The clash between blade and forgotten language shattered the silence of the ancient temple. Sparks flew, chakra hummed, and time seemed to slow around Akari as he danced between the ruins. The woman's attacks didn't follow any technique he'd learned or countered before—each whispered word warped the air, commanding nature itself with an eerie precision.
He dove behind a fallen pillar as vines burst from the ground, snaking toward him like live serpents.
"This isn't ninjutsu," he thought. "This is something... older."
He activated his chakra flow and, in a swift burst, cut through the advancing vines. The woman watched him with amusement, her fingers glowing faintly with violet light.
"You're not like the others," she said. "There's silence in your soul. A kind of emptiness."
Akari didn't answer. He focused, eyes narrowing, blade ready.
She smiled and continued. "That's why they chose you. Why he trusts you. But even trust cracks under truth."
Without warning, she slammed her palm into the ground and muttered a word that had no translation—only sensation. A wave of invisible force swept over the temple, flipping stones, bending trees, and knocking Akari off his feet.
He landed hard, breath knocked from his lungs.
In the swirling dust, she walked toward him. "You are fire tempered in shadow. But fire consumes. What happens when your own flame turns on the village you love?"
Akari forced himself to his feet, his grip tightening on his sword. "You talk too much."
He vanished—reappearing behind her in a flicker of light. She turned just in time to parry the strike with a curved blade that hadn't been there before.
Steel met steel. Chakra flared.
And then—she laughed.
Not a cruel laugh. A knowing one.
"You really think you're ready?" she whispered. "This was just the first Word."
Before he could respond, her body dissolved into black petals, scattering into the wind.
Gone.
Akari stood alone among the ruins again, heart racing, sweat clinging to his skin. But the danger had passed.
For now.
---
Later That Night – Hokage Tower
"You said she used no hand seals?" Madara's voice was calm, but the sharpness in his eyes was unmistakable.
"None. Just words. It was like... each one bent reality a little more." Akari stood straight despite the weight in his muscles. "She called it the First Word."
Madara sat back in his chair, folding his hands in thought.
"If they're using the Nine Words again… then the world isn't ready. Not for that kind of power."
Akari remained silent.
Madara leaned forward. "We'll need more than shadows and steel. You've trained in Konoha's greatest techniques. But if you are to face these relics, you must learn from before there were jutsu."
Akari raised an eyebrow. "You mean... the origin of chakra?"
"No," Madara said. "Something deeper. Something that even the Sage of Six Paths feared."
A cold silence settled in the room.
"What's your command?" Akari finally asked.
Madara looked at him with something that resembled pride—but was shaded with regret. "You leave tonight. There's a monastery in the northern peaks. Few know of it. They've guarded secrets older than our clans. Go there. Learn what you can."
"And if they refuse?"
Madara's eyes gleamed.
"They won't."
---
Dawn – Konoha's Northern Gate
Akari stood in the early morning light, watching the gates open before him. Wind tugged at his cloak. Behind him, the village began to stir—innocent, unaware.
He whispered, "I won't let it burn."
And then he walked.
Toward snow-covered peaks. Toward truths buried in time.
Toward the flame that waited at the edge of the world.