Naruto: Rise of the Fallen Princess

A week had passed, and with it, a growing sense of calm had settled over the Iron Capital. That calm, however, broke the moment Hinata felt it—Zetsu's presence, slipping away like mist across cold stone. His soul moved with purpose.

And she knew where it was going.

The direction was unmistakable: the same path that connected her to Fū. Far—far—from Takigakure. Too far. The conclusion was simple: Fū was on a mission. One most likely orchestrated—or at the very least, anticipated—by Akatsuki.

This was the time to act. If they wanted to save her, it had to start with convincing Fū to come willingly.

That night, beneath the perpetual moonlight of Yumegakure, Hinata made her way to a secluded cottage nestled near a cascading waterfall. The air shimmered with silver light—the place sat atop one of Yumegakure's most stable Silver Nodes. The faint hum of spiritual energy resonated through the rocks and trees, a calming pulse.

She knew this was where Jiren and Fū retreated each night. The cottage reflected Jiren's cultivation traditions: smooth wooden beams, paper lanterns with seal inscriptions, and a meditation platform that overlooked the waterfall's plunge. A small herb garden nestled against the rocks; its scent was calming.

As Hinata approached, she found Fū playing with glowing spirit fish along the edge of the stream, laughing to herself while trying to catch them with her bare hands. Nearby, Jiren stood shirtless, practicing a flowing sequence of internal martial movements—breathing in harmony with the node.

They turned as Hinata stepped forward. No words were needed. Her face told them everything.

The moment she looked at Fū, Hinata's spine froze.

Threads of death coiled around her.

Through her soulsight, they were vivid—haunting. A song of inevitability wove between them. Fū, a girl full of warmth and wild joy, stood unknowingly at death's door.

She should have been safe. Kenshiro had embedded the complete Life Seal within her, not just the intermediary talisman. Her survival had been presumed assured.

But Hinata saw the flaw now, bathed in the new and raw clarity her recent experiences have allowed her to realize: Akatsuki had no reason to keep her alive after extraction. Once more, Hinata found herself cornered by her own idealism. Her mistake had placed someone she now called a true friend in mortal danger.

Her mind slipped briefly into darker places—memories of other missteps, of power that had spiraled beyond her grasp. She realized then: this wasn't the first time her good intentions had risked catastrophe.

The Life Seal was supposed to offer Jinchūriki a chance. But as she came to know them, Hinata's hope had grown beyond mere chance. She wanted certainty. Just as she had run to stop the wave born from her mistake, she would now run again to amend this. Starting with Fū.

"Jiren," she said, her voice sharp and urgent. "I'm sorry. Death surrounds Fū. Someone is coming. Powerful. Their target is the Seven-Tails sealed within her."

Jiren tensed, every fiber of his soul attuned to the weight of her words.

Fū blinked, confused. "Don't worry, I'm strong! I've trained so much—I'm sure I can handle whatever comes my way!"

Hinata's expression didn't shift.

Jiren glanced between them and understood. He saw it in Hinata's eyes: she knew what was coming. Or at least, she had a very good idea. His worry for Fū sharpened instantly.

He nodded. "Fū… if Hinata's saying this, it's because it's real. She'd never say this without reason. Hinata-hime… what do you suggest? How do we save her?"

Hinata answered without hesitation. "You and I move now. Kuro will carry us with everything she has—we should arrive rested, ready to fight and hopefully negotiate."

Then she turned to Fū, her tone firmer than ever. "Fū, listen to me. Wake up and run. Anywhere. It doesn't matter where. Just run. We're coming for you. I'll find you—if they don't catch you first."

<<<< o >>>>

My eyes snapped open.

Mitsue was curled beside me, sleeping peacefully. Yet the moment I stirred, her instincts triggered. She shot upright, alert.

"W-what's happening?" she hissed, scanning the room.

I didn't respond with words. My hands were already in motion—slipping into my battle kimono, tightening the straps, grabbing my sword.

"Kuro, wake up! We're leaving now!"

My voice cut through the room like steel. There was no time for explanation—not yet.

Kuro stirred, eyes wide, disoriented. "What? Who? Where? When?!"

She blinked once, twice, only to realize Mitsue had already coiled her serpentine body around me, anchoring herself instinctively.

I strapped my blade to my hip, hand clenched tight around the hilt. With a single, decisive motion, I shattered the paper window of our room and leapt into the night with Kuro right behind me.

We raced through the lantern-lit corridors of my father great Palace. We found Jiren waiting near the front courtyard—already armed, his breath calm but his eyes blazing with urgency to match my own.

Jiren and I leapt onto Kuro's back together. As soon as we landed, her breath deppened, and shadows spiraled around her, drawn inward and dense. Sparks flickered across his fur like embers caught in a storm.

With our path set, we surged forward—silent as wind, swift as lightning.

The alert pierced the stillness of the estate. Guards stirred from their quarters, some rushing into formation, others blinking awake with weapons already drawn. Those who were already awake appeared from balconies, corridors, and gates, reacting to the sudden surge of energy and the distant cry of Kuro's awakening.

Despite the mobilization, Kuro's momentum was unstoppable. Carried on her back, Jiren and I moved with terrifying speed, passing through the numerous barriers and defenses of the Gin Palace—wards and seals meant to stop intruders or delay threats. None of them activated. They knew us. They allowed us.

The sensation of passing through the safeguards wasn't one of defiance, but of natural right—those defenses weren't meant to impede me or Kuro. Our passage had been allowed long ago, written into the very weave of the seals. The palace did not resist—it simply acknowledged our urgency, and parted as intended.

As we moved, I extended my spiritual threads, sending one final message back to my father's residence:

"An emergency calls us. A friend of mine and Jiren's is in mortal danger. We must save her. Only Kuro can get us there in time."

<<<< o >>>>

Kakuzu couldn't fathom how a young girl, carefully funneled into a trap by his loyal agents within Takigakure, had managed to derail their plan so spectacularly.

Everything had been proceeding as intended. They had received word to wait—Zetsu was to be present during the capture to ensure no unexpected visitors stumbled upon the operation, like what happened during the failed extraction of the Six-Tails. The delay had seemed minor.

But then, just hours before Zetsu's arrival, the girl had suddenly awakened and bolted—dragging her team with her in a reckless escape heading toward the Land of Fire. There had been no alarm, no clear trigger.

Someone had warned her.

Or perhaps, more troublingly, this girl possessed an unknown ability not listed in any report.

"Dammit! That bitch really deserves to die… especially now that she's making things annoying," Hidan growled beside him. "She's mine, you know that, right?"

Kakuzu resisted the urge to tear out his partner's throat. "Fine. You can have your fun. But if she dies before the extraction, the cost will be one you can't afford."

He and Hidan reached the clearing where it was clear their target had clashed with one of her teammates. Before them lay the signs of a frantic escape—trampled grass, disturbed earth, scattered drops of blood. One adult set of footprints limped heavily, while three younger ones moved swiftly ahead.

There, sprawled in the center of the clearing, was Kakuzu's agent. Dead. A kunai was buried deep into the center of his skull, but his hands still clutched a bloodied sword. At least he had done some damage before he died.

Kakuzu crouched near the body and examined the blood. The iron scent was sharp—fresh. It was likely from the jōnin guardian assigned to the Jinchūriki. A clean strike, deep enough to cause trouble. Not fatal, but enough.

"They'll tire soon," Kakuzu muttered. "The guardian's wounded. And she—she'll stay behind for them. It's in her file. She never leaves her friends."

"Our prey is already ours," he said, voice calm and absolute. "She just doesn't know it yet."