Thunder in Time of Revolution by Vermouth
Summary: Photobucket

Only five people knew of his existence of sacrifice as he grew up isolated for his own safety. Naruto faded into a tale of the tragic past and into the darkness of oblivion and then - rose...


Categories: General Fiction > Naruto Shippuuden, General Fiction > Timeless Characters: All, Jiraiya, Kakashi Hatake, Naruto Uzumaki, Tsunade, Minato Namikaze (Yondaime Hokage)
Genres: Action/Adventure, Drama
Warnings: AU, Death
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 15 Completed: No Word count: 68707 Read: 23248 Published: 26/11/11 Updated: 22/09/12
Story Notes:
I do not own Naruto.

1. Countdown by Vermouth

2. The Gates of Konoha by Vermouth

3. A Father's Pain by Vermouth

4. In the Darkness by Vermouth

5. A Shinobi of the Leaf by Vermouth

6. Morning by Vermouth

7. Konohamaru and the Blondaime Hokage by Vermouth

8. Team Gai by Vermouth

9. The Power of Youth by Vermouth

10. Unforgotten by Vermouth

11. Loneliness by Vermouth

12. Original Sin by Vermouth

13. The Sealing Chamber by Vermouth

14. The Five Intruders - Part One by Vermouth

15. The Five Intruders - Part Two by Vermouth

Countdown by Vermouth
Author's Notes:
I hope you'll like this story.
>

Prologue

Countdown

Hatake Kakashi sighed dejectedly behind an animal-like white and blue mask, reading over and over the names engraved on a conical-like stone of those who were solid pillars in his life. Common knowledge said that time healed all wounds, but for Hatake Kakashi it seemed cruel mockery to see those names slowly fade into unrecognisable markings, wilt steadily against the oblivion of time, when to him time had been almost stagnant for many, many years.

“Back again, Kakashi?” a kind, grave voice asked behind him.

            Kakashi didn’t bother to turn around for he knew very well who that voice belonged to. “Minato-sensei,” he acknowledged, without taking his eyes away from the memorial stone, as his mind unconsciously took in the sound of the soft steps reaching towards him.

            The November early morning skies began to shroud a cloak of impenetrable mist around the village, and comfortable silence fell between the two men, as it had always been. Neither of them were the talkative or rambunctious type, both of them gravitating towards the comfort of quietness and peace.

            Thunder cackled over the darkened horizon as dim rain began to fall, but neither man moved an inch, barely noticing their hair getting plastered around their faces and their clothes getting steadily soaked. It was a common occurrence for them, after all, as both had a penchant for going to the memorial stone almost every morning.

            Kakashi removed his wet silver hair away from his eyes and turned to look at the man next to him. His sensei had his eyes closed and his mouth set in deep contemplation, as if he were trying to discover some existential truth. The rain had tamed his golden hair to an extent, but there still many strands sticking out in rebelliousness at every direction. Kakashi was faintly amused to see that not even the rain could make it behave. His sensei’s hair liked to defy gravity.  

            Minato had his arms crossed over his chest, a habit he had acquired after spending too much time among the clan heads of Konoha. That posture along with his infamous Hokage cloak seemed to infuse respect at a subconscious level at any occasion. It suited Yondaime Hokage just fine, as it, along with his almost shrouded-in-myth reputation, made him out to be a no-nonsense man with no time or patience to deal with petty affairs.

            Sensing his gaze, the Hokage opened his slightly slanted eyes. He cocked his head to the left and stared at him inquiringly.

            Kakashi shook his head. “Have you ever thought what life would be like if they were still around?”

            The Hokage sighed wearily, aging ten years in the span of one second. He stared again at the memorial, his blue eyes hard. “It’s unhealthy to have such thoughts and it serves no purpose other than causing us further pain and mental instability. We cannot dwell upon impossible dreams and fantasies and forget about the right here and now; no matter how gritty and unkind reality may be.”

            And once again, no matter how skilled and widely acknowledged a Jounin he was, in the presence of his sensei, Kakashi felt like was a small Genin again. Abashedly, he opened his mouth to apologise when the sound died in his lips at the look his sensei was giving him. It was no longer hard, determined or wise. It was kind, understanding and brimming with ocean-deep sadness.

            “I think about it every day.”

            Kakashi smiled. Things would have been much, much worse for both him and Konoha if they had lost his sensei; as they nearly had on that fateful October night more than sixteen years ago. Sandaime’s sacrifice would never be either diminished or forgotten in Kakashi’s mind.

Yondaime Hokage loosened his arms as he bent down to stand on his right knee in front of the memorial stone. A sombre look took over his eyes, and his breathing became ragged for a moment as he painstakingly lifted his right arm and extended his index finger, delicately tracing an inscription with the tip of his finger over and over, as if by that simple action he could get somewhat closer to the person that name had belonged to. “Kushina, what would you have done?”

Kakashi sighed again. “Under such extenuating circumstances, there were not many options available. In fact, I’d go as far as to say that it is because of your foresight and careful scheming that he’s been kept out of danger and under the radar for such a long time.”

Yondaime pressed the heel of his palm against his forehead in such a way Kakashi was almost sure could’ve cracked any other skull. Kushina-san used to say her husband had an exceptionally thick head. Perhaps there was more truth to that statement than he had originally thought.

The Hokage let out a strangled, frustrated guttural noise, bringing Kakashi back from his musings. “And yet, I cannot help but to feel that I have failed miserably,” he said angrily, his fingers clawing into his damp hair. “I have sacrificed happiness and love for the sake of survival. I forfeited his childhood to shape him into a fearsome warrior,” he muttered in self-loathing, eyes fixed on the memorial stone. He sighed, and in an instant all of his bravado was gone, replaced by utter tiredness. In a small voice, he added, “After all these years, I wouldn’t blame him if he despised me.”

It was not often that his old sensei confessed his inner torments, as he had always been a very private man and even more so since his wife had died on that fateful night. In fact, it had always been his sensei the one who listened to Kakashi’s inner turmoil. It was therefore bizarre for Kakashi to see the roles reversed, but he didn’t, however, hesitate to place a comforting hand on his sensei’s shoulder.  “Whatever your flaws and tough decisions, there is no way he could ever hate you when he knows you have his best interests at heart. Of that I have no doubt,” he said truthfully.

Namikaze Minato gave him a sad smile. “Perhaps there was no better choice. Yet doubt will always linger in my soul.” He rose to his feet slowly, shaking off the damp grass attached to his knees. Tiredly, he turned to his old student, “In any case, I will always be in your debt for those six years.”

Kakashi shook his head. “Think nothing of it. In fact, I’m grateful for those years.” He looked up at the grey skies pensively, trying to put his thoughts into a coherent sentence. “I gained back something I thought I had lost.”

The jōnin scratched his masked face, a glint of amusement flickering in his eyes. “Huh, speaking of which, I wonder whether he still takes after my clothing style…”

            And then, there it was. The dazzling, almost what-the-heck-is-this-genjutsu smile that Namikaze Minato hardly ever flashed. The kind of smile that had been reserved only to very few special people and special occasions. The kind of smile that once you saw, you would know that everything would be just fine.

“You’ll know soon enough. Jiraiya-sensei has sent word. He’s coming home.”

 

-OoOoOoOoO-

 

The black clouds crackled in foreboding glee, as if they were counting down the seconds until they could lash at the pitiful earth below with whips of lightning.

Almost invisible, shrouded in the robe of darkness the cold winter night provided, on top of the head of the majestic statue of one of Konoha’s forefathers, a lone figure dressed in a black cloak with red clouds imprinted on it gazed at the full moon with longing reflected on its only visible red eye.

            “Soon - it will start soon. And all shall be as it once was – mine. Everything that meddlesome fool did will be undone: the nine Tailed Beasts shall be no more. This cursed, wraith-like existence of mine will finally come to an end, and at last I will once again be what I have always been: the God of this world.”

            The masked silhouette vanished in a whorl of black, thunder resonating in its wake.

 

-OoOoOoOoO-

 

A/N: Well, I hope you enjoyed the prologue, which did not want to be written. Do not worry, my chapters tend to be quite lengthy, this is just a prologue. Oh, and my spelling is British, so there might be some differences in spelling many of you might not be used to.

Special thanks to Falcon777, whose insight, encyclopaedia-like knowledge, and opinions are beyond invaluable.

Until next time,

Vermouth

 

 

End Notes:
A/N: Well, here’s the prologue. A prologue that did not want to be written. Yes, it’s not a lengthy chapter, but it’s just a prologue. My chapters will be longer than this, more so as I delve into the plot. I hope that you will enjoy the story.

I'm looking for a beta-reader for this story. I saw that on the homepage of this site there's a link to a beta-reader directory, but it's only for either Harry Potter fanfiction or original works. Help, please?
Until next time,
Vermouth
The Gates of Konoha by Vermouth
Author's Notes:
I'll hope you will enjoy this chapter. As always, I do not own Naruto. It all belongs to Kishimoto-sensei.

Chapter One

The Gates of Konoha

 

He could feel it; his whole body was tingling in anticipation and excitement. Perhaps there even was some residual fear, but it was overpowered by the sheer joy that threatened to make his entire brain collapse and turn into porridge. Under the layers upon layers of clothing, his skin was prickling, shivering and sending small amounts of electrical current powerful enough to be visible to the human eye. His heart was beating a mile a minute; were he not a young man of sixteen, his current excitement would have most likely led him to heart failure.

                “Will you please stop it, brat? It’s freezing, it’s snowing, it’s the middle of December and yet you are so freaking happy it’s making me want to drop all my clothes and entertain the squirrels with a naked dance.”

                That statement was enough to put a lid to his joy. “I’m sorry, Sensei.”

                The older man snorted under his beige hood. “Whatever. Just tone it down or something. Otherwise the village will think it’s under a massive genjutsu attack.”

                Naruto smiled as he merrily hopped over a frosted tree root. Perhaps he just couldn’t kill all his joy off. He was simply just too –

                “NARUTO!”

                “All right, all right. Sheesh, chill out, Ero-Sennin.”

                Naruto paid no attention to his sensei’s dark mutterings as he took in a deep breath. The air was cold enough to freeze all of his organs, but he liked the cold. He had always liked the rain and snow, much better than the heat and sunny days. And the landscape was just beautiful. Sitting upon the frozen grounds was a maze of endless trees, glittering in the twilight. To most people, winter was a time of death, where there would be no roaming wildlife and the tress would have all but shed their leaves. But to Naruto, the stillness and quiet brought peace to his soul, a soul that had had a raging war within itself for the longest of times. Even if that chapter now belonged to his past, he was still grateful for the peace that came with winter.

                Over the horizon, Naruto could see the beginning of a massive wall. Just the sight of it in the distance made his heart skip a beat. He held back on his thoughts about what was waiting for him within Konoha, lest Ero-Sennin went true on his word and decided to do a jig in his birthday suit. The man may be family to him, but he had to draw a line somewhere.

                In the distance, as they walked, the wall became steadily bigger and more defined. The blurry huge mass of wood and stone morphed itself into a solid fortification in the shape of a coliseum. From the angle they were approaching, he could barely see the Hokage Monument, as the massive gates in front of him obscured his vision.

                And there it was. Ahead of him, just on the border of Konoha a figure was waiting for them, drenched and shivering. Unwittingly, his pace picked up. His sensei’s eyebrows shot up until he also spotted the figure in the distance, and then gave him an understanding smile.

                Naruto could see him. A white short-sleeved coat adorned with red flames at its edges and underneath that, a standard shinobi outfit consisting of dark blue pants and shirt, a flak jacket, leg bandage-like protectors and sandals. Soaked, golden hair plastered to a face. And a dazzling, larger-than-life blinding smile.

                The Hokage was waiting for them.

               

-OoOoOoOoO-

 

Namikaze Minato was annoyed. While he usually was a fairly tolerant man – he had had Jiraiya as his sensei, Kushina as his wife and Kakashi as his student, after all – there were many things that ticked him off. Among those many things were Iwagakure, Uchiha Madara, the Uchiha Clan minus precious few, paperwork and having his tea defiled.

                It wasn’t an odd occurrence to see the Hokage glaring at a steaming cup, willing it to self-destruct. Especially if said beverage had been foul enough to make him spit it on his most detested paperwork. It didn’t help matters if there happened to be other shinobi present, who would always find some amusement at his predicament. Every human being had their quirks after all. What was so wrong about his tea fetish? At least he wasn’t being beaten to an inch of his life like Jiraiya-sensei for being a hopeless pervert. Or called something as demeaning as ‘The Legendary Sucker’, like Tsunade-senpai. Kakashi read porn all day long, for crying out loud!

                Worst of all was when Uchiha Itachi was present at such dreadful situations. The young ANBU captain was a true prodigy in the field, but more than that he was a kind person with a very composed attitude. However, it seemed to be beyond him to hold back his mirth every time the Hokage was presented with such travesties.

                “You think this is funny, Itachi-san? This tastes like piss!”

                “I didn’t know you such peculiar drinking tastes, Hokage-sama,” Itachi deadpanned. “I’ve heard there are countries that think of it as a very healthy habit.”

                “Hardy-har-har. Smartypants.” The Hokage glared once again at his cup before he stood up and opened his window. Fortunately, that day was a very cold December day, so the chances of someone being outside the Hokage Tower were slim. And if there was actually someone, well, that heretic beverage was hot, so anyone would be grateful for the extra warmth. So without further ado, he dropped the mug’s contents.

                “Hokage-sama-!”

                “What?” he retorted as he closed the window, a fierce look in his eyes.

                The ANBU captain sighed in defeat. “Nothing, sir.”

                Just as the Hokage was about to sit down again and reform a bond with his most despised paperwork, there was a small bang and a puff of smoke. A second later, a small frog materialised on the Hokage’s desk with a scroll in its mouth. Avidly and without even bothering to greet the little amphibian, Namikaze Minato snatched the sealed parchment, opened it, and read it with an eagerness very unlike the Hokage that Uchiha Itachi knew.  

                “Thank you, Gamatsuchi-kun. You may leave now.”

                The Uchiha prodigy thought it was decent of the Hokage to not forget about the frog messenger in his apparent rush, for Yondaime had most definitely just left his office, forgetting about the ANBU captain sitting there. Perhaps he should take offense to that.

                Sighing, Uchiha Itachi rose to his feet and walked towards the door, wondering when had his leader become so eccentric and what on earth could have Jiraiya-sama told him in that message that had the Hokage in such a hurry. Could it be that Konoha would be soon under attack? He knew of the threat within, but not much about the threat outside the walls, as it wasn’t within the perimeter of his current duty.

                He shook his head. Better to stop musing over his superior’s oddities and focus on the problem at hand, his clan. The Hokage had not liked it, but Itachi had convinced him that it was the only way. While having to spy on his family broke his heart, he was the only one who could get around it. Itachi sighed tiredly as his hand reached for the doorknob –

                BAM.

                Itachi hissed, clutching at his forehead where the door had nearly cleaved his skull in two.

                “Itachi-san?” The Hokage’s confused face appeared behind the accursed door.

                “H-hai, Hokage-sama,” he stuttered, a hand pressed to his throbbing forehead.

                The blond leader frowned. “Sorry about that, Itachi-san. Didn’t know you were behind the door. Go downstairs and ask for some ice.”

                “I’ll be just fine, Hokage-sama. Was there anything you needed?”

                Yondaime raised an eyebrow. He was almost sure Itachi-san would be sporting a new tattoo on his forehead from that day onwards. “I came back to tell you that I may need you tomorrow, so please take the day off. It’s only about -” he paused to check his watch, “- noon, so just go and enjoy yourself today.”

                Itachi frowned. “What kind of mission should I prepare myself for?”

                The Hokage gave him a mysterious smile. “Don’t go to any extremes, Itachi-san. I’m not sending you out. Just get a good night’s sleep and that’s all you need. Oh,” the Hokage added, as if he just had remembered something very important, “If you see Kakashi by any chance, tell him to come to my office immediately and wait for me.”

                “Hai, Hokage-sama,” Itachi obliged, feeling somewhat confused. The Hokage had never been this cryptic. As a matter of fact, the Hokage had never been this, this… energetic and lively.

                Yondaime was closing the door when he suddenly opened it again speedily. Itachi jumped back instinctively. If he hadn’t been working directly under the Hokage for such a long time, he might as well have thought that his leader was trying to kill him.

                The Namikaze gave him a piercing look, and not for the first time Itachi thought the Hokage had an X-ray vision with which he could see the very depths of your soul. “I just wanted to say,” he started, his voice back to its usual composed tone, “That I’m very sorry for the position you are in. I don’t think I could stay in one piece were I in your shoes.”

                And with that the Hokage disappeared, leaving a very bemused Uchiha Itachi behind.

 

-OoOoOoOoO-

 

Minato knew he was acting out of character. He could not blame Itachi-san for looking so utterly flummoxed. In fact, Minato thought it bizarre that Itachi-san had not accused him of being an impostor. That alone was enough for Minato to blame himself for the pressure he and the Council had put on the poor ANBU captain. He had offered Itachi-san time and time again to have him relieved of the post; he had even offered himself to do the task for him. But Itachi-san had refused; He had insisted that he alone would spy upon the Uchiha Clan. Of course, the Council had been worried of being fed false information; but Yondaime knew better. The boy’s heart was breaking; there was no lie in that.

                It was a sad day for Konoha when the village had to rely on children to spy upon their families.

                Yondaime sighed as he swiftly jumped from one rooftop to another, not even noticing that the sharp frozen winds had given him a pair of small cuts on his face. He didn’t notice either the curious looks he was gathering from the people below, who weren’t used to seeing their Hokage flying around so nonchalantly and yet so speedily. So lost in thought he was he didn’t even hear the zealous voice of jōnin Maito Gai, who was very happy to see that the Hokage was brimming with the fires of youth, yosh!

He tried to shake off the feeling of unease, at least for the time being. At that exact moment, he was stepping down from being Konoha’s Yondaime Hokage and was about to assume his most treasured title: Namikaze Minato, father to Namikaze Naruto. His son – his son! – was coming back today, after so many years, he was coming back home. 

And that was enough for him. Yondaime was smiling beatifically when he reached the Gates of Konoha, eagerly awaiting the arrival of his old sensei and son. It didn’t matter to him that it was December, that it was freezing and that it was snowing. He didn’t care about the curious looks he was getting from the gatekeepers Izumo and Kotetsu, nor did he pay any attention to the murmurs of some citizens who were wondering whether the village’s leader had lost his marbles. He didn’t care about any of that, for his son was finally coming home.

He might have cared, though, about the fact that Jiraiya had never given further specifications other than they would be arriving that day. Had he known, he probably wouldn’t have spent five hours getting soaked to the bone.

Probably.

Oh, who was he trying to fool? He still would have. He didn’t want to miss the moment his son appeared.

 

-OoOoOoOoO-

 

Naruto wasn’t even sure how he had got there. One second the Hokage was a blurry shape in the distance, and the next, he was standing before him within the gates of Konoha. His feet had taken him there without him even noticing he was leaving his sensei behind.

Yondaime Hokage was standing before him, his drenched clothes clinging to his body. He was still about two inches taller than Naruto, so the teenager had to raise his head to meet the leader’s steely blue eyes.

His chest constricted at the sight of Yondaime’s face, a little gasp escaping from his lips. He looked exactly the same as he remembered; he hadn’t aged a day during those long seven years since he last he saw him. But no, what made Naruto’s chest tighten was the feral look on the Hokage’s face. The slanted blue eyes were sizzling as they pierced Naruto’s eyes. He could almost feel as if his father’s spirit was flittering through his slit-like pupils, inching forward to reach the very depths of his soul.

The older man’s arms shook as he painstakingly lifted them to place his cold, wet hands on his shoulders, his fingers grasping him tightly. “Let me see your face, Naruto,” he whispered in a barely audible voice, an urgent and pleading edge to it.

Naruto lifted one hand to keep his black hood in place and the other hand to his face, extending two fingers to lower the ninja mask that covered every part of his face below his eyes. He shifted slightly to the left so that there would be no chance of the gatekeepers, the only people he could sense around, getting a glimpse of his face. He felt relieved when he noticed his sensei on the lookout. After all, he didn’t think it would be wise to advertise that he was the Hokage’s son.

Naruto drew in a deep breath, counted to three and lowered the mask in one swift move.

He almost winced when he felt his father’s fingers clawing into his shoulders. Minato’s eyes were roaming Naruto’s face, absorbing hungrily every single tiny detail. He bent his knees slightly and peered under the hood Naruto was wearing. “That blond hair is too much of a giveaway, isn’t it?” he asked, satisfied.

Naruto nodded and gulped as he felt his father’s hand trace one of his whisker marks on his cheeks. The elder blond frowned sadly, “I’m so sorry for doing this to you, my son. I’m so, so sorry…”

Naruto grabbed the hand on his face, startling his father. He did not utter a single word. He only held his father’s gaze, trying to express his sincerity and forgiveness. “It’s all right, Tō-chan. I’m Yondaime Hokage’s son, I can take it,” he finally said, beaming.  

Minato’s eyes blazed and before he knew it, Naruto was enveloped in a bone-crushing hug. Naruto’s arms faltered for a fleeting instant before they wrapped themselves around his father’s upper back tightly, as he buried his face in his shoulder.

“It’s good to have you home, son,” Minato said as he released him, leaving one hand on his shoulder. He turned to his left where Jiraiya stood and smiled at him. “Sensei, it’s good to see you.” Minato cocked his head to the left and grinned before adding, “You look old.”

Jiraiya snorted. “Cheeky Namikaze brats.”

Both Minato and Naruto smirked at him as the latter raised his ninja mask. Minato gave both of them appraising looks and said, “All right, let’s go my office; we have much to discuss. And we are going to start with you explaining me what’s with ‘The Great Naruto Bridge’ in Nami no Kuni. Ikuzo!”

Jiraiya guffawed as he saw father and son depart. “Let’s just say that thanks to that little fox, you will be able to feed him without fearing bankruptcy. And still have spare change to keep Konoha’s chests full.”

 

-OoOoOoOoO-

 

“What on earth was that about, Izumo?” Hagane Kotetsu asked his gatekeeper partner.

“I have no idea,” Kamizuki Izumo answered, completely baffled. “But Hokage-sama seemed pretty chummy with that cloaked person. I’ve never seen him that affectionate with anyone.”

“Well, it was Jiraiya-sama who brought that person, and we all know of his reputation,” Kotetsu said, giggling at the thought of the Icha Icha series. He scratched his chin pensively and added, “So perhaps Hokage-sama has a girlfriend. One of those exotic ones, by the looks of it. Like the ones who dance in gauzes and stuff.”

Izumo seemed to be contemplating that possibility. “That could be. However, she seemed to be a bit lacking up there, if you know what I mean,” he added, blushing.

And soon enough there were rumours all around the village about Hokage-sama building a harem of skinny, exotic wives.

Minato never knew how that piece of ridiculous gossip ever came to life.

 

 

 

 

End Notes:
A/N: Done, I hope you liked it. I’m trying to insert some humour in these chapters because there will be long bits of this story with basically no humour.
Special thanks to Silverwolf1213, for catching my mistakes. I’ve been spelling Jiraiya’s name wrong for months.
Thank you for reading.
Until next time,
Vermouth
A Father's Pain by Vermouth
Author's Notes:
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Naruto. It belongs to Kishimoto-sensei. If I did own it, you'd sure bet that I wouldn't let the main character waltz along in orange clothes. My, it's such an eyesore...

Chapter Two

A Father’s Pain

 

"Is that really Naruto?"

Naruto frowned and crossed his arms. "You know, Kakashi-nii-chan, I know that the slits in my eyes are quite creepy, but there's no need to look at me as if I were a dog that has rolled in something smelly."

Kakashi blinked. "I wasn't looking at you as if you had sprouted another head," he retorted defensively yet still 'hip', thank you very much. "Last time I saw you, you were this cute wide-eyed midget," he drawled, his eyes crinkling merrily at seeing Naruto fuming at the description of his younger self. "And look at you now!" he added dramatically, and then frowned, drawing his face close to Naruto's to get a better look. "Actually… What do you look like now?"

Naruto blew a raspberry at him. "I begged you time and time again to take that mask off when I was a kid, and you never did. Must be annoying to get a taste of your own medicine."

Kakashi narrowed his eyes at him. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours," he tried to bargain, but the moment those words left his mouth he instantly regretted it. Naruto had been spooked so badly that in his haste to get away from Kakashi, his hood fell and was now pressing his back against the wall furthest from him with such vigour the poor wall was starting to crack. "Er, that's not what I meant."

Naruto sweatdropped. "You need to broaden your literature tastes, you perv."

"They do really act like bickering siblings, eh, Minato?" said Jiraiya quietly in the background, amused at both Naruto and Kakashi's antics. Hearing no response from his old student, the Toad Sage turned to look at him, only to see Minato sitting behind his desk staring at his son with an unbridled, ferocious intensity, like a lion watching its prey's every move.

Jiraiya smiled in understanding.

"Tell me, Sensei," the Hokage said in a barely audible whisper, his eyes still fixed on his son, "Is he happy?"

The Toad Sage snorted. "Don't worry yourself about that, Pops. Nothing can keep the brat down," he retorted, grinning. "The kid's uncannily resilient."

"That is not what I meant, Sensei," Minato replied, in the same muffled tone. "I know he's resilient beyond imagination; he has to be, what with all the burdens placed on him," Yondaime murmured, an edge of self-loathing in his voice. Balling his fists, he continued, "What I need to know is whether despite that - despite the pressure and horrors he alone has to deal with - he finds it in his heart to feel happiness."

Jiraiya sighed. "There have been some black spots and difficult times in the past, Minato; there's no point in denying that – however… How to put this in words?" Jiraiya asked himself, bringing his hand to cup his chin. "However, Naruto is not the sort of person who allows bad things get to him. That means that instead of getting too antsy over something, he fuels his most negative emotions into determination and hope for the future," Jiraiya frowned. He really wasn't making a good job at soothing his former student's fears. "In looks, he is almost your carbon copy. Conversely, personality-wise, he most resembles his mother. He has her indomitable spirit."

That did the trick. Minato's hands instantly relaxed.

"Yeah, don't be too happy about that. Need I remind you that Kushina brought an epidemic of migraines to Konoha? Old Sarutobi-sensei never fully recovered from them."

Minato immediately paled at that and Jiraiya chuckled. "All right, you two," he addressed Naruto and Kakashi in a commanding tone, "Sit down. We've much to discuss."

Both of them obliged and sat down in front of the Hokage quietly, although Naruto was still sulking behind his mask in mock displeasure, his arms folded over his chest. Kakashi grinned and ruffled his hair. This of course only irritated Naruto further. "Why you -!"

Kakashi blocked Naruto's punch. "You know, I've been wondering," he started, drawing his face closer to Naruto's, effectively creeping him out. "You seem to have taken some of our most characteristic features," he pointed out. Pressing a finger against Naruto's covered nose, he proceeded, "That's my clothing style," he remarked and then moved his hand swiftly to the top of Naruto's head. "And that's your father's hairstyle; well, sorta – you do look like a mangy mutt, you know?" Kakashi had to block another punch. "So what have you taken from Master Jiraiya?"

Naruto huffed as he grasped one of the long locks that framed the sides of his face. "It's not as if I chose to look like this," he said quietly as he then moved to point a finger at the top of his impossibly spiky head, where two of his blond locks stood up longer and defying gravity, almost resembling the pointed ears of a canine. "I used to have much shorter hair. But after – that – both my eyes and hair changed."

Kakashi tilted his head to the left. "After what, exactly?"

Naruto sighed in weariness and scratched his eyebrow. "I faced the Kyūbi within me, and defeated it," he stated, ignoring the two surprised gasps. "It's not one of my fondest memories. I nearly lost my life and I did something… something unforgivable -"

"You had no choice, Naruto. The Kyūbi -"

"We will never agree on this point, Ero-Sennin," Naruto asserted, ending Jiraiya's interruption as he shook his head, a sad smile on his face. "After that, my appearance changed and I started resembling the Nine-Tails. My hair grew out like this, my pupils turned to slits and my canines grew sharper," he lowered his mask, only to expose a secondary mask that had a zipper that went from one jaw to the other. He unzipped it and revealed his mouth, opening it wide so they could see the razor-sharp, beast-like, a bit longer than usual canines. "As for this mask," he continued, zipping his fastener and raising his outer ninja mask, "Well, even with my fox-like looks, I do look too much like Yondaime Hokage."

Jiraiya grinned. "Personally, I think the feral look suits you. Minato here looks too much like a girl."

Naruto smiled as he watched his father narrowing his eyes threateningly at his old sensei, his stare promising torture. "As for Ero-Sennin," he pressed on, "As if I'd ever take anything from that degenerate. I can't and furthermore, I have no interest in copying his kekkei genkai."

Two pairs of eyebrows rose at that. "A kekkei genkai? I wasn't aware you had a bloodline limit, Sensei," Minato said, surprised.

Jiraya gritted his teeth. "I do not. The insolent brat calls my exquisitely inquisitive and scientific tendencies a bloodline limit."

Naruto huffed and waved his hand dismissively. "Call it whatever you like, you fiend. But it's impossible to be such a perverted freak unless it's a genetic condition."

Minato laughed in mirth.

"One of these days I'm going to make you appreciate my art," hissed Jiraya in annoyance.

Naruto smirked. "I told you, that crap won't work on me. I'm gay." *

Both Kakashi and Minato gawked at him, and Naruto couldn't help the blush that crept up his cheeks. Perhaps he shouldn't have pulled that joke in front of his father and Kakashi. He'd clear things up later with the other two and explain to them it was just a long-running thing between him and Ero-Sennin.

Minato cleared his voice, trying to dispel the awkwardness. "All right, let us discuss the matter at hand – the Kyūbi sealed within you," he said as he narrowed his eyes at Naruto. "The fact that you have come out of hiding means that both you and Jiraiya-sensei think you are ready enough. You both know that the rogue group called 'Akatsuki' is after the ones who contain the Tailed-Beasts," a dangerous flash crossed his eyes and he leaned over his paper-crammed desk. "I need to know everything."

Jiraiya and Naruto shared a look and the former nodded gravely. "This is of the utmost confidential nature. I'm going to seal the room. We cannot risk even the smallest possibility of someone overhearing this."

Naruto stood up and walked towards the window behind Minato and stared out at the village, angst and fatigue bearing down on him. Such a beautiful village, he thought, as he took in the sight of the snow-covered rooftops, shining brightly in the approaching darkness. He pressed his hand against the window as he felt the privacy and containment seals surround the Hokage's office. Gathering his courage, he turned around and leaned against the wall. Reviving the worst episodes of his life was not going to be easy.

Jiraiya walked up to him and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I know you don't like talking about this, Naruto. But it is time."

Naruto nodded grimly and went back to his chair. Shifting in his seat, he tried to reorganise his thoughts. "I guess there's no easy way to say this, so I'll just bite the bullet. The Nine-Tailed Fox is mostly dead."

Minato and Kakashi blinked. "Come again?"

Naruto sighed. "It all started a few years back, when Ero-Sennin and I were training so that I could control the Kyūbi's power. It goes without saying that was no simple task. At first, Ero-Sennin thought that by weakening the Eight Trigrams Seal slightly -"

"Sensei!" the elder blond cried in outrage, "What on earth were you thinking?"

Jiraiya pinched the bridge of his nose in weariness. "I admit, it was not the best idea I've ever had; but Minato, we always believed that Naruto could master the power of the Nine-Tails. Not only he is your son, but he also carries within him the unconceivable strength of the Uzumaki Clan. He is Kushina's son."

Minato's anger was not abated. "Be that as it may, the Nine-Tailed Fox -"

"Oyaji," Naruto cut in softly, "It's all right. Once was enough, we never tried that approach again," he stated and then stopped, turning to look out through the window again. He lifted an arm and placed it on the glass, leaning on his forearm. "That time, as soon as the fourth tail appeared, I lost my mind and nearly killed Ero-Sennin. After that episode, I basically gave up on the power of the Fox and decided to rely on my own strength. I chose to become powerful on my own.

“That incident happened when I was ten. Years later, Ero-Sennin and I found ourselves in the Land of Iron, where we found a man being attacked by what appeared to be an Akatsuki -”

“An Akatsuki?” Kakashi interrupted, aghast.

Jiraiya shook his head. “It wasn’t really an Akatsuki. It was some sort of jutsu where the original Akatsuki possessed the body of someone else and made that person fight in his stead. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever witnessed, which is saying something, considering I was friends with Orochimaru.”

“Who was it?” asked Minato.

“Hoshigaki Kisame at first,” answered Jiraiya, frowning. “But when we took him down, there was a dead man we had never seen.”

“Were you recognised?” enquired Minato warily.

The Gama-Sennin shook his head again. “No, we’ve been beyond careful all these years, and Naruto did not even show the slightest glimmer of demonic chakra. Nor did we use any characteristic justsus that could identify us.”

The village leader sighed in relief and rubbed his chest, leaning back on his chair. “Well, that’s one good thing.”

Naruto crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes, deep in thought as his shishō opened his mouth to continue with their tale. “We then spent a few days with the man we rescued, Sabu-san, helping him heal and wanting to know why he had been attacked by the pseudo-Akatsuki. Sabu-san was friends with the Eight-Tails Jinchūriki, so the Akatsuki look-alike wanted to fish out information on the Hachibi.”

Minato gasped, nearly falling off his chair. “The Eight-Tails Jinchūriki? Killer Bee?”

Naruto raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “You know him?”

The Hokage snorted. “I know him all right. Third Shinobi War,” he added in response to the curious glance his son was sending him. “We were enemies, but I liked him.”

Naruto beamed at him. “Good, because Konoha and I owe him,” he stated matter-of-factly, ignoring the bewildered look coming from Kakashi and the gobsmacked expression on his father’s face as comprehension began to dawn upon him. “Anyway, we stayed with Sabu-san and Ponta.”

“Ponta?”

The white-haired man groaned loudly. “Sabu’s companion. A massive raccoon that overdosed on steroids.”

“You just say that because Ponta didn’t like you,” Naruto retorted gleefully. “Smart raccoon. Knows a filthy pervert when he sees one.” Jiraiya sported a popping vein on his forehead, and Naruto then deemed that was enough teasing for the day. “So anyway,” he continued, oblivious to the amused looks he was receiving from both Kakashi and his father. “After a couple of days, Uncle Bee turned up; he wanted to improve his musical skills.”

Naruto shook his head, remembering Killer Bee’s peculiar musical abilities, if you could call them that. Anyone else with an ounce of sanity would call that a most terrifying brand of torture. “When Uncle Bee learnt that his friend had been attacked and saved by us, and then when we warned him of the existence of the Akatsuki and their plan to possess the power of all the Tailed Beasts, we began to form a sort of friendship.”

Minato’s eyes opened up like saucers. “Did Killer Bee teach you how to control the Nine-Tails?” he asked shakily, not daring to believe it.

Naruto grinned. “Sure did. He smuggled us into some bizarre island – well, it really wasn’t an island, more like a massive turtle that served as an island -”

Kakashi raised his hand. “You’ve lost me,” he admitted, the only visible eye rolling to the back of his head.

The elder blue-eyed shinobi scratched his scalp. “Killer Bee is the younger brother of the current Raikage and the host for the Hachibi. Not only that, but he’s what you would call the ‘ultimate jinchūriki’. He is in complete control of the monster sealed within him,” he explained, remembering the time when he fought him. “What I find completely mind-blowing is that he would be willing to help someone who is not from his village control a Tailed-Beast, a massive source of war power,” turning to Naruto, he asked, “How on Kami-sama’s green earth did you manage to do that?”

Naruto looked at his father as if he had sprouted another head. “I told you, we are friends.”

Jiraiya chose to be merciful on Minato and stepped in. “What you cannot possibly know, Minato, is that jinchūriki are not common people. Most of them have a deep loathing for human nature as they have been despised and vilified from the moment the beast was sealed within them,” he said grimly as he pulled up a chair and sat down. “However, both Naruto and Killer Bee have had people who have supported them no matter what,” he tried to clarify, even though such personalities still baffled him from time to time. “To deal with the massive amounts of hatred of the beast, they must in turn be extremely good people.”

Neither Minato nor Kakashi looked convinced, as the concept was pretty beyond them.

“Killer Bee was able to separate the mind of the Hachibi from its chakra, making it his own. By doing that, the beast eventually gained the intelligence it lacked before and the both of them established some sort of rapport. Killer Bee is able to utilise its chakra at will without harming himself, and take it to the highest level by transforming into the Hachibi without losing his mind.”

Even Kakashi looked impressed. Minato turned to look at his son shrewdly. “And you gained the same power?”

Naruto lowered his head, a flash of sadness crossing his eyes. “Not exactly. While I was able to take its chakra for myself and trap the mind of the Fox in a tighter, stronger seal, I could never transform into the body of the Fox,” he told them and then stopped. He tucked his hands into his pockets dejectedly. “No matter what I did, the Nine-Tails absolutely loathed me.”

                It was obvious to Jiraiya that neither Minato nor Kakashi understood why Naruto sounded so downtrodden. If he was honest with himself, he couldn’t totally grasp it either.

                The slit-eyed blond raised his head and tilted it sideways, absent-mindedly looking around the Hokage’s office. “I tried time and time again to do something about the hatred that the Fox bore, but nothing seemed to work. The Nine-Tails kept on raging inside my soul. The more time he spent without its chakra, the more infuriated it became. The more enraged it became, the weaker and more decimated iy got,” he added softly, more to himself than to the others. “Hatred consumed it to the point where just a skeleton remained.”

                Minato frowned. “That does sound like the Nine-Tails met its end, but it is supposed to be impossible for any mortal to kill a Tailed-Beast.”

                His son nodded gravely. “That is why I said that it is mostly dead. If I die or if it’s taken from me, then it will eventually come back, although severely crippled.”

                “What do you mean by that?” Kakashi asked, thinning his eye.

                Naruto rubbed his forehead. “I tried to destroy the skeleton, but I couldn’t. I just kept harming myself by doing that. So I took out its front and hinder legs and sealed them away.”

                “You did what?”

                “There’s no place safe enough to store those things!”

                “There is,” Naruto retorted, ignoring the disbelieving faces in front of him. “Mount Myōbokuzan. Separate secret locations and under the strongest seals imaginable.”

                Kakashi had to admit, that was a safe location. It still seemed idiotically foolhardy to him, though. “Are you positive that was a good idea?”

                Naruto nodded. “The Nine-Tails as it used to be won’t ever resurface again. And on top of that, I have a plan so that it won’t ever come back again in any shape of form.” Suddenly, the teenager glared as he growled out a firm, “Don’t.”

                Minato was perplexed by the harsh tone his son’s voice had unexpectedly taken, as well as the defiant expression in his eyes. He turned to look at the target of his son’s unexpected attitude, only to see a very miserable Jiraiya. He got the feeling that he was not going to like whatever Naruto had in mind.

                That feeling was confirmed the moment his son opened his mouth. “The second I sense my death is close, be that by natural means or at the hand of someone else, I will call forth the Shinigami and seal my soul away with the Nine-Tails forever.”

                “YOU WILL ABSOLUTELY DO NO SUCH THING!”

                There had been few times in his life when Namikaze Minato had raised his voice. He was a firm believer in self-control, as he used to say that the moment you lost it, it could only lead to forfeiting reason. However, to hear from his own son, his flesh and blood, that he intended to sacrifice his life and submit his soul to eternal torture was more than he could take. No father should have to hear such a thing from his child.

                Naruto smiled sadly at him. “I must, Tō-chan. The Tailed-Beasts do not belong in this world,” he said gently, grasping the hands that were clawing into his shoulders. He took them away carefully but did not instantly release them as he silently tried to soothe the father that was currently standing in front of him, grief etched on every inch of his face.

                Minato sunk his fingers into his messy locks, pulling at them forcefully, not noticing the golden hairs that were starting to fall down. Like a deadly snake, utter despair slithered up his face and crushed his windpipe, threatening to suffocate him.

What have I done?”

                Naruto approached his distressed father and placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s all right, Tō-chan. I’m not planning on doing that any time soon.”

                BAM.

Minato didn’t even feel a single thing after his fist punched a hole through his desk. Swiftly, he turned to his son and stared at his kind, young – much too young, he thought - face with wild eyes, unshed tears threatening to roll down his cheeks. His chest was hurting so painfully he thought he’d feel relief his heart was ripped out. His hands were shaking, and his throat had gone completely dry.

In a low raspy and broken voice, heart pounding erratically and eyes blazing he swore, “I will find a better way, if it’s the last thing I do. I promise.”

-OoOoOoOoO-

 

 

 

End Notes:
A/N: Naruto is not gay. It’s a joke. It’s difficult enough as it is to place my mind in the head of a teenaged ninja – it would be beyond impossible to try and think like a homosexual teenaged ninja. If I did that, it’d end up being a complete farce and I’d probably end up disrespecting any homosexual reader that might come across this story.
Well, I guess that this chapter is starting to show why I put “AU” (stands for Alternate Universe, for those of you who may not know it) in the summary. I have the annoying tendency of coming up with wild theories that very much deviate from canon, and I squash my brains to make them follow a logic path in my head. Can’t say that I always success at this, but I do try.
Some of you might not agree with the idea I had of “almost” killing the Nine-Tails, as it may sound very far-fetched. I can understand that.
Like I said, I do have a knack for coming up with wild theories, but I’m trying my damn best to create an original story.
Another complaint I thought might come up is the fact that Naruto said that he planned to call forth the Shinigami the moment he sensed his death drawing close. In canon, it says that not even the Shinigami could take up all the Nine-Tails chakra, which is why Minato sealed half of it within him. All right, I get that. However, the Shinigami is still able to chomp on more souls that contain varying amounts of chakra, so my guess is that either Kishimoto may have meant that it cannot take that much chakra in one go; or there is more than one Shinigami. Pick whichever you like.
In case you are wondering, yes, I’m making Naruto a powerhouse, but I’m not making him unbeatable. Not by a long shot. I’m not very fond of plots that have a supposedly omnipotent main character that somehow doesn’t manage to wipe the floor with medium-skilled bad guys. Another reason is that I want to deviate from canon as much as possible. Next chapter, “A Shinobi of the Leaf”, will show you some of the skills this Naruto has.
Well, that is all for now. I’m going to shut up already as I believe that long author notes are tedious and – dare I say it – troublesome.

Thank you, SilverWolf1213 for catching my mistakes. Your help was invaluable.

Until next time,
Vermouth
In the Darkness by Vermouth
Author's Notes:
I hope you will enjoy this chapter, I know I loved writing it. And as always, I do not own Naruto, Kishimoto-sensei does.

