Chapter 8:
Horrors for All to See
The shadow clone stationed in the eastern watchtower stood with his arms crossed, staring down at the field of ash that had once been forest. It wasn't much to look at now — just a windswept flatland of soot, cinders, and the faint shimmer of smoke curling upward from the last of the embers.
A hundred or more shinobi of Konoha loitered around, enjoying the lull in combat. Or else cleaning up the body parts of the aliens they had utterly dismembers. What few got beyond the line, mostly from being flung by explosions in front of the line.
Then, he got the message from a clone dispersing and leapt down.
A few quick hand signs and the storage toad appeared before him. It opened its mouth and lowered its tongue like a slide. Out of it walked three figures appeared below in the clearing, waning sunlight glinting off their forehead protectors.
"Yo!" the clone called as his original reached him
"Hey, me." Naruto grinned at his double before looking to the side. "Kakashi-sensei, Gai's over at the western ridge with his team. They're expecting you."
Kakashi gave a lazy wave in acknowledgment.
"Then I'll go keep the fire burning."
With a quick nod to Sakura and Naruto, he disappeared in a swirl of movement, headed for the front.
"I'll head to the field tents," Sakura said. "We've got wounded coming in from the tunnels."
"Thanks, Sakura. Be careful out there," Naruto said.
Sakura gave him a brief smile before darting off, her footsteps already fading into the distance.
Naruto turned to his clone and nodded before moving westward.
"Alright, I'm going under. Got a few things to check out down in those tunnels. I'll gather anyone who thinks they're to tag along."
He raised his voice to the surrounding shinobi.
"I'm heading into the tunnels beneath the ash zone. Tracking, sensing, brute force — anything that helps down there, I want it!" He yelled.
Choji Akimichi stepped forward first, wiping his mouth and thumbing a pill case at his hip.
"I'm in."
Kiba and Akamaru followed without hesitation.
"You'll want a nose down there. And we can at least dig the team out of any danger" he said, "Let's go, Akamaru!"
And then came someone quiet — a Hyūga Naruto didn't recognize. Young, maybe Genin or low Chunin, with pale eyes already focused ahead. The silent nod he gave was all the commitment Naruto needed.
"Alright," Naruto said, forming three hand seals. "Let's keep this moving."
He made a single hand sign.
Three more Narutos appeared in bursts of white smoke. Without a word, one of them dispelled.
The original clone who had held this position snapped to attention as the plan filtered in through sudden memory. His face lit up.
"Oh, that's clever," he muttered.
The real Naruto nodded once and turned to his chosen group.
"You've got two minutes. Then we move."
With that, he jogged off, disappearing toward the tunnel mouths in the west.
The clone rubbed his hands together and turned back to the lingering shinobi.
"Alright. Now, I need any and all artists. Drawing, painting, doesn't matter. If you can visualize and replicate, I need you."
No sooner had the words left his mouth than two shinobi appeared as if summoned. One wore a porcelain-white mask with red feather-like slashes on either side — emotionless, clean, precise. ANBU, no question. The other, far more unexpected, was Ibiki Morino. Scarred, silent, and holding — of all things — a worn sketchbook and pencil.
"…Ibiki?" the clone asked.
"I draw under stress," the interrogator said flatly. "It helps me remember where people scream."
"I'm both glad and deeply disturbed to hear that."
The ANBU set down a scroll and calligraphy kit with practiced grace, kneeling over it in silence. Then he spoke, soft and clipped.
"I am proficient in terrain sketching and architectural perspective."
" Great! That's exactly what I need. We just need one more, anyone?"
He turned toward the shinobi in the area, raising his voice.
"Anyone else? You don't even have to be good — just passable!"
He was answered by silence.
"Mr. Uzumaki," said the ANBU without looking up. "You might try asking your other selves."
"Right, good idea!"
One of the new shadow clones dispelled instantly.
"Okay," one of the remaining two said a second later. "Plan's pretty simple. The real me is going into the tunnel systems. He'll create clones at forks and intersections. Each one will explore a new branch, and when something important happens — landmarks, enemy contact, collapse — they'll dispel."
All two remaining clones suddenly went stiff, like someone just flipped a breaker. They straightened in unison.
"What was that?" asked Ibiki.
All three burst out laughing.
"Deidara killed a clone!" one of them said, doubling over. "He thought we were mocking him. I think the phrasing came out wrong."
"Oh man," another said, wheezing. "We're gonna need a good apology."
