Chapter 2
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The wind howled, carrying with it the ashes of burning dreams and the anguished cries of the fallen.
The crimson moon watched from above, a silent witness to the unraveling of Konoha's fate.
Saiko's fingers brushed the strings of his guitar one last time, letting the final mournful note drift into the smoky night before he let the instrument rest across his lap.
His dual-colored eyes narrowed, reflecting the distant flicker of the battlefield below.
The question echoed once more within the quiet chambers of his mind.
"Should I intervene… or let destiny unfold as it must?"
A smirk ghosted across his lips — a fleeting curve, gone as quickly as it came.
He had no obligation to these people.
He owed them nothing.
And yet... something faint stirred within him — a tremor, subtle and fleeting, like a ripple across still water.
Not compassion.
Not pity.
Simply... curiosity.
In the distance, the Fourth Hokage, Minato Namikaze, danced between rubble and ruin, his golden hair a streak of hope amid the despair.
Chains of chakra glowed, binding the rampaging Nine-Tails, buying precious seconds.
Saiko watched with detached fascination as the inevitable played out — the sacrifice, the sealing, the sorrow.
Above the world of battle and screams, a new window blinked into existence before his eyes.
[System Update: Completed]
[New Features Unlocked]
Saiko arched an eyebrow lazily.
The screen shifted, revealing fresh options in crisp, glowing letters:
— [Arena Mode: Simulated battles between Legends]
— [Realm Creation: Build a hidden village for your companions]
— [Resurrection System: Revive fallen Legends under specific conditions]
He tilted his head, lips quirking in mild amusement.
"A village, huh? Maybe I'll call it Saikohama. Sounds exotic enough."
Before he could muse further, the chat room burst to life once more.
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[ LEGENDS CHAT ROOM ]
Hashirama: Saiko! Please — they're fighting for everything! Can't you at least... feel something?
Madara: Tch. Wasting breath. He's not the type to be swayed by such foolishness.
Tobirama: Hmph. Then he's no different from you, Madara.
Madara: Compliment accepted.
Hashirama: Please, Saiko... help the future.
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Saiko let the words wash over him like rain against glass.
They did not reach him.
Not truly.
But... a part of him, buried deep beneath layers of indifference, stirred — restless.
Slowly, almost lazily, Saiko rose from his perch.
His body felt light, weightless against the choking wind.
He stretched once, then vanished — a ripple of distortion flickering in the air where he had been.
When he reappeared, it was above the battlefield.
High above the Nine-Tails.
Far beyond the reach of mortal eyes.
Floating effortlessly, hidden behind a veil of chakra so thin it barely rippled the fabric of the world.
Below, he could see it all — the flash of Minato's seals, the grim determination in Kushina's bleeding form, the hopeless cries of the remaining shinobi.
The raw emotion... the love... the pain.
His right eye, the abyss of black, reflected the agony of the present.
His left eye, the split rinnegan, swirled with the inevitability of fate.
A soft chuckle escaped his lips.
Pathetic.
And yet... there was a strange beauty in their struggle.
Folding his arms, Saiko watched — a silent god among mortals — as Minato prepared the final seal, calling forth the Shinigami.
As the blade of fate cut through flesh and spirit, Saiko tilted his head slightly.
The Nine-Tails thrashed one last time, its rage shaking the earth.
The sealing was almost complete.
But then... something unexpected.
Saiko's enhanced sight caught the faintest anomaly.
A flicker at the core of the sealing formula.
A flaw.
Minor, but dangerous.
If left untouched... it could unravel in the years to come.
For a long, breathless moment, Saiko hesitated.
Intervene?
Or let destiny falter?
A slow grin formed across his face, as his fingers twitched with restrained amusement.
In the end, he decided.
With a mere thought, a thread of unseen chakra shot forth from him — weaving through the smoke, the fire, the crumbling village — reaching the very heart of the sealing ritual.
A single correction.
A tiny, imperceptible adjustment.
Minato never noticed.
Kushina never noticed.
No one noticed.
But Saiko smiled.
Because sometimes... destiny needed a little nudge.
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Beneath the crimson moon, as the first cries of a newborn pierced the night,
Saiko turned his back to the battlefield, hands in his pockets, and disappeared once more into the darkness.
The village would survive.
For now.
And Saiko... would continue to watch.
And wait.
The true story....had only just begun.
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