Chapter Three

In the Darkness

 

Night had fallen, and the black curtains had all been meticulously drawn. Not a single particle of light could penetrate the room. The darkness was so dense that it was impossible to see the calm rise and fall of the chest of a peacefully sleeping teenager. Nor was it possible to discern the silhouette of the silent compulsively shaking man who was crouching next to his bed.

                Minato wiped the moisture off his face with the back of his hand, gritting his teeth so there could be no chance of him waking up Naruto. He clenched his jaw and placed his palms on the wooden floor, hoisting himself to his feet as quietly as he could. He winced as he did so, realising a little too late that he had been still in the same position for too long.

                He stood motionless next to the sleeping form of his son, mesmerised by the sound of the even breathing pattern. He even managed to produce a small smile when Naruto started mumbling some nonsense about ramen and other types of food. But as soon as it appeared, it vanished.

                Minato balled his fists in anger as he crept soundlessly towards the door. He exited his son’s provisional room and closed the door softly, with the quietness of a trained assassin. Folding his arms behind his back, he leaned on the wooden surface. Minato raised his head and stared up at the dimly illuminated ceiling and let out a weary sigh. Suddenly, his eyes started to narrow and his upper lip began to curl, releasing an angry and frustrated growl.

                Determined, he glided through the corridor until he reached the almost empty living room. As he ran, he flexed his knees and propelled himself upwards. He bent his left arm backwards as he bared his teeth and pummelled the unsuspecting sofa in front of him with all his might.

                Immediately, he regretted his actions. Not only was his arm now stuck in the hole he had just created, but he had risked waking up Naruto. Heart pounding in his chest, he sharpened his ears, waiting to hear any sound coming from his son’s room.

                “It seems that not even an earthquake can wake him up. How very much like his mother,” he murmured, shaking his head as he freed himself from the sofa’s clutches in one swift move.

                Minato walked briskly towards the kitchen. He needed a large fix of his most characteristic vice. When in need, overdose on tea; that was Minato’s motto.

“Where is it? Where is it? Don’t tell me I went through all of it already -” he muttered almost frantically, ransacking the entire kitchen. “I found you!” he exclaimed in relief, as he held a metal box close to his chest. “Why don’t I have a Fire affinity? This would be so much faster if I had it,” he grumbled nonsensically as he waited for the water to boil, his left foot tapping the floor impatiently. He huffed in annoyance as he poured the steaming water into a pot and waited for the tea to colour it.

                He sat down on a high stool in front of the black marble table in the middle of the kitchen. He rested the side of his face on his left palm and extended his right index finger towards the pot. Infusing a small amount of his Wind chakra to its tip, he rotated it clockwise, the water falling in sync.

                Not for the first time in his life, he wondered what on earth possessed him to want the position of Hokage. If he hadn’t strived to reach that high, perhaps things wouldn’t have gotten to where they were. But then again, he thought, it could’ve been much worse.

                Thinking back on the little reunion for the umpteenth time, he got the feeling that Naruto hadn’t really believed him when he had made his promise of finding a better way to keep the Kyūbi from ever coming back. It was as if either his son truly did not mind sacrificing his soul, or as if he simply was resigned to that fate. The former option, Minato could neither accept nor understand. Perhaps it was a tad hypocritical coming from him, as he had been more than willing to forfeit his life and soul all those years ago to the Shinigami when Uchiha Madara attempted his coup. But it was one thing to surrender your own soul and a very different one to accept your child doing the same.

                He hated to admit it, but Naruto did have a point. But the fact was that that did not just apply to his son. Minato had heard about the kinjutsu Nidaime Hokage had developed, Edo Tensei or Impure World Resurrection. As far as he knew, the technique had not been revived, but he was not naïve enough to believe that there weren’t people out there foul enough to defile the memories and peace of those long gone. He shivered at the thought of legendary shinobi such as Shodaime and Nidaime Hokage being brought back to life in order to create a powerful force of immortals. If he was honest with himself, he knew he was more than skilled enough for the ruthless, amoral shinobi that prowled the lands to seek for the revival of his own soul long after he was gone. Needless to say, the effects could be devastating.

                The tea was already done, he realised, and he proceeded to pour some into a mug. He cupped it in his hands, relishing in its warmth, and sniffed it, its smell soothing him as always.

                He exhaled loudly. Perhaps Naruto hadn’t truly believed him when he had sworn he would find a better way. He wouldn’t say it again; but his child was truly young if he thought he would give up and let him do it. He also believed that Jiraiya-sensei would help him in this matter without a second’s hesitation. For his entire tough act, his old sensei truly loved Naruto.

                “What am I going to do with you, Naruto?” he asked himself absentmindedly, as he sipped his tea.

                There still were many things he wanted to know about his son, as their meeting had been cut short the previous day. What were his hobbies? What kind of books did he like to read? Did he have a girlfriend? Oh wait, Minato thought, turning into several shades of grey instantly. Naruto had said that he was into boys. Minato started hyperventilating. How on earth could he relate to his son and give him fatherly advice about romance? He didn’t know the first thing about courting other men. Not that he knew much about courting women, since it had been Kushina who kept pushing him. But still. At least in that case, Minato could have still said a couple of wise words and managed to look cool in front of Naruto.

                Minato wondered how it was that in the mere presence of his son, he was reduced to the mind of a silly teenager. Honestly, wanting to look ‘cool’… It had been so long since he had felt the need to impress someone, he couldn’t even remember it.

                It was silly, and yet, still refreshing.

                He stood up, mug still in his hands, and approached the balcony to his right. The sun was beginning to rise, staining the winter skies with a tinge of crimson.

                “You can come up, Tsunade-senpai.”

                A second later, accompanied by a slightly-scented swirl, the woman famed to be the most beautiful kunoichi alive stood in his kitchen in her jounin attire, an eyebrow arched and arms crossed over her chest. Despite her eternal defiant pose, Minato could read the expression behind her eyes. Something was wrong.

                “What is it?” he asked seriously, slipping into his Hokage-façade with uncanny ease.

                “The Sanbi has been captured. My team and I failed to seal it,” she said grimly.

                “Akatsuki?”

                Tsunade nodded curtly. “A team of two, composed of Deidara of Iwagakure and a man behind a swirling orange mask that goes by the name of Tobi,” she gritted her teeth, “I’m ashamed to admit it, but I have to acknowledge that I had expected too much out of my team. They weren’t ready.”

                Minato sighed and walked up to her, patting her on the back. “I’m positive that if you couldn’t do it, no one else could have, as there are precious few who have such mastery over chakra,” he reassured her, although he truly believed it. “Don’t blame yourself, Tsunade-senpai. I’m at fault here; I should have gone there with you. It was foolish of me to think the Akatsuki hadn’t figured out the location of the Sanbi.”

                Tsunade walked over to the nearest cabinet and picked one of his mugs. Turning towards him, she extended her index finger in the direction of the teapot, silently asking him for permission to pour herself a cup. Minato nodded instantly. Tsunade then went back to the cabinets, and Minato suddenly felt the urge to strangle Tsunade when he saw her defiling the tea by dropping sugar cubes in it.

                Unaware of Minato’s bizarre anger, Tsunade leaned back on the sink, a pensive look on her face. “The masked man bothers me.”

                Minato frowned. “What do you mean?”

                Tsunade bit her nails, a nervous yet angry tick that appeared every time something troubled her. “I cannot explain it, as I can make neither heads nor tails about it,” she furrowed her eyebrows in annoyance and then took a sip of her drink, “I could just feel it. It was like an echo from the past, like a resonance. Every single fibre of my being told me that man was a bigger threat than the rest of them.”

                Yondaime’s heart skipped a beat. Could it be…? After all that time, could it really be him? “Tell me,” he whispered, “Did you see his eyes?” he asked shrewdly.

                The Slug Princess shook her head. “That mask covered his entire face except for a small hole around his left eye, so it wasn’t easy to see it. On top of that, I was busy dealing with the blond terrorist twit,” she said as she narrowed her eyes at him. “Why?”

                Minato sighed and dragged himself to sit again on the stool. “Perhaps this is a bit far-fetched, but you may have encountered Uchiha Madara.”

                Tsunade blanched. “What? What makes you say that?”

                “Like I said, this may be a bit of a stretch, but you do know about the pseudo-mythical enmity between the Senju and Uchiha Clans; the inexplicable, unearthly drive to clash with each other -”

                “You can’t be serious, Minato…”

                Minato scratched the back of his head, abashed. On second thought, it wasn’t just fanciful, but downright paranoid. “Sorry about that. I’ve been stretched a bit too thin lately. And all the tension with the Uchiha Clan isn’t helping at all.”

                Tsunade placed her mug on the counter softly, her hard, determined trademark look leaving her eyes to be replaced by a soft, sympathetic one. She placed a hand on his shoulder and gripped it firmly. “Jiraiya filled me in.”

                “All of it?” he asked tiredly.

                She nodded grimly. “Don’t worry, kiddo. We’ll think of something. That brat is going to live a long life and become Hokage one day, just like you always wanted,” she said in determination, her eyes crinkled and a kind smile playing on her lips.

                He placed his hand on top of hers and gave it a small squeeze before releasing it. “Arigatō, Tsunade-senpai.”

                “Don’t mention it. Speaking of which,” she said, moving away, “where is the little horror?”

                “Still sleeping,” he answered as he glanced dejectedly at his now cold tea. “Although he should be up soon,” he added, nodding his head vaguely at the dawning skies. “We are going to test his skills today. You are more than welcome to come and watch.”

                “Oh? And who will he be fighting? Kakashi?”

                Minato grinned. “No, he won’t be fighting any of us, he knows us too well. Instead, it will be Uchiha Itachi.”

                She blinked. “You think that is wise?”

                Yondaime nodded. Standing up, he walked towards the sink and emptied the mug’s contents. “I have no doubts about Itachi-san. Furthermore, it would do him some good to gain a new friend, one who is impartial to the Uchiha Clan.”

                Tsunade did not press the matter any further, but it was clear to Minato from her rigid stance and narrowed eyes that she was not entirely convinced. It saddened him that she could not see beyond his last name. But then again, she did not know Itachi-san as well as he did.

                “Do you want to have breakfast with us? I’m sure Naruto will be happy to see you again.”

                She shook her head. “There’s a pervert tied to a wooden post that still needs to be dealt with,” she said cheerfully. Minato sweatdropped. His old sensei would never learn. “However,” she added, grinning in mischief, “since you said that he should be getting up soon, I might as well give him one of my trademark wake-up calls,” she finished, cracking her knuckles in anticipation.

                Minato groaned, resigned. There were some things that would just never change. But then again, there was a comforting edge to that familiarity, no matter if it had monstrous strength and wielded the capability of making him nervous, and if he was honest with himself, a bit scared.

                He dragged himself to the bathroom to wash his face. He was exhausted and drained beyond belief. Looking into the mirror, he realised that he looked awful. His skin was pasty and he had dark bags under his eyes. It was to be expected, though. After all, he hadn’t received a wink of sleep that night.

                “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

                A blond blur zoomed passed him, nearly knocking him over, as he was about to exit the bathroom. Turning to look at the direction in which the yellow bullet had come from, he saw a smirking Tsunade with her hands on her hips, looking very smug and pleased with herself. His heart went out to Naruto, it really did.

                “What’s the big deal, Baa-chan?” exclaimed Naruto, hands on his knees, panting lightly. “What the heck did you do that for?” he asked angrily, balling his fist in a threatening pose. Then again, perhaps he would have looked more imposing if he wasn’t in his pyjamas.

                Uh-oh, thought Minato. Now you’re done for.

                Surprisingly enough, Tsunade did not beat him to a bloody pulp for calling her ‘granny’, as Minato had feared. She simply glared at him, and he was relieved to know that he wouldn’t have to save his reckless son.

                “That’s what you get for coming back and not dropping by to say ‘hello’, you brat,” she retorted, walking in ample strides towards Naruto, who was already stepping back, apparently not wanting to push his luck. “Now come here and accept your punishment.”

                Naruto pressed himself against the wall, eyes open wide almost comically. “No thanks, you crazy woman. N-No, stay back! Stay back!”

                Tsunade kept smirking at him as she closed the distance between them. Naruto was sweating at a frightening intensity, leading Minato to believe that if this kept going on, he would lose his only son to extreme dehydration. Tsunade’s left hand went to her pocket, and she grinned evilly as she watched Naruto becoming more and more nervous, no doubt wondering what terrifying weapon he thought she was about to draw.

                Naruto nearly passed out when she saw her hand coming out of her hand only to reveal a – a handkerchief?

                “What’s going on?” he asked, bemused.

                Tsunade laughed as she wiped his forehead and then poked it with her finger, still grinning. “Silly boy,” she said, raising her other hand to cup his chin. She then lowered her head and kissed his forehead. “Welcome home, Naruto.”

                Naruto then gave a new definition to the phrase “to blush like a tomato”.

                Tsunade chuckled merrily. “Ja ne!” she said, before vanishing.

                Legs shaking, Naruto rose to his feet. “Man, pretty women are bad for my health,” he stated as he realised how badly he smelled; he wouldn’t be surprised if flies started zooming around him. “Oi, Tō-chan, mind if I take a shower?”

                “Go ahead. There are spare towels in the cupboard under the sink,” he answered, and then walked back towards the kitchen, thinking that it would be a good idea to make some breakfast for the two of them. After all, it was the first morning Naruto was home, so it ought to be something special.  Minato blanched. “But I have no idea how to make anything other than tea…”

                Truthfully, no matter how hard he had tried ever since that cursed night when he lost Kushina, for all of his incomparable skill in the field and brilliant mind, he had never been able to cook anything other than simple salads. And even those were a daunting task. He had the scars on his fingers to prove it.

                There were a few very embarrassing visits to the hospital to treat several burns and wounds – he’d never forget when the medics asked him how he had got such extensive injuries, all of them picturing some epic battle in their minds, only to look at him as if he had sprouted another head when he confessed he had been trying to cook something. After the seventh failed attempt, he all but gave up and chose to eat out or buy pre-cooked meals. He’d be damned if an oven were to become the one enemy to succeed in taking him down.

                “Oyaji, why are you sending killing intent to that toaster?” asked a confused voice behind him, snapping him out of his reverie.

                Naruto was standing there, donning a two-piece black nin-uniform, wet hair plastered to the sides of his face, and a clearly flummoxed expression. Minato scratched the back of his head, embarrassed at being caught in his plight. “Er, it’s nothing really. Say, what do you usually have for breakfast?” he asked warily, hoping his son wouldn’t be the kind of person who had a bottomless pit for a stomach.

                As soon as Naruto’s face brightened at the prospect of food, Minato knew he was doomed. His plan to impress his son was really going to the dogs.

                “Well, you shouldn’t have too much to eat, Naruto. After all, we are going to put your skills to the test right away,” he said hastily, showing the palms of his hands in a placating manner at either side of his chest.

                “Huh?” asked Naruto as he sat down in front of the black marble table.

                Minato nodded, inwardly pleased to see his son’s attention diverted from the thought of food. “Indeed. We need to know what you are capable of before giving you are proper rank.”

                Naruto grinned impishly. “Are you sure about that, Tō-chan? After all, I might amaze you all so much that you would just have to name me Hokage right away!”

                Minato smirked in return and ruffled his still wet hair. “Well, that’s a relief. I was hoping someone would take up on the job soon enough. I hate all that paperwork,” he teased before turning serious. “There is one thing I want to ask you, though.”

                “Hmm? What is it?”

                Minato exhaled loudly as he rubbed his neck, wondering which would be the best way to put his thoughts into words. “You are a younger version of myself, Naruto. Anyone who has seen my face would immediately make the connection between you and me,” he explained seriously before adding hastily, “I am not saying that I do not wish to acknowledge you as my son, for, believe me, I want to shout it from the rooftops -”

                “I know, Tō-chan, don’t fret,” he cut in, waving a hand dismissively. “I intend to keep both my mask and hood on during this test of yours. However, should the mask fall, I learned how to do this – now watch and be amazed!” he said enthusiastically as he closed his eyes tightly in concentration.

                Minato was wondering what he was supposed to be amazed at until he realised that his son’s hair had turned an electric blue. “What the -?”

                Naruto laughed. “If I focus a tiny bit of chakra into my head, this is what I get,” he said, and then furrowed his brow before smiling. “I haven’t managed to do the same with my eyebrows, they are still blond, but perhaps it’s for the best.”

                Minato arched an eyebrow at him and then shook his head. “Your mother would have been so proud of you just right now,” he muttered to himself.

                “What’s that?” Naruto asked, his eyes scanning the kitchen, his thoughts back to what really mattered: food.

                Minato’s face turned slightly green, remembering the past. “Nothing, nothing at all,” he said quickly, and his son just shrugged his shoulders and pulled himself off the stool, hunger etched on his face. Soon enough, Naruto was raiding his kitchen like a deprived hunter, the growls his stomach emitted so loud that Minato thought there would be a storm forecast in Sunagakure.

                “It took a while to do the blue hair thingy. I actually only managed to do it recently,” said Naruto distractedly, his hands moving at top speed in constructing what had to be the world’s largest – and most bizarre – sandwich. “I got the idea after I took control of the Kyūbi’s chakra. Turns out that when I tap into that energy, my eyes go red, my hair goes red, and I look much more like a demon-fox human than right now. Yeah, I know,” he added, misreading his father’s expression, thinking that Minato couldn’t even fathom him looking more inhuman than he already did.

                Of course, Minato’s thoughts revolved more around guilt and self-loathing than anything else, but Naruto was just too – too Naruto, to notice that. Many years into the future, he would eventually understand the meaning behind his father’s expression, when he himself would bear the same lines on his skin, lines of regret and self-doubt, intangible scars brought by the pain and burden of his own decisions. But that future had not yet come to pass, and for the moment, Naruto remained blissfully young.

                “So, what are you going to make me do on this test of yours?” he asked, as he held the obscenely huge sandwich in his hands, its countless ingredients threatening to spill. “I thought the Chuunin Exams weren’t taking place for several more months.”

                “That would be too flashy and too late. Apart from that, I suspect that you are way beyond the average Chuunin,” he said dryly. “There is also the fact that I intend to keep you as safe as possible, and displaying your skill for the whole wide world to see would be pretty much against that intention,” added Minato, shaking his head, as he tried to steer his gaze away from the sight of chocolate and pickles mixed together. “I intend to pit you against one of the best shinobi that Konoha has to offer.”

                Naruto, who had been in the process of opening his mouth to an impossible width, with bits of saliva rolling down his chin, halted in his actions immediately as a serious frown etched itself on his forehead. “And you trust this person?”

                Minato didn’t hesitate. “Yes, I do.”

                “All right, that’s good enough for me,” he stated, devouring his most revolting snack in the blink of an eye. He gave out a contented sigh and rubbed his belly. “So, shall we get a move on?”

                Minato nodded, “Ikuzo!”

                Naruto followed his father readily as they hopped from rooftop to rooftop through the snow-covered village, his forearm protecting his eyes from the early winter sun. Never slowing his pace, Naruto watched transfixed as the community of Konohagakure shook off the remnants of the night with a healthy growl. The early risers that inhabited the shinobi town exited their homes and got lost in the winds of the town, twittering with the customary hustle and bustle of a lively village. Billows of smoke rose from the chimneys, carrying with them the scent of wood and bread and just – home.

                “Mesmerising, isn’t it?” Minato asked softly, looking at Naruto from the corner of his eye, smiling proudly at his son’s wonder. 

                “Yeah, it is,” answered Naruto absentmindedly, almost slipping on the thin ice that coated some of the tiles.

                “You’ll have all the time in the world to explore it later, Naruto. C’mon, we are almost there.”

 

End Notes:
Thank you, SilverWolf1213, for your outstanding beta skills.

This chapter was originally around ten thousand words' long, but I cannot post it as it is, I have had to split it into two halves as this site doesn't allow such huge chapters. I do apologise. I'll post the other half - my favourite part - soon.

Until nex time,
Vermouth
A Shinobi of the Leaf by Vermouth
Author's Notes:
I do wish I owned Naruto, but alas, it was not meant to be. I hope you'll enjoy the chapter.

Chapter Four

A Shinobi of the Leaf

 

They reached ‘there’ quicker than Naruto had thought. The site where his skills would be evaluated was graced with the presence of several ANBU shinobi, a beat-up Jiraiya that sort of resembled a purplish-blue Dalmatian, a popping-vein-on-forehead Tsunade, and the ever porn-reading Kakashi, who was leaning nonchalantly on a metal fence, a sign to his right stating that beyond the grille lay an ominous ‘Forest of Death’. Naruto couldn’t have possibly known, but a Konoha shinobi exam wouldn’t be an exam if the Forest of Death was not involved at some point.

                Naruto scowled at his father. “I thought this was going to be a test, not some freak circus attraction.”

                Minato actually managed to look somewhat apologetic. “Sumimasen. Couldn’t resist it. If it’s any consolation, most of the ANBU gathered here are to provide security to the area,” he explained, trying to appease his grumbling son.

                “So, ready for the big test, brat?” asked the purplish-blue Jiraiya, patting Naruto on the back. That wasn’t the wisest course of action the perverted sage had ever taken, as he winced immediately after the gesture. Tsunade was very thorough when she put herself to the task of beating up her old teammate.

                “Sure, if I were a stripper. All this attention is wrecking my nerves,” Naruto said bitingly, comforted by the fact that at least Kakashi still had his eyes glued to his little porn books. At least some things never change. “Seriously, this feels like some sort of parade. Am I supposed to start doing cartwheels or juggling apples?”

                “He’s a teenager. Difficult phase,” said Jiraiya to Minato, somewhat exasperated. “They don’t make too much sense at this point. Life’s just one big drama after the next.”

                Yondaime snorted. “Believe me, I know,” he retorted, sending a cursory glance at Kakashi.

                “Don’t get all high and mighty, oh fearless Yondaime Hokage,” grinned Jiraiya maliciously. “After all, I still remember your dreadful puberty years as well as your most bizarre childhood, when everyone thought you were a girl. Ah! That barmy old hag at the orphanage used to dress you in frilly dresses and parade you, ‘the prettiest orphan girl of Konoha’ all around the village. Your face back then – priceless,” Jiraya snickered, completely oblivious to the asphyxiating killer intent Minato was exuding.

                “WILL YOU TWO IDIOTS STOP IT ALREADY?” snarled Tsunade, her fist raised and glowing with chakra.

                “Perhaps you should leave the reminiscing for later…” said Naruto, scratching his masked chin bemusedly, trying to get the image of his father in a dress out of his head. Forget all the Kyūbi-induced trauma, that mental image was by far the most scarring thing he’d ever had to deal with.

                It seemed that Tsunade’s firecracker personality was good enough to bring the men back to the matter at hand, and soon enough, after the Hokage gave the order, the ANBU shinobi gathered there dispersed – all except for one.

                Naruto cocked his head to the left, staring curiously at the ANBU in front of them, guessing that this was the shinobi he would have to fight in order to prove his skills. The ANBU’s appearance was completely nondescript: male, dark long hair in a loose ponytail, about an inch or so taller than him, his face hidden behind an animal-like mask that could have depicted anything between a weasel and a pterodactyl. Naruto scratched the back of his hooded head. In all honesty, those masks baffled him. However, what did stand out about the otherwise seemingly unremarkable shinobi was the long wakizashi strapped to his back, which could only mean that his opponent was a kenjustu expert.

                Naruto groaned. His kenjustu skills were abysmal. If the ANBU he would be facing turned out to be a genjutsu genius too, father or not, Namikaze Minato would be at the end of his most infamous left hooks.

                He was startled by Kakashi, who had snapped his fingers in front of his face to pull him out of his morose reverie. “We’re going in,” he said succinctly.

                The Forest of Death had been aptly named, Naruto thought. The trees were beyond wide and tall, cloaking the skies above with their dark leaves, their branches gnarled and warped, as if they were warning any entries against getting any closer or they would happily strangle those who dared to come near. Even the smell that saturated the air seemed to be able to make the lungs collapse; so thick, hot, and moist it was that Naruto could’ve sworn that each time he breathed in, large amorphous chunks were slithering up his nostrils and rolling all the way down to his trachea.

                Naruto sighed as he hopped over a massive root. He really ought to stop coming up with such disturbing mental images, lest his poor brain decide one day it had had enough and went into a vegetable state.

                The company marched in silence with the Hokage leading them and Kakashi bringing up the rear into the heart of the forest at a steady pace, only stopping for a moment when the Hokage halted to activate several kekkai fūinjustu that would hide them behind a temporary set of wards. As he did this, Naruto cast a sidelong glance at the masked ANBU, trying to read his body language. If the shinobi was surprised at the precautions the Hokage was taking, he didn’t show. Naruto, however, thought that the ANBU must have been inwardly rattled, as it was not a normal procedure to use an ANBU to test an aspiring Leaf shinobi, much less have the Hokage present and placing barriers around.

                Still, Naruto reckoned that said ANBU must have made quite an impression on his father to trust him with what probably was one S-rank secret after the next. Oh, he was curious, all right…

                “How come there are no animals around?” Naruto asked, bewildered. In such a daunting and gloomy forest, the teenager expected to find at least some obscenely huge and vicious creatures around.

                The masked ANBU, who had been walking a couple of feet ahead of him, cleared his throat. “The area we entered through is mostly clear of autochthonous fauna, as animals tend to avoid it. One of our tokubetsu jōnin uses this section of the forest to train herself quite regularly, and even the most mindless beast that dwells here is wise enough to keep away from her,” he explained with an unexpectedly grave and friendly voice.

                Kakashi placed a hand on Naruto’s shoulder, as his face appeared above it, giving him one of his trademark one-eye-crinkled smiles. “Ah, Mitarashi Anko, our local dominatrix,” he butted in good-naturedly. Raising a finger as if he were about to give a lecture, he continued, “Whenever you meet her, be warned: if you talk about Orochimaru – you are dead. If you mess with her dango – you are dead. If you ask her out – you are dead. Poor Shiranui Genma knows this last one only too well,” he said nonchalantly, still smiling, as if he were just discussing the weather in Hi no Kuni.

                Naruto gulped. Why did women have to be so violent?

                “Foolish little lovebird,” the ANBU said, not without a hint of amusement in his otherwise stoic voice, “As if their mutual hatred of Orochimaru meant they were destined to be together.”

                “Ma, ma. No need to sound so mean,” said Kakashi, his palms up in a conciliatory manner.

                Shortly after that, the Hokage, still at the head of the group, stopped in his tracks. “This is far enough,” concluded Minato. He spun on his heels and raised his left hand, beckoning Naruto and the ANBU with his finger, who immediately obliged as Jiraiya, Tsunade, and Kakashi took a step back, soon disappearing into the forest.

                “We will begin this test shortly. However, a few things first,” said Minato, a serious look on his face. “This is a trial to test our newest addition’s skills. Therefore, anything goes. That being said, I’d appreciate if you didn’t kill each other,” he added, without the tiniest bit of amusement in his voice. Turning his eyes to look at Naruto, he fixed a stern gaze upon his son, looking nothing like his father and everything like the supreme commander he was. His tone and face were stern, leaving no room for nonsense. “Naruto, Itachi-san here is one of my most trusted and capable shinobi. His identity as an ANBU, his skills, fighting mannerisms, or any weakness you might find are not to be discussed with anyone outside this group. Understood?”

                “Aa, wakata,” retorted Naruto seriously.

                Minato nodded before turning to Naruto. “Itachi-san, same goes with you. Anything you learn about Naruto is to be treated as an S-rank village secret.”

                Itachi bowed his head. “Hai, Hokage-sama.”

                “Very well then, I shall take my leave. Jiraiya, Tsunade, Kakashi, and I will be watching the two of you, and we will not interfere.” Minato nodded, and he shot them a couple of piercing glances, satisfied that his words had sunk in. As an afterthought, he added, “However, your assessment of his prowess, Itachi-san, will also be taken into consideration, as the four of us are a bit biased towards our new comrade,” he finished, before disappearing in a whirlwind of leaves.

                Naruto turned to Itachi-san, wanting to ask him how to proceed, only to find a vacant spot where the ANBU had been previously standing. He blinked, stunned at his opponent’s silent retreat.

                He’s good, he mused. He’s going to keep me on my toes. I’d better be careful.

                Pumping a bit of chakra to his legs, he jumped onto the nearest sturdy-looking branch. Crouching, with his right hand on the knotty bark of the trunk, he hid himself amongst the moist leaves. He narrowed his eyes, trying to extend his advanced sense of smell and hearing – grâce au Kyūbi - to discern whether the other shinobi was close to his location or not.

                He was no professional tracker like one of those clans that had ninken as their closest partners, but it was still pretty hard to fool his senses in a pretty decent radius. But then again, Itachi-san was a high-ranked ANBU; underestimating him would be foolish and costly. Unable to perceive anyone, Naruto pulled his hands together and formed a cross hand-seal with the index and middle fingers of both hands. “Tajuu Kage Bunshin no Jutsu!”

                Instantly, about thirty copies of himself materialised out of thin air, all of them spread and huddled in the surrounding trees.

                “Scout the area, look for the guy if you can, but first and foremost, search for traps. I have the feeling that he’s one heck of a cunning and sneaky shinobi,” he ordered his serious-looking clones in a grave voice. “One of you, stay with me and gather shizen energy. San!”

                All the clones scattered faster than you could say “Rasengan,” sudden gust of wind hitting Naruto’s face as they did. He gave a nod to the one next to him, and his doppelganger sat down, balancing himself into a meditating position.

                Naruto remained vigilant in his spot, covering for the clone that was gathering the natural energy he needed for his Sage Mode. Using senjutsu would be the quickest and safest way to find Itachi-san. He could accumulate the shizen energy he needed all by himself, but if he did that, bearing in mind that senjutsu required deep meditation, he would be susceptible to an attack. Even if he had a clone defending him, it wouldn’t matter, as they weren’t as resilient as the original. In fact, Naruto believed that Kage Bunshin was not a combat move, but a reconnaissance technique of sorts.

                Just then, he heard a loud explosion in the distance and felt the memories of two of his clones slither into his mind. He had been right, that Itachi guy was one heck of a sneaky bloke. The other shinobi had caught two of his replicas in a well-formed trap of kunai and paper bombs. The clones were able to dodge the weapons without any hassle and escaped the brunt of the explosion, but the shockwave that came subsequently was enough to make them explode.

                He frowned slightly. Had he not been using his clones and had his skills been any lower, those traps might have done him in. But then again, he reasoned, Itachi-san must have thought that they wouldn’t have used an ANBU shinobi to test a wannabe Leaf ninja if his abilities were on par with a genin.

                His eyebrows shot up as more images filtered through his brain, coming from clones that had popped. It seemed that he was not the only one using Kage Bunshin, as he had received the recollection of three fights in different locations. He smiled faintly; his doppelgangers sure did know how to squeeze information before they burst. He now knew that his opponent was capable of water and fire releases and was very proficient at genjutsu. Itachi-san was fast, skilful, and did not waste any time with the usual derogatory banter that normally took place among two opponents. Naruto smirked; while he had been getting information on his adversary’s abilities, Itachi-san hadn’t gotten anything about him, as his clones were only dodging instead of attacking.

                There was no one better at using Kage Bunshin than Namikaze Naruto, if he said so himself. He felt the urge to pat himself on the back, but he resisted the impulse. Ero-Sennin was watching him after all, and Naruto knew only too well how much the old pervert liked to embarrass him.

                “There are four – no wait, three of him,” a voice to his let said, startling him. “One of us has just taken a clone down.”

                Naruto turned to his replica, who was still in a meditating position and in full Sage Mode. “How many of us are left?”

                “About ten – no, eight.”

                “Any of them fighting now?”

                “All of them,” answered his clone, his eyebrows stitched together in a frown. “One of them is taking them out fast. I’m guessing that is the original one.”

                Naruto nodded. “All right, we’re leaving,” he said commandingly, rising from his huddled position, his knees cracking uncomfortably. “I need you to pinpoint the location of the one you believe is the original. And stay a distance behind me; don’t get mixed into the fray.”

                “Ossu!”

                Soon enough they were on the move, jumping from branch to branch. Looking over his shoulder, Naruto was pleased to see that his clone was nowhere in sight and had taken his words seriously. He only had one of his Kage Bunshin gathering shizen energy, he wasn’t about to have it dispelling at a bad time. He wondered whether he should create another two or so clones to protect the other one, just in case.

                Naruto grunted. This forest was a suffocating, never-ending maze. Even the upper branches seemed to be participating in the construction of the claustrophobic labyrinth, the twisted limbs contorting themselves and snaking around each other until a leafy canopy was formed above, blocking any sunlight from reaching the ground. 

                “Katon: Gōkakyū no Jutsu!”

                Naruto dived to the ground, dodging the great fireball that currently encased the unsuspecting tree that had been next to him in a haze of flames. The flames consumed the leafy ceiling above, allowing some sunlight to filter through.

Crouching, his left fingers kneaded the wet grass as his right hand shot straight to his leg-pouch, drawing a kunai out.

                Itachi-san was standing right in front of him, still as a rock. Naruto had to give it to him, the other shinobi excelled at stealth. Naruto rose to his feet; knees bent, he placed his right leg in front of his left limb, an ample space between them.

                “I wonder; are you a Kage Bunshin, or are you the original?” Itachi-san asked calmly.

                Naruto shrugged. “Beats me. Guess you’ll just have to find out,” he retorted offhandedly before springing at him.

                Itachi-san drew out his wakizashi immediately, just in time to block the kunai that Naruto sported four inches away from his face. “You are fast,” he complimented.

                “And you have good reflexes,” Naruto commented before rotating his hips to the right, his left leg rising to place a well-aimed kick on Itachi-san’s head. Itachi crouched speedily beneath Naruto’s limb, his sword aiming for Naruto’s right leg, who immediately lifted and bent it in mid-air, ready to lay a heel kick on Itachi-san’s shoulder.

                His foot, however, connected instead with the ground, leaving a nice dent in it. Itachi-san had used the Shunshin no Jutsu to teleport himself.

                “Katon: Hōsenka no Jutsu!”

                Without thinking, Naruto bent his knees and pushed forcefully against the earth below, using a bit of his chakra to soar, avoiding the volley of unpredictable medium-sized fireballs that had been aimed at him. Unfortunately, Naruto remembered that “Fire Style: Art of the Dragon’s Breath, Phoenix Technique” was a jutsu that created flames that were directed and controlled by the user, which meant that he had no other option but to counter them. So much for keeping his abilities a secret as long as possible.

                Almost reluctantly, he brought his hands together: dragon, tiger, hare. “Suiton: Mizurappa!” he yelled before blowing out a small waterfall from his mouth, putting out the flames that were coming his way, effectively cancelling Itachi-san’s technique. The fact that he had also soaked his opponent – who was looking like a disgruntled wet cat - was just an added bonus.

                “You have a Water nature,” Itachi-san stated from his branch.

                Naruto smirked, still in mid-air. “You have Fire and Water natures.”

                “You are the original,” Itachi-san asserted. “You are using ninjutsu, unlike before.”

                “And you are a clone,” Naruto retorted as he landed deftly on the ground.

                Naruto knew it was almost impossible to differentiate a clone from the original, unless you were as proficient at Kage Bunshin no Jutsu as he was. They were exact replicas, with the same smell, same abilities, and same quirks. Able to mould chakra and perform the same techniques as the original. However, clones could either be completely reckless (like the scouting ones Naruto had created before) in order to get information, or they would restrain themselves and keep their distance, avoiding contact at all costs and resorting to mid to long-range attacks. Naruto knew that Itachi-san had to be competent at kenjustu, a short-range type of combat, yet he had been keeping a wide gap between them at all times. Naruto concluded that the clone was trying to keep himself from dispelling by staying away from him and tapping into his ninjutsu abilities.

                Smart, no doubt. But Naruto was devious.

                However, he didn’t have the luxury of sparing any more of his time on a clone. Swiftly, he grabbed two smoke bombs and chucked them, a wall of impenetrable purple fog rising swiftly to obscure his view. He propelled himself upwards with a powerful jump and out of the smoke dune he had created. Without stopping to catch his breath, he extended his right arm, palm open wide facing the skies above as his left hand gripped his right wrist tightly. Almost without needing to spare a single thought on it, his father’s trademark ultimate chakra manipulation technique materialised in his palm.

                He knew where the clone was. The doppelganger hadn’t moved, which seemed a bit odd to him. He would try to figure it out later, but now –

                “RASENGAN!”

He knew he had made contact before the smoke was blown away, he had felt the clone dispelling the moment the Rasengan had touched it. Coughing slightly due to the amount of purple gas that had leaked into his lungs, he sprinted away, looking forward to breathing fresh air again. As soon as he got out of the thick, vaporous sphere, he spotted his clone on a tree branch, who had got rid of his facemask and happened to be sporting a superior smirk on his face.

“You know, you are completely addicted to that technique,” said his clone, looking at him with mock-worried Sage eyes. “Perhaps you should go to rehab.”

Naruto snorted. “I’m not that infatuated with it.”

The Kage Bunshin looked at him as if he had sprouted another head. “You use the Rasengan to make orange juice.”

Naruto shrugged. “It’s very effective.”

The clone blinked. “You use it in your sleep, resulting in countless destroyed walls and heaps of money wasted on the repairs.”

Naruto grunted. “Fine, fine. I get it. I like the Rasengan a bit too much,” he admitted grudgingly. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he asked briskly, “Can we please get a move on?”

His replica chuckled. “Itachi-san has dispelled the other clone he had left. He’s about fifteen minutes away, two o’clock.”

Naruto nodded, determined, as he hopped onto the nearest branch. “Ossu! Let’s get this over and done with. Ero-Sennin said the ramen in Konoha is the best!” 

As he hopped from tree branch to tree branch, he wondered idly about the location of Ero-Sennin, Kakashi, his father, and Tsunade-Baa-chan. His Bunshin in Sage Mode hadn’t uttered a word about them, so either he hadn’t consider it relevant – after all, his father had said that they wouldn’t interfere – or perhaps the Hokage had placed a barrier strong enough to bypass the chakra-sensor ability he gained when he tapped into senjutsu. If anyone could do it, it would be Yondaime Hokage, he thought, not without a hint of pride. His dad was badass like that.

“Whoa, what happened here?” he asked himself, eyes wide open like saucers.

He had just reached a clearing, for a want of a better word. Instead of the dense, choking woodland he’d grown used to, the wide area ahead of him was completely barren. There were none of those abnormally healthy trees that somehow managed to spring an almost infinite number of leaves in mid-winter. If fact, the only thing left of them were some charred trunks and uprooted trunks piled sadly on the snow-coated earth.

He shook his head, snapping himself out of his reverie. He didn’t have the time to ponder about something as inconsequential as that. It may have even been the work of the tokubestu jōnin he’d heard about before. Sparing the sterile section one last glance, he continued on with his pursuit. However, he did make a mental note not to anger that tokubetsu jōnin. If she was capable of wreaking such havoc while training, she had to be one heck of an aggressive woman.

It seemed like an eternity had passed before he heard the sibilant sound of a weapon whizzing towards him, aiming for his neck while he was still in the air between one tree branch and the other. Effortlessly, he tilted his head to the left and smirked as the flying kunai zoomed past him, missing him by an inch. That Itachi-san guy sure had an excellent aim, to be able to shoot a moving target with perfect accuracy, he thought as he landed on another branch. He tried to hide his body from the direction the kunai had come from, but chances were that Itachi-san had already moved from his previous location.

                “Katon: Gōkakyū no Jutsu!”

                Naruto plummeted once again to the ground, dodging the sphere of flames. As he landed, he watched indolently as the fireball burned a couple of trees to a crisp.

                “Same technique as before, huh?” he drawled. “Hokage-sama is going to be miffed that you are so merrily roasting this forest.”

                The masked ANBU sprung into view, settling for a spot about thirty feet away from Naruto. Lazily, he leaned on the tree next to him and crossed his arms over his chest. “Hokage-sama is an avid fan himself of happily wreaking havoc in this forest whenever he comes here to train, so I doubt I will get a scolding,” he said confidently. “However, the same cannot be said for the one shinobi able to grow trees, who is being worked to the bone in this village.”

                Naruto gaped at him. “There’s a Mokuton user in Konoha?”

                Itachi-san nodded. “Aa, there is. You’ll probably meet him at some point, as he and Kakashi-senpai work together often.”

                “But how?” Naruto asked, bewildered. His mind was running a mile a minute, ‘Senju Hashirama’, ‘affair’, and ‘secret-love child’ popping into his brain.

                The ANBU shrugged. “That is not my story to tell,” he replied offhandedly as he uncrossed his arms and stood straight. “In any case, that’s neither here nor there. Katon: Haisekishō!”

                Naruto, who was still pondering about the illicit love-life of Shodaime Hokage, was caught unaware in a massive cloud of ash. He realised instantly he wouldn’t have enough time to get out of it before the gunpowder ignited.

                He cursed himself for getting distracted. There was only one thing he could do in order to avoid some very nasty burns that would take some time, even for him, to heal. Cursing himself one last time for needing to use his greatest defence so early in the game, he tapped into the Kyūbi’s chakra and let the insane flames surround him.

                Whatever technique Itachi had expected his opponent to use to escape from his fire jutsu was most definitely not what he saw in front of him. To say that he was shocked would be putting it mildly, just like it would be a gross understatement to say that Jiraiya was only a bit perverted.

                Ahead of him was Naruto-san. Or at least, he thought it was. He could see that the legs and arms were just like they were before, although perhaps the clothes that covered them were a bit worse for the wear. However, his chest was surrounded by a solid-looking animal-like white ribcage, and his head was encased in a canine-looking skull, the whole ensemble bizarrely fitting his body perfectly.

                Itachi activated his Sharingan immediately, thankful that Naruto-san was giving him some time while he coughed. He could see red chakra surrounding the entirety of his opponent’s form. The skeleton, minus the four limbs, was complete: the skull, the ribcage, the vertebrae, the hips, and then springing from the end of his back were the skeletal forms of nine tails. A shiver ran down his spine.

                Itachi’s red eyes opened comically. “You are the Kyūbi no Yōko’s jinchūriki,” he sputtered, not daring himself to believe it.

                Naruto coughed. “And you might have just given me lung cancer,” he groaned as he released his hold on the Demon Fox’s chakra, the protective skeleton vanishing instantly as his eyes slowly turned from crimson back to their usual blue.

                “No wonder Hokage-sama said anything about you would be an S-rank secret,” Itachi said, still shocked.

                “You don’t know the half of it,” Naruto retorted casually. “However…” he drawled, leaving his tone hanging as he drew out two kunai, clapped his hands together and gathered his chakra. “Futon: Reppūshō!” he hollered, a forceful gale with kunai embedded in it bursting forth from his now separated hands.

                Itachi-san, however, was not as easily distracted as Naruto was, not even by an earth-shattering revelation. “Katon: Gōkakyū no Jutsu!”

