Naruto: The Chosen Undead Chapter no.73 Naruto

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Chapter no.73 The Life of Sarutobi Asuma

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Sarutobi Asuma had lived a life that many envied.

The son of the Third Hokage.

Genin at nine.

Chūnin at twelve.

Jōnin at sixteen.

One hundred and fifty A-rank missions completed.

Eighteen S-rank missions successful.

It was a glittering résumé, enough to command awe and respect from anyone. Yet, none of it mattered when your father was the Professor, Hiruzen Sarutobi—the legend of Konoha.

And so, despite his accolades, despite his achievents, Asuma left the village five years after the Kyūbi attack. The reason? A petty argunt. His father had chosen his older brother to be the head of the Sarutobi clan. That decision, that one slight, had been the final straw in a string of frustrations. Without so much as a backward glance, Asuma stord out of Konoha to join the Twelve Guardian Ninja, the elite bodyguards of the Fire Daimyō.

Life outside the village had brought him fa and hardship in equal asure. It was thrilling. Grueling. Dangerous. He was recognized, feared, respected. His bounty on the black market soared to thirty-five million ryō—a price tag he considered a badge of honor.

But the glory ca at a cost.

When ten of the Twelve Guardians were killed in a single assassination attempt, Asuma was left standing amidst the aftermath, wondering what the hell he was doing.

When the ti ca to select the new leader of the Guardians, he was the obvious choice.

But he turned it down.

What good was all the fa, all the danger, all the riches, if he couldn't enjoy any of it?

And so, after years away, he returned to Konoha.

Coming back wasn't what Asuma had imagined. He expected warmth, camaraderie, maybe a drink or two with old friends. Instead, he got the cold shoulder. Shinobi whispered behind his back. Others avoided him altogether.

Why wouldn't they? He had left without a word, abandoning his responsibilities, his family, his friends. The world hadn't stopped turning just because Asuma needed to find himself.

The first eting with his father had been the worst.

Hiruzen greeted him stiffly in the Hokage's office, his expression unreadable beneath the lines of age. Asuma shifted awkwardly on his feet, suddenly feeling like a boy again.

"I see you've bought your own apartnt," his father said finally, his tone neutral.

Asuma scratched the back of his head. "Yeah… I didn't want to, uh, burden the clan's staff."

"Whatever you say, Asuma."

The words stung.

Years ago, Hiruzen had been so overprotective after Asuma's mother died during the Kyūbi attack that he wouldn't even let his sons move out of the compound. That suffocating care had been one of the many reasons for their falling out. Yet now, the Third Hokage was suddenly indifferent.

The conversation ended with Hiruzen extending an invitation.

"Are you free this evening? Your nephew would love to et you."

A family dinner? Asuma forced a grin. "Sorry, I can't. I've got plans tonight."

It was a lie.

There was no party, no friends waiting for him, no drinks to share.

He spent that night alone in his apartnt, staring at the ceiling as the hard truth settled over him.

Konoha had moved on.

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The months that followed were no easier.

Asuma tried to adapt to his new reality, taking on solo jōnin missions, but it all felt aningless. He was good—damn good—but what was the point of being one of Konoha's strongest if there was no one to share it with?

Desperate for connection, he reached out to his old teammates, Raido and Kurenai.

Raido was polite but distant. They had never been close, and that hadn't changed.

Kurenai, though… Kurenai was different.

She had always been different.

Asuma had nursed a quiet crush on her for years, one that had lingered even during his ti away. She was sharp, confident, and beautiful—everything he admired in a kunoichi. He had hoped, prayed, that she might not have moved on. That she might still see him as he once was.

But when he saw her again, it wasn't the reunion he had envisioned.

It happened a month later in the Hokage Tower, where Hiruzen was announcing her promotion to jōnin. She stood at the center of the room, radiant and surrounded by friends. They laughed, congratulated her, celebrated her achievent.

