Naruto: The Beast Within

The battlefield is silent.

A thick mist clings to the air, heavy with the scent of blood and rain. The ground is uneven beneath small, bare feet, a mixture of mud and something far more sinister.

Bodies lie scattered in the dirt, twisted in unnatural angles, their faces frozen in expressions of terror. Some are missing limbs. Others have been reduced to nothing but remnants of what they once were.

The rain falls in slow, heavy drops, soaking through white hair and clinging to pale skin. But it's not just water. The red stains on the ground, mixing with the dirt, tell the truth. The rain carries blood—thick, warm, fresh. It drips from the ends of his fingertips, slides down his arms, seeps into his clothes.

Golden eyes, wide and unfocused, take in the scene. The sky above is gray, endless, suffocating. His heart beats fast, too fast, a frantic rhythm against his ribs. His breath comes in quick, uneven gasps. The cold clings to his bones, but his body feels hot, feverish.

Something is wrong.

His small hands tremble at his sides. His fingers curl, digging into his palms, as if trying to ground himself, to make sense of this. But there is no sense in what he sees.

The world sways. His vision blurs at the edges.

A sound cuts through the silence—low, deep, something between a growl and a sigh. He stiffens, the noise sending a shiver up his spine.

The ground trembles beneath him.

A massive shadow moves through the mist. Slowly, deliberately, it steps forward, the heavy weight of its presence pressing down on everything around it. A beast, towering over the wreckage, its body shimmering with a golden glow. It has no defined features, no fur, no skin—just solid chakra, pulsing and alive.

It watches him.

Then, without hesitation, it lowers itself, pressing its enormous head against his small frame.

The warmth spreads instantly. It's overwhelming, wrapping around him like a cocoon, like something protective. Strong, steady breaths ruffle his hair, a contrast to the chaos surrounding them.

The boy doesn't move. He can't.

His throat is dry. His chest feels tight. His lips part slightly, but no words come out.

His fingers twitch.

The bodies.

The blood.

The destruction.

It's all his fault.

His breathing turns shallow, eyes darting from corpse to corpse, searching for something—anything—that makes this make sense. But there's nothing.

A strangled sound escapes his lips. His vision sways again.

Then—

A hand.

Warm against his shoulder. A presence behind him.

A voice.

"Did you do this?"

His breath catches. His body stiffens. His eyes remain locked forward, unblinking.

He doesn't turn. He doesn't speak.

Because he doesn't know the answer.

"Raimu"

A voice echoes.

Louder.

"RAIMU!"

Raimu jerks awake, his golden eyes snapping open. His head lifts sluggishly, vision unfocused, his body feeling far too warm and comfortable to be disturbed.

The world shifts. No longer is he in a battlefield. Instead, he finds himself seated at his desk, arms folded, cheek pressed lazily against them.

The soft distant hum of a classroom fills his ears.

A few seconds pass before he processes what's happening.

His teacher Funeno stands at the front of the classroom, his arms crossed, his brow furrowing in clear exasperation. 

Raimu blinks, his gaze still hazy, as he slowly lifts his head, his white hair slightly messy from where he'd been resting. His blanket—yes, his blanket—is still draped over his shoulders like a cloak of pure comfort.

He stares at Funeno for a long moment, blinking sleepily. Then, finally, in a slow, drowsy voice, he mumbles,

"…Oh. Hey, sensei."

The class bursts into laughter.

Funeno sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Raimu, it's your final year at the Academy. You can't just sleep through class!"

Raimu, still half-asleep, simply pulls his blanket tighter around himself. "But… it's so cozy."

More laughter erupts from his classmates.

One girl in the back giggles, her face flushing as she whispers to the girl beside her, "Let him sleep. He's cute like this."

The other girls chime in, agreeing, though their comments are more playful than serious.

Funeno's face flushes slightly, and he half-yells, "Stop encouraging him!"

The boys murmur in envy, some muttering complaints under their breath.

Raimu, completely unfazed, shifts in his seat, letting out a small yawn as he stretches his arms. His gaze drifts to the window, where people walk by, and a soft breeze moves the trees outside.

His mind wanders instantly.

I wonder if the market has that fluffy melon bread today…

"…RAIMU!"

Raimu jumps slightly, snapping his head back toward Funeno, blinking in mild confusion.

More laughter from the class.

Funeno groans, rubbing his temples before finally moving on, though he keeps a close eye on Raimu for the rest of the lesson.

Raimu, meanwhile, rests his chin in his palm, still looking half-asleep but undeniably amused.

His small smirk, the drowsy way his golden eyes lazily drift over his classmates—everything about him screams effortlessly adorable and infuriatingly relaxed at the same time.

But as his gaze lingers on his desk, a flicker of his dream—no, his memory—crosses his mind.

The rain. The battlefield. The beast that held him.

The destruction he caused.

His smirk fades for just a moment.

Then, as if deciding it wasn't worth thinking about right now, Raimu closes his eyes, lets out a small breath, and leans back in his chair.

Might as well enjoy this nap while I can

Disregarding anything his teacher told him.