                “Suiton: Bakusui Shōha!” Naruto countered, resorting to a B-ranked water jutsu in order to douse the massive sphere of fire that was hastily threatening to engulf him. A colossal amount of water burst forth from his mouth, shaping itself into a mini-tsunami and putting out the fire instantly.

                “You are very proficient at Water Release,” Itachi-san complimented him behind a cracking mask, thanks to Naruto’s water jutsu.

                “Wind is my primary affinity,” Naruto confessed, panting. “I just have insane amounts of chakra.”

                “I can attest to that,” Itachi-san replied wryly.

                Naruto pursed his lips beneath his mask. “One thing’s been bothering me, though,” he stalled, as he regained his breath. Huge reserves or not, that jutsu was taxing. “I know you are good at genjutsu. How come you haven’t used any yet?”

                Itachi-san forfeited his beyond-repair mask and arched at thin eyebrow at Naruto. “I thought it would be obvious,” he countered, “You are a jinchūriki; therefore, most genjutsu will not work on you. The highest rank of illusions might, but those take time, and since I do not have any comrades backing me up, you’d strike me before I got the chance to complete it,” he explained calmly.

                Naruto nodded. That made sense. Just then, he noticed something he hadn’t seen before, perhaps because his opponent’s face had been obscured by the ANBU mask. “You are an Uchiha,” he said matter-of-factly.

                Itachi-san did not comment on Naruto’s statement, he only gave him a simple bow.

                But he was not quick enough. Naruto saw the slight frown that marred his face. It made him wonder.

“Pleasantries aside…” At an almost blinding speed, too fast for Naruto’s eyes to follow, Itachi-san performed the hand seals for a new jutsu and cried, “Suiton: Ja no Kuchi!”

                Naruto grinned as a large serpent made of water aimed for him, its jaws open wide and ready to swallow him whole. Which would be the case was it not for the fact that he knew that jutsu. Not only did he have incredible chakra reserves, but he was fast at forming hand seals. “Suiton: Ja no Kuchi!”

                Before the two liquid serpents collided and cancelled each other out, he was already on the move. Bringing his index and middle finger to his mouth, he whispered, “Ninpō: Kirigakure no Jutsu!”

                Taking advantage of the ample amounts of water that formed the two snakes’ bodies, Naruto turned Itachi-san’s and his own previous techniques into the Hidden Mist Jutsu, a skill that was supposedly able to counter the eyes of an Uchiha, although it could not fool the Byakugan.

                “Wise move against a Sharingan user, Naruto-san. However, that jutsu will not work on me. I have keener eyes than most of my clan,” Itachi-san declared serenely.

                Naruto wasn’t sure whether to believe that statement or not, until, that is, he had to dodge a blade that would have otherwise cheerfully cleaved his skull in two. Frantically, he realised that while his face was safe, his face-mask and hood were torn up. Losing the concentration needed for the Hidden Mist Technique, his hands formed the ram seal unwittingly and unwillingly…

                 Itachi-san blinked as soon as the chakra-infused mist vanished. He blinked again.

"Pardon me, but I have to ask. Up to this point, I've thought that while unorthodox, your tactics made sense. However, this technique is completely beyond me. May I ask why you think transforming into a naked female would be a wise strategy against an ANBU captain?"

Naruto swore. He could hear Ero-Sennin's roaring laughter a mile away.

“Sorry, it’s a reflex,” Naruko answered, embarrassedly. “You know that I’m the container of the Kyūbi, so I guess it’s a moot point to keep my face secret,” she said before vanishing with a soft poof, only to be replaced by Naruto-san’s facemask.

Itachi-san blinked again. Spiky blond hair. Steel blue eyes. Never mind the slits and the whisker marks on his cheeks. There was no doubt about it. “You are related to Yondaime-sama,” he said without the smallest inflection of uncertainty.

Naruto nodded sheepishly. “Yeah, I’m his son,” he admitted, scratching the back of his head, grinning awkwardly.

“I could’ve killed you earlier,” Itachi-san sputtered, his mind connecting the dots. “I could’ve killed Hokage-sama’s child.

Naruto scowled immediately at the word “child” and was about to give a nice, waspish comeback before he noticed that Itachi-san was nearly in a comatose state. “Oh, hey, no worries! Don’t fret! Tō-chan wouldn’t have made me fight you if he didn’t think I was good enough!” he tried to placate him, hands waving around erratically. “Oy! Oy! C’mon, snap out of it!” 

Had Itachi-san been hospitalised at that very precise moment, the medical staff would have had the shock of their lives at seeing a patient recover from an almost flat-encephalogram state in the span of two minutes and without any after effects.

“You are right,” he admitted, regaining his normally stoic composure. Brandishing his sword in front of him, he said, “Let us proceed.”

Naruto groaned inwardly. He just wasn’t good enough at kenjustu. Besides, he was getting very, very hungry. Oh well, time to end this, he thought, amused as Itachi-san began to move towards him.

Itachi-san saw Naruto-san sporting a foxy smirk. Even Itachi could admit to himself that was a very bad pun considering the circumstances.

Naruto parried Itachi-san’s first strike with a kunai. Despite the whirring sound that signalled his rival’s second attack, Naruto closed his eyes briefly and focused. He didn’t need to see it, he could feel it. Extending his arm, he grasped the wakizashi around its middle and crushed it.

Itachi-san did not have enough time to process the fact that as soon as Naruto-san wore some bizarre orange eye shadow, he acquired the necessary brute strength to crush a freaking sword with bare hands. He didn’t have enough time because Naruto-san was in the middle of performing a kick aimed at his ribcage.

Naruto’s initial satisfaction at connecting with Itachi-san’s left arm soon turned into guilt as he heard the bone crack and was sent flying sideways before colliding nastily against a tree and collapsing.

Running towards him, he hollered, “Oy! Time out! This test is OVER, dattebayo!” Worriedly, he crouched in front of Itachi-san and asked, “Are you all right? I’m sorry; I didn’t know I had kicked you that hard - I got carried away -”

Itachi-san winced before giving Naruto-kun a kind smile. “Iie, you did your job well,” he said placidly and added, “You most definitely graduate from the Academy with flying colours.”

Naruto gave him a strangled laugh, relieved at Tsunade-baa-chan’s timely appearance, who immediately started healing Itachi with her iryō-ninjutsu, Kakashi supporting his injured comrade.

Jiraiya and the Hokage appeared by Naruto’s side, the former placing a hand on his shoulder. Naruto turned to look at them as he propped himself to his feet, bewildered by their jaw-breaking grins. Without a word, his father’s right hand went into his pocket, and a second later, and drew out a Konoha hitai-ate.

Naruto took it almost apprehensively, as Minato swung his other arm over his son’s shoulders, bringing him to his side affectionately, “Well done, musuko,” Naruto heard him saying as his father’s hand ruffled his hair. Knowing that his eyes were glimmering precariously, he lowered his head with the pretext of inspecting his brand new forehead protector.

“So, you now are a shinobi of the Leaf, gaki,” said Jiraiya, beaming at him. “I have to ask you, though,” he paused, frowning slightly. “You landed a heavy blow while you were in Sage Mode and used a Rasengan on a clone, but other than that you’ve stuck to pretty much the less aggressive techniques in your arsenal. How so?”

Naruto looked at Ero-Sennin as if he had just declared that unfortunately, he was attracted to men and had decided to enrol a monastery. “Are you nuts?” he asked, somewhat bitingly. Placing his hitai-ate on his forehead and tying it at the back of his head, he proceeded in a rather acerbic tone, “I don’t care if this was a test to give me a rank that fits my skills. I can be a genin for all I care. Send me out on missions if you want the more dangerous jutsus,” he said, quite incensed.

He nodded at Itachi, who was already standing up, against Tsunade-baa-chan’s wishes, and then pointed at the leaf carved into the metal plate on his forehead.

Eyes as hard as steel, he told them, “I’m not about to seriously endanger his life just to show off. He’s a comrade of the Leaf.”  Without sparing them another glance, he turned towards Itachi, who was looking at him in wonder and open curiosity. “Say, Itachi, let’s go grab some lunch, I’m starving,” Naruto told him amicably, swinging an arm over the older shinobi’s shoulder just like his father had done to him before, making his knees buckle slightly. “All you can eat and it’s on me, I owe you for that broken arm,” he told him seriously as he steered the silent Itachi away from the rest of the group, “One bowl of ramen and you’ll feel like a new man, I promise…”

As Naruto ventured off with a confused Itachi, blabbing about the almost mythical medicinal properties of the miracle that was ramen – especially miso pork ramen - he did not see the emotion that shone upon the faces of his four mentors.

It was pride.

-OoOoOoOoO-

 

End Notes:
Thank you, SilverWolf1213, for your amazing beta skills.

Until next time,
Vermouth
Morning by Vermouth
Author's Notes:
TRANSLATIONS:
- Tonikaku: Anyway
- Mitsuketa zo!: I found you!
- Wakata: Understood
- Daijobu desu ka?: Are you all right?
- Sumimasen: Sorry
- Sate: Now then…
- Yoroshiku onegai shimasu: Pleased to meet you

Chapter Five

Morning

 

Namikaze Minato was not having a good morning. That in itself didn’t bear any special significance, as, in his opinion, his life was screwed every time the alarm clock went off. To make matters worse, he believed his secretary to be a fiend sent directly from Hell, as he had the ability to make him want to commit suicide the moment he set foot in his office with only seven words: ‘Hokage-sama, I’ll be bringing you today’s paperwork.’

                However, that particular morning was becoming quite speedily one of the worst he had had in a long time. He had had to skip the previous day’s morning work in order to be present at his son’s test – and it’s not as if his paperwork was completely up-to-date, as it kept piling up faster than he could manage – so in turn, he had had to postpone his much needed sleep and stayed awake until a very ungodly hour he did not dare to remember.

                Namikaze Minato was not a morning person. To him, the worst moment of the day was the instant he woke up; and the best the second was the minute he hid himself in his comfy bed under his fluffy duvet. He might’ve been the Yondaime Hokage, Konoha’s Yellow Flash, and most likely the most powerful Kage to have ever lived – but his morning lethargy was as legendary as his many achievements.

                At every crack of dawn, he would muster all of his strength in order to drag himself like a poor, chained soul to the kitchen and try to gobble something edible (preferably food, although once he had the misfortune to gulp down soap). He would drink his tea in silence with bleary eyes and yank himself towards the bathroom to hit the shower and get ready for another day of paperwork.

Therefore, he did not appreciate people who were chipper in the mornings, especially if he hadn’t had any tea. Glaring into his still empty mug, he realised that, as luck would have it, both his wife and son belonged in that category. Not even the fact that he genuinely enjoyed and craved his son’s company, bereft of it as he had been for too many years, could cover for his sunrise exuberance. Both mother and son were too rambunctious, too hyperactive, and too damn motor-mouthed to be allowed.

                “…And I met Shisui Uchiha yesterday, you know, Itachi’s best friend, and I’m telling you, that bloke is super cool, ‘tebayo!  I mean, he loves ramen, too – and nobody who loves ramen can be bad, ne? So anyway, they had some sort of clan thingy, so they had to go after dinner, and I decided to go for a stroll – you know, to get to know the village and all – and I saw a girl with pink hair. Pink, dattebayo! Mind you, she was very pretty…”

                The fact that Naruto was able to spew all that without needing to breathe at all was a feat Minato believed unachievable for most people. In fact, he’d go as far as to say that it was a genetically passed trait. Like mother, like son. Morosely, he thought that had been the reason why Uzushiogakure had been destroyed. Forget about top-notch fūinjutsu, their wired nature could’ve been annoying enough to push the Five Great Nations into destroying Whirlpool.

                To make matters worse, Naruto was dressed from head to toe in vivid, lurid, blinding, obscene orange. Just the sight of him was giving Minato a bad case of hangover.

                “Naruto,” grumbled Minato, pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed, “do me a favour and go change your clothes.”

                “Huh?” uttered Naruto blankly. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

                Minato blinked. Had his son seriously just asked him that? “Naruto, you are orange. You don’t even look human. You look like an orange blob. People will run away from you.”

                Naruto had the gall to pout at him. “But I’m not yet on duty, Tō-chan! I mean, even if I don’t like it, I know that I can’t go on a mission in bright colours, but I’m safe in the village, ‘tebayo!”

                Minato blinked at him. “Sometimes, you are so much like your mother, it’s uncanny,” he told him, deadpan. “She had always liked it, but did you know that in the early stages of her pregnancy, she became obsessed with the colour blue?” A smile darted its way to his lips, despite his previous mood. “Everything had to be blue – and I mean everything. The walls were blue, our clothes were blue, she dyed my hair blue and even tried to paint me blue.”

                His son laughed in mirth. Minato decided then he liked that sound very much.

                “I loved your mother deeply, but even I had to admit she was a complete nutcase,” he said softly, his eyes fixed on nothing in particular, unaware of the sad look Naruto was giving him. He shook his head, drinking the rest of his cooling tea in one swig. “Anyway,” he sighed, glancing at his watch, “I have to go get ready. As much as I’d like to, I can’t spend my morning procrastinating,” he said apologetically, as he rose to his feet and waddled towards the sink. He washed the mug quickly and left it to dry. Turning back to Naruto, he added, “Come around midday, will you? We can have lunch together and then I can start introducing you to some of the teams here.” A flash of horror flared briefly in his eyes before he shook his head in resignation, and then added, “I get the feeling that you are going to get along famously with one of the members of Team Gai.”  Lee-kun will like Naruto, since he has so much of that ‘power of youth’, thought Minato with a sense of foreboding. Kami-sama help him if after Naruto met Maito Gai’s favourite student, he decided to start wearing orange spandex.

                His son was unpredictable and frightening like that. Just like his mother.

 

-OoOoOoOoO-

 

Naruto took a deep breath, enjoying the smell that wafted around the village. He thought he would have loved to grow up in the village. Even if he couldn’t have been acknowledged by his father, he would have still had him, Ero-Sennin, and Kakashi. Drifting distractedly with the winds of Konoha, seeing everything all at once and at the same time, taking nothing in, he skidded to a halt in front of an empty playground. The chains of the swings were covered in frost, and the seats had a cushion of snow atop them, but he could still see himself surrounded by other small children, playing merrily without a care in the world, their parents and caretakers watching them in the distance with soft smiles on their faces. 

A sudden gust of frozen wind hit his face harshly, and the idyllic picture in his mind faded into nothing. He shivered as he realised how much his thoughts had begun to stray and immediately banished the wistful feeling from his mind. After all, it did not do well to dwell on what-ifs and what-might-have-beens and forget about the here and now.

It wasn’t as if his father, Ero-Sennin, and Kakashi had kept him locked underground for his own safety as a child. They all had tried to give him the best childhood possible, given the circumstances. So what if he hadn’t been able to make steady friends in his early years? Whenever they could, Kakashi had always taken his small hand in his and brought him to a playground and pushed his swing with one of his kind one-crinkled-eye smiles. Ero-Sennin had played the silliest games known to humans with a daft grin on his face and without a complaint. And his dad…

His dad had been like a blazing sun to him. As a young boy, Naruto had had a difficult time accepting that his dad couldn’t stay with him as long as he would have liked him to. Naruto may have cried a river whenever his dad had to leave, but the pure anguish on his father’s face expressed a pain far deeper than his own. His dad had been his first sensei, his dad had been the one to teach him how to write and read. His dad’s eyes shone with fierce pride every time he did something right, no matter how small an accomplishment it was.

His dad had placed upon him the biggest burden a father could place on his son, not because it had been a desperate situation but because as Hokage, he could not ask another person to sacrifice his child to carry the terrifying shadow of the Kyūbi no Yōko. Most would think that to be a noble act, but upon careful inspection, one could say that if that were the sole reason he had sealed the Nine-Tails into his own son, then he didn’t love his child at all. As Hokage, he had to place the safety of the entire village over his child; but what father wouldn’t sacrifice the childhood of another kid to save his own boy, despicable as it may have been?

No, his dad had sealed the Kyūbi inside him because he bore the indomitable strength of the Uzumakis, and because he was his son. As he had told him once, it was a parent’s job to have an undying faith in his child, and his never wavered.

And like he had told his father, he was the son of the Fourth Hokage, he could take it. 

                “Ohayō gozaimasu!” droned a bored voiced behind him, startling him.

                Naruto spun around to see Kakashi standing next to a tall shinobi in his late twenties or early thirties with neck-long brown hair, his hitai-ate worn like a bandanna (the knot he’d used to tie the forehead protector looked like a lace to Naruto) and a senbon dangling lazily in his mouth.

                The Girly Pirate, he thought.

                Kakashi, one hand holding his little orange addiction, used the other one to point at his companion. “Naruto, this is Shiranui Genma, a tokubetsu jōnin and one of Sensei’s bodyguards,” he introduced.

                “Pleased to meet ya,” said Genma, giving him a small bow, which Naruto returned.

                Nah, I’ll still call him Girly Pirate, mused Naruto.

                Turning to the Girly – er, to Shiranui Genma, Kakashi said, “Genma, this is Naruto, Konoha’s newest addition and perhaps our future Godaime Hokage,” he stated. Whether he was serious or not was up to debate. One could never tell with Kakashi and his insufferable ‘cool’ attitude, after all.

                Naruto gaped at him like a fish. “Say what?” he sputtered. “Yeah, no thanks. I’m a free spirit like Ero-Sennin. Nobody’s going to tie me to a desk to do boring stuff,” he retorted dismissively. And nobody’s going to force me into a role where I might send people knowingly to their deaths, he added inwardly.

                “Ma, ma. Sensei is getting quirkier and finickier by the day, and it’ll only get worse as he grows older. Tsunade-sama is far too violent and if you gave Jiraya-sama power, Konoha would be depleted of its female population in less than one day.”

                Naruto snorted. “Right. Whatever you say, Ero-Otaku. I don’t think the Hokage is that worn out; but in any case, there is still you, the infamous Sharingan no Kakashi.”

                It was Kakashi’s turn to snort. “Me? I couldn’t possible take up on the mantle of Hokage. I’m a lonely, depressing bohemian soul who tends to get lost on the road of life, you see?” 

                Naruto arched an eyebrow at him. “You know you are a bit… off, right?”

                It was then, when Genma cleared his throat, that both Kakashi and Naruto realised just how rude they had been towards him, lost in their little banter as they were. “Are you two related?” the tokubetsu jōnin asked.

                Kakashi and Naruto looked at each other before replying with a flat ‘no’.

                Genma’s eyebrows shot upwards as he gave them an appraising look. He took in their confident poses, their dark blue facemasks, and just how comfortable and laid-back they seemed around each other and stated, “Well, ya sure act like bickering siblings.”

                Kakashi waved a hand offhandedly. “We go way back,” he retorted in a cavalier manner. “In any case, we must go find Shikamaru,” he added as he drew a piece of paper and a pen from his pockets, unfolding it and peering intently at what looked like a little map of Konoha, crossing out the spot they were in. “We only have four more cloud-gazing spots left to check.”

                Naruto was confused. “Huh?”

                The Girly Pirate grinned, senbon shooting up to point towards the skies. “Nara Shikamaru is a chūnin whose favourite hobby is to lay back and stare at the clouds,” he explained good-naturedly, while Naruto wondered just what kind of person could have such a boring pastime. “His brilliant mind is as impressive as his laziness, he’s even worse than Kakashi, and that’s saying something,” he grinned, while Kakashi simply looked bored, thank you very much. “If you see a guy that looks like a pineapple and won’t stop complaining about how troublesome everything is, that’s our guy.”

                The mental picture of a cloud-gazing, whining talking-pineapple with a hitai-ate basking in the snow disturbed Naruto; especially since said fruit spoke like a yakuza, for some bizarre reason. He really ought to stop coming up with such images.

                “Well, we must be off. Ja ne!” declared Kakashi uninterestedly before teleporting away.

                Shiranui Genma sighed in exasperation. “Man, I hate it when he does that. How am I supposed to know where he’s gone off to now?” he said through gritted teeth. “Tonikaku,” he added quickly, turning to Naruto, “It was nice to meet ya. Ja na!”

                And with that, Naruto was left to his own devices. Sparing the playground one last wistful look, he spun on his heels and walked away. There was still time left before lunch, so he was still free to wander about and get to know the village that was now his home.

                No matter how much he admired and respected Ero-Sennin, Naruto realised as he walked through the crowded streets, that he was unlike his shishō. He didn’t particularly enjoy wandering about the world like an errant soul. He was glad his nomadic lifestyle had finally reached its conclusion.

                A pleasant feeling took its place in his stomach at the sight of Konohagakure no Sato. The buildings were bright and colourful, irregular in their heights. Some were very tall, like the Hokage Tower and the Konoha Hospital. Others were medium in size, like most dwellings. The stands and shops were small and deceived you by looking weak enough to be unable to withstand a harsh winter. Unlike Suna, Kiri, and Kumo; three villages known for their aesthetic architecture, Konoha was uneven and lacked the uniformity and dignity the others had.

                However, to Naruto, a shinobi who would cheerfully dress in orange from head to toe were he allowed to, that did not matter. As he roamed the snowed lanes, his eyes taking in everything he saw, he recognised that the true value and beauty of Konoha, what truly made the village special, was not its architectonical harmony, or lack thereof, but the fact that it was warming, inviting, and comforting. The villagers roamed the streets without a care in the world, talking and smiling to each other while the off-duty shinobi took a step back and relaxed, knowing without a speck of doubt that their comrades had their backs.

                It was no wonder his father fought so hard and had sacrificed so much to protect the village he had been entrusted with, to keep the Will of Fire alive.

                His head turned sharply in the direction of the Hokage Monument, for once not seeking his father’s stone likeness. His eyes rested on the third face carved in stone; sad and at the same time grateful eyes tracing every line of the granite visage.

                “Sandaime-jiji, I am glad to have met you, if only briefly,” he said in a small voice. “You gave your life for the sake of this village so that it could keep its Yondaime Hokage; but to me, you sacrificed yourself so I could have a father. I am forever in your debt,” he murmured softly. His eyes narrowed in fierce determination, his fists clenched. “I swear I will protect this village you loved so much with everything I have.”

                He separated his stare from the Third Hokage’s stone face and turned to gaze once more at the welcoming village, and wondered how it would react once it became public knowledge that it now held the container of the Kyūbi no Yōko. Would the village scorn him, despise him, and curse his existence, shun him to face the terrible fate only known to those who carried a Tailed Beast within him; or would the village accept and welcome him eventually, like it happened with Killer Bee?

                For there was no doubt in his mind that Akatsuki would come by to knock on Konoha’s door at some point. It was futile to hope otherwise. He had been in exile for the entirety of his life because of them, so of course they would eventually come and seek the answer to the whereabouts of his Bijū. If the village was threatened, he would do his best to protect it, consequences be damned.

                He had within him his mother’s love and pain, Sandaime’s sacrifice, and his father’s faith. He had been entrusted with his shishō’s will and carried on with Kakashi’s most important lesson, to never forsaken your comrades.

                He was the jinchūriki of Konohagakure no Sato; and from now on, the Demon Fox’s power would only be used to protect it.

                “…You really should go for the jōnin rank, Shikamaru,” said a voice behind Naruto, jolting him from his thoughts. He whirled around to find the source of the conversation. “I know you think it’s a pain, but you are an asset to the village,” pressed on a very rotund boy about his age, with long and spiky brown hair and wearing carmine armour with the kanji for ‘food’ on his chest.  The husky boy was munching on some crisps, his swirl-painted cheeks swollen like a squirrel’s.

                The other boy next to him had dark brown hair tied up in a high ponytail, sporting the most bored expression Naruto had ever seen. “Tsk, mendōkuse,” the boy drawled lazily, scratching the inside of his ear, as if he were scraping off earwax with his little finger. A huge drop of sweat materialised out of thin air on the back of Naruto’s head at the sight of those two.

                And then it dawned on Naruto. This had been the bloke whom Kakashi had been looking for. Pineapple-headed and with the most unmotivated attitude ever to exist.

                “Oy, chotto matte!” he cried, rushing towards them. Looking at the jaded boy, he asked, “Are you Nara Shikamaru?”

                The world-weary sixteen year-old stared at him with a curious look. “Aa, that’s me. Who are you?”

                “The name's Naruto. I’m the newest addition to Konoha’s ranks,” he introduced himself. “Ero-Otaku and the Girly Pirate were looking for you.”

                The eternally tired teen looked at him as if he were on drugs. “Who?”

                Naruto scratched the back of his hooded head sheepishly. “Er, sorry. I meant Kakashi and Genma-san. Something about Yondaime looking for you.”

                Nara Shikamaru sighed wearily and turned to his friend Akimichi Chōji. “See? This is why I don’t want to become a jōnin. It would only mean more responsibilities, and my cloud-gazing time would be cut short. This is such a drag,” he complained, exhaling noisily. “Keep Ino entertained so she won’t badger me too much, will you? Such a troublesome woman,” he added as he wove the ram hand seal for the Shunshin no Jutsu. “Ja matta!” he said before disappearing in a puff.

                The burly boy looked at him with a kind face. “I’m Akimichi Chōji, yoroshiku onegai shimasu,” he introduced himself with the customary pleasantries. “Welcome to Konoha. Where do you come from, Naruto-san?” he asked, as he removed another bag of crisps from his pouch.

                “Konoha, actually,” he admitted, thinking it was pointless to lie about that detail. “I just haven’t been here since I was born. I’m sixteen by the way. How old are you?”

                Naruto knew Chōji must have been curious about his past, but to the husky boy’s credit, he didn’t press for any information.

                “I’m also sixteen,” he answered with a smile. “This is excellent; we can now be Konoha no jūsannin. I always liked that number.”

                Naruto was confused. “Konoha Thirteen?”

                “Ah, of course, you wouldn’t know since you are new here,” the Akimichi reflected. “Konoha no jūninin – well, jūsannin now that you are here – is the nickname our generation was given. All of us are chūnin except for Neji and Sai, who were recently promoted. Although Sasuke is rumoured to be advancing soon, too. In any case, the twelve of us are a closely-knit group that’s been working together in three-man cells since the day we graduated from the Academy,” he explained, offering some of his snacks to Naruto, who, contradicting his ravenous nature, refused in order to keep his face still hidden behind his ninja mask.

                “Three-man cell, huh?” he repeated sullenly. “I guess that makes me the odd man out, ne?”

                Akimichi Chōji placed a pudgy hand on his shoulder, smiling at him kindly. “Don’t worry about that, Naruto-san. I’m sure you’ll fit in just fine.”

                Naruto beamed at him. He got the feeling Chōji and himself were going to get along splendidly.

 

-OoOoOoOoO-

 

“Mitsuketa zo!” Shikamaru exclaimed, spotting Kakashi and Genma near the Hokage Tower. “A guy called Naruto said you were looking for me?”

                A small bead of sweat appeared on Kakashi’s forehead as Genma voiced his thoughts. “He found you? When we’ve spent half of our morning looking for you?” he complained, exasperated as he pushed forward on the main door of the Hokage Tower. “Where were you anyway? You weren’t at your usual haunts.”

                Shikamaru groaned. “I was with Chōji, getting some new equipment,” he explained as he gave a nod to a passing member of the Cryptanalysis Squad, Shiho, who immediately blushed and pushed up her swirl-tainted round glasses. “So who is this Naruto guy anyway?”

                Genma shrugged. “Apparently, he’s new in the village, so my guess is that nobody knows much about him – except for Kakashi here, who apparently has known him for several years,” he answered, shooting Kakashi a glance. He thoughtfully added, “My opinion is that Naruto and this one here are related. Same facemasks and similar mannerisms.”

                “Iia, we aren’t blood relatives,” retorted Kakashi nonchalantly, eyes fixed on his orange book.

                “So does this Naruto guy have a last name?” asked Shikamaru shrewdly, walking towards the staircase.

                Kakashi shrugged. “I suppose he does,” he replied noncommittally.

                Shikamaru made a disapproving noise. “Huh. He’s related to someone important, then. Tsk, mendōkuse.”

                Kakashi looked at Shikamaru sharply and closed his book with a resounding snap. “I shouldn’t be surprised you figured that out with almost nonexistent clues. In any case, don’t breathe a word about it, and don’t go asking questions,” he added warningly.

                Shikamaru scratched the back of his head. “Aa, wakata. It would be a drag anyway,” he retorted lazily as they reached the top of the stairs. “What I want to know is whether he’s any good or just the son of some celebrity. He looked kind of goofy to me.”

                Kakashi chuckled as we walked through the circular corridor that led to the Hokage’s office. “Don’t write the kid off so easily, Shikamaru. After all, he was able to beat Uchiha Itachi in a one-on-one duel.”

                The Hatake was very amused when he noticed that his two companions had stopped dead in their tracks, agape, eyes open wide like saucers and their jaws hitting the floor soundly.

 

-OoOoOoOoO-

 

 

End Notes:
I keep exceeding the limit per chapter, so I've had to split this chapter in two once again. Oh boy.

Thank you, SilverWolf1213, for your invaluable beta skills.
Until next time,
Vermouth
Konohamaru and the Blondaime Hokage by Vermouth
Author's Notes:
DISCLAIMER: As always, I do not own Naruto, Kishimoto-sensei does. If I owned it, you betcha Yondaime would come back to life, shannaro!

Chapter Six

Konohamaru and the Blondaime Hokage

Minato examined studiously the folder he had just been given, as he paced around his office, a contemplative frown on his face. “Thank you, Hiruko-san, you did good work,” he stated, smiling slightly at his subordinate as he placed the folder on his heavy-laden desk. “You may leave now, and take a few days off. You don’t look too well, if you don’t mind my saying so,” he added thoughtfully as they walked towards the door of his office to let him out.

                The feeble looking shinobi gave him a waning smile as he brushed his white hair away from his face. “Arigatō, Hokage-sama. I’ve been feeling quite worse for the wear lately,” he said sadly as he took a few steps forward towards the door. Clumsily, he stepped on his long white robes, and his knees buckled.

                Minato rushed to him and hooked his left arm around the weak man’s skinny midriff before Hiruko could fall to the floor. “Daijobu desu ka?”

                Hiruko grasped his wrist, sending a shiver down Minato’s spine, and used it as leverage to push himself upwards. “Aa, sumimasen, Hokage-sama. I never had a strong disposition, and age has only made it worse,” he said in a self-deprecating tone. “I’ll take my leave now.”

                The Hokage blinked, momentarily confused, as he watched his subordinate go. He shook his head forcefully, shaking off his temporary mental fog and checked his watch. It was quarter past noon, which meant that Naruto would be there soon. The thought of it brought a true smile to his face.

                Sauntering over towards his desk, he picked a small wad of papers that held information on Naruto’s status as a shinobi and several applications his son would have to sign in order to become a fully-fledged shinobi of the Leaf.

                There was a loud knock on his door. “Come in!”

                Naruto waltzed in. Minato smiled in relief. His son was wearing black nin sweatpants and a light blue hoodie with its hood over his head, his face covered by a black ninja mask à la Kakashi. Thank goodness he had listened to him and forgone that awful orange colour.

                “Ah, Naruto. I’m glad you are here. Close the door.”

                His son did as ordered and then tottered towards him. He pulled his hoodie off and raised his naked arm to run a hand through his blond hair. “Tō-chan, it’s stifling here.”

                “Is it? Sorry, I tend to get a bit cold,” he answered apologetically. “Sit down, sit down,” he added as he hastily cleared his desk. When that was done, he sat on his chair, across from Naruto, opened a drawer, and extracted a scroll, to his son’s utter curiosity. He opened it and said, “Kai!”

                Two take-away containers and two pairs of chopsticks appeared in front of him. A bead of sweat appeared at the back of Naruto’s head. “Tō-chan, I know you are a fūinjutsu prodigy, but don’t you think that’s a bit too much?”

                “Whatever do you mean?” asked Minato, oblivious. “Storing it food is very practical. Plus, it keeps it heated.”

                Naruto sighed in defeat and grabbed one of the food containers. Taking off the lid, he pouted at his father. “It’s not ramen.”

                “No, it isn’t. You already had ramen yesterday for dinner. And if I know you, you had an obscene amount of it. You need to eat something else apart from ramen. And vegetable tempuras are very tasty and healthy,” he chided him as he picked up his chopsticks. “So tell me, how was your morning?”

                Naruto made a pensive noise, the tip of his chopsticks inside his mouth as he chewed. Swallowing his food, he answered, “It was pretty good. Took a long walk around the village and met several people. One of the guys I met was Akimichi Chōji. I liked him. He told me about his family jutsus and all that,” he told Minato happily before he took a huge bite of his food. “He said that the best ramen in Konoha is Ichiraku’s Ramen, so I dared him to have an all-you-can-eat competition whenever possible,” he finished happily as he wolfed down what was left of his tempura. Scratching his stomach, he gave his father an innocent look. “Is there some more?”

                Minato sighed. Bottomless pit of hunger, just like his mother. He took out two more scrolls and handed them over. 

“Thanks, Tō-chan,” chirped Naruto, happy at the prospect of more food, even if it wasn’t ramen.

                The Hokage waved a hand dismissively before taking a tiny bite of his food. “Chōji-kun, huh? He’s a very kind-hearted boy. His father and I used to be teamed up together back in my ANBU days. As a precaution, take it from someone who knows, don’t ever call Chōji-kun ‘fat’ or use any other words that might allude to him being overweight if you don’t want to end up squashed like a bug. The Akimichi Ichizoku jutsus are not something you want to mess with.”

                Naruto gulped. “Understood.”

                Minato chewed on his food silently for a moment, a half-pensive, half-amused look etched on his face. “By the way, I’ve been receiving lately some unusual letters from Kumogakure,” he started in a lazy tone as he put down his chopsticks and opened a drawer. He pulled out a folder labelled ‘Insanity from Kaminari no Kuni’. He opened it and raised his head to stare at Naruto, a lazy grin on his face. “I think you might be able to shed some light on this,” he said enigmatically as he returned his stare to the folder in his hands. With a very serious tone, he verbalised, “This was the first letter I got, and it goes: ‘Ponta is a big racoon and he ain’t no loon – konoyaro. He’s hooked on my tune, my soul-touching rap makes him swoon – bakayaro, baby’.”

                His son burst out laughing. He bent over and held his stomach with his right arm as his left hand banged on the table as laughter rippled out of him. “How many of those have you received?” he asked, not without some difficulty.

                Minato cocked his head to the side and pursed his lips in an attempt to hold back his own amusement. “About ten. At first, we had a bunch of people from the Cryptanalysis Squad working on decoding it, but to no avail.”

                That sent Naruto into another fit of uncontrolled laughter. “Ah, good ole Uncle Bee,” wheezed Naruto as he wiped some mirth tears off his face. “Loves his rap, even though he’s rubbish at it. I’ll have to reply with some lyrics of my own, that’s what he wants.”

                The Hokage sighed, wondering whether every single jinchūriki was devoid of the slightest bit of sanity. “I am already working on creating a formal alliance with Kumogakure, in case you are wondering. What Killer Bee-san did for you cannot be forgotten.”

                Naruto nodded. “Good. I’d like to see Uncle Bee soon,” he stated, making Minato shiver, thinking about the chaos those two might cause if they were together. He wasn’t sure Hi no Kuni could stand it.    

                Minato chomped on the last bits of his food and put the now empty container along with his chopsticks and napkin inside a bag to throw away later. “Sate, let’s start doing a review of your skills, Naruto,” he verbalised as he picked up a small wad of papers from his topmost drawer. “Also, I need you to sign a couple of papers before properly including you as a shinobi of Konohagakure no Sato.

                “First, let’s do the overview,” he stated calmly as he rose from his seat and walked over towards a shelf to retrieve a kettle. Putting the water to boil, he continued, “Your ninjutsu is at a high jōnin level: you have a very strong affinity towards Wind, and you are capable of Water Release,” he paused and smiled at him, proud. “Just like me.”

                Naruto blushed, inwardly pleased.

                “You use both elements well and are quick on your feet. On top of that, you have enough chakra control to be able to do the Rasengan with one hand, which I wasn’t sure you’d be able to do.”

                Naruto scratched his chin, embarrassed. “It took me ages to be able to do that without a Shadow Clone. I had Ero-Sennin train me until I was nearly dead from exhaustion, and then I started learning how to control my chakra with low reserves. As I started getting better at this, I trained to control it with bigger reserves,” he explained, his face draining at the memory of his gruelling training years, “I still can’t do a simple Bunshin to save my life, though.” 

                Minato grinned at him. “I figured as much, your chakra reserves are far too big for that,” he retorted as he placed a tea bag in a mug. “And that is both your greatest strength and biggest weakness. Your attacks can be completely devastating, yes, but such a huge chakra reservoir handicaps you and denies you any skill at genjutsu other than dispelling them.”

                Naruto frowned. “But if I can dispel them, isn’t that good enough?”

                The Hokage shook his head. “When compared to ninjutsu, genjutsu is very much underestimated, as it isn’t as flashy or as destructive. And in most cases, as long as you know how to dispel it or have comrades around, it may be so,” he explained as he sipped on his beverage and retook his seat. Frowning, he proceeded, “However, to put an example, there’s a girl in the Kurama Ichizoku whose genjutsu kekkei genkai is so strong that she can turn illusions into reality. Jōnin Yūhi Kurenai is able to drive you insane before you even realise she’s put you under an illusion. Uchiha Shisui can manipulate and distort your thoughts and memories for the rest of your life – completely undetected. Do you see what I’m getting at?”

                His son had his eyebrows knit together pensively. “Yeah, I do. But Tō-chan, I will never be able to do the most basic genjutsu -”

                “I know,” Minato cut through, raising a hand in a placating manner. “That is not what I meant. What I want is to make sure that you are good enough at noticing them before a powerful genjutsu takes hold of you. I don’t want you to always rely on your jinchūriki chakra, lest you grow overconfident. I want you to see them on your own before they can do any damage. Understood?”

                “Hai.”

                Minato smiled. “Good. Now, on to the next thing,” he took a pause, taking another sip on his tea. “You have mastered senjutsu – which does put you on a level of your own, especially since you are actually better at it than Jiraiya-sensei -”

                “Tō-chan,” interrupted Naruto, a contemplative expression on his masked face. “I wanted to ask you; you have a contract with the Toads, too - so how come you haven’t been taught senjutsu?”

                Minato placed his now empty mug on the desk. “That’s because while my chakra reserves are far higher than the standard shinobi, I do not possess the brute amount necessary to master senjutsu,” he confessed. “You and Jiraiya-sensei are exceptional in this aspect. Not even your mother had so much chakra, even though she was a jinchūriki.”

                “Oh,” uttered Naruto blankly.

                The Hokage fidgeted a bit in his seat, trying to get more comfortable. “Now, taijutsu. We weren’t able to see much of it in your test, but you’ve been training with Jiraiya-sensei, Kakashi, and sometimes myself for you entire life. And on top of that, you are able to perform Frog Kumite – which not even Jiraya-sensei can do well.”

                Truthfully, Minato was bursting inwardly with pride at his son’s abilities. It was actually difficult for him to keep a straight, professional face.

                “Kenjutsu,” he pressed on, “Is not your forte. In that aspect, you are very much like me. Your mother, on the other hand, was a dab at kenjutsu,” he took a break and smiled, reminiscing. “She scared the crap out of me whenever she was angry and had something pointy in her hands. One lesson I learned very early in our marriage was to never make her mad while she was in the kitchen. Too many knives.”

                Naruto laughed at that. “Mum sure was mental.”

                Minato exhaled tiredly. “That she was. But back to the point, kenjutsu. Although chances are you may never excel at it, there’s ample room for improvement. I have two people in mind to help you with that.”

                “Oh?” asked Naruto, curious, before frowning. “But Tō-chan, isn’t that a bit unfair to other ninja? I mean, I don’t think you actually take such an active role in others’ training regimes…”

                Minato blinked. “That is true.  I am Hokage, so I shouldn’t be playing favourites,” he stated seriously. Then, his features softened before adding, “But I’m also your father. So I’m allowed a little room.”

                Naruto ducked his head and pretended to scratch an itchy spot on his stomach.

                Minato grinned at his son’s discomfort. “I’ll also be taking an active role in your fūinjutsu training. After all, you can’t really say you are my son and an Uzumaki if you aren’t whiz at fūinjutsu.”

                Naruto scrunched his nose as he crossed his arms over his chest. “You do know that you are one fūinjutsu freak, right?”

                The Hokage glared at him in mock outrage. “What, you are telling me you don’t want to learn the Hiraishin no Jutsu?”

                His son’s jaws hit the wooden desk with a loud ‘thud’. “Fūinjutsu? I love fūinjutsu! When do we start?” he said frantically with a goofy face, jumping up and down on his seat, as if he were on a sugar high.

                Minato laughed at his son’s antics before steering his features into a serious mask. “Back to the topic at hand, you are a difficult one to categorise as your skills range from very high jōnin – or even higher than that – to chūnin and then some below that. For instance, you need to work on your stealth. You are very devious and quick on your feet. You are able to come up with successful strategies on the fly – but not being seen doesn’t seem to be one of your strengths. And a jōnin needs that.”

                Minato massaged his cheek thoughtfully and crossed his legs. “All in all, I’d say you are an unusual jōnin, one that would specialise in devastating combat,” he declared, he himself a bit confused. “However, my gut is screaming at me to place you as a chūnin, at least for the time being. I’m not doing this as a punishment or lack of trust in you,” he added hastily at the sight of his son’s slightly hurt expression, “I’m doing this for you.

                “Being promoted to chūnin and then jōnin is something one should celebrate with your comrades and friends, like a rite of passage,” he explained softly, his eyes glazing as he remembered the past. “If I made you a jōnin right away, I’d be taking the chance to blend in with your peers away from you,” he declared as he rose to his feet with a small wad of papers in his hands and walked up to Naruto, a remorseful look etched on his features.  “As it is, too much has already been taken away from you.”

                Naruto didn’t know what to say. His father sure was a master at making him feel both warm and very awkward. So instead he opted for the safest option and decided to take a look at the papers in front of him and sign them.

                Shortly afterwards, though, he regretted his choice, as legalities and technical language were definitely not his forte. It was easier understanding Ero-Sennin’s blabbering when he was wasted beyond belief than what was written in front of him. The letters started dancing in front of his eyes, and before he could do something really embarrassing like fainting, he said in a pleading voice, “Eto, a little help, please?”

                With his father’s assistance, it didn’t take them long to run through all the legal procedures, thankfully. One curious thing happened though, when Naruto told his father he didn’t have a photo of himself to put on his identification. His father had hastily told him not to worry about that, as he had plenty suitable. That precise moment would lay forgotten and dormant in his mind until some time into the future.

                “Well, there’s only one thing left to do,” articulated his father, grinning in anticipation and succeeding in making Naruto nervous, wondering what his father’s excitement was all about. He didn’t have to wait long before his father produced a standard chūnin vest and waved it in front of him proudly, his smile so wide it threatened to reach the back of his head.

