Naruto: Unlocking Kaido Template

Zixu activated the Silence Fruit coursing through his body, his eyes narrowing as an invisible force spread outward from him.

"Soundproof barrier."

A wave of absolute silence rippled from Zixu as its center, swallowing all sound within its range. The lively singing, the frantic dancing, and the carefree laughter of the festival vanished in an instant—leaving only two voices behind.

One belonged to Zixu. The other...

"Hey, bro! Would you like some ramen? It's freshly made, smells so good—"

The ramen shop owner's smile remained unchanged, his expression warm and welcoming, but... something about it felt wrong.

It was the kind of smile that had been fixed in place for centuries, like a lifeless mask carved onto an ancient mural or the eerie expressions of terracotta warriors staring at you in a museum. At first glance, it appeared normal, but the longer you looked, the more unnatural it became—like something pretending to be human.

Yet, within that stiff, rehearsed expression, Zixu sensed something different.

A struggle.

As if the ramen vendor was fighting against an unseen force. His words faltered, breaking apart like a glitching hologram, repeating in a choppy, unnatural manner—

"Gr— Green rice balls... dim sum... Yuanxiao... t—top brand... c-chicken soup is delicious... s—sand is not tasty... pour oil... chrysanthemum..."

Each word tore itself from his throat, as if uttering them was painful.

Then, without warning—

His face... changed.

His once plump cheeks shriveled, the flesh sinking inward like deflated balloons. His smiling eyes, once lively, hollowed out, becoming dark pits deep enough to hold a steamed bun. His shiny skin cracked, turning pale and dry—like fractured porcelain carelessly pieced together by unseen hands.

Zixu stared, his breath catching in his throat.

What the hell...?

If he had to describe it, it was like playing a high-budget AAA game—only for the graphics to suddenly downgrade to Famicom level, and the companion NPC chatting with you turned into a grotesque, tentacle-covered monster.

Then—silence.

The man froze as if his code had been wiped from existence. A moment later—

"Hey, bro! Would you like some ramen? It's freshly made, smells so good—"

The exact same words, the exact same tone, the exact same forced smile.

Zixu let out a slow breath and dispelled the Soundproof Wall, letting the outside world's chaotic noises rush back into his ears.

He took a deep, lingering look at the ramen shop owner.

Was this man truly a living person?

Or just a fragment of this illusion?

Either way—if the vendor had somehow resisted the illusion to warn him, then Zixu would remember his kindness.

Even if he had no idea whether the man still had a soul left inside him.

---

The Hidden Message

"Green rice balls, dim sum, Yuanxiao, top brand, chicken soup, sand, splashing oil, chrysanthemum..."

Zixu muttered under his breath, his brows furrowing as his fingers absentmindedly traced his chin.

What do these words mean?

His gut told him that the ramen vendor could only speak using words related to his own identity—food, cooking, and dining. If this was a clue, then it had to be deciphered using that logic.

Taking action, Zixu turned to the street vendors surrounding him.

"Uncle, do you sell anything besides ramen? How about Qingtuan (Green Rice Balls) or Yuanxiao (Glutinous Rice Dumplings)?"

He swept his gaze over their stalls, scanning the food they held, but...

Nothing.

The vendors shook their heads without a word, then returned to their fixed routines—calling out to customers, frying skewers, and handing out meals.

Just like NPCs in a game, programmed with preset behaviors.

...No response.

Zixu frowned. Some vendors did sell Yuanxiao, but when he inspected them, nothing seemed unusual about them. And there was no way in hell he was testing them himself.

For all he knew, one bite could trap him in this hell forever.

Then—

A realization struck him.

"Wait... if their speech is limited, then how did the vendor convey information to me?"

Zixu's eyes narrowed. He had been investigating using normal logic.

But what if he thought about it from their perspective?

A different system of communication. A different set of rules.

And then—

It clicked.

Without hesitation, he activated his ability once more.

"Silence."

The mocking laughter, the distant drum beats, the strange whispers in the background—all of it vanished.

With the distractions gone, Zixu could think clearly.

A method of relaying information...

Something fast, simple, and direct...

The principle of economy in language...

Then it hit him.

"Acrostic pronunciation!"

Zixu's heart pounded as he carefully extracted the first syllable of each word the ramen vendor had given him:

Qing (Green)

Dian (Dot)

Yuan (Source)

Tou (Head)

Ji (Chicken)

Sha (Sand)

Pu (Splash)

Ju (Chrysanthemum)

Qing Dian Yuan Tou Ji Sha Pu Ju.

Zixu murmured the phrase under his breath—then suddenly...

His eyes widened.

A different way to say it:

"The source of the celebration—kill it—and break the deadlock!"

That's it!

A sharp clarity washed over him, as if a thick fog had finally lifted.