The ANBU made a soft, amused sound behind his mask — barely a chuckle.
Ibiki arched a brow.
"You sent Deidara a clone to ask for help?"
"Yeah! For sculpture," the clone said, still catching his breath. "It's a whole thing. Anyway — tunnels."
The clone straightened up, gesturing between Ibiki and the ANBU.
"Here's what we're going to do. I'll stay here and send clones to report. You two each take a different clone to map what the others see. Three main tunnels. Three maps."
"That's an outstanding idea," Ibiki said, already flipping his sketchbook to a blank page. "We'll need separate workstations."
"Exactly. We'll ask the supply squad for two field tents — isolated, covered, secure. Each tent gets one clone and one artist."
The ANBU nodded.
"This is acceptable."
The clone gave a small, satisfied nod.
"Then let's get to work. Operation 'Draw Me a Warzone' is a go."
"We're also going to need large sheafs of paper," the ANBU added. "Proper cartography stock. Preferably something durable enough to hang on a wall."
One of the clones raised a hand.
"On it!"
He dashed off toward the makeshift logistics outpost, shouting as he ran.
"Anybody got two private tents with big tables? Or giant sheets of paper?! Maybe a scroll the size of a futon?!"
Another blur landed silently beside them, the soft thump of his boots muffled in the ash-laden soil. This ANBU's mask resembled a cat — or maybe a tanuki, it was hard to tell — with dark, slanted markings and small pointed ears. He exuded calm, like a man who never raised his voice because he never needed to.
"Come with me," the new ANBU said, pointing toward a low, sloping hill behind the medical tents. "I have a better solution."
They followed in silence, weaving between healers tending wounded and runners exchanging sealed scrolls. The hill provided natural cover — earth pushed up and shaped by chakra into barriers, useful for repelling debris or surprise attacks. It was quieter here, buffered from the chaotic thrum of the battlefield.
The tanuki-masked ANBU raised his hands and formed a rapid sequence of hand seals. The ground beneath them shifted with a groan — and from the soil rose two wooden buildings, constructing itself like jigsaw pieces sticking together. The end result was compact but sturdy, shaped with perfect symmetry.
"Whoa," said both remaining Naruto clones at once.
"Tables are inside," the ANBU said casually, as though manifesting architecture from dirt was just part of the morning routine. "You said paper, too?"
"Yes, sir! Big sheets. For mapmaking," one clone confirmed.
"Come on." The ANBU motioned to the left cabin.
Inside was dim but spacious. The floor was clean-cut wood grain, the walls smooth and polished like cedar. At the center stood a massive table, big enough to serve as a battlefield war desk for ten — easily wide enough for four shinobi to pitch camping tents on it and still have room left over.
The ANBU reached into a pouch at his waist and retrieved a sheet of material that looked like parchment fused with cloth — off-white, slightly fibrous, and surprisingly flexible.
"Paperbark tree bark," he said, placing it down on the table.
Then, with a few precise hand seals, he touched the table — and the entire surface transformed into the same substance. A single, seamless sheet, matte-textured, faintly brown-streaked, and perfectly smooth.
"Will this do?" he asked.
Ibiki ran his hand over it slowly, nodding in approval.
"It's perfect."
"Exquisite," the white-masked ANBU added.
Naruto tilted his head.
"What else do you have in that chakra tree toolbox of yours?"
The ANBU actually checked inside, pulling out wood sample after wood sample. Some of it was wrapped in cloth, others in glass..
"The basics. Ibuloke for strength and hardness, cork and rubber trees for soft cushioning. Eucalyptus and juniper when I need to set areas on fire. Gympie for when I'm really pissed off. Machineel and strychnine for toxins. Ironwood for moisture extraction from the soil. Morimba, poplar, and red cedar for purifying water and air. Black persimmon for ink. And paperbark for, well… this."
He tapped the table again, satisfied.
"That's about it."
Ibiki just stared at him for a beat.
"I want to fight beside you," he said at last.
"Me too," Naruto added, arms crossed and eyes wide. "That was awesome."
"I am certain that opportunity will come," the ANBU said curtly. "Today you're cartographers."
"Right," Naruto said, grinning. "So here's how it breaks down."
He pointed to the giant sheet.
"Ibiki, you and I will map the eastern tunnel — the one the real me just went down. Clone number two, you'll partner with Sai in the second house and cover the southern tunnel. We'll each update in real time as our clones feed us new intel."
"What about the northern tunnels?" Ibiki asked.