                “C’mon, put it on, put it on!” exclaimed his father happily, making Naruto wonder how on earth had the almighty Yondaime Hokage reverted to a chirpy five year-old in the span of two seconds as Minato handed him the green vest.

                But before he could comply with his father’s wishes, his senses tingled in alarm. He wheeled on his toes sharply and drew out a kunai as he funnelled chakra into his hair, turning it blue. He bent his knees in a defensive stance whereas his father leaned the small of his back on the edge of his desk, then pressed Naruto’s new vest to his chest with his right arm and slapped his forehead lightly with his left hand, letting out an exasperated sigh. “That’s the third time this week.”

                Before Naruto could comprehend what was going on, a greyish blur with a blue appendix zoomed into the office –

                “Fight me, Blondaime Hokage!”

And then tripped over the flat surface. Naruto blinked, bemused. It turned out to be a boy of around twelve or eleven, who was wearing a ridiculously long and impractical blue scarf around his neck and was sporting a very fierce look on his young face directed at the Hokage.

“What do you think you are doing, midget?” asked Naruto, annoyed at the gall of the kid in front of him, who didn’t even appear to have noticed him, as his eyes were solely fixed on Minato, who was shaking his head wearily.

The boy turned to look at him, highly affronted, as he pulled himself to his feet. “And who the heck are you?” he inquired, irritated. “Never mind,” he said dismissively as he directed his stare once again at Minato. “I said fight me now, Blondaime, for the title of Hokage!”

Naruto’s right eye twitched. Enough was enough.

The boy was tied up and sitting on his bottom with his legs sprawled before he had even realised it. “What? What the -?” he sputtered, shocked at his predicament. Glaring at Naruto, who was now towering him, he yelled. “Untie me now, you ruffian! Do you know who I am? I’m Sarutobi Konohamaru, the Sandaime Hokage’s grandson! Show some respect!”

Naruto lowered his body into a kneeling position, his face about five inches away from the young boy’s. His blue eyes pierced into the brat’s own orbs coldly. Konohamaru fidgeted, uncomfortable and if he admitted it to himself, a bit scared of the older black-clad masked ninja in front of him. Those feral slits seemed to be able to see his very soul.

“You think that just because you are related to Sandaime-sama, you should be respected? You think that just because you are spawned from the right people, that means anything?” asked Naruto in a biting tone. “Your grandfather would be appalled at your bratty behaviour, boy.”

Naruto -”

Naruto cast his father a silent look over his shoulder, and Minato sighed, giving in. His son had absolutely no tact, but perhaps his bluntness would succeed at making a lesson sink in where kind words couldn’t.

“If your grandfather was before me,” drawled Naruto testily, “I’d be bowing on my knees. Sandaime-sama was a kind, wise man to whom I owe more than I can say. I could spend the rest of my life trying to repay what he did for me, and it still wouldn’t be enough,” he admitted sternly.

Konohamaru was sweating profusely; the imposing aura the older shinobi exuded was terrifying, even if it had no killer intent. He started shaking uncontrollably as the blue-eyed black-masked ninja wove a kunai in front of him, not even noticing the Hokage’s startled jump.

Naruto cut the rope around Konohamaru and dragged him to his feet. “You want to be Hokage?” he asked quietly as he dusted him off. “Then love this village as much as your grandfather did. Think of the people in it as your own family. Don’t think of the title of Hokage as means to acknowledgement, for the position of Hokage is one of lifelong sacrifice.

“This spoiled-brat attitude of yours is at best annoying, and at worst, it will get you killed in your first serious mission as a shinobi,” declared Naruto unfeelingly. “While you may be given a wide berth here for being Sandaime-sama’s grandkid, you are insignificant out there. The world does not care whether you live or die. Your future enemies won’t give a damn whether you are Sandaime’s grandson or a poor fisherman’s kid.

“Grow strong like your grandfather. Learn to see everybody in this village as your equal and as a part of you. Learn from Yondaime-sama instead of demanding him to fight you,” he told him seriously, his steel blue eyes unyielding before softening. He placed a hand on the boy’s head gently and added, “If you do that, then perhaps one day you will be Hokage.”

The scolded boy stared at him in avid wonder, his eyes dramatically wide. Without uttering a word, he fixed his scarf, a pensive frown on his young face. He shifted his eyes towards Minato, who was looking at them calculatingly.

“I won’t be challenging you anymore, Yondaime-sama,” murmured Konohamaru, far from downtrodden. He waltzed towards the door slowly, a myriad of thoughts bouncing within his young mind. He paused at the exit, a hand on the door frame as he gave Minato one last look, sadness and longing swirling in his brown eyes. “But I will come here again from time to time to ask about my grandfather, Asuma ji-chan never talks about him.”

Turning to look at Naruto, he opened his mouth and then closed it, repeating this action several times before he gave up. He shook his head and exited the office, closing the door behind him softly.

“You were pretty harsh with him. You realise that, don’t you?” asked Minato as he pushed his body forward. The edge of his desk was stabbing the small of his back.

Naruto sighed wearily. “I know. But I figured my words had to be about the first truthful words the kid had ever heard. Judging from his attitude, I figured he has been treated like a pampered princeling all his life. That behaviour will only end up getting him killed on his first serious mission,” Naruto ran a hand through his back-to-blond hair. “Like I said before, I owe Sandaime no jiji-chan. If my callous words sink in, then perhaps in the future, he won’t lose his life stupidly. If being verbally ruthless may end up protecting the kid’s life, then it’s well worth it. I don’t think Sandaime no jiji-chan would disapprove.”

Minato raised a hand in a placating manner. “I’m not scolding you. I think you are the first to take the right approach. I admit that I myself have tip-toed too much around the kid,” he admitted, ashamed, as he scratched the back of his neck.

Naruto shrugged. “Understandable. You feel you owe your predecessor as much as I do. But unlike me, you’ve known the kid since he was born and have grown accustomed to his pampered ways,” he explained and then pressed a finger against his cheek, a frown marring his forehead. “I wonder if I would have grown up like that had I been raised in the village,” he muttered and then shrugged his shoulders once more. “Oh well, it’s pointless to think about the ‘what ifs’, ‘tebayo.”

“Indeed,” agreed his father calmly before straightening his back energetically. “Now then, where were we? Oh yes, you have to put this on!”

Naruto groaned. “Why are you so excited, Blondaime?” he questioned, frustrated at his father’s antics, but nevertheless acquiescing.

“You are much too grumpy to be sixteen, Naruto,” chided Minato as he dusted off some invisible dirt on his son’s brand new vest. He then placed his hands on his shoulders and gripped them tightly as his eyes roamed his child’s hungrily.  “If only your mother could see you now. She’d be so proud,” he whispered in a constricted voice.

Naruto gave him a kind and sad look. He knew perfectly well that the hole in his father’s heart created by the death of his mother would never truly heal, no matter what Naruto did.

Minato shook his head and ambled towards his desk. “Alright, so where did I put the camera?”

What?” sputtered Naruto.

“Oh, here it is!” exclaimed Minato, bizarrely ecstatic, the accursed device in his hands. “Alright, get rid of that mask and smile, will you?”

“Tō-chan, this is ridiculous!” he protested, hiding his face in his hands.

Minato waved a hand dismissively and then created a Shadow Clone to whom he handed over his camera. He swung an arm over his son’s shoulders and dragged him to his side as his free hand pulled down the ninja mask that covered his son’s disgruntled face.

“Oh, come on, don’t be such a party-pooper. This is a special day. Making chūnin is an important milestone in every shinobi’s life,” he declared as he raised his free hand to do the V symbol with his index and middle fingers, beaming at the camera.

Naruto thought his old man was beyond insane, but he nevertheless complied, and at a maddeningly slow pace, almost unwillingly, a true smile unravelled itself on his lips.

Click.

 

-OoOoOoOoO-

               

 

 

End Notes:
Thank you, Silverwolf1213, for your excellent beta-skills.

Ja ne!
Team Gai by Vermouth
Author's Notes:
Having to split these chapters in two is getting a tad confusing... Oh well, as always, I do not own Naruto, Kishimoto-san does.

Chapter Seven

Team Gai

 

The beige curtain was draped diagonally, in a manner he probably thought would supposedly give the sitting customers some privacy and yet allow the potential clients an easy entrance. Naruto was sitting across from Jiraiya at the table closest to the fairly deserted street, giving him a good view of the clientele at the dango stand on the other side of the snow-covered lane. From his vantage point he could spot one of his father’s special bodyguards, the Girly Pirate. Genma-san was as always idly holding a senbon in his mouth, an arm draped around the back of his wooden chair and his legs were widely open in a comfortable, standoffish way. However, Naruto knew that was only a façade; he knew only too well that what the older shinobi wanted was to give an air of mysterious aloofness and alluring manliness. He was trying to impress someone.

                The attractive and shapely pair of female bare legs, no doubt belonging to a kunoichi, under the same table as Genma-san’s confirmed it. He couldn’t see anymore of the kunoichi as the beige drape obscured his view, but he couldn’t help but wonder whether the woman in question was sane or as mad as a hatter. His hormonal brain liked the view, but the thought of being so scantily clad in the middle of Konoha’s currently frozen weather made him feel suddenly terribly cold.

                He shivered unwittingly and focused back to the conversation he was having with his shishō, who seemed to be very enamoured with his alcoholic drink. He’s a hopeless case, thought Naruto dolefully. Sparing one last look at the lazy shinobi, Naruto wished him luck in his romantic endeavours. He had met Genma-san twice after their first encounter and he realised that he truly liked him. He was friendly, confident, skilled and didn’t approve of gossip. Plus, the laid-back shinobi was loyal to a fault to his father, so the whiskered teen felt at ease around him.

                Naruto hadn’t told a soul, but he knew something was amiss in Konoha. There were whisperings and murmurs, dark looks and distrust seeping through the village. He was not Jiraiya’s student for nothing. He had mentioned it to his father briefly, but the elder blond had quickly rendered him silent with a fulminating stern look.

                The blue-eyed blond steered his mind away from his almost morbid thoughts and slid into his usually cheerful and careless persona, his attention back on his sake-happy honorary grandfather. Unbeknownst to him, the Toad Sage had been tracking every single glance Naruto had spared on their surroundings; he had been observing his energetic student’s every move since he had begun to space out. He had done it all inconspicuously, naturally. He was, after all, a master amongst spy masters. Little went on without him noticing. Except, of course, for the direction of Tsunade’s punch when he was caught peeking.  

The blond jinchūriki scratched the back of his hooded head and exhaled loudly. “I just don’t get it. I treated him like dirt and now he worships the ground I walk on, ‘ttebayo.”

                Jiraiya laughed stridently at his predicament. Inevitably, he was thrown into a fit of coughing thanks to the treacherous sake that had swum its way to his lungs. “I don’t know how you do it, gaki,” he wheezed, thumping his chest forcefully, hacking his lungs free of the burning alcoholic beverage. “But you turn just about everyone into a follower – especially the loony ones,” he quipped. A pensive frown marred his forehead and he then raised his left hand to cup his chin. “Then again, you also turned Tsunade, who absolutely adores you,” he emphasised with a beyond-baffled look on his face. He then fell silent, his fingers prodding the scraped, wooden table beneath them before he jolted and started rummaging through his belongings, pulling out a notebook shortly afterwards. Pen at the ready, tapping at his lower lip thoughtfully and with a face that resembled a zealous secretary, he said, “So perhaps I should take a leaf out of your book.”

                “Huh?” asked Naruto vacantly, distracted as he was by the pretty pink-haired girl that had just passed by the pork buns’ stand where Naruto and Jiraiya were currently visiting.

                “… Could it be that irksome ‘dattebayo’ you keep spewing all the time?” cogitated Jiraiya to himself as he sipped on his sake. “Then perhaps I should get a tag phrase of my own…”

                Naruto shook his head, resigned. When Ero-Sennin was pulled into his own world of discovering the meaning of life, and more importantly, his quest to finally have Tsunade no Baa-chan confess her undying love for him – along with the rest of the world’s good-looking women –, there was no snapping him out of it. So he might as well take advantage of it. Ero-Sennin would be pulled out of his nose-bleeding fantasies as soon as he got the bill, so he might even be doing him a favour. He’d end up dying of blood loss if not.

                “Ō-chan!” he addressed the waiter, waving his arms about energetically, “Four more of those pork bun dishes, please!”

                Fifteen minutes later, Naruto exited the stand, happily rubbing his very swollen belly. He pulled his cloak around him and then stretched his arms briefly before shrinking back, his bulging abdomen protesting at the sudden exercise. He shut his eyes tightly as the thickly-veiled and deceitful December sun above him blinded his eyes. Naruto tilted his head to the left and raised his right hand to massage the back of his neck, wincing slightly as he heard his vertebrae crack.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have eaten that much, he thought hazily to himself, feeling that unwelcome postprandial drowsiness slithering its way into his brain. The son of the village leader shook his head, yawning obscenely under his mask and cursing his two-faced physiology. He couldn’t afford feeling sleepy now of all times: he was due at the Hokage Tower in fifteen minutes for his first mission as a shinobi of the Leaf, after all. Almost painfully, he dragged his body towards the Hokage Tower, waddling his feet like a heavily pregnant woman.

At the exact time, gatekeepers Hagane Kotetsu and Kamizuki Izumo happened to walk past him, their arms loaded with scrolls and breathing raggedly. They had both decided it was high time they sought the position of jōnin. No matter how much they loved their work as gatekeepers, they were fed up with the haughty and condescending looks from some hoity-toity shinobi. One Uchiha Tekka loved whispering – which of course meant that everyone within a fifty-metre radius would hear – of how much he pitied them, for they were so incompetent that their only use was to serve as the Hokage’s gophers. 

Although highly offended at the hackneyed malicious mutterings, they both realised that there was a pinch of truth in them: they’d been resting on their lacklustre laurels for too long. Therefore, brimming with determination, they had ransacked the library and taken out as many scrolls as possible. They would be learning and studying as they kept their gate-keeping duties.

However, the moment both saw Naruto, their eyes widened comically in recognition, nearly dropping their precious studying material.

“Izumo, wasn’t that -?” Kotetsu asked his partner, not daring to believe what he was seeing, blinking faster than any human was supposedly able to.

“It so was, Kotetsu,” replied Izumo, utterly gobsmacked. “Hokage-sama’s exotic girlfriend.”

Kotetsu shivered lightly. Not without some difficulty, he brought his hands towards his face and rubbed his eyes, hoping that when he opened them that daunting illusion would disappear. However, the image did not vanish: the hooded figure was still wobbling towards the Hokage Tower, still about to burst, and still very sleepy.

“Yondaime-sama has already knocked her up?” Kotetsu asked weakly. “Kami-sama, that really happened in a flash.”

“Bad pun, Kotetsu,” Izumo remarked absent-mindedly in an almost subconscious way. “But seriously, not only was that extremely quick, but she also seemed to be well into her pregnancy…” Stricken and paling a few shades in the span of a millisecond, he whispered with a trembling voice, “Just what sort of a man is Hokage-sama?”

And of course, on top of having a harem of exotic, skinny wives, Minato soon had to deal with the many fraudulent merchants who sold fake elixirs to the gullible men of Konoha, claiming that such concocts would grant them the god-like private male bits Hokage-sama had.

Minato really wanted to pull a Kyūbi on them.

-OoOoOoOoO-

 

“You have no shame, brat.”

Naruto shrugged nonchalantly as he trudged up the staircase that led to his father’s office, the colourful dark red walls that surrounded them tugging at his eyes. For someone who didn’t like lovely and warm colours such as orange, his father didn’t seem to have a problem with blazing wine red walls. But then again, Naruto reasoned, this was the Fire Country, so perhaps the décor was out of his father’s control. Speaking of fire, Naruto removed his cloak hastily, knowing just how stifling the Hokage office could get, and tucked it securely under his arm.

“That’s what you get for being like that. Do you know just how annoying it is when you start blabbering and drooling all over? ‘Sides, it’s not as if you can’t afford the bill. I don’t understand it, but those dreadfully boring books of yours do sell well.”

The Sannin gave out a discontented ‘humph’. “Minato owes me big time for making me spend my invaluable time on such an ungrateful brat.”

Naruto arched an eyebrow at him. “You consider spending your days peeping on women as invaluable? Goodness, you are crazier than Orochimaru, Ero-Sennin,” he retorted cheekily. “Besides, back when I was a ‘cute’ kid, you sure didn’t mind having me around that much,” he added, shaking his head, “I do recall the soul-wrenching far-fetched tales you spun on the poor unsuspicious women about how you were a single father, a man who had been abandoned by his evil wife and was left all alone to raise his son, woe was you,” he recited dramatically, the emphasis and heart-felt sorrow that leaked from his voice and the passionate movements of his hands so elaborate that he could have made a veteran actor jealous.

The incurable voyeur sighed, a silly grin adorning his features as the past zoomed into his brain.

When small rivulets of blood started oozing from his nostrils, Naruto knew he had to do something about it lest Ero-Sennin would be lost in his own little perverted fantasy world. Oh well, it’s not as if getting a little violent with his shishō would make the older man any weirder. Plus, it was not as if he liked playing whack-a-mole with his head just for the kicks – or at least that’s what he told himself as he bent his knees and jumped, deftly landing a round slap on the back of the taller man’s head.

Ouch! What was that for, gaki?” grumbled Jiraiya, disgruntled and glaring at the masked boy, as he massaged his beaten scalp.

The hooded teen sighed in defeat. There was no winning against Ero-Sennin’s powerful kekkei genkai of absolute lechery. Naruto should have known better, he really should have, but his nindo was to never give up and never go back on his word, after all.

“You were already becoming one with your dirty mind, and about to mentally enter Hentai – Modo, which I’m not keen on seeing again,” responded Naruto waspishly, lips pursed in disapproval. “What are you doing here anyway, Ero-Sennin?” he asked, curious as to why was his shishō accompanying him to his debriefing.

“I’m involved in your mission,” he answered curtly, as he opened the white door that led to the Hokage’s office, not bothering to knock on it first. The hinges sighed softly, alerting the village head of their presence.

“Oh?” pressed on Naruto as he scampered after him, crossing the threshold.

Neck turned to his hyperactive student, Jiraiya grinned at him. “You’ll see. I wouldn’t want to spoil it,” he answered enigmatically before turning his neck to its normal position and smiling at his most prodigious student, who was sitting in front of his ever-loaded desk and sipping on some hot beverage like his life depended on it. “Ah, Minato. We’re here already. You look cold,” he remarked, ambling towards him.

The elder blond blew into his cup, relishing the feeling of the warm steam caressing his face. “Tsunade was angry at me, so she destroyed the heater,” he muttered darkly.

“You aren’t having tea,” Naruto observed, gazing questioningly at the mug of hot chocolate that was held securely between his father’s already pink hands.

The forty-something year-old mumbled something incoherently, sparing his son’s still hopefully innocent ears from some colourful words. Losing the skin of a grumpy hermit, he regained his royal composure and explained, “Tsunade could’ve put some nasty unnoticeable and untraceable drug in it. Experience has taught me to be extra cautious when it comes to fiery women. I’m not about to risk having my brains addled like yours, Sensei,” he added teasingly, making Naruto smirk at his shishō.

“You cheeky Namikaze brats. I don’t know why I put up with the two of you,” he sulked vindictively, lips shaped into an unattractive and childish pout.

“Ero-Sennin, you are going senile,” quipped Naruto good-humouredly, “Tō-chan just said it himself. Tsunade no Baa-chan has addled your brains. And you didn’t have much of them to start with.”

Jiraiya grunted in mock displeasure. “Says the blond idiot who said ‘catra’ instead of ‘chakra’ until he was thirteen.”

“Well, excuse me,” retorted the whiskered teen, faking outrage as he crossed his arms over his chūnin-vested chest in an affronted manner. “Says the old fossil who still writes ‘nine’ instead of ‘ta’.”

“It’s a writing quirk, bakamon!”

Minato lowered his head in an attempt to hide his amused smile at his sensei’s and son’s antics. Schooling his features into his stern Hokage mask, he told them, “All right, enough you two. Sensei, don’t egg him on, you aren’t a teenager anymore,” he gave his former teacher a piercing look, not unlike the one he usually dedicated to that meddlesome, warmongering Danzō. He turned his head sharply towards his son, who was looking at him apprehensively, no doubt expecting to be scolded. Minato smirked inwardly. “Naruto, don’t pick on the elderly, it’s not nice.” 

Jiraiya looked highly affronted at having the two Namikazes ganging up on him. “Don’t try to act so high and mighty, Minato, just because your kid is around. You are forty-three, after all.”

Minato seemed genuinely confused at that statement. “What are you talking about?” he asked calmly while sipping on his hot drink, shifting his weight as he balanced his lateral left ankle on his right knee. “Maito Guy never stops expressing just how much I’m brimming with the fires of youth.”

As if on cue, the door was knocked on several times in a very exuberant style before it opened and four figures tottered in, two of which seemed to be exuding energy from their very pores, whereas the other two simply wobbled in, utter defeat etched on their faces.

“TEAM GAI AT YOUR SERVICE, HOKAGE-SAMA! MIGHT YOU BESTOW UPON US A YOUTHFUL MISSION!”

Naruto couldn’t help it as he stood there, transfixed, feeling his mind being invaded by Kyūbi-sized black caterpillars. He closed his eyes tightly and shook his head vigorously, wondering what sort of hallucinogen he had ingested when he ate those pork buns. When he opened his eyes again, the terrifying vision was gone, only to be replaced with his father’s face, which was much too close to be allowed.

“Are you all right, Naruto?” Minato asked, palming his son’s forehead in anxiety, searching for a bout of fever that could’ve caused Naruto’s temporary daze.

Naruto grasped his father’s hand tightly in his and pushed it away gently from his forehead, slightly embarrassed. “I’m fine. I don’t know what hit me. But it was really freaky. I just saw – oh.”

It then dawned on Naruto why he had fallen prey to the single most bizarre genjutsu in history. Standing before him, as his father drew back and retreated to his seat, he was able to see four figures, three male and one female.

One of the males as well as the young woman, while fairly conspicuous on their own, faded into invisibility when compared to the other two, who seemed to be one old and one young copy of each other. Both appeared to ooze flamboyance, eccentricity and utter nuttiness in such large quantities that they could’ve been spotted by even a blind man.

The first thing Naruto’s mind assimilated were the obscenely large, spring roll-shaped black eyebrows below a ridiculously bowl-shaped cut. The second thing Naruto saw was green; men in dark green body-hugging spandex and bright orange leg warmers, the sort of attire which Naruto that believed should be banned. He quickly separated his eyes from such a trauma-inducing sight. He was not a fan of seeing men in tight clothes. Ever.

“Ah, Team Gai, I’m happy to see you here,” his father said placidly from his seat. Naruto believed he must have developed some sort of immunity against such oddities. “I hope you have rested from your last mission?”

“We ooze the power of youth, Hokage-sama, and are ready to engage in any sort of mission that will set our flames afire!” said the mini-clone exuberantly, a bandaged fist pumping up in the air to emphasise his ecstasy.

Yondaime chuckled lightly at Lee-kun’s bouncy announcement and turned to the only normal-looking male in the group. “I trust your father is doing well, Neji-kun?”

The dark long-haired boy in his late teens gave him a small, respectful bow. “He is, Hokage-sama. He expressed his wish to see you for another game of shōgi, believing that this time he will beat you,” he replied politely but not without a hint of amusement in his voice. “He said he promises to make you your favourite kind of tea if you manage to spare some time tonight.”

Naruto stared at the boy, his gaze set on his almost white and seemingly pupil-less eyes. So that is the fabled Byakugan, the fearsome dōjutsu of the Hyūga Clan, he recognised. He took in the young man’s appearance – Neji, he remembered -, from his loose-fitting white blouse, which was oddly closed on his right shoulder, a fastener running down his chest, to the matching sweatpants and the dark apron wrapped around his waist. Despite his bizarre attire, Naruto knew immediately that this shinobi was a very competent one.

While Naruto was mulling over the look of the members of Team Gai, Minato was smiling beatifically behind his desk. If one had enough imagination, one could even see little hearts hovering behind him.

“You know what, Neji-kun? I think I’ll swing by later tonight. After all, one shouldn’t forget about his friends, even if he is Hokage,” replied the blue-eyed leader with an astoundingly serious face.

Naruto snorted under his mask. Who was his father trying to fool?  

“Mmmh, excuse me,” the girl piped in timidly, her gaze fixed on Jiraiya, who had been idly sitting on the window ledge behind Minato. Naruto noted that she had a bit of a shrill, whiny voice. “I don’t mean to sound rude, but are you by any chance Jiraiya of the Legendary Sannin?”

The girl was about his age, he believed. She wore her hair in two tight Chinese-styled buns, the fringe that stemmed from her head covered part of her hitai-ate, nearly reaching a pair of big, russet-coloured eyes. She was sporting a high-collared loose-fitting white blouse with a red fastener that went from the bottom of the blouse to her neck. Her waist was spiralled by bandages and a pair of slack maroon sweatpants covered her legs. The backs and palms of her hands were concealed under a pair of fingerless gloves, which were currently wrapped around a scroll much too large for such a slim girl.

Naruto thought she looked capable, and he found it refreshing when he believed that girl not to be a bloodthirsty one, like most kunoichi seemed to be.

Jiraiya, at hearing his name being called with anticipation and admiration, sprung from his makeshift seat in an enthusiastic manner. He wheeled twice on the tips of his feet, ending his spin with his legs opened and knees bent. One arm bent backwards sought purchase on his waist while the other arm was extended in front of him, showing his palm.

“That is right, little lady. I’m the fearsome Toad Sage of Myōbokuzan,” he exclaimed brightly with an expression that was supposedly meant to be alluring. “I’m the strongest of the Densetsu no Sannin. I’m a talented novelist and an example of manliness -”

“Cut it out, Ero-Sennin,” interrupted Naruto, his face buried in his hands in shame. That was his shishō, he groaned.

Bakamon!” Jiraiya yelled at him, spit flying everywhere. Minato wished he had an umbrella as he looked dejectedly at his now undrinkable chocolate. “How dare you break off my splendid entrance?”

 The masked teen snorted at him. “Because it’s ridiculous, Ero-Sennin.”

The disgruntled Sannin huffed at him and wrapped his arms around his chest, a highly affronted expression on his face. “I told you not to call me that ever again, gaki.”

Naruto, oblivious to the awed and puzzled looks he was getting from the four members of Team Gai, made a disapproving noise as he too crossed his arms around his chest and turned his face to the opposite wall. “I will when you pay me back the money you owe me and stop dragging me to your ‘research’ escapades.”

 Minato sighed again and schooled his features into a stern mask. “That’s enough, you two. Team Gai was not brought here to be entertained by your particular brand of antics, after all,” he reprimanded both his son and sensei, wondering how on Kami-sama’s green earth those two had managed to live alone for so many years. “Naruto, come here,” he ordered his son as he stood up. He placed a hand on the shoulder of a somewhat apprehensive Naruto, and addressed the newcomers, “Team Gai, this is Naruto, Jiraiya-sensei’s student and newest chūnin to enlist in the ranks of Konoha. Naruto, this is Team Gai. The tallest amongst them is jōnin Maito Gai -”

“PLEASED TO MEET YOU, NARUTO-KUN! I’m Maito Gai, Konoha’s Sublime Blue Beast of Prey!” he hollered, spinning around and striking a pose, giving Naruto the thumbs up, winking merrily at him with a dazzling and somewhat creepy smile. Impossibly, a sunset shone briefly behind him.

Naruto blinked, dazed. Before he had the time to recover from such an original introduction, the younger version of Maito Gai leaped into action, fuelled by his sensei’s magnificent presentation. Dancing the same choreography as his older version, he struck his thumb at a baffled Naruto, back to back with his inspiring sensei. “And I’m ROCK LEE, Konoha’s Beautiful Blue Wild Beast!”

Minato truly sympathised with his son, who seemed to be in a semi-comatose state as he stared at the two spandex-clad shinobi in utter shock, both of whom now had a stream of tears rolling down their cheeks as they gazed mesmerised at each other.

“B-but you are green,” he stuttered blankly, eyes open wide in sheer disbelief. “Is this real?”

“Don’t bother trying to fathom the inner workings of Gai-sensei and Lee’s minds. It is a futile quest,” the Hyūga boy said, taking pity on the highly traumatised Naruto. “I am Hyūga Neji and this is Tenten,” he added, pointing a finger to his female teammate, who waved at him.

Yondaime shook his still hypnotised son before pulling back, aware of the curious look Neji had at their proximity. He sauntered towards his desk and opened a drawer. Using both hands, he pulled out one sealed scroll and one folder. He closed the drawer with a bent knee and waltzed towards the front of his desk, leaning on its edge.

“Now that the introductions are done, let us begin with the debriefing. Gai, this is for you,” he handed the confused-looking eccentric jōnin the scroll. “Take this scroll to Sunagakure, and make sure that nobody other than the Kazekage reads it.” With his free hand, he pinched the bridge of his nose wearily. “I shouldn’t say this about a fellow Kage, but the Kazekage is a conniving, arrogant fool. I’ve appointed Nara Shikamaru and Genma, who should already be waiting for you at the main gate, to be part of your team. You need to make him understand,” he stressed fiercely, “that not only his weapon,” he paused, putting a lid to the venom that had leaked from his voice, “but his whole village is in danger. The Akatsuki will stop at nothing to gain the Shukaku.”

Maito Gai looked unusually sombre. “I won’t fail, Hokage-sama.”

Minato smiled at his most bizarre subordinate. “I’m counting on you, Gai. Now go, and may the, er, ‘flames of youth’ be with you.” He raised his fist somewhat timidly, trying to encourage his quirkiest underling. A leader was supposed to do that, right? Hyūga Neji didn’t seem to think so, as he was giving Minato a look that clearly meant that he did not approve of that kind of moral support because really, those two just didn’t need to have their behaviour sponsored.

“YOSH!” the dynamic jōnin exclaimed brightly and gave the Hokage one of his blinding smiles. He turned to his younger version and placed his hands on his shoulders. “Lee, carry out whatever mission Hokage-sama has lined in for you with your brilliant flames of youth!”

Rock Lee, on the brink of crying, elevated both arms and curled his right hand into a ball, striking his open left palm with it. “Hai, Gai-sensei!”

As Maito Gai disappeared in a mass of spherical white smoke, Naruto reflected on how his life would’ve turned out had he had him as a sensei. He decided that he wouldn’t complain about Ero-Sennin ever again. Well, at least not inwardly; he’d still annoy the living daylights out of that perverted coot. It was just too much fun to quit.

Naruto’s internal deliberations were disrupted by a raspy cough reverberating from his father’s throat, drawing everyone’s attention to his face before it shifted to the padded envelope he idly wove before his chest. “This package contains scrolls that I need you to deliver to the Fire Temple,” he jostled off the edge of his desk and handed the padded envelope to Neji, who pocketed it carefully inside his backpack. “These scrolls are special fūinjutsu designed by one of my subordinates, Jiraiya-sensei, and myself.” He sauntered towards his desk and slumped on his chair, tugging at his trademark short-sleeved long white coat in order to get more comfortable. “As you all know, after what happened at the Fire Temple with the rogue member of the Shinobi Guardian Twelve and his posse, the monks there have been pretty paranoid and with good reason.” He paused and narrowed his eyes briefly as he pondered over the consequences should that jutsu ever resurface. “There are things stored inside that temple that should never see the light again.” 

Naruto didn’t know what those things his father was alluding to could ever be, and he was positive that father or not, Yondaime wouldn’t tell him. However, he didn’t know what had happened at the Fire Temple, while the rest of them seemed to. “Mmmhmm, what happened?”

Minato raised his eyebrows at that and turned his neck to face Jiraiya. “You didn’t tell him? Especially when I asked him to lend us the necklace?”

The fifty-four year-old scratched the back of his spiky head apologetically. “Well, you see… We were all in a rush, ehem, so I asked him to let me borrow it and then dashed off. And when I came back, I just wasn’t in the mood. The whole pseudo-jinchūriki fiasco had made me lose lots of precious research time -”

“He never tells me anything,” cut in Naruto, his nostrils flaring. “He asks for stuff and either never gives it back or never gives me an explanation. Just ask him about all the money he’s pillaged off me. Ryō-pinching perv.”

Why you little -”

“Now is not the time,” interrupted the prodigious Namikaze commandingly. Elbows almost digging a hole into his dark wooden desk, his left palm cupped his forehead leaving his right hand free to pinch the bridge of his nose in weary irritation. Really, was it that horrible and outlandish that he had developed a tea fetish considering the absolute loons he was constantly surrounded with? “When the Kyūbi attacked Konoha more than sixteen years ago, its chakra was so massive it kept leaking out of its body,” Minato kept his face hidden deftly under the pretext of massaging his lower eyebrows, keeping his voice as monotone and devoid of any feeling as humanly possible. “Kazuma, a former member of the Shinobi Guardian Twelve, collected the residual chakra and implanted it five years later into his five year-old child, Sora -”

“But that is madness! The Kyūbi cannot be hosted by anyone other than an -”

“I know, Naruto,” emphasised Minato, interrupting his horrified son before he revealed anything vital. “Believe me, I know that perfectly well,” he added tersely and narrowed his eyes at him, making the younger Namikaze feel as if he had been suddenly slapped.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Naruto sincerely, oblivious to the calculating but mostly confused looks he was receiving from the silent members of Team Gai, who, despite being privy to the story, were hanging on to every word their Hokage uttered. In the background, Jiraiya sighed tiredly and muttered something that went along the lines of ‘bleeding, tactless idiot’.

“Internal strife caused the Shinobi Guardian Twelve to split into two factions. One, loyal to the Daimyō, supported the existence of Konoha and its Hokage. The second wished to obliterate our village and unite the world under the banner of the Land of Fire. Sora’s father, Kazuma, belonged to this second group and was supposedly killed by one of the loyalists. The boy, thought an orphan, was lodged at the Fire Temple. However, being an unfit host, Sora naturally went berserk as soon as the Bijū chakra was embedded into him, causing severe devastation and loss of life at the Temple, albeit unwittingly.

“The boy grew up isolated and despised for something he had no memory of and no control over. Truthfully, not much is known about him until a few months back, when a gang of grave-robbers started digging up the tombs of the deceased loyal Shinobi Guardian Twelve. Before we knew it, Kazuma had returned and had unleashed the power within his unaware son on Konoha. We asked for your necklace via Kuchiyose, and we had our Mokuton user do what he could for the boy. But he was an unsuitable host, even if it was not the real Kyūbi and just a mere fraction. The lingering chakra scattered and left the boy with wounds that were so severe he was beyond our help.”

“And Kazuma?”

“Dead. I made sure of it.” There was absolutely no doubt in anyone’s mind what the Hokage had meant by that, his seething tone sending shivers down their spines. “A father,” Minato paused and pursed his lips, trying to no avail to calm his boiling emotions. His tongue licked his front teeth, his eyes blazing and looking anywhere but at his son, “should not curse his child’s life for his own petty Machiavellian interests.”

Naruto felt his throat burn and clamp down. His father’s abhorrence was thick and tangible and it left a piercing, acrid taste in his mouth. He tugged at his jacket’s zipper, trying senselessly to put an end to the suffocating feeling he had fallen prey to. Unbeknownst to him, Naruto was not alone. The dense tension that permeated the air caused the members of Team Gai to squirm unnervingly, wondering just what had they got themselves mixed in.

Jiraiya peered through the window, latched comfortably on its sill and gave a loud sigh.

Minato cursed inwardly. So much for keeping a cool demeanour. He ran a hand through his golden locks, tugging at its ends and exhaling loudly. Now he really needed his tea. “Considering it’s been thrown into the spotlight, and bearing in mind the Fire Temple has some, er, delicate valuables, they have asked for help. Hiruko-san, Jiraiya-sensei and I are expert fūinjutsu masters, and we have designed wards to protect that which must not see the light again. Your mission is to deliver the fūinjutsu we created and Neji-kun, I appoint you as captain, as I need you to use your advanced sight to oversee the sealing. Tenten-san, Lee-kun, and Naruto - you’ll be their guards.”

The newly formed team prepared themselves to leave before the Hokage raised a hand, halting them in their tracks. “Just one more thing. Team Eight has been deployed to the Fire Temple. I need them back for a scouting mission.” A thoughtful expression crossed his face. Rubbing his chin pensively, he added, “On second thought, I only need Shino-kun and Kiba-kun’s unique skills. There are plenty of Hyūga available at the moment, and I’m positive your cousin, Hinata-san, will be of much use at the Fire Temple. I’ve been told her eyes are exceptionally sharp at catching small details.”

Only the two blond-haired shinobi caught the displeasure on Hyūga Neji’s face as he gave his leader one last respectful bow before taking his leave, his new team trailing in his footsteps.

 

-OoOoOoOoO-

 

End Notes:
Thank you, Silverwolf1213 for your beta skills.

Ja na!
Vermouth
The Power of Youth by Vermouth
Author's Notes:
And that's the other half of the chapter. I do hope you will enjoy it.

Chapter Eight

The Power of Youth

 

“I need a basic summary of your skills, Naruto-san, in order to devise an efficient formation,” the newly appointed captain told the blue-eyed shinobi, leaning stoically on the gates of the village, unaware of the outrage oozing from the two gatekeepers, who could not believe that Hokage-sama was sending out his pregnant girlfriend on a mission.

Not ten minutes later, the four teenagers set out in an oddly-shaped formation, resembling a somewhat distorted rhombus. Naruto took the spearhead position, while Tenten and Lee behind him flanked his left and right sides, respectively, and Neji brought up the rear. However, Naruto was ordered to deviate slightly to the right, placing him closer to Lee, whereas Neji swerved slightly to the left, locating himself closer to Tenten. Apparently, this was for the benefit of the Byakugan, the Hyūga Clan dōjutsu. The white-eyed teen had quickly reformed the previously neat-shaped rhombus the moment he had activated his kekkei genkai and had swiftly altered the formation, alluding to the fact that Naruto’s chakra was blinding him.

“Forgive me, Naruto-san, but having you directly in front of my eyes is impairing my vision,” Neji apologised as he hopped from one frosted branch to another. “Not only do you have a ridiculous amount of chakra with the likes of which I have never seen, but it’s also the most unique chakra I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

The hooded jinchūriki grimaced inwardly while his other two teammates turned their heads to their captain, their curiosity more than piqued. “What do you mean, Neji?” asked Lee.

The white-eyed jōnin narrowed his eyes pensively at the back of the silent member. “As a member of the Hyūga Clan, I’m quite intimate with the nature of chakra. We know how it works, and we can see the shifts in the chakra vessels when the body is about to use, for example, an elemental jutsu. However, chakra in its natural form is mostly semi-transparent, and it flows like a stream through the body. However, in Naruto-san’s case, his chakra is so dense it’s almost solid.”

Naruto felt the back of his covered neck redden, aware of the inquisitive looks he was receiving. He could almost swear their prying eyes were digging a hole into his back. Pondering over his response, he cleared his throat, “Yeah, it’s a family thing. My mother was the same,” he said noncommittally.

“Was?” he heard Tenten ask.

The whiskered Namikaze gritted his teeth. He didn’t like being placed at the front of a squad he wasn’t yet familiar with – let alone being shoved into the spotlight. Especially when it concerned private matters such as his family history. “Yes, was. She died,” he replied curtly as he gave the gnarled branch beneath his feet a powerful kick, soaring up high through the frozen forest and unwittingly widening the distance between him and the rest of the group.

The weapon mistress was about to complain about the newest member breaking up their formation but the protest died on her half-opened mouth at the serious look and consequent headshake her eccentric spandex-clad teammate gave her. Silently, the three members of Maito Gai’s squad raised their speed up a notch to catch up with their somewhat irked comrade.

“Your skills are impressive, Naruto-san,” said Lee in a hopefully conciliatory and friendly tone. “Having the privilege of being personally trained by one of the Densetsu no Sannin must mean that you are an exceptionally talented shinobi. It makes me want to challenge you to a youthful spar.”

Naruto’s impassive blue eyes slid to glance at his round-eyed comrade, examining his expression unflappably as the four of them whizzed through the decaying vegetation. Sensing no malicious or gossip-mongering intent coming from the ridiculously unconventional teen, Naruto gave him an amused snort. “Believe me, I’m nothing like my shishō’s first student. Yondaime is beyond prodigious, whereas I’m just a keen hard-worker.”

“I find that hard to believe, Naruto-san,” piped in Neji in a monotone voice. “A shinobi of his calibre would not take on a student if he were completely helpless.” Naruto, being new as he was to the dynamics of Team Gai, did not catch the thinly-veiled insult directed at the handicapped member in the squad.

He did, however, cast a long silent look at the long-haired Hyūga, who, to his credit, did not flinch or skirt away. “Ero-Sennin would take on anyone who had the determination to never give up, no matter the odds.” He smiled under his mask, images of his years with the fatally lecherous shinobi flitting through his mind. “Besides, he owed my father more than a few favours.”

Naruto was satisfied to see that his new teammates would not press on his last statement any further, as his crisp tones when the subject of his mother had been broached had been enough to dissuade them from trying to fish out anything else where his family was concerned. Shrewdly, Naruto would hazard a guess at his squad believing him to be an orphan. He had stated that his mother had died, and then he had slyly used a past tense when he mentioned his father. Thinking that both his parents had passed away wouldn’t be that much of a stretch, especially considering how touchy the topic of his family had made him.

“So, Naruto-san,” began Tenten, a conspiring smile on her lips as she came up to his level. “Tell me,” she inched closer, lowering her voice to a minimum, “What’s under that hood and mask? Why do you hide your face that much?”

“This?” asked Naruto, pointing a gloved finger at his face. He chuckled amusedly at her. “Sorry, but I’m not taking them off. The sunlight makes my skin sparkle.”

He had meant it as a joke, but it soon dawned upon them that they did not know him well enough to catch that. Naruto coughed as an awkward silence fell around them, his cheeks flipping through several shades of red.

As they etched away from their hometown, the landscape began to change. Steadily, the frozen forest and clouded skies began to shift. The almost crystallised gnarled bois gave way to livelier woodland. The trees showed their yellowed leaves with pride, shards of sunlight filtering through  their thick boughs. The cold air sizzled as they glided through the timberland, their fleeting presence being noticed only by the few adventurous animals that dared to leave their dens in search of sustenance.

Naruto’s thoughts moved to his quaint, impromptu family, wondering how they were faring back in Konoha. He smiled imperceptibly under his black mask, the memory of his very frozen father popping into his mind. He had never asked him why Baa-chan had gone ballistic on him and destroyed his office’s heater. He made a mental note to question him about it whenever they came back.

