Naruto: The Chosen Undead-Chapter no.183 Naruto

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Chapter 183 The End of Gato

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It was around three in the morning when Naruto and his group arrived at the Wave Country's Daimyō Palace.

The moon hung low over the sea, silver light catching the edges of the great fortress nestled atop the terraced hill. Built like a citadel, not a home, the palace loomed over the landscape. White stone walls rose like cliffs, crowned with curved, black-tiled roofs stacked in tiers. Crimson banners hung from the corners, limp in the salt-laced wind. Lanterns flickered in alcoves, struggling against the creeping mist that licked at the earth below.

And at the base of the slope, just before the drawbridge that led to the gate, was a crowd.

Hundreds of them.

Most wore rags and patched clothes. Some held pitchforks or sticks. Others bore signs made of planks with scrawled pleas like Justice for the Wave or Save Our Nation. A few just stood silently, carrying nothing but a child on their hip and a hopeful look in their eyes.

They had come after the Archer of Providence had wiped out Gato's men in a single night. They came not in defiance, but in hope. Not hope in the Archer.

Hope in their Daimyō.

Hope that, with Gato's iron grip broken, the man who bore their flag and title would finally listen. That now, finally, he would speak for them. Act for them. That had been weeks ago and yet they stayed.

Some from desperation. Some because they had nowhere left to return to. Others because, once they had begun waiting, they didn't know what else to do. What if leaving meant missing the one moment something might change?

They slept in circles, backs to the wind, leaning on each other to stay warm. They boiled roots, shared fish, told stories in low murmurs.

And they watched the palace above.

"They've changed," Naruto murmured. "The first time I saw them, they couldn't even look Gato's thugs in the eye."

Zabuza followed his gaze, one hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword. "Now they're standing outside a fortress they could never breach, waiting for something they don't even know will happen."

"That's the thing," Naruto said. "They still came."

Zabuza snorted. "Fools and hope. Same flavor."

Behind them, further up the slope, Hinata—disguised with a perfect Transformation Jutsu—stood in quiet conversation with Lady Kiku and her son. Haku remained nearby, subtly adjusting the boy's collar.

"How do you wanna do this?" Zabuza asked, glancing back at the civilians they had just saved.

"We walk through the front gate."

Zabuza blinked. Then scoffed. "You are the worst ninja I've ever met."

"Why, because I don't sneak around like a rat?"

"No," Zabuza said, straightening. "Because you're making a political statement. That's what this is. You're throwing off the whole shinobi thing just so you can say to the whole damn country, I don't answer to lords. They answer to me."

Naruto tilted his head. "Am I wrong?"

"Doesn't matter. It's stupid."

"I'd say it's brave."

"I'd say it's gonna get you shot."

"I've been shot at before."

Zabuza rolled his eyes. "I say we do this the old-fashioned way. Climb the wall, sneak through the shadows, take out the guards."

Naruto hummed. "Yeah. But talking to the Daimyō and having him lead us to Gato… means Gato can't pull anything stupid like biting down on poison or blowing himself up."

Zabuza raised a brow. "You think that old noble is gonna help us?"

Naruto smirked. "He will. After I talk."

Zabuza groaned. "If you're gonna talk, then at least don't sound like some brat from Konoha."

"Got any tips?"

"Actually…" Zabuza cracked his neck. "Yeah. You ever heard of Ghostmouth Technique?"

Naruto raised a brow. "That's not ominous at all."

"It's a low-level sound manipulation jutsu we used back in the Mist," Zabuza explained. "Basic principle: infuse chakra into your vocal cords, then adjust the tension and frequency. You're not just changing pitch, you're shifting how the sound leaves your throat. Makes it echo differently. Trickier than it sounds, but not too hard."

Naruto's eyes gleamed. "Wait, wait... so I can change my voice?"

"With practice. You start by channeling chakra along the airflow. Think of it like tuning a string. Too loose and the voice goes low, too tight and it goes high. Add pressure through your diaphragm and…"

He trailed off as Naruto cleared his throat and said, in Zabuza's exact gravelly drawl: "We go in loud. Smash the gate. Make the cowards piss themselves."

