for the love of kungfu

Monkeys had rough hands.

That was the thought that zoomed across my mind as Lord Enma's massive palm pressed against the nape of my neck, my feet dangling two or three feet off the ground, my face blasted by monkey breath.

Smelled like fruit and vitriol.

My stomach roiled with fear as I stared into golden eyes glaring right back at me. It took a moment to process what he'd just said.

"Senjutsu?" I questioned, the unfamiliar term tripping off my tongue. The pieces of it suggested something to do with sages... or the number three—Japanese is confusing.

Lord Enma didn't respond immediately. He sized me up instead, watching me closely.

"You're not lying," he said, eyes narrowed.

"Enma?" came my sensei's voice, calm but sharp.

"This was grown with Senjutsu," Enma replied, holding up my Ki-wood.

"Wood Release?" Sarutobi-sensei asked, all joviality fleeing his tone. I perked up at that.

"No. This is not what Lord Hashirama did," Enma said flatly. I couldn't tell if I was relieved or disappointed.

"It's close," he admitted, "but still a ways off."

Now I didn't know whether to feel hopeful or anxious.

That brought up a question.

"Wood Release isn't a bloodline?" I asked, wondering if I'd been sleeping on a legendary wizard this whole time.

"That is… a complicated question, Izuku-kun."

"A question for another time. Boy—how did you make this?" Enma asked.

I pondered the best way to answer.

"Do you think a fish can conceive of a world with no water?" I said.

"I mean, is the space we inhabit empty? How would you know—if you haven't experienced a true void?"

It was something that had haunted my thoughts as I pondered the nature of Ki and the possibility of its existence. The training I undertook to sense it would've been useful either way, but I still came up with theories to justify the effort—real theories, grounded in more than just fantasy novels from another world.

Enma looked confused. Sensei looked intrigued. I pressed on.

"Killing intent," I said.

They both blinked at the seemingly random statement.

"Sarutobi-sensei's killing intent covered the entire village. I know he's powerful—but he's not a Tailed Beast. He shouldn't have enough chakra to blanket the whole area. So how did everyone feel it?"

I leaned in as much as I could while being held like an unruly cat.

"What medium carried it if he wasn't even actively exuding chakra?"

I paused.

"There had to be something in between. I wanted to find out what that was. And in doing so, I discovered an energy that seemed to cover everything."

"How?" Enma interrupted.

"How what?" I asked.

"How did you discover this… energy field?"

"Meditation. To foster my spiritual energy and create stronger chakra."

Enma nodded. I continued.

"I didn't know what would happen if I interacted with it directly, but there had to be a reason it wasn't widely known. Either it was incredibly dangerous, incredibly powerful, or both. I guessed both."

I said this to an increasingly stone-faced Lord Enma and an incredibly smug-looking Hokage.

"So I wondered if I could create a sort of buffer—a tool to interact with it more safely. Then I had the idea: use wood from Hashirama trees to craft a focus and… well…"

I waved vaguely toward the Ki-wood in Enma's hand.

Said monkey man was now watching me with a new fire in his eyes. My sensei wore a proud expression tinged with grieving nostalgia.

They both fell silent. That made me extremely nervous. And like most intelligent children, when I got nervous, my mouth ran away from me.

"Am I in trouble? Because I was totally safe this time. Like, no danger at all. I didn't even strain myself physically. I just sat in one place with a potted plant in my lap. I mean, yeah, there was a possibility of petrification, but I caught it before it became an issue. Sarutobi-sensei, you have to believe—"

My tirade was cut off as I was dropped in the dirt.

I fell two feet from Enma's grip, but thankfully, hours of training let me land gracefully. It also helped me react to what came next.

"Defend yourself."

Instinct honed by Kakashi's sadistic ambushes had me dodging back, arms raised to absorb the blow. Even so, it made my arms creak with strain as I was sent flying across the wooded clearing.