The blond jinchūriki chuckled inwardly. His father was in for a surprise, and a nasty one at that. Well, at least for the village leader, that was. Honestly, the man ought to get out more. He was going to develop warts and a hunchback if he kept burrowing himself in his office. That couldn’t be healthy.

“I wonder what made the Hokage so mad,” Lee broke the reigning silence, startling Naruto. “I’ve rarely seen Yondaime-sama so angry.”

“Lee, do remember that Hokage-sama hates the Kyūbi with all his might. He lost his wife and unborn child when it attacked Konoha,” Neji reminded him. “In any case, we shouldn’t be talking about his private life and greatest tragedy. We’ll set up camp as soon as the sun sets.”

Naruto coasted through the darkening woodland in silence, steadying his furiously beating, treacherous heart.

 

-OoOoOoOoO-

 

Minato sneezed. He rose to his feet and extravagantly stretched his cramped limbs. It was high time he took a breather, for his stomach was wildly rebelling inside him. Curse his dissentious organs, he thought nonsensically as he ruffled his already messy blond locks.

                “I wonder how he’s doing,” Jiraiya whispered absent-mindedly as he peered at the white village, still perched atop the window sill.

                The younger man tried to fruitlessly organise his cluttered desk. “I’m sure he’ll be all right. Lee-kun and Tenten-san are fairly friendly. Although I have to admit that Neji-kun is a bit -” he paused as he pursed his lips, trying to find a suitable word to describe his childhood friend’s son, “-special. He’s too bent on the Hyūga ways. Hizashi blames himself for it.”

                The Toad Sannin smiled distractedly as he spotted in the distance a heavily-clothed dark-haired young woman dragging through the snowed lanes a haggard-looking blonde he was entirely too familiar with. It seemed that Tsunade had gone on another afternoon sake-spree and was now paying the price for her indulgence.

                “I’m not so sure about that, Minato,” frowned Jiraiya, his head turned back to his former student. “Naruto has never been without one of us three. He’s never been alone with his peers. He’s awkward and clumsy, and he doesn’t know how to mingle with people his age.”

                The forty-three year-old father felt as if he had been suddenly slapped. The older man’s words came back at him with full force, painfully reminding him that his own student and former sensei knew his son much better than he did, despite being his father.

                “I guess you would know better,” Minato grumbled, failing miserably at keeping the bitterness out of his voice.

                Jiraiya caught on to the Hokage’s tart tone immediately, his eyebrows arching so high they almost got lost in his hairline. “Don’t fret, kiddo. It’s not as if you had a choice. And don’t forget, Naruto is your son. Kakashi and I are family to him, that is true,” he said, a small grin grazing his lips as he hopped off the sill. He placed his warm hands on Minato’s shoulders, as he used to do so many years before, “But you are his father, his role model, and source of inspiration. You’re still his number one.”

                The village leader closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “I’ll take your word for it. I’ll just have to get to know him, ne?” he asked him, a tentative smile grazing his chapped lips.

                The white-haired Sannin clapped his left shoulder energetically, nearly succeeding at making Minato keel over. “That’s the spirit, Minato. Now, let’s have some dinner. I think that Iwa can hear your rioting stomach.”

                Minato shook his head as he bent towards his desk drawers, grateful for his sensei’s conciliatory words. His inner turmoil was still very much bubbling and sizzling deep inside his chest, but for the moment, he could put his emotional distress on hold. He drew out a couple of his food scrolls, his stomach jolting uncomfortably in his abdomen like an overzealous playful puppy at the prospect of food.

                Dexterously, he unrolled one of the scrolls with his left hand and he brought his right hand to his face. Extending his index and middle fingers, he brought them closer to his lips as he gave out a commanding, “Kai!”

                Minato blinked twice in confusion as Jiraiya’s rowdy laughter reverberated through his office. In front of him, instead of the neatly pre-packed food he had expected, a wad of bills sprung forth, along with a sheet of paper.

The handsome leader picked up the offending piece of paper gingerly, the Toad Sage peering at it from behind his shoulder, still chortling merrily. Before their eyes stood the characteristic chicken scrawl that could only belong to their favourite jinchūriki. 

Tō-chan,

I’ve kidnapped your food. You need to get out of that office. I’m tired of hearing the villagers say that you are a vampire who feeds off of criminals. Get a life, ‘ttebayo!

Your seriously amazing and stealthy son,

Naruto

Underneath his signature, the whiskered teen had added a caricature of himself, two fingers drawn into the V symbol, as if to further annoy his already vexed father, whose right eye was twitching involuntarily.  “Why that little -!”

 The Gama Sennin ruffled the smaller man’s blond hair. “See? What did I tell you? The kid is even looking after your health,” he told him vigorously. “Although it might’ve been that he was just too lazy to bother and pack his food for himself,” he added as an afterthought, scratching his chin meditatively. “Wouldn’t put it past him.” 

Minato rubbed his forehead resignedly. “All right, I guess I’ve got no choice. Let’s head out,” he grumbled in annoyance, taking off his customary short-sleeved white robe and donning on a thicker, crimson red coat. He glided towards the perch at the far end of the office and picked off a woolly white scarf and a pair of black gloves. “It’s probably warmer outside, anyway,” he added, mentally cursing the female Sannin for her temper.

“Speaking of which,” said Jiraiya in gleeful anticipation, his gait brisk as he exited the Hokage Tower. “What did you do to deserve Tsunade-hime’s infamous anger?”

The handsome leader raised a gloved hand and tugged at the scarf that hid his face up to his eyes. Frosty wind stinging at his already hurting lips, he muttered sheepishly, “I asked her to be a part of the Council. She believed that I was calling her ‘old’.” Minato’s cheeks were of a deep shade of pink. Whether the colour was due to the blizzard outside or embarrassment, the Toad Sage did not know. “No amount of me telling her that I liked her better than the Infernal Trio would make her calm down.”

The tall, ponytailed shinobi laughed uproariously at his predicament. “Serves you right. You should know better than to even suggest to a beautiful woman that she was getting old.”

“But I didn’t!” cried the Hokage in outrage, suddenly looking more like a petulant five year-old than the legendary ninja he was.

“You daft, poor boy. You asked her to be in the Council, which is composed of stuffy and wizened ancient bags. If that’s not saying ‘you’re old, it’s time to step down’, then I’ll eat my geta.” Jiraiya shook his head in barely concealed amusement, allowing his former student to nod amicably at the bowing passersby, who were more than elated to see their charismatic Kage gracing the streets with his presence. “Honestly, I can’t believe you were once married and know so little of the fickle ways of women. Especially considering how much of a spitfire the infamous ‘Red Hot-Blooded Habanero’ was.”

The blushing shinobi sputtered at him, indignant. “I’ll have you know that I’m knowledgeable enough in the matters of the fairer sex.”

The self-proclaimed ‘Super Pervert’ snorted in mock derision at that statement. “Is that so? Now, be truthful, Minato-chan. How long has it been since you got a little wild? Good Lord, if you were a woman, I’d tell you that your virginity has grown back, you bloodless, prudish-”

“Oh, shut up, Hentai-Sensei!”

 

-OoOoOoOoO-

 

There were many things Naruto liked about himself. He knew he wasn’t particularly smart, but he had the guts to go through anything until its bitter end. He wasn’t a born-prodigy, but he would never quit until he had his skills down-pat. Kakashi had once told him that his natural instincts were so obnoxiously superior that they compensated for his lack of brains. He was a fan of self-delusion; he was aware there was ample room for improvement.

However, he knew he was an unrivalled and uncontested champion at setting up camp. Years and years of a nomadic lifestyle with the entire firmament as his ceiling had taught him many things. By the time he was twelve, Ero-Sennin believed that if there was anybody out there in the Elemental Nations who was more proficient at setting up a tent, he would give up on women and declare himself celibate.

                It was for that precise reason that Naruto had offered to set up the green tent his team captain had packed, while the others went for wood to set up a fire. It was beyond Naruto’s mental abilities to understand why they needed three people just to pick up some firewood, so he simply gave out a casual shrug and proceeded to carry out the task at hand.

                The inside of the tent was spacey enough to fit four people comfortably in their respective sleeping bags. Naruto was glad about that. It would have been awkward to wake up in a tangled knot of limbs. To his utter mortification, the whiskered shinobi had the embarrassing tendency to hug tightly anything within his arms’ reach. Usually, the victim of his nightly grip-of-death was none other than his pillow. However, if he ever woke up attached to a very stoically miffed Neji-san or a flamingly youthful Lee-san, he would most likely just walk up to the nearest Akatsuki hideout and ask them to take his life, pretty please and thank you very much.

                “The power of youth is ablaze within me, Gai-Sensei!”

                Naruto nearly lost the motor control over his limbs as the unmistakable cry echoed through the small clearing he was in. The masked shinobi heaved out a sigh and relieved his hold on his own sleeping bag and exited the tent, ready to ignite the wood his teammates had brought and ingest some much needed food.

                However, he skidded to a halt and blinked twice in confusion at the sight of Lee-san, who was carrying an obscene amount of weight in his arms all on his own. “Where are Tenten-san and Neji-san?” he asked the spandex-clad shinobi as he pulled some of the lumber off him. “This is more than enough wood to set a bonfire, why are they looking for more?” he pressed on, organising the timber in a neat stack, ready to be set afire.

                To his utter mystification, the furry-browed ninja seemed as perplexed by his questions as Naruto was. “What do you mean? Neji and Tenten went out youthfully to catch our dinner,” he explained whilst picking up two fist-sized rocks, looking at them as if they were two pieces of the hardest puzzle he had ever been tasked to solve. “I think Tenten wanted deer for dinner.”

                Rock Lee did not have enough time to process what had just happened as a dark blur whirred past him. Perhaps he was imagining things, but for a moment, he could almost swear he had seen a flash of vivid yellow.  

-OoOoOoOoO-

 

“Ah, that was absolutely delicious. Thanks for the invite, Minato,” Jiraiya wheezed happily as they exited the town’s most famous barbeque restaurant. The heavily-clothed leader nodded respectfully at the plump owner, who was fervently expressing her desire to see them again and soon, such an honour it was to cook for Hokage-sama.

                Walking away from the bistro, Minato picked his now painfully empty-feeling wallet and exhaled loudly before pocketing it. “Yes, well, it was the only way to shut you up,” he sulked, tucking his white scarf cosily around his neck with his gloved hands. “Honestly, you are a bad influence. It’s no wonder he chose to swing the other way,” he asserted, drawing his heavenly-thick coat close to his body and turned to the left, headed towards the Hokage Residence.

                The Toad Sage guffawed at that, to Minato’s absolute bewilderment. “If that idiot thinks he’s fooled me even for a second with all the ‘Stop it, Ero-Sennin, I like boys!’ drivel,” Jiraiya gesticulated wildly, rising his naturally grave voice to an ear-splitting shrill pitch, “I’ll declare my undying love for Orochimaru and I’ll quit as a shinobi and join a circus.”

                The handsome leader gave him an appraising look. “No, you’d be better off as a kabuki actor,” he teased before turning serious. “But anyway, what do you mean? He told us himself about his personal preferences,” he added lowering his voice as jōnin Yūhi Kurenai and Sarutobi Asuma walked past them, hand in hand, lost in their own little world.

                “He just does that to rile me up,” Jiraiya muttered, his head turned back to the genjutsu specialist. To be precise, his eyes were set on her very nice-looking rear. Really, that area of her anatomy had to have a magnet on it: he simply could not draw his eyes away from such perfection. Hopefully, he would catch her at some point basking in the warmth of the blissfully scorching waters at the local hot springs.

                Minato sighed despairingly. Eyes shut tightly, he extended his right arm backwards and deftly tugged at his sensei’s ear, not caring if he was being too forceful or not. “Stop it, Sensei. Asuma will have your hide after Kurenai-san happily beats you to a bloody pulp if you keep that up. And I won’t lift a finger to help you.”

                The ponytailed pervert rubbed his hurting appendage, disgruntled. “Ungrateful Namikaze brats, the both of you.  You owe me a nightcap for this, you do,” he sneered, making the sturdily-clad Hokage snort derisively. “You two are just useless without me. You, Minato, stink of frigidity; and I’m tired of hearing the other blond prat proclaim he plays for the other team when he can’t keep his eyes away from some pink-haired kunoichi he’s seen a couple of times.”

                The middle-aged father’s eyes opened like saucers at that. “Haruno Sakura? He fancies the Haruno Sakura – Tsunade’s number one apprentice?” A flash of sheer horror flared through his slanted eyes, his mind racing as he mentally pictured the product of mixing yellow and pink – orange! Vindictively, he thought that had to be why his son had developed a crush on the accomplished medical kunoichi: because of his fixation with that hideous colour.

                Jiraiya ogled at him briefly before bursting out in laughter, hands on his belly. “Oh man, that is just priceless!” he exclaimed as he used his left arm to lean on Minato’s shoulder for support, his back bent as his right hand clutched his already aching stomach. “C’mon, let’s go for that nightcap you promised me,” he panted, still amused whilst swinging his arm over the blue-eyed shinobi.

                “I never invited you. You invited yourself,” Minato retorted in vain, but nevertheless allowed himself to be dragged back home by the taller man.

                Silently, feeling himself being hauled back home by the thirsty pervert, he raised his head and stared at the barely visible winter firmament above. Such a pretty sight it is tonight, Kushina; you would have loved it, he thought with a wistful smile, blue eyes set on the twinkling and brightest star of them all.

 

-OoOoOoOoO-

 

As she waited, she drew out an arrow from the quiver and held it between the tips of her two index fingers. The russet-coloured eyes inspected it dutifully, carefully going through every little detail.

The shaft and nock were sturdy, rigid and made of the deepest black, while the fletching, spine and head were pure silver. She smiled almost lasciviously at it. If that arrow hit its target, then there was no hope for the poor soul inside the body. Truthfully, her father was unsurpassed at the difficult art of weapon crafting.

She crept stealthily along the dark forest, gliding away from the light shed by the waning moon above. The darkness of night hid her entire body as she pressed her back against the cold, gnarled bark of the tree, her eyes tracking every single of her quarry’s movements.

She didn’t need her teammate telling her the location of her prey. She may not have the almost all-seeing eyes of the Hyūga, but she was a huntress and weapons were her most faithful companions. She picked up her silver composite bow, an arrow held between her index and middle fingers. Carefully, she pulled back the sturdy string. With her fingers, she set her arrow in place and raised the bow up to eye-level.

Thirty feet away, her unaware prey grazed pitifully at the almost barren land. For a moment, the kunoichi could swear that there was a little voice inside her pleading with her, begging her not to do it. She shook her head and pulled the string backward, her fingers feeling the pressure building up around her bow. She set her eyes on the ribcage of the unsuspecting herbivore and waited. Archery was about patience, about the art of stalking your prey, about the elegance of keeping your hold on the arrow until the last moment.

She watched, almost transfixed, how the arrow shot forward when she released her hold on it. Mesmerised, she saw the rigid wood curve itself upwards, the head shining, and the fletching whistling.

For a fleeting instant, she couldn’t react as she watched her prey scamper away in fright. Instead of the perfect bull’s eye she had envisioned, her beautiful arrow stood high up in the air in its rightful trajectory, but in the hands of a masked shinobi with blazing, steel-blue eyes.

Why did you do that?” she hissed icily, already recovered from her transitory blank spell. Anger rising, she almost didn’t sense her white-eyed teammate approaching, passive disapproval etched on his pale visage.

Naruto lowered his arm and walked up to the vexed kunoichi, releasing his hold on the shaft of the magnificently crafted arrow. The angered girl snatched it quickly away from him, making the blond ninja shrug noncommittally at her. “I’ve brought more than enough food, there’s no need to hunt tonight.”

The team leader frowned at him in displeasure, his back leaning against a tree. “You should keep the food you packed for an emergency, Naruto-san.” His left feet kicked the base of the knotted trunk, his back arching as he leapt off. “You should not have interrupted Tenten’s hunt.”

The sound of heavy footsteps hit their ears, their three-way tension breaking fleetingly. Seconds later, the worried quaint face of Rock Lee appeared. “What’s all the unyouthful commotion about?” he asked apprehensively.

Naruto sighed under his mask, a wisp of frozen air escaping his mouth. “I have more than enough to sustain me for an entire month.” Avoiding their gaze, he initiated a brisk pace, headed towards their location for the night. “And yes, I had to.” He turned his hooded head back towards the glaring kunoichi, piercing her with steely eyes. “If you are so intent on hunting, then at least go for the males, never a doe.” The Kyūbi container pointed his hands at the sterile landscape. “Can’t you see it’s a hard season for the herbivores? There’s just not enough food around for them. And if you kill the doe, you will make her fawn starve to death.”

The fire Lee had lit sizzled and crackled mirthfully, licking at the supplicant and crumbling logs.  Naruto plopped down in front of the mesmerising flames, retrieving the backpack he believed the green-clad ninja must have placed there. Hastily, he drew out eight of his father’s food scrolls, throwing two of them at each of his teammates. “I don’t know about you, but when I was little, I read a story about a young fawn whose mother was killed. It’s a childhood trauma.”

Needless to say, dinner was a very awkward affair. Naruto kept picking at his food and swallowed it without his usual enthusiasm. Not even thinking about his father’s stunned face when he realised that his son had nicked his food could bring up his spirits. He twitched in his makeshift position, his head lowered to avoid the constant looks he was receiving from the members of his squad.

“You do miss your mother, don’t you Naruto-san?”

The sudden voice startled the caged teen as he looked up from his now porridge-looking meal. It had been the eccentric shinobi who had spoken, and as Naruto peered at him, he realised that he wasn’t being looked at like some bizarre attraction at a freak circus show. Lee-san stared at him with his impossibly round and comical eyes with nothing but innocent curiosity and appreciative interest. “Aa,” he answered succinctly, a nostalgic smile playing on his lips. True, he had never really known his mother. But his father had spoken so often about her and with such unwavering love that he had felt as if he did know her as he grew up. And then, when he ripped off the seal of the Kyūbi’s cage, Kushina and Sandaime no-jiji-chan had appeared out of thin air to help him.

His mother had been a kind and fiery woman. Quirky, finicky and with a short fuse. But she had loved both him and his father so deeply and so madly that he had cried for days on end after his brief encounter with her. Even though the time they’d spent together had been laughably short, she’d left her everlasting mark on him.   

“I do truly believe that parents are the closest thing to a god each of us will ever see,” he told them distractedly, his dilated slits reflecting the fizzing flames before them, its colour reminding him of his mother’s vibrant red hair. “But you know, she lives in me.” He wasn’t lying; she had literally lived inside him until her chakra had faded. “She watches over everything I see.” At least, he wished she did. He hoped that she was happy, wherever she was. “Into the water, into the truth, in my reflection -”

A dazed expression crossed his suddenly blank face, to the other teenagers’ complete puzzlement. “Sorry, that’s The Lion King.”

At the sound of three foreheads hitting the ground, Naruto sighed in defeat; he’d gone and done it again. Cursing his bumbling nature, he sprung to his feet. Without giving them the briefest opportunity to stop him, he hastily offered himself to carry out the first watch. As quickly as he could, he fled the campsite.

It didn’t take him to long to find a suitable watch-post. Hidden behind a massive rock that was oddly enough shaped like the back of a comfortable and backwards-tilted chair, he quickly assumed the lotus position. Clapping his gloved hands together, he closed his eyes and focused on the natural energy around him.

The tiny tabby owl perched atop his head took its flight the moment it sensed the small vibrations of footsteps echoing through the wasteland. Naruto did not need to open his eyes; he already knew the chakra softly approaching him belonged to none other than the furry-browed shinobi. Although why his chakra seemed so unnaturally underdeveloped was a mystery to him.

“Hello, Lee-san,” he whispered tentatively.

“May I?” Lee asked cautiously, pointing at the ground next to the masked shinobi.

“Go ahead,” replied Naruto unemotionally, eyes still closed.

Heavily bandaged hands picked at the few fallen and crispy leaves in silence. “I’m an orphan, too,” the slightly older ninja admitted in a soft voice. “I think you have bright flames of youth within you, Naruto-san.”

The night’s heavy cloak of darkness obscured the normally evident eyes of the young jinchūriki, now even more noticeable as he had entered Sage Mode. Naruto turned his head to his eccentric peer, levelling him with his gaze before crinkling his eyes in a very Kakashi-like smile. “Thanks. I think.”

He bent his neck backwards; his skull produced a deaf sound as it gently hit the sturdy rock behind him. His gloved hands kneaded the hard earth beneath him whilst he gave out a sleepy sigh, mentally drained. The muscles in the back of his neck pulled a herculean effort to lug his heavy skull upwards, allowing his eyes to rake through the entire width of the dark, overcast skies above.

“My mother used to love stargazing, it was her hobby,” he told Lee, not truly understanding why he was revealing such a silly and yet important little fact. “My father tried to teach it to me when I was little; something to remember her by, you know?” He shook his head, snorting amusedly as memories flashed inside his brain. “Tō-chan tried his best, but he was absolutely hopeless. Wouldn’t even surprise me if he thought the moon was just another big star.”

He remembered that Ero-Sennin loved to tell his father just how much he sucked at astronomical knowledge. He used to say that it was refreshing to see that even the mighty Yondaime Hokage was rubbish at something.

Naruto lifted his left arm and pointed his index finger at some spot up above, although Rock Lee couldn’t tell precisely where. “See that rectangle-like shape up there, with a tail sprouting from it? That’s the Ursa Minor Constellation.” Naruto shrugged casually, lowering his arm and hugging his knees. “It doesn’t look like a bear to me, but some old western punks who liked kinky stuff and lived thousands of years ago thought it did and named it so.” He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Personally, I think they were on a magical mushroom high and what have you…”

Miles and miles above their heads, his mother’s favourite star, Polaris, shone brightly on that chilly night.

 

End Notes:
Thank you, Silverwolf1213, for yu fantastic beta skills.

Ja ne!
Vermouth
Unforgotten by Vermouth
Author's Notes:
I hope you will enjoy this chapter. Happy New Year!

Chapter Nine

Unforgotten 

 

Esteemed Hokage-dono,

I am trying to convey in this letter my deep gratitude towards your person and your hardworking shinobi; the help you have so graciously offered is indeed invaluable to our still recuperating nation. I am more than impressed at your timely actions, it seems that your ‘Yellow Flash’ moniker does not only apply to the battlefield. It also warms my heart to know that you would be willing to draw once more a bond of friendship between our two villages now that I have been instated as the head of my village and that the reign of terror of Yondaime Mizukage is finally over. Selfless men are so hard to come by in this wretched shinobi world.

                I have already dispatched my most capable shinobi to Konoha. I believe they should be arriving at some point tomorrow, the last day of the year. I am dreadfully sorry if my men put a halt to your well-deserved rest, but I took your advice on the Akatsuki matter and I fully agree with you on the belief that we must take action against this group. Not even in my wildest dreams can I fathom the devastation an organisation of S-ranked shinobi could wreak should they get their hands on all of the eight Tailed-Beasts.

                Thank you, once again, for your most appreciated help.

                Yours truly,

                Terumi Mei,

                Mizukage of Kirigakure no Sato

PS – Rumour has it that you are the most handsome man in the Five Elemental Nations. It is unfortunate that the Council of Kiri is exclusively composed of jealous men.

Minato lowered the letter in his hands, his initially pleased expression at seeing his carefully constructed plans coming into fruition turning into a confused, blank stare at the last two lines. He shook his head vigorously, his blond hair reflecting the unseasonal morning sun and pushed his puzzlement out of his mind. It was not the time to dwell upon the incomprehensible meaning of the Mizukage’s bizarre post data. He had too much work ahead of him to allow himself such liberties.

He folded the neatly written letter and put it away for the time being, placing it inside an important-looking folder and stacking it in one of his desk’s drawers, locking it and pocketing the key in one of the numerous compartments his flak-jacket offered.

His elbows found two clutter-free spots on the surface of his littered desk. He brought his hands together and intertwined his fingers, providing a makeshift hammock for his forehead, a position he usually took when he needed to clear his mind.

He found it highly ironic that diplomatic conversations with Kirigakure, a village Konoha had been at odds with for a very long time, were going much better than the exchanges between Suna and Konoha, the former being a village they had been allied with since the end of the Third Shinobi War. He snorted derisively to himself. It was true that the hidden shinobi villages in Hi no Kuni and Kaze no Kuni were formal allies; but the truth be told, the Hokage got along better with Uchiha Fugaku’s stinky toilet than he did with the Kazekage. Minato was aware that on the subject of Tailed-Beasts and jinchūriki, his cold objectivity had packed up and left for an alternate dimension never to come back; but it was simply beyond him to comprehend why would anyone subject his own flesh and blood to the horrors of hosting one of the Nine – especially the Shukaku.

Yondaime Hokage was no fool: he knew the military power a jinchūriki brought to its nation had unrivalled potential. However, that case could only be held true if the container could draw out the beast’s chakra, or at least some of it, without going insane. As far as he knew, only Killer Bee-san and his own son had been successful at that.

Minato had also held the dubious pleasure of meeting the second Ichibi jinchūriki on the battlefield many, many years ago. To put it mildly, it had been the single bloodiest carnage the then young jōnin had ever witnessed. The poor soul containing the psychotic demon had massacred friends and foes alike, unable to keep the reins of the dual existence within him. Memories of that particular bloodbath still sent shivers down the spines of the few war veterans who had survived it, Yondaime Hokage among them.

The identity of the hosts of the Tailed-Beasts’ was considered a national secret, which of course meant that everyone knew it. Sabaku no Gaara was known through the entire shinobi world, his name rippling fear and abhorrence the moment it escaped someone’s lips. The current Ichibi host was apparently even more unstable than the previous jinchūriki; tales of his insanity had spread wide since he had been an infant.

Truthfully, Minato pitied the boy and hated the father.

A soft knock on his door snapped him out of his reverie. “Come in.”

To his surprise, a serene Sarutobi Konohamaru stepped into his office, the bland expression on his normally irate face faintly spooking the blond Kage, who had already prepared himself for an oncoming attack. “Ah, Konohamaru-kun. What can I do for you?”

“Where is the Boss?”

“The ‘Boss’?” asked the blond leader, perplexed, unfurling his interlaced fingers.

The young boy nodded energetically. “Yes, Naruto no nii-chan - the Boss, kore.” He gave his ridiculously long blue scarf a sharp tug before wrapping it around his neck. “I’ve been asking everywhere, but nobody seems to know him. I wanted to show him the jutsu he taught me. I think I’ve finally mastered it.”

“Oh?” pressed on Yondaime, pushing the little annoying voice that told him he shouldn’t be wasting his time like that to the back of his mind. “What jutsu did Naruto teach you?”

The youngest Sarutobi peered at him intently, his face in a pensive frown, almost as if he were facing a tough choice, before he finally shook his head vigorously. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. The Boss said that I could use this jutsu on anyone except on you.” He scrunched his nose, belaying his confusion. Minato thought he made a dead-on impression of a grumpy squirrel. “He said it would freak him out if it worked on you, kore.”

Now Minato was curious. What jutsu could have Naru -

“Kakashi,” Minato uttered, frowning.

Konohamaru looked at him as if he had sprouted another head. “No, I’m Konohamaru. Ko-no-ha-ma-ru, remember? Are you all right, Blondaime?”

The young Sarutobi’s reply and worried questions were ignored. The Hokage rose gracefully and swiftly to his feet, and then wheeled on his heels, his trademark robe undulating softly in his spin. Back turned to the preteen, Minato raised both his arms and slid the massive window behind his desk open. He placed a hand on its sill and perched his hips on the edge. Tilting his back forwards, he pushed his head and upper body out. Konohamaru gasped shrilly and rushed worryingly to his side, believing for one second that his leader, overcome by a bout of temporary insanity, was going to off himself.

Oblivious to the young boy’s quandary, Minato turned his tilted head to his quaintest student, who was plopped idly on the reddish and crystallised tiles outside his office. The jaw-long locks on the left side of his face slithered annoyingly to his pursed lips. “Kakashi, you should start using the door,” the handsome leader scolded, pushing the bothersome blond tresses away from his mouth. “You’ll freeze to your death one of these days if you keep this up. I might not always be inside my office to open the window.”

“Sensei, you are always at the office,” the one-eyed jōnin replied in a blasé manner as he hopped in. “Wouldn’t surprise me if you had a portable toilet hidden somewhere around.” Minato rolled his eyes at him, but Kakashi flippantly ignored him for his gaze was fixed on the youngest Sarutobi. He still managed to look thoroughly bored, though. Minato believed his student keenly practised his vacant expressions in front of a mirror at his house. “Oh, Konohamaru-kun, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at the Academy?”

Unbeknownst to them, the brown-haired boy wondered whether he’d end up being as insane as the two men in front of him when he got older. It seemed like a recurrent condition for the ninja of the Leaf. “Tomorrow’s the last day of the year. We don’t have classes.” He held back on the urge to add ‘dummy’, even though the word just begged to be said.

The Hokage clicked his tongue, drawing the attention back to him. “Konohamaru-kun, I’m sorry to cut this meeting short, but I must ask you to leave,” he said in a soft voice, trying to sound as placating as he could. After all, ever since the boy had met his son, he seemed to have stopped being in a constant state of anger, and the fierceness that propelled him into challenging the Hokage to a duel at every chance appeared to be blissfully gone. “However, I think I’ll swing by the Sarutobi compound tonight.” He walked up to the preteen and placed a hand on his head, ruffling his brown hair as he gave him a kind smile. “After all, I still haven’t told you about the first prank I pulled on your grandfather when I was at the Academy. It’s a thrilling tale, I assure you.”

Konohamaru blushed, pleased and awed at the Hokage’s promise and left the room swiftly without a complaint.

Kakashi whistled softly, leaning idly on the wall next to the window, arms crossed over his chest. “And Naruto wonders who I got my sweet-talking abilities from. You’re such a shameless charmer, Sensei.”

Minato shook his head ruefully as he walked over his student, rubbing the back of his sore neck. The insane number of daily hours he spent with his neck bent as he went over his paperwork had given him what appeared to be a chronic kink in his cervical vertebrae. “Now that he’s not biting my ankles anymore, I’d like to establish a rapport with the boy. I do owe Hiruzen-sama.” He gave out an exhausted sigh, his eyes vacant, and his mind far, far away.

Suddenly, he shed his calm attitude, seriousness taking over. “But never mind that now. News?”

Any former hint of amusement, vague as it always was on the no-matter-what unflappable jōnin, vanished in that instant. He gave out a weary sigh and shook his head. “Leader Shibuki confirmed Jiraiya-sama’s suspicions. Takigakure’s jinchūriki went missing on the eighteenth of June. Akatsuki has seized both the Sanbi and Nanabi, at least that we know of. It doesn’t seem far-fetched to believe they are after all nine of them.”

Just then, a needle could’ve been heard as it fell to the floor.

They won’t be getting their hands on the Kyūbi.”

Imperceptibly, Kakashi took a step back, his pointy scapulae almost digging into and scraping the wall behind him as shivers rippled down his spine. His one visible iris seemed to be almost vibrating, his brain bombarding him with bloody memories he had buried deep within his brain.  

Downwardly-curved, aggressive, blond eyebrows, white lips drawn together into a thin, ruthless line and those cold, cold pitiless blazing blue eyes that seemed to incinerate the very sizzling air around them: in a flash, the kind sensei he knew so well was gone and before him stood the terrifying Yellow Flash of Konoha, the hardened and unforgiving warrior of the Third Shinobi World War.

Kakashi raised his open hands in a conciliatory manner, hesitating before placing one of them on his mentor’s shoulder, eyes opening wide in shock as he felt the body under his appendage throbbing in barely restrained rage, the furious torrent of flowing blood inside his arteries pumping powerfully against the skin of Kakashi’s palm. “It’s all right, Sensei. Nobody’s going to get Naruto - he’s safe.” He let a bit of his strength pour into the muscles of his hand, grasping tightly the pointy curve of the older man’s shoulder. “Nobody even knows that he’s the Kyūbi’s host. Everyone believes that the Shinigami claimed the beast when Sandaime-sama died.”

Those last words seemed to do the trick. The pulsing and simmering wrath dwelling inside Minato deflated. “I’m sorry, Kakashi,” he apologised sincerely. Chuckling darkly, he added, “It seems I can’t keep my cool when it comes to Naruto.”

The one-eyed jōnin detached his hand from its previous location and gave him a lazy shrug. “He’s your son,” he replied.

Minato tried to laugh, but only a strangled, mirthless, and guttural gurgle came from his throat. His student’s answer had been simple and obvious, short and to the point. And yet, it explained each and every single of Minato’s actions and thoughts. Hazily, the image of a newborn blond baby slid into his mind. He looked down at his hands, his palms and fingers remembering the toddler’s warm weight. His ten digits twitched, mourning the long past loss. He closed his eyes, and his nostrils flared at the sudden and sharp intake of air. Slowly and unwittingly, the muscles around his mouth stretched, and a small, nostalgic, but oh so true smile slid into his lips.

He exhaled loudly, the tips of his blond hair swaying to the sudden breeze. The raging intensity that had razed through him before evaporated completely, leaving him beyond drained. He opened one eye and gazed at his student, the corners of his lips still arched upwards. “That he is, Kakashi. That he is.” Almost painstakingly, he dragged himself to his desk and let his tired body fall unceremoniously on his chair.

“Oh, before I forget – here, I intercepted this. It’s a message for you,” said Kakashi, as he rummaged through his flak jacket’s numerous pockets. “Ah, here it is,” he added in indolent relief the moment his fingers grasped the cylindrical object.

Minato took the scroll gingerly, dearly hoping that he wasn’t about to receive more bad news. The knot in his gut, however, whispered at him that the contents of the scroll held nothing but more sombre news. He quelled the little annoying voice and raised his head. “By the way, Kakashi; I need you free tomorrow. The Mizukage has dispatched a group of her shinobi to Konoha. I want you to be in charge of the joint squad.”

His only living student straightened his back. “Oh?” he asked, the expression on his face showing such keen interest that Minato hesitated briefly, a tad spooked.

He flattened his fleeting doubts and gave him a grave nod. “A rogue from Mist has been seen in Fire territory.” He dropped the scroll in his hands and inched forward, his fingers bent and almost scratching the wooden surface of his desk. “You are looking for Number Six,” he whispered, glad that he did not need to give any further explanations if the sudden look of dawning comprehension on Kakashi’s face was anything to go by. “Keep that to yourself, but make sure that every Konoha shinobi understands this particular rogue nin is not to be killed, no matter what.”

“Wakata,” replied Kakashi seriously before he vanished in a puff of smoke.

Minato rubbed idly the left side of his nose, two of his fingers slithering to its bridge to pinch it. “All right, let’s get this over and done with,” he said, bracing himself as he picked up the discarded scroll and unfurled it.

Esteemed Hokage-dono,

I am deeply sorry to inform you that the Tsuchikage went berserk outright refused to read your letters. He told us to use them as toilet paper dispose of them as soon as they arrived; the grief over the Third Shinobi World War still weighs heavily on our leader’s heart. He has, however, ranted and raved insisted that I include his hatred feelings for you in this reply.

Before you read the Tsuchikage’s literal words I enclosed, please listen to my humble plead. Please, I beg of you, don’t go crazy do not take your rage out on this country and this village. If my leader’s actions cause you a grievous offence, I am more than willing to forfeit my life. Just please spare my family.

Yours in sincere regret,

Unnamed assistant of the Tsuchikage

Minato blinked several times, allowing his temporarily vacant brain to reboot itself. It took his coherent thoughts some time to reload, but when they finally did, he didn’t know whether to be faintly amused, downright horrified, or utterly miffed.

He leaned back on his chair, fidgeted on the seat, and crossed his arms over his chest. He tilted his head backwards, the back of his skull kneading comfortably on the cushy green-velvet back of his chair. His stare was fixed on the ordinary white ceiling above, and to anyone else Minato would have looked as if he had been caught in the middle of procrastinating; but the truth was that even though he outwardly appeared to be spacing out, his mind was going at a Hiraishin no Jutsu speed.

He shouldn’t have been surprised, not really, at the reply from the Hidden Stone. He shouldn’t have been startled by the ridiculously terrified tones the uneven handwriting belayed: no doubt the Unnamed Assistant was shaking uncontrollably as he wrote it. He was slightly amused at the fact that the Unnamed Assistant had been so scared of him that he had forgone the usual diplomacy niceties. However, he couldn’t help but wonder with dim trepidation just what sort of person did the citizens of Iwagakure no Sato thought him to be. He snorted wryly. While he was a hero and a saviour revered by all in Konoha for his exploits, he was the second coming of the Jyūbi in Iwa.

He cast one last sidelong glance at the scroll, his body completely still, before he shook his head and propelled himself forwards, extending his hands to grab the little piece of paper under the scroll and brought it to his face.

 

Get stuffed, Namikaze!

Minato snorted. Typical Ōnoki.

He heaved a sigh and rose to his feet, running his hands down his chest as if to get rid of some nonexistent dust. Slowly, he strode towards the window and placed a hand on it. A faint smile appeared on his lips at the sight of the village’s approaching end-of-year hustle and bustle. The usually spacious lanes seemed narrow and cramped, packed to the gunwales as they were with people. Villagers and shinobi alike glided through the crammed lanes in an almost possessed-like frenzy. Minato watched in idle amusement as he watched scores of villagers getting run over by one overzealous citizen carrying too many packages. His amusement turned into childish glee when he realised that overenthusiastic mountain-package carrier was none other than Uchiha Shisui, who bent and extended his back repeatedly in an ostensibly never-ending cycle of bowing to the latest villager he had knocked over, in a sheepishly apologetic manner, while his much more austere-behaving Uchiha companion rolled his eyes and picked up the numerous parcels scattered on the street.

Thinking about Shisui-san, whom he very much liked and valued, made his thoughts stray and wander to the dark corners reserved to the Uchiha Clan.  He brought his free hand to his mouth and kneaded his lips, his tongue rubbing the cavity of his mouth, as if he were trying to no avail to get rid of a sudden acrid taste. He curled the hand pressed against the window in a tense fist, his usually tanned skin blanching a few shades.

“Uchiha Ichizoku… What am I going to do? Fugaku, Mikoto… Why?” he whispered in torment, eyes shut tightly. Memories of a long gone past inundated his mind. He felt haunted by the happiness Kushina had expressed when she told him that her best friend Mikoto was with child; relaxed evenings at the Uchiha compound, celebrating the upcoming birth of Fugaku’s firstborn, basking in their camaraderie…

And then it had all changed. After the Kyūbi’s attack nothing was ever the same. Uchiha Madara, or whoever he was, had made sure of that. He had time and time again repeated to a sceptical Council that the mastermind behind the attack was the masked Uchiha, pushing the blame away from the rest of the clan, believing them to be innocent of the Kyūbi massacre. He hardened his heart and told the Council the objective facts, but deep down, he had to remind himself constantly that Mikoto would not allow a plan that meant the death of her best friend, his wife Kushina, to be carried out.

However, he had no excuse for their absence when the attack took place, and no Uchiha had given any sort of explanation. It was then that a vicious cycle of hatred and distrust started, and Minato did not know how to put an end to it without shedding blood. If not for Fugaku and Mikoto, people he had once cared about but currently were two complete strangers, then for Shisui and Itachi. For those two, for the future of Konoha, for his son… And for Obito.

“Orochimaru, Hoshigaki Kisame, Uchiha Madara…” he rested his forehead fleetingly on the cool glass, steadying his furiously beating heart, and gave it a light punch.  The image of the masked mastermind behind the Kyūbi incident floated into his mind, clear as if it had happened yesterday.

Hiruzen-sama’s sacrifice, back bent in a perfect arch as his body slumped lifelessly to the ground, a beatific smile on his face at the thought of dying for the good of his beloved village. The haggard-looking Kushina, happy in spite of her imminent death, her vitality inexorably ebbing away but remaining fiercely loving and kind to the bitter end. His own damn impotence - defeated by his aged predecessor  and unable to save his brave wife. And the crying blond child in his arms, cursed by his own to bear the burden of hatred from the moment he was brought into the world. 

He gritted his teeth in grim determination, fierce resolution spiking within him, eyes blazing.

“Akatsuki won’t get their hands on the Kyūbi. They won’t get their hands on my son.”

 

-OoOoOoOoO-

 

Perhaps it hadn’t been the best of ideas to go out for lunch, considering how sorely cramped the streets were. Then again, his son had left him no other option. He had no food in his office and hadn’t had enough time to restock it; so it was either eat out, or starve to his death. Minato, despite the piling and overwhelming evidence to the contrary, refused to identify himself was a masochist.

His belly felt uncomfortably full, he could feel the elastic band of his trousers painfully squeezing his waist. He was glad they didn’t have buttons, for he knew they would have already popped, given how much food he had ingested. It would’ve been utterly mortifying to have to walk while needing to constantly hitch up his trousers. He most likely would have given the passersby a flash of his underwear from time to time as well. He knew his obnoxious prat of a sensei would never let it go.

“Thanks again for the generous invite, Minato. I’m glad I didn’t fail you in your genin test for turning out to be a boy,” Jiraiya wheezed happily, arms raised and bent at the elbows, allowing his hands to cup the back of his head.

Minato stared at him in open disbelief, unconsciously avoiding the parcel-laden villagers. “You almost failed my genin team because I am a male?”

Jiraiya lowered his arms and turned to look at him. He arched his eyebrows, puzzled at his former pupil’s incredulity. “But of course. What?” he asked in amused sarcasm, “You thought I handpicked you as my student because you were the best in your year?” He snorted, deftly avoiding a zooming family of five running in the other direction. “Honestly, Minato, you should already know that I have a one-track mind.”

“But we were kids!”

The Toad Sage shrugged flippantly. “Yeah, at the time. But I thought you’d be a beauty when you grew up. Imagine my disappointment when I discovered you were a boy – my hopes of having a pretty girl adore me went down to the drain.”

The fact that his sensei seemed to carry some remnant grief over the unearthing of Minato’s true gender only sent the Hokage into a loop of chary revulsion. “There’s something really wrong with the three of you Sannin,” he muttered darkly. Orochimaru, the insane scientist with horrifying fetishes. Tsunade, the incurable alcoholic with a violence disorder. Jiraiya, who was so driven by his hormones that Minato suspected he must have had a pituitary tumour since his birth.

Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks, as a gruesome revelation struck him like thunderbolt. “And I let you spend ten years all alone with my only son!” he hissed in utter dismay.

“Huh?” the Gama Sennin asked blankly. “Oh, come on, Minato!” he cried, as the reason for the blond leader’s distraught tone dawned on him. “Be glad that Naruto isn’t the prude you are or you’d never have grandkids. How on earth did Kushina manage to deflower you, I’ll never know…”

Minato grumbled nonsensically, leading the older shinobi to roll his eyes at him, frustrated. “Oh, go and pray for the redemption of my sinfully damned soul or whatever, you frigid punk. I’m off to see Kitsuchi-san; I think a copy of my newest and yet-to-be-published Icha Icha book should prove to be enough of an incentive to make his stubborn coot of a father listen to reason.”

