Beuwulf
patreon
Mastering the Elements - Chapter - 97
🕑 Added 2025-09-29 14:24:07 +0000 UTCThe silence after Orochimaru’s escape pressed on Itachi like a vice. The serpent’s laughter still echoed faintly in the cavern, but the stench of chemicals and death dragged him back to the present. He could chase. He could hunt the monster down and end him before he shed another skin.
But his eyes wandered back to the broken cots, the weak coughs, and the shallow breathing of children who were neither alive nor allowed to die. Their eyes begged wordlessly. Rage flared inside him, but his discipline forced it into a sharp, focused point.
“No… killing Orochimaru now would change nothing if these children die here.”
He reached into his cloak and pulled out a smooth, square cut —enchanted mirror crafted by his father. Its surface shimmered like water though no light touched it.
He placed it on the cracked stone floor and whispered, “Father.”
The mirror rippled, and in a heartbeat, Harry Pottaru’s face appeared. His expression, usually calm, hardened instantly as he took in the blood stains on his son’s robes.
“Itachi.” His voice was steady, but the weight behind it was immense. “What happened?”
Itachi’s voice remained low, almost detached, but the crimson of his Sharingan betrayed his fury.
“Orochimaru escaped. His base is filled with the bodies of children. Many are dead, but some still cling to life. I… considered pursuing him, but my conscience does not allow it. These children need help more than the snake deserves death.”
Harry was silent for a moment, his gaze sharp. Then he nodded.
“You chose well. Life before vengeance. That is what separates us from him.”
Without warning, the mirror shimmered, and Harry stepped through, his form folding reality as easily as water spilling from a jug. He landed lightly on the stone, eyes sweeping the chamber. The aura around him was calm, but beneath it burned something fierce and immovable.
“Father…” Itachi inclined his head. “I should stay and—”
“No,” Harry interrupted, voice firm. “You’ve done enough. You’ve risked enough. Go back to Konoha.”
Itachi’s jaw tightened. “But these children—”
Harry placed a hand on his shoulder. The warmth in that touch cut through the weight of death that hung in the room.
“I said go, Itachi. You are my sword in battle. I will be their healer.”
Itachi looked into his father’s eyes. For the first time since entering the base, he allowed his shoulders to relax. He bowed his head once in acknowledgement.
“Yes, Father.”
Harry extended his hand. With a flick of chakra and magic woven together, hundreds of wood clones sprouted from the ground, each one a mirror of his will. They moved with purpose, their steps echoing like a disciplined army.
The clones spread through the base, searching every chamber. Within moments, their voices echoed back:
“Here, a girl with collapsed lungs!”
“A boy with necrotic chakra burns!”
“Three children unconscious, but breathing!”
Harry closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. When he exhaled, a soft golden light seeped from his body, merging with the earthy pulse of his Wood Release. The cavern shifted; the oppressive air lightened, as though hope had finally dared to enter.
One by one, the clones began stabilizing the children, weaving seals of containment to halt the spread of poisonous chakra, channeling pure natural energy to knit torn flesh. Some used magic, whispering words of ancient power to purge corruption. Others layered medical ninjutsu across broken bodies until steady breaths returned.
Harry knelt beside the smallest child, a boy barely four. His skin was ashen, bones brittle from forced mutations. Harry placed both hands over the child’s chest, closed his eyes, and whispered, “Reparo vitae.”
The glow that followed was neither purely magic nor purely chakra but a fusion that transcended both. Slowly, color returned to the boy’s cheeks. His breathing steadied.
“Rest now, little one,” Harry murmured.
Itachi lingered at the edge of the hall, watching. His chest tightened at the sight of so many small bodies, and yet—relief flickered inside him as Harry’s clones moved like a forest of guardians, tirelessly saving lives.
“Father,” Itachi said finally, his voice quiet. “I almost killed Orochimaru today. A part of me still wishes I had.”
Harry looked up, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he answered softly, “And if you had, these children would already be dead. Power means nothing if we cannot choose where to wield it.”
Itachi lowered his eyes. “I understand.”
Harry studied him for a moment longer, then turned back to the children.
“Go, Itachi. Leave the healing to me.”
For once, Itachi did not argue. He gave his father a final nod, then turned and disappeared into the shadows, his figure dissolving into silence.
The chamber was no longer a morgue. Under Harry’s guidance, it became a sanctuary. Wood clones wrapped children in protective cocoons of living bark, channeling warmth and life into them. The fetid smell of decay was gradually replaced by the clean scent of sap and green leaves.
Harry stood at the center, his eyes glowing faintly as he directed his army. Each healing act was his own hand extended, his own heart poured into their survival.
“None of you will die here,” he whispered, though no one was close enough to hear. “Not while I still breathe.”