Zabuza blinked. "...You picked that up way too fast."

"You picked that up fast," Zabuza muttered, genuinely taken aback. This brat… If Naruto could adapt this quickly, maybe he really was more of a prodigy than even Haku.

Naruto grinned and shifted his tone again, perfectly mimicking Haku's gentle voice. "So… do I call you Zabuza-sensei now?"

Zabuza gave him a deadpan look. "I don't care."

Naruto dropped his voice low and just a little too deep. "Zabuza-chan."

A chill went down Zabuza's spine. His eye twitched. "One more word, and I'm throwing you off this cliff."

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It was supposed to be a reign of peace.

Daimyō Honda Tadakatsu stood in the high chamber of the Wave Country's palace, hands clasped behind his back, the sea wind seeping through the cracks in the shuttered windows. The moonlight cast long bars of silver on the polished stone floor, but it did nothing to soothe his nerves.

A ruler should not tremble in his own hall. And yet...

He had once believed he could outmaneuver men like Gato. That coin and compromise would be enough. That all it would take was a few delays, some hidden letters, a signal to the right village at the right time.

But that was before Gato took his wife and child.

It happened so fast, he thought, bitterness clawing at his chest. One night, they were on a ship to a diplomatic summit across the sea. The next, the vessel was declared lost. A storm, the reports said. A tragic accident.

Only he knew the truth: Gato had staged it. He had intercepted the ship, taken his family, and left just enough wreckage to make the story believable. Then came the terms: comply, or the boy dies. Disobey, and his wife would be made an example of.

The Daimyō had watched, powerless, as Gato's merchants turned to thugs, then slavers, then tyrants. Every week, new edicts were passed with his seal: taxes that broke backs, arrests that made mothers scream, and food diverted to criminal stockpiles. And all the while, the people suffered and whispered, not knowing their leader was chained by love and cowardice.

He wanted to believe he'd done what he could. That the day the bridge was completed would be the day everything changed.

But then he arrived.

The Archer of Providence.

No one knew his name. Only that in one night, Gato's gangs were annihilated.

At first, Tadakatsu thought it was a miracle as Gato began to unravel. The crime lord had always been callous, but now he was unhinged. He ranted to shadows, accused his own guards of treason, refused food for days. He moved into the palace with a dozen retainers and slept with weapons under his pillow.

It was clear, then: Gato's empire was a house of cards, and the Archer had kicked in the door.

Tadakatsu hadn't slept the entire day.

Not for lack of trying but because Gato hadn't, either.

The old merchant had been pacing the halls like a rat in a collapsing ship, gibbering half-thoughts to himself and grinning like he'd won some game no one else was playing.

He'd stopped carrying his sword.

That worried Tadakatsu more than anything.

The man who once held his wife and son hostage, who carved a criminal empire from the bones of the Wave's people, had suddenly stopped guarding himself. He spent his days muttering in the gardens. He hadn't touched a meal. He hadn't left the castle in a week. And yet, for the first time since arriving, Gato looked almost… happy.

He's planning something.

No doubt.

Tadakatsu's thoughts churned. There are Konoha shinobi in the country; multiple teams, from what I've gathered. If I could just get word to one of them… maybe one squad could take Gato out, and another could save Kiku and our son. But it was a gamble. Gato had informants tucked into every corner of the castle. Every whisper risked exposure. Every slip could doom the only thing Tadakatsu had left.

Still… he was close to acting.

He had already begun drafting the message. The wax seal was half-pressed when it happened.

A swirl of mist rolled through the grand hall of the castle like smoke from the underworld.

Dozens of palace soldiers raised their muskets and then… they appeared.

Honda Tadakatsu focused on the woman and child before him... and hesitated. "How... how do I know you are truly my wife and son?" he asked, voice brittle. "How do I know this isn't a genjutsu?"

"Do you remember the night of our arranged marriage, my lord? You told me we'd be divorced by morning. That you had no interest in a stranger chosen for you."