 Minato wanted to refute the claim of his so-called frigidity – really, just because he didn’t have his mind in the gutter at every waking second of his life did not make him any less of a man – but the incurable voyeur was already gone. He shook his head wearily and resumed his pace along the snowed lanes in blessed silence, turning to the left to go through a much more deserted street when he got fed up of skirting around the missile-like villagers, choosing to race back to his office through the old and unused districts of Konoha.

It didn’t take him long to quicken his pace. Despite the fact that he was inwardly grateful towards his son for forcing him to get out of his office, the eerie frozen weather was getting to him. It didn’t matter that he was wearing a pair of thick black gloves, he could feel his hands swelling agonisingly, and his fingers were steadily stiffening in a spooky way akin to the rigor mortis.  Checking that his scarf was as tightly wrapped around his neck and lower face as possible, and that his coat covered him to the best of its capabilities, he drew out a kunai and readied himself to perform the Hiraishin no Jutsu. He wasn’t about to stay out in that ungodly icy weather and risk freezing to his death. He had gone out, right? That should keep Naruto happy, he thought as he turned around the corner of a lacklustre building.

BAM.

WATCH WHERE YOU – oh, it’s you. Afternoon, Yondaime.”

Minato shed in the blink of an eye his true skin and assumed the outward personality of Konohagakure no Sato’s current Hokage. His back had lost its previous cold-induced hunch, his spine straightening to its limit and showing his true height. His face lost its genuine expressions and became the utterly calm and poised visage a powerful dictator should have.

“Good afternoon; Fugaku, Mikoto,” he said silkily, giving them a brief nod. His sharp mind did not fail to notice that while the head of the Uchiha Clan was staring at him unfazed, his wife had her dark eyes set on a small patch of skin above his left eyebrow. Pretending to be oblivious to her evasion, he turned to the two younger shinobi that accompanied them. “Sasuke-kun, Itachi-san; I trust you are enjoying yourselves in these few days of mandatory vacation?”

“Hnnnnn.”

Considering the length and pitch-fluctuation of the ‘hn’, Minato roughly translated it as a “Yes, thank you, we are having the time of our lives”. He mentally applauded Itachi, silently congratulating him for appearing to be as cold to him as the rest of the Uchihas were in the presence of his brother and parents.

“Yes, it was very gracious of you to spare my eldest this year, Minato,” Fugaku commented icily, to the Hokage’s warped amusement. The patriarch of the Uchiha Clan was not as skilled as his eldest son at hiding his feelings. That was why, sadly, Itachi was such a superb spy.

The blond leader waved a gloved hand dismissively. “Oh, it was no problem at all, Fugaku. I won’t deny that Itachi-san is an invaluable asset and is sorely missed when he is off duty, but every shinobi needs to have some days off.”

Mikoto nodded in agreement and placed a hand on her eldest son’s shoulder, her fingers grasping its grey-clothed curve tightly. Fugaku smirked at his superior, unaware of the half-angry, half-disappointed look his youngest was directing at him. “Indeed, Itachi is a true Uchiha, a living testament of the unparalleled skills of one of the founding clans of Konoha.”

Minato raised his eyebrows at that statement in mock delight. “I’d rather say that he is a valued embodiment of the Will of Fire that burns deep within each and every loyally dedicated Konoha shinobi. One bright and shinning leaf amongst the many beautiful leaves that compose the magnificent tree of Konoha.” Take that, Fugaku, a vindictive and disembodied voice added in his head.

Uchiha Fugaku bristled at the Hokage’s ostensibly placid comment. “Yes, well, as Hokage you must feel compelled to treat everyone the same – but we all know that there are some much more indispensable than others.”

Minato cocked his head, a wry smile playing sardonically in his lips. “There are some I hold close to my heart, never mind their skills or lack thereof. As Hokage, I see my shinobi for their qualities as people, not for their battle skills.” Involuntarily, he stood up straighter, his blond hair reflecting brightly the from winter sun. “After all, we all are one big family of shinobi. And as the head of this village, forgive me if I sound patronising, I feel like a parent – a fiercely protective father who will not let his family be harmed.”

Fugaku clicked his tone in distaste before schooling his features into a mordant expression. “Yes, it’s only normal you feel like that. After all, you must feel the need to compensate for the loss of your wife and unborn child all those years ago,” he sneered cruelly, his tart tone making Minato feel as if he had been viciously slapped.

Fugaku!” Mikoto cried with wide eyes, appalled, and tugged sharply at his sleeve. Itachi closed his eyes and turned his head from his father.

Bastard, thought Minato, gritting his teeth. Frozen billows of air emanated from his flared nostrils, obscuring the dangerous flash in his eyes. “Perhaps that is so. The grief over the loss of those dearest to me is something I hope you will never have to experience, Fugaku.”

The head of the Uchiha Clan bridled at the thinly-veiled threat. Good, thought Minato, let him reconsider; let him realise that I’m onto him. He raised his left arm and rolled up his coat and sleeve, his blue eyes opening wide at the sight of his watch. “Ah, time makes fools of us again, Fugaku,” he said suavely, lowering his arms. “I’m afraid I must cut this pleasant reunion short, as the safety, protection, and blooming of this village is a never-ending but oh so riveting task.”

“It was good to see you, Minato,” whispered Mikoto, clumsily trying to hide her shaking hands behind her back. She might have tried to look regal and dignified, but the Hokage saw her as a dwarfed and pathetic version of the woman he had once admired and respected. “I hope you’ll enjoy the festivities, too, if only for a little while.”

He nodded at her, a pleasant smile gracing his lips. “Thank you, Mikoto. Sasuke-kun, I’m looking forward to seeing the results of your hard training. I am positive I will be as spellbound by your kenjutsu proficiency as always.”

The handsome teen gave him a curt bow. “Thank you, Hokage-sama.” Although his tone gave nothing away, unflappable as he always was, Minato noticed the heavy-lidded eyes and the slightly unhealthy-looking tinges of purple below them. He shook his head inwardly and cursed the grown-ups in the Uchiha Clan. To put such mental strain on the youngest members… Unforgivable.

“Itachi-san.”

“Hokage-sama,” Itachi replied in feigned frostiness, his back jerking with spasms, as if he was trying to give him a respectful yet brief bow, but his displeasure and conceit prevented him from doing so. Minato had to applaud at his superb acting skills.

As he watched the family of four skirting away from him, step by step becoming four hazy blurs in the distance, Minato let the frosty snowflakes caress his blond hair and pink cheeks, his mind latching onto the prickly and stinging feeling each crystallised drop of water left on his skin.

His red coat clung piteously to his soaked body, ripples of shivers cursing down the length of his spine. His untameable spiked hair arched downwards like a willow tree, tiny rivulets of cold water plummeting to the cushioned white earth.

He stood alone in the deserted wynd, his previously indomitable air vanishing as the stiffness spread through his body. His hunching back seemed to fall into harmony with the meagre lacklustre buildings that surrounded him. Small and derelict edifices off the beaten track, forgotten and dilapidated, paint chipped off their walls and small piles of rubble at the bases.

He raised his head to the mosaic-like skies, pushing his plastered hair away from his face. His eyes followed the sinuous falling of snowflakes, mesmerised. He took in a sharp breath, the wintry weather making his lungs feel ablaze, and not for the first time, he felt old and bone-weary.

Minato raised a gloved hand and turned it to see his palm. He watched hypnotised as one, two, three, a hundred snowflakes lay down on his palm, losing their frosty beauty the moment they touched the black leather, melting into a pathetic puddle of unremarkable amorphous water. He curled his hand into a tight fist, the bones of his digits creaking like the hinges of an unused door. He stared at his clenched fingers, and wondered where had it all gone wrong, which road should he have taken.

He hadn’t been lying when he said that they were a family of shinobi, and he wanted a better future for all of them. Sparing one last vacant glance at the direction the Uchiha family had taken, he drew his drenched hand close to his chest.

Itachi, Shisui, Konohamaru, Sakura, Sasuke, Kiba, Shino, Lee, Neji, Tenten, Hinata, Shikamaru, Ino, Chōji – and Naruto. He could already feel it unravel inside him; it was nearly time for their generation to take over and leave him behind, an ageing relic of the past, a brightly shining star of a forgotten firmament, left to guide the young shinobi that came along, stepping away from the spotlight and fading into the shadows.

With a small tremor, he wished that the sins of the fathers would not be passed onto the sons. He closed his eyes and felt his steadily beating heart unwind and ablaze, as he mentally entrusted the next generation with his hopes and dreams for the future.

 

-OoOoOoOoO-

End Notes:
Thank you, Silverwolf1213, for proof-reading this chapter.

Happy New Year, minna-san!

Vermouth
Loneliness by Vermouth
Author's Notes:
DISCLAIMER: Kishimoto-sensei owns Naruto. I own tons of medical books. Huzzah!

Chapter Ten

Loneliness

“The situation is dire, Yondaime.”

                Minato arched an eyebrow in derisive contemplation. “I am well aware of that, Utatane-san.” He lifted the arm that had been previously placed comfortably on the sofa’s green armrest, leaving only the elbow on it. He pressed his left index and middle fingers against his forehead, while his thumb kneaded his jaw, bearing the entire weight of his tilted head.

                “Then what are you waiting for? You are putting all of Konoha at risk with your dilly-dallying!”

                He crossed his legs in calm silence, the velvety cushion under him sagging slightly at the shift of his weight. “If there is a way to put an end to this without the need to spill any blood, I believe it is worth the wait.” The Hokage hat swayed lightly over the edge of his knee like a dry pendulum, held idly between his right index and middle fingers. “I will not have an unnecessary massacre on my conscience.”

                “Ridiculous. ‘Unnecessary massacre’, you say? Is it unnecessary to eliminate a clan that may very well destroy the whole village? Is it unnecessary to exterminate a clan that is powerful enough to kill almost every single ninja in Konoha – let alone the civilian population? Fusakenna!

                “You are just like Sandaime – your cowardice, your blasted docile nature and your unwillingness to act when you must… That spineless attitude of yours will mean the end of this village – a village you were entrusted to care for and protect for as long as you live!”   

                Minato licked the front of his teeth, the tip of his tongue bulging under his closed upper lip. “With all due respect, you may fancy yourself as a part of the Council; but a member of it you are not, Shimura Danzō.” Eyes cold, he placed his hat on top of his head, set his hands on each side of his waist on the green two-seater upholstered canapé, and pushed himself to his feet. He straightened his Hokage robes in silence and then glided in cold fury towards the door. “Do not meddle in the affairs you know nothing of, Shimura.” He raised his left hand and placed it gently on the doorframe, and turned his head to the right in a ninety-degree angle, his only visible eye blazing icily. “Do not forget that I am Yondaime Hokage – dare to put a step out of line, and I will end you.”

                “Be reasonable, Minato. What Danzō says makes sense. You are more worried about the phantom menace of the Akatsuki – a very real danger to those villages with Tailed Beasts, but not to us -, while you seem to be taking very lightly the risk the Uchiha Ichizoku poses to Konoha. We don’t even know when they will attack, it could happen any moment!”

                Minato didn’t even spare them a glance. He gritted his teeth and stared at the wooden door for a few seconds and then cleared his throat, “Kyūbi no Jinchūriki or not, the Akatsuki threat is more real than you could ever imagine, Mitokado-san.” His nails wailed as he scraped the doorframe, and then his hand closed into a tight fist. “If nothing changes, the Uchiha coup will take place on June the eighteenth.”  

 

-OoOoOoOoO-

 

Esteemed Raikage-dono,

                I am writing to you in order to warn you in advance of a small squad of shinobi that were sent to Kaminari no Kuni to meet up with you. I have some very urgent news to share, and I would be most grateful if you could accept to meet my ninja, and listen to what they have to say. I am positive that the safety of your brother is of paramount concern.

                Konoha and I owe Killer Bee-san more than we could ever hope to be able to repay, and therefore, I feel I must do whatever I can in order to keep him safe. I do not know whether you are aware of it, but there is a group of S-ranked shinobi who call themselves ‘Akatsuki’ and whose primary intent is to capture all the jinchūriki; but for what purpose, I do not know.

Against such foes, enemies that have already captured two of the Tailed-Beasts, I feel that the Great Five Nations must put aside their hurt and grief over the tragedies of the past and unite against this one single deadly force.

The Mizukage and I have agreed that a Gokage Summit is in order; we are both hoping to create one strong allied power against this threat.

Yours sincerely,

Namikaze Minato,

Yondaime Hokage of Konohagakure no Sato

“This is rubbish,” Minato groaned, glaring hatefully at the apparently innocuous piece of paper in front of him. He emitted a guttural complaint and crushed the sheet into a crisp ball, rotated the upper half of his body while the lower half stayed put on his seat, and tossed the ball of paper, smirking when it landed perfectly into the laden bin. His brief satisfaction vanished, however, the instant he realised that he would have to draft the letter to the Raikage again. Actually, he would have to write it over and over again until he was somewhat satisfied.

He closed his eyes and rubbed the skin below his eyebrow, careful not to accidentally poke at his eyes.  Taking in a deep breath, he shook his head vigorously, bracing himself and mustering his remaining energy in order to sketch yet another letter.

Feeling inexplicably pumped, he nimbly dipped the brush into the ink bottle and briefly rested the bristles on its neck, letting the excess ink slide and then drip back into the bottle. His hand paused in midair, the previous baffling burst of energy deflating quickly like a balloon that had just popped.  He let out a piteous whimper and stashed the pencil away in a rather cantankerous mood.

Minato pushed back his chair and rose to his feet, his Hokage robe undulating as he spun on his heels and strode towards the bookshelf at the far end corner of his office. His index fingers absent-mindedly traced the spines of the tomes as his eyes roamed through the numerous titles. He exclaimed in faint satisfaction when he found the battered copy of an old Uzumaki Fūinjutsu book, and then he walked back towards his desk, smiling dimly as he felt energy racing back through his body.

He opened the tattered volume and collapsed clumsily onto his chair, bending his neck and pouring over its contents. Almost possessed, his mind started conjuring possibilities and modifications of standard seals. He had to find a way to counter a powerful time-space jutsu to fight and beat once and for all Uchiha Madara, and coming up with a seal that could put a stopper to that nasty technique of his would be the first step. He’d have to devise a powerful fūinjutsu, but it would have to be one that would remain pretty non-specific, due to the fact that the precise details of how Madara’s technique worked evaded him. Of course, he could come up with many ideas as to how it was operated, but they were nothing but wild guesses at best. And considering who their foe was, Konoha could not afford to be lax on their counter-measures. Therefore, he reckoned he would have to conjure up a seal that could work for any time-space ninjutsu he knew, including his own masterpiece, the Hiraishin no Jutsu. He would have to -

Knock, knock.

Minato sighed. Sometimes, he regretted becoming Hokage. Especially when he was interrupted – which happened constantly, much to his chagrin. “Come in.”

The door creaked open with an unpleasant shrill, reminding Minato that he had to grease the hinges, before the four ninja and a ninken he had been expecting ambled in. He switched off the lamp on his desk and closed the Fūinjutsu copy, stashing the book and his neat scribbles unevenly inside a drawer.

The ceiling light flickered and buzzed, drawing his attention momentarily towards it, before he focused on the newcomers.  “Ah. Shino-kun, Anko-san, Kiba-kun, Akamaru-chan, Kurenai-san; come in, come in.” He rose from his seat and placed a candid smile on his face, walking towards the entrance and closing the door softly. “Glad you could make it in time, Team Eight.”

Dressed in a dark grey two-piece suit, Inuzuka Kiba frowned and narrowed his slit-like eyes, a longer than average canine resting over his lower lip. “What’s the big deal, Hokage-sama? Without Hinata our team feels incomplete,” Inuzuka Kiba complained, scratching one of the customary Inzuka dark red inverted triangles on his cheeks. His dog Akamaru barked in loud agreement. “I don’t really fancy leaving her with Team Weirdo and that new punk, that Naruto bloke.”

Anko shifted her right arm, pushing the beige overcoat she wore away from her waist, revealing her oddly attractive fitted mesh body suit, and placed a hand on the curve of her waist, tiny wrinkles appearing on the dark orange miniskirt as she curled her fingers on her hip. Cocking her head at Kiba, she asked with an almost lascivious smile on her lips, “What new punk? How old is he? Is he the bad boy type -?”

Anko!” Kurenai hollered, her red eyes blazing in embarrassment. “Restrain yourself. We’re in the presence of Hokage-sama.”

Anko pouted. “You are no fun, Kurenai. You know how much I enjoy traumatising ‘em little, squeamish virgin boys…”  

Minato managed to remain in stoic silence during the whole Naruto debate. Inwardly, though, he was making a mental note to keep the local dominatrix away from his still very innocent son. Heavens help him if he ended up with a grandchild with Anko for a mother. He mentally shook his head, forcing those eerie thoughts to scatter.

“Not your type, Anko-san,” Kiba said nonchalantly, raising both arms to cup the back of his head. “He looked like the result of a ‘wild’ night between Shino and Kakashi-sensei.”

Minato blinked and then cleared his throat, gathering the straggling attention towards him. It was high time he cut in before the conversation got any weirder. “Everyone, I apologise for assigning you a mission at this time of the year – as I’m sure that you’d rather celebrate the start of a new year with your respective families and friends -, but this is one of a vital matter.”

He smiled faintly at the looks of rapt attention on their faces and then rolled his eyes in exasperation. He spun on his heels and slid the window open. “Use the door, Kakashi, the door.”

Kakashi hopped through the window indolently, closing it behind him. “I’m a ninja. Doors are for civilians, Sensei.”

“You are a monkey, that’s what you are,” Minato mumbled darkly through gritted teeth. He shook his head and walked towards the bandage-dressed Yūhi Kurenai, then inserted one of his hands inside his pocket and produced the small photo the Mizukage had given him. He was about to hand it to her when he stopped in mid-action and turned to look at his former pupil with an inquisitive look in his eyes. “I take it that they have already arrived?”

“Aa. They arrived three hours ago. I left them at the hot springs to get some rest, and told them to rendezvous with you atop the Tower at seven PM, which is in, mmhmm, -” he paused and rolled up his left sleeve to check his watch, “- five minutes.”

Minato’s left eye twitched. “You got your hands on the unpublished copy of Jiraiya-sensei’s latest book, didn’t you?”

Kakashi raised his hands in a placating manner. Indolently, he said, “Oh, no, no. You see, I was on my way here when I found a small child who had lost his mother, so of course I had to help -”

But nobody was listening. Yūhi Kurenai was sighing in exasperation. Akamaru was cleaning his fur. Anko was muttering about the stupid erotic novels that never got their facts right – and cursing some misogynistic Freud person, whoever he was. Kiba seemed to be having trouble at disguising his excitement at the mention of said book. And Aburame Shino – er, was he even there? Minato had to blink twice to realise that, indeed, the Aburame heir was present.

“Minna-san,” Minato said commandingly, his face completely bereft of its usual friendly candour, “I am assigning you as the Konoha representatives for this joint mission with Kiri,” he raised his hand, silencing an about-to-burst Inuzuka Kiba with that gesture. “I cannot stress enough how important the success of this mission is. Not only we will land a heavily blow on the Akatsuki, but a strong alliance with a revamped Kirigakure may bloom from it.”

Yondaime smiled faintly at some of the awestruck faces in front of him. He was glad that they realised the importance of it. He walked towards Anko, gave her a small identification photo, and beamed in satisfaction that she was so serious about the prospect of the mission that she didn’t spare a single comment about the physique of the man in the picture. “This is the man you will be looking for. You are going to help the Kiri ninja that are currently in Konoha find him – and nothing else. If you cannot restrain him, you must – for the time being - let him go. Do not kill him.” He narrowed his eyes at the photo, which was currently held by an unfazed Aburame Shino. “Utakata Sōjun*. He is a rogue nin from the Hidden Mist – but do not ask what he is wanted for. I am aware of the reason, and I fully support the Mizukage, but it is an SS-rank secret you do not need to know. Understood?”

 

-OoOoOoOoO-

 

The neatly wrapped bottle of sake hung piteously in his hand, the previously smooth and crisp paper presently wrinkled and soggy. Several times Minato had to hold the soaked and cold bottle to his chest, lest its slippery surface slid down his hand and the sake bottle crash against the cobbled pavement.

                The flickering lights twinkled brightly at him, shining dazzlingly on that cold December night. There were so many of them, so many small glimmering lights, that the entire village was illuminated, despite the creeping darkness that surrounded it from above and around it. The wispy glows crackled as he walked past them in a brisk gait, as if they were acknowledging his presence.

                The streets were completely deserted, not a single soul could be found outside other than the Hokage. The uncanny emptiness made Minato feel almost dizzy with the freedom of movement he had, as he had grown used to the constant hustle and bustle. He crossed his arms over his chest and lowered his head seeking warmth, the bottle safely tucked under his forearms and digging into his breastbone.

He sighed in mental exhaustion. He should have realised that everyone would be at their homes, enjoying dinner with their families and friends, happily celebrating the few hours left before the start of a new year, basking in delight at the fact that another year had passed by, and they were still together.

Minato glanced at the illuminated Hokage Monument and smiled sadly at the dimly glowing faces carved into the stone. He snorted derisively at the fact that despite his status and popularity, he had nobody with whom he could celebrate the birth of a new year. Of course, he could barge inside any house, and he knew everybody would welcome him with open arms. To them, he was their beloved Hokage – he would never be plain old Minato.  Of course, there were some who saw the person and not the title, such as his good friends Chōza, Shibi, Shikaku, and Inoichi – but they all had families of their own, and their wives and children wouldn’t be at ease with the Hokage around. They were allowed to spend at least one day a year without having to see the face of their superior.

“Pathetic,” he hissed.

He had been anxiously looking forward to spending the eve of the new year with his son, but Naruto was away on a mission that was taking longer than he had expected. Jiraiya-sensei was supposedly in Iwa, trying to ram some sense into the stubborn Tsuchikage’s head, and Kakashi was galloping through Hi no Kuni looking for the jinchūriki of the Rokubi – and Tsunade… Tsunade had promptly thrown up on her doorstep the moment she had opened the door and landed her eyes on the bottle of sake Minato had in his hands. She had looked at him hatefully through heavily-lidded eyes and green cheeks and then closed the door on his face.

The graveyard was coated in darkness, only the normally gleaming tombstones shed a sliver of light upon the muddy earth. But Minato was not hindered by the lack of visibility, for he knew his way off by heart. He sashayed through the silent gravestones without a hitch until he found the one he had been looking for.

He couldn’t read the words engraved on it, but there was not a single speck of doubt in his heart that he had located the correct one. After all, anyone would memorise the path to it if they came as often as he did.

Minato kneeled in front of it and placed the bottle at its side, the soggy wrapping paper pitifully slipping down the white surface. He tugged at his sleeve and held it tightly between the arcs of his fingers, ridding the stone in diligent silence of the specks of dirt it may have accumulated since the last time he paid it a visit.

When the task was done, he slumped unceremoniously onto the floor, mentally berating himself for not bringing some cleaning products and rags. He could have done a better job. That tombstone deserved to remain pristine and intact for all eternity.

Uzumaki Kushina had deserved so much more than she had ever received.

His wife didn’t deserve to have been taken away from her parents and older brother to become the host of the Kyūbi in a hostile village at the tender age of six. She didn’t deserve to hear about the destruction of her homeland and a few years later, the death of her own family in the godforsaken land of Amegakure. She had deserved so much more than he could ever offer as a husband, but she was such a silly girl that she had been delighted to marry him. And she had most definitely not deserved to die on what should have been the happiest day of her life: the day her son had been born.

Nobody dared to wreck the gravestone of the Hokage’s late wife, for fear of retribution, but he knew what the vile tongues in the village hissed behind his back. Somehow, the secret had been leaked, and people learnt about her true nature as the jinchūriki of the Kyūbi. Her name had been whispered with hatred and revulsion, the memory of his cheerful and beautiful wife forever besmirched by the loss and subsequent rancour the villagers held against her for failing at keeping the Kyūbi at bay. He had said time and time again that it had not been Kushina’s fault; that the beast had been ripped away from her – but the villagers needed a scapegoat, and a nameless, faceless and masked shinobi just hadn’t been good enough.

Without taking his eyes from the illegible inscription, he despondently grabbed the bottle that looked as lonely as him and opened it hastily. He took several tentative sips, amazed at the warmth that quickly spread through his entire body. Or perhaps he was surprised at the realisation of just how cold his body had been.

He wiped the corner of his mouth with his sleeve, for once not caring whether it was dirty or not. He then glanced ponderingly at the small bottle, cursing himself when he remembered why he had bought such a tiny bottle of sake, concerned as he had been for the state of Tsunade’s liver.

One look at the silent gravestone gave him all the encouragement he needed.

“Cheers, Kushina, and Happy New Year.” In a clumsy haste, he lifted the bottle and chugged down its contents, groaning in self-destructive satisfaction when he put the empty container down.

“Whoa,” he slurred, wondering briefly why the world seemed to be suddenly spinning. He put both of his hands on the ground, the cold and wet mud sipping through his fingers, the sludge hiding under his nails and slithering over his phalanxes. He took a sharp breath and bowed his head, waiting in silence for the world to settle down.

An urge to lie down suddenly took over him. Maladroitly, he spun around on his backside and laid his head on the cold tombstone, his legs sprawled awkwardly in front of it. He raised one arm and then dropped it brusquely over his eyes. Numb as he was he did not feel any pain from his action.

His mind went momentarily blank, before he remembered what lay under his body. That one incredible woman who had made him a husband, that one woman who had made him Hokage – and that woman who had given him a son… Actually, could she still be called a ‘woman’? She had been dead for more than sixteen years, rotting away in silence. Was she still a human being, the girl he still loved and the mother of his child - or was she nothing else but mere putrid flesh and bones?

“Ridiculous,” Minato whispered to himself as he allowed his brain to give into the overwhelming stupor that threatened to take over it, sleep and drowsiness inching closer and closer.

Minato never noticed the small drops of salted water that fell from the corner of his eyes, piteously rolling down his skin until they reached the edge of his temples, where they hesitated briefly before plunging down, leaving an invisible stain on the muddy earth, forgotten.

 

-OoOoOoOoO-

 

End Notes:
Thank you, Silverwolf1213, for your beta skills and patience.

On another note, I've got exams coming up at med school, so I have the energy to write during January. See you again in February!

Ja ne!

Vermouth
Original Sin by Vermouth

DISCLAIMER: I lost the rights to own Bleach, Naruto, and what the heck, the rights to be the supreme ruler of the universe in a bad hand of poker. My opponent was Allen Walker. ‘Nuff said.

 

Chapter Eleven

Original Sin

 

Timid thin rays of sun flitted through the overcast skies, haphazardly illuminating the steep and endless granite staircase that led to the Fire Temple’s main gate. Naruto, being the impatient person he was, rushed up the stairway, climbing two or three steps at a time. Unknowingly, his impetuous nature had spurned Rock Lee into entering a youthful race to reach the top.

                Even though he was momentarily surprised at Rock Lee’s outburst, that didn’t stop him from picking up his speed. Unwillingly and unwittingly, of course. He panted tiredly with his hands on his knees when he reached the top, a tad surprised that Rock Lee had actually beaten him. As he recovered his breath and ignored the spandex-clad shinobi who was in what seemed like a customary ritual of praising his sensei in a loud and obnoxious voice, he waited for the other two members of Team Nine. He didn’t know why, but he found himself growing irked at Hyūga Neji’s calm and indifferent pace.

                “You need to train more, Tenten. You get too tired far too easily. Don’t worry, as soon as we go back to Konoha, Gai-sensei and I will work with you so that you can set your flames of youth ablaze!”

                The echoing tune of crickets filled the silence.

                It was then that the massive iron gates in front of them screeched and whirred, making them spin on their heels to look it. Painstakingly, the metallic gates scraped against the granite floor, and ever so slowly, the gap between the two of them grew bigger, revealing two figures in the distance walking towards them.

                Naruto narrowed his eyes, trying to get a better glimpse of the two people approaching them. As far as he could tell, both of them were male, and that was where the likeness between the two of them ended. The one on the left seemed to be very old, perhaps even older than he actually was. He was a very short man and his back was hunched, as if he had been carrying an enormous weight on his shoulders for as long as he had lived. The sun reflected on his head, making Naruto realise that the elderly man was balding, and that only thin wisps of white hair remained on his scalp. His eyebrows were thicker than Rock Lee’s, and not at all neat and trimmed. Long wispy hairs shot from them, shrouding the eyes that were narrowed to slits. The thick white moustache curled comically at its ends, hiding his mouth from sight and obscured a good part of his lower maxillary bone. He pitifully dragged his body forward towards them, the hem of his white robe grazing the cobbled ground he walked on. Naruto furrowed his brows and pursed his lips under his ninja mask. Somehow, he got the feeling that he was not going to get along well with the wizened monk. He shrugged the feeling off though: paranoia would get him nowhere.

                His companion was as different as could be, and much more intriguing to look at. Not even the clothes bore any sort of resemblance. While the wrinkled, ancient man donned garments that signified his affiliation to the clergy, the young man next to him was clearly a shinobi, and a skilled one at that, Naruto could see. He was lean and much taller than the old monk, although to be honest, that was no big feat. In fact, as the two figures approached them, Naruto realised that the taller of the two was about an inch shorter than him.

                However, the solid wall of serene confidence reflected on his green irises made him a shinobi not to be underestimated. From the zigzag parting on the top of his head shoulder-length white hair sprung, two strands adorning his masculine jaws, and behind them one tendril on each side, ending in a rectangular bead, with small wisps of hair bursting from it. Two red dots embellished his smooth forehead, and red markings ran from the medial side of his lower eyelid to the outer corner of his eyes.

                He wore the traditional shinobi sandals and black sweatpants that were cut about mid-calf. His chest was covered by a light lavender, loose-fitting, long-sleeved zip-up shirt that left an inverted triangle of naked pale skin visible below the hollow of his neck, where a rip-like tattoo rested. Around his waist, he wore a purple, rope-like belt tied in an inverted bow.

                Naruto was kicked out of his conscientious inspection by the high-pitched yet croaky voice of the elderly monk, forcing his eyes away from the peculiar shinobi in front of him.

                “Gomen, gomen. What did you say?”

                The aged priest grumbled something unintelligible under his breath before he coughed to clear his throat. “I said, my name is Ashikawa Tsunesuke, Grand Priest, and this is my current bodyguard, Kimimaro. And you, Konoha shinobi, are late.” 

                “Huh? How can we be late if we just got the order to come here?” Naruto asked, confused.

                Ashikawa Tsunesuke huffed in irritation. “You are late because this job should have been finished by now. We only wanted you to oversee the re-doing of the sealing, but your overbearing Hokage insisted on adding more seals or whatever, and therefore delaying the task, gaki,” he spit in exasperation, then suddenly opened his eyes to look at Naruto in shrewd distaste. “Are you a woman?” he asked, revulsion leaking from his voice.

                Naruto sputtered. “What? What the -? No! I’m a man!”

                The gnarled monk furrowed his spiked eyebrows arrogantly. “Then why are you so covered up?”

                Naruto shook his head. “What does that have to do with anything? I dress like this because I want to, ‘ttebayo. But I’m a man, and I’ll prove it,” he hastily added and lifted his shirt with his right hand and patted his chest with his left. “See?” he asked smugly as he lowered his black shirt. “I’m completely flat. I’m male.”

                Ashikawa Tsunesuke grunted. “That doesn’t prove anything. You could be a late bloomer. And women nowadays are indecent, so showing off your upper body isn’t good enough.”

                Naruto could only gape stupidly at him.

                “And you,” the old priest said icily, pushing Naruto aside to stand in front of a somewhat nervous Rock Lee. “What sort of creature are you? Pets are not allowed inside this temple. You’ll be kept outside, and I’ll make sure you have a leash around your throat.”

                Rock Lee’s blazing fires of youth were temporarily put out in shock. When he called himself ‘Konoha’s Beautiful Blue Wild Beast’, he never thought the last word of his self-proclaimed label could ever be taken in the literal way. Perhaps he would have to get a new title. But, oh, that one was just so cool.

                Just then, the Grand Priest caught sight of Tenten, who seemed to be half-bamboozled, half-angered. “You! You are definitely a woman! Out! OUT!” He screamed as if he had been temporarily possessed by a very violent djinn, spit dousing the people around him. “Kimimaro, throw her out!”

                The transitory stupor that had sunk into the four ninjas’ minds at the priests insulting and odd behaviour was shot away from their heads in less than a second, the four of them dropping into defensive poses, their brows knit tightly in tense concentration.

                “What is the meaning of this, Priest Ashikawa-san?” Hyūga Neji inquired icily. “And where is Chiriku-san, the one we were told was the leader of the Fire Temple?”

                “That’s ‘Grand Priest Ashikawa-sama’ to you, boy,” he corrected in irritation before he fixed his eyes icily once again on Tenten. “This is hallowed ground. Women are impure creatures who tarnish everything that is good and sacred with their vile and malevolent ways.” He swung his cane about in a wild manner, and would’ve poked Rock Lee’s left eye out several times were it not for his honed reflexes and impressive agility. “You Konoha shinobi have no decency, and your Hokage is a complete baboon. How dare he send not one, but three women – that is, if you do not count this absolute imbecile,” he spat, his hand pointing at an impassive Kimimaro, “who brought his wretched, foul-mouthed, demon-haired sister here!”

                As if on cue, Kimimaro bowed his head. “I beg your pardon for my foolishness, Grand Priest Ashikawa-sama,” he apologised contritely.

                Naruto was about to regale the ancient priest with a plethora of dulcets for his downright rudeness and dangerous ideology and for committing undeserved offence against his father when a thought suddenly came to him. He furrowed his eyebrows in contemplation.

There had been not a single hint of sarcasm, anger or dislike in the bodyguard’s tone, which should have been the normal reaction considering he had just been insulted for nothing at all, because really, the old man’s attitude and thoughts were more than absurd and eccentric, they were insane. Yet Kimimaro hadn’t snapped at all, he remained unflappable and penitent. His reaction was beyond submissive. It was skilfully fake.

“And as for that meathead Chiriku,” the Grand Priest continued, “that baboon of a daimyō called for him and therefore he is temporarily away from this temple. Which is why they had the good taste to ask for me, fūinjutsu master Ashikawa Tsunesuke-sama. Not that he could’ve done anything had he stayed here, for brainless thickheads like that former member of the Shinobi Guardian Twelve Chiriku have no talent in the fine and precise art of fūinjutsu, possessing the subtlety of a stampede of feral rhinoceros and none of the elegant sophistication it requires,” he said in a pompous voice and concluded with an affronted huff, thank you very much.

Naruto wasn’t impressed. The urge to yawn repellently at the abominable and conceited monk speedily became an impulse far too powerful to hold back.

                Ashikawa Tsunesuke placed the gnarled cane in front of him, sinking the rubber ferrule into the ground in emphasis, and then set his hands on its spherical handle. “The woman, the creature, and the hermaphrodite will stay outside along with the other two women, the mutt, and its rabid owner. You, Hyūga boy, can come inside. This is my final say in this shameful matter.”

                And just like that, the obnoxious monk twirled on the balls of his feet, shouted a couple of orders – and a healthy smidgen of insults, too - at the deadpan bodyguard, leaving four very confused and offended ninja in his wake.

                “I’d better catch up with him and familiarise myself with the Fire Temple,” said Neji gravely as he handed his backpack to a very red-looking Tenten. “Byakugan!” Fleetingly, he activated his bloodline limit, the veins around his temples protruding imposingly. “Fifty feet due North, that’s where Team Eight has set camp,” he added then closed his eyes and relaxed his facial muscles, deactivating the Byakugan. “Relay Hokage-sama’s orders to them while I’m away. I will find you later, and we shall then discuss how to carry out this mission.”

                The three Konoha ninja stood paralysed at the entrance of the Fire Temple like odd statues sculptured in an artistic drunken frenzy, then suddenly –

                “Women are not vile creatures!”

                “I’m a youthful human being!”

                “I’m a man, damnit!”

-OoOoOoOoOo-

A soft breeze caressed the green leaves that adorned the powerful trees of the forest surrounding the Fire Temple. A young and bold squirrel climbed out of its makeshift burrow inside the hollow of a gnarled tree-trunk, venturing out in the cold December weather and glided along a knotted branch, briefly pausing to enjoy the trimming of its downy tail.

                A snowy white dog of almost epic proportions trotted stealthily through the forest, his tail between his legs and a look of almost human-like shame on his canine features. A gruff gust of wind soared, and the dog reared his neck, his expert nose tasting the scents it carried like the fine connoisseur it was. The animal turned around and waited for his human companion to catch up with him, then opened his jaws and warned him, “WOOF!”

                “Yeah, I don’t know who the other shinobi is either, Akamaru, I’ve never smelled him before. But if he’s with Tenten and Lee, he must be from Konoha, too,” a young brown-haired boy said, watching a squirrel flee at top speed at the sight of the massive white dog at his feet. “We’ll just wait for them to come,” he concluded, shrugging his shoulders in indifference before bending his knees to gently pat the back of the canine’s head.

                “Woof. Woof. Woof,” the dog said wisely, hammering his front paws on the frosty ground beneath him in emphasis.

                The boy nodded meditatively. “I know, it’s weird. He smells wild and dangerous, but at the same time my gut tells me he’s not a threat,” he contemplated bemusedly. “We’ll just wait and see, boy. Well, let’s head back to camp; you’ve already taken care of your business, haven’t you? Hey,” he added defensively, raising his hands in a placating manner, “don’t start getting all bashful and upset at me because I know you have diarrhoea. Like I couldn’t smell it.”

                The poor dog whimpered and placed a small paw over his eyes. His human companion was beyond tactless.

                “It’s a pity, though, that you didn’t have the urge while we were inside the Temple. Would’ve served that pompous priest right,” he added, his slit-like irises shining in mischief. A soft squall of wind raced past him, bringing with it a very familiar scent to his nostrils. “Hinata’s coming, Akamaru.”

                “Woof,” the dog replied in manner that could be translated to ‘like I didn’t know already’, and promptly started making a mess of the environment, still annoyed at his comrade-in-paws’ absolute lack of discretion. Because, really, talking about scatological bodily functions was embarrassing and uncomfortable; plus, nobody liked talking about their bowel movements (or break-dancing intestines, which was Akamaru’s current predicament). Well, except for veterinarians, iryō-nin, and doctors, who were just weird that way.

                The sixteen year-old shinobi stood up and stretched his limbs in the most obnoxious manner he could think of, as his dog Akamaru pointed out to him. Sheepishly, the boy scratched the inverted crimson triangle on his left cheek and gave his four-legged companion a lazy smile, showing his larger-than-average canines.

                Prussian blue sandals encasing a pair of pale feet quietly lumbered along the forest, the dead crispy leaves that were unlucky enough to be in their way shattered into countless, tiny pieces, and scattered away as the weight was lifted. The feet were small yet rough, voicelessly complaining that they had been put through the mill. Yet the pale legs connected to them were smooth and lean, covered by a pair of ninja blue trousers until mid-calf that rose to encircle generous hips, flanked at both sides by long, dark blue hair. The hem of the pants was covered by a baggy lavender and grey zip-up jacket that only left a bit of the mesh armour about the chest area visible. The neck was slender and had tied around it the Konoha hitai-ate.

                “Kiba-kun, we are about to have company,” said Hinata softly, her lavender eyes uncharacteristically menacing as she had her Byakugan activated, earning her an imposing aura she usually lacked. “One person is Tenten-san, another is Lee-kun, but I don’t recognise the third one.”

                The boy called Inuzuka Kiba shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “Neither do we, yet. Hokage-sama must’ve sent another team, although I dunno what for. We’re brilliant enough as it is,” he stated cockily, managing to bring a small smile out of the timid girl in front of him. “What I really want to know is what that stupid priest called Lee and the other guy, as they probably are out here because that idiotic monk didn’t consider them good enough to be around his holy fire, or something,” he added, a frown fleetingly marring his young face before it relaxed and the muscles around his mouth stretched into an elfin smile. “We should sneak inside at night and put out every single fire, that’ll teach him.”

                Hinata lowered her head trying to hide her amusement. She knew they couldn’t do that, and she hoped that her reckless and somewhat thoughtless teammate knew that too, but she didn’t dare to voice out her opinion. She knew that Kiba-kun had been in a very foul mood because of the Grand Priest’s derogatory attitude towards Team Eight. “This job will soon be over, Kiba-kun.”

                Kiba snorted boisterously, a few strands of his hair briefly shooting up. “Thank goodness for that. If it weren’t for the fact that I’m very fond of them, I’d leave my Icha Icha collection inside the old prune’s room. Along with the putrid products of Akamaru’s intestines.”

                The shy girl turned beetroot and lost all ability of speech and thought at that gruesome statement. Akamaru, in turn, bit his owner’s ankles, not hard enough to cause any damage, but enough to convey his increasing irritation. Honestly, what happens in the toilet, stays in the toilet. Or some bush. Woofever. 

                However, Kiba was oblivious to the others’ dilemmas. He turned his head swiftly when his ears told him that Tenten, Lee and the other Konoha shinobi were almost there. In the distance, he could see their blurry figures, so he raised a hand and waved it energetically at them. ‘Oi! Tenten, Lee, New Guy – over here!” exclaimed Kiba loudly as the sullen figures dragged themselves through the forest at a fettered and morose pace. Kiba was about to exclaim something with the usual vigour and friendliness he was famous for, when a whimper from Akamaru put him on alert and drew a frown across his face. Unusually critical eyes roved the shifty outline of the newcomer, taking everything in. If he had the amount and type of chakra that could make his dog – his very fearless dog – whinge like a frightened puppy, then the stranger was someone to be wary of, despite the fact that the hitai-ate on his forehead stated that he was a Konoha comrade.

                “Ah, why hello, Kiba-kun,” said an eerily languid Lee, shoulders hunched.

                Kiba blinked in shock. For a fleeting moment, he had thought Lee had been possessed by Shikamaru’s legendary laziness. It didn’t take him long to figure it out, though. “The old codger, right?” asked Kiba sympathetically while keeping an eye inconspicuously on the newest addition. “Yeah, he was harsh on us, too. He didn’t approve of any of the members of Team Eight.” His face was set into an unpleasant scowl, as their arrival at the Fire Temple and the subsequent unfair belittling treatment of his team flitted through his mind. “Kuso jiji.”

                Lee nodded sulky, bushy eyebrows sagging morosely. “Yes, it was a very unyouthful reception.”

                Kiba nodded gravely in support. “We can’t say anything about it, though. ‘Clients are never wrong’, that sort of thing,” he added with a derisive snort. He then turned to the newcomer and bobbed his head at him curiously. “So who are you?”

