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Chapter 3 - The Kaguya Fool
🕑 Added 2025-10-04 06:07:44 +0000 UTCCommissioned by [TCJ] on Patreon
Disclaimer - I don’t own or claim to own any Intellectual Property that might appear in this story. I only own the Original Characters. Enjoy!
Konoha
Previously
He surprised himself with the laugh that bubbled out of his throat, for the attempt at humor might have been terrible, but it did come from an individual who seemed to have given up completely.
He had a hunch that he would not regret his decision today.
–Minato Namikaze–
He was right. He just stood there, midway to the seal that would have teleported the Tailed Beast Bomb along with him when he burst out of the village, covered in a gleaming black skeleton. He smiled as Peter Parker, a name he still thought to be odd, cut the Tailed Beast Bomb in half, saving the village from the Nine Tails’ rampage for the time being.
His smile turned to a frown as he teleported, appearing behind the Masked Uchiha responsible for this night as his anger gave way to cool analytics as he thought of ways to stop this.
___xx___
–Peter Parker–
He’d gone insane. He knew that much. When he first found himself in this world, in an entirely alien body, with a literal massacre going on all around him with people killing each other and reveling in it, he had thought he’d gone insane then.
Like his body was having some bad reaction to some super drug, making his mind delirious, because there was no way something like this could be real?
Apparently not. When his body moved on its own and he found himself with his hands in the chest of his attacker, someone who died with a smile on his face, something broke inside of him, and then, when the memories of this body hit him like a giant sledgehammer, it broke him even further.
When he realised that this was not some attack, that this grotesque display of murder, bloodlust, and perversion of natural order was not just happenstance but a regular thing, he’d gone mad.
After that, after every single one of the people in front of him had either been killed or killed someone else, he had wandered around for months. He had thought that witnessing that made him insane.
He was wrong.
Seeing the state of the village he was in, how cruel, malignant, and just uncaring of each other they were, it broke him down even further, to the point that he did the one thing he swore never to do, not after what happened to Uncle Ben.
He ran.
He ran as far as he could, as fast as he could, and he could run pretty fast. That was when he realised a few things about his body in this accursed world. It really did feel like he was sent to some hellworld for his mistakes and failures.
His body, it was different, in many ways, and yet, the same in some. He still had all his powers from before. They were just, amped up, by a lot. He had never been able to create a localised earthquake before, and run so fast into trees, that it looked like someone had taken a human shaped blade to them. He was durable too, far more than before.
Kunai couldn’t get past his skin. Fire Jutsu just washed over his skin. He still had his spider sense from before, but just like everything else, it was amped up to 11, turning it into a potent precognition power, allowing him to see the future of a certain encounter by multiple seconds.
That time would have been precious even back when he was still Spiderman but now? Now that he could react faster than his opponents could blink and could take all the damage while dishing out ten times more? That made him all but unstoppable.
Then there were the other powers. The bones.
God, the first time he had to take the bones out of his spine, it had been horrifying to watch from a normal perspective and quite interesting from a clinical perspective. These bones of his, he could manipulate and alter at will. His special bones, a unique genetic condition that has not been seen for centuries, was something that could cut through chakra.
It was bullshit of the highest order. The ability to cut through energy with something as simple as bones should have been scientifically impossible, and yet, here he was, taken and dumped into a new world that treated senseless slaughter, child soldiers, regular World Wars, and war crimes as nothing more than things that happened regularly.
It had taken him a while, but eventually, after what felt like years, where he predominantly spent most of his time on his powers and isolated from everyone, he felt as if he had gotten some semblance of his sanity back.
He would never be the same witty, funny Peter Parker ever again, that much he could admit to himself, as terrifying as it was, but over time, he learned to adjust. He made himself acknowledge that he was stuck here, and that escape from something like this was above his pay grade.
He had no tools, no scientific knowledge to fall back on, no generations of research to use as a foundation, nothing. He was pretty damned smart but he was not a magician. He couldn’t make something out of nothing. Which is why he also realised that he couldn’t spend all his time alone, honing his abilities for no reason.
He had to use them. There had to be a reason for all of this, for all this suffering. Maybe he was brought here to ease some of it, maybe he could somehow put a stop to at least some of the senseless suffering all around him.
Alas, reality proved him wrong. He was strong, extremely so, with knowledge of honest to god magic imprinted in his head, allowing him to cast fireballs, but as he rapidly realised, that amounted to almost nothing when it came to the real movers and shakers of this world.
He’d thought that all these wars, these constant killings, were part of some elaborate scheme put into motion by a handful of people or an organisation that he could single out and dismantle, destroy, or…kill.
That fanciful dream had been crushed within the first month that he had spent lucid, slightly sane, and in human company once more. Weeks of investigation, using less than savoury methods to extract information out of targets, had yielded him information that he had never expected to come true.
