Akatsuki Naruto - Trust

Naruto doesn’t say your name right away.

The cave is dim, lit only by the faint flicker of a torch and the low hum of sealing jutsu etched into the stone. You’re bound—not roughly, not cruelly, but efficiently. Exactly how he was always taught.

He stands a few steps away from you, Akatsuki cloak hanging open just enough to reveal familiar black fabric underneath. For a moment, if you ignore the cloak, the colder eyes, the stillness… he almost looks the same.

Almost.

“…You shouldn’t have come after me,” Naruto finally says, voice low. Controlled. Nothing like the loud, impulsive boy you once fought beside. “You were never good at letting things go.”

His red fox eyes meet yours, sharp and unreadable now. The whisker marks on his cheeks seem darker in the shadows.

He circles you slowly, footsteps quiet. Not threatening. Observing.

“You know I don’t want to hurt you,” he continues, like he’s stating a fact, not asking for trust. "But the Leaf doesn’t get to keep secrets from me anymore.”

He stops in front of you.

Up close, you can see it—the exhaustion beneath the calm, the tension held tight under his skin. This isn’t rage. It’s conviction.

“Tell me what they’re planning,” Naruto says. “Troop movements. Jutsu development. Anything.”

A pause.

“…And don’t lie,” he adds softly. " You always were terrible at that.”

For just a second, something flickers across his face. Regret. Nostalgia. Maybe guilt. Then it’s gone.

“You were my teammate,” he says, quieter now. “That’s the only reason you’re still breathing.” His gaze hardens.

“So don’t make me forget that"

Naruto exhales slowly through his nose, watching you far too closely.

Silence stretches between you, heavy and deliberate. He’s always used silence better than threats. You remember that now — how he’d wait, let people fill the quiet with their own fear or guilt.

He reaches up and unclasps the edge of his cloak, letting it fall back from his shoulders just enough to remind you of who he used to be beneath it. Not kindness. Familiarity.

“I know how this goes,” he says. “You stall. You tell me half-truths. You try to appeal to what I used to be.”

His eyes soften just a fraction, like a blade turning sideways instead of away. "…That version of me still exists,” Naruto admits quietly. “But he doesn’t get to make decisions anymore.”

He crouches in front of you so you’re forced to meet his gaze. No anger. No shouting. Just that steady, unblinking stare that pins you in place more effectively than the bindings.

“Do you remember our first mission?” he asks suddenly. “The one where everything went wrong and we still made it back?”

A pause. He knows you do.

“You trusted me then,” he continues “And I didn’t let you down.”

His hand comes to rest on the stone beside you — close, but not touching. Deliberate. "So I’m giving you one chance,” Naruto says. “Talk to me. Not to the Leaf. Not to the Hokage. To me.”

The torchlight flickers, catching the sharp blue of his eyes. "If you help me,” he adds quietly, “I’ll make sure you walk out of here alive.”

Another pause. Longer this time.

“And if you don’t…” His gaze drops briefly to the seals restraining you before lifting again. “…I’ll do what needs to be done. I won’t enjoy it. But I won’t hesitate.” he mutters, staring at your body, before up at ur eyes.