The torches flared brighter, as though the cavern itself bent to his will.
The forest outside Orochimaru’s hidden base was unnaturally quiet. Karin adjusted her glasses and closed her eyes, allowing her chakra to spread outward like ripples across a pond. She was a sensor unlike most others — her ability was sharp, precise, and terrifyingly accurate.
She frowned, her hands tightening against her arms. “The battle… it’s inside the labs. The chakra fluctuations are enormous.”
Jugo shifted uneasily, his broad frame tense. “Is Orochimaru fighting?”
“Yes.” Karin’s voice trembled slightly. “But—something’s wrong. His chakra is unstable… scattered. And… and now it’s fleeing.”
Suigetsu, the quietest of the trio, raised his eyebrows. “Fleeing?”
Karin’s eyes snapped open, disbelief painted across her face. “Yes. Orochimaru… is running. Running away from someone so young…” Her gaze lingered toward the stone walls of the base. “I don’t understand it. He never runs.”
Moments later, the iron doors creaked open. A tall figure in a dark cloak stepped into the light. His Sharingan still glimmered faintly, the glow fading as his power calmed.
Itachi’s face was impassive, but his presence radiated authority and precision. There was no bloodlust in his eyes, only quiet determination.
Karin stiffened. That chakra… it’s overwhelming. Like a still ocean hiding unfathomable depth.
Jugo clenched his fists, nervous but drawn to him. Suigetsu exchanged a wary glance with Karin.
Itachi stopped before them, his gaze briefly sweeping over each one. “You followed.”
Karin swallowed hard. “We… we stayed back. We could sense the battle. Did you… did you fight Orochimaru?”
“I did,” Itachi said simply.
“And he ran,” Karin whispered, almost to herself. Her voice shook with shock. “You made Orochimaru run…”
Itachi didn’t answer. He turned slightly, clearly preparing to leave. But Jugo took a step forward.
“Wait,” Jugo called, his voice rough but earnest. His eyes flickered with both fear and desperation. “Can you… can you help me?”
Itachi paused, glancing back at him. “Help you?”
“My condition.” Jugo’s fists trembled at his sides. “Sometimes… I lose myself. I hurt people. I don’t want to, but it happens. I’ve been told Orochimaru is the only one who could… manage it. But he only wanted to use me.”
Karin bit her lip, watching closely. She knew what Jugo meant. She had seen the uncontrollable rages, the monstrous transformations that left him hollow with guilt.
Itachi studied him silently for a moment. Then he said, “You don’t need Orochimaru.”
Jugo blinked. “What?”
“My father is here,” Itachi continued. “Inside the lab. He’s healing the children who were experimented on. He is a great healer — skilled with both chakra and healing. If anyone can help you, it’s him.”
Jugo’s eyes widened. “Your… father?”
“Yes.” Itachi’s gaze softened just slightly. “Go to him. Trust him. He will not use you. He will heal you.”
Jugo stood frozen, hope and disbelief colliding in his chest. His whole life had been a chain of violence and control, but the calm certainty in Itachi’s voice pierced through the chaos.
Karin pushed her glasses up nervously. “Wait—you mean the one whose chakra signature is… so immense it feels like a whole forest is breathing?” She had sensed it moments ago when the clones began to spread. “That’s your father?”
Itachi inclined his head. “Yes. He is waiting.”
Karin exhaled slowly, muttering under her breath. “Incredible… no wonder Orochimaru fled. Facing someone was already too much. Facing another, with power like that…”
Suigetsu finally spoke, his tone practical. “Then we go inside. If this healer can help Jugo, and he’s already saving the children, we shouldn’t waste time.”
Itachi turned fully now, his cloak swaying as he prepared to vanish back toward Konoha.
“You’re not coming with us?” Karin asked, surprised.
“I have to report to the Hokage of Konoha,” Itachi said. “My father will stay here until the children are safe. Jugo — go to him. Karin, Suigetsu — guide him. Protect him until he finds his peace.”
He took a step forward, then added in a quieter voice, “You’ve already walked long paths of suffering. Don’t let Orochimaru’s shadow follow you any further.”
Karin felt her chest tighten. His words carried weight, not command but… recognition.
Before she could reply, Itachi blurred into motion. In an instant, he was gone, his figure swallowed by the forest.
The three stood in silence for a moment, the echo of his presence still heavy in the air.
Finally, Jugo muttered, his voice low, “He believes his father can help me…”
Karin put a hand on his arm, her tone unusually gentle. “Then let’s find out.”
Suigetsu nodded. “Yes. If that man inside truly can heal, this is our chance.”
Together, the three stepped through the iron doors. The smell of blood and medicine hit them instantly. But what they saw made them halt in awe.
