Naruto: The Art of Deception

"A-Arashi…!" she moaned, voice trembling, raw with pleasure as she pushed back against him, her ass bouncing with every rough thrust.

Naruto—Arashi—kept his pace brutal, slamming into her, feeling the way her soaked pussy clenched around his cock. The wet slap of skin filled the dimly lit room, his heavy balls smacking against her with every deep stroke. She was so lost in it, so desperate, moaning his name like she actually loved him.

Pathetic.

Naruto's face was blank, his grip on her hips firm but mechanical. His mind wasn't on the way she felt around him, or the way her body trembled when he buried himself balls-deep. No—he was thinking about the mission.

She had finally slipped up last night, let her guard down just enough to confirm what Jiraiya suspected. The details of the assassination plot, the key players—she gave him everything, spilling it between giggles and kisses, thinking she had him wrapped around her little finger.

And now, he was making sure she never suspected a thing.

"You love this, don't you?" he murmured against her ear, his voice dripping with heat, even if he didn't feel a damn thing. He tightened his grip in her hair, pulling her head back so he could watch the way her mouth parted, gasping for air. "Taking me so fucking good, baby. You were made for this cock, huh?"

"Y-yeah—!" she whined, a complete mess beneath him, her nails clawing at the sheets. "God, yes—Arashi, I'm so close, please—!"

He almost smirked. Of course, she was.

She thought this meant something.

He adjusted his grip, his thumb pressing against her throat, applying just enough pressure to make her eyes roll back as he drove into her harder, his hips snapping against her soaked cunt. "Gonna cum all over my cock, huh? You're squeezing me so tight, baby. Fuck—such a needy little thing."

She sobbed out his name, her body trembling, her pussy clamping down around him, milking him like she never wanted to let go.

She had no idea he was already gone.

By morning, she'd be weak, barely able to move. And by the time she figured out what happened—

She'd be dead.

And Konoha would be safe.

But first—he still had to make her come.

His hand slipped down between her legs, fingers finding her swollen clit, rubbing tight, teasing circles against the sensitive nub.

She screamed, her body jerking, her walls tightening around him as she came, hard.

"There you go…" he purred, fucking her through it, dragging out every last tremor of pleasure as she collapsed against the sheets, shaking. "That's my girl. Cum for me, just like that."

Her cunt squeezed him like a vice, and he let himself go, burying himself deep, groaning against her ear as he spilled inside her, filling her up completely.

It didn't matter. She wouldn't be alive long enough to regret it.

She sighed, stretching like a lazy cat, completely spent, her bare body glowing with post-orgasmic satisfaction. She draped herself over him, her soft breasts pressing against his chest as she nuzzled his neck.

"Mmm… I'm gonna miss that cock," she purred, her fingers lazily tracing the muscles on his stomach.

Naruto—Arashi—chuckled, rolling onto his side, one arm thrown around her waist like he actually wanted to stay. "Yeah?" he murmured, keeping his voice warm, teasing. "Could've fooled me with how much you were screaming just now."*

She giggled, shifting lower, her hand sliding down to his softening cock. "That's because you fuck me like a goddamn animal," she breathed, her fingers wrapping around him, stroking him lazily. "So strong, so relentless… Makes me wonder how Konoha ever let you go."

Naruto smirked. "Maybe they didn't deserve me."

"No, they fucking didn't." Her voice hardened, that lingering hatred creeping in. She trailed her lips lower, her breath warm as she kissed the base of his shaft, her tongue flicking against his balls, making them slick as she licked him slowly.

Naruto kept his expression relaxed, but he wasn't focused on the way she was dragging her tongue over him, sucking one of his balls into her mouth, humming as she played with them.

No. He was watching her.

She pulled back, grinning. "Konoha thinks they can do whatever they want, take what they want, crush whoever they want. But they'll learn."

He hummed, pretending to be engrossed in the way she touched him. "Sounds personal."

"Of course it's personal."* Her grip on him tightened slightly, her nails raking down his length. "That bitch Tsunade sits up there, playing the benevolent ruler while she lets the rest of us rot. My village suffered because of her. Because of Konoha. She doesn't deserve to rule."

With a smirk, he reached for the wine bottle, pouring them both a glass. "Well, I guess we should celebrate," he murmured, handing her one. "Drink up, babe. We should toast properly."

She laughed, clinking her glass against his. "To freedom."

And then she drank.