Lady Kiku took a slow step forward, eyes never leaving his. "That night, I sat by the window, telling a story to my maid. You were just outside, listening. When I stopped, you asked me to continue."

She paused, letting the moment hang.

"I said we could talk about divorce tomorrow, so why bother… but you wanted to hear the rest of the story."

The Daimyō's breath caught.

"You asked me what it was about," she said softly. "And I told you that it was the story of my life. You said…" Her voice trembled slightly. "You said if I'd let you, you'd listen to that story for the rest of yours."

She stepped closer, and her voice lowered into something gentler. "So tell me, my lord… do you still remember how it goes?"

Tadakatsu froze. For a moment, the months and burdens fell from his shoulders. Wordlessly, he crossed the courtyard in two strides and folded them both into a trembling embrace.

As he leaned in, Kiku whispered sharply into his ear. "Be warned, my lord. The Archer is here. Do not challenge him. Gato tried… and now Gato has nothing."

Tadakatsu's spine stiffened. He let go, signaled his guards with a sharp gesture. "Escort them to the royal physician. Now."

The soldiers bowed and immediately led Kiku and her son from the courtyard.

The Daimyō turned to Zabuza and, to everyone's shock, bowed deeply. A gesture rare for a man of his rank. "You've returned my family to me. For that, I owe more than thanks. You may have saved this nation."

But before he could say more, a palace samurai stepped forward, half-drawing his blade.

"My lord, this man is Zabuza Momochi. A rogue from Kirigakure. He worked for Gato. He attacked the bridge builder."

Zabuza barely glanced at him. His voice dripped with disdain. "Yet here I am with the one who saved your lord's wife. What does that tell you, little samurai?"

The samurai gritted his teeth, hand on his hilt.

"Go ahead. Draw. Let's see if your head doesn't roll to your lord's feet."

Tension coiled in the courtyard like a drawn bowstring.

Tadakatsu stepped forward, raising a hand. "I believe the Archer of Providence is involved in this."

Zabuza caught the cue instantly. "Yeah. We've come to deliver justice… and Gato's the target."

The Daimyō exhaled, understanding the game now. "Then where is he? Where is the Archer?"

He got his answer when the castle itself seemed to scream.

Across the halls and towers, cries echoed as Gato's hidden spies and agents fell one by one, their throats cut. Shadow Clones moved like wraiths through the mist, guided by the commands of Hinata's Byakugan.

And then, he arrived.

Naruto dropped into the courtyard like a hammer from the heavens, clad in dark leathers and a porcelain mask. On either side of him landed Haku and Hinata. The soldiers froze. Even the monk beside Tadakatsu took an instinctive step back.

The Daimyō swallowed, hard. He turned to his retainers, voice quiet but firm. "We go to the bunker. I'll guide them myself."

The monk's brow furrowed. "My lord, your safety..."

"If they wanted me dead," Tadakatsu said, voice thin, "I don't think I could stop it."

No one argued.

Not when death walked among them… and wore a mask.

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The group descended into the palace's underbelly. Lanterns guttered against the damp air, casting long shadows over ancient tapestries and empty suits of armor. Every step they took echoed like a verdict. The deeper they went, the quieter the palace became, as if the building itself held its breath.

"I must say," the Daimyō ventured, his tone diplomatic, "I'm something of a fan of your work, Archer-sama."

Naruto said nothing.

The Daimyō tried again, forcing a laugh. "You know… normally, a man of my rank doesn't lead others through his own halls."

"Normally," Naruto said without turning, "you don't let a crime lord take your wife and child while your people starve in the dirt."

The words were flat.

The samurai guards shifted. One, younger than the rest, reached toward his hilt. "I advise you to speak with respect..."

A sudden shift. Naruto's next words rang out in a crisp, refined female voice, "Respect is not owed. It is earned."

The samurai froze.

Naruto stopped. "Your people were crying. You were silent."

Then a young boy's voice, barely a whisper: "We asked you for help."

Finally, he turned around. The porcelain mask gleamed.

"And you turned away."

Zabuza let out a low, half-snickering grunt. "Kid, you keep talking like that, I might start following you."

