Chapter 6

The first rays of sunlight pierced through the dense clouds, painting the sky with hues of amber and gold.

Within the mansion of the fire country's daimyo, Sarutobi Asuma, who was part of the twelve guardian ninjas, emerged from the dormitory.

Clad in the traditional garb of his station, his steps purposeful and assured, he embarked on yet another day of guard patrol.

Soon, a Konoha Shinobi rushed to his side, urgency etched across his face.

"Mr. Asuma, there is an urgent order for you!" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with anxiety.

With a furrowed brow betraying his youthful appearance, Asuma extended his hand to receive the secret letter from the other party.

Upon unsealing the letter, Asuma's heart sank as he read the contents inscribed within.

The latter slipped from his grasp, unfurling silently to the ground, as if unable to bear the weight of the tragic news it carried.

His elder brother and sister-in-law are dead!

Shock and grief washed over him in waves, rendering him momentarily speechless as the reality of his loss settled heavily upon his shoulders. 

Mastering his emotions, he glanced up to find the Shinobi awaiting with a somber expression.

"Master Hokage wants you to return to Konoha immediately, and attend the funeral," the Shinobi informed him before bowing respectfully and taking his leave, leaving Asuma to grapple with the magnitude of his loss and the weight of his duty as a Shinobi of the Leaf Village.

Asuma's fists clenched in a silent fury, his jaw tightly set as he struggled to contain the storm of emotions raging within him.

Without uttering a word, he blurred into motion, transforming into little more than an afterimage as he surged forward towards the sights of Konoha Village.

The brief thought of reporting his abrupt departure to the daimyo, was quickly forgotten.

Asuma arrived back to Konoha 

and saw saw that his elder brother's head was gone.

His heart clenched with grief and fury, and an urge to draw his weapon, and unleash his wrath upon Uehara Naraku.

Later on, the funeral of Sarutobi Shinnosuke and his wife was held.

Asuma and stood stoically amidst the gathering, his grief a silent yet palpable presence as he bid farewell to his brother and sister-in-law.

Konohamaru, who was merely four years old, lacked the comprehension to grasp the concept of death.

To him, it simply meant that his parents would never return, a realization that left his young heart heavy with inconsolable sorrow.

Tears streamed down his cheeks unabated, his small frame wracked with anguish.

Meanwhile, the remains of the Uchiha clan were laid to rest in a quick ceremony devoid of any grandeur.

The Uchiha clan found their final resting place with the absence of mourners to honor their memory.

Uchiha Sasuke was the only one left.

As the ceremony concluded, Yamato, clad in his anbu mask, emerged before the Third Hokage, and his son Asuma, kneeling before them.

Having been part of the elite team tasked with tracking down Naraku, Yamato now stood before his superiors, his posture rigid with the weight of their collective failure to apprehend the fugitive.

Despite their best efforts, Naraku had eluded capture, slipping through their fingers like smoke in the wind.

Silence hung heavy in the air as Yamato awaited the Hokage's verdict, his gaze fixed firmly upon the aged leader whose wisdom and authority guided the fate of their village.

With a heavy sigh, Hiruzen broke the tense stillness, his voice grave with disappointment yet tinged with a steely resolve.

"Report," he commanded, his eyes piercing beneath the shadow of his brow as he awaited Yamato's account of their mission.

"Master Hokage! We have investigated the whereabouts of Uehara Naraku!" he reported urgently, interrupting the somber atmosphere that lingered at the end of the funeral.

"Where!?" both father and son demanded simultaneously, their voices echoing with a mixture of determination and concern.

Yamato then responded sharply, "According to our investigation, the last known sighting of Uehara Naraku was at a black market exchange on the western border of the country of fire. He traded the remains for a bounty of 50 million."

Hearing the news that his son's head had been exchanged for a bounty struck Hiruzen like a physical blow.

His world spun dizzily around him causing him to stagger and nearly lose his footing.

Meanwhile, Asuma's fists clenched, his eyes ablaze with a fiery determination that burned with an intensity matched only by the flames of his fury.

He sought retribution, urging him to confront Naraku and mete out justice with his own hands.

Asuma's expression hardened with resolve, "We cannot let him escape justice," he declared, his voice tinged with righteous fury.

Yamato nodded, his masked visage betraying no hint of emotion. "We will assemble a team to track his movements and apprehend him," he vowed, his tone unwavering.

With a swift and silent gesture, Yamato used the Body Flicker technique and vanished like a phantom, leaving behind only an afterimage of his presence lingering in the air.

Hiruzen watched the spot where Yamato had stood, a sense of admiration tinged with apprehension swelling within him.

Yamato, known by his codename and masked identity, was a Shinobi shrouded in mystery.

His origins were kpt hidden, known only among the highest echelons of Konoha's elite.

He was a survivor from Orochimaru's twisted experiments.

After being freed from Danzo's Root, Yamato's existence shook Hiruzen's beliefs.

Yamato harbored the rare and powerful Kekkei Genkai - the Wood Style, a legacy inherited from none other than the revered First Hokage himself.

Though not as potent as the legendary abilities of the First Hokage, Yamato's mastery over the Wood Style was still formidable.

Through years of relentless training and dedication, he had honed his skills to perfection, earning him a place among Konoha's most formidable Shinobi.

The Shinobi was a double-edged sword, a weapon forged from Orochimaru's malice yet tempered by the fires of the Hidden Leaf.

Hiruzen pondered the enigma that was Yamato for moment, a sense of both admiration and apprehension gnawed at his conscience, knowing that Yamato's skills would be invaluable in safeguarding the village he held dear.

Hiruzen turned his gaze towards Asuma, sensing the volatile emotions swirling within his youngest son. 

Hiruzen's voice boomed with authority, cutting through the tumultuous air like a sharp blade.

"You are not allowed to act rashly, Asuma!" he admonished sternly, his tone brooking no argument. "You are still young, with your strength, you are not yet Uehara Naraku's equal."

Asuma's prowess had only just begun to blossom, his skills honed through years of rigorous training were almost enough for him to earn a position within the Anbu ranks.

However, facing off against Naraku, a formidable Jōnin and the pinnacle of his clan's power, was something that Asuma was ill-prepared to confront.

But the admonition only fueled Asuma's simmering rage, stoking the flames of his determination to confront Naraku and avenge his brother's demise.

"Humph!" With a heavy snort, Asuma turned on his heel and stormed away.