Naruto : Dragon Jinchuriki

Chiyo thrashed beneath the thin blanket, sweat clinging to her scarred face.

Her vision began down a twisting dirt path closed in by tall cliffs; the sky above was smothered by dark clouds, Rain threatened to fall at any moment. Jiraiya walked ahead, his movements steady yet watchful.

Riku followed closely, his white eyes scanning the path ahead, his face as calm and inscrutable as ever. Chiyo lagged just behind them, her feet dragging slightly as if she already sensed the weight of what lay ahead.

Then she saw him.

A boy stood in the center of the path, tall and broad despite his apparent youth. His muscular frame was impossible to ignore, his strength evident in the way he carried himself—a figure carved from toil and survival. Thick black hair coiled past his shoulders in wild spirals, framing a face that looked both youthful and weary.

His eyes were a bright blue, small yet piercing, and they latched onto Chiyo as if she was the only figure on the path. In his hand, he clutched an axe, its blade dull from wear but no less threatening in its steady grip.

Jiraiya raised a hand, halting the group. "You lost, kid?" he called, his tone calm but cautious.

The boy's hand tightened on his axe, but he didn't lift it. His stare never left Chiyo; his expression was unreadable, yet undeniably intense.

"Chiyo," he said as if the word had somehow escaped his lips as a revelation.

By the sound of her name, she froze. "Do I know you?" she asked, her tone hesitant, though something right deep inside her stirred because of the familiarity in the way he had said that.

The boy took another step forward, and with this movement, his arm and shoulder muscles seemed to ripple beneath his plain and worn-out clothes. He did not raise the axe, but every move was both deliberate and cautious.

"You don't remember me?" he asked in a quiet tone laced with something fragile, almost desperate.

She blinked, her heart racing, as she stared at him. The coiled hair, the striking blue eyes, the faint tilt of his head as he spoke-it all felt hauntingly familiar, a thread she couldn't quite grasp.

The boy clenched his jaw, looking down a moment as if gathering his thoughts, before looking back up at her, his blue eyes swimming with emotion. "It's me, Kristian."

The name hit her like a blow. Memories, half-forgotten and fragmented, rushed to the surface.

Running through fields with a boy who could run faster than anyone in the village, sharing stolen peaches beneath the shade of a tree, and then the last memory, being ripped from him, screaming his name as strange hands dragged her into the night.

"Kristian…" she whispered, the name trembling on her lips.

He nodded, his grip on the axe slackening. "You're alive," he said, his voice cracking. "All this time, I thought—" He stopped, shaking his head.

His words stumbled and fell, his breath letting go suddenly, his expression hardening as if he couldn't afford to be vulnerable. "You don't look the same," he said finally, his gaze flicking to the pair next to her. "But it's you. I, Hah!— I know it is."

Chiyo's heart ached with the years weighed upon her chest like a stone between them. "Kristian, I—"

"Don't," he interrupted, his voice sharper now. "You don't have to explain. Not yet."

The path around them blurred, the storm above them crackling faintly as the dream began to dissolve. The last thing she saw was Kristian's face, torn between joy and grief, before everything went dark.

"Come find me."

Chiyo started awake with a jarring gasp, shooting upright in the darkness of the room. Her breath came in short scuffles, her scarred face stinging as if the memories themselves had left a mark. She pressed a shaking hand against her chest, over her hammering heart.

"Kristian…" she whispered, her voice low, her lips weighing the heft of the name for the first time in years.

The vision of him had burned in her mind as if she had seen him yesterday, though until now, she had thought him lost to her forever, buried beneath the cold ashes of her past.

And she couldn't get rid of the feeling that very soon, their paths would cross again.

Chiyo's breaths came in sharp, uneven gasps as she blinked into the dim glow of the room. Her fingers trembled as she wiped her face, only to feel an unexpected wetness on her cheeks.

Tears.

She never cried anymore, rarely, but now the saltiness clung to her skin. It wasn't the tears that surprised her, though-it was the lack of tightness in the scarred skin that did.

Her hand froze mid-motion, fingertips brushing her left cheek. Slowly, almost fearfully, she traced the lines of her face, expecting to feel the ridges and dips of the burn that had marked her since that day a month or so ago. But the skin was smooth—soft and unblemished.

"No." she whispered. Her voice was shaking. Out of bed, she seemed to trip over the bunching sheets and ran for the small, warped mirror resting on a shelf.

The moonlight caught her reflection, and her breath hitched.

Gone was the scar that had marred half her face for so many days. Her pale lavender eye shone now unobstructed, clear and unmarred, a match for its twin. On her cheeks, the faintest pink glow remained, and her tears shone like tiny droplets of liquid starlight.

Chiyo lifted a shaking hand to her cheek. "How…?" she whispered.

Her mind went back to the vision, to the boy, Kristian, and the memories he had brought out. She was crying in her sleep, but these were no ordinary tears. She'd always known her lineage held something special, something in connection with her mother's sacred duties and their family link with the Land of Demons. Her tears had to hold that power-the magic-healing what she thought would never be able to be healed.

The sound of footsteps broke her daze.

The door to her room slid open just a crack to admit Riku's white eyes. For once, the stoic planes of his face carried an edge of concern. "I heard noise," he said quietly. "You all right?"

Chiyo stepped back from the mirror, the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. "Riku…" Her voice cracked as she gestured vaguely at her face. "Look."

