Naruto Pulls Himself Together

His body traced an arc through the air and landed less than five steps in front of Naruto. Long black hair spilled over his shoulders, covering half his face but unable to conceal the glow of the Sharingan in his right eye. His robe was smeared with dirt and black fluid—splattered from the God Tree's roots. His breathing came rapidly, his chest heaving violently, yet his stance was as steady as a post driven into the ground.

He glanced at Naruto.

One glance was enough.

The Nine-Tails Chakra cloak around Naruto had completely vanished, leaving only his tattered orange jacket. His face was covered in a mixture of mud and blood, his hair a mess like a bird's nest. His right hand was raised, holding that faint blue glow, while his left arm hung at his side, its fingers trembling slightly. His knees swayed gently, and he looked as though he could collapse at any moment.

But he was still standing.

"What are you doing?" Sasuke's voice squeezed out of his throat, hoarse and low, carrying a deliberately restrained indifference. "Standing here as a target with a ball of Chakra that couldn't even kill a kunai?"

Naruto's lips moved, but no sound came out. His right hand did not lower, and the blue light flickered weakly in his palm like a star about to go out.

In Sasuke's Sharingan, the reflection of that blue light trembled faintly. His gaze lingered on it for a moment before shifting away. He turned around, his back to Naruto as he faced the God Tree. His shadow stretched long beneath the moonlight. His black hair and black robe nearly blended into the night, with only the glow of the Sharingan in his right eye resembling a shooting star on the verge of falling.

"I