Chapter 26: Fish Tanks and Future Fights
Under the golden archways of the palace corridor, where Gaara's sand still floated like thin mist in the corners, the sound of steel meeting steel rang out sharp and fast. The clash of blades. The burst of chakra. The rhythm of a battle beginning to bloom into something wild and precise.
Kurenai stood at the rear, eyes narrowed and focused, her crimson gaze never wavering. She was not idle—her mind was a net, weaving illusions across the battlefield, ready to pounce should her girls falter. But she trusted them. This was their stage now.
Viola moved like wind through silk.
She spun low on one leg, the other sweeping out in a flash of red, her heel whistling through the air just inches from Tenten's chin. Tenten ducked, pivoted, and retaliated with two short swords—one slashing, the other stabbing. She moved like an artist sketching arcs of wind, her every step reinforced by Fuinjutsu seals etched along the soles of her boots and her shoulders. Seals designed by Neji and Naruto both—enhancing chakra flow, speed, and reaction time.
Viola twisted mid-spin, her arms sweeping wide, the curved steel of her knives catching the moonlight filtering in from broken windows. Her expression was calm—almost serene—and yet her feet struck the ground with the force of thunderclaps. Her dance wasn't only Capoeira—it was something more. Feral grace mixed with assassin precision.
Sakura dashed forward from the left—her fist drawn back and humming with raw chakra. Her eyes blazed with purpose. The floor cracked beneath each step.
But Viola had already begun to cry.
Tears slipped down her cheeks like diamonds, and before they touched the floor, they shimmered, expanded, and formed. Ethereal whales—glassy and translucent—burst forth with a haunting song, spiraling toward Sakura. Each whale shimmered with threads of memory—echoes of her past, images of her training with Tsunade, of Naruto smiling, of blood and hospitals and lonely nights waiting for answers. They hit her mind more than her body, a pulse of confusion that stopped Sakura for a beat too long.
That was all Viola needed.
Spinning on her hands, she launched herself backward, just missing Hinata's strike—lightning-veined fingertips aimed for her shoulder. Viola landed, slid, and threw her knives in a flicker of motion toward Tenten, who barely caught them on the flat of her swords. Sparks flew.
"She's fast," Tenten breathed, grinning slightly. "But I'm faster than before."
Hinata didn't respond. She was already moving again, a blur of white and lavender, chakra laced lightning dancing along her palms. She vanished and reappeared beside Viola in a heartbeat, her palm stabbing forward—but Viola twisted mid-kick, avoided the strike, and lashed out with her heel.
It caught Hinata in the ribs.
Hinata flew back, but spun midair and landed lightly, skidding to a stop.
Sakura, recovered, had had enough.
"You're good," she said, her voice calm. "But you can't keep dodging us all forever."
The air pulsed.
Sakura slammed her fists into the ground. The chakra cracked outward in a wave, splitting the floor like an earthquake. The whales dissolved. Viola leapt high—but Tenten was already there.
Two scrolls unfurled behind her. A hailstorm of kunai, shuriken, and wind-blades launched upward.
Viola twisted mid-air, spinning like a dancer caught in a cyclone of silver, dodging each blade with barely an inch to spare—but it forced her downward.
Straight into Hinata.
The Hyuga prodigy struck low, palm aimed for the leg.
"Eight Trigrams—"
Viola dodged again—but not fully.
Hinata's fingertips grazed her thigh, and Viola screamed—chakra bursting where the nerves in her leg surged, electricity flooding the limb. She stumbled, mid-dash.
And then Sakura was there.
Her fist was already drawn back.
It collided with Viola's midsection like a battering ram of thunder and chakra.
The explosion cracked the tiles in every direction, dust and fragments flying like shrapnel.
Viola went down hard, her body tumbling like a doll, rolling, then still.
The three kunoichi stood breathing hard, not a word spoken.
"She's alive," Sakura said, walking toward the fallen assassin. "I held back."