The Daimyō's voice strained. "I was forced. Gato… he had my wife. My son. He made demands."

"Then you were a man caught in a trap," Naruto said, his tone now matching the Daimyō's exactly. "That's fine. That's forgivable."

He took a step forward, voice shifting again, this time mimicking the old woman from the village gates. "But what about after? After the Archer broke his armies?"

He paused. The silence was deafening.

"You didn't send word to Konoha. You didn't reach out to another village. You didn't even whisper to a courier."

Now his voice was his own again. His next words hit like a knife.

"You didn't try."

The Daimyō's face flushed; not just shame now, but the cracking of pride. "You think it was that simple?"

"It never is," Naruto said, stepping closer. "But you still had a choice. And when I wiped out his men and he slithered into your castle to lick his wounds, you let him."

Another step. The mask was inches from the Daimyō's face now. The air between them charged.

"Your nation was burning," Naruto said quietly, "and you warmed your hands by the fire."

The silence afterward was heavier than stone. No guard moved. No one spoke. The only sound was the quiet crackle of a nearby torch and the slow beat of guilt settling in.

Even the Daimyō, a man groomed for power, bred for dignity, could find nothing to say.

Naruto broke the silence once more, softer now. "You wanted to be a ruler without having to choose. But choosing is the job."

The Daimyō swallowed, his voice barely audible. "What would you have done?"

Naruto looked at him.

"Anything."

And then he turned, walking toward the final set of doors, leaving behind only silence. Finally, they arrived at the core of the bunker. Gold filigree lined the doors, the air heavy with damp stone and old secrets. Hinata stopped before one of the rooms, her eyes scanning.

"He's in there," she said. "He's pretending to sleep. The room's warded, but sloppily. No guards."

Naruto and Zabuza stepped forward together, side by side, stopping just in front of the door.

"I'm gonna kill the bastard," Zabuza muttered, cracking his neck. "For stabbing me in the back. And I'm getting my money."

"I'm gonna talk to him. For every family he ruined."

Behind them, Haku's voice broke in casually. "Why not take turns?"

Naruto and Zabuza exchanged a look. "Rock, paper, scissors?"

Zabuza gave a nod. "One... two... three..."

The Daimyō and his guards sweat-dropped as Naruto threw rock and Zabuza threw paper.

Naruto clicked his tongue. "Tch. Fine. You get first go."

Zabuza grinned like a shark behind his bandages and pushed the door open. The sound of startled shouting, followed by several gunshots, echoed through the hallway. Then came the distinct, meaty thump of Kubikiribōchō carving through flesh.

A scream followed. "AAHHHH MY HAND!"

"You guys might want to wait outside," Naruto said to the Daimyō, who shook his head.

"No. I want to hear every scream. That bastard deserves worse than death."

Naruto shrugged. "Suit yourself."

He reached into his pack and pulled out a small lacquered box, popping it open to reveal a worn but complete chess set.

"Want to play something while Baby Brows is in therapy mode?" Naruto asked.

Hinata and Haku both nodded, settling around the board.

"What is this?" Hinata asked, studying the unfamiliar pieces.

"Chess," Naruto said. "It's a game from Catarina that Sir Siegmeyer taught me during my training. He's terrible at it."

"How do we play?" Haku asked, tilting his head.

Naruto opened his mouth to explain when another blood-curdling scream tore through the door. It was followed by a thud and what sounded like a small avalanche of limbs hitting the floor.

"OI!" Naruto shouted back. "Baby Brows! I swear, if you kill him before my turn, we're throwing hands!"

Zabuza's only response was another wet, cleaving chonk.

Naruto winced. "That sounded like a knee. Damn it, that was gonna be my opener..."

He looked back at the board. "Anyway. Where were we?"

Hinata moved her pawn. "Your move."

From behind the door, Gato screamed again.

Naruto smiled. "Man, this is the most relaxing game of chess I've ever played."

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Zabuza took his sweet time torturing Gato, really savoring it. "You can come in."

Naruto opened the door without hesitation, completely ignoring the stench, which made a butcher shop smell like a candy store in comparison.

He shut it just as quickly.

