its size and shape briefly before making a clean horizontal cutting motion with his hand.

The tree fell gracefully, the cut so smooth it looked as if a master craftsman had taken hours to make it.

"I suppose it's always up to me to keep things civilized," Kūga muttered with a smirk, already thinking about what kind of meal he'd prepare with whatever Madara managed to hunt.

.

Kūga sat down on the log he had cut with precision moments earlier, leaning back slightly as the warm glow of the fire pit flickered in the corner of his vision.

He pulled the diary from his coat, flipping to the page he had left off on. The crackle of the fire and the distant rustle of leaves created a calm backdrop as his sharp blue eyes scanned the flowing English script.

The words on the page unfolded like a story from a world long past.

He smirked as he read through the lighthearted notes and sharp observations of the diary's author.

The tone was sarcastic, almost irreverent, even when discussing the legendary Sage of Six Paths. Kūga turned the page to the next entry, engrossed by the mixture of humor and profound knowledge.

"To my descendant who's reading this," the words began, "I have named the power that I have as Aether. It is unique to only my descendants; not even that stupid Hagoromo can copy anything I do at this point. I've surpassed that fossil."

Kūga chuckled, raising an eyebrow at the audacious statement.

"Bold claim," he murmured, though the wit of the words drew a small grin.

He flipped the page and continued reading, intrigued by what the diary held next.

"Anyways," it went on, "if you've read to this part, you're probably strong already." 

Kūga shook his head, amused by the writer's confidence. He paused for a moment, musing to himself.

"If I had been transferred to this world during Hagoromo's time," he muttered, "would I have met this guy? Would I have seen the original master of Aether?"

The thought lingered, an odd mix of curiosity and longing. But with a shrug, he dismissed the notion and returned to the text.

The diary shifted tone as Kūga turned another page. "As my descendant, please, whatever you do, protect our people. I fear that the wars between Indra's and Ashura's descendants will affect my line. I also do not know if my descendants will be as strong as me. But to you, who's able to read this last part, this is all of my knowledge in regards to my power called Aether."

Kūga's smile faded, his expression hardening as the weight of the words sank in.

But before he could reflect further, the book in his hands began to glow.

A dazzling light poured from its pages, growing in intensity with each passing second.

Kūga's brows knitted as the light brightened, searing his vision.

He instinctively channeled Aether to protect his eyes, but the light pierced through his defenses effortlessly.

For the first time in his lift, panic set in as he felt the book becoming impossibly hot in his hands, yet he couldn't release it... it was as if the diary had fused to his skin.

"What the—?!" Kūga exclaimed, his voice rising as a sharp, grueling pain surged through his body.

He shouted, his usual calm composure shattered as the light overwhelmed him. It wasn't just brightness; it was as if his very being was being unraveled and rewritten.

Suddenly, the light ceased, leaving behind a golden book in his hands.

The searing heat vanished, replaced by a chilling emptiness that made him shiver. Kūga gasped for air, his chest heaving as dizziness gripped him.

"What the hell just happened?" he muttered, clutching his spinning head.

But before he could gather his thoughts, a flood of knowledge crashed into his mind.

The torrent of information was relentless, each fragment heavier than the last.

It wasn't just techniques or theories, it was an overwhelming understanding of existence itself, intricately tied to Aether.

His eyes widened as he clutched his temples, struggling to process the influx.

The scenery around him began to warp.

The familiar forest melted away, replaced by a vast, endless darkness. Small pinpricks of light—stars, perhaps, dotted the infinite void, giving the space an ethereal, surreal quality.

Kūga floated there, suspended in nothingness, his figure dwarfed by the immensity of the cosmos-like expanse.

"What… is this?" Kūga whispered, his voice echoing faintly.

He turned his head, searching for anything tangible, but the void offered no answers.

The stars shimmered faintly, but there were no planets, no landmarks, nothing to ground him.

For a moment, he considered the possibility of an illusion, but his instincts told him otherwise.

He channeled Aether to his eyes, hoping for clarity, but even its radiant power failed to penetrate the mystery of this place.

.

.

.

The realization dawned slowly, like the first rays of light piercing a stormy sky.

"This…" Kūga muttered, his voice carrying a mix of awe and disbelief as the stars pulsed gently around him. "All this… is Aether?"

The stars flared brightly, as if responding to his words.

For the first time in a long while, Kūga felt small, insignificant in the face of something far greater than himself.

And yet, a smile tugged at his lips, a spark of wonder lighting his usually calm gaze.

"So, this is what you meant by 'all your knowledge,' huh?"