Konoha: The Honored One

Kurenai's heart felt lighter, as if a soothing warmth had wrapped around her, pushing back the chilling dread that had taken root earlier. It was as though the oppressive weight of impending doom had lifted, just for a moment. Yet, no sooner had she gathered her resolve than a new presence entered the fray—a presence that was both familiar and entirely exasperating.

A frivolous "hero."

Kurenai had always been pragmatic. Life had taught her early on that self-reliance was the only dependable truth. Heroes? They were just bedtime stories to pacify naive hearts. If heroes truly existed, why had her parents been taken from her? Why had her life been so unrelentingly cruel? And yet, despite her cynicism, here he was—someone who defied everything she thought she knew.

"Heroes," she thought bitterly. "If this guy counts, maybe I need to rethink my standards."

From the shadows, her sharp voice broke the tense silence. "Gojo, are you just going to stand there and watch, or do you plan to help for once!?" Her glare pierced through the dim light toward the figure who had arrived fashionably late, as usual. Gojo Satoru—always unpredictable, always insufferable.

Leisurely, as if the chaos around him was nothing more than a passing breeze, Gojo stepped forward, the faint glow of his lollipop catching the light. He raised a hand lazily, and with a flick of his wrist, Sasori's incoming blade came to a screeching halt mid-air, frozen as if caught in an invisible vice.

Gojo gave the lollipop a contemplative crunch before flashing an arrogant grin. "Relax, relax," he drawled, adjusting his sunglasses with a theatrical flourish. "I'm just here to make sure my entrance is appropriately dramatic. Can't rush these things."

Kurenai's frustration hit its peak. Her jaw tightened as she tried to rein in the sharp retort bubbling within her. "You're unbelievable," she hissed, eyes narrowing. "We're fighting for our lives, and you're worried about style points!"

Gojo tilted his head toward her, an exaggerated look of hurt on his face. "Aw, Kurenai-chan, don't be like that. You should know by now that I'm all about efficiency," he said, gesturing toward Sasori's immobilized blade. "See? Problem solved."

Kurenai opened her mouth to retort but hesitated. Her emotions were a whirlwind—annoyance at his smug attitude, gratitude for his timely intervention, and something far more confusing that she refused to name.

Deidara, meanwhile, had been watching the exchange with mounting impatience. "So," he sneered, stepping forward with a wild grin. "You're the famous Gojo Satoru. The strongest kekkai genkai, huh? Let's see if it holds up against my art!" His hand flew up, detonating one of his signature clay bombs.

Gojo didn't even blink. As the explosion erupted, the shockwave rolled outward, but when the dust settled, he remained standing, untouched. He glanced at the scorched ground beneath his feet, his expression one of mild annoyance. "Art, huh? If that's what you call finger-painting with explosives, then I'm not impressed."

With that, Gojo vanished. One moment he was standing there, the next, the battlefield was empty. Confusion rippled through the reconnaissance team and the Seventh Squad, only for their surroundings to shift abruptly. In the blink of an eye, they found themselves transported to a safe distance, far from the chaos.

Gojo reappeared among them, hands in his pockets, his nonchalant demeanor betraying no sign of the effort it had taken to move them all. He extended a hand, blue chakra glowing softly as he began healing the injured. "50,000 ryo per treatment," he quipped, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smirk.

Might Guy, revitalized and brimming with energy, clapped Gojo on the back with enough force to stagger a lesser man. "Ah, the springtime of youth blossoms even in the face of peril! Surely you wouldn't charge your comrades for such noble work!"

Gojo shot him a sidelong glance. "Youth is free, Guy, Healing isn't," he replied dryly, ignoring the man's booming laughter.

Kurenai, arms crossed, raised an eyebrow. "Charging Tsunade-sama too, are you?" Her tone was laced with amusement, though her gaze remained sharp.

Gojo shrugged. "Well, I have to make up for all the time I spend babysitting," he said, his smirk widening as he nodded toward the Seventh Squad.

Naruto bristled. "Babysitting?! We're not kids!" he yelled, fists clenched.

Gojo crouched to Naruto's eye level, sunglasses glinting. "Of course not. You're a big boy," he said, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. Then, with a flick to Naruto's forehead, he straightened up.

"Anyway," he said, turning toward the battlefield once more, his tone suddenly cold and sharp. "Three minutes. That's all I'll need."

Kakashi, ever the pragmatist, nodded. "We'll provide backup," he said, his voice calm but resolute. The team braced themselves, their gazes shifting toward the distant figures of Sasori and Deidara.

Gojo waved a dismissive hand. "No need. Just sit tight and try not to get in the way."

The tension thickened as Sasori stepped forward, his body shifting and creaking as he activated his he declared, his voice low and menacing. "Let's see if you can handle this, Red Secret Technique: Performance of a Hundred Puppets!" The sky darkened as countless puppets filled the air, their strings gleaming like deadly spiderwebs. Sasori's malicious grin widened as he relished the sight of his army overwhelming the battlefield.

But Gojo didn't flinch. He stood in the center of it all, hands still in his pockets, his expression one of utter disdain. "A hundred puppets?" he muttered. "You really need to get a hobby."

As the puppets descended, chaos erupted once more. Yet, amidst the whirlwind of wooden limbs and deadly blades, Gojo moved like a ghost, weaving through the onslaught with effortless grace. Each puppet that approached him shattered before it could land a blow, reduced to splinters by an unseen force.

Deidara watched in disbelief, his excitement giving way to frustration. "What the hell is he?!" he growled, launching another clay bomb.

Gojo glanced up, his grin returning. "I told you—fireworks aren't my thing."

With a snap of his fingers, the air around him shifted. The remaining puppets stopped mid-motion, their strings unraveling as if cut by an invisible blade. Sasori staggered back, his face pale as realization dawned.

"Now," Gojo said, his voice soft but deadly, "let's end this, shall we?"

The battlefield went silent, the tension crackling like a live wire. As Gojo stepped forward, his overwhelming presence filling the air, even the bravest hearts faltered. And for the first time, Kurenai thought, perhaps heroes weren't just myths after all.