[Mad Tiger] Chapter 27

TN: Short one today

_____________________________________

Wake up, please! Come on, wake up! Don’t die!

Feline gods, human gods, Sage of Six Paths, Buddha, Allah, Jesus Christ, anybody! Please, don’t let her die!

Those bastards even tied her up, as if someone could escape after having a Tailed Beast ripped out of them. They tossed her aside like a broken doll. But you’re alive, aren’t you? You have to be alive. Your hands are so cold, I can’t even tell what color your skin is in this darkness. But I can feel it—or at least, I hope—there’s still life in you somewhere.

Please… Kushina-san, wake up!

I knew something was wrong—I felt it! I hadn’t left the palace for a whole month, too worried about my master. The tension was suffocating, like a storm waiting to explode. Something was brewing. The daimyo guards had grown strange—philosophizing about how, technically, the country was under dual rule. They talked about how shinobi were supposed to protect and guide ordinary people, how the clans used to have their own lands and villages to defend. No one seemed to know who dissolved those old territories, but the younger guards were debating—would it be better if there was just one king?

Then Tou stopped petting me. One day, when I rubbed against him, he even pushed me away with his foot.

That bastard, Asuma—he killed Tou. I’m sure of it! Tou was only 17! Seito-san, Kitane—they were gone within the first minutes. I’m convinced they were ambushed; no way could shinobi that strong die in a fair fight. The daimyo guards turned on each other! I still can’t believe it—this tight-knit warrior family seriously took up arms against their own brothers. And they fought to the death. I watched from a distance as they tore apart the palace’s left wing. Daishiki, you stupid Buck—why’d you get involved? Who asked you to? What were you thinking?!

I saw Chiriku kill my Daishiki. I watched it happen. He swung that scythe and took the head clean off the guy I loved teasing.

Chiriku told Minoruhi that some of the guards had rebelled, planning to overthrow the daimyo so the Hokage—"The Red-Hot Habanero," Uzumaki Kushina—could seize power. He said the conspirators were Kazuma and Kobo-san, and that Daishiki had been trying to break into the palace to assassinate Minoruhi. Supposedly, Asuma and Chiriku had uncovered the plot and were leading the daimyo’s defense.

I broke free of Minoruhi’s grip and ran. The palace reeked of smoke and blood. Screams echoed through the halls as servants darted around, trying to barricade themselves. But you can’t hide from shinobi when they decide they want to find you.

“Tora-chan! Where are you going? It’s dangerous!” Sano called after me. Then there was this awful, wet, squelching sound behind me. A sound that chills your soul. And then—Tayami-san’s inhuman, agonized scream.

When I turned around…

Sano collapsed to his knees, blood dripping from his mouth. My poor, sweet caretaker. Just a kid. A child. I watched his eyes lose focus, his life slipping away, and something inside me snapped.

“Your son was part of the conspiracy! He was a student of one of the ringleaders!” Chiriku snarled, slapping Tayami-san as she clung to him, sobbing. Then he stormed off.

And there I was, left to grieve with the palace cook, as she wailed over her boy. I wanted to howl right alongside her—from the helplessness, the sheer injustice of it all. Could this have been prevented? Could I have done something?

The next morning, they read out the names of “traitors” and “defenders of the daimyo.” Out of twelve guards, only four survived. But there were seven bodies. Kazuma’s body had fallen into the palace moat, carried off by the river. I can only hope he survived, lying in wait to ambush the real traitors like some kind of ninja John Rambo. But Asuma was confident Kazuma was dead…

And then things got downright surreal.

By afternoon, none other than the Third Hokage himself, Sarutobi Hiruzen, arrived at the palace. Stern, composed, dressed in armor. He told Minoruhi that Kushina had betrayed his trust—that she was an outsider all along. He claimed she’d tried to seize power as revenge against the Land of Fire for failing to help the Land of Whirlpools when it was destroyed by the combined forces of the Hidden Mist and Hidden Cloud.

Minoruhi believed him.

I sat perched on an empty ceiling beam in Minoruhi’s office, watching. I understood why he ‘believed’ it. Without defenders, the daimyo was vulnerable. That smiling old geezer could probably kill him with one well-aimed chakra pulse, and they’d just call it a "sudden heart attack" at 39. Bastards. They’d cornered him completely.

Hiruzen all but outright said he should be reinstated as Hokage. And then he said something strange—something terrifying—that I didn’t fully understand. He claimed Kushina had been a terrible Hokage, a traitor, unworthy of being remembered by future generations of the Leaf. That he’d “take care of everything.”

My fur bristled, and I realized that while I’d been focused on the chaos in the capital, things in Konoha might be even worse.

Hiruzen stayed for dinner, but I didn’t. I bolted straight to the ninja village.

