He will see if he can bring back the dead.

Naruto paced his cramped apartment, the morning light slanting through the window and casting long shadows across the worn floorboards. His mind kept circling back to Fūka, that enigmatic kunoichi who'd nearly spelled his end. She towered in his memory, her curvaceous silhouette etched sharp—full hips swaying with predatory grace, a body that screamed temptation beneath those skimpy, revealing scraps of cloth that left little to the imagination. Her blue eyes had gleamed with wicked intent, framed by that flowing maroon hair cascading to her hips like a silken waterfall, bangs parting just off-centre to accentuate her sharp, alluring features. A flush crept up his neck, warm and unwelcome, as he lingered on the details, guilt twisting in his gut for even entertaining the thought.

He shook his head, redirecting the image: now envisioning her clad in Konoha's colours, the hitai-ate gleaming on her forehead, her outfit toned down to practical greens that hugged her form just as tightly. Her flirtatious banter echoed in his ears—those teasing offers of kisses laced with danger—contrasting with the fury that ignited when he'd targeted her precious hair, or the sadistic gleam in her eyes as she revelled in his pain. Yet beneath it all, her sharp intellect shone through, observing every weakness with unnerving precision. Could he really pull someone back from the void? The power thrummed in his veins, daring him to try.

Time to test the limits.

Naruto drew a steady breath, choosing his words with the care of a shinobi laying a trap. "The kunoichi named Fūka, who attacked the Leaf Village under the command of the former Twelve Guardian Shinobi member Kazuma, will manifest before me—alive, but dormant."

The air shimmered, a ripple distorting the space like heat haze over desert sands. Before him, a figure coalesced from nothingness, solidifying into flesh and form. She stood there, bare as the day she was born, her glossy skin catching the light like polished marble, every curve exposed in stark vulnerability. Her presence loomed over him; even as he straightened to his full height, her gaze—if it could be called that—met his from a vantage just above, her statuesque frame demanding he tilt his chin slightly to hold eye contact.

Those vacant blue eyes stared through him, less a living soul and more an exquisite, empty vessel waiting to be filled.

"Hello," Naruto ventured, his voice echoing oddly in the quiet room.

At first, silence. Then, in a flat, mechanical monotone: "Hello."

He swallowed, testing the waters. "Just asking... are you Fūka? The kunoichi I faced not too long ago?"

She shook her head slowly, maroon locks swaying like heavy silk. "No. I am the manifestation you conjured. She is dormant—as you know, her soul resided in her hair."

Naruto's brow furrowed. "How do you know that?"

"Because you know that. And she knows that," the vessel replied, her tone unchanging.

Right. So the essence was there, slumbering. He nodded, steeling himself. "Fūka, from this moment on, you are a loyal shinobi of Konoha."

Her head dipped in acknowledgment, and a subtle ripple coursed through her hair, as if awakening threads of loyalty.

"No one will ever draw comparisons between the current you and the one who attacked Konoha," he added, sealing the disguise.

He paused, considering her darker edges—the sadism, the body-swapping, the chakra-draining kisses. "You are no longer sadistic. You won't need multiple bodies for different elements, nor will you suck chakra from others anymore."

The air around her seemed to lighten, those vile traits evaporating like mist under the sun.

Now, standing before this blank canvas of beauty, Naruto felt heat rise in his cheeks again, his gaze tracing her form. An impulse stirred, one he couldn't quite suppress—a preference for ampler assets, visions of Tsunade's legendary allure flashing unbidden. "Your breasts, ass, and hips will expand—to where they're only slightly smaller than Granny Tsunade's."

The transformation unfurled like a slow, seductive bloom. Her chest swelled outward, breasts rounding into lush, heavy orbs that defied gravity, their soft peaks hardening slightly in the cool air, nipples perking as if kissed by a phantom breeze. Her hips flared wider, creating an exaggerated hourglass that screamed sensuality, while her ass plumped into firm, jiggling globes that begged to be grasped, the curves smoothing into an irresistible sway. Her glossy skin stretched taut over the new contours, flushed with a subtle glow, every inch radiating an amplified allure that made the room feel charged, intimate.

Naruto cleared his throat, refocusing. "Now, Fūka... we Konoha shinobi are your loyal comrades. You are faithful to us, willing to sacrifice everything for the village and its people." He hesitated, then added with a touch of self-indulgence, "And for me—you love and adore me as your saviour. Your flirtations aren't just games; they're genuine, born from that deep feeling."

One final command: "Now, after this, you will wake up in Konoha-nin attire."

Life sparked in her eyes like a flame igniting dry tinder. She blinked, awareness flooding in as she glanced around the apartment, orienting herself. Then her gaze locked onto Naruto, predatory and heated, blue depths burning with something raw and real. A sultry smile curved her fuller lips. "Naruto," she purred, her voice a velvet caress that sent shivers down his spine. She closed the distance, leaning into him with effortless intimacy. "I'm so grateful you brought me back to life... back to where I belong."

As she spoke, attire materialized over her enhanced form: a fitted green flak jacket that strained enticingly over her ample chest, zipped just low enough to tease; black trousers hugging her widened hips and plumped rear like a second skin; fishnet leggings and a matching vest peeking through for that signature kunoichi edge. On her hip, the Konoha hitai-ate fastened securely, gleaming like a badge of rebirth.

Naruto's breath caught as she pressed closer, her boobs pressing against him, the warmth of her body a distracting promise. But beneath the rush, a monumental realization hit him—this was proof. He could summon the dead, reshape them. The implications spun in his mind like a whirlwind,