Madara Uchiha is alive. I've seen his recent bloodline walk around that pesky little village of yours.

So long as his descendant remains, the darkness he once brought here will never be quenched. In the heart of his Clan and the people who've hidden in the shadows that belong to his philosophy, they will rise to take the lead and finish what that she-devil of a Demon Rabbit Goddess had begun: world annihilation.

The sky cries for Amegakure everyday. But it weeps for other villages too...

It knew what the Shinobi World stood for since the beginning. That being, a vainglorious show of manslaughter. An endless cycle of life and death.

Shinobi are enslaved to this life. We are hell-bound, hell-bent—as long as we possess Chakra, a social hierarchy exists and it traps those in the bottom.

It's simple. You see the world for its essence and beauty; I on the other hand, see the world for what it really is.

What we need is a constant revolution.

You know it yourselves that the existence of chakra sets every living person's soul in fire.

If you wish to find out, be my guest.

I've been practicing on my poetry as Madara was a great writer in his era. He wrote many horrid, truthful things.

I've written this with all the pleasures and delight of seeing the shocking face of the four of you. What good lives you run now.

Send my regards to the children. I'll be giving gifts this Christmas.

The letter was placed on a stack of books. It was an envelope, tied with a purple ribbon. A priority. The Rokudaime* was yet to stretch when he noticed this.

*Rokudaime - Sixth Hokage

He was certain that the grey hair on top his head wasn't genetics but age calling...because of a dozen amount of stress.

The first line of the epistle was enough to give him a heart attack.

Where did this come from?

❁

"Tell me you're familiarized with poetry decomposition."

"Technically, it's not on my job description, but I'll see what I can."

"Come into my office. Immediately. And thanks, Shikamaru."

"Love and time's murder

愛と時の殺人"

Beware of time,

for the nemesis lies upon one's self.

It will swallow thou,

what you can't give

when a Shinobi is a summary

of their living choices.

If you don't show up to your children's door,

should you see them any more?

Past, present, future,

what daunts you?

The fox,

weary of the forthcoming.

Cherry blossoms cease
to fall.

The scarecrow sings himself

a lullaby of burdens.

And the raven still buries himself in his despicable lifetime.

You know the one of you,

a vampire.

He who leeches on others,

feasts on blood; bathes on it—

and yet, you see the impossible:

a halo.

The sun was going down.

The pink-haired Kunoichi decided to read the note she found inside the Uchiha's mailbox in front of the Naka river.

There is darkness in all of you.

Have you traced it?

The face waits

for the unmasking--

the unraveling,

the eureka.

Sakura thought of only two people: first, her daughter, who was sleeping peacefully in her pink room upstairs the manor; two, Naruto, who had the highest chance of receiving the letter and was currently fitting the words' complexity into small details. He was a writer. As time paced, as she and Kakashi-sensei were trying, Naruto could be down on the last paragraph of the poem. He would have known.

He knew every bit of the author's mysterious words, as the uncanny message would now be sitting on his head. Writing him the worst information a Hokage could install upon his lifetime.

And in time

this village will be wrapped

in a cloud of murkiness.

Beware of the thing you loved most.

If love is not

what we fight for,

nor hold our hands

in prayer

and Jutsu seals;

what makes Shinobi interesting?

Love hath borne illegitimacy.

Love springs birth.

Oh, how Shinobi be damned

in search for the heart.

The brown falcon leaped onto his arm, a small-scroll tied fancily with a ribbon clipped onto its beak.

The remnants of war are flesh on my skin.

If you do not turn to history, which is

—repetitious as ever—

everything will be lost.

Time is but a mischief.

Before you even know it,

it will turn its back

on the blank hour.

And towers and cities will fall, all at once.

- Kami

The silence in the Hokage's office was domineering.

Shikamaru was loss at words. The letter was vague and personal. The only death-threat records taken on high alert were material ransoms from ill-bitter Rogue-nins from countries with high criminal rates. Writing in poems just to send a chill on the spine of the Hokage was just absurd.

Shikamaru could picture this man's face smirking.

And for someone to instill a threat on two Hokages, a Legendary Kunoichi, and the wielder of Sharingan and the Rinnegan; the greatest and most powerful Ninja in history—this is a troublesome war freak and a case that needs to be examined seriously and cautiously against all odds.

In a few minutes Naruto received calls from his teammate and mentor as he confirmed its existence. In exact three minutes, Sakura and Kakashi arrived, Sakura using a Substitution Method with one of her slugs and Kakashi performing an easy Swift Technique to loom instantly inside the Tower. Naruto was reminded of Jiraiya—who absconded many times he was being demanded for a ramen treat.

"Should we be scared now?" Sakura asked straightforwardly, holding the paper in her right hand.

"Well, I am." Kakashi said. "In the calmest, possible way."

"It's not just about Team Seven." It was Naruto who started. He slouched and clicked his pen, a razor-sharp gaze found in his blue eyes. "As the poem progresses, it talks about Shinobi in general but he means those that have received credit in the war. Most specifically, our friends. Konoha 11."

"And?"

"Obviously, his intentions to do harm are non-negotiable, but we're not sure what he's really after." Shikamaru announced. "Looking at it, seems to me he knows you on a personal level. And from the way he addresses his anonymous name: kami, the all-knowing; he's making progress to build his status like a god. It's like he has a distorted vision of the future, or whatever timeline...Past, present, future...he's got a way with getting and seeing what he wants."