Where he was from, people were good. Most of the people were genuinely good, only burdened by their own invisible weights that stopped them from going out and doing more good. At least that was what he believed in. He just happened to get some powers on top of being morally good, so he went out there every night to stop evil from prospering.
But in this world? In this god forsaken, accursed, hell incarnate world? That was not the case.
Apparently, the more people used chakra, the more powerful they grew, the more violent they got. It was all so clear to see once he filled the gaps in his history knowledge. The previous owner of this body had spent most of his time indulging in violence and was woefully ignorant of the world he lived in.
There was no overarching scheme of a small group of people who wished to lord over the majority of the population that was good. No evil plot he could dismantle on his own.
No, the problem was with the world itself. Even if isolated from everything else, the more chakra one had, the more proficient one got with it, the more powerful they were compared to everyone else, the more they craved violence.
It was as if it was hardcoded into their genes. This urge to fight, to kill.
He was powerful, yes, but he could not fight the entire world at once. No, that would be the ramblings of a madman.
The realisation that he couldn’t do anything, that there wasn’t a single objective he could fulfill to save this world, that realisation? It broke him.
He went insane again, destroying a small forest in his frenzy before cold fear gripped him and he retreated into his shell once more, spending months alone, getting to terms with the ugly truth and adapting to it as much as he could with a mind that was from a far more civilised place.
The next time he went out, he dug his head in the sand and began doing good deeds once more, ignoring the ugly little voice that told him that all of this meant nothing. That saving a dozen, a hundred, or even a thousand civilians meant nothing when a single Shinobi World War resulted in hundreds of thousands of overall casualties, both civilian and shinobi, though the information on civilian casualties was approximate at best.
So, he followed the violence, used what little talent he had to gather a small group of healers, gave them protection, money, whatever they needed to move from one place to the next, all so they could heal what was left from the fights between shinobi.
Sometimes, he went out and hunted down the shinobi, crippling them when he did not feel numb to all of it, resulting in more shinobi being sent after him, to either capture or kill him. He defeated them and moved on.
Right up until, he stumbled upon that fight. Hundreds of shinobi, all of them far stronger than Genin, were marching towards someplace. He wisely decided to stay hidden, right up until he saw him.
Flashes of yellow, appearing in the middle of the gathering, taking with it multiple lives for a single flash. He should have just moved on. He should have left the fight and came back with the healers to see if anyone could be saved in the aftermath, but alas….
Uncle Ben raised him right. Even insane, even broken, even after having gone mad with the ugly truth of the world, through all of that darkness, Uncle Ben’s words ran like a gong in his mind.
With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility.
It was as if those words, spoken by a man, cleared away all the gunk in his mind and gave him the strength to jump in.
So, he did jump in.
Without a single thought of how it might go down, how he might just get himself killed, or how he might fail without saving a single soul, he jumped into the fight, with the aim of stopping the Yellow Flash from taking any more lives.
Because, from his perspective, The Yellow Flash, killing all those people was almost the same as all those trained shinobi killing civilians, the difference in strength was that big.
So, he jumped in, and it quickly became clear to him the difference between the shinobi he had fought before and the Yellow Flash. He was in an entirely different league, pushing him to lengths he had never been pushed before, in either of his lives.
His spider sense worked in overdrive, predicting from where the Yellow Flash would pop out from, with a kunai in his hand and a one-toned focus to kill his enemy.
It became pretty clear to both of them that neither side could touch, defeat, or kill the other person. Minato was too fast for him, too aware of his surroundings. He could kind of see the future and literally cut through chakra, forcing Minato to resort to techniques that weren't his signature ones.
So, both of their attentions turned to the people they could both touch or defeat.
He could see it now, in between the cells of the Konoha Maximum Security prison he was in, that it was not the best choice he had made at that moment.
To show the Yellow Flash that people could be defeated, instead of being killed. He had forgotten, in the heat of battle, that people here were not sent to jail, because there was no jail, for the entire world.
These shinobi, once defeated, would go back to their village, heal, and then move right back to war, something that the Yellow Flash wanted to prevent.
Alas, at the time, he had been all out of sanity and had tried to reason with the Yellow Flash by moving as fast as he could to just knock out all the shinobi. He didn't know that the Yellow Flash was convinced that the only way to win here was to kill all of them.
The result was…devastating, for him.
Minato Namikaze succeeded. The Yellow Flash, Butcher, whatever they called him, succeeded in killing hundreds and then, stopped an entire country/village from participating in it, indirectly saving thousands more.
Alas, he was in no mood for rational wartime thought at the time. No, he was just so angry, so livid, at the Yellow Flash but more at himself. Angry at himself for letting down Uncle Ben and his words.
Then, he attacked the Yellow Flash.
After a couple of attacks, back and forth, the Yellow Flash left, having realised his goal, leaving him standing in a ruined landscape, with hundreds of dead bodies strewn all around him, defeated.
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