I cast Mage Armor mid-air and shifted into a landing stance.

I needed it. Lord Enma was already waiting when I landed.

I lashed out with a chakra-backed haymaker the moment he came in range. He slapped it aside and whirled—delivering a spinning roundhouse kick (or was it a backhand, given the whole hand-feet thing?)—smashing me in the face and sending me rolling.

When I found my feet, he was on me again.

I almost panicked. Almost.

But I calmed the waters of my mind. Found that place of unbreakable focus.

Emotion became distant.

All extraneous thought vanished.

There was nothing left. Nothing but the fight.

I slipped under Lord Enma's jab and delivered a full-powered roundhouse to his floating ribs. With how much my chakra enhancement and Mage Armor had improved this week, that punch would've reduced Mizuki to a fine mist.

Lord Enma grunted. Barely.

Then I was airborne. Again.

"You've got control, boy—but you're doing it wrong," he said with a bloodthirsty grin. "Had to beat that habit outta Hiruzen too. Looks like I'll have to do the same with you."

I didn't respond. I squatted low, surged chakra through my legs, and launched forward like a cannonball.

He dodged and flicked a jab at my face. I weaved under it—

It was a feint.

His real target?

My legs.

The one part Mage Armor couldn't protect.

Have you ever been leg-kicked before?

I have. Lee loved leg kicks. They hurt like hell. But I was getting used to them.

Or at least, I thought I was.

The back of Enma's hand-foot smacked the spot just above my knee. My right leg turned to jelly.

My stance faltered.

My focus didn't.

My mind was a still pon—

A fist to the face jarred my skull and sent me sprawling.

I'm pretty sure I blacked out for a moment.

"You're calm," Enma said. I pulled my face from the dirt to look at him. "But calm can only get you so far, kid." His golden eyes glowed.

"You need more than calm. You need guts."

He smiled a fanged smile.

My instinct was to ignore it—just another bit of psychological warfare. Kakashi never missed a chance to verbally eviscerate me in training. But something in Enma's tone gave me pause.

There was sincerity in it.

If he was who I suspected—or descended from who I suspected—then he had to admire fire. Grit. Passion.

You didn't fight Heaven by being a calm and reasonable person.

It brought back a memory I couldn't shake: my first spar with Lee. That last punch… I'd never hit that hard again, even now.

Maybe Enma was right. Maybe what I was missing was passion.

I didn't take my eyes off him, but I slipped into my mindscape.

The surface was clear—calm. I let the emotions return.

Fear.

Agitation.

Anger.

Desperation.

Spite.

Stubbornness.

They churned, boiling the pond into a raging typhoon. I didn't let it run wild—I focused it. Bent it to my will.

The storm collapsed into a frothing whirlpool of passion.

I poured every ounce of my being into this moment—into this fight.

"Ohhohoh, those are some nice eyes, boy," Enma laughed, that wild, primal laugh of his. "Now—show me what you've got."

I felt a spark of irritation at his casual tone and fed it to the storm.

My chakra shifted. It was half spiritual—by suppressing my emotions, I'd been cutting it off from something vital.

I crouched low. This time, when I launched, the earth cratered. Grass exploded outward.

The air tore around me, Mage Armor groaning under the pressure as I flew toward the Monkey King.

I pulled back my fist—and a scream ripped its way out of my throat as I punched with everything I had.

Enma met it, grinning like a madman.

The world broke.

My ears popped from the pressure drop. Air fled the force of our clash. The forest floor cratered. My feet sank ankle-deep into the earth.

That punch would be heard for miles.

And Enma?

"Now that's what I'm talking about!" he roared, laughing like a lunatic.

He was fine.

Cackling in joy.

If I were in my right mind, I might've ended the fight there. But I wasn't.

In that moment, I couldn't conceive of a world where I didn't beat this monkey into the dirt.

I struck again. My other fist reeled back.

I was almost dry. That last move had already wrung out my reserves. Another blow like that might hospitalize me. Or kill me.

