Naruto: Desert Phantom

Sabaku's alarm rang at an illegally early hour.

Annoyed, he tried to silence it, but the damn thing just wouldn't stop.

Finally, in a fit of frustration, he grabbed it and hurled it with full force against the wall. It hit the floor with a dull thud and, at last, went silent.

As if it hadn't just betrayed him by dragging him into consciousness at this ungodly hour.

'Fuck you, Shinobi world. No electric lights, but a damn alarm clock?!'

Grumbling, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, still half-convinced that this was some cruel joke.

His room was as barebones as it got. Spartan, almost. A simple futon on the floor. A tiny nightstand that held the now-murdered alarm clock—one that he couldn't even set himself. And a tragically small desk with an equally sad-looking stool.

No windows. No sunlight. Just two pathetic torches mounted on the walls.

Torches that, somehow, could be turned on and off with a chakra-switch.

Which, of course, raised the question: If they had this, why the hell not just use actual electric lights?!

If he was remembering the original Sabaku's memories correctly, every single one of these chakra torches had to be manually linked to the main Fuinjutsu seal network of the entire city.

Meaning someone had to go through the trouble of maintaining a literal fire-based lighting system, rather than just… inventing something simpler.

'If this keeps up, I might just make a name for myself by inventing the goddamn light bulb.

Sabaku the Illuminator… actually, that didn't sound half bad.

And if I monopolize the business, I'll be filthy rich.'

He yawned loudly, stretching until his spine cracked in several places. Sleeping on a futon was… an adjustment. Not worse than a mattress, but definitely different.

His tired gaze drifted toward the clock.

He still had half an hour before he had to meet with the Commander in the armory.

Which meant just enough time for a quick shower, brushing his teeth, and then… figuring out where the hell the armory actually was.

Scorpion had given him a brief set of directions last night, but the ANBU complex was massive.

And worse? It was a goddamn labyrinth.

Sabaku dragged himself out of bed, grumbling as he stretched out the last remnants of sleep. His joints cracked in protest again, but he ignored it. If he had to be awake at this ungodly hour, at least he wouldn't be half-dead while doing it.

The shared bathroom was empty.

The shower was cold. Not freezing, but just enough to wake him up violently.

There was no fancy plumbing here, just an old system of underground water channels regulated by fuinjutsu. The water pressure sucked, but at least it was clean.

'Sunagakure really needs an upgrade.'

The moment he stepped out, damp hair dripping onto the stone floor, he caught sight of the ANBU gear neatly folded on a nearby stool. It was delivered by an Anbu, yesterday just before he fall asleep.

It was the standard shinobi uniform—black, tight-fitting, made for ease of movement. Simple wrappings for his right arm.

And next to it, the real deal.

The ANBU vest. Lightweight but reinforced, strong enough to deflect a throwed kunai or shuriken. Matching gloves that extended up the forearms, made of woven steel mesh layered beneath cloth.

And, of course, the mask.

His mask.

The fennec engraving stared back at him, the polished stone catching the dim torchlight.

Something about it felt surreal. Yesterday, he was still just Sabaku, some unlucky bastard with one arm and an overactive survival instinct. Now, he was Fennec.

'I really didn't get any time to adjust to this fucking world. Time and Plot seams to run ahead. Totally ignorant of little old me'

He slipped into the uniform. The fabric was rougher than expected, stiff from lack of wear, but it fit almost perfectly.

Then came the vest. It was heavier than it looked, sitting snug against his torso. The gloves were next. His right hand slid in smoothly, while the left…

Right. No hand. No fingers. No glove.

Sabaku exhaled sharply. He wasn't used to dressing with one arm yet. Shit he wasn't used to have only one arm. Even the simple act of tying the wrappings had taken longer than he liked.

He needed to fix that.

He took a final glance at the mask before picking it up, feeling the cool stone against his fingertips.

Fennec.

Not bad.

With that, he slung his gear into place and stepped out of the bathroom.

Now, where the hell was the armory?

Scorpion's directions had been vague at best. Left, right, down the hall, another right, third door past the torch that flickers weirdly.

'What the hell kind of landmark was a weird flickering torch?!'

Still, he followed the path, twisting through identical sandstone corridors, passing only the occasional masked figure. Most of them didn't acknowledge him. A few gave brief nods but noone said a word.

The ANBU complex was eerily quiet. Even the air felt heavier here, charged with something unspoken.

It wasn't just a headquarters.

It felt like a machine.

And Sabaku had just become another cog in it.

Finally, he reached the door Scorpion had described. A thick slab of stone with no markings, no signs—just a reinforced seal at its center.

He knocked once.

No response.

Twice.

Still nothing.

'Fuck it.'

He pushed, and the door slid open on its own.

The armory was massive.

Weapons lined the walls, racks of kunai and shuriken, scrolls containing hidden arsenals. Shelves stacked with explosive tags, smoke bombs, poisons, and things Sabaku didn't even recognize.

A blacksmith's forge burned in the back, an anvil standing beside it, tools arranged with military precision.

And in the center of it all stood Lion.

Even without looking up, he radiated presence.

The man was adjusting the wrappings on his forearms, thick fingers tightening the bindings with practiced ease. His mask, as always, gave nothing away.

"Fennec."

Sabaku straightened instinctively. He was not used to being called that yet.

"Sir."

Lion gestured toward a table beside him.

"Your gear. Customized on your file. If anything is missing, say it now."

Sabaku stepped closer, eyes flicking over the neatly arranged set of weapons and tools. A pair of kunai holsters, filled to the brim. Pouches for scrolls. A finely crafted tanto, its blade polished to a sharp gleam.

And something else.

A gauntlet.

It was sleek, reinforced with interwoven metal plates, designed for a single right hand.

He picked it up, feeling its weight. Surprisingly light.

"Modified for you," Lion said. "Reinforced fingers, retractable blade. Compact, durable. You'll learn how to use it properly in training."

Sabaku flexed his fingers, testing the movement. The fit was perfect.

He had to admit… this was kind of badass.

'Assasin Creed style!'

He nodded and said:" It's perfect."

"Fine. Your training starts today," Lion continued, his voice carrying the weight of finality. "Lesson one. Your gear has to be in perfect condition. Always! Lesson two! Anbu do not waste time. You will learn faster than you think possible. Or you will die trying."

Well. That sounded great.

Sabaku exhaled.

No turning back now.

"Understood."

"Than let's go to meet Camel!"

---

Author here. Just wanted to say some things. This is my original story. And I translate from german to english using AI.

This is not a Chinese Fanfiction!

I repeat.

This is not a Chinese Fanfiction!

I hope u enjoy the story until now. Soon we will pick up the paste a little.

Thank u guys.