Hundreds of wooden figures — clones — moved with purpose across the ruined laboratory. They carried children, laid healing seals, and spread green light of chakra and magic across broken bodies. The atmosphere, though grim, was alive with the pulse of hope.
And at the center stood Harry Pottaru, his aura vast and steady, his eyes glowing faintly as he directed his clones.
Jugo’s breath caught in his throat. For the first time in years, he felt something he thought he had lost forever.
Hope.
The cavern that only hours ago had been a prison of pain was now alive with movement. Hundreds of identical men — wooden clones sprouting from the very stone floor — worked tirelessly under the command of a single figure at the center.
One clone lifted a pale boy, bones protruding from his back, and carried him gently toward the exit. Another clone carried two toddlers, swaddled in living wood that pulsed faintly to keep their bodies warm.
Outside the entrance, more clones waited, arranging the rescued into rows: those breathing on one side, those who would never breathe again on the other.
When the first torch was lit, Suigetsu’s jaw clenched. “They’re… cremating them.”
Karin swallowed hard, her voice tight. “The ones who didn’t make it. He doesn’t want their bodies left in this place of filth.”
Beyond, fires flickered as clones laid bodies on pyres of clean wood, murmuring words of farewell in Harry’s voice. The acrid smoke rose toward the cavern’s roof, but it carried not just grief—it carried dignity.
“Steady his breathing,” Harry instructed one clone, kneeling beside a boy whose skin was mottled with cursed marks. He pressed his palm over the boy’s chest, whispering words in a language neither shinobi nor magical. The cursed veins faded, replaced with natural color. The child gasped, then sobbed softly as a clone wrapped him in a blanket of living bark.
Harry rose, scanning the chamber. His voice carried, calm yet absolute.
“Separate them. The healthy children—escort them outside. The badly wounded—bring them to me. Those beyond saving—prepare the flames. This place will not stand when we are finished.”
The clones answered in perfect unison, their voices echoing like an army of healers. “Yes, Master.”
Karin’s eyes widened. She had never seen such coordination, such control. He commands them like a general… but each one is him. It’s like watching a forest that breathes with one will.
Jugo took an uncertain step forward. His large frame seemed out of place among the small bodies of children, but his eyes were fixed on Harry with a desperate hope.
“You,” Jugo said, his voice rough. “You’re the healer, aren’t you?”
Harry glanced at him briefly, his green eyes sharp and clear. “Yes.”
“My… my condition.” Jugo’s fists clenched, trembling. “I lose control. I hurt people without meaning to. I—” His voice cracked, filled with years of shame. “Can you fix me? Please… can you stop it?”
Karin put a hand on his arm, as if to steady him. She had never seen Jugo plead before.
Harry studied him for a long moment. He could feel the unstable chakra within Jugo, like a storm caged in brittle glass. The boy was dangerous — to others, and to himself. But Harry’s voice, when it came, was steady.
“I will help you,” he said at last.
Jugo’s shoulders sagged with relief, but Harry continued.
“But not now. These children—” he gestured to the rows of broken bodies, the clones carrying more from the depths— “are closer to death than you. They need me first.”
Jugo’s jaw tightened. He wanted to protest, but the words died in his throat as he looked at the children. Tiny, frail, broken. Some were no older than four.
Harry’s tone softened. “Your storm has raged for years, hasn’t it? You’ve carried it this long. You can carry it a little longer. Let me save them first.”
Jugo lowered his head, his voice barely audible. “…I understand.”
Karin pushed her glasses up, her lips trembling. “You… you’re treating all of them? Alone?”
Harry shook his head. “Not alone.” He gestured to the sea of clones, each one working with precision. “Every one of them is me. My hands, my will. I will not stop until the last child is safe.”
Suigetsu let out a low whistle, trying to mask his unease with bravado. “Tch… this is insane. I’ve seen armies fight, but never an army that heals. Who the hell are you, really?”
Harry’s eyes flicked to him briefly, unreadable. “A Healer. That is enough.”
The words carried weight far beyond their simplicity. Karin felt it — not just the truth, but the conviction. This man wasn’t just saving children because it was right. He was saving them because to him, every child could have been his own.
As more children were escorted out, Harry straightened and looked at the walls. The seals, the tables, the chains—every part of the lab was steeped in Orochimaru’s cruelty.
“This place will not remain,” Harry said firmly. “When the last child leaves, this lab will be ash.”
Karin’s eyes widened. “You’re going to destroy the entire base?”
Harry nodded. “Some wounds must be cauterized. This place is one of them.”
The clones began setting seals along the walls, threads of chakra and magic intertwining into glowing vines. The whole cavern pulsed like a living heart, waiting for Harry’s final command.
-