Riku's eyes shifted slightly, scanning her features. For a long moment, he didn't say anything, his face unreadable. Finally, he stepped into the room, his gaze lingering on her unscarred cheek.

"It's gone," he said simply.

She nodded, her hands trembling at her sides. "I don't understand," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It happened while I was sleeping. I—I had a vision, and when I woke up…" Riku's head tilted slightly, his sharp eyes narrowing. "A vision?"

Chiyo nodded again, swallowing hard. "Of Kristian. A boy I knew when I was little. We were close… before I was taken." Her voice faltered, her hand tightening into a fist. "He was there, in the vision. He looked so different—stronger, taller. But he knew me."

Riku's gaze didn't falter, but there was a flicker of something in his expression-understanding, maybe even sympathy.

Chiyo hesitated, her thoughts still racing. "Kristian… he's not just someone from my past. I think he's going to cross our path soon."

"And your scar?" Riku asked, his voice calm but insistent.

"I don't know," Chiyo admitted, her hand brushing her cheek again. "I think it was my tears. They felt… warm, like they carried something else. I think… it's connected to my mother, to the priestess's powers."

Riku nodded slowly, thinking back to the day he was continuously being burnt from the inside out 'The pain did go away when her tears fell down my back…' absorbing her words. "If that's true, you may have more abilities tied to your lineage than you realize. Powers you haven't tapped into yet."

Chiyo's throat choked up. The idea sent a thrill through her but also terrified her beyond reason. "I don't know what it means," she whispered. "But I feel like everything's starting to come together, and I don't know if I'm ready for it."

Riku's silver eyes softened, just slightly. "You don't have to be ready," he said. "You just have to keep moving forward.

Chiyo let out a shaky breath, nodding. "Thank you," she said, her voice steadier now.

Riku inclined his head, his usual stoicism returning. "Get some rest," he said, stepping toward the door. "You'll need it."

As he slipped back into the hallway, Chiyo stood in the quiet room, her reflection in the mirror staring back at her—a face she hadn't seen in years, now whole again.

But the relief was short-lived, her mind lingering on Kristian's face in the vision. If he was truly out there, what role would he play in the journey to come? And how could she face him, knowing the years they had lost?

Her fingers traced across her unscarred cheek once more before she sank into bed, the questions swirling in her mind until finally sleep took her again.

…

…

Riku leaned against the corridor wall outside Chiyo's room, arms crossed casually, his short black and white hair hair falling lazily into his eyes. His usual carefree smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he replayed the strange conversation from just a moment ago. Chiyo's scar, gone in the blink of an eye? Magic tears?

"Man," he muttered to himself with a low chuckle, "this world just keeps getting weirder."

Revelations concerning Chiyo's lineage and powers, possibly overwhelming to another mind, Riku had long since decided to roll with whatever surprises came his way. That was the key to surviving in a place like this-or at least that's what he told himself. Even so, there was just something about all of this that nagged him, like an itch he could never quite scratch.

He rubbed the back of his neck, squinting into the dark hallway. "The Demon Country, huh?" he muttered.

Knowing about the Land of Demons and actually going there were two entirely different things. He remembered that movie -the cursed priestess line, the shadow of Mōryō, and the unbroken circle of sacrifice and tragedy.

"Chiyo's got it tough," he reflected, drawing away from the wall, and down the hall with a languid pace. Hands in his pockets, he went along loose-shouldered. "Kidnapped when a child, saddled with this priestess business, now all of this. Little wonder she's as tightly strung as she is."

Despite the lightness in his voice, a flicker of real concern crossed his face. He glanced back toward her door. Chiyo had been through hell, and now it seemed like fate was tossing her right back into the fire.

But Riku wasn't one to overthink things. Whatever was coming, they'd deal with it when they got there. That was his way. Plan too much, and you lose sight of the fun.

He stretched his arms above his head, yawning as he wandered into the courtyard. "Still," he said aloud, his tone lighter, "that Kristian kid… if he's part of all this, that's gonna be interesting."

The image of the boy from Chiyo's vision popped into his mind. Big, strong, with an axe slung over his shoulder. Riku smirked to himself. "Sounds like the kind of guy who'd punch first, ask questions never. How come someone like that wasn't in the show… maybe Boruto? Oh well I could care less about that."

But there was more to Kristian than this, Riku could feel it. If Chiyo had seen him, there was bound to be some reason for such a thing. This world wasn't known to deal in coincidences.

He plopped down onto the edge of a stone step, resting his chin in his hand as he stared up at the moonlit sky. "A lost childhood friend, huh?" he murmured. "Bet that's gonna be awkward."

Riku chuckled, shaking his head. Awkward or not, he didn't doubt that they'd cross paths with Kristian soon. If the Land of Demons was on their horizon, that meant danger, drama, and probably some ridiculously overpowered enemies to deal with.

His white eyes sparkled with mischief. "Guess we're all in for an interesting ride," he said, smirking to himself.

As much as Riku liked to keep things light, he couldn't completely disregard the weight of what was to come: Chiyo's powers, Kristian's role, the dangers of the Land of Demons. It felt like pieces of a puzzle were clicking into place.

But he supposed there was no sense in worrying about it now. Riku stood, dusting off imaginary dust, and then strolled back toward the hall. Whatever challenges were going to be thrown their way, one thing was sure: they'd deal with it at the time.

In the meantime, he'd just continue to do what he did best—training.