Author's note: Completely fell asleep... my bad guys. I will post it here right now and sleep, because I need to travel to my other house in a couple of hours. I will publish it on the other sites later once I arrive.I'm excited to hear y'all's thoughts. I will, hopefully, use something unique with the seals. As well as the rough story, I hope. For obvious reasons, teenagers' graduate school at 15, so after the timeskip they will be eighteen. Naruto and the rest are in the final year, and Itsuki is the same year, even if mentally he is... troubled lol.
Weight of the Maelstrom.
Chapter 1.
Itsuki Uzumaki.
Hell came to Uzushio, and the gods simply turned a blind eye while we bled.
My clan, one of the most powerful, coveted, and feared in the whole world, had been reduced to nothing more than six survivors. Six ghosts who could do nothing but watch as those bastards desecrated everything we ever stood for.
The world feared our seals, but they never understood us. They didn't know every drop of blood we shed, every seal we forged, was to protect the little ones' smiles.
For us, family was everything.
Our power didn’t matter. Nor did centuries of accumulated riches. Only family counted.
Was it a surprise that our souls lost their shine as we watched our history being erased?
And for what? We didn’t even expand like other countries. We were a simple village that preferred studying the true nature of seals rather than spilling blood to gain a larger territory or subjugate smaller villages. We only fought back when we were attacked first.
And what of our allies? The supposedly strongest village in the world?
Did they come to aid us like they had promised when the old hag married the idiotic tree humper?
No. And that wasn’t even the worst part.
It was what came after years of just waiting for death. Because that was all that waited for us.
I couldn’t look down. Still, I felt the jagged gash across my navel. The moment this seal shattered, my innards would spill onto the stone. Knowing I might die in thirty minutes to an hour, however, pained me far less than what I had witnessed during the stasis.
The first time it happened, I genuinely thought I was hallucinating. I didn’t know how much time had passed. Counting how many times the sun went down got depressing enough after the first year. But seeing a group of scavengers walking with wide grins through the eastern gate shocked me out of my misery.
The villages that attacked us didn’t bother grabbing our riches, just the very obvious scrolls from the academy and the library. Nothing that important, considering that the best knowledge was locked inside hundreds of seals that couldn’t be opened if you weren’t a pure-blooded Uzumaki.
But the scavengers? They were the worst of the worst. Not even soldiers or shinobi worth their names. Crooks whose whore mothers probably didn't even feel them slipping out came in like hungry wolves, picking through the rubble of the ruins for anything of value.
I watched one of them pry the ceremonial bell off the front of the Matriarch’s fountain. The place I used to play with all my cousins growing up. The animal didn’t even have the decency to lift it properly, choosing to drag it through the mud instead. The heavy bell scraped against the stone in the most obnoxious way.
Just remembering the sound made me want to clench my teeth until they broke.
Not that I could move.
Elder Takara, the one who used the seal to hide us from the enemies inside this time-sealed pseudo dimension, felt it worse than any of us. Because it was one of the few items from her direct bloodline that remained from even before the warring era.
It was the first time I cursed my bloodline. Sensing her pure, unadulterated grief made something inside of me break. But not fully, unlike Mashiro-sama, whose presence I couldn’t sense after that moment.
A seal that froze us in time. You couldn’t speak, you couldn’t move, you couldn’t even blink. Or sleep. Or feel hungry. Or even cry when everything that you loved turned into ruins.
It was deeply dehumanizing, and no one would leave this place the same person. Not that we would enjoy being outside for long.
But we Uzumakis were special. We felt each other. Every spike of rage reverberated between us, fueling our own feelings to the point that I couldn’t recognize which were mine and which weren’t. Every ounce of despair, every long, hollow stretch of nothing when the first couldn’t handle it anymore and broke.
Six people, locked in shared silence for decades, drowning and amplifying each other’s grief.
At one point, the bandits left, and Mashiro-sama returned to life, even if warped from what he once was. If he had once been an inferno that embodied the will of the tide like no one else, he became nothing more than a weak candle. But he returned.
Until the next surprise visit.