The Uzumaki household was gone. In its place stood a park. But the ground reeked of smoke, ash, and destruction. The trees looked 15, maybe 20 years old. It felt like I’d stepped into another reality—one where Kushina and Naruto didn’t have a home. My scent markers had almost completely faded over the past month and a half, but I knew this was my territory.

And then I noticed—Kushina’s face on the Hokage monument was missing. Sure, it had always been kind of scary-looking, but for the entire stone carving to just… vanish?

And the weirdest part? No one was panicking. Life in Konoha carried on as if their Hokage’s face—and their Hokage herself—hadn’t disappeared.

I couldn’t find any trace of Kushina or Naruto. I checked the Academy. The kids were busy making lanterns and cutouts for some kind of festival. Apparently, they were celebrating the autumn equinox that night. Sasuke and the others seemed happy to see me, chatting away. From what they said, they thought Naruto was at home, sick again.

I had no idea what to do. No clue where to look for the Uzumakis. Desperate, I went to an old acquaintance—Takaro.

Breaking into the post tower was even easier than the first time I’d visited Konoha. Lucky for me, Takaro was perched on his usual spot. The hawk looked nervous at first, like those silly pigeons, but he recognized me soon enough.

“Tora-chan? Long time no see,” he squawked. “How’ve you been?”

“No time for small talk,” I cut him off. “Tell me everything weird that’s happened in the village. What happened to Kushina-san’s face on the mountain? Where is she?”

“Oh, I saw it!” He flapped his wings excitedly. “Some guy with weird chakra destroyed the mountain face. But no one seemed to notice! What, are they blind? And the Hokage’s house—poof, gone! A forest sprouted up instead. And still, silence. Everyone’s busy preparing for the festival.”

My brain was fried. Between the deaths, the chaos, and everything I’d seen, I could barely think straight. Even with Takaro’s obvious hints, my worry for the Uzumakis clouded my judgment. Who was behind all this? Who was helping Hiruzen and his son?

When night fell, and people filled the streets with their lanterns, a red moon rose over the village.

It was haunting—watching everyone, mouths agape, staring at the sky. I felt the sinister chakra in the air. I’d felt it before—when Kushina was angry. I followed it, running toward the source, just outside the village.

The "signal" reflecting off the moon was coming from the Forest of Death. Creepy place. One time, I dared to stroll along its edge, and some creature the size of a clenched fist—something that looked like a flea—almost ate me alive.

For a few minutes, I hesitated, but then a faint breeze carried a familiar scent. Naruto’s scent. Something about two hundred meters from the gate smelled like him. I decided to risk it and crept closer, dreading what I might find. Thankfully, it wasn’t him—just his school backpack.

Then I noticed something eerie: all the terrifying creatures in the forest were also reacting to the red moon. None of them paid any attention to me or even to each other. That distraction gave me the chance to dash through the forest, making my way to the tower. This had to be the place where the kids were supposed to finish their Chūnin Exam, like in the anime. I had no idea how they pulled that off.

From the roof of the tower, a crimson beam of chakra shot straight into the sky. And there was so much of it. I knew bijū were on another level, but the sheer amount was overwhelming. It made me want to crawl on my belly, trembling with envy and primal fear. The kind of fear that made your skin feel too tight, that sent your instincts into overdrive. I don’t even remember how I managed to move forward through that suffocating dread. For some reason, I thought of my parents. And of my late grandfather’s stories about the war. He said the fear was unbearable, but it was even worse to shut your eyes and give in.

Somehow, I ended up in the building's basement. The air reeked of rats—or something that smelled like rats—but it was eerily quiet. Every living thing seemed to have fled.

Then I saw it. Massive green hands and a grotesque head. It finally clicked. That thing was the Gedo Statue, the monstrosity that ripped bijū out of their jinchūriki. This was the Akatsuki. The shadowy shinobi organization in those cloaks with red clouds. This was how they killed Gaara! I’d seen that episode—the one where the Kazekage gets revived and they all return to the Sand Village. Sergey had told me something about an Uchiha being involved, a friend of his favorite character, Kakashi. Apparently, Kakashi’s friend died at some point, but that’s as much as I remember. It never seemed important—what did it matter in a world so different from that anime? Yet now, in this reality, it looked like the Akatsuki was real, and things were just as dangerous as they were on screen. If not worse.

And then I caught her scent.

Kushina-san. She was lying on the cold floor, bound. Her vivid red hair was tangled and spread out around her, a bruise marring her jawline, blood trickling from her mouth... just like Sano. There was no one else around—at least no one I could sense. The overwhelming demonic chakra from the statue made it impossible to detect anyone else. Why was it sending all that chakra skyward? What was the point?

Come on! Wake up! Now’s not the time to sleep!

The oppressive hum from that horrifying statue drowned out everything else. I couldn’t hear if her heart was beating. But it had to be. It was, wasn’t it? She had to be alive.

Wake up, Kushina-san!