"Just enough," Hinata added, wincing and clutching her ribs.
Tenten wiped a cut from her cheek. "I think I like fighting together."
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Lee's foot caught fire. Not literally (though with Lee, who even knows?), but it looked like a comet had punched Senor Pink in the face. The Morning Peacock exploded in a blur of burning fists, chakra sparks, and the unmistakable sound of "This guy's gonna need a new skeleton."
Senor Pink hit the ground like a falling star—smoking, broken, and more cooked than Choji's festival turkey.
Neji, on the other hand, was not okay.
He was standing—barely—but his face was paler than Kakashi's unmasked jawline (which, yes, we've all imagined, thank you very much). His ribs were cracked, maybe worse, and I could practically hear his organs complaining. Only thing holding him together? That fancy Hyuga chakra control, keeping his bones in place like a ninja-made duct tape.
"Don't come closer," Neji muttered, blood on his lips but eyes still sharp. "I've got it under control."
Translation: I'm in terrible shape but too stubborn to admit it.
I turned my gaze back to the guy we just flattened. Senor Pink.
Still smoking.
Still... kinda smiling?
Which was weird, because last I checked, people who get turned into human pancakes don't usually grin.
And then I felt it.
That last flicker of emotion—like a whisper through the chakra threads still linking us from earlier. I hadn't meant to connect with him that deeply. Ninshu is like that, though. You share chakra, and boom—empathy bomb. Memories, grief, pain. I'd caught a flash of it before the final hit.
A baby. Gone before he could walk.
A wife named Russian (seriously? I had questions), lost in her own mind.
And the clothes—the bonnet, the pacifier, the whole weird diaper-wrestler vibe—weren't a joke. He wore them because she once smiled when he did. She never smiled again. And even after she passed, he kept wearing them.
Because love is stupid and painful and impossible to throw away.
Yeah. I got it.
I hated that I did.
I knelt beside him. His breath was shallow. Chakra fading. One more minute, and he'd be with them—his wife, his son. He wanted that. I could see it in his last smile.
But... no.
Not like this.
"Ino!" I barked. "Heal him. Now."
She blinked, wide-eyed. "Naruto, he's a criminal—"
"He's a person," I snapped. "And I'm not letting him run away from his pain that easy. If he wants peace, he's gotta earn it. With life. Not death."
Silence.
Even Kakashi looked up from his broody corner like dang, Naruto's having a moment.
Because yeah, I get it now. The cycle of hatred doesn't stop with someone dying. It stops when people change. When they live long enough to make things right. And if Senor Pink really wanted to die? He could do it after planting trees or saving kittens or donating to orphanages.
Choji coughed. "You know, the usual stuff."
Ino knelt beside me, hands glowing.
"I'll do what I can," she said.
I nodded, stood, and looked over the crew.
Gaara's sand was still swirling in the background like it hadn't decided whether to relax or murder something. Shino's bugs buzzed like disapproving librarians. Kiba was already rummaging for food, and Shikamaru was staring at the sky like the clouds owed him answers.
"Let's clean this up," I said. "We've got lives to save, a future to protect... and one very weird dude to keep alive."
Because no matter what the world threw at us, one thing was clear:
Hope's not just for the innocent.
Sometimes, the ones who've fallen the hardest need it most.
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Just as things were beginning to calm down—the battlefield smelling like burned denim and broken dreams—the girls returned.
Tenten was at the front, smug as always, twirling a scroll like she just aced a test no one else studied for. Behind her came Sakura, looking annoyed but not saying anything (which meant Tenten had probably done something), followed by Hinata, gentle but determined, and finally, Kurenai bringing up the rear like the responsible adult she reluctantly was in this chaos.
Between them floated a giant, mobile fish tank.
And inside it?
Viola. Fully submerged. Arms crossed. Eyes closed. Looking like a royal mermaid who'd been forced into a spa day against her will.
Naruto blinked. "Okay. Tenten, are you sure this is the only way to transport prisoners?"