"...Is he even alive?" Naruto asked after seeing what remained of Gato. The man looked like he'd been fed through a meat grinder and spat back out.

Zabuza casually glanced at the clock. "For about ten more seconds."

Naruto gave him a look. The man had clearly found some kind of loophole to prolong the torture without technically killing him. With a sigh, Naruto held out his hand and cast Heal. The glow washed over what remained of Gato, flesh and muscle knitting back together until he looked like a pathetic, shaggy-haired little man trembling on the floor.

Naruto blinked. "Wow. You're... way less impressive than I thought you'd be."

Gato's eyes bulged, twitching in every direction like a cornered rodent. Sweat poured down his face, soaking through his filthy collar. He whimpered something incomprehensible, mouth too dry to form words.

Then, without warning, he lunged.

His trembling fingers wrapped around a jagged shard of broken porcelain. Before anyone could stop him, he plunged it into his own throat with a guttural scream. Blood erupted in a wet spray. He fell to the ground, thrashing and gurgling, eyes wide, choking on his own blood. His legs kicked uselessly. His face twisted, not in pain, but in relief. This was escape. This was freedom.

Naruto didn't move.

He stood there, just long enough. He waited until Gato's heartbeat slowed to a crawl, until his skin turned clammy and pale, until the flicker of life behind those wide, horrified eyes was seconds from vanishing.

Heal.

Golden light surged.

Flesh stitched back together. The bleeding stopped. The shard slipped from Gato's limp hand. He gasped violently, like a drowning man yanked from the depths. His eyes rolled, lips quivering, breath sharp and shallow. But it wasn't relief in his face now.

It was terror.

Pure, paralyzing terror.

His gaze found Naruto, and the realization hit. He didn't even own his own death anymore.

His final escape was denied.

There would be no release. No end. Only more. More pain. More fear. More of him. And in that moment, Gato broke.

"My turn," Zabuza said, stretching his neck.

"What are you talking about?" Naruto asked.

"You took your turn. Letting him die. Letting him feel that dread. That hopelessness." Zabuza cracked his knuckles. "Now it's mine."

"That was just coincidence," Naruto replied flatly. He raised his hand and used telekinesis to yank Gato into the air like a ragdoll.

"Well, technically..."

"Technically, I saved your life and Haku's," Naruto interrupted. "So either shut up and let me have my turn, or we can fight for the prize: torturing Gato."

Zabuza raised his hand in mock surrender. "Whatever. Doesn't matter. I already used one of the most forbidden torture techniques. You can't top that."

"Can't I?" Naruto said, smiling.

Zabuza's eyes narrowed.

"Baby Brows," Naruto began, "what do you know about killing intent and its three stages?"

Zabuza crossed his arms. "Killing intent is residual yin chakra, leftover from past kills. There's A Sense of Danger, where your presence makes people's skin crawl. Then Illusory Killer Intent, where you trigger death hallucinations. And the third, True Intent to Kill. That one makes the victim believe they're actually dying. They feel everything your last victim felt."

Naruto nodded. "And what would you say mine's at?"

Zabuza let out a breath. "The last time we fought, it was Illusory Killer Intent. I have been meaning to ask, how the hell do you have that already?"

Naruto's eyes narrowed slightly. "I've killed a lot."

"Please!" Gato begged. "You're not like me! You're supposed to be a hero! You're the Archer of—"

Naruto leaned in close. "I'm not a hero," he whispered, voice like steel wrapped in frost. "I'm the one who promised you something."

He slammed Gato into a desk. Wood splintered. Bones cracked.

"Remember what I told you?"

Gato's broken face stared up, dazed and uncomprehending.

Naruto pulled his mask off. The eyes of a dragon bored into Gato's soul. "I told you I'd find you."

His voice dropped lower, colder.

"And when I did..."

Chakra began to flow in a dense cloud around Naruto.

"I'd show you what a real monster looks like."

Gato barely had time to think as Naruto released it.

Chakra surged out of him like a storm breaking its cage. The floor cracked. The walls trembled. Zabuza flinched as the hair on the back of his neck stood up straight. And all that killing intent, focused like a blade, pressed down on Gato.

