ooOO Ganbare OOoo

Uzumaki Naruto was exhausted, on the verge of collapse really. After defeating Pein and making that memorial, his chakra was next to none; he could barely even hear the fox, as though it too was drained. His feet felt as though they were made of lead, and every so often black blooms of exhaustion entered the edge of his vision, and he had to rest against one of the trees to gain his bearings. Anyone else and he would have been dead long before now. Still, he ploughed on, determined as his nindo to reach Konoha, to check on everything, . . . on everyone.

Guilt flooded his soul, making his body feel even heavier. If only he had been there sooner, if only he wasn't a jinchurriki, if only . . . well, there were a lot of 'if's. The recent exchange with his sibling disciple had made him even more worried. True, everything had worked out okay, but if the 7th Pein hadn't decided to revive the fallen, Naruto would be burying a lot of his nakama, something he never wanted to experience. The possibility made his heart clench.

A pain in his side made Naruto glance down . . . the wound from where Pein had stabbed him in the stomach still hadn't healed; apparently, his chakra was too low for his regeneration abilities or that bastard fox was still sulking in his cage. He pressed on it, with a slight hiss, to slow the bleeding, then continued on.

"You should really rest, Naruto-sama."

Naruto turned his head slightly to where a slug peeped out of his turtleneck. The he shook his head, both in the negative and to get the black dots out of his eyes. "Not yet . . . I'm only a few miles away." The slug radiated as much displeasure as Tsunade would toward a patient, but reluctantly agreed, realizing the futility of her inquiry.

He paused, for a brief moment, leaning his full weight upon a tree trunk, breathing heavily and falling to his knees. It was getting worse now. However, through his dulled senses, even as he struggled to rise, some instinct, some gut feeling that had kept him alive in the shinobi world this long, made him turn his head quickly to the side, . . . then duck just as quickly, when a kunai flew straight over his head. He dropped to the ground with a thud, using the tree to support his back as he glared at his sudden opponents. Blue eyes took in three shinobi and even through the hazy, shaking field of vision, he could make out Konoha forehead protectors tied upon their arms, and ANBU-style masks covering their faces: a wolf, a tiger, and a monkey.

Betrayal, distrust, shock . . . a swift wave of emotion pulled through Naruto, like a wrenching through his gut, before he disregarded the turmoil with a practiced ease that would have made Ibiki green with envy. Steadying his labored breathing, he looked them all straight in the eye, making them almost flinch, and kept his shoulders square. Betray nothing, take everything.

"Who are you?"

Suddenly one of them, the wolf he thought, snapped gloved fingers and 20 more shinobi, missing nin by the slash of their hit-tai, dropped down from the treetops with the sound of fallen leaves, Naruto realizing how deep in danger he was, just as the slug in his shirt disappeared with a soft smoke puff.

xxXXxx

A breath before the battle,

The calm before the storm,

the tensing of muscles before the leap of wolves upon the prey

The ex-ANBU stepped forward, the missing nins waiting at her back with the gleaming eyes of predators.

"Why do you struggle so, what makes you so determined to survive?"

"Not . . . just survive . . . but to live."

"What do you mean?"

"If it was just for surviving, it wouldn't be so hard. No . . . I wanna live."

"Why?"

Blue eyes met brown with a raised eyebrow, and brown-eyes, partially hidden beneath a mask, realized just how foolish that question sounded.

"Don't you too have a reason for living? Doesn't everyone? Am I to be denied such a basic wish simply because of something out of my control?"

"Yes . . . you don't deserve to live . . . you're a monster."

Eyes closed for a second as he breathed in the hate and prejudice, the dark memories that sprung from such a declaration, such a word, before he exhaled, a sigh of sad acceptance.

"Am I? Well, even monsters can determine their own existence, right?"

". . . . Do you hate them?" Do you hate me?

"No."

"Why not? After everything that's happened . . . "

Eyes opened, not looking at her, but looking at the blue sky, the sun shining through the leaves overhead. They were clouded, as though lost in some memory. "Because he begged me . . ."

"Who? Who begged you?"

"Jiji . . . The Sandaime . . . Sarutobi Hiruzen . . . he begged me, he begged me, of all people. I couldn't believe it."

A man, one of the oldest that the 5-year-old blond boy had ever seen, came into his hospital room. He had just had another one of his 'accidents' and was recovering.

Blue eyes, distrustful of anyone older than his own age, watched the old one warily as he walked in. Even as young as he was, the blond youth could feel the authority and power rolling off of this stranger with the hat. He also contained a rather grandfatherly smile that was to put the boy at ease, he guessed, though it didn't work. He'd seen far too much of human nature to trust past their masks of sincerity.

"What do you want?" he growled angrily at the old man and as deeply as he could, trying to scare or deter him away. He was alone, always alone, would always be alone . . . that was truth, after all. Company usually brought pain.

The old man, the stranger with the hat, the one with enough authority and power to probably crush him, smiled again, a bit softly and sadly. "Hello. My name is Sarutobi Hiruzen. I am the Sandaime Hokage of this Village."

Blue eyes widened, before narrowing distrustfully. He was young but he knew who the Hokage was. "Am I to be kicked out?" A brief wave of sadness bordering on despair settled in the blond's stomach. First the orphanage, now the village . . . why?

The Hokage's (if he was Hokage; he seemed far too less intimidating to be) smile slowly disappeared, and for a second, the old man, (and that is his name for him now on), appeared very distressed at the question.

For some reason, blue-eyes wanted to comfort him. So he crossed his arms, huffing, and looked outside the window, where the sun shone upon a Village that apparently no longer wanted him. "It's okay, ya'know. I'll leave . . . if I'm not wanted here. I just . . . I don't know where to go. But don't worry, I won't put up a fight or anything." The last few words were said with such a defeated undertone that the old man visibly winced.

"You're not being kicked out, Naruto."

The boy's neck snapped up so quickly, he was sure he heard it crack. "What?"

The old man, surprised by the injured boy's reaction, cleared his throat. "You're not being . . . "

"No, I heard you the first time. . . . What did you call me after that?"

There was a pause. "Naruto . . . that is your name, you know."

Haunted blue eyes flickered with a innocent curiosity that had been absent previously, before looking down again. His tongue fumbled over the syllables as only a child could, but he did