He added, "But there's a second theory...he knew you on a personal level." His voice was shallow and deep, and his face darkened a little bit. "I know we've faced a lot of enemies during the Great War, and I know how troublesome it is to jog up lost memories, but a name would be a good start. Think about a person you did wrong to and never learned how to forgive. Focus on that."

That's the whole fucking point, Naruto thought.

Naruto couldn't remember.

Sakura couldn't recall anything.

Kakashi didn't find any of these accusations relative to his 37 years a Shinobi.

❁

The framed pictures of the Uzumaki family stood tall in the living room of the Hyuga house.

When Naruto came home, the first thing he did was to go to Himawari and Boruto's room.

"DADAAAA!!!"

Small hands and bodies not a half his size lunged onto him with complete force, and he fell down the stairs with a blink of a second.

Himawari and Boruto laughed at their unintended masterpiece. As Naruto scratched his head, Hinata came. She helped him get on his knees, kissed him, and gave him a warm "Welcome back".

As a revenge, Naruto ran after the children. He said he was the enemy and he'll catch munchkins for dinner.

Meanwhile Hinata's aggravation turned into gratitude, and then anxiety. Naruto barely came home in time, and he was usually worn out to stay out with the kids.

"Dad, I wunt a small TV!"

"A what?"

"A smwall tweevee! Like that thin' Daidai has!"

Daidai...Shikadai?

"Oh, you want a gameboy."

Boruto nodded giddily. After Naruto changed his son to his one-piece of a ramen-bowled—patterned PJ's, the little boy was comfortable and satisfied enough (much to their little game earlier) to off to bed.

"You pwomise?"

Naruto gave Boruto a ridiculous look. "No problem!! Anything else??" He bent down to kiss his forehead. "I love you." He whispered, to Boruto's giggles.

Then he went to Himawari's bed.

Himawari couldn't pronounce full words yet, but that didn't mean less of her adorableness.

Hinata still stood in wonder.

Earlier

"We're bad parents," Naruto said.

Beware of time,
for the nemesis lies upon one's self.

"That's the end of it. And if we keep on going like this, he'll take them away." Sakura wasn't sure what to make out of Naruto's expressionless face—was he being intellectual or faced with his fears? "Sakura, he wants our babies."

Kakashi could hear his own heart beating. Sakura and Naruto only noticed his absence now, but Kakashi felt triggered the moment he stepped into the Tower. Since earlier, he had his thoughts drifting on the observation that Team Seven were (always) a member short.

❁

*Flashforward*

"Where is he??"

A duel-sword blade was stationed against Otsutsuki Momokishi's throat, glimmering.

"I don't know what you're talking ab—"

"You know who. The man responsible for turning us."

In broad daylight, Uzumaki Boruto stood. His Shinobi fashion was red and black—his Genin jacket stretched into a robe, which flew with the wind, and from forehead protector to his bottom eye was a scar. Creases floated underneath his blue eyes. Behind his back was a silver katana with the inscriptions ウチワ* engraved. He was shooting Sarada a misgiving look. For all she cared, since she was too occupied in her own towering pride. So far, the Rogue-nins they've encountered on this realm have not spilled the beans on their target destination. It was all or nothing. Which is why, Boruto could still take it in—the spectacle of his best friend succumbing into her ego, instead of being against her.

*Uchiwa.

Boruto clenched his fists. He was stiff, and he couldn't do anything.

Meanwhile the person next to him chuckled: seventeen-year-old Inojin Yamanaka.

"I don't think I made myself clear on one thing."

Sarada sat on his waist. Momoshiki gulped. The girl was wearing knee-high boots, and there seemed to be a shuriken attacked inside the soles.

"Time to me is very precious. I don't like to keep myself waiting." She seized the hem of Momoshiki's hunting robe, whispering, "So I suggest let us not waste a single second here unless if you want to meet your maker. Do you know what hell feels? Do you know that the devil feeds on the screams caused by being burned a hundred times? I could send you there, you know—but I wonder—why not have it now? My Gōkakyū no Jutsu can handle better than a pitchfork."

*Great Fireball Technique

"Damn you...!!"

"Then answer me. Where is the damn coffin???"

"Relax. It's called persuasion method."

"Oh, Inojin. Spare me the ANBU dictionary."

Another chuckle. The smirk on his face didn't vanish, as they continued to watch the exclusive scenery. "Do you have any idea how much people that man has killed?

Boruto said nothing.

"Did you know that it was their Clan that kidnapped Hanabi Hyuga, your Aunt, tried to take her Byakugan for themselves; and Aunt Hinata was forced to rule this world as princess of the moon? They did more evil more than you could ever think. They're people who walk widdershins and should be eighty-sixed."

"Fine. Then the second person I'm looking for is someone you must have crossed paths with—Uchiha Sasuke."

"I am actually fascinated that after your Father abandoned you, here you are, searching for him like a lost puppy." Boruto took a step with a hand to sweep his sword, but Inojin gave him a warning signal.

"You think I'm doing this for him?" Sarada asked curiously. "But anyway, that's none of your business."

"Don't kill him, please." Inojin said.

"I don't have much time to deal with you, Momoshiki of the Otsusuki Clan. But if you don't have anything to say, then you can keep your silence. Forever."

"In the Land of Stars."

"What about it?"

Inojin stepped forward, examining the man's chakra. "He's lying. He knows something."

"I wasn't talking about Sasuke."

A pair of black wings grew on her back, and her eyes gleamed like they were rubies. "Wrong answer."

RAIKIRI!!!!

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Shoutout to my friend writer168, she's kept me going with my writing. I find inspiration in her stories everyday.