Asuma watched from the sidelines, his mouth dry, unable to find the words to approach her.

He left without saying a word.

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The next day, Asuma decided enough was enough.

He wasn't a ladies' man by any stretch of the imagination. Sure, his rugged looks and solid build had earned him attention during his years with the Guardians, but that was different. Those were fleeting, aningless encounters.

What he wanted now was substance—a real connection.

And he was determined to find it with Kurenai.

Asuma prepped himself like a shinobi preparing for a mission.

First, he ditched the cigarette and bought the strongest breath mints he could find. He was not about to approach Kurenai reeking of smoke.

Second, he spruced himself up. He trimd his beard, slicked back his hair, and even splashed on so cologne—not too much, just enough to leave a subtle, confident impression.

Lastly, he rehearsed what he was going to say. He didn't want to co off as desperate, but he also didn't want to be too casual. He needed the perfect balance.

With everything set, he marched into the jōnin lounge, his chest puffed out, his shoulders broad, his gait steady.

He looked like a man on a mission.

And in many ways, he was.

The lounge was mostly empty now, quiet except for the low murmur of voices and the occasional clink of glass.

Asuma approached Kurenai, his steps steady—though his heart wasn't.

"Hey, Red Eyes," he said casually. "Did you unlock your Sharingan yet?"

The sa joke. The sa line he'd used when they were fresh-faced genin so many years ago.

Kurenai looked up, startled, her crimson eyes widening slightly. "Asuma… you're back?"

The surprise in her voice stung more than Asuma cared to admit. He forced a smile, ignoring the twinge of bitterness that crept in.

Guess no one told her, he thought grimly. Of course, they didn't. I'm the outcast now, right? The guy who abandoned the village to go 'find himself.' Why would anyone bother telling her I ca back?

But he pushed those thoughts aside. "Of course, I'm back," he said. "And this ti, I'm here to stay."

"Why?"

Asuma paused, the bluntness of the question catching him off guard.

Don't tell … he thought, his stomach sinking. She's giving the cold shoulder too.

He shrugged, trying to sound casual. "Well, this is my ho, right?"

Kurenai looked away, her expression unreadable.

Asuma scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, then forced himself to push forward. "Look," he began, "let make it up to you. A drink? Maybe so food? Let's catch up. I've been dying to know why you beca a genjutsu specialist, of all things."

Kurenai hesitated, her polite smile not quite reaching her eyes. "I don't know, Asuma. I'm really busy right now, preparing for this year's genin graduation…"

Her words were polite, but the tone behind them was distant.

Asuma felt the rejection like a punch to the gut. He masked it well, though—years of dealing with nobles in the Daimyō's court had taught him how to keep his face calm, even when he felt like crumbling inside.

"Well," he said after a beat, "why don't we discuss it together? I was actually thinking about becoming a jōnin instructor myself."

That was a lie.

Asuma couldn't picture himself teaching a team of green, hyperactive genin. He was a man who loved his lazy afternoons, a simple life with the occasional mission to keep things interesting. The thought of wrangling three brats day in and day out was enough to make him want to light another cigarette right then and there.

But he couldn't say that. Not now.

Kurenai tilted her head slightly, her gaze unreadable as she studied him. "What were you saying about a drink?"

Asuma's heart jumped, but he kept his cool, only allowing the corners of his mouth to lift into a small smile.

"Let's go," he said.

The Fire Bop Club was alive with noise and energy. It was one of the most popular bars in Konoha, known for its wide selection of drinks from across the Elental Nations. Shinobi and civilians mingled, their laughter and conversations mixing with the soft hum of music in the background.

Asuma led Kurenai to a quieter corner, ordering a couple of light drinks as they began to talk. They caught up on what they had been doing over the past seven years, trading stories about missions and experiences. For a while, Asuma let himself believe that things might finally be normal again.

But halfway through the evening, so of Kurenai's friends called her over to join them at another table. She gave him an apologetic smile before leaving, disappearing into a crowd that seed to welco her like family.

