Naruto: The Viking Thorfin Becomes a Inuzuka In The World of Shinobi

The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and the distant stench of smoke. The border between Amegakure and Iwagakure was a wasteland of war and paranoia, the perfect setting for the deception that Root was about to enact. Thorfin adjusted the foreign headband tied around his forehead, the rough fabric pressing against his skin as an ever-present reminder of the role he was forced to play tonight.

Danzo had laid out the mission with chilling simplicity. Peace between Konoha and Iwa was unacceptable in his eyes. Root's duty was to destabilize that fragile truce before it could take hold. The method? Infiltration and destruction. Their squad, dressed as Iwa shinobi, would attack the villages bordering Amegakure, leaving behind just enough survivors to spread the story of an Iwa-led assault. When the dust settled, the political fallout would steer negotiations toward collapse.

Forcing Konoha to intervene to protect the fragile peace.

Thorfin stood in the shadows of the dense underbrush, Taro crouched beside him. The rest of their squad moved like ghosts in the night, each step calculated and precise. The target was a small village nestled at the river's bend—too small to mount a defense but large enough for its destruction to send ripples through the region.

A silent signal from their squad leader sent them forward. Thorfin's grip tightened around the standard-issue kunai he had been given.

Because tonight would be their first kill

The first phase was infiltration. Root agents had already spread out along the perimeter, waiting for the right moment to strike. Thorfin raised two fingers in a silent signal.

Move.

He dropped from the trees, landing without a sound. Taro followed, his movements softer, more cautious.

Their first targets were the sentries—two men standing at the village entrance, spears in hand, their post little more than a formality. They weren't trained for real battle.

Thorfin was on the first man before he could react. His blade slid between the man's ribs, muffling any cry that might have escaped. He felt the body stiffen, then go limp. Taro mirrored his actions on the second sentry, though with less precision, taking a heartbeat longer.

They lowered the bodies quietly, arranging them as if they had fallen in combat.

The group approached the next target, a small settlement. No walls, no guards, just farmers and merchants closing their stalls for the night. Thorfin scanned the area, noting weak points, possible escape routes. Taro stood beside him, hands tight around his weapon.

The other Root operatives moved into position, setting fire to key buildings—homes, food stores, supply caches. The crackle of flames soon filled the air, followed by the first panicked screams.

The first strike was swift. Explosive tags set against metal homes erupted in controlled detonations. Thorfin moved through the chaos, his blade catching the light as he struck down a panicked villager who had stumbled too close. There was no room for mercy. Mercy had been trained out of them.

Taro was at his side, his breathing steady but his hands trembling as he forced himself to act. The mission demanded it.

As the village burned, Thorfin felt the eyes of the night watching. Somewhere beyond the firelight, he knew, their instructors were observing, measuring their worth. Failure was not an option. Hesitation meant death—not at the hands of the enemy, but at the hands of Root itself.

Chaos erupted. Flames spread. Villagers ran, confusion turning to terror. Thorfin moved fast, cutting down anyone in his path. Taro hesitated. A woman clutched her child, eyes locked with his.

"Keep moving," Thorfin muttered, yanking him forward.

They had a role to play, and hesitation had no place in Root.

Thorfin moved through the village like a wraith, cutting down anyone who tried to run. A farmer with a rusted dagger, a woman clutching a makeshift club—none of them were warriors, but that wasn't the point.

He felt Taro hesitate at his side as a young boy stumbled out of a burning house, wide eyes reflecting the flames. The child couldn't have been older than seven.

Taro's grip on his kunai tightened.

Thorfin didn't hesitate. A swift flick of his wrist, and the boy collapsed.

He turned to Taro, voice low, firm. "There is no room for weakness."

Taro swallowed but nodded.

The mission had to be completed.

Above them, the flames raged on. The village was dying, and by dawn, the blame would fall squarely on Iwagakure's shoulders.

They disappeared into the shadows, leaving only death behind.

2 Days Later

Konoha Council Room

The air in the Hokage's office was thick with tension. Dim candlelight flickered against the wooden walls as the Konoha Council sat in a semicircle around Hiruzen Sarutobi. In front of them, a sealed letter lay on the table—the official message from Hanzo of the Salamander. 

Hiruzen's expression was unreadable as he exhaled through his pipe, the embers glowing faintly. He had read the letter twice, yet the weight of its implications still hung over him like a storm cloud. 

"The situation is delicate," he began, his voice heavy with thought. "Hanzo claims that Iwa shinobi were seen attacking villages near the border of Amegakure. He demands a response, believing Onoki is attempting to disrupt the peace negotiations." 

Koharu Utatane adjusted her robes, her sharp gaze shifting between the gathered council members. "And what does Onoki say?" 

Hiruzen tapped the letter with his finger. "He denies any involvement. Claims that Hanzo is merely looking for an excuse to withdraw from negotiations and maintain his isolation. That this is some ploy to keep both Konoha and Iwa at bay." 

Homura Mitokado leaned forward, arms crossed. "So either Onoki is lying, or Hanzo is trying to manipulate us. The question is… which one?" 

At that, Danzo Shimura let out a low chuckle, his singular eye gleaming in the dim light. "Does it matter? This is an opportunity." 

Hiruzen turned his gaze toward him, already anticipating what would come next. 

Danzo continued, his tone measured but firm. "Hanzo controls Amegakure, a territory between Konoha and Iwa. If we push him to act against Iwagakure, we could use him as a pawn to weaken Onoki. Amegakure could become our vassal state—a puppet ally under our influence." 

Koharu frowned. "You're suggesting we escalate the conflict?" 

Danzo's expression remained impassive. "Iwagakure is weak after the last war, their forces stretched thin. If we play this correctly, we could eliminate them as a threat permanently. Hanzo has proven himself strong enough to hold his borders, even forcing Konoha and Iwa to respect his neutrality after the last war. But alone, he cannot stand against either of us. If we offer him support, he will have no choice but to align with us." 

