I clung to the man's hand as we navigated the smoldering streets of Konoha. All around them, shattered timbers glowed with residual heat, and swirling embers danced on the hot wind. The distant roars of the Nine-Tails had grown less frequent, but each monstrous cry still reverberated through my small body, a terrifying reminder of the ongoing battle at the village's outskirts.
I felt weak—migraines bloomed behind my eyes, and every breath tasted of soot. Yet, despite being trapped in a five-year-old's frame, I possessed memories and knowledge from another life. Those memories at least reassured me that it would all be over soon and that the monstrous fox that was destroying Konoha right now would soon be sealed inside a newly born child, Uzumaki Naruto.
"Almost…there…" the man huffed. He'd tied a rag across his forehead to stanch the bleeding from a previous injury, and he practically hauled the half-conscious woman with his other arm. The scenes blurred as some noise other than crashing houses entered my ears.
The courtyard was chaotic: injured villagers lay on hastily spread tarps while shinobi and medic-nin darted about with bandages, salves, and water flasks. Someone had pitched a series of canvas sheets to form a roof against falling debris. Every few moments, the ground shuddered from distant impacts—likely the Nine Tails lashing out—but here, at least, the fires weren't overhead.
The cool breeze of night ruffled through my dark locks as a female medic-nin spotted us and rushed forward. "Over here!" she called, beckoning urgently. "Let me see your wounds." She looked at the man for a brief moment before bending down to look me over.
"Where does it hurt?" She asked, concern evident in her voice as I heard someone else guide the man and woman who led me here to the other corner.
The question caused me to pause for a brief moment, "I—" I paused, uncertain how to explain. I had no visible gashes like the adults, but my body felt battered, my lungs scorched by smoke. Instead of going for minor burns on my hands and arms, I pointed to my chest. The uncomfortable sensation of suffocation and the debuff made narrowing down the priority easy.
Understanding the problem, she took a breath to concentrate, and then her hands blurred through a series of hand signs. My fascination with the scene didn't stand out as I watched her hands glow green. She placed them against my chest, and a few moments later, my laborious breathing pattern eased significantly. We stood there frozen as the world blurred around us.
[Ding!]
[Debuff removed- Smoke Inhalation]
After a few minutes of treatment, the medic pressed a waterskin into my hands. The throbbing sensation of tightness eased, "Drink slowly," she instructed. I complied, each swallow bringing an astonishing hint of relief to my parched throat. In the corner of my vision, my CP remained at 10/10, unchanged—I hadn't used any jutsu or skills. Still, my mind buzzed from exhaustion, and a faint headache pulsed behind my forehead. The loss of debuff was still a welcome sign, and I took a deep sigh of relief.
Around me, moans of pain and hushed sobs painted a grim soundtrack. She helped me in the direction of the other children, who were huddled. Some wept openly for parents who hadn't arrived yet; others stared at the ground in shocked silence. The tragedy of it all gnawed at my chest, though the feeling was a bit muted—I remembered the Nine Tails' attack from the anime, but seeing it firsthand was something else entirely.
I could see countless missing limbs as people flailed about, though from what I could see, most of the serious injuries were quickly pushed toward the tents on the other side of where I was. With a moment to think and breathe, I was able to regain my bearings.
Over the next hour, medics administered first aid around the space. Shinobi squads arrived in spurts, bringing more refugees. Whispers spread that the fox was slowly being pushed toward the village outskirts. I tried to process the news, relief, and dread swirling in equal measure as I knew what would happen next.
At some point, Kenji, the old man, and his supposed neighbor limped over, Haruka, his wife's arm wrapped in fresh bandages. He managed a weak smile. "They say we'll be moving to a bunker soon," he rasped. "Safer underground." His eyes darted around a sense of rigidness on his visage.
A nearby chunin overheard. "Exactly. We've stabilized most of the wounded here. We'll transfer everyone deeper into the village once the path is clear of fires." She surveyed me and the other children. "Stay close. We can't lose anyone else."
