A Subtle Shift

12| Shackled to Reality

There was only one thing Isamu ever truly wanted. It was to protect those he shared a deep connection with. If it was such a straightforward task, why did it prove to be so incredibly difficult? Even as a kid, before his sisters were born, he could never seem to stand up for those he cared about. He watched in horror whenever his classmates were belittled and ridiculed by their superiors, he stood by the sidelines when he saw girls his age being picked on, and he helplessly shrunk in the face of bullies.

So to say the least, he wasn't able to protect anyone at all, least of all himself.

When he was younger, he outgrew his muddy-brown hair down to his mid-back before slicing it all off in a fit of rage. Rage aimed mostly at himself. He was upset that he never put up a fight, and he despised it when he tried to and still failed. It was like the universe itself just couldn't entertain the idea that Isamu could genuinely help people, even if only for a moment. He guessed that was what pushed him to want to become a shinobi. It was what drove him to success, per se.

And for the most part, it worked.

With the birth of the twins came a new chapter in his life. Though perceived as some happy-go-lucky idiot who couldn't stop smiling, his intentions were true and pure. He bestowed it upon himself that he'd protect his sisters with his life. At the time, it was him, his mother, his father, and the twins. And then his father went missing, and it shattered him. The twins never fully knew Yuto, and that pained Isamu the most because their father was a good man. But just like clouds blocking the sun, the light stopped shining down on them.

As time went by, Isamu spent less and less time with his sisters, putting himself through brutal training in order to improve. He worked relentlessly, dragging himself through dirt and drowning himself in a sea of pain. Day after day, night after night... deaths after deaths. He went on missions in groups of five and regularly came back alone. He hated himself more than ever at that point because even after all that self-inflicted suffering, he couldn't even protect his comrades. He nearly lost himself in that fiery rage of self-hatred, and just before he hit rock bottom, it was like that cloud blocking the sun cleared, and light reentered his life. His mother took his hand and begged him to take a break.

And take a break he did. In that year away from the battlefield, Isamu found himself again. His usual bubbly personality and his affection for his sisters shone through the cracks of despair. It was like a deep breath of non-intoxicated air that he'd been longing for for so long. His trips to the graveyard turned into tours around Konoha, his nightmares that anchored him to his depression flew away in the current. The shackles binding him to his self-pity deteriorated. And he realized that that was what got him to be so strong. When he had people to protect, that made him stronger than ever.

So you can just imagine what he felt when Akira was kidnapped. It was surreal. He would have gone into a frenzy had the Hokage not stopped him. So he swore to himself that he'd never let it happen again. He'd never allow his sisters to be taken away from him for as long as he lived.

Or... so he thought.

———

Naruto groaned. His head felt groggy and a headache was steadily marching to his brain. His mouth tasted of iron and was insanely dry. He felt terrible. He didn't even know what was going on with his eyes slammed shut. He was in too much pain to open them, so he relied on his other senses. He tried listening in around him, but the voices were muffled, making the words impossible to decipher. As for smelling—the air seemed to be stained with... Dirt? Saltwater? Blood? All of the above? Feeling came back into his limbs and he sunk into what he could feel. His wrists—both of them seemed to be restrained by a heavy metal, chained to the ground. His ankles were also shackled to the floor—he was on hard rock, he guessed.