Asuma stayed behind, nursing his drink. He glanced over at her occasionally, watching as her laughter lit up the room, her smile easy and genuine as she spoke with her friends.

And in that mont, it hit him.

He didn't belong here.

He had left Konoha to find himself, and now that he was back, there was no place for him. Not with his father, not with his colleagues, not even with Kurenai.

He paid the tab quietly and slipped out of the bar without saying goodbye.

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Asuma wandered through the streets of Konoha aimlessly, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. The quiet hum of the village at night was both comforting and isolating—a sharp reminder of how much he'd missed and how much had changed.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been walking when he heard a familiar voice.

"Asuma?"

He looked up and froze. Standing before him was a woman holding a bag of groceries.

"Long ti no see, huh?"

It was his sister-in-law, Sarutobi Akari.

Akari was striking in a quiet way, her features sharp but elegant. She wore a simple navy yukata, her jōnin vest folded over her arm, the sleeves of her shirt rolled up to reveal the faint scars of an experienced shinobi. Her sharp brown eyes softened slightly as she looked at him.

"Maybe it would've been sooner if you bothered to co," she said, her tone teasing but not unkind.

"I didn't know how to approach my brother after what I said," Asuma admitted. There was no point in lying—Akari was an elite jōnin, an ANBU mber no less. She'd see through him in a heartbeat.

Akari's gaze didn't waver. "Take the first step, Asuma," she said simply. "You might be surprised what happens next."

Before Asuma could respond, a loud, excited voice interrupted them.

"Mom, look what I found!"

Asuma turned to see a young boy running toward them, cradling a small, squirming cat in his arms.

"Konohamaru," Akari said with a sigh, "what did I tell you about picking up random animals?"

The boy pouted. "That I can't because they belong in the wild."

"Exactly," Akari said, taking the cat from his arms and setting it down gently. "Now, let's go ho. Dinner's waiting."

Konohamaru's face lit up. "Can I help you make the food, Mom?"

Asuma watched the scene unfold, a small smile tugging at his lips. It didn't take him long to piece it together—the boy, with his ssy hair and bright, eager eyes, could only be his nephew.

"Hello there, little guy," Asuma said, crouching slightly to et Konohamaru's gaze.

"Who are you, suspiciously bearded man?"

Asuma sweatdropped at those adjectives, taking a deep breath before exhaling. A small fla serpent ford in the air between them, curling and twisting like a living thing. It was a trick he had picked up in the Fire Daimyō's court, and it worked like a charm.

"Whoa! That's so cool!"

Akari chuckled. "Would you like to join us for dinner, Asuma?"

He hesitated for only a mont before nodding. "If you don't mind intruding."

"Of course not," Akari said, turning to Konohamaru. "What do you think, Konohamaru?"

"This dinner is gonna be aweso!" the boy exclaid, grinning from ear to ear. "We've got everyone in the family coming!"

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Dinner was nothing short of amazing. Asuma couldn't rember the last ti he'd sat at a family table like this, with the comforting clatter of dishes, the sll of ho-cooked food, and the warmth of shared company. His sister-in-law, Akari, was an exceptional cook, and her efforts hadn't gone unnoticed.

To his left, Akari was trying—unsuccessfully—to make Konohamaru eat his vegetables. The six-year-old had puffed up his cheeks in defiance, claiming he was "too full" after his third serving of rice.

Across from him, Hiruzen sat at the head of the table, unusually relaxed, a faint smile on his lips as he sipped his tea.

But it was the man seated at the other end of the table that caught Asuma's attention.

Sarutobi Hikaru.

His older brother was a man who carried himself with quiet authority. His features were sharp but refined, with the sa intelligent eyes their father had, though his gaze often held an edge of sternness. His dark brown hair was neatly tied into a short ponytail, and his beard was trimd with precision. Unlike Asuma's rugged, laid-back appearance, Hikaru had the polished look of a man who commanded respect wherever he went.

