Chapter 398: The Harm of Truth
"...What?"
Uchiha Satsuki's movements froze mid-air, as though she hadn't heard clearly, or perhaps unwilling to believe. "You just... said what?"
Naruto raised his head. Those eyes always filled with sunshine now flickered with complex light, serious to the point of stubborn.
"The Ember organization... I created it." He repeated again, voice clear.
"I am 'Menma.'"
The Ember organization... what was that again?
Satsuki's thoughts were forcibly dragged from honey-sweet tenderness, plummeting into blank confusion. This organization... to her had always been merely a few syllables in distant rumors, never having real intersection with her life.
No, that wasn't right. She'd actually encountered them—in the Land of Waves. Just back then Naruto had covered her eyes. Most of the time she could only hear voices.
Earlier than that... this organization had once attacked Konoha, causing major commotion, yet strangely hadn't killed anyone. But back then...
"Na-Naruto, don't make this kind of joke." Satsuki's smile was somewhat forced, voice also drying. "This kind of joke... isn't funny at all."
Back when Ember attacked Konoha, how old was Naruto? A child—how could he possibly—
"I'm not joking!"
Naruto suddenly stood from the sofa, movements carrying rare fluster. He seemed unwilling to be pressed by secrets any longer, also afraid the next moment he'd lose the courage to confess.
"I don't want to keep hiding things from Satsuki anymore... right, look at this!"
Under Satsuki's stunned gaze, his hands rapidly formed several hand seals—
"Azure, White, Vermillion, Black, Void, South, North, Three, Jewel."
The instant the low chanting voice fell.
"ROAR——!!"
A low roar resounded from the void. Nine distinctly formed colossal beast shadows emanating ominous, majestic auras slowly emerged, ferocious outlines nearly filling the living room's space.
They originally intended to display their might, yet after manifesting realized no enemies stood beside their master. They immediately froze somewhat bewildered in place, only confused rumbling sounds remaining in their throats.
"..."
Satsuki completely lost language.
The Nine Masks. She'd heard those rumors—hellish summoning beasts, symbols of ill omen, demon minions, destruction incarnations walking in shadows... Those descriptions now manifested in most concrete form before her eyes, yet obediently, somewhat dazedly stood beside Naruto.
Immediately after, she saw Naruto's form slightly shimmer. His jacket's color darkened, a pitch-black robe covering his body. A fox mask surfaced on his face—cold, eerie, completely incompatible with this face she knew to the bone, yet displaying strange familiarity.
"So... that day in the Land of Waves, the person completing cleanup work..." Satsuki's voice was light, as though confirming something. "Was you, Naruto?"
"Mm." Naruto quickly released the transformation. Mask and black robe dispersed like smoke. He returned to being that blonde youth in casual wear with disheveled hair, just his eyes carrying careful pleading.
"I'll slowly explain everything clearly... so, don't... don't hate me because of this..."
Satsuki watched his frightened appearance—this vulnerable yet honest appearance shown because of her.
"...Gulp."
She unconsciously swallowed.
Honestly, this shocking truth hadn't fully digested. Yet some inappropriate, burning emotion secretly crept up from her heart depths—Naruto panicking because he cared about her view, confessing because he feared losing her... This recognition of being cared about to the extreme made her feel secret excitement amid this chaos... until Satsuki remembered that one matter.
The Nine Masks' forms slowly dissipated. They'd originally appeared as "proof." Mission complete, they returned to silence.
Only the two of them remained in the living room.
"I see..." Satsuki murmured, thoughts gradually clarifying. "No wonder that organization uses Flying Thunder God jutsu..."
She chose to believe this reality—though it still carried intense unreality. To her, the Ember organization had always been distant rumor symbols. Things they'd done, she mostly only heard about.
Even during Konoha's Crush Plan, what Ember did was support Konoha. So current Konoha no longer promoted Ember's "infamy." Only Cloud Village still exaggerated this organization's terror.
And the person she loved was actually that legendary mysterious, terrifying "Menma."
Satsuki slowly sat back on the sofa. She raised her head, looking toward Naruto still standing there like a criminal awaiting judgment.
"I won't ask your purpose for doing that..."
Naruto raised his head in surprise. Satsuki's gaze didn't waver. Deep within her pitch-black pupils settled a stagnant night. Her voice was very calm, calm enough to make Naruto somewhat uneasy.
"I only care about one thing... on the day of the Uchiha clan massacre..."
Was she asking why I didn't stop Itachi? Demanding whether I knew about the Uchiha clan's destruction?! Demanding why I didn't save the Uchiha clan?!
Naruto's throat moved, mind rapidly organizing language. He wanted to tell her the truth, wanted to tell her the Uchiha hadn't truly been exterminated, wanted to slowly explain everything behind this...
"When Uchiha Itachi stabbed his blade toward you... at that time, did you have confidence... to survive completely unharmed?"
"...Eh?"
Naruto froze. Not about the Uchiha, not about the clan, not even about her own tragedy.
What she asked was that day—the instant the blade entered his chest.
"I understand." Satsuki didn't wait for his answer, continuing in a low voice, suppressing some slight trembling. "Back then, you wanted me to awaken my Sharingan, right? So you didn't dodge, didn't resist with full strength... tell me, that wasn't a gamble. You had one hundred percent confidence to survive completely unharmed, right?"
"You... aren't asking about the Uchiha clan members?" Naruto couldn't help blurting out.
"That kind of thing doesn't matter."
Satsuki answered too quickly, too lightly. Light like a feather, yet falling heavily on Naruto's heart. Even while questioning, her every sentence still tightly wound around his safety.
Should he feel moved? Yet simultaneously, indescribable sourness surged up—she actually showed such indifference toward so many clan members' life and death.
But that wasn't indifference.
When love grew gentle roots amid ultimate pain, it had since then clung to Satsuki's soul, entwining into her sole obsession. Her world had long been cleaved in half by that day's blade light—one part was blood-colored, everything else was him.
"I... probably..." Naruto's voice was somewhat dry.
"Probably... what does that mean?" Satsuki repeated, pupils slightly contracting. "I see... so back then, Itachi truly wanted to kill you. You didn't have complete confidence, did you?"
The air's temperature plummeted. The ambiguous atmosphere completely receded. Satsuki's gaze pierced Naruto's chest tight.
Satsuki suddenly raised her hand to press her heart. Her life's deepest shadow had never been Massacre Night's blood and flames, but rather that sword in Uchiha Itachi's hand entering Naruto's body.
That moment, though she'd clearly suffered no injury, she felt her body torn alive from inside—then blood color stained her eyes.
Naruto wanted to say of course he could survive, wanted to say he never did anything uncertain... but Satsuki asked about "completely unharmed."
Facing Uchiha Itachi in that state, that psychopath... who dared claim one hundred percent?
Naruto opened his mouth, ultimately unable to speak lies.
Then he heard Satsuki's voice, very light, like a gentle blade. "I... forgive you."
"...Eh?"
Naruto completely froze. He'd expected to face fury, questioning, or prolonged cold war, yet never imagined these words.
He raised his head—
The scene he saw made his heart violently clench.
Truth was a double-edged sword.
Satsuki was working hard to maintain expression calmness, yet her eye sockets had already turned red. She bit her lower lip hard, yet tears still disobediently rolled down, one after another, silently sliding along her cheeks.
She quickly raised her hand to wipe, somewhat disgusted by such weakness in herself. Yet tears only increased with wiping, leaving wet light traces on pale skin.
She turned her head away, not wanting him to see her disheveled appearance. Yet her trembling shoulder line and lowered lashes leaked everything—desperately suppressed yet still bursting, scalding fragility.
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