The world changed.

Gone was the warm flicker of lamps, the soft rustle of silk curtains, the polished floor of a tyrant's den. In its place, a grey sea that stretched into nothingness. There was no sky, only layers of oppressive fog that choked the senses. And above that, deeper still, something vast stirred beyond sight.

Gato stood, if the word could be used, upon nothing. Stone that wasn't stone. Sea that wasn't water. A dreamscape, primordial and wrong.

Then they came.

First, the groaning rise of the Hollowed. A sea of the undead crawling from the fog like forgotten memories. Then, shadows above. The distant flap of colossal wings. The sky opened to reveal thunder of drakes. And at their head, fire. A scream of heat as the Hellkite Wyvern announced its arrival with a roar that shook the fog into shapes that should not be.

The air shimmered. Graceful wings like stained glass folded open, revealing the Moonlight Butterfly, its alien song reverberating in Gato's chest.

Rot came next.

The Undead Dragon lumbered through the mists, trailing viscera and vapor. The ground quaked with its every half-dead breath. From the sea, the Hydra slithered into view, its heads rising one by one in silent, serpentine judgment.

He turned to flee, but there was no escape.

More came.

The Taurus Demon stomped forward, eyes alight with smoldering rage. The Capra Demon followed, dragging its cleavers. Black Knights appeared beside them. And then the fog parted.

The sea boiled.

Something titanic stirred beneath.

A shadow moved against the stars that were not stars, wings unfolding wide enough to eclipse everything. And from the depths, with a slowness that mocked all mortal time, rose the Everlasting Dragon.

Its mere presence was absolute.

It stood among the others and they knelt.

Gato, a speck in this funeral procession of monsters, tried to scream. No sound came. His body was a vessel of static, a fractured husk of meat barely containing panic. The dragon's eyes locked onto him, and Gato understood. He was not a man. He was not a tyrant. He was not even prey.

He was irrelevant. Forgotten. A blink of existence in an age he had no right to witness.

And then the dragon spoke, not in words, but in soul.

Let this be your judgment, Gato.

The void accepted the decree and the monsters obeyed.

The Hollowed surged first, clawing at him with broken fingers and shattered teeth. Gato screamed, but the sound came out wet and gurgling as they tore through flesh like paper. One crushed his legs beneath its weight. Another gnawed at his eye. He died choking on his own blood.

Then he was whole again.

And the sky screamed.

The Hellkite Wyvern descended like a meteor, its maw wide with agonizing fire. The heat burned away thought, skin blistering and popping before the flame even touched. Gato ran, and then the fire took him. His lungs filled with liquid flame. He died screaming, his soul igniting inside his body.

Then he was whole again.

And the Undead Dragon reared above him, its breath a gust of rotted eternity. Flies poured from its chest cavity. Its half-rotten jaws opened wide, and the darkness inside devoured him. His bones cracked in places he didn't know he had. Its tongue coiled around his spine and snapped it like twine.

Then he was whole again.

The Capra Demon came next, its cleavers dragging through the fog with a sound that scraped the marrow. It didn't run. It simply appeared, swung once, and bisected him from shoulder to hip. He collapsed, trying to hold his insides in. Then the blade fell again.

And again.

And again.

He lost count after seven deaths.

The Hydra took him from behind. Teeth like blades pierced him from six directions. He was yanked into the air, limbs torn apart like boiled chicken. His heart still beat as he watched his own arms fall into the sea. The Black Knights came in silence.

One blade split his skull.

Another split his soul.

Then the Everlasting Dragon moved. It did not roar. It simply breathed. And Gato unraveled. He became ash. Then thought. Then nothing. Then ash again. Each cell, each strand of his being, was rewritten into pain, torn apart by the sheer gravitational pressure of a being older than gods.

He died a thousand deaths.

Then a thousand more.

Each monster claimed him. Each death taught him something new about suffering. The claws of the Hollowed. The fire of the drakes. The breath of dragons. The steel of knights. None of them gave him the mercy of finality.