                Naruto was still a tad miffed at the pejorative monk, and therefore wasn’t his usual friendly and open-minded self. In fact, to Kiba, his grouchy attitude quite resembled that of the most skilled of his peers. Kiba couldn’t help but shiver. Kami-sama save them from another Uchiha Sasuke.

Unaware of the quandary zooming about in the wild-looking shinobi, the uncharacteristically glum jinchūriki replied in a curt tone, “Naruto. Chūnnin,” the masked jinchūriki replied, still miffed at the pejorative monk.

                A dried up leaf fell haphazardly on his nose and Kiba blinked in confusion. “Naruto? Naruto what?”

                Naruto shrugged uncomfortably, fidgeting under the piercing stare. He swivelled his head around and chose instead to gaze at the environs’ copious gnarled tree-trunks. “Just Naruto.”

                Kiba followed his gaze. Arching his eyebrow, he deduced that the new shinobi was decidedly fishy. However, he knew he had to keep his musings quiet for the time being. Although that did not mean he wouldn’t keep a close eye on the newbie. “Mmmhmm,” he expressed noncommittally.

                Lee frowned. It was unlike Kiba-kun to act in such an unyouthful and unfriendly manner towards a comrade.

                The gentle-toned shivered due to the cold weather, unwillingly drawing their attention to her. Slightly startled due to the three pairs of eyes on her, she coughed. “H-He is Inuzuka Kiba, and his ninken is Akamaru. I am H-Hyūga Hinata. Yoroshiku o-onegai shimasu, Naruto-san,” she quipped timorously, drawing Naruto’s eyes away from the distant and judging slit-like black irises and fixing them on the owner of the soft voice. He recognised the Hyūga almost-white eyes immediately, and was glad to notice that the Hyūga in front of him did not seem as stuffy and uptight as Neji.

                His small smile was concealed under his ninja mask, but his blue eyes were warm. “Aa, yoroshiku na.”

                Lee frowned and rotated his head, looking for something. When it appeared he had not found his target, he turned to Kiba. “Where are Shino-kun and Kurenai-sensei, Kiba-kun?” he inquired seriously. “We need to speak to all of Team Eight: Yondaime-sama’s orders.”

                Kiba, who had been fixedly stuck on Naruto ever since they spotted him, while the latter tried to ignore the sharp and unsettling stare, finally drew them away from his target and rasped, “We built camp three minutes away from here. Hinata will take you there. Akamaru and I will go fetch Kurenai-sensei and Shino,” he replied, gave one last sneering and distrustful look at Naruto, then turned towards his dog, “On second thought, I will go look for them. You stay with Hinata, Akamaru.” Sparing his dog one last, meaningful look, he set off hastily.

                A couple of uncomfortable minutes snailed by, sticky tension obstructing their throats until Naruto coughed then grumbled, “What the heck is his problem?” Akamaru gave several loud barks as he walked towards Hinata and stood in front of her in a defensive stance, showing his jagged teeth at him. Naruto stared incredulously at the massive canine. “I’m sorry, but I can’t understand what you are saying,” he gave a weary sigh then bent his knees and extended his hand in slow motion. “Here, sniff it. You’ll see that I mean no harm, ‘ttebayo.” Akamaru did not move an inch. “Whatever,” concluded Naruto, annoyed. He withdrew his hand and stashed it inside his trousers’ waist pocket. “Let’s go to where you’ve set camp.” He narrowed his eyes and gazed absent-mindedly at the distance. “The sooner I’m out of here, the happier I’ll be. Lead the way, Hinata-san.”

-OoOoOoOoO-

“Yondaime-sama has gone batty. There’s no way we can leave a teammate here. Absolutely not.”

                “Quiet, Kiba,” cut in Yūhi Kurenai, red eyes grave. “If Hokage-sama wishes for everyone except for Hinata to stay here, then that is what we will do.” She tapped the ground with her finger once then stood up, dusting off any possible dirt that might’ve stuck to her legs.

                “But Sensei, she is our teammate. We shouldn’t leave one of our own behind,” Kiba pressed on, his fists clenched. In contrast to the Inuzuka boy’s fiery attitude, the other member of Team Eight by his side was unearthly calm and collected, and Naruto was surprised to see that he was even more covered up than himself.

                The red-eyed jōnin narrowed her eyes disapprovingly at her former ward. “Quit being childish, Kiba, and let’s get a move on. Hokage-sama is waiting for us,” she replied in a tone that left no room for complaints and proceeded to retire to the adjustment of her fairly uncommon attire comprised of sleeves and bandages. Naruto diverted his annoyance at Kiba and shifted it to the jōnin-sensei. He truly couldn’t figure out just how on earth she didn’t end up in her underwear with such a flimsy and untrustworthy set of clothes, if you could call them that. Not that he would complain, if that were ever to happen. 

                “Kurenai-sensei is right, for -”

                “Tch,” Kiba interrupted his covered-up teammate without caring and scratched the back of his head, resigning himself. “I don’t like this, but Hinata is strong. And she’s got Tenten and Lee. And Neji, I guess,” he concluded, crossing his arms over his chest as he glared once again at Naruto, who was really trying his best not to snap. After all, he was the new guy there, while Kiba had his friends around. He was no alpha in that situation, he mused in an Inuzuka way of thinking. Like his father used to say: ‘If you lose your cool and start insulting others, then you lose the right to be right’.

                It was no easy task, though.

                “By the way, Shino,” added Kiba as he settled his pouch around his waist, sending his quiet teammate a pensive look. “Just how close are you to Kakashi-sensei?”

                Aburame Shino gave his teammate a quizzical look. Or as quizzical as he could get considering that he wore dark sunglasses and was as expressive as a statue. “I do not understand why you are asking this, Kiba, for -”

                “We should go already, you two. Yondaime-sama is waiting,” interrupted Kurenai, her features drawn into stern lines before they softened as she glanced at her – although she would deny it to anyone who asked – favourite student. “Do your best, Hinata,” she added softly, placing her hands on the smaller woman’s shoulders and giving them a light squeeze.

                “H-hai, Kurenai-sensei. I’ll try,” replied the student demurely, head bowed. Kurenai sighed wearily: she could almost see the asphyxiating insecurity that swarmed her head. 

Shortly afterwards, three of the four members that composed Team Eight departed, leaving a very pregnant silence in their wake. Naruto gave out a weary sigh and inelegantly sat on the ground, mentally willing for the awkward tension to dissipate.

                “I-I apologise for my teammate’s behaviour, Naruto-san,” piped up Hinata, her head once again bowed as she lumbered her way to him. “I am not strong enough, th-that is why he can get a bit overbearing with his protectiveness of me.”

                Naruto arched an eyebrow at that statement, which seemed to contradict what the Inuzuka fellow had said about her. He gave her a shrewd once-over, taking in her submissive stance, and the way her left leg slightly trembled in unbidden anxiety. He couldn’t help but wonder what could have happened to that girl for her to ooze such lack of confidence it was almost tangible. Hyūga clansmen were supposed to perspire confidence and skill, at least according to public knowledge. But then again, Naruto admitted, jinchūriki were supposed to be loners who hated the entire world. Naruto was solid proof that making assumptions based on general opinions did not bide well.

                When the timorous girl in question did not raise her head long enough for her cervical vertebrae to crack under the weight of supporting her skull, Naruto realised that she was waiting for some sort of response or acknowledgement from him. Hastily, he shoved his misgivings into the back of his mind and forced a grin (more like an uneasy grimace) under his mask. “Nah, don’t fret. I’m sure we will get along just fine – eventually. Heh,” he said through gritted teeth, waving his hands in a conciliatory manner. “So, what do we do now? Wait for this mission’s taichō, or start planning how to get this over with, then tell him our ideas once he comes here?”

                Tenten scratched her chin pensively, one arm leaning on a scratchy tree-trunk. “I think we’d better wait for -”

                “YOSHI! Let’s give it our best, our fires of youth are on the line!”

                “- Never mind.”

                Despite their best efforts, as it often happens, they did not get their planning done and instead decided to set up a fire and wait for their mission captain Neji while basking in the dubious midday light. Unfortunately for Naruto, who had finally started to get comfortable inside his sleeping bag after many seizures of restlessness, and who was beginning to feel the poignant pull of sleepiness taking over, was rudely snapped awake by the youthful voice of one Rock Lee, who was exuberantly greeting his ‘long lost’ teammate Neji.

                Naruto sighed and then opened one beady eye to gaze at the approaching Neji, without moving an inch inside his cosy and warm bag. However, he soon forfeited his comfort and drowsiness as he realised that Neji was not alone, as he had previously believed. His mission captain was flanked by two other people: one he recognised as the mysterious Kimimaro, and the other one was a too-big-to-be-allowed man with an orange mohican and mean eyes. 

                “We apologise, but the sealing will be postponed until tomorrow. The Grand Priest is having acute arthritis pains and will not be able to perform successfully,” announced Kimimaro. His rotund companion grunted as a form of agreement.

                Tenten opened her mouth to raise her protest, but Naruto was quicker. “I can do it. I am by no means as skilled as Yondaime or my shishō at fūinjutsu, but I’m proficient enough,” he offered. It wasn’t completely out of the goodness of his heart: he really wanted to leave the Fire Temple as fast as humanly possible. Or inhumanly, considering his jinchūriki status.

                “You? And what exactly makes you think that you are good enough to perform such complex fūinjutsu, one that required a priest from another temple to carry out, because none here were competent enough?” the unnamed shinobi asked with his nostrils flaring, his beady eyes flashing with irritated disdain.

                “I am no genius, but I am Jiraiya of the Sannin’s disciple,” he retorted defensively as he raised his hands. Briefly, his blue eyes glinted sharply when he added, “I get by.”

                The unidentified shinobi bristled in annoyance, forcing Neji to duck his head in fleeting amusement.

                “Be that as it may, the Grand Priest was specifically brought here to perform this piece of sealing,” Kimimaro calmly countered. “You will do your duty and stand guard while the renewal of the sealing takes place tomorrow,” he added in a voice that left no room for objections. “Changing the topic, we have brought you food.”

                Naruto’s attention was promptly diverted to their arms, or more specifically, what they were carrying. He couldn’t help but smile beatifically at the prospect of food, as the meal’s mouth-watering smell wafted to his nose. His stomach gave a sudden lurch and Naruto jumped to his feet, happier to see the stiff and proper Kimimaro than he had ever been. After all, in Naruto’s - heavily abridged – book, nobody who brought him food could ever be a bad person.

                It didn’t take long for his naïve happiness to crumble. Kimimaro saw to that.

                “By orders of the Grand Priest, I am only allowed to hand these carefully hand-made dishes to the Hyūga boy,” said Kimimaro as he gave a disgruntled Neji two bentō boxes, then paused to signal the other two boxes in his fellow bodyguard’s arms. “These are for the hermaphrodite, should it prove to be male. The beast is allowed to hunt some wild rodents, and the two women are not permitted to eat at all.”

                A stunned silence fell upon the clearing until –

                “THE HECK ARE YOU SAYING, DATTEBAYO?” Naruto jumped straight for Kimimaro, aggressively grabbing him by the shirt and swinging him around. The two boxes on Kimimaro’s left arm fell to the ground, their contents spilling the earth. “Are you on drugs, kusoyaro?” pressed Naruto, his face an inch away from the older shinobi, eyes ablaze in anger.

                “Unhand me, Hermaphrodite-san,” replied Kimimaro impassively. When Naruto didn’t move, he swiftly pushed the former’s arm away and took a step backwards. “You have made me drop your food. Now it doesn’t matter what your gender is.”

                Naruto’s whole body shook in fury. He could feel the pit in his stomach boiling, the rage starting to uncoil as a sly and almost mute voice told him to punch the living daylights out of the shinobi in front of him. Just as sudden, the hatred and wrath from memories past flitted through his mind and the ghastly consequences that would befall should he lose his temper ran through his conscience, and all of his frenzied bravado evaporated. His shoulders sagged and he turned around, walking back towards his sleeping bag in a scarily serene pace.

                “You know what? I don’t care. Say and do whatever you please, you narrow-minded idiot,” he hissed in a quiet yet dangerous voice while he rummaged through his bag, pulling out several of the food scrolls he had stolen from his father. Unfurling the scrolls, he placed a hand upon them and lifted his head to stare at Kimimaro and his unnamed companion silently. “I was taught,” he paused his sentence, using the brief interlude to give Kimimaro a stare acid enough to curdle milk, “that Konoha shinobi take care of their own, which is what I’m going to do. Kai!”

                Hyūga Neji stood dumbfounded as he was handed a box of food by the newest member in the Konoha ranks, unable to think properly, much less articulate a sentence. It was just then, in the ensnaring midst of steely and icy blue eyes, that the young Hyūga’s mind was invaded by the most vivid of visions. He had suddenly disappeared from the clearing they were all in. Instead, he was standing proud and tall in the Konoha shinobi uniform, flanked by the comrades he knew and trusted. But his all-seeing eyes were placed on the man before him, whose shoulders were squared in determination, the hem of his orange and black robe billowing in the morning breeze. Neji’s eyes raked over the kanji on the man’s back, a triumphant smile on his lips at the knowledge that he would follow that man, their Hokage, to the very depths of Hell and beyond.

                Neji shook his head, and the vision vanished as promptly as it had come. He sat quietly and ignored the rest of the group, and while the impression he was giving off was that he was not in the mood to put up with anymore stupidity and wanted to be left alone in his aloof quietude, in truth, Neji couldn’t help but wonder as he idly picked at his food, just what the blazes had that sudden vision been about.

 

End Notes:

Thank you, Silverwolf1213, once again, for your invaluable work. And I apologise for the dreadful delay, it's been one semester straight out of Hell itself.

Until next time,

Vermouth

The Sealing Chamber by Vermouth
Author's Notes:
DISCLAIMER: I'm not Kishimoto-sensei. I'm not even a man. Therefore, I do not have any claims on Naruto.

Chapter Twelve

The Sealing Chamber

 

It had been a rough night. Not only had it been a very cold winter night they had been forced to sleep outside in, but the tense atmosphere that had surrounded them was as heavy as a large boulder. Perhaps, in Naruto’s opinion, in hindsight, the worst part of it had been his own eerie quietness. It was therefore that he was happy and energetic – or as Lee would say, ablaze with the power of youth - when morning came, and dashed to his feet in order to get the mission done and over with. Luckily, it seemed that all of his teammates were in agreement. Rock Lee, as a matter of fact, incessantly praised him for his morning youthfulness to the point where Naruto began to wonder whether his most bizarre teammate was trying to do some eerie mating ritual with him as his amour target. Naruto shivered at the thought and pushed it with all his might out of his mind.

                However, as the group approached the Fire Temple in the early morning, the blond jinchūriki started noticing a couple of details he had missed the previous day, probably due to the fact that he had been very distracted with the Fire Temple’s outrageous policies. Nonetheless, his anger having dissipated, he detected an odd atmosphere between the two Hyūgas ahead of him. He arched an eyebrow at the sight before him. For some reason, there was an almost tangible animosity sizzling from Neji towards a virtually cowering Hinata. Naruto had to admit that he did not understand the intricacies and complexities of clan politics, but in his mind, family was family. And therefore, he was perplexed to see that even though Neji had taken up the role of Hinata’s bodyguard position, he was clearly annoyed by her presence. In fact, his irritation couldn’t have been more blatant even if he wore a sign saying ‘I don’t like you. Shoo, shoo, return to Shàngdū.’*

                Neji, who had been the previous day graced with a full tour of the Fire Temple’s inner architecture, dexterously led them through the winding passages that led to the chamber where the sealing would take place. The saunter towards the targeted room was ghastly at best: the obscure, window-bereft passageways were feebly lit by flickering red flames that sprout from hand-shaped torches on the walls. The lack of proper illumination was bitterly guilty of delivering a slight heart arrhythmia to anyone unfamiliar to the surroundings, due to the scare they would get when they encountered one of the many fearsome statues the Fire Temple had been embellished with. Naruto gulped and mentally added ‘creepy statues’ to the ‘Things That Scare Me’ list. It was a testimony to just how unnerving sculptures were that they were placed in his mind next to ‘Ghosts’ and ‘Angry Tsunade no Baachan’.

                The unwinding claustrophobia that was coiling around his chest suddenly vanished when he caught a glimpse of a bright light in the horizon. He then had to fight the urges to both dash like a madman towards it and shout “I see the light at the end of the tunnel, but I’m too young to die!”. Neither his pride nor the situation approved of either impulse. However, he smirked inwardly when he realised that it hadn’t been just him who had been feeling slightly cloistered, seeing as his silent teammates had swiftly quickened their paces.

                The five Konoha shinobi quickly covered their eyes the moment they set foot in the comparison blinding chamber. When their eyes finally accommodated to the sudden influx of brightness, they all had to restrain themselves from gasping in surprise. Gone were the narrow, barely-lit passages packed with nightmarish sculptures. They had entered a surprisingly wide and vaulted rib chamber, with gilded walls bare except for the lavishly sprinkled human-sized torches. Perhaps the most eye-catching feature was the structure before them: in lieu of a smooth wall, a sort of crest was meticulously carved out of the gilded surface.  Vines of leaves, flames and feathers surrounded from the background an untimely, almost from an alternate universe, suit of armour. The double-visored close helm was party covered by the aventail, as was the solid-looking curiass with a lion on its breastplate. The arms and shoulders were protected by spaulders until where the gauntlet started, from the forearms to the tip of the fingers. The hands were both on the sagittal axis, holding a mighty-looking sword to navel-level.

                And above it, engraved as if it had just been done yesterday, Naruto shivered as he read ‘’. “Forbidden, huh?” whispered the blond jinchūriki in an awed voice. A spark of curiosity burst forth inside him and he couldn’t help but wonder just what exactly needed to be hid behind such an imposing structure. He believed that it was something extremely valuable and extremely dangerous that belonged most likely to the Fire Daimyō, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out just what it was.

                It wasn’t long before Naruto was snapped out of his reverie by the annoying voice of the Grand Priest, who had paled into invisibility when pitted against the grandiosity of the sealing chamber. Naruto was surprised to see that he had been so distracted by the imposing environs that not only hadn’t he noticed the unwanted presence of the Grand Priest, but also that of his two guardians and a baker’s dozen of Fire Temple monks.

The Grand Priest’s irksome voice jolted Naruto once again out of his musings. He was briefly amused to hear the wrinkled monk complain about waiting for them until his bones dried on his chair. Naruto thought that if any more parts of the wizened monk dried, he’d look like a raisin - and a gastroenteritis-inducing one at that.

                “You are late, you scurvy curs!” spat the priest from his high chair, brandishing his walking stick about in a supposedly intimidating, although more like deranged, way. Both Kimimaro and the corpulent and mean-eyed shinobi, who had been standing by each side, made a point to hastily put a distance between themselves and the ballistic old coot.

                Neji, having surmised that his new teammate was very quick to anger, beat him at retorting and gave a polite yet no-nonsense reply, “We would have started sooner if your infirmity had not forced us to postpone, Grand Priest.”

                Ashikawa Tsunesuke clutched at his chest. “Why, I never -! The nerve of you, you lousy ragamuffin! I should have you kicked out of this temple. I surely am going to file a complaint to your lousy Hokage,” sputtered the Grand Priest in affront. His gaze then turned to Naruto. “You, the hermaphrodite, do not take a step forward unless you prove that you are male.”

                Naruto’s left eye twitched. “I’M NOT TAKING MY TROUSERS DOWN, YOU FRIGGING OLD PERVERT!”

                .  “Then you are not allowed here. Go away. Same with the beast and the two women.” Perhaps there was a sliver of truth to Naruto’s vociferous statement that Ashikawa Tsunesuke did not seem fazed at having been considered a depraved old man. “Really, bringing here, to scared ground, such vile, vile creatures -”

                Something inside of Naruto snapped. “I’ve had enough of you and your idiotic prejudices.” He dashed forward, too quick for his unprepared teammates to stop him, until he stopped in his tracks before the cowering priest, who had with unprecedented agility for a man of his age who ostensibly suffered from arthritis jumped from his chair and hid behind it. The old monk needlessly bellowed orders to both of his human shields – Naruto then learnt that the one with a mohican was named Jirōbō -, who were ready to enter battle.

Naruto scrunched his nose then raised both of his hands: Ram, Snake, Tiger, Ram. “Harem no Justu!”

Out of all the impressive techniques known to man the disciple of the legendary Jiraiya of the Sannin was supposed to use, one could have most certainly never predicted a technique that would make several dozens of almost naked, blue-haired women appear out of thin air. Furthermore, it would have been impossible to foretell that the most misogynistic old bat on earth would faint and drop to the ground like a stiff log with a nosebleed serious enough to need medical attention.

“That’s virtuous piety for you, go figure. Serves you right, you barmy old coot,” quipped Naruto in satisfaction as he cancelled his jutsu. He turned around, feeling unexpectedly energised, only to stop in his tracks at his comrades’ expressions. To say that everyone gathered’s encephalograms had fleetingly turned flat would be a gross understatement. But Naruto didn’t seem to catch that. “Er, what’s wrong?”

Unsurprisingly, the first to recover from his mind-boggling technique were the two hired guardians. What he didn’t expect was the degree to which Kimimaro’s posture slackened and the nasty grin playing on Jirōbō’s lips. “That came out of nowhere, but I’m glad for the brief respite. I was on the verge of snapping, so thanks, Konoha shinobi,” he said, nodding at Naruto.

Kimimaro frowned at his partner as he kneeled beside the passed out priest. He checked his pulse and laid him in a comfortable position before rising to his feet. “You shouldn’t talk like that about your master, Jirōbō.”

The circumference-like shinobi sneered at him. “He is not my master.”

Naruto stared at both bodyguards with a contemplative look on his mask-covered face. There seemed to be an underlying truth about Jirōbō’s defiant statement and Kimimaro’s then true submissive attitude he was not privy to. He decided he would think about it later, but right then they had to get back to work. Their schedule had been delayed enough already, and he really did want to go back to Konoha as soon as possible. He turned towards his teammates, and was almost amused to see that they were still pretty much stunned. He shrugged lazily. He reckoned that sometimes, his perverted techniques had some collateral damage. It was only when he began to rummage through Neji’s backpack looking for the sealing scroll that Neji snapped and pushed the former away. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for the sealing scrolls,” replied Naruto in an are-you-an-idiot voice.

“I’ll do that on my own, thanks,” replied the somewhat annoyed white-eyed jōnin. He swiftly produced the hand-sized scroll and handed it over to Naruto. “I don’t think that having the one in charge of sealing, no matter how much he irked me, passed out was a good idea.”

Naruto shrugged once again as he unfurled the scroll. His eyes raked briefly over the carefully drawn ink before he raised his head and smiled at Neji, his eyes twinkling. “It’s all right. Yondaime - and his colleagues, I guess - had me in mind when he created this piece of fūinjutsu,” he replied enigmatically.

“What do you mean?” asked Neji, eyebrows knit in confusion.

But the blond jinchūriki was already gliding away from him and, to Neji’s utter annoyance, giving orders around. Adding further injury, both Tenten and Lee, after having being personally shaken by Naruto, obeyed and left to protect the Fire Temple from the North and South, just as Naruto had asked them too. His teammates were swiftly accompanied by two clones of Naruto, and each left to guard the West and East. Neji moved forward to tell the upstart nitwit to quit bossing him around when two things stopped him. The first was the absolute glint of utter concentration gleaming in those bizarrely familiar blue eyes as they stared at the fūinjutsu scroll, and the second was the unwelcome flashback of the previous day’s abrupt vision that once again fleetingly took over his mind. He sighed and decided to let it pass for the time being. Instead, he chose to walk towards the few congregated monks around the majestic gate. “We are about to undo the sealing jutsu. We will need the keystone to the current fūinjutsu for that.”

An elderly monk stepped forward, but not without some difficulty, and was promptly helped by a younger one with a swarthy face. Neji was wary at first of said monk, his opinion of the ancient having been taken down a notch due to the Grand Priest’s obnoxious attitude; however, he was relieved to see that the approaching aged monk seemed to be a truly gentle and kind being.

He brought the scroll he had just been given to Naruto, who took it swiftly without tearing his eyes from his previous work. Rapidly, he unfurled the scroll he had just been given and hungrily roved his eyes through it.

The current seals were sturdy and efficient at their strongest, but they were fated to steadily weaken with time. The diagram was complex, a very tangled web of intricate lines that served as triggers for the release of domino trap of raging fires. All in all, the jutsu was meant to burn the thief to a crisp, yet preserve what was meant to stay hidden intact. Naruto snorted. "Well, we do live in the Fire Country, after all," he mumbled under his breath.

Although he was no fūinjutsu prodigy, he was pretty confident about the way he would bring down the current barrier. Considering the amount and strength of fire jutsus embedded inside the technique, it could only be taken down by a large amount of shinobi capable of Water Release, and with great skill, chakra control and precise coordination. But then again, Naruto knew he could do it by himself with just the help of the two dōjutsu users, Hinata and Neji. After all, his chakra supplies were simply too massive to be allowed, he was capable of Water Release, and just as importantly, he knew what he was doing. Grudgingly, he admitted to himself that perhaps he wouldn't be able to pull it off without Hinata and Neji, considering it was a delicate process and his chakra control had never been too outstanding to begin with.

While the current barrier was indeed strong and complex, it did not hold a candle to the new one brought by the Konoha team. Naruto lowered his head in a needless attempt to hide a smile. Truthfully, that particular piece of fūinjutsu couldn’t have been performed by anyone else but him. His father had wanted him to better himself in the art of sealing, he had said so himself – and therefore he had sent Naruto on his first mission to take over a hands-on assignment that would require his full attention. He hope he would rise to the occasion, for the fūinjutsu before him was complex and very delicate indeed.

An outer layer of very powerful wind chakra, meant to slice and kill instantly – taxing, but I can do it, he mused to himself confidently. And that wind chakra is connected to a powerful release of the Kyūubi’s chakra, which can only be endured by a select few members of the in all but name extinct Uzumaki Clan, and then –

Naruto gasped, incredulous. “What the -?”

“Something wrong?” asked a slightly ill at ease Kimimaro, stepping forward from the congregated mass of shinobi monks about the gate.

Naruto blinked in rapid succession and then shook his head, a bit too hastily to be believable. Still, he let out the breath he had been holding when he saw out of the corner of his eye that Kimimaro had retreated to his former place beside his partner Jirōbō. He turned his gaze back to the scroll before him, checking that his eyes hadn’t momentarily deceived him. No, it really is here. There’s a link between the Kyūbi chakra and whatever is hidden behind this gate. Tō-chan wishes for it to be destroyed should there ever be an attempt at robbery. Just what the heck is beyond this gate? What could be so important that Tō-chan would risk alienating the Fire Temple and most likely the Daimyō himself? But I don’t think he wishes this fact to be known. Both fūinjutsu and stealth, two of my supposed weak spots? Slave-driver… 

He shook his head vigorously. His father knew what he was doing. He only had to carry out the mission as flawlessly as possible. He rolled the scroll that contained the new set of protections and stashed it in one of his flak-jacket’s pockets. “All right, Bob’s your uncle,” he told himself and patted his own chest, in an attempt to boost his confidence. He then turned his head to the gathered monks; he knew that the process could be quite perilous, and shinobi monks or not, they were still just monks who spent their entire lives in a secluded little place. On top of that, there were some who were quite advanced in years and wouldn’t therefore be able to move at the speed necessary should things get out of control.

Naruto coughed. “Priests of the Fire Temple – please step away from the gate. Same goes for you, Jirōbō-san, Kimimaro-san,” he ordered in an uncannily stern voice. Unsurprisingly, those at the end of his commands moved swiftly and without a word of complaint - Neji had already made peace with the fact that he had to temporarily capitulate his captaincy. There was one thing, though, that made Naruto briefly return back to his old goofy self. “Kimimaro-san, Jirōbō-san – you are leaving your assignment behind,” he added in barely restrained amusement. When the two bodyguards had retrieved the still unconscious High Priest – whom they had forgotten about in a brief attack of amnesia, Naruto was sure - and the field turned clear, Naruto turned to the two Hyūgas next to him.  “Neji, Hinata-san, please lend me your eyes.”

“I w-will do my b-best, Naruto-san,” stuttered the ridiculously shy girl, while her relative nodded assertively.

Naruto was briefly bewildered by their attitudes, which were exactly the opposite. Although his father was his own person and so was he, they had many personality traits in common. Same with Ero-Sennin and the Ero-Otaku. That’s because they were family. Yet, the two before his eyes gave the aura and acted like they were day and night. Bizarre, he thought, and then he proceeded to berate himself until exhaustion for his easily distracted mind.

“Right, I’m sure you’ll do great,” he replied reassuringly and crinkled his eyes like Kakashi would do. His surrogate older brother had told him again and again that it was a technique he had used on his very cute, cute students to encourage and soothe them. “The sealing we are going to take down is a vast maze of connecting traps of very powerful fire. There is one main layer of nine fire traps , and a second layer of only two, and these two seem to be especially formidable, so we really don’t want them to go out of control,” he said in a hushed voice and then paused to glance at his teammates’ faces. He smiled inwardly, they seemed to have taken in his explanation well. They both were pretty quick on the uptake – probably much more than him, he couldn’t help but add in an almost self-deprecating tone. “Traps three, four, five and six will trigger traps ten and eleven. So this is the plan: I’m going to release water chakra and although I’m going to target the main layer all at once, I need you to tell me two things. First, I need to know whether the chakra I’m releasing is concentrated enough or not; and second, I need you to verify that my water chakra both puts out each trap and nullifies the pathways between each of them.”

“Understood,” said Neji seriously, while Hinata gave him a swift nod.

Naruto drew in a sharp breath and placed the keystone on the ground. He knelt in front of him and silently asked both dōjutsu wielders to stand at each side of the gate. “You both ready?”

The piercing stare of two pairs of activated Byakugan was the response he wanted and received.

“All right, let’s get this show started then.” Naruto closed his eyes briefly in concentration and felt his inner chakra. In his mind, he pictured his chakra-conversion process like a decent-sized lake that was always hidden by ferocious and very mighty hurricanes. He knew that in reality what he was doing was distorting his raw chakra to produce wind chakra, and compressing it when he wished to perform a water jutsu – but quite honestly, he was more of a hands-on man. Instead of the proper and educated way, he needed to feel it. Inside him, the massive reserves of wind wanted to be released and free to wreak their beloved dose of havoc, but Naruto knew that wouldn’t do. His much calmer water chakra almost sizzled in happiness at the prospect of being put to such an extensive use. He let himself bathe in the sensation and felt its existence until he was satisfied he knew his own limits. Abruptly, he opened his eyes and banged his open palm against the scroll. “Kai!”

He willed his chakra into the sealing scroll, concentrating on shifting the flood of energy to follow his directions. Chakra powerful enough to quash every trap and fill every link – but not too powerful lest that the links are destroyed and the traps can be set off on their own. Focus, Naruto, focus!

Perhaps he was the only one capable of knowing  it because he was the one performing the gruelling task, but Naruto could see and feel inside him how his chakra was being weaved into the intricate maze and steadily extinguishing each of the fires. He was also rather smug about the fact that he didn’t seem to be needing too many directions from the Hyūgas. Well, it was high-time his control improved. But then again, he grudgingly admitted, he was using copious amounts of chakra at the moment. He sighed inwardly. He would never be able to do a simple Bunshin to save his life.

“N-Naruto-san, the paths that connect between traps six and eleven are being swamped!” cried Hinata worriedly.

Kuso! Sorry, sorry.” Naruto took the compulsory and unavoidable ten seconds to scold himself and then cleared his mind, focusing once again and only on the task at hand.

“We’re almost there. The main layer has been deactivated,” informed Neji. Awed gasps resounded in the background. “You are going to need to pour a lot more chakra, Naruto, now that we are about to enter the final stage.”

“Got it, ‘ttebayo,” whispered Naruto, eyes scrunched in concentration. He visualised the countless streams of winding chakra that flowed from his arm and inundated the fūinjutsu. The watercourses were numerous, but he had pulled a herculean effort to keep them thin enough. However, he then needed the opposite: no restraint. With a sigh of relief he didn’t know he had been holding, he destroyed the imaginary dam that held back his chakra and let it spill, sink and finally tear down the barrier until there was nothing left.

Naruto sat down on his behind to catch his breath in a very much deserved rest. They would soon have to start building up the new ward, so it was paramount he took a breather. Still, he was very satisfied with his work, and therefore before he knew it, he was giving the thumbs-up to his teammates. Beaming under his mask, he said happily, “It’s down!”

The air-slicing sound of a whizzing kunai towards the back of Naruto’s neck was the catalyst for all hell to break loose.  

 

End Notes:

Well, here goes the second part of the chapter. As usual, thank you Silverwolf1213 for the help provided.

Until next time,

Vermouth

The Five Intruders - Part One by Vermouth
Author's Notes:
As always, many thanks to my wonderful beta Silverwolf1213 for her invaluable work. I hope you will enjoy the chapter, and please, do read the end notes.

Chapter Thirteen

The Five Intruders

 

Instinct drove Naruto to push his upper body backwards to lay flat against the granite floors at the sound of the flying kunai rapidly zooming towards him. He rolled over and hastily jumped to his feet as he brandished a kunai of his own and held it tightly in a reverse-grip, heart pumping madly inside his ribcage while his mind was blank in blurry confusion.

                A punch to his face met him the moment he rose to his feet and he was barely able to block it. He arched his spine backwards and did two quick back-flips to put some distance between him and the unknown assailant. When his brain finally caught up with his honed subconscious instincts and he was able to grasp who exactly was attacking him, he couldn’t help but blink in confusion. “What is the meaning of this, Kimimaro, Jirōbō, and Beachboy-san?” he hollered while at the same time his eyes roamed the vaulted chamber searching for Neji and Hinata to check whether they were all right. As if on cue, both fully alert and imposing-looking Hyūga gravitated to his side, the two of them in a Jūken stance and ready to enter battle.

                His attacker, a bare-chested Kimimaro, stopped his assault and calm as you please, said, “We have orders from our master to retrieve Nidaime Hokage’s legacy, which was until now sealed inside that vault.”

                Naruto blinked, flummoxed. “Your master? What the heck did the old prune -” he gasped the moment his eyes found in the remote background the Grand Priest, whose eyes were glazed and whose body was laying on a spreading shadow of blood. Naruto did not need to check the old monk’s pulse. He was undoubtedly dead.

                “It’s obvious, isn’t it?” said Neji by his side, his bloodline limit activated. “Ashikawa Tsunesuke never was their true master. Jirōbō had even hinted at it before, Naruto.” It was a testimony to how unnerved by the sudden turn of events Naruto was that he did not catch the slightly condescending tone in the deep voice of his mission captain.

An uncharacteristically fierce and poised Hinata stared at the foes before her, her lithe body unwavering under the strain of the rigid Hyūga Jūken first stance. “The question is, who their true master is,” she pointed out without the slightest stutter. 

Jirōbō snorted derisively with an unforeseeable arrogance, the glint reflected on his eyes reaching levels of unprecedented callousness. “We are not about to answer that, you trash,” he snapped acidly. Perhaps there was something about the long-haired girl that seriously ticked him off, because he did not hesitate and charged at her faster than his obesity should have allowed. Hinata was agile in her reflexes and leapt away from Neji and Naruto, to avoid any unwanted collateral damage. Jirōbō did not pay any attention to either male and fixatedly followed the nimble silhouette of Hinata in great contempt, hurtling towards her the second she stopped.

If the situation hadn’t been so serious, Naruto would have given the mean-eyed punk a few lessons on how to deal with a crush, because really, where did he get the idea that nothing shows your love better than wanting to beat the object of your admiration to a bloody pulp? However, that passing random thought was neither here nor there.

Naruto swore under his breath. He had intended to help his pathologically shy comrade, but Kimimaro had given him no time whatsoever and swung at Naruto with a bizarre-looking white sword in a wide arc, compelling him to once again curve his spine backwards. His eyes opened up in comical confusion as he watched in almost slow motion the weapon sailing over him and realised that it had not been a sword he had been attacked with, but a bone – a frigging bone. He used his momentum to rotate his falling body, then hands on the smooth floors, he spun on the momentary axis and aimed his forceful kick at his enemy’s thigh.

His attack was successful and Kimimaro was obliged to take a step back to re-assess the masked-ninja in front of him. Unfortunately for him, although Naruto was not yet at the level of Konoha’s Yellow Flash, he was preternaturally quick and agile. Naruto took the opportunity to hastily think of a plan and then conjured up five Kage Bunshin. His clones didn’t need his orders; they already knew what to do. They rushed forward towards the still-in-the-background monks and frogmarched them out of the vault to a safer place. 

                Naruto needed to think, and think fast. Neji had already left his side, he noted, and was coolly measuring his opponent: a much tanned young man with a nasty grin on his face – and six arms. He briefly wondered whether the former and Kimimaro had been the by-products of some really sick scientist’s drunken experimentation.  Still, somehow, Naruto figured that Neji would be all right. He seemed to be, after all, the kind of person that fit the prototype of ‘prodigy’ to a tee.

He thanked that Kimimaro had taken a brief pause to gauge Naruto’s abilities – not that he would glean anything from watching his mask-covered face, anyway – because that gave him a brief respite that would give him enough time for the cogwheels inside his mind to be oiled and start turning. He had cooked up a decent plan, or so he believed. But then again, he knew almost nothing about Kimimaro – except that he had attacked him with a bone, for the love of everything that was orange.

 One of his Kage Bunshin had been created apparently to evacuate the monks, but in truth, the clone’s goal was to sprint to where Lee and Tenten were, so that they could come as quickly as possible and serve as backup. They could not fail on this mission. His father’s willingness to protect and even destroy what apparently was Nidaime Hokage’s legacy, whatever that meant, signified that failure was not an option. And yet, he wouldn’t be able to carry out such a complex fūinjutsu if he had to fight an opponent of Kimimaro’s category. It was likely he could do it without the help of the Byakugan sight, but there was no way he’d be able to with his hands full with Kimimaro. And unfortunately, Kage Bunshin would not help on that front, for the original jinchūriki had to be the one to perform it.

That dilemma gave birth to yet another one: how should they proceed. Should they try to defeat the thieves, and then perform the fūinjutsu, therefore carrying out the initial plan? Or should he aim from the start to destroy the so-called Nidaime’s legacy, and then beat the stuffing out of the crooks?

Before the merry band of misfits had launched their attack, a few minutes prior to his current predicament, there had been absolutely no doubt in his mind that his father wanted whatever was stored inside the vault protected, and if that couldn’t be, he wanted it destroyed along with the trespassers. However, he was presently in a tight situation, and that annoying, pesky, and devious little voice inside his head made him wonder whether his previous assumptions had been correct or not. Even if they had been and he opted for the destruction of the safe’s contents – what would the backlash be? Because it was one thing to set up the fūinjutsu and be years later at the end of a complaint after an attempted robbery where the valuables had been blown to smithereens; they could pass it off as an error on the sealing process and my deepest apologies. However, it was an entirely different story to outright raze the vault and its invaluable items.

How much Naruto wished he knew just what exactly was stored inside the safe could not be measured in human scales. If he had just an ounce of information about its contents, he wouldn’t be so hesitating. However, he was beginning to consider that it was not some valuable belonging to the Fire Daimyō, who was rumoured to be a very flighty and empty-headed man, and more something shinobi-related.

                Naruto also knew they had to get out of the building and fast for several reasons. The first of which meant that if the enemy was pushed outside, he could devote himself to his mission. The second was that should they keep fighting inside the Fire Temple, the building would more likely than not end up in need of severe repairs that would have to come out of Konohagakure no Sato’s vaults, which would not endear him to his future comrades and would not impress his father. Also, he didn’t think the Fire Temple monks would be too happy to see their beloved home turned into pitiful wreckage. Finally, the third reason was that if three shinobi fights took place in such a tight and cramped place, Naruto feared he could end up accidentally hurting one of his Konoha comrades.

                He simply did not know what to do, and that vexed him to no end. He needed more information, and a grounded opinion. And just when the wheels inside his head started stirring, he received the information of the clone that had been sent to look for Tenten and Lee.

                Except for that very deaf centenarian hermit in the far West side of Tsuchi no Kuni, the entire continent heard Naruto’s dulcets. “HINATA, NEJI! Lee and Tenten have been ambushed, too!”

                Sparing one sidelong glance at the contemplative Kimimaro, Naruto made up his mind. Well, that did it. He just couldn’t wing it and hope for the best. “Kuchiose no Jutsu!”

                A puff of smoke preceded the appearance of a small red toad with blue markings on the top of his head and around his eyes and green goggles about his neck. At the sight of Naruto, their youngest and most fun summoner, he smiled jovially. “Ah, Naruto – WHOAH!” That’s when he saw that Naruto was in the midst of a battle. He spared no time and jumped to hide behind his left leg. And really, was Naruto’s foe holding a bone? “Just where the blazes have you brought me? I’m a tiny, minuscule, messenger toad - not Gamabunta-sama!”

                Naruto shook his head without taking his arctic eyes from his opponent. “There’s no time, Kōsuke. I need you to go back to Konoha pronto and tell the Hokage we’ve been ambushed. We need backup and further instructions,” he ordered the toad in a hushed whisper to ensure he was out of Kimimaro’s hearing range.

                Kōsuke bobbed his bulbous head, still in a daze. “Right. I’m on – for the love of Shima-sama’s cooking, it is a bone!”

                Kimimaro had thrown his makeshift and very disturbing weapon at the defenceless toad, but Naruto, who hadn’t believed his white-haired foe would be content with merely staring at his proceedings while sipping at a cup of tea, had expected it and deftly caught between his hands the offending and crude weapon of sorts, thus sparing the toad from impalement. He quickly thrust the bone into the amphibian’s hands, making his silent plead very clear as he pierced Kōsuke with his eyes, half infuriated, half desperate. “GO!”

                “HAI!”

                Naruto sighed in relief when the compulsory pall of smoke signalled the small amphibian’s disappearance. It was decided, then. He would have to stall for the time being.

                Kimimaro broke the silence. “You have a contract with the toads, like Jiraiya of the Sannin and Yondaime Hokage,” he dully observed.

Naruto’s eyebrow rose until it hid under the shadow of his hood. “Yes. And you use a bone as a sword. On a scale of weirdness, you’d get the big prize, pal,” he retorted sardonically, his foot hissing as he slid his leg backwards, settling into a ready-to-fight position.