I didn't care.

I couldn't care.

My fist was nearly at full draw—

Then the world skipped.

I was suddenly staring at Lord Enma's thumb, his index finger curled behind it.

"Nice scrap, brat—but don't go hurting yourself."

He flicked me.

Mage Armor shattered like glass. My head snapped back. My vision spun. My brain rattled around in my skull.

Black.

This time, I was out for maybe a second. No more.

I lay in the dirt, my body screaming to stop. I ignored it.

This fight ended when I said so.

"You did good, kid. But the fight's over."

I felt the ground shift beside my head, felt the warmth of fur as Enma squatted beside me.

I tried to rise. My body wouldn't move. But my mouth still worked.

"…fuck… you…"

Silence.

Then a snort from my sensei. And a begrudging grunt from Enma.

"…Okay, Hiruzen. You were right."

He flipped me over so I could see him. The grin was gone. His eyes searched me.

"…I like this one."

Then he stood up.

And my vision filled with his descending foot.

—Scene break—

I groaned again as Naruko gently massaged the pungent medicinal salve into my bruised forehead.

"Come on," she huffed, "it can't hurt that bad. Jiji said you'll be fine by tomorrow."

I let out a particularly pitiful whimper, milking the moment.

"That man is a vicious tyrant," I muttered. "Him and his damn monkey."

Sarutobi sensei had healed me of the worst of it but had left a significant amount of damage to heal naturally, something about medical ninjutsu removing the stimulus for physical adaptation meaning a little pain was necessary.

In other words like a true Wizard, he enjoyed watching his students suffer. I could respect the wizardry and still be pissed at him.

"…Does it really hurt that much?" Naruko asked, her voice suddenly soft.

I paused my theatrics at the shift in tone. Opening my eyes, I looked up at her from my place in her lap. Her golden twin ponytails framed her face, forming a halo that made her already cherubic features look positively angelic.

A fitting image, really—especially with her chakra shining around her in warm, radiant waves. It pulsed with joy and boundless affection, bright and blinding. But beneath it, I could feel the shadows. Scars she kept hidden. No one lived her life and came out untouched.

Still… that light was real. All hers. And it made her chakra beautiful in a way none of my other senses could really process.

I didn't want to dim that light.

"Sorry," I murmured. "I was just being dramatic."

"Well stop it!" she pouted. "This isn't something to joke about!"

"Oh, that's rich," I shot back, grinning. "Coming from the Prankster Queen of Konoha."

"I haven't pranked anyone all week!" she huffed, pout deepening.

"…You haven't, have you?" I squinted up at her. "Who are you, and what have you done with Naruko?"

"Izukuuuu," she whined, dragging my name out with a theatrical groan—but didn't stop tending to the spot where Enma had shattered my mage armor. With a single flick of his massive finger. Damn beast.

I won't lie though—he knew his stuff.

That training session nearly broke me, but it forced a realization: I'd been holding back too much. Suppressing my emotions in a fight gave me more control. But that also choked off my spiritual energy. And that weakened my chakra.

Still, the answer wasn't to go full berserker either. I'd nearly killed myself today, just because I wouldn't stay down. If that had been a real battle, I might've died simply because I didn't know when to retreat—or talk.

A rustling in the grass broke my thoughts. Hinata trudged over, dirty and drenched in sweat, barely managing a grunt of greeting. She looked like she'd been through a warzone.

"Looks like it's my turn!" Naruko chirped, way too cheerful for someone who'd just been trading blows with Lee for over an hour. She scooped me up in a bridal carry—my face flushed, but I was too exhausted to complain—and unceremoniously dumped me in Hinata's lap.

Then she darted off toward the bouncing blur that was Lee.

"I-Izuku-kun…" Hinata murmured, blinking down at me.

"Hey, Hinata."