"Good news," Naruto replied, "Deidara finally agreed to help — well, after murdering the first messenger clone. But we're friends again now. He's going to sculpt the entire northern network in sand and detonation clay as he goes."
The two ANBU tilted their heads simultaneously.
"That will work," The ink painter said simply.
"We're still short a map, though," the tanuki-masked ANBU pointed out. "The western tunnels?"
"Still unfound," Naruto admitted. "Once we locate an entrance, I'll assign a fourth artist and a fourth team. Until then, these three are priority."
The ink painting Anbu gave a short nod, already moving toward the second house with the other clone.
Ibiki flexed his fingers, took out his pencil, and glanced at Naruto.
"Well, let's sketch ourselves a war zone, shall we?"
The projector on the walls of the old Konoha Academy cafeteria was usually reserved for pre-recorded lectures, weather updates, and morning announcements about cafeteria menus. But today, the entire building had been herded into the room for another purpose.
Every genin not currently deployed in the war effort, being most of them, was seated cross-legged on the wooden floor watching over the academy students while the usual instructors were out securing the village. The students in question leaned forward at their desks, eyes glued to the massive projection screen hanging from the front wall.
The grainy footage stabilized just in time to reveal a snowy landscape with spots of green and blue. A voice, theatrical and unmistakably over-practiced, rolled out over the speakers:
"At the far edge of the Springmaker zone — nestled between glacier walls and verdant oasis — we witness a historic moment. Princess Koyuki Kazahana of the Land of Spring greets one the four Heroes of Snow, Naruto Uzumaki… and, to the world's surprise, a representative of the Akatsuki terrorist organization."
The camera panned as Princess Koyuki stepped gracefully down a polished steel ramp, her royal robe trailing behind her like fresh-fallen snow. Her silver earrings sparkled as she offered a gloved hand to the camera's left.
The feed zoomed in — and there he was.
Naruto Uzumaki stood beside her, his signature orange outfit unmistakable even with his head freshly shaved, his Leaf forehead protector tied boldly over his brow. His grin was wide, almost bashful. Princess Koyuki brought him in for a hug and said something to him that the camera's didn't catch.
Beside him, towering and silent, was a figure in a swirling black cloak with red clouds painted on it. He wore an orange spiral mask covering his face. He said nothing. He didn't need to. His posture spoke volumes about how dangerous he was.
Konohamaru's eyes narrowed.
"That's him? The Akatsuki guy?"
"Looks like it," Moegi murmured, her eyes wide with curiosity rather than fear.
Udon adjusted his glasses.
"Naruto doesn't seem worried. If anything… they look like they're working together."
Konohamaru sat back with a scowl, arms crossed.
"I don't like it." he admitted.
"He did save that princess during that whole snow mission," Moegi pointed out. "She probably trusts him. And if Naruto trusts that Akatsuki guy then so should we…"
"That's a big if," Konohamaru muttered.
Onscreen, the masked figure stepped aside as Naruto and Koyuki spoke briefly with someone off-camera. The narrator's voice returned — none other than Dōgen, the eccentric film director who'd once chronicled their snowbound mission. His dramatic tone had mellowed over the years, but only slightly.
"We are witnessing not just a diplomatic gesture — but a symbol of unity. A princess of peace. A hero of war. And a former enemy now standing together under one banner. The elemental nations have turned their eyes toward survival — and perhaps, for the first time, toward genuine collaboration."
"Still feels weird," Udon admitted. "Even if it's working."
Moegi tilted her head.
"Do you think we'll get to fight soon?" she asked,
Konohamaru didn't answer right away. His gaze lingered on Naruto — the boy who used to prank the village, now standing shoulder-to-shoulder with heads of state and walking war criminals. He clenched his jaw.
"Only if things get really bad," he finally said. "Seeing this cooperation though? They must already be really bad. So I can't imagine the levels of bad to come that would require us."
The warm scent of steamed rice and miso soup filled the small kitchen of Tazuna's seaside home. Outside, the waves lapped gently against the rocky shore, the tide high under a silver dusk sky. Inside, however, the atmosphere was anything but calm.
"Inari, volume!" Tsunami called from where she stood by the stove, ladling soup into bowls.
"Got it!" the boy shouted back, hopping over to the old wooden dial on the small television.
He turned it up just as the footage shifted from icy mountain airstrips to a wide, frozen coastline peppered with domed structures.
"—and here, on the southeastern edge of the Land of Spring," said the narrator's voice, still unmistakably Dōgen, "we witness the reception of refugees from the Land of Wind — victims of the alien infestation now gripping the western nations."
Tazuna grunted from his seat at the table, a cigarette pinched between two fingers.
"Aliens. Never thought I'd live to hear that word on the news without accompanying laughter."
Onscreen, footage showed a long procession of weary travelers — sun-scorched men, cloaked women holding sleeping children, adolescents too exhausted to speak — all spilling forth from a giant toad's mouth with wide eyes and slower feet. They were guided toward large igloo-like shelters.
Spring Ninja in white and gray uniforms directed people to bunks, delivered blankets, and handed out warm bowls of soup and grain.
"These structures, known locally as Frost Domes, are part of the Land of Spring's new humanitarian initiative," the voiceover continued. "Funded by the Kazahana royal treasury and reinforced by medical teams from the Hidden Stone, this growing encampment is now home to over four hundred displaced civilians."
Inari's eyes didn't leave the screen.
"They've got enough supplies for that many people?"
"Looks like it," Tsunami said, setting down a tray. "Princess Koyuki really went all out."
Tazuna exhaled a long breath of smoke.
"Good. It's about time the world stopped thinking small."
They watched as a young girl was handed a scarf by a Spring shinobi and immediately burst into tears — not from fear, but gratitude. An older man behind her bowed low, pressing his forehead to the snow.
Tsunami's hand tightened around her cup.
"It's like watching our village all over again," she said quietly.
"And Naruto is there to fix things again." Tazuna said, smirking. "Kid always was stubborn."
"As the situation in the Land of Wind continues to spread," the narrator added, "more refugees from surrounding areas are expected to arrive in the coming days. And thanks to joint efforts like this one — the future, while uncertain, is no longer without hope."
The image faded slightly, the footage transitioning to something new.
The projector flickered and hummed softly as it cast its light onto a stretched sheet of linen strung between two stone pillars. The entire center of Takigakure's main square.
The shade of their giant tree was sufficient to make the projected light display visible to all even in the daytime. Now that night approached and the torches unlit it was nearly pitch black like a theater. To both natives of the village, and the refugees who'd spent the day sleeping comfortably in the homes shared with them.
Elders sat near the back on woven reed mats, while children huddled near the front, their wide eyes reflecting the pale blues and whites of the image above them.
Gasps rang out as they saw the launch of dozens of airships. Even Shibuki couldn't believe his eyes.
"As part of the unfolding crisis, the Land of Spring has launched a fleet of aerial battleships to assist in the war effort. Each vessel is capable of carrying up to fifty shinobi."
The voice of Dōgen, the familiar filmmaker-turned-documentarian, brought a hush over the crowd.
A dozen sleek, heavy-lift crafts took off in staggered formation. A mix of chakra-based propulsion and warm air buoyancy carried them higher and higher. Sunlight glinted off their wooden and metal hulls. The glass-covered cockpits sparkled, giving them the look of airborne temples or great migrating birds.
An elderly woman beside him spoke up.
"Those fly with chakra?" she asked.
"Some chakra, some steam. The Spring engineers are smart," he replied in awe.
The scene changed to show a wide shot — airships dotting the sky like drifting lanterns, each heading south.
"The Land of Waterfall has already pledged support for incoming refugees, with riverside settlements preparing to house several hundred displaced families."
A cheer rose from one corner of the square, where a group of volunteer carpenters and farmers stood. A few thumped their chests in pride.
But Shibuki was not pleased. He kept his arms folded and watched intently. Beside him, a local Waterfall-nin whispered something about border coordination and supply checks. The leader simply nodded, never taking his eyes off the projection.
But his mind was elsewhere.
He'd had no idea the threat foreign powers had become during this unprecedented time of peace. Waterfall village, with its isolation and lackadaisical attitude toward training, had fallen behind.
He was to blame for that. And now even the Land of Springs was an existential threat to them. What did this say about the alien threat or other great nations?
A light drizzle fell in lazy sheets outside the canvas walls of the long, low shelter. The roof above them drummed softly with each drop — not a storm, just the kind of gentle, gray rain that made the world feel far away.
Inside, the air was warm with steam from rice gruel and medicinal herbs boiling over a pair of makeshift stoves. Dozens of refugees huddled on padded mats or old bedrolls, their cheeks ruddy from food and warmth.
Ranmaru kept a watch on all of them, and all of the people in other tents, all at once. Neji, with his similarly impressive occular powers, was stationed atop the cliffs surrounding them. He was to watch the horizon for approaching enemies, while Ranmaru was to watch the going-ons within.
There wasn't much to see. But there was much to hear.
Tenten was trying to manage a long distance radio, tuning it to a newscast that the Naruto clone had told them was airing. It crackled for a bit.
Then the broadcast came through — clear and calm, the voice of Dōgen again, as steady as ever.
"And your eyes do not deceive you, Princess Koyuki is now shaking hands with the leader of Akatsuki."
Gasps and murmurs rose in the room. A few of the younger refugees turned their heads at the name — some smiling, some whispering.
"…and, I'm sorry what?" The voice said, and Ranmaru could practically see him listening to an earpiece. "This just in, the leader of the Akatsuki claims to be none other than Madara Uchiha."
The murmurs stopped.
Someone in the back stood abruptly.
"Madara?!" the child said. "That guy was Madara?!"
A mother near the corner pulled her child closer, but said nothing.
Ranmaru, ever composed, raised a hand.
"He's working with us," he said softly. "Naruto wouldn't stand beside him otherwise."
"How do you know?" asked a teen in a tattered scarf.
Ranmaru hesitated.
"Because we met him, and he ate our food. And because people like Uzumaki Naruto… they don't share a stage with monsters. They change them."
But he wasn't so sure that he believed his own words. Even with Tenten giving him the thumbs up for it.
The Naruto clone stood just behind Princess Koyuki as the first airship descended from the clouds.
It was exactly as he remembered it up close. The rectangular chassis supported by steel ribs and four massive engines. A balloon-like structure of armored canvas and chakra-threaded silk billowed overhead, etched with the crest of the Kazahana royal family. Another made to land nearby while the others floated through the clouds like migrating birds of war.
A cheer rose from the nearby refugees as the ships began their slow descent. Each one released long boarding ramps that clunked down into the snow-packed earth, steam hissing from their flanks.
"Man," the Naruto clone muttered, shading his eyes. "When she says 'air superiority,' she doesn't hold back."
Behind him, Madara crossed his arms.
"That's not air superiority," he said. "That's an air navy. At least now Pain and Deidera can be spared for more important roles."
Koyuki turned, her cloak fluttering in the wind.
"The Land of Spring will not be a backdrop in this war," she said simply. "We intend to win it."
The airship landed and a ramp lowered before them. Koyuki stepped forward and turned to Naruto, gesturing to follow her.
"This one's ours."
As Naruto started walking, the clone glanced back to see the film crew boarding the next airship. Dōgen, the mustachioed director from the old Snow Country shoot, was barking orders as he adjusted a wool-lined coat and secured a portable camera rig to his shoulder.
Naruto leaned closer to Madara as they reached the top of the ramp.
"They're not really bringing a film crew to the warzone are they?"
Before Madara could answer, the man spoke loud enough to the camera's for them to hear.
"And with this, Princess Koyuki departs alongside the Hero of Snow and an alleged member of Akatsuki board for their journey south. Our cameras will follow every major development of this unprecedented alliance, bringing the truth of war to every village across the continent—"
Both Madara and Naruto turned toward the sound in perfect synchronization, then looked at each other, eyes wide.
Neither of them put words to the miscontent they had with that decision, but every newly growing hair on Naruto's neck stood on end.
In the coming years and decades, both he and the man he would one day know as Obito would regard this moment of inaction as the greatest mistake of the War With the Waagh.
Most of the scenes in this chapter and the previous one were happening at around the same time. I probably should have ordered them differently, but I want to keep some variety between chapters.
Next chapter we get back to some serious action in the tunnels, and nothing else.
For those of you familiar with history, and the history of broadcasting in particular, you know exactly how much of an "Oh shit" moment this is. The elemental nations may not have 30,000 confirmed soviet spies in the government and media manipulating information to turn citizens against veterans, but they do have enemies in each other who take part in informational warfare against one another. Worse, all of them have taken part in informational warfare against their own populace and the naked truth of war will do a lot of harm to the cohesiveness of the Shinobi system. Not least of all because the average person will be able to SEE how powerful shinobi are.
How many of them do you think ever suspected that Shinobi were straight up black mages on top of spies and assassins? Exactly. A lot of morons in the Naruto universe never would have stepped up to fight shinobi if they knew a tenth of what they were capable of. That secrecy gave them power, and that secret is out now. The arms races to come won't just be between nations, but between groups of people in society, normal men and women preparing themselves for threats alien and domestic.