The glimmering light flickering from the torches about the chamber coupled with the innate gilded surface of its walls, reflected the light on his opponent’s bare and eerily pale skin, giving him the misleading appearance of an ethereal and gossamer otherworldly being. Frankly, it was at times like those when Naruto was glad the only visible parts of him were his toes, hands, and orbital region. It may have been simply due to teenage vanity, but he’d die if he was caught looking like an overgrown, sparkling fairy. However, the look on Kimimaro’s face did not match that of a benevolent if not disturbing imp of sorts, and Naruto pushed once again all of his unsystematic and illogical thoughts from his head and focused on the previously bone-wielding man facing him, fully alert. He had not forgotten - really, he hadn’t: he just about had the same thoughts constantly  playing in the back of his head like a broken record in a lousy party - that he had nearly been stabbed in two neat halves before with a bone, of all things.

                Naruto blinked in utter shock, too astonished to even maintain the capability of formulating coherent thoughts, the moment he watched his opponent’s skin rip open to allow impossibly white and sharp bones a bloody passage. His stomach seemed to be his only functioning organ, for he was paralysed, his heart seemed too stunned to even beat and his breathing had come to a screechy halt, and it churned unpleasantly at the gruesome sight displayed before him.

                As if he were able to read another person’s mind, Kimimaro explained, “This is the kekkei genkai of the Kaguya Clan, Shikotsumyaku, the Dead Bone Pulse,” he shifted his gaze to stare at the calcified hard and sharp appendages that were protruding from the middle of his back, his elbows, the palms of his hands, and his thighs. “You are about to witness my first move, Yanagi no Mae, Dance of the Willow.” He bent his knees, lowered his upper body, and then made a point to make contact with Naruto’s stupefied eyes, “Stay sharp, Konoha shinobi.”

                Naruto had never been the biggest fan of bloodline limits, because he never knew what to expect, and they could be deadly unless you figured out how to counteract them before a fatal blow was struck - a tad hypocritical coming from him, the Kyūbi no jinchūriki and the so-called number one unpredictable ninja, yes - but as he stared wide-eyed at the nightmarish ninja before him, he was positive he had never hated them more.

                He swore loudly.

-OoOoOoOoO-

Neji had believed it had been lucky for his team and unlucky for him to confront what he thought was allegedly the most monstrous and deadliest of their foes. He was, after all, a jōnin - albeit newly minted - in the midst of skilled yet still chūnin, and he was also undoubtedly the unrivalled prodigy of the Hyūga Clan. However, when his eyes spotted the atrocity his newest and enigma-shrouded comrade was facing, he realised he had not been the one to draw the short straw.

                “Yes, Kimimaro’s kekkei genkai is very flashy,” his six-armed opponent interrupted his train of thought, his voice oozing with a perfect and sizzling blend of irritation, long-held grudge, jealousy and inexplicable arrogance, successfully diverting Neji’s attention back towards his swarthy visage. “But you’ll be dead before you know it if you dare underestimate me, Tōmon no Kidōmaru.”

                Arrogant, that surmised Neji’s opinion of his adversary. Perhaps he could take advantage of that self-inflated pride. He untapped the flow of chakra and let it rush through his ocular arteries, activating his bloodline limit to see his enemy’s chakra network and tenketsu. He was team captain and had an important mission to complete, and whoever was the puppeteer who held the strings of the attack on the Fire Temple, he was not going to let them have their way. Unfortunately for his opponent, Neji had the skill to have the right to be what some would call arrogant, although he would call it being realistic.

                In any case, it was paramount they lured the enemy outside. Should three fights take in place in the gilded chamber, Neji reckoned that there would only be an aftermath of golden rubble. Even more important than the chamber they were in was the vault that guarded the objects they were supposed to protect at all costs, and presently they were even more vulnerable than before, considering the enemy had waited until all security had been taken down.

                Neji stared coldly at his arachnid-like adversary. He would have to take him down and quickly. He had seen how his very inept and maladroit cousin had been sent flying due to one miserable punch coming from her corpulent foe. Although he held nothing but contempt for her, she was still part of the Main Family of the Hyūga Clan, and therefore the value her life, almost useless as it was, weighed much more than his own. Whoever said that all human beings were equal was a downright fool. The only thing that united every living being was death.

                Kidōmaru seemed to be on the verge of yawning from boredom, a sign of his clear underestimation of Neji. A fatal error he would not have the time to regret, the Hyūga member thought dryly. The moment he was within range, the fiend before him would meet his end.

                In a flash, he sprinted towards his foe, befuddlement clouding over his mind at the sight of Kidōmaru, whose cheeks had swollen to dangerous levels, like a rodent that had put too much food for its little mouth to contain. Neji didn’t know what Kidōmaru intended to do, but he was almost close enough to –

                Neji’s body was excruciatingly slammed against the floor. His spine arched in pain, while his head throbbed viciously. He couldn’t understand what had happened, and his mind was blurry due to the hit he had received on the back of his head. One moment he had been about to finish off his adversary, and the next he was panting on the floor and – trapped?

                “What the -?” Neji writhed, his clothes softly hissing against the cool granite flooring. His eyes opened like saucers in intense disbelief as his brain processed that what held his entire frame hostage was nothing else but a gargantuan spider web. He struggled against it, more so as he realised that Kidōmaru was strutting towards him with a scornful smirk, no doubt about to grant Neji the fatal blow. His heart beat wildly inside his ribcage, flooding his brain with blood and almost driving him into a frenzy, thus rendering incapable of coherent thought. Calm down, you have to calm down! He was no good in the state he was in, and he knew it.

He focused his Byakugan on the disgusting and sticky web that bound him. It didn’t take long for his keen eyes to realise that flowing through the gummy substance, there was a constant flow of chakra. At first, his eyes widened imperceptibly in horror. This is impossible! A steady flow of chakra that does not vanish, even though he’s already spit it? There cannot be a jutsu of this level! No, wait – there are weak points on the current – that’s my target!

Kidōmaru stared down at his struggling opponent in earnest disdain. “So this is what Konoha and the fabled Hyūga Clan have to offer? Pathetic.” His cheeks puffed out again, but this time, instead of the spider web he had used before, a curved and golden, hard-looking sort of weapon came out. “I hope you said your goodbyes when you left your pitiful village, scum.”

Neji took a deep breath, feeing the air invade his lungs, and then smirked.

Kidōmaru did not have enough time to react.

In a flash, Neji had broken free by applying needle-like incisions on the weak spots of the web with his chakra. He bent his knees and extended his right arm before him, drawing his left backwards at one-hundred and eighty degrees from the right arm, adopting then the stance for the Eight Trigrams Sixty-Four Palms. “You are within my range of divination. Jūkkenhō: Hakke Rokujūyon Shō!”

Neji’s body resembled that of a deadly snake about to strike its powerless quarry. Faster than the naked eye could follow, he charged. “Two palms!” he struck Kidōmaru’s shoulders, and without giving him enough time to even grasp the concept of the sharp sting at feeling his tenketsu forcefully close, “Four palms!” his voice bellowed, guiding his stretched index and middle finger to Kidōmaru’s abdomen. “Eight palms!” his precise and pain-searing volley of attacks knocked the spider-like shinobi backwards, unable to move. “Sixteen palms!” He was a blur of scalpel-sharp hands, so quick they were almost imperceptible. “Thirty-two palms!” Kidōmaru was careening rearwards, his face contorted in honest torture. “Sixty-four palms!”

Neji’s last torrent of thirty-two consecutive strikes sent a quasi paralysed Kidōmaru soaring towards the entrance to the vaulted chamber, crashing in a limp heap of limbs. 

Neji was panting as he straightened his legs and briefly relaxed his arms.  His eyes wandered over the silhouette of an apparently defeated Kidōmaru, his brain yelling at them that they must not be as keen a set of eyes as common knowledge stated, because it wasn’t possible to remain as if nothing had happened after sixty-four tenketsu had been hit. In the end, the only thing he could do was to frown. “What is the meaning of this?”

Kidōmaru used his too many hands to hoist himself to his feet, drawing Neji’s eyes to the ceramic-resembling substance that covered his whole body. His hand twitched. The porcelain-like material cracked, bits of it falling lifelessly to the floor and revealing the smirking face of his swarthy foe. “You aren’t half bad.” Neji couldn’t help the shiver that ran though his body at the sight of the eerily anticipating leer that played on Kidōmaru’s lips. “Let’s play, Hyūga boy.”

-OoOoOoOoO-

Her left cheek was stinging badly but she didn’t care she had already been wounded. It didn’t hurt that much anyway. The overdose of adrenaline flowing through her arteries made sure of that. She charged recklessly at her smirking opponent with her back bent forwards, her arms drawn limply backwards due to the inertia as she dashed, blood running from her cheek to her ear until little droplets fell diagonally in her wake. She had to get him within range, and make sure she was fast enough not to be at the end of another haymaker. She could see his overstated chakra network, she only needed to hit his tenketsu and he would be done for. She had hit two of them before he had thrown her across the chamber - she had to finish it.

                Jirōbō snorted in open disdain at the rapidly approaching kunoichi. He leant calmly against the wall, in an attempt to convey to her that she was nothing more than an annoying fly about to be mercilessly swatted. Two pudgy hands formed the snake hand seal. “Stupid girl. You are a Hyūga. There is no way I’m letting you near me again.” He unclasped his hands and forcefully slammed his palms against the floor.  “Doton: Earth Shaking Palm!”*

                Hinata sprung away on instinct as the floor below her crumbled, missing being caught in the small earthquake by a hair. She landed with her knees bent on the balls of her feet, then hurtled forward again without a second to spare on regaining her breath, pushing her legs to give her the maximum speed to allow her to get closer to her assailant.

                “As if. Doton Kekkai: Doro Dōmu!”

                Her attempt to jump away from the collapsing circle of floors beneath her and cracking wall next to her was beyond moot. Too quick for her brain to grasp, she found herself entrapped in a wide, darkness-shrouded, claustrophobia-inducing dome of broken floorings and jagged, muddy rocks. Her breathing was raspy, filled with sudden panic as she was. She spun on her feet wildly, looking for an escape that just wasn’t there. Her traitorous lungs began to hyperventilate, and despite her rational brain’s loud warnings and orders, they kept doing so as her irrational part had commenced to take over. In her half-frenzied state, she got the sudden impression that the walls that surrounded her had keener eyes than her own.

                She lifted the hem of her baggy zip-up jacket and reached for the pouch resting on the her iliac spine, blindly drawing out a couple of sharp-edged kunai, coated them with chakra and threw them simultaneously at the wall that seemed to mock her efforts, as if telling her that it was all in vain. She glared at it spitefully when her kunai fell floppily without having left a single dent on it. Hinata pushed herself against the opposite curved wall and pursed her lips in concentration. Swiftly, she bent her knees and hurtled forward. She brought up her right knee and almost immediately rotated her hip, snapping her leg outwards to smash the wall in a forceful roundhouse kick.

                She was jolted backwards from the force of her strike, but the sight of the crack she had incorporated on the uneven wall presumably healing itself until no scratch remained made her eyes widen in surprise in midair.  She bent her spine and rested the palms of her hands on her knees, panting slightly. She frowned. She shouldn’t feel so exerted after just one kick, never mind her previous injuries. “Byakugan!”

                Outside, Jirōbō was silently cackling with glee. His outstretched arms and opened hands glowed with the chakra he was absorbing from the kunoichi he had trapped. The meagre meal couldn’t even be considered an appetiser, but at least he got the chance to squash Konoha rubbish. He turned his spherical head away from his current and very dull sight of gilded cracked walls and fixed his gaze on his associates, basking in his superiority with a malicious leer, for neither had managed yet to handicap their enemies as much as he had.

                Inside the dome, Hinata’s activated Byakugan had revealed that truth to her: her chakra was being sucked away from her, and with no apparent way to stop it. She looked at her palms, tracing over the birth lines on them and gave out a weary and resigned sigh. She hadn’t been quick enough, once again, to realise that not only the technique soaked up the enemy’s chakra, who presently was her, but it was also coated in it all around it, which explained the outset baffling ability to auto-heal. What got her mind thinking, however, was the fact that not all parts of the barrier were veneered with the same amount of chakra. Most likely, the thinnest parts were the areas furthest away from her assailant. If she could only get him to talk to verify her opinion…

                “Given up already, you Konoha scum?”

                Bingo. If Hinata had possessed the amazing and ridiculously rare ability to smirk, she would have done so until her muscles seized up from overexertion. However, such capabilities were beyond her, being able of only a small, satisfied quick upturn of her outer lip.

                Her plan was reckless and more than foolhardy, but it was the only plan that came to mind she thought would work. Besides, she didn’t really care. She flexed and stretched her right fingers in tandem, took in a deep breath, closed her fist and thrust her arm forward in a resounding punch. At the same time, her left arm drew two exploding tags and quickly stuck them to the exact spot she had just hit. Just as speedily, she shoved herself backwards and barricaded herself against the opposite side of the fortification, quickly pouring chakra from all of her tenketsu to wrap herself in a protective cocoon.

                Index and middle fingers straight, she flexed the rest of them in a seal of confrontation and drew her hand to her mouth, her two outstretched fingers dimpling her parted lips. Heart skipping a beat, she whispered, “Baku.”

                BOOM.

                The sensation of hundreds of small embers raging through most of her body was not one she was willing to repeat any time sooner, but as she was sent zooming backwards, the sight of the rubble of debris that had been her gritty jail drew a very satisfied if not half-crazed smile on her bleeding lips. Her foe’s stricken face was just an added bonus. And oh, her explosion had been so near one of the chambers walls it was cracking towards the ceiling. Well, that wasn’t good. Ceilings falling on human heads were most definitely not good.

                At the sight of the fissuring then cracking roof, the other two fights stopped immediately and each shinobi sought cover. Fortunately for the somewhat demented whizzing girl, it was Naruto who caught her. He was forcefully jostled backwards and instinctually grabbed her by the waist and shoulders as he tried to regain his balance. He jerked his head in horror towards his teammate when he felt the indisputably horrifying sensation of warm liquid slithering on his arms. The masked shinobi jumped backwards and bent his knees, placing her on the ground to check her injuries. His skin paled to unhealthy levels when his eyes raked over her numerous and serious injuries.

                She was bleeding profusely and the skin on her face was badly scorched. Her jacket was but a web of burnt rags. He let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding when at least her thorax and abdomen appeared to have suffered no injury, covered as they were in mesh armour. Her legs, though, were an entirely different matter. Nothing seemed broken, but the unmistakable stench of burnt flesh was enough for his stomach to churn unpleasantly. It was a miracle the reckless girl had survived the rash stunt she had just pulled, Naruto reckoned in wild disbelief. Her pupils were abnormally dilated, as if she were deeply dazed or on the verge of losing consciousness. Well, it wasn’t such a far-fetched thought. The girl had after all set off at least one explosive tag in her proximity to escape the rock-strewn gaol she had been imprisoned in.

He rotated his head to take in the surroundings. The ceiling had collapsed and there was nothing left of the walls except for the sparse and jag-ended pieces randomly scattered, but the vault behind him with the behemoth crest was still intact He cursed inwardly, there was nothing at hand to use to stop her bleeding. He berated himself amongst the safety of a pile of smoking debris for not being capable of performing any sort of medical jutsu when her eyes snapped open, sparkling with life and anticipation.  

                “I’m fine, Naruto-san. Please allow me to stand up,” said Hinata, trying to break free from Naruto’s death-grip. It was, perhaps, the abnormal steely lack of fear in her eyes – and a healthy dose of utter shock - that unwittingly compelled him to slacken his hold. “My enemy does not seem to be extraordinarily skilled when compared to the one you and Neji nii-san are facing. I have to do my best,” she added through bleeding lips in what seemed to be more like determined mantra than a dialogue with the stunned jinchūriki. She pushed herself to her feet with uncanny strength and resilience, the small wince skirting on her lips being the only sign of her stinging pain and left his side to fiercely charge at the obese shinobi, dark blue hair swaying in her wake.

                Naruto transitorily stared after her, dazed and bewildered, and caressed the implausible theory that the Hyūga girl suffered from a case of undiagnosed bipolarity, before he shook his stupor away and raked the wreckage of a chamber for the unflappable Kimimaro. However, amidst the confusion, worry and shock, there was a tiny smile playing on his ninja mask-concealed lips. He had thought Hinata was a bit too dark and sullen and too clinically shy, a bit of an emo weirdo, to be honest. But he realised that deep down the girl had guts, even though she most likely wasn’t aware of it. He did like gutsy people, dattebayo.

                Unaware of Naruto’s conundrum, Hinata swept and jumped over the hubris of serrated rocks in the direction of Jirōbō, whose opulent body was very difficult to hide. Perhaps it was the adrenaline rushing through her body, or perhaps it was the fact that she knew she wouldn’t last much longer as she could feel the warm and enticing darkness at the back of her brain threatening to engulf her consciousness, but Hinata was running towards him at a much faster speed.

                Her eyes were beginning to blur, but she could have sworn there was a rise in the chakra levels of her foe as an odd, triangular set of markings crept on his face. She wouldn’t give him the time, she thought, to prepare any new techniques. He had already done enough harm. Still in midair, she bent her knees and separated her arms in a one-hundred and eighty degrees distance, adopting a pose very much like her cousin had done before.

                Jirōbō paid no heed at the small droplets of sweat that rolled down his face due to the sight of the incoming bullet in the shape of a badly injured and copiously injured kunoichi. He had the cursed seal, he was undefea -

                “Too slow!” she snarled. Hinata was a soaring few inches above him, knees bent and fingers menacingly drawn like a spear.  “Hakke Sanjūni Shō!” 

-OoOoOoOo-

 

End Notes:

OK, let me explain two things that I thought may bring some controversy in this chapter. The first is, quite obviously, Hinata. Before some of you may start complaining that she is much out of character, hear me out, please.

Hinata has been brought down all of her life, and in this story’s case, she didn’t have the little ray of sunshine that Naruto is. She did, however, still have the love and trust from Kurenai, Kiba, and Shino. In my opinion, Hinata could’ve out in three different ways: A) Incredibly angry; B) Clinically depressed; and C) Almost suicidal. Option A is out. I can’t see Hinata behaving like psycho-Sasuke. Option B would indeed be the most logical and common choice – but I can’t work with a character to whom I wish I could force-feed antidepressants. Option C is the only one left for me – so I’m going to explain it a bit.

Hinata doesn’t really want to live anymore because she considers her life is worthless. However, she can’t outright just slash her veins because there are three people (namely, Kurenai, Shino, and Kiba), who value her and trust her, so she can’t bring herself to disappoint them. However, she still doesn’t want to live that much. She may go to extremes in battle missions, because if she is KIA, she at the same time gets her wish, and doesn’t think she will disappoint her team. Also, she believes that perhaps, if she dies in the line of duty and in a somewhat memorable way, her father will be able to remember her ‘fondly’ instead of the usual contempt.

Second thing, Shisui. Yes, I made him gay. No, I’m not changing it. I’ve given his personality too much thought to change it, and I really like it. No, he won’t get vulgar in his advances. Some innuendo here and there is funny, but too much and it just gets gross.

Oh, Jirōbō’s technique. Yeah, I can’t find it in Japanese. Not even Narutopedia has it in Japanese.

I might have to up the rating to ‘M’ because of violence and bad language. Seriously, there’s Tayuya. That alone is reason enough to use a higher rating. I wonder if using bad words in Japanese will allow me to keep the ‘T’ rating, although perhaps that is wishful thinking.

Concerning Tobi

Tobi will NOT be Obito in this story. This story was planned with another identity for Tobi from the start, and I will not change it. I had a theory about Tobi’s identity that did not involve anyone descended from the Rikkudou, the Sage himself included (which obviously rules out any Uchiha, Uzumaki, and Senju), but I'm out of time. So I'm keeping my ideas, and I have modified the prologue, and added an extra scene. Many of you, I’m sure, will figure out now who I intend Tobi to be.

Until next time,

Vermouth

The Five Intruders - Part Two by Vermouth
Author's Notes:
Sorry for the awful lack of imagination for this chapter. Truthfully, it's a bit of a bother to have to always split my chapters in halves and come up with different titles each time I post.

Chapter Fourteen

Go shin'nyū-sha

 

It had not been a very youthful start for a new year, Lee reflected in a glum mood, while his eyes scanned the area for any possible and unwelcome disturbances. Fortunately, the forest seemed tranquil and undisturbed, except for the few venturous critters that dared to leave their burrows.

A sudden thought - and a brilliant one at that, he believed - gripped his mind. He closed his left fist and bumped it against his right open palm in rapt determination. “Yoshi! To make up for all the unyouthfulness, I will do a thousand push-ups!” He knew Gai-sensei would be proud of him. He was a very optimistic young man, with lofty and noble ambitions. He was not the type of person who chose to brood, he always would see the silver lining. The simple combination of youth, hard work and raging fires was enough to make things right in his world.

His spirits were momentarily dampened, however, when a sudden fellow appeared at the clearing he was in for he was forced to stop his invigorating training. Years of rigorous training and honing of his skills coiled his body into an alert yet still approachable posture.  The looming figure might very well be just one lost wanderer, after all, in need of directions or youth. Rock Lee was without a sliver of doubt a very open-minded fellow that held no prejudice towards the many different kinds of people that roamed the world. He was unbiased to the point that the fact that the approaching figure was a two-headed man with green lipstick did not seem to frazzle him in the slightest. Everybody had their quirks, after all.

“Ohayō, Stranger-san,” he greeted cordially. “What brings you to this side of the Fire Country?”

The two-headed stranger stopped in his tracks at the sight of the spandex-clad, bowl-cut shinobi ten feet away from him and snorted in open derision. He would have to fight a flamboyant idiot, it seemed. Well, whatever, at least it would be a quick fight. At any rate his brother wouldn’t get impatient and force him to prematurely end a fun fight, for Sakon did not believe that the gaudy teen would be a worthy opponent.

He cracked his knuckles and gave Lee a very derisive leer. “Make it last at least five minutes, will you?”

Lee’s caterpillar-like eyebrows steeply arched down. This was not a friendly rover, he recognised. The sole of his sandal shushed against the crispy earth, leaving a small semicircular pattern as he placed his left leg behind him. Knees slightly flexed, he drew back one of his arms to rest on the posterior curve of his pelvis and brought forth his bent at the elbow right arm. Opening his palm, he strained the muscles of his hand into a rigid invitation, as if to say ‘Come’.

The baggy greyish shirt whistled against the winds as Sakon lunged at the flashy, unmoving and insultingly welcoming shinobi, one arm drawn back and hand closed into a tight fist ready to strike and wipe off that grating serene look on his foe’s face.

Lee brought his left arm up and blocked the incoming punch by forcefully wrapping his fingers around the other’s wrist, his lips slightly quirking upwards at the stunned expression on the two-headed shinobi. Swiftly, he forcefully tugged at the clasped wrist towards him, unbalancing his foe, and using it as his axis, he kicked the ground and spun over the heads of the back-facing falling shinobi. He released his hold on the wrist and grabbed the shoulders with his bandaged-covered hands, then dug his knee into his upper spine, a couple of inches below the apparently sleeping extra head.

Sakon’s body arched backwards and painfully slammed against the earth. He coughed fitfully, half enraged, half disbelieving at the fact that the glitzy teen had been able to land such a powerful blow like that, making a complete fool out of him. He bared his teeth and used his arms to push himself off the ground. He would not be the one biting the dust at the end of the day.

Sakon glared at Lee, maddened at the fact that the latter was back into his ‘Please attack me’ pose. He would show that trash. He only hoped that his older brother wouldn’t wake up any time soon, because undoubtedly Ukon would let his impatient nature take over and would want the spandex-clad shinobi quickly dealt with. That wouldn’t do. Sakon had a lesson to teach. You just do not mess with the second strongest member of the Sound Five.

“What is your purpose, Two-Headed-san?” asked Lee, hoping to glean a bit of information from his assailant. “Why are you attacking me?”

Sakon shrugged his shoulders in a nonchalant yet aloof way. “Orders are orders. But you don’t have to worry about that,” he spitefully added, rolling his shoulders for good measure, “You Konoha ninja will be dead shortly.”

Lee pursed his lips, forfeiting his characteristically jovial attitude. “You shouldn’t underestimate the youthful prowess of the Village Hidden in the Leaves, Aggressor-san.”

Sakon leered at him, curling his body and tensing his muscles in anticipation. “Perhaps one of you will be able to defeat Jirōbō as the only thing he is good at is stuffing himself. But the rest of you are doomed.” He paused then slowly grinned from ear to ear, sending shivers down Lee’s spine at the sheer maliciousness the shift of muscles showed. “Oh boy. I would have liked to see Kimimaro in action. Whoever is fighting that beast is already dead.” Sakon ran a hand through his grey chin-length hair, and his grin got even wider and nastier, if such a thing were possible. “But don’t worry; I won’t give you the time to mourn. You’ll rejoin your friends shortly. Rejoice.”

Lee blinked, confused. It was a futile quest to try to make him understand sarcasm, his teammate Tenten knew well. Therefore, Sakon watched with an arched eyebrow as confusion momentarily swam around the eccentric shinobi’s even more eccentric face and then was pushed away. Sakon snorted. He really was facing an idiot. Still, that nitwit had managed to land a very powerful knee kick on his back, and it still very much hurt. He was going to pay for that insolence.

Sakon leant on the balls of his feet and sprinted forward. His arm was already outstretched, ready to land a blow, and Sakon smirked as he watched his opponent’s quick moves, who raised both of his bandaged hands to parry Sakon’s clout, and then pivoted his hip to elevate his right leg for another crushing strike. It’s useless, idiot, “Tarenken!”

Three fists swung at Lee, who had been unable to predict the enemy could sprout extra arms and was flung backwards by the unexpected clobbering. He forced his body into a midair spin and landed on his knees. He touched briefly his sore chest while he frowned at his simpering opponent.

The sound of a bone cracking echoed in the air, and Lee gasped as he watched the extra head, come to life and shift itself in his adversary’s body like as if it were liquid. Lee noticed that the two faces, not even an inch from each other, were identical except for the different expressions they bore. While his opponent’s had been leering and sadistic, the new one was cross and impatient.

“Oy, Sakon. You’ve had your fun. Put an end to this already,” ordered the extra head in a commanding voice that left no room for objections.

Sakon sighed. “Hai, hai. As you say, big brother.” They simultaneously closed their eyes, taking one deep breath. “Let’s finish this.”

Lee briefly wondered, as he watched in a confused state as a spot-like black pattern slithered up his foe’s – or foes’? – faces, whether apart from having two heads and being able to sprout at will extra limbs, they were part Dalmatians, too.

-OoOoOoOoO-

Tenten flicked a kunai in boredom. She didn’t want to sound like the second coming of the infamous Nara Shikamaru, but the mission she had been assigned to was turning out to be incredibly troublesome. The sheer tripe she and her team had been forced to put up with was beyond ludicrous. On top of that, they had been sided with a new teammate she knew knowing about. For goodness’ sake, he constantly wore a black hood over his head and that Kakashi-style ninja mask getup, so she didn’t even know what his face was like. Still, she had to admit that she found those arctic blue eyes mesmerising.

                Tenten marshalled her thoughts and brought her mind to her current duty: patrolling the perimeter of the Temple. It was a lonely and tedious job, but it was easy enough. At least she wouldn’t have to endure the misogynistic priest’s unbearable attitude. She did not envy Hinata’s position, not at all.

                She sighed, briefly pondering the state in which the Hyūga girl would return. She already had more than enough personality problems. She didn’t know Hinata that well, but over the years she had gleaned enough from Neji. Her prodigious teammate gravitated towards introversion – except when he was angry. There had been a fair few times when she had seen him storm through the training grounds and thrown himself in a fit to rest against one of the punching stands. Years of experience had taught Tenten how to deal with him. Patience was a key factor if you didn’t want to be at the end of his vicious remarks.  Just let him brood for a little bit – or for a long time – in his customary crossed-legged, crossed-arm, and Glare of Death position. When his muscles started slacking, that’s when Tenten knew it was safe to approach him.

                Tenten rubbed her cheek wearily. Her teammates were all a handful. Even though Neji seemed at first glance to be a well-rounded individual with a good head on his shoulders, she knew better. Her prodigious teammate was very equable and reliable when it came to missions and ninja affairs, but when it came to friendship and social relationships, he was beyond stunted. It was preposterous. But then again, she conceded, she knew basically nothing of the stern ways of the Hyūga Clan. Having been born with unrivalled skill and flair, but never acknowledged the way he should and forced into the role of a servant under the threat of excruciating torture… Yes, Tenten could see where Neji came from, even though he could sometimes exasperate beyond human belief.

                A sudden gust of wind, carrying with it an icy, ill-intended, and menacing breeze, snapped Tenten out of her musings. Her gaze slid towards the nearest copse of half-frozen trees, her features schooled into an impassive mask so as to not give away that she had detected a foreign presence. Nothing gave away the prowler’s nearness except for the faint, contained aura of bloodlust and malevolence that permeated the air.

                She didn’t hesitate. She spun the kunai in her hand by the ring of the pommel, then slid her hand over the iron shaft and flung it with dead accuracy at the focal point she had detected in a near coppice. There was a rustle in the thicket, and Tenten knew her senses hadn’t fooled her.

She bent her knees and raised her left hand a foot away from her face in a defensive stance, while her other hand moved automatically to grab one of her weapon scrolls. “I already know you are there. There’s no point in keeping the pretence. Come out.”

But whoever was hiding amongst the copse either hadn’t heard her or had decided to completely ignore her request. Considering she hadn’t been shy about her voice volume, she thought the first option was highly unlikely. Tenten did not appreciate being ignored. Her rational mind was muted enough as it was by the overwhelming and indomitable force of her quasi bigorexic and dysfunctional squad. A gift in the form of a paper bomb attached to a kunai would surely be proof enough of her displeasure, she thought.

BOOM.

Tenten watched impassively as a red-headed woman with soot on her face emerged from her hiding spot. She was spastically coughing, the hand covering her mouth holding a purple flute, and glaring at her in what Tenten supposed was a threatening manner promising all kinds of torture, but Konoha’s weapon mistress remained unflappable. Although inwardly, Tenten wondered what kind of ninja her newfound enemy was, for there was no doubt in her mind that the girl in front of her was a kunoichi. She had never heard of anyone using a musical instrument as a weapon.

“You bleeding wench,” hissed the red-headed kunoichi, wiping the soot off her stained face. “You are going to pay for that. Kuchiose no Jutsu!”

Tenten couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her lips as three mammoth and ghastly figures appeared out of thin air. One had its entire head covered by sandy hair, the second was bare-chested and hand bandages covering the eye area, and the third’s upper body resembled an armless mummy. Like the red-headed kunoichi, they all wore a purple, rope-like braided belt circled in an inverted bow around their waists. Perhaps more disturbing than their undead-like appearance, Tenten thought, was the fact that their mouths were sewn.

Her gaze slid towards the summoner of the three grotesque beings, wondering how she would use them. Her eyes raked the form of the older kunoichi: calm and utterly concentrated on the flute that barely touched her lips.

The sound of a strained melody filled the clearing. 

-OoOoOoOoO-

Minato groaned in his office. He told himself he was never drinking again and mentally squashed that jarring little voice in his mind that promptly reminded him in that that was what everyone said before drinking themselves into stupor the following night. He snarled at the resurfacing impish squeak: could it not see that he was in excruciating pain? His head slumped forwards and raised his arms to pull his Hokage cloak over his head in an attempt to protect his stinging eyes from the infernal menace that was the unseasonably bright light flittering through his drape-less window. For once, he hated not having curtains over it.

                A small puffing sound accompanied by a wisp of smoke forced the Yondaime to reluctantly lift the cloth over his face, but the gap was only wide enough for one beady, rheum-packed bloodshot eye to catch a glimpse of two webbed, red and small feet placed on his neglected paperwork. He released his hold on his cloak and let his arm collapse, placidly setting his cheek against a wad of more neglected paperwork. Only a couple of hours of sleep that was all he needed. He would be as fit as a fiddle after a two-hour long nap. Definitely.

                “Happy New Year, Toad-san, and good night,” he slurred, not minding the puddle of drool that was pooling on his makeshift pillow. It would be a bit of an embarrassment and a setback later to find his paperwork blotchy and smeared, but his current mammoth hangover was clouding his rational mind.

                But the toad did not seem aware of the Hokage’s predicament. “Yondaime, Yondaime, we have an emergency!”

                Minato groaned once more, the vibrations of the talking toad’s erratic jumping on his table were making him dizzier than he already was. “Oh that’s right. We live in a ridiculous world where toads can talk and mountain-sized monsters can be sealed in a baby’s gut. Right.”

                A frantic Kōsuke blinked in disbelief at the Hokage’s cavalier attitude. Webbed hands shaking in distress, he forgot for a moment that he was a young tiny toad in the presence of the fabled Yondaime Hokage, and bopped Minato’s robe-covered head with the bone he had carried with as much strength as he could muster, which wasn’t much more than an annoying little sting, to be honest, but it was torture for the hungover Minato.

                The Hokage was jolted straight on his chair and massaged his throbbing head while hatefully glaring at the runt of a toad on his desk, who didn’t seem impressed. “What’s the meaning of this, Kōsuke-kun?” he asked sourly.

                “I’m trying to tell you, Yondaime-sama! Naruto and his team have been ambushed, and they are fighting a set of freaks of nature!” The round-faced amphibian yelled, frantically waving his hands over his head.

                Minato blinked. “What? Explain. Now.”

                Despite his raging headache, Minato was able to push it aside as he devoted his energy and diminished concentration on the agitated toad’s explanation. The red-skinned messenger seemed to be very fixated on the fact that one of the enemies used a bone as a weapon, but that wasn’t Minato’s priority. What raised the alarm bells in his head was that somehow, information that should only be passed from Hokage to Hokage had been leaked. Nobody but the late Sandaime, the Daimyō, and himself should know what was stored inside the vault at the Fire Temple. Not even the monks there were allowed to know. Unless… Unless the advisors were aware. It wouldn’t be a far-fetched thought, as two of them had once been the students of the Nidaime Hokage, Senju Tobirama. If Koharu and Homura knew, that could only mean one thing. Minato’s stomach churned.

Danzō.

He rubbed his temples in a soothing manner and applied a little chakra to ease the sharp sting of his throbbing headache, even if only a little. Minato tuned out the toad’s frantic rambling about the peculiar weapon, but made a point to inspect the bone he had brought, even though it was just for show. However, the moment the blond leader’s hands circled over the impossibly-white and edged weapon of sorts, his eyebrows frowned. It wasn’t an ordinary bone; he could feel chakra embedded in it. Paying no heed to the still babbling toad, Minato hastily drew two sheets of paper and wrote two harried notes.

“Take this to Naruto, Kōsuke-kun,” he ordered, handing the note to the small amphibian, while he folded the second piece of paper and stashed in one of his flak-jacket’s pockets.

What? You want me to return to a battle?” the tiny amphibian faltered, aghast.

Minato pushed back his chair and stood up, “Yes,” he ordered in a stern voice that left no room for disobedience and without sparing the consternated toad another glance, he opened his window and jumped onto the tiled roof, his eyes set in the direction of the Uchiha compound.

The cold January weather hissed against his face as he rushed at a frightening speed towards his destination, but he didn’t even notice. He had cast away his searing headache; the wind’s scratches on his tanned skin meant nothing. Cloak billowing, he silently leapt from rooftop to rooftop, too fast for anyone other than trained shinobi to see. From time to time, in his haste he pushed his sandaled feet against the tiled rooftops with much too force, and the ceramic surface would pitifully crack under the sudden strain. Occasionally, sparse keen ears belonging to some villagers would pick up on the creaking sound and their heads would turn around to search for the source that disrupted the cosy calmness that shrouded the village, but a second later, they would be compelled to pass it off as a figment of their imagination for there was nothing to be seen, only the rustle of wind and spiralling leaves.

Although it didn’t take him long to reach the Uchiha compound, Minato felt the journey there had taken him an eon and a day. His bloodshot eyes roamed the silhouette of the imposing wooden entrance, flanked at both sides by the red and white fan that depicted the Uchiha crest. The gate stood as unwelcoming and cold as ever, and he knew that even though he was the Hokage, it was very likely that he wouldn’t be allowed entrance – and even if he were, it would be with grudging reluctance. It was fortunate then, he realised, that the two single Uchiha members he fully trusted and valued were talking to each other in hushed tones and worried looks at the entrance.

Both Uchiha clansmen halted their conversation in abrupt silence, shoulders tense, no doubt worrying whether they had been overheard by unwelcome ears. The uncommon brightness of the Hokage’s yellow hair and his steely blue eyes put them at ease, and they both let out the breath they didn’t know they had been holding. Timid rays of sunlight slithered over their faces, mockingly reflecting on the pasty and unhealthy skin of the two young shinobi.     

“Hokage-sama,” greeted Itachi cordially, bowing his head in respect, the hilt of his tantō protruding from his back.

“Blondie-chan,” saluted Shisui n his characteristic familiar and flirty tone, a soft smile playing on his lips, almost shadowing the black rings under his eyes. “So nice to see you this morning. Are you that eager for my report that you had to come here in person, or are you finally going to succumb to my manly, manly charms?”

Minato shook his head almost imperceptibly, and Shisui knew that instant that the Hokage was there on serious business. He instantly dropped his jovial attitude and went back to his cold and serious ANBU persona.

“Itachi-kun, I need you to send this note to your brother via Kuchiose.” Minato dug out the messily-folded piece of paper and handed it to the unfazed Uchiha prodigy. “Sasuke’s team is stationed very close to where another team is in trouble,” he explained briefly. Perhaps it was unnecessary, but he knew how much Itachi loved his little brother – for reasons Minato couldn’t fathom other than blood relation -, but the tiny twitch on the corner of  the face of the otherwise unflappable young ANBU captain told Minato that sharing that small bit of information had been the correct choice.

“Hai, Hokage-sama.”

Minato watched next to a silent Shisui as a small eagle appeared on Itachi’s left arm in a puff of smoke. Itachi murmured a string of inaudible words to the young bird, and attached the note to its talon. The fowl cawed once and nipped one of his summoner’s pale fingers before vanishing again.   

“Thank you, Itachi-kun,” whispered Minato gratefully, the tension coiled around his body slowly unravelling and uncoiling, deflating his frame and allowing the exhaustion and sickly feeling to wash over him once again. “Sorry to interrupt you again, but would you mind if I stole Shisui-kun for a while?”

Itachi shook his head, his loose ponytail swinging behind his head. “No, Hokage-sama, I don’t mind. However,” he paused to send a wary and warning tone at his perplexed leader, “beware of his advances.” The undignified yelp of indignation coming from his cousin brought a small smirk to his lips. “He’s been rather frolicsome as of late, and we all know you are his favourite fancy.”

Shisui tugged at the tips of his black hair in mock desperation. “Itachi was so cute, and now he’s so cheeky. Where did I go wrong in his education?” he moaned, much to Minato’s amusement.

“Yes, woe is you, Shisui,” deadpanned the younger Uchiha. Pulling at the loose strap of his ANBU armour, Itachi faced the entertained Hokage, silently questioning whether his presence was further needed. Minato instantly grasped what Itachi was quietly hinting at, and with a wave of his hand, he dismissed the young captain, allowing him to leave the theatrical Shisui behind.

“Come on, Shisui, you and I are in for a long day,” Minato coaxed him, placing his hand on his shoulder to steer him in the direction of his office.

Shisui perked up immediately, and Minato faltered in his steps as he wondered whether he had activated his bloodline and put him in a genjutsu, for there was no way the little hearts in Shisui’s eyes could be real. Warily, he relinquished his hold on the Uchiha and put a couple of feet between them.

“Will there be bondage, and blindfolds, and cuffs involved, Yondy-sama?”

Minato’s left eye twitched. “There will be – in a cell and in the company of Ibiki-kun if you keep on dallying.” He turned around and began his stride towards the Hokage Tower, faintly smiling as one of his cheekiest subordinates followed him in faked unwillingness. His eyes roved over the still sleeping village, taking in the amount of garbage littered over the empty streets after the New Year’s celebration. “News?”

Shisui once again dropped his playful approach. A shadow of uncertainty crept on his face while he rubbed his lower lip in hesitation. “I’ve got two sets of news, Hokage-sama. Bad news and I-Don’t-Know-What-To-Make-Of-This news.”

Minato waved at a passing villager with a gentle smile on his face, hiding from view his apprehension at Shisui’s words. His gait became slower and more alert, his spine tingling uncomfortably as he resigned himself. “The bad news?”

“You look awful. Seriously. I have half the mind to leave your fanclub.”

Minato walked straight into a lamppost.

Shisui!”

He couldn’t help the unwilling fond smile that crept on his lips at the sight of the doubling-in-laughter ANBU captain. He rubbed his now pink and sore forehead, applying once again chakra to hold at bay the lurking headache, and shook his head in acquiescence. Despite how out of place and inopportune Shisui’s jokes were, he was glad the young man could still laugh like that, considering the ever-creeping veil of darkness that surrounded the Uchiha Clan.

“Sorry, sorry, couldn’t resist it. Blimey, that was priceless. Pity I didn’t have a camera to immortalise the moment our mighty and fearless Hokage crashed against a streetlamp,” he wheezed, wiping the tears off his pale face. “Sorry, I’ll be serious now.”

Minato arched an eyebrow in disbelief.

Shisui sighed. “Nothing. There was absolutely nothing. There were still traces left of the fight, despite it happening such a long time ago, but no corpse was ever buried there.” At the enquiring look from his superior, Shisui took a deep breath before launching an explanation. “When a person dies, the chakra seeps out of them. If a person is slain in battle, the spot where they died will have a blotch that can last for a very long time, depending on the strength of their chakra. If someone with a particularly strong chakra is buried, then the mark should be much stronger. And considering whose corpse you have assigned me to look for, I’m positive it shouldn’t have waned in the span of fifty years.”

Minato sighed wearily. “It was wishful thinking it would be that easy. Have you had breakfast yet, Shisui? We can discuss the next location over a hot cup of tea.”

Shisui seemed to be in deep thought, if the crease on his forehead was a good indicator. After a few seconds, he made up his mind and smiled mischievously at Minato. “All right. But can it be in bed? And clothing optional?”

 

-OoOoOoOoO-

The handsome black-haired teen inspected the note carefully, the sun illuminating his slightly annoyed features as his eyes raked over the even more than usual illegible handwriting. He tore the piece of paper into minuscule pieces and cast them away, sprinkling tiny particles over the blanket of frosty grounds. He tightened his armguards over the alabaster skin of his forearm and lower bicep and donned his flak-jacket before deftly casing his trusty chokutō in its leather sheath, draped diagonally on his back.

                Leaning on a tree, he turned his head to the small creek where his two teammates were cleaning their weapons and other utensils. “Sakura, Kabuto - we’ve got work to do.”   

 

End Notes:
Thank you, Silverwolf1213 for your invaluable beta-reading skills.
This story archived at http://www.narutofic.org/viewstory.php?sid=10642