Hikaru's deanor had always been calm, asured—a man of logic and control. But as their gazes t across the table, there was a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You really are sothing else, Asuma," Hikaru said, setting down his chopsticks.

"Thanks," Asuma replied, though his voice was tinged with surprise. For years, he had assud Hikaru hated him—resented him, even—for the way he had stord out of Konoha, for the angry words they had exchanged before he left.

Back then, Asuma had shouted, accused Hikaru of stealing the title of clan head that he had deserved. He expected hostility now, not… this.

"Did hanging out with nobles make you dense or sothing? You've been running from everything your whole life."

"What's that supposed to an?"

"Oh, don't give that look," Hikaru said, firm. "You ran from ho. You ran from your responsibilities here. Then you ran from the Fire Guardians when things got tough. What's next?"

Asuma's hand curled into a fist under the table, his anger simring just below the surface. "I ca back, didn't I? Shouldn't you be glad that I'm alive?"

The tension in the room rose sharply, the air heavy with unspoken words. Asuma's chakra flared slightly, a subtle warning of the frustration building within him. Hikaru's chakra spiked in response, his own irritation evident.

Before things could escalate further, Hiruzen's presence filled the room, his chakra washing over both of them like an iron grip. The sheer weight of it forced both brothers to still, their tempers imdiately quelled.

"Enough," Hiruzen said firmly, his tone brooking no argunt. "Akari, take Konohamaru to bed."

"Yes, Father," Akari replied without hesitation.

Asuma turned to see that she had already placed Konohamaru in a light genjutsu, the boy fast asleep in her arms. She gave both brothers a sharp look before leaving the room, her presence lingering like a reprimand.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Hiruzen coughed lightly, breaking the tension. "Now then, you two. Stop acting like children and talk it out properly."

Both Asuma and Hikaru opened their mouths to protest, but Hiruzen's glare silenced them instantly. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned a small shōgi board, setting it on the table between them.

"You will play one round," Hiruzen said. "One round, and as you play, you will talk. No interruptions, no yelling. Understood?"

"You want us to settle this with shōgi?"

"Correct. Asuma will play black, so he moves first."

Asuma sighed but leaned forward, picking up his first piece. "What's your problem with ?"

Hikaru mirrored his movent, placing his own piece. "My problem is that you think you can just stroll back into Konoha and act like nothing's happened."

Asuma's jaw tightened. He moved another piece. "Don't you think I know that? Every damn day since I ca back, people have been treating like I'm a traitor. So excuse for trying to see the good side of things instead of just running away again."

Hikaru's expression didn't soften. "Then why didn't you co back sooner? Why did it take you so long to even visit your family?"

Asuma froze for a mont, his fingers hovering over the next piece. Because I didn't see the point.

"I said a lot of things before I left… and I didn't think I could take them back. I'm sorry for that."

"Doesn't matter. The past is the past." Hikaru paused, his fingers lightly tapping his piece before he moved it. "I kept up with your exploits as a Fire Guardian, you know. You had everything you wanted there—fa, money, power. So why co back?"

"Because none of it ant anything. I got older. I got closer to death. And I realized sothing: what's the point of having everything if there's no one to share it with?"

At that, the ga slowed, both brothers holding their pieces but not placing them.

"And yet you ca back to Konoha, knowing people wouldn't welco you. Knowing how they'd see you. Why?"

Asuma gave him a lopsided smile, lighting a cigarette as he spoke. "What, were you hoping I'd just stay gone?"

"You idiot," Hikaru said. "I'm worried about you. Konoha is built on the Will of Fire—on loyalty, on honoring it. You dishonored that by leaving. People won't forgive you easily."

Asuma exhaled a stream of smoke, his grin widening. "Good. That just ans I've got a new hurdle to overco."

"Well said, Asuma. I know you're strong enough to handle it."