Her chakra felt like moonlight—cool and serene, shimmering silver hidden in a soft blue glow. Despite her flustered expression, she didn't push me away. Instead, she adjusted her posture, cradling me in her lap just as Naruko had.

Across the field, Neji—sparring with Tenten—flared with silent displeasure. I didn't need to look at him to sense it.

I ignored it. I didn't know what his problem was, and right now I had a pretty bluenette holding me. That took priority.

Hinata's chakra flared again, catching my attention. Her eyes closed, her Byakugan activating as she slipped into meditation. But I could feel the storm of frustration boiling inside her.

"Still having trouble?" I asked gently when she opened her eyes again. Her face crumpled. I could feel the self-recrimination seeping into her chakra like poison.

I bit down the urge to tell her to stop blaming herself. She already knew it wasn't helping—pointing it out wouldn't make it easier.

"Want me to help again?"

"Yes!" she blurted before shrinking into herself. "I-I mean… if you want to… please…"

I smiled. Hinata really was too cute.

"Alright. Just relax."

I closed my eyes and cast one of my most-used jutsu—a thin thread of yin chakra extended from me to her. Her mind met it halfway, and our thoughts linked.

Without needing a prompt, Hinata activated her Byakugan again—and through her eyes, I saw the world from a god's eye view.

But something was different.

Has your range increased? I asked silently.

She didn't reply, but the burst of embarrassed pride and glowing flattery was answer enough. Hinata really was too humble for her own good.

Regardless, I would do my best to help out.

Try identifying all your worries, I sent. Everything that makes you anxious. Face them, and see what they come from.

I hoped this approach would make her less worried, by identifying her anxieties and putting them in their place.

She did as I asked.

And together, we reached an obvious conclusion: Hinata worried because she cared.

She worried about her prowess because she loved and wished to protect many people. She looked down on herself because she loved her father and wanted to meet his expectations, it went on and on. Every worry was rooted in her affections.

Okay… now try listing the things you care about. Hold them in your heart.

She focused. Her favorite foods. Her favorite flower. The clothes she liked most. Her love for Naruko. Her love for—

Me?

I blinked in shock.

But Hinata was deep in trance now, and my thoughts bounced off the wall of her focus.

Then I felt it.

Her range—already absurd—ballooned from one kilometer to six. Her Byakugan swept the landscape like divine light.

But even more than that, her focus zeroed in on the ongoing fight between Naruko and Lee.

Naruko was losing. Of course she was. Lee had her beat in speed, strength, and technique. But Naruko was holding on, ducking and weaving with unpredictable movements and uncanny resilience.

Lee launched into a flying kick. Naruko dove beneath it, aimed a cheeky strike at his groin—missed, obviously, because even midair Lee was a freakish athlete.

Something about it didn't sit right. My chakra sense didn't match that.

I opened my eyes.

And watched the exact same scene play out.

Frame for frame.

My head snapped toward Hinata—and then I noticed her aura. It was growing faint.

She was burning through her chakra.

Hinata! I shouted in our mental link.

But she couldn't hear me. Her thoughts were barricaded behind the very emotions that had empowered her: love, compassion, devotion.

She had done it.

She had found the fuel we'd been searching for—the emotion to elevate the Byakugan.

But it wasn't what I expected.

I had thought indifference meant shutting the world out. Apathy.

But Hinata had found something else entirely.

Equanimity.

She didn't stop caring—she cared equally, about everything and everyone, more than herself.

And her Byakugan surged with divine power because of it.

But it was killing her chakra reserves.

I knew I had to break the trance. But pain wouldn't work—I could feel that physical discomfort wouldn't reach her.

I hesitated.

Then acted.

I cupped her cheeks, leaned in, and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to her lips.

The trance shattered like glass.

"I-Zuku! Y-you—"

"Sorry," I whispered. "I panicked."

Hinata stared cheeks a rosy red, then she fainted.

Silence reigned.

I looked up—and every single person in the training field was staring at us.

