Curse These Old Bones - SFW Non Canon Extra 3

Just for fun. 

-- -- --

Choji was hungry.

This was expected. It was as natural as the sunrise, as inevitable as Kiba losing an argument to Shino, as certain as Naruto yelling about ramen at least once a day.

And yet, he was not eating.

This was wrong. Unnatural. A disturbance in the great cosmic balance. Somewhere, an Akimichi ancestor shuddered in the afterlife.

His mother, standing across from him, radiated the growing concern of a woman who had never once in her life seen her son reject food. She folded her arms, brow furrowing in deep maternal skepticism.

“Choji,” she said, slow and firm, “eat. Your. Bagel.”

Choji did not eat his bagel.

Choji could not eat his bagel.

Choji could not even look at his bagel.

Because if he did…

If he so much as acknowledged its existence…

Then he would have to face the truth.

It sat there on his plate, golden-brown and perfectly round, its smooth surface inviting, its scent warm and yeasty. The toasted edges were crisp, the dough inside soft and yielding, an innocent bread product designed solely to bring joy.

But he knew better.

The roundness. The absence in the center.

The hollow, gaping void.

This was no bagel.

This was him.

The Pug.

His breath hitched.

The bagel did not move. And yet, somehow, it loomed.

A chill slid down his spine, icy fingers crawling across his skin.

His stomach flipped, hunger warring with something much deeper, much primal.

He was back in the forest.

The trees pressed in, their branches warped, their forms curling unnaturally at the edges, as if they could not bear to fully exist in the presence of what lurked among them. The shadows stretched too far, creeping along the ground like spilled ink.

And there, waiting, eternal, was the pug.

It sat motionless, yet every part of him screamed that it was moving—inward, outward, folding into itself and yet expanding at the same time, its being stretching beyond the limits of comprehension.

Its eyes were vast and black, endless pools of unfathomable depth. Its grin was too wide, lips curling back just enough to reveal too many teeth, teeth that should not be there, teeth that did not belong to a dog.

And then it spoke.

"A̷K̶I̸M̵I̸C̴H̴I̴..."

Choji’s soul tried to escape his body.

"Y̸O̷U̴ ̶F̶E̶A̴S̵T̷,̷ ̷A̶N̸D̵ ̵Y̶E̴T̴ ̸Y̴O̷U̸ ̵A̷R̵E̴ ̶N̶O̴T̵ ̷W̷O̸R̴T̶H̷Y̴.̵"

The words did not pass through the air. They slid into his mind, seeped into his bones, rattled in his chest. They bypassed language entirely, carried by something deeper, something ancient and hungry and vast.

"Y̴O̸U̵ ̸D̴O̶ ̶N̷O̴T̵ ̴T̵R̴A̶I̶N̴.̷ ̴Y̷O̶U̶ ̸G̷R̴O̸W̴ ̶S̵O̶F̵T̴.̶"

The ground lurched beneath him. His breath came in shallow gasps.

"A̵N̸D̵ ̴I̶F̷ ̴Y̶O̴U̵ ̵D̶O̶ ̴N̷O̶T̶ ̵G̶R̷O̴W̸ ̸S̸T̵R̶O̷N̷G̶E̸R̵…̶"

No.

No, please, no.

"I̶ ̵W̷I̷L̶L̶ ̷F̴I̴N̶D̸ ̶Y̵O̷U̴.̸"

Choji’s entire body seized in terror.

"A̴N̸D̷ ̴I̶ ̵W̴I̷L̶L̶ ̷E̵A̴T̸ ̴Y̷O̴U̵R̶ ̸F̴O̶O̸D̷."

The air collapsed around him.

The bagel sat unmoving on the plate.

And yet, Choji knew.

It had spoken.

It had promised.

The chair screeched as he shot backward, chakra flaring instinctively. Partial Expansion Jutsu—his arms swelled defensively, tableware shaking from the force of his panic.

His mother pinched the bridge of her nose. “Are you training at the table?”

Choji did not respond. He could not afford to respond.

He needed to train.

He needed to always train.

Because if he let his guard down—if he stopped for even a moment—the pug would come.

And the pug would eat.

—

From that moment on, Choji never stopped training.

He trained between meals.

He trained during meals.

His body would instinctively activate techniques in his sleep, shifting between muscle reinforcement and chakra efficiency like a self-sustaining machine.

His mother found him, days later, snoring soundly, yet still subconsciously channeling chakra—his arms twitching as if preparing for battle even in slumber.