Hikaru shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "So, what's next? What's your plan now?"

"I'm thinking about becoming a jōnin instructor."

For the first ti that night, Hikaru laughed, shaking his head. "You? A teacher? Those kids don't know what they're in for."

"We'll see," Asuma said with a smirk. "I might surprise you."

And for the first ti in years, the Sarutobi brothers shared a mont of understanding.

A few months after settling back in Konoha, life had started to feel… lighter for Asuma. He made a point of visiting his family on weekends, often babysitting Konohamaru when Akari and Hikaru were busy with clan duties or ANBU missions. The little brat had grown on him fast, especially with his endless energy and unfiltered honesty. It was nice—really nice—to feel like he was a part of the Sarutobi household again.

anwhile, his reputation in the village had begun to recover. Successful missions stacked up under his belt, and slowly but surely, people were beginning to look at him with less suspicion.

But there was one problem he hadn't quite solved yet: Kurenai.

To catch Kurenai's attention, Asuma finally committed to the idea of becoming a jōnin instructor. And luck, it seed, was on his side—he was assigned the Ino-Shika-Chō trio of the current generation.

Three clan heirs. Three shinobi who had been raised since birth to work as a team. Three kids whose families had likely prepped them so thoroughly that Asuma could afford to take it easy as their instructor.

An easy life as a jōnin instructor. That was the plan.

Of course, he quickly learned that while Shikamaru was the laziest brat he'd ever t and Chōji was sweet and harmless, Ino was… spirited, to put it mildly. Managing her relentless energy and constant nitpicking of her teammates wasn't as easy as he'd hoped. Still, the trio grew on him. He found himself genuinely enjoying their sessions, even if he wouldn't admit it outright.

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A few days after the academy's graduation exams, Asuma found himself walking back to his apartnt after another mind-numbing D-rank mission. Escorting an old man with a cart of cabbages hadn't exactly been thrilling, but he wasn't in the mood for anything too taxing today.

The evening was quiet, the streets painted in warm orange hues as the sun dipped below the horizon. He was halfway to his place when sothing—or rather, soone—caught his eye.

Kakashi Hatake was leaning against the railing of a nearby staircase, engrossed in his infamous orange book. Asuma did a double take. It wasn't every day you casually ran into one of Konoha's strongest shinobi.

"Good to see you again, Kakashi."

Kakashi didn't look up from his book. Instead, he gave a slight nod, his eye crinkling in what could have been a smile.

"Want to co in?"

"Well," Kakashi drawled, finally closing his book with a snap, "I do have sothing we could discuss over sothing to drink."

"Co on, then. I've got so coffee the Fire Daimyō gave ."

"Didn't know you liked coffee."

"I don't," Asuma replied. "But when the Fire Daimyō gives you a gift, you take it. No questions asked."

Asuma's apartnt was simple yet comfortable, reflecting the quiet, no-frills lifestyle he had adopted since his return. Traditional tatami mats covered the floors, and the furniture was minimal—a low wooden table with cushions for seating, a few shelves lined with books and small trinkets from his travels, and a kotatsu in the corner for colder nights. The walls were adorned with subtle touches of Sarutobi clan heritage: a frad calligraphy scroll bearing the kanji for Will of Fire and a few weapons hung neatly on display.

Asuma set about preparing the coffee, the rich aroma filling the air as Kakashi took a seat on one of the cushions.

"So," Kakashi began, "how's life as a jōnin instructor treating you?"

"Easier than I thought," Asuma replied, pouring the coffee into two cups. "What about you? I heard you finally passed a team."

"They're doing well. I think they're shaping up to be a great team."

Asuma handed Kakashi a cup. "Not that I mind you dropping by, but you and I were never exactly close. So, what's this about?"

Kakashi let out a mock sigh, slumping back dramatically. "I thought we were as close as two peas in a pod."

"Right," Asuma deadpanned. "You're really selling it with that smut book of yours."