I looked down at my hands; they had stopped trembling as the overwhelming dread died down. 'I need to get stronger,' Glancing at my stats again—Physique: 1, Chakra: 1—and felt a pang of frustration. Those numbers were abysmally low. 'I'm basically a civilian child.' Even so, I was alive, which was more than could be said for many this night.
...
Torchlight lit their way as two chunin led a group of evacuees—roughly a couple dozen men, women, and children—through the charred remains of a once-lively commercial street. Smoke still lingered, but the worst flames had been doused. I kept one arm over my mouth and nose, fighting back the smoke-filled air to assault my lungs once again.
Every so often, the group halted when the chunin signaled potential danger. They spoke in hushed tones, scanning the rooftops for structural collapse or stray embers. I felt calm right now while at the same time helpless; although the Nine Tails' furious howls seemed more distant, it still didn't feel good to be dependent on someone else for survival.
After a tense trek, the road opened onto a wide, partially cobblestoned plaza. There was a large barrier behind which I could see countless shinobi, looking restlessly outside. There was just a single opening that was being gaurded by ANBU as what seemed like the next generation of Konoha shinobi were kept safe, for their own sake.
We were quickly ushered into the barrier. At the back end, we entered through a building that seemed like an ordinary storefront but concealed the entrance to a set of massive wooden doors leading down into the earth. Shinobi guards stood at attention, ushering new arrivals into the corridors beneath.
As we descended, my bandaged, wrapped feet kept the cold from the stone steps. The air grew markedly cooler, and the scents of ash and smoke dissipated with each step underground. Dim lanterns lined the walls, illuminating a labyrinth of reinforced tunnels. Evidently, Konoha's famed emergency bunkers weren't just rumors—they were well-prepared for times like these.
The group was slowly funneled into a main chamber, a large cavern supported by thick stone pillars. Rows of benches and cots were arranged neatly. Volunteers bustled about, distributing water, blankets, and ration bars. More medics hurried from person to person, checking on injuries.
I sidestepped a cluster of evacuees huddled on the floor, murmuring anxious prayers for family still unaccounted for. I ended up near a small station where a harried medic flagged me down. "You, child—any injuries? Burns?" she asked, scanning his soot-streaked face.
I shook my head. "Just…smoke inhalation," I managed, my voice still a little hoarse. She passed me another drink, plus a small ration, and her hands glowed green with far fewer handseals than the previous medic that I had seen. I tore into the ration bar, half-starved. The coarse flavor was hardly appetizing, but the tiredness and hunger did force me to chew.
...
Hours blurred together as more refugees poured in. The once-spacious bunker grew crowded, and echoes of whispered fears and muffled sobs bounced off the stone walls. Shinobi organized families in one section and single evacuees in another. I noticed some children younger than me clinging to older siblings or neighbors. Every face was etched with a dull grief—or raw, unprocessed shock.
Kenji and Haruka eventually found me sitting on a makeshift cot near the far wall. Kenji's head wound was re-bandaged, and though he still walked with a limp, he seemed stable. "Looks like we'll be here a while," he sighed, dropping onto the bench beside me. "They say the Nine-Tails is being pushed further away, but it's not over."
Haruka pressed a cloth to her temple, eyes hollow. "I—my house…my family—" Her voice choked. Kenji wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders, offering a moment of solidarity in a sea of uncertainty.
I listened, not responding as my emotions dulled once again. It was all so foreign. I couldn't empathize with her as I had no known parents here—at least none he remembered. Part of me slightly envied Haruka's grief: it meant she had people to lose. But that didn't really last long; I had memories of my real family, and while I didn't feel grief about losing a connection in this world, as the hours blurred together and my new reality was slowly sinking deeper into my bones, the feeling of loss reemerged.
...
I didn't know how long I had slept, but a chime woke me up. My blurred vision readjusted to focus on the words hovering in front of me.
[QUEST Completed]
[Survive the Night of the Nine Tails]
[Objective: Escape the immediate area and reach safety (0/1)]
[Reward: +200 XP, Complete access to the System]
...