Naruto watched her closely, his own glass untouched. The way her throat moved as she swallowed, the way she licked a drop from her lips, completely unaware of what she had just done.

The poison would take three minutes.

At first, she didn't notice. She hummed, twirling her empty glass between her fingers, still smiling, still stroking his cock absentmindedly.

Then—

Her fingers twitched. Her breath hitched.

And then she stilled.

Her eyes flicked up to his, confused. "I…" Her voice faltered, her chest rising and falling unevenly.

And Naruto let her see it.

That slow, fading warmth in his gaze. The twinkle in his eyes dimming into something cold, something empty.

Her smile disappeared. "A-Arashi…?"

He tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "Shh…" he murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Just let it happen."*

She tried to speak, but her throat was locking up. Her breaths grew shallower, her body seizing as paralysis set in.

"W-why…?" she rasped, her lips parting. "I thought you…"

She never finished.

She stopped breathing.

Her body slumped against him, lifeless.

Naruto sat there for a moment, his hand still resting against her cheek, as if she were still alive.

Then, slowly—his smile faded.

Gone was the teasing lover. Gone was Arashi.

His eyes were cold, detached, blank.

He slipped out of the bed, dressing with practiced efficiency, not sparing her body another glance.

The night was cool and quiet, the forest stretching endlessly before him. Naruto moved without a sound, slipping through the branches like a shadow. Step, flicker, land. Every motion precise, controlled, automatic.

The moonlight barely touched the forest floor through the thick canopy, but that didn't slow him down. He didn't need to see to know the terrain. His body knew the rhythm—how much force to use, where to step, how to move through the wild without disturbing so much as a leaf.

His breathing was steady. His muscles ached in that familiar, satisfying way. Three weeks in disguise, playing the long game, keeping his reflexes coiled beneath layers of fake charm and easy smiles. It felt good to move like himself again.

No more slow, calculated movements.

No more lying.

No more Arashi.

A skin he wore for three weeks. And now, like a snake, he was shedding it.

He adjusted his course, keeping himself upwind, unpredictable, invisible. Not that anyone was tracking him.

Still.

Complacency got people killed.

His ears picked up the sounds of the forest around him—the distant hoot of an owl, the rustling of something small moving through the underbrush, the faint trickle of water nearby. No signs of pursuit. No flickers of foreign chakra in range. Still, he stayed alert.

Erasing a life didn't end when the body dropped. It ended when every trace of the act was gone.

The small wooden shelter was exactly as he left it. One room. No windows. Just a functional, temporary space.

Naruto landed lightly on the roof, pausing for half a second before dropping to the ground, moving toward the entrance. Still empty. Good.

The lantern inside flickered as he stepped in, throwing just enough light to illuminate the scrolls laid out on the wooden table, the neatly arranged supplies, the bedroll he had barely used.

Three weeks of intelligence work.

He moved to the table, hands quick and efficient as he gathered the scrolls he needed. Names, locations, coded messages. Everything he had pulled from Rika and her people. All of it methodically recorded.

The rest?

He grabbed a handful of discarded notes—maps he no longer needed, minor reports, anything that could even remotely connect back to him—and fed them to the fire.

The paper curled, blackening at the edges before turning to ash.

He kept moving, stripping off the last remnants of Arashi. The tunic, the loose pants, the clothes that had made him look like a wandering mercenary with no ties, no past, no purpose.

They, too, went into the flames.

Arashi was dead.

Naruto pulled on his real gear—the clothes that fit like a second skin. Dark, tactical, near-ANBU in style. Sleeveless combat top, gloves snug around his fingers, reinforced shin guards. No excess weight. No unnecessary fabric. Everything designed for efficiency.

He reached for his katana, securing it across his back.

And finally—the mask.

He held it for a moment, staring at his reflection in the cracked mirror near the table. This was the real him.

Arashi had warmth. Arashi had an easy smirk. Arashi pretended to care.

Naruto didn't.

He pulled the mask over his face, and just like that, the final piece of the mission fell away.

No more deception. No more fake names.

Only the shinobi remained.

He turned back toward the dying fire, watching the last remnants of paper crumble into ash. Then, without hesitation, he pulled a scroll from his pouch, unrolling it with a flick of his wrist.

One seal. One spark of chakra.

The first explosive tag ignited near the table. The second followed, catching the edges of the bedroll, the beams of the roof.

By the time Naruto stepped outside, the safe house was an inferno.