Kakashi chuckled, clearly having fun. "Fine, fine. You caught . I need a favor."

"What kind of favor?"

"I want you to train my student in Wind Style."

"You want to train one of your brats in elental manipulation? Why? You've got more jutsu in your arsenal than anyone I know."

"Wind Style isn't the issue that I'm facing. It's sothing more unique—sothing your team can help with."

"My team?"

Kakashi nodded. "The student I'm talking about is Naruto Uzumaki."

That gave Asuma pause. The na hit him like a stone dropping into a still pond, the ripples of understanding spreading quickly.

"…Oh," he murmured after a mont, the pieces clicking together in his mind. "This is about building trust, isn't it? You want the Jinchūriki to have more friends in Konoha."

Tenten. That's why Kakashi involved her in Naruto's kenjutsu training.

He could've taught Naruto himself. The basics of kenjutsu, wind-style techniques—none of it would have been difficult for him to pass on. But that wasn't the priority. Not now.

This ca directly from the Hokage. Naruto is losing faith.

The words rang in his mind, heavy with an urgency he couldn't ignore. Naruto, the loud, stubborn boy who once declared to the world that he'd be Hokage, was losing that fire. His ambition, his dreams—they were fading.

The Will of Fire, the very thing that held this village together, no longer resonated with him.

And that was dangerous.

If Naruto didn't feel tied to Konoha—if he didn't have genuine bonds of friendship, of loyalty—the consequences were unthinkable. He wouldn't just be another lost child. He was Konoha's Jinchūriki. He carried an untapped power that no one fully understood, and if he ever turned against the village…

Kakashi clenched his jaw. I won't let that happen.

He wouldn't fail him. He wouldn't fail Minato-sensei or Kushina-san. If he ever t them in the afterlife, he wanted to be able to look them in the eyes and tell them their son had people who stood by him—not because they were told to, but because they wanted to.

That's why he chose Tenten.

Yūgao would have been an excellent instructor. A skilled kenjutsu master, experienced and disciplined. But that wasn't what Naruto needed. He didn't need another teacher keeping him at arm's length, another shinobi fulfilling a duty.

He needed real allies. People his own age. People who would fight with him, laugh with him, challenge him, and trust him.

Pretending wasn't enough.

Kakashi knew better than anyone how much genuine bonds mattered. He knew what it ant to lose them. He wouldn't let Naruto walk that sa path.

He exhaled softly, his resolve hardening.

He would make sure Naruto had those bonds. No matter what it takes.

Asuma let out a long sigh, leaning back against the wall as he mulled over the situation. "I don't know…" he admitted finally. "Maybe we should start with sothing simpler, like joint training exercises between our teams. That way, he gets the interaction without too much pressure."

"That's not a bad idea," Kakashi acknowledged. "But that's just the other extre—too much social pressure too quickly. Inoichi suggested that we ease him into the social environnt. Give him ti to gain allies naturally, without forcing it."

The words clicked in Asuma's mind imdiately. Inoichi? A social environnt? That combination of words alone told him just how delicate the situation was.

"What is this really about, Kakashi?" Asuma asked. "Is the Jinchūriki compromised?"

Kakashi's expression didn't change, but the weight of his words hung heavy in the air. "We have evidence to believe so. Will you do it?"

Asuma sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I was hoping for an easy jōnin instructor life."

"Don't worry. I'm passing on the headache that is Naruto Uzumaki to you."

Asuma exhaled heavily, glancing down at his cup of coffee. He swirled the dark liquid thoughtfully before taking another sip. It was rich, bold, and unexpectedly good. Maybe he should start drinking more coffee. He had a feeling he was going to need it.

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[ Personal Note: First off, thanks a ton to all of you for sticking with this story. Seriously, you guys are aweso. Now, if you're interested in supporting on P@treon, let 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 35, 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 comnt! Honestly, your comnts make my day, and they let 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!