That’s what my father told me, before he died.
That’s how this particular story begins, per say.
The smell of rain polluted the air.
A young man clad in a red and black cloak entered the old fashioned house in contrast to the many trees surrounding the house.
The bells chimed.
The house was old at best; the wooden posts dulled over the erosion of time, creating a sand brown color. Among the entrance, hung two candle lit lanterns to aid the deceased find their homes. Two rocking chairs sat in the corner of the patio, overlooking the deterred trees.
The young man chuckled and brushed his fingers upon the light switch, “I’m home,” he called out. He slipped off of his muddy shoes and his cloak, which he threw on the coat rack with grace.
“Oh, it’s just you, aniki. I thought it would be a customer,” a twelve year old boy replied as he spat out the nail that was wedged between his teeth onto his small hands, “but welcome home anyway.”
The raven hair boy dressed in overalls pocketed the nail with the hammer of his back pocket. His dark blue bandana hugged his head of hair as it kept it out of place while he jumped on his brother’s back.
“Piggy back ride!” he yelled joyously as his cobalt eyes danced with the full moon. He was too old for a piggy back ride; perhaps he just wanted to screw with his elder brother (not in that manner, mind you).
A grey cat mewled at annoyance of the two brothers. They disturbed him from watching a television drama that the little kitten dubbed the best show ever, Come Come Paradise. His mismatch eyes of red and black went back to the television screen.
The young man had red eyes that seemed to glow in the dark while he ran around, up and about with his little brother, the one you all know as little Uchiha Sasuke.
Thunder roared and Itachi halted the laughter.
The bells chimed.
“You have a customer, aniki,” Sasuke climbed off of Itachi with similar glowing eyes.
“I’ll see to it,” he said as he pulled his hair back into a small ponytail. He walked down the stairs and deemed it was too dark.
He waved him arm in an upward motion, delighted that the lights turned on by his command. The lights emitted a beautiful glow that complimented the oriental furniture.
“Welcome,” Itachi’s silky voice spoke, alarming the visitor.
“It’s nice to meet you,” a man of his late fifties said as he admired the room, “you can call me Jiraiya.”
“Jiraiya-san, please have a seat,” Itachi offered, “Kakashi prepare some tea.”
The cat hissed irritably as he was interrupted by his master but nonetheless, complied and trotted into the kitchen.
“Come Come paradise eh?” Jiraiya said, “You know, I wrote the books that influenced the drama.”
“How talented,” Itachi praised offhandedly.
“No, it’s nothing really.”
“Modesty is a virtue I suppose,” a man with wild silver hair entered the room, a muffled voice through the mask, “Jiraiya-sensei.”
“And you are?” the man looked at him quizzically.
“Hatake Kakashi—”
“My cat,” Itachi interrupted, “so let’s get down to business shall we?”
“Of course, let’s not lag behind.”
“You may leave, Kakashi-san.”
The silver hair man smiled behind his mask. A small popping sound was heard; a small grey cat with mismatched eyes was in its place and trotted to the television upstairs with glee, to be finally reunited with the drama.
“Jiraiya-san, are you familiar of the saying, an eye for an eye?” Itachi asked.
“I’m afraid I do not understand.”
“Let me clarify this for you, I do not often work for income. I grant wishes because they are beneficial to me. You see, it’s an exchange. I do you a favor, you do me one.”
“I just want a glimpse of the future.”
“A glimpse of the future?”
“Precisely.”
“Knowing the future is a dangerous thing, we at this shop accept everything that will happen when I see it. I make no change of the present to modify what was supposed to happen.”
“And the exchange?”
“It will not cost you much. I believe that you are the author of the series Come Come Paradise?”
Kakashi’s ears perked up, it wasn’t unusual that Itachi thought of someone other than himself, but curiosity got the better of him.
“Yes, I am.”
“That is what I want, the unreleased material.”
“That can be done.”
“Wonderful.”
Within a blink of an eye, Uchiha Sasuke appeared beside Jiraiya.
“Here is a paper crane, ojii-san. Accepting this is proof that this is a fair deal.”
Jiraiya took the black and red folded crane.
Itachi’s red eyes swirled magnificently; Jiraiya couldn’t help but bore his eyes into Itachi’s.
Jiraiya gasped sharply as he realized he was no longer in the house of the oriental furniture; instead he was walking on a city block.
He probably sent me on my way, the old man thought as he walked towards the city lights.
He noticed a melodious flapping of wings nearby and ran towards it.
The small crane emitted a surreal red glow, beckoning the man to follow it.
With every twist and turn he ran, he was closer to his objective.
He halted in the middle of the street for a breather but felt immobilized as he saw the truck coming closer. The white lights shone on him as the driver littered out the window, gaining speed.
Move! He shouted in his mind, you’re going to die!
He felt the wind through his aged hair as the truck passed right through him.