Tenten grinned way too innocently. "Water inhibits Devil Fruit users. This method is perfectly sound."
Sakura raised an eyebrow. "You also added decorative seaweed."
"It's for ambience!"
Naruto gave her a squint. "You're enjoying this too much."
Tenten didn't deny it.
"All three officers captured," Kurenai announced. "Senor Pink is stable thanks to Ino, Viola is secure, and Gladius is... wet and furious."
"Nice," Kiba whistled. "Guess we're officially pirate hunters now."
"Don't get cocky," Shikamaru muttered, already deep in a scroll with Ino sitting beside him. "The data from their memories paints a bad picture."
"Trebol's slime is worse than we thought," Ino added, brushing back sweaty hair. "He could probably trap half of us before we moved."
"And Pica's stone abilities?" Shikamaru grimaced. "Let's just say if we fight in Dressrosa, we might end up inside the walls. Permanently."
Naruto scratched his head. "So you're saying... we'd lose."
The silence was thick.
Even Akamaru whined a little.
"No offense, Naruto," Choji spoke up through a mouthful of energy bars, "but yeah. We'd totally get stomped."
"It's not like we didn't know they were stronger," Gaara said calmly, standing like a sandstone statue near the cave mouth. "We just didn't know how much."
Kakashi, who had been unbothered as usual, flipped a page in his book and finally spoke. "This is why we gather intel. Victory isn't always about power—it's about strategy. Ninja rules, remember?"
Sakura crossed her arms. "Yeah, but we can't just out-strategize a monster like Doflamingo. The guy literally puppeteers people."
"And has a god complex," Shino added quietly. "Which makes him dangerous."
Naruto's fist clenched. Not because he was scared. (Okay, a little scared.) But because... he hated feeling behind. He had felt Doflamingo through the memories. Cold. Cruel. Condescending. Like he wasn't a person—just another pawn in the game.
"We'll beat him," Naruto said, voice steady.
"Not today," Kakashi added helpfully.
"But we will," Naruto pressed. "Because we're improving. Every fight, we get better. We don't fight fair. We're ninja. We don't have to."
"Exactly," Shikamaru said. "No one said we had to storm Dressrosa like samurai idiots."
"Ugh, again with the samurai," Kiba muttered.
"We're gonna pick them off one by one," Naruto said, energy returning to his voice. "Catch 'em alone, use teamwork, use clones, use bugs, use explosive ramen for all I care. If they fight dirty, we fight nastier."
"Pretty sure that's not in the handbook," Kurenai muttered under her breath.
"I like this plan," Lee said with a thumbs-up and a bandage across his forehead. "It is a youthful ambush!"
Sakura gave him a look. "That's not how youth works, Lee."
"Still," Ino chimed in, "before we go Yonko-hunting, someone needs to level up."
Everyone looked at Naruto.
Naruto blinked. "Wait, what? Why me?"
"You're the strongest teen here," Shikamaru said. "But not by much. You're barely edging out Gaara. If we want to keep the advantage, you need to be stronger."
"We need our ace to be unbeatable," Kakashi added. "You're good, Naruto. But we're going to war. Being good isn't enough."
Naruto looked at the tanks again—one with a war-weary man who wore grief like a mask... another with a woman forced to fight for a tyrant... and the last, a ticking bomb of rage and explosions.
"We'll stop Doflamingo," he said. "And after that, we take on the Yonko. We fight the Admirals. Whatever it takes."
Hinata stepped forward, quiet but confident. "And we'll be with you."
"Every step," Sakura agreed, folding her arms.
Even Tenten gave a thumbs-up from behind her ridiculous water tank. "Teamwork makes the pirates cry."
Kakashi sighed. "That's not how the saying goes."
"Now it is!" Naruto grinned, already feeling the fire build up in his gut.
Because if there was one thing he believed in more than ramen, more than himself... it was this:
No matter how strong the enemy—
Teamwork beats monsters.
Every. Time.