Time stopped being real because pain was eternity.

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The sun rose slowly over the Land of Waves, casting soft golden light on a village that had once lived in the shadow of a tyrant. But this morning was different.

A crowd had gathered near the old docks, where the village square met the water's edge, where once, Gato's warship had threatened the people. Now, they stood shoulder to shoulder in stunned silence, staring at something impossible.

Something vindicating.

In the middle of the square stood a wooden pylon, and chained atop it in a crude iron cage was Gato.

The once-proud merchant lord, the monster who bought lives like produce, who crushed spirits with gold and gangs, was now a wretched husk of a man. His fine clothes were torn and fouled. His fingers were bloodied and raw from clawing at the bars. His eyes, once shrewd and predatory, were now wide with madness and rimmed with dark bruises.

He trembled constantly. Mumbled to himself in broken, terrified gasps. The dragon… the dragon god… he's still watching… oh gods, please, I didn't mean it… mercy… mercy…

Carved into the base of the pylon, clear and cold as steel, were the words:

Do not kill him. Let him suffer in fear.

At first, the people stared in disbelief. Could this really be Gato? The tyrant who stole their dignity and silenced their cries? The devil who made fathers kneel and mothers sell everything but their grief?

Some began to laugh, the sound hysterical and disbelieving. Others stepped forward with anger that had simmered for years. A stone flew. Then another. Soon, they pelted him with rotten old fruit, moldy bread, spit.

But still, the sign remained. Do not kill him.

Eventually, the frenzy ebbed and something worse took its place.

Apathy.

They stopped caring. Gato was no longer a monster. He was nothing now. Not a lord. Not a man. Not even a threat. He was just a pitiful thing that was quickly forgotten, ignored and starved of the fear he once thrived on.

Children played in the square without glancing at the cage. Vendors set up their stalls, refusing to offer him food or even scorn. Day by day, the tyrant was slowly erased. And one morning, many weeks later, someone noticed the cage was silent.

They peeked in.

Gato was still. Dead. Curled in the fetal position, his eyes frozen open in terror. Mouth agape in a silent scream. No one held a funeral. No one marked his grave. The villagers simply burned the cage, wood and corpse and all, without ceremony. The ashes blew out over the water and into the vast, uncaring sea.

Gato, the man who fancied himself a god, ended as nothing more than a stain no one would bother remembering.

Fitting, really.

The man who wanted to rule everything… wasn't even granted the dignity of dying on his own terms.

Irony is a bitch.

And justice, when delivered by dragons, is everlasting.

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Author's Note

So… here we are. The end of the Wave Arc. freeweɓnovel-cøm

Honestly, I don't have a massive Author's Note planned this time because I feel like most of this chapter (and this arc) spoke for itself. That said, if you have any questions about specific moments, decisions, or foreshadowing, feel free to ask in the comments. I'll be happy to respond and nerd out with you all.

But now I want to ask you something.

What did you think of the Wave Arc compared to canon?

I know this arc has been a lot. I had so many threads, layers, and character moments I wanted to include. And yeah, I'll admit that led to some pacing hiccups here and there. But I genuinely tried to make this feel like something meaningful. Something different, without losing the spirit of Naruto.

And trust me, the ripples from what happened here?

They're going to crash hard into the Chunin Exams.

Things will not be the same.

To everyone who stuck around for this wild, bloody, soul-filled ride—thank you.

Your support means more than I can say. I hope this chapter gave you a satisfying, horrifying, emotional payoff to everything we've been building.

Now, let me know your thoughts down below.

Let's talk about it.

— Adam

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[ Personal Note: First off, thanks a ton to all of you for sticking with this story. Seriously, you guys are awesome. Now, if you're interested in supporting me on P@treon, let me just say that over there, I post these massive 5k-word chapters. But heads up, if you're jumping to P@treon, you'll need to start from Chapter 86, since that's where this chapter lines up with the content there.

To everyone here just reading along, please don't forget to leave a comment! Honestly, your comments make my day, and they let me know you're as invested in this story as I am. So yeah, thanks again, and I hope you have an amazing rest of your day!

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