The truck hummed a noisy tune as the man turned around, puzzled as why he was not exterminated. Nonetheless, grateful, he continued to follow the paper crane.
The crane stopped at a corner store that seemed to sell candy and other junk food for kids and alike, but was closed. The crane stopped at a place with a small park, where children played, that is before night settles in. This leads us to see, the very fact that it is 11:55 PM.
A child post due his bedtime. Blond locks framed his amiable face as he sat patiently on the swing set, rocking back and forth.
Jiraiya hid behind a tree, hoping not to be noticed for that is, Uzumaki Naruto.
He wondered of why the Uzumaki child was at the park at this late hour. Determined to find out, he walked over to the child.
The child, clad in a petite black t shirt with a swirl and jean shorts paid no heed to the man walking towards him. Instead, his blue eyes, the only thing of color in this world, gazed at the clock tower longingly and sighed.
“Hey brat, isn’t it past your bedtime?” Jiraiya commented, breaking the silence of the city.
He got no response; it was almost as if he didn’t exist. Jiraiya waved his hands frantically in front of the child’s face—no response.
A man almost identical to Naruto’s face showed up. He was much older, his eyes showed more wisdom.
“Sorry I’m late Naruto-kun!” he called out.
The child jumped off the swings haughtily, “you better be, old man!”
“Manners, Naruto-kun, where did you learn that phrase?” he scolded the child gently.
“That man in the car, over there,” little Naruto pointed to a black runned down car. The man inside the car was camouflaged into the darkness.
“Don’t talk to strangers,” he reprimanded seriously.
“Okay, daddy. Can we play today?”
The man glanced at the clock tower that read 11:58 PM.
“How about tomorrow?” he suggested, “it’s getting late and I’m sure you would want some dinner.”
“Ramen!” the boy decided.
“Alright, ramen it is,” the man smiled, “I know of a place, Ichiraku’s. I’m sure you’ll love it.”
“You should carry me and buy me lots and lots of toys!” The child’s face lit up in paradise.
“We’ll see,” he smiled as they walked out of the park hand in hand.
Jiraiya smiled at the father and son that complimented each other so beautifully.
“There are millions of planets out there; circling millions of suns, circling millions of galaxies, circling one point in the universe,” he swirled his fingers around to the little boy for dramatic effect, “and that point is not you. Remember that Naruto. The world is a bad place but you’ll be fine. I’m sure of it.”
“What are galaxies?” the boy asked, confused as they crossed the street. It was a green light.
“They are…”
Jiraiya watched as the two interacted. The both of them failed to notice the black runned down car, speeding their way.
“Watch out!” Jiraiya shouted as he ran towards the two.
No one heard him.
“Out of the way!” the driver spat.
With instinct, the father shoved the young boy out of the way, pushing him onto the sidewalk, saving the child.
The driver drove faster, ignoring the fallen blond. Jiraiya saw a glimpse of long black hair through the car window but he wasn’t so sure.
The blond man, Naruto’s father laid there on the streets as the blood gushed out of him.
“Daddy…” Naruto shook the man gently, “Daddy, wake up.”
He broke out into a sob, “Please daddy, I need you…”
The bells chimed—midnight.
The colors warped together, and formed a new scene—a funeral.
People shot Naruto hateful glares; this was the last mourning for the man that had saved his life. They loathed him; they believed that he stole the life of a very love man.
Jiraiya stood there, next to the coffin, gazing at his ex-pupil’s lifeless form.
It simply couldn’t be, he thought. This must be a dream.
But it couldn’t be.
The crane from before landed on his hand as he cupped it.
The scene began to change again—the house where he was before.
It was Itachi and his brother, Sasuke.
It is not the present time, Jiraiya concluded.
The duo looked older by a few years, one might even say four.
“Welcome,” Itachi spoke as he heard the bells chime.
“Hello,” Naruto spoke.
The crane that was cupped into his hands unfolded into a square piece of paper.
Jiraiya exhaled a deep breathe and saw Itachi’s mesmerizing red eyes once more.
He was back into the present time, the year 2003.
“Your payment is received,” Itachi spoke as he motioned towards the cat on the floor, reading a script.
“But I have to see more!” Jiraiya spluttered frantically. He crumpled the piece of crane paper in his hands.
“It is not the will of god, Jiraiya-san,” he monotonously responded.
“I should leave,” Jiraiya said.
“If you insist, good day.”
The door was shut.
Kakashi mewled in delight as Sasuke scratched his belly.
Sasuke was now sixteen.
Kakashi was ageless at a ripe age of twenty seven.
The bells chimed.
Itachi exited the kitchen with the tea.
“Welcome,” he spoke.
“Hello,” a blond teen saluted. He took off his white laced in black canvas shoes. A baseball cap hugged his head, dressed in simple attire: t shirt and jeans.