Hiruzen took another slow drag from his pipe, exhaling a stream of smoke before fixing Danzo with a piercing gaze. "And what happens when Amegakure realizes it has traded one leash for another? Do you truly believe Hanzo will willingly submit to Konoha?" 

Danzo's lips pressed into a thin line. "He will, if we ensure that he has no other options." 

Homura let out a slow breath. "The war only ended a few years ago. We can't afford to rush into another one without careful consideration." 

Koharu nodded in agreement. "If we provoke Iwa openly, we risk forcing Kumo or even Kiri into an alliance against us. And even if we use Hanzo, it's not guaranteed he will remain loyal." 

Hiruzen leaned back, watching Danzo carefully. "You assume too much. Onoki may be stubborn, but he is not a fool. He knows Hanzo's strength. He would not risk war with him so recklessly." His fingers tapped lightly against the desk. "Which means there is another possibility." 

The room fell silent. 

"Someone wanted this attack to happen," Hiruzen said, his voice quieter but carrying undeniable weight. "Whether it was to provoke Iwa, undermine the peace talks, or manipulate Amegakure into war, this was a deliberate act." His eyes flickered toward Danzo, his tone sharpening. "And we must be cautious not to play into the hands of those who seek chaos." 

Danzo's face remained impassive. "You are too cautious, Hiruzen. Caution will not secure Konoha's future—only decisive action will." 

Hiruzen shook his head. "Decisive action is not the same as reckless ambition. Konoha will not ignite a war that could cost us more than we gain." He glanced at Homura and Koharu. "For now, we will not provoke Iwa further. I will send an envoy to Hanzo to reaffirm our commitment to peace and to investigate the attack further. We will let him believe we are on his side, but we will not make a move until we know the truth." 

Danzo's fingers tightened around his cane, but he said nothing. 

The meeting was over. But in the shadows, the game had only just begun. 

Back in the Barracks

The underground halls of Root were dimly lit, the air thick with silence. The walls, smooth and unyielding, bore no banners, no symbols—nothing to signify identity or pride. Only the faint scent of damp stone and iron lingered.

Thorfin and Taro stood among their returning squad, their bodies stained with the grime of battle, their hands still bearing traces of blood—dried, flaking, but still there. The mission was over. The villages were gone. The screams had long since faded, replaced by the quiet hum of flickering lanterns in the depths of Root's compound.

Across from them, the instructors stood in formation. Their eyes, devoid of warmth, studied the children as if they were mere tools, assessing their efficiency.

"You have completed your mission," one instructor stated, his voice empty of praise or condemnation. "You have upheld the will of Root."

The children remained still, their faces blank, their postures rigid.

"There is no victory. There is no pride. There is only necessity," another instructor continued. "You will not dwell on what you have done. The weak perish, the strong endure. That is the natural order. You are the foundation upon which Konoha's stability is built. Your emotions are irrelevant. Your pain is meaningless. You exist to serve."

Thorfin's hands curled into fists at his sides, but his expression remained still—just as he had learned. This was how Root worked. They did not praise, they did not comfort. They only reinforced the doctrine that had been drilled into them from the start.

"Go. Prepare for your next assignment," the final instructor commanded before turning on his heel and vanishing into the darkness.

The squad dispersed, each child walking away in silence, their footsteps echoing through the hollow corridors.

In their shared room, Thorfin sat on the edge of his cot, staring at the cold stone floor. His body ached, but he felt… nothing. The scent of burning wood and blood still clung to him, a phantom of the village they had left in ruins.

Across from him, Taro sat hunched over, his arms wrapped around his knees. He hadn't spoken since they returned—until now.

"Thorfin…" Taro's voice was quiet, hesitant. "How do you feel?"

Thorfin didn't answer immediately. He could hear the tremor in Taro's voice, the unspoken weight behind the words.

Taro swallowed hard, his fingers gripping his arms. "We killed them all. Not just the shinobi. The civilians. The children. We didn't even hesitate." His voice cracked, but he quickly steadied himself. "Doesn't that… doesn't that mean anything to you?"

Thorfin finally looked up, his golden eyes dull, unreadable.

"They were weak," he said simply. "We were ordered to do it. So we did it."

Taro shook his head. "But does that make it right?" His voice rose, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "They weren't a threat. They couldn't fight back. And yet, we—"

"You're asking the wrong questions," Thorfin interrupted, his tone eerily calm. "There is no 'right' or 'wrong' in Root. There is only what is necessary to survive."

Taro flinched. "But—"

"You're thinking like a person," Thorfin continued, standing up. "But we are not people anymore. We are weapons. Tools. We kill because that is what we were made to do. You either accept that… or you die."

Taro's breathing was uneven, his fists clenching against his knees. "You don't believe that," he whispered. "You hesitate. I saw it during the mission."

For a brief moment, Thorfin's mind flickered—memories of something distant, something before this life. A home far in the north, a father who had once spoken of peace.

But it was gone just as quickly as it came.

His face remained cold. "I hesitated because I was weak. I won't make that mistake again."

Taro stared at him, searching his face for something—anything. Some sign of doubt, some flicker of humanity left inside his friend.

But all he found was emptiness.

The boy who had once laughed, who had once held onto something beyond Root, was fading.

Taro lowered his head, his voice barely above a whisper. "We were supposed to be human."

Thorfin turned away. "Not anymore."

Silence settled between them, heavier than before. The only sound was the distant drip of water in the depths of Root's underground halls.

Thorfin lay down on his cot, staring at the ceiling. The cold night crept into his bones, but he did not shiver.

He had made his choice.

He would live. No matter what it took.