He didn't watch it burn. He didn't need to.

One final breath. Inhale. Exhale.

Then—he was gone.

He barely felt the burn in his legs as he pushed forward, springing off a narrow ledge, twisting mid-air before landing perfectly on another rock, barely big enough to hold him.

The wind howled through the peaks, cold, biting, pulling at his cloak. He barely noticed.

Three days of this. Three days of constant movement. No stops. No wasted time. He didn't need much sleep, not when his body had been running on instinct for weeks. He could rest when he got there.

Jiraiya's camp wasn't far now.

Nestled deep in the mountains, hidden behind a roaring waterfall, far from any roads, any villages. No one would find it. No one should find it.

Which was why Jiraiya had layered the entire place in sealing traps.

And Naruto was about to trip every single one of them.

The air changed as he approached—just slightly, barely noticeable, but Naruto had learned to recognize the shift in chakra.

Jiraiya's barrier.

A subtle sealing formation, wrapped around the territory in invisible layers. Not a physical wall, but a sensory tripwire.

If he broke through without dispelling it, Jiraiya would be alerted immediately.

They had been playing this game since they started traveling together. Naruto always tried to get through unnoticed. He never succeeded.

But that didn't mean he stopped trying.

He crouched low, pressing his fingers against the nearest boulder, closing his eyes.

There.

He could feel the flow of chakra woven into the stone, layered deep into the natural energy of the mountain itself. *The sealwork was complex—*Jiraiya's style, without a doubt.

He exhaled slowly. Time to break it.

His fingers flicked through a rapid sequence of seals, his own chakra surging forward, pressing against the barrier—testing for weak points, trying to slip through the gaps.

The seal pulsed in response, shifting, flexing like a living thing.

Naruto gritted his teeth, forcing his chakra into the formation, trying to override the alert system—

And then the whole thing flared to life.

The reaction was immediate. A ripple of chakra shot through the rocks, flashing like an invisible pulse, disappearing into the distance—straight to Jiraiya.

Shit.

Naruto exhaled sharply, standing up. Another failure.

He barely had time to process it before he felt another shift in the air—this one heavier, familiar.

Jiraiya was already waiting.

Naruto stepped through the entrance, boots kicking up dust against the wooden floor.

Jiraiya was inside, sitting cross-legged on the floor, a small fire crackling between them. He had a pot balanced over the flames, some kind of stew bubbling inside. He barely looked up as Naruto entered.

Only his eyes moved—sharp, assessing.

He took in Naruto's stance, the way he carried himself, the way his chakra felt.

And then, after a long pause—

"Is she dead?"

Naruto nodded once. "Yes."

Jiraiya's lips curled slightly, satisfied. "Good."

He gestured vaguely to the fire. "Eat, then rest. You look like hell, kid."

Naruto didn't argue. He walked across the room, lowering himself onto the wooden floor near the fire.

And finally—he let the illusion drop.

The Henge melted away in slow waves, peeling back the fake skin, revealing the real him.

Blonde hair.

Blue eyes.

Whisker marks.

Naruto sat cross-legged on the floor, empty bowl resting beside him. Jiraiya stretched his legs out, arms folded behind his head.

"You were sloppy with the seal."

He didnt look up.

Jiraiya sighed, shaking his head. "Didn't even slow the alert. Figured you'd have cracked it by now."

Naruto reached for the kettle, poured himself another cup of tea. "Figured you'd have made it easier by now."

Jiraiya snorted. "You'd like that, huh?"

Naruto didn't answer, just took a slow sip.

Jiraiya let the silence stretch, then leaned forward, tossing a small piece of wood into the fire. The flames flared briefly before settling. "Three years." His voice was calm, even. "Doesn't feel that long."

Naruto set his cup down. "Feels like forever."

Jiraiya studied him for a moment. Then, with a smirk, "Still impatient."

Naruto didn't react.

Three years ago, he might have.

Jiraiya exhaled, slow and thoughtful, watching Naruto the way he always did after a mission.

Finally, he asked, "You ready?"

Naruto ran a thumb over the rim of his cup, considering the question.

Konoha. The village. The people. The faces that would look at him and not recognize what was standing in front of them.

"Does it matter?"

Jiraiya smirked. "Nope."

Naruto exhaled through his nose, leaned back against the wall. "Then yeah. I'm ready."

"Tomorrow, we rest." Jiraiya lifted his cup slightly, as if in a toast. "And the day after that, we go home."