Of course they were.

How do I keep getting into situations like this?

—Scene break—

The tunnels beneath Konoha were a twisting labyrinth of stone and shadow. For him, they held as many memories of fellowship and purpose as they did of pain and desperation.

He had never wanted to return.

He had hoped—prayed, even—that Sasuke would end his life before he ever set foot in these depths again. But the status quo had to be preserved. His "masters" had to be managed, and safeguards had to be laid—for Sasuke's sake, if nothing else.

He followed a familiar passage, his steps echoing in the still air, until he reached the hidden chamber. His vision had begun to fail him over the years—darkness weighed heavier than it once did—but not so much that he missed what was wrong here.

Two Root agents stood out in the open, flanking Danzo's chair, unmoving.

That was wrong.

There should have been more—hidden, watching, ready to strike. Yet he couldn't sense another soul. The silence was absolute. His instincts prickled. He began molding chakra under his skin, just in case.

"Lord Danzo, you summoned me," he said aloud, his voice calm but wary.

He didn't expect the reply.

Especially not from the mouth it came from.

"Itachi-kun."

Itachi spun, Sharingan briefly flaring to life on reflex.

And froze.

Standing there, as composed and unassuming as ever, was Hiruzen Sarutobi.

Itachi dropped to one knee. "Hokage-sama."

"Stand, Itachi-kun. If anyone has earned the right to dispense with formality in my presence, it is you."

Itachi rose slowly, eyes flicking toward Danzo.

"Lord Danzo did not call for me."

"No," Hiruzen said mildly. "No, he did not."

Something shifted in the room.

It was subtle, almost imperceptible. A flicker of movement, the twitch of breath. Itachi glanced at the Root agents. For a moment, he thought his eyes deceived him.

They were trembling.

The elite—faceless, nameless, emotionless Root—were trembling.

"…Lord Third?" he asked, his tone carefully neutral.

"Hm?" Sarutobi replied, the same way a retired teacher might answer a polite question from a student.

"Danzo has not… spoken."

"Ah," Sarutobi nodded, turning to face the unmoving form. "Well, he is a very important man, Itachi-kun. His words are precious."

That's when Itachi heard it—the faint hiss of air moving through tubes, the hum of machinery, a whirring pulse in the silence.

With a flicker of chakra, his Sharingan bloomed fully.

The darkness fell away.

And what he saw chilled him to the marrow.

Danzo sat in his chair—if sitting was even the right word. His face was a ruin: pale skin pulled taut over hollow cheeks, black stitches weaving across what remained of his features. Portions of flesh were missing, exposing the ivory white of his skull. One eye socket was an open, glistening wound.

And below his neck—there was no neck.

Danzo's head rested on a grotesque construct: a wooden pedestal bolted to the floor. Beneath it, tubes and machines hissed and pulsed, red liquid pumping rhythmically, keeping what remained of his body alive. Two pale pink lung-bags expanded and deflated in time with the mechanical sounds, tethered to what must have been his remaining respiratory system.

Itachi suddenly understood the terror in the Root agents' chakra.

He was beginning to feel it himself.

"Lord Third," he said slowly, voice steady only by force of years of training and will.

"Hm?" Sarutobi hummed again, eyes distant, hands folded peacefully behind his back.

"…Danzo's condition?"

"Oh, don't mind that, Itachi-kun," Hiruzen said gently. "My old friend merely needed… guidance. As his leader, I saw it as my duty to provide it."

His tone was kind. Grandfatherly.

It made Itachi's skin crawl.

"I was fair. Objective, even. Left him the ability to serve his home. That's all any of us want, isn't it?"

He gestured casually to the horror on the pedestal, as though presenting a bonsai tree.

"Some of these punishments may seem lenient, but you must remember…" Sarutobi's expression softened further, a fond smile spreading across his lips as he stared at Danzo's mutilated form.

"Danzo only ever acted… for the good of the village."