There were still unanswered questions, but at least he now had a target.

It was time to act.

---

Cracking the Festival's Secret

With a snap of his fingers, Zixu released the Soundproof Wall, letting sound return to the world once more.

This time—he played along.

Grinning, he clapped his hands and stepped into the crowd of dancers, his voice ringing out with cheerful enthusiasm:

"Hey, what are we celebrating? What's the occasion?"

His tone was light, playful—natural, as if he had finally succumbed to the joyous atmosphere.

The people around him were finally no longer as numb as before. As if some key words had been triggered, their expressions suddenly became animated, no longer laughing meaninglessly as before. An old man with white hair and a long beard turned toward him and explained:

"This is a festival celebrating the divine gift of Lady Tagorihime. Everyone is rejoicing in honor of Lady Tagorihime of their own free will. Look around you—fresh food and water, a peaceful and prosperous life, free from worry. All of this is granted to us by Lady Tagorihime. Of course, we must celebrate her!"

Though the old man appeared frail, his face flushed with emotion at the mention of Lady Tagorihime, his tone brimming with gratitude and pride. His once-hunched back even straightened slightly, as if bolstered by his reverence.

"Oh? So this entire festival is dedicated to Lady Tagorihime? The source of the celebration..." Zixu's eyes narrowed. "By the way, where is Lady Tagorihime now? I'd love to meet her in person. If I don't get to express my deepest gratitude face to face, I'll regret it for the rest of my life..."

Zixu had already determined that Lady Tagorihime was at the heart of all this. If she truly was the source of everything, then approaching her directly and eliminating her would be the most efficient way to break the cycle—assuming, of course, that he had the power to defeat her.

At his words, the old man's gaze sharpened dangerously, like a blade piercing straight into Zixu's soul. It was an unsettling sensation, as if every part of him was laid bare under the man's scrutiny. But after a brief moment, the pressure eased, and the old man's expression returned to normal, as though the piercing gaze had never been his in the first place.

"Youth, you do not believe in Goddess Tagorihime," the old man stated, stroking his brittle beard. "Only true believers may approach her divine palace. Without faith, you will never find your way to her." His expression carried a trace of pity, as though he were looking at someone lost in the dark.

"Oh? And what exactly does it mean to 'believe' in Goddess Tagorihime?" Zixu asked, his tone light, though his mind remained sharp. "Or rather, what must I offer to gain that belief? And in return, what do I receive?"

Zixu made no effort to feign devotion. To him, faith was just an exchange—one where believers offered time, energy, or unwavering loyalty, and in return, they received vague promises or mere peace of mind. That was when a so-called god had no tangible presence in reality. But when a deity was real, the terms of that exchange became far more dangerous. He had no intention of accepting any "blessings" without knowing the cost.

The old man chuckled. "You do not need to pay anything to follow Lady Tagorihime. All that is required is your sincere gratitude and faith. And what do you gain in return...?"

As he spoke, the old man's demeanor shifted. His hunched figure straightened further, and his expression shone with almost unnatural radiance, as though faith itself had invigorated him.

"If you believe in Lady Tagorihime, you will gain eternal life! We have lived like this for... who knows how long? Since I first devoted myself to Lady Tagorihime, my body has ceased to age. My spirit and physical strength have grown immeasurably. The ailments that tormented me for years have all vanished!"

His tone brimmed with fervor, his voice growing louder, like an elderly man enthralled by a miracle cure.

"Eternal life?" Zixu murmured, his thoughts racing. He recalled how, no matter how many times he passed through that doorway, he would always be transported back to the entrance. The timeline reset, as did the people within it.

If that counted as immortality, then the old man's words weren't entirely false.

The realization sent a chill down Zixu's spine. A detail he had overlooked suddenly loomed before him—something so commonplace that it had seemed unremarkable at first. But now that he noticed it, the truth was horrifying.

"Oh? So by believing in Goddess Tagorihime, you achieve eternal life?" His lips curled into a smirk, though his voice held a tinge of sorrow. "Hah... Hahahaha..." His laughter grew louder, tinged with mockery, sympathy, and fear all at once.

The old man's expression darkened. "What are you laughing at?" he demanded, stepping closer, his tone laced with hostility.

The surrounding people had overheard the exchange. One by one, they turned toward Zixu, their faces eerily gloomy. The once-lively celebration had fallen into a deathly silence. No supernatural power had been used, yet the stillness in the air rivaled that of his Soundproof Barrier (Onkyō Kabe - 音響壁).

Zixu, however, remained unfazed. His smirk deepened.

"Well then," he said, his voice casual yet charged with purpose, "let me wake you all up."

He had already found the fatal flaw in this eternal paradise—the glaring contradiction in these people's so-called immortality. And now, it was time to break the cycle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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