Rogue shinobi from smaller nations. Or even new ones, because I didn’t recognize some of their headbands. Deserters from their own nations, scum that must have heard about the Uzumaki history and believed they could make a fortune from our ruins if they were lucky.
Most of them left with empty hands, the unlucky ones stayed here forever if they touched the wrong thing.
Our real treasures were hidden in places that the common mucks wouldn’t be able to crack.
But they broke what they couldn’t steal. They pissed in the hallways of the academy where I first learned to write my own Kanji in hopes of following my dreams and becoming the youngest seal master of Uzushio.
A dream that, amusingly, was shared by every kid there was.
Then came the fires. Stupid fucks thinking that if they torched everywhere, the things that remained would be important. They weren’t exactly wrong. Not that many tried to touch them after the first dozen died gruesome deaths.
Did I say I no longer counted the years? What I counted was every time something decayed, showing us how time passed for everyone but us.
When the first untouched building fell. Or when a sprout that survived blossomed only for it to rot as time passed.
And even then, five of the six survivors still shared our feelings with the rest.
Until the second one broke. I had never expected to see another Elder, especially Elder Takara, to break second.
She was a hag, one who always pushed the younger generation too hard, one who always believed that the union between Mito and Hashirama would ensure our security. One that bored us, kids, whenever she gave her famous history lessons that painted Konoha as almost as bright as Uzushio. As if that was possible.
But they came. Or at least, I supposed they did.
Our allies, men and women with blank masks and not a single sign of allegiance, appeared like shadows during the night, managing to break through some of the seals that had been untouched for a long time. They looked and moved like the ANBU from home, but there was something weird about their behavior.
I couldn’t be sure where they belonged. But I knew. I knew from the bottom of my heart that they were from Konoha.
Elder Takara's despair was unnatural, consuming everything else she felt.
And again, it almost broke me. Her feelings, the rage of Elder Aoi, the fear of Nagisa-sama, the disbelief of Kiyoshi-chan, and the silence coming from Mashiro-sama’s location.
They took almost everything but the most hidden, better-protected locations. They raided the patriarch's estate like our alliance had never mattered. They used our own tools to break some of the sealed zones.
And they left in silence, boarding six different boats with the loot from our ruins.
And they kept returning. Not often, but enough that I would never forget those blank masks. Each time, they dug deeper. Most of them left empty-handed, but sometimes, they managed to find something of value.
But that hatred couldn’t compare to when they tried to raid our cemetery.
Kiyoshi-chan broke when she saw that. And her whimpers at that scene were something that would have plagued my nightmares if I could fall asleep. She was the brightest of our generation, someone whose talents in the sealing arts rivaled Mito's. Or as Nagisa-sama said, surpassed her.
And she was the only reason I was in this place. Alive, for however long that would be. All because she wanted to train with me.
And I could do nothing more than try to calm her down with my feelings. All for nothing.
She fell silent next.
We were only three left in the link. And then he arrived.
A pale man with slitted, serpentine eyes and long black hair stepped into the sacred grounds of our cemetery. We all recognized him instantly. Orochimaru, the student of the third Hokage. The golden prodigy of the Leaf Village. The one who was on the way to becoming the next Hokage.
A heavy, sickening dread immediately washed over me. It came from Aoi-sama, the Warhawk of our clan, the man who had always warned us that Konoha’s smiles were just for show while they enjoyed everything we gave to them.
I felt confused, but my confusion was quickly swallowed by a sudden, desperate surge of hope radiating from Nagisa-sama. She actually believed he was here to help. I grasped onto her hope because that was the only thing left.
Then Orochimaru raised his hands.
He didn't make signs of respect or even bow to the place of rest of the biggest allies Konoha ever had. He carefully dismantled the blood seals protecting the graves of our greatest warriors. The seals that common scavengers and even the blank-masked ANBU had failed to breach unraveled as his chakra tainted the seals.
He opened the crypts before he pulled out the preserved bodies of our aunts, our uncles, the legends of our clan.
Nagisa-sama’s hope peaked, but I only focused on Aoi-sama's dread.
And then he pulled out a scalpel.
My mental screams echoed in the void, completely drowned out by the sheer, unadulterated horror exploding from Nagisa-sama.
Orochimaru was not here to help… He desecrated.
He stripped away flesh and hair. He extracted bone marrow and blood samples with a wide grin. He was harvesting us… and having fun while doing so. He treated the proudest warriors of the whirlpool like they meant nothing.
He sealed their desecrated remains into storage scrolls, a cold smirk on his lips, and walked away.
Nagisa-sama’s horror fractured into a million pieces. The empathic link shuddered violently, then fell into absolute silence. She was gone. She broke, unable to reconcile the absolute betrayal of the allies she had trusted. Of the man she had liked.
Now, it was just Aoi-sama and me.
The Warhawk and the child.
There was no fear left or even grief. Aoi-sama’s soul erupted into an inferno of pure hatred. It was a dark, suffocating rage that demanded blood, a fury aimed entirely at the Leaf.
Not at the ones who caused this. But at our supposed allies. And I didn’t fault him.
I didn't try to calm him down or even ignore it. I opened my mind and let his rage wash over me. I enveloped it because it was the only thing left.
I absorbed every single ounce of his hatred and made it my own.
They had left us to die. They had stolen our history. They had butchered our dead.
I no longer cared if the brat Kushina had given birth to another brat in the Leaf. She was not a true Uzumaki. Not after she sat safe behind Konoha's walls while they let our village burn and let their heroes defile our graves.
I stewed in that endless, burning anger for who knows how long. It became everything I had in the silence. The only thing that kept my mind from fracturing.
Then, who knows how many years later, the darkness around the corner of my eyes began to splinter.
Tiny, glowing fractures webbed across the invisible dome of the stasis dimension. The ambient chakra that had once fueled this seal no longer able to hold it together.
Time was almost up.
The cracks spread faster, glowing a blinding, erratic white. I braced myself mentally, knowing the agony of my ruined stomach was waiting for me on the other side. Aoi-sama’s lingering rage pulsed one final time in my chest.
And for the first time in years, Aoi-sama’s hatred changed into something else. Determination.
With a hint of pity.
Just for a short moment, before the seal broke and the worst pain I had ever experienced assaulted my body.
Uzushiogakure.
The agony was unlike anything I had ever felt during the academy or even my training with Kiyoshi... and she could be a tad violent when we sparred.
The gash across my navel tore open instantly, and my blood and intestines started spilling out onto the mossy stone of the house. I opened my mouth to scream, but I could only make a choked gasp.
Aoi was moving before I could even blink. He lunged across the ruins and slapped Takara so hard her head snapped back.
"Get your shit together, you old hag!" Aoi cursed, spitting blood onto the ground. "Keep the kid up!"
Elder Takara groaned, looking around as tears welled in her eyes. She didn't argue before moving toward me and immediately pressing her remaining hand against my stomach, trying to hold me together. Her other arm was just a cauterized stump, a permanent reminder of the dwarf's dust release.
Aoi looked around at the others. His face twisted in frustration when he saw them unresponsive. He cursed again, turned around, and ran off into the ruined compound, completely ignoring the massive laceration bleeding through his own side.
I looked up at Takara even as my vision swam. "I doubt you’ll do much like that, you old hag. Is there any point in this?"
She ignored me, but I could see the life draining out of her. Her chakra felt weird.
Nagisa stirred from the rubble nearby. She dragged herself over, coughing blood onto the stones. Her hands glowed with a faint green light after sharing a grim look with Takara-sama.
I wasn’t sure if I was delirious at this point, but it was warm. It felt nice.
Mashiro and Kiyoshi remained completely still, looking with dead eyes at the sky. They didn’t speak.
Heavy, rapid footsteps echoed through the house. Aoi returned, clutching a wooden mask in his bloody hands. It was the visage of a stoic, many-eyed demon.
He slammed the mask onto his face and, without a single moment of hesitation, he drew his tanto and drove it straight into his own stomach.
I choked on my own blood. "What are you doing?"
Aoi grunted, dropping to his knees. "You are the only one left who can carry our line. No one else can."
I forced my eyes toward the comatose Kiyoshi. "Kiyoshi... she’s better suited for it."
I shook my head firmly, my eyes begging as I looked at the tense Elder.
"She is not meant for this," Aoi spat out, twisting the blade deeper into his gut. "She broke. You didn't."
The air pressure plummeted. A strange weight against my chest made me wince in pain.
My breath misted as the temperature dropped.
Elder Aoi nodded to Takara and Nagisa. It felt… sad. Final.
Then he looked at the being that appeared in front of him.
"I offer my willpower. For the future of our line."
Takara let out a long, sad sigh. She looked down at me; her eyes filled with tears. "I offer my knowledge. I’m sorry, Itsuki-kun."
Nagisa smiled sadly, even as the blood pooled below her.
She patted my head softly like she used to do. "I offer my senses. And I hope they guide you onto a peaceful death."
A suffocating silence fell over the ruins. Elder Aoi looked at the two comatose survivors with a deep frown.
Kiyoshi’s eyes met mine.
They were entirely blank, staring with a sense of profound pain. "I offer my bloodline," she murmured, her voice barely whispering. "Purer than the one he has." She rolled her head slightly, offering me a weak, teasing smile. "I am sorry I wasn't strong enough, Itsuki. But you were always the better ninja."
Everyone looked at Mashiro as he did nothing. He was completely lost inside his own mind.
Aoi sighed sadly before he nodded to himself. He ripped the tanto from his own gut, leaned over, and plunged the blade directly into Mashiro's neck.
"And we offer his vitality," Aoi declared firmly.
The oppressive chill localized around Aoi's masked face. Kirokukami was here. The entity looked at everyone in absolute silence and then gave a single, minute nod.
And something started.
A dark, almost malicious orb ripped itself from Aoi's chest and floated into the center of the room. Takara gasped as a glowing blue orb literally came out of her head and flew into the same place.
Mashiro's corpse withered into a dried husk as a dense red mist joined the rest. Nagisa went completely blind, her eyes turning stark white before she collapsed. Finally, Kiyoshi's chest stopped moving, her blood leaving her body under my very eyes before it condensed into a single, golden drop that held everything together.
I couldn't stop crying. Tears mixed with the dirt and the blood on my face as I watched my family die. The last of us.
I was the last true Uzumaki.
"Make them remember, Itsuki," Takara whispered, her body crumbling into ash. "Make everyone remember why the Uzumaki were feared. Make them pay… all of them."
They were gone.
Then, the being chuckled. A soft, grating sound that built into a full cackle.
"Oh, mortals are so amusing," the voice ground directly into my skull. "Usually, we gods ignore your cheek. Especially your clan's."
Why… why was it speaking? I had read about the forbidden justu our family practiced. They weren’t supposed to be present.
"But this moment," Kirokukami continued, looking down at me through the mask, "is simply too amusing not to participate."
The god paused, tilting Aoi's dying head. "The combined sacrifice is not enough for what is to come. But you... You might be the answer. Perhaps I can waive the missing part."
I struggled against the divine weight that grew exponentially. "Why?" I managed to croak out.
"Because I do what I believe is best," the God replied, sounding entirely too amused. "Maybe you'll learn what seals were always meant to be."
And then, everything slammed into my body.
The gaping wound on my stomach knitted together in seconds. A profound, terrifying calmness washed over my panic. Then my head throbbed in pain as knowledge, pure knowledge, carved itself into my brain.
It felt like my brain would leak out of my nostrils, but before that could happen, I felt something lock everything somewhere I couldn’t reach.
"You will earn the knowledge, boy," the Scribe whispered. “Little by little, seal by seal. You’ll have to be the very best and show me you’re the answer for what is to come.”
The wooden mask cracked right down the middle. The God chuckled one last time before Aoi's body collapsed into dust, leaving me completely alone in the ruins of my home.
But I couldn’t ask what I wanted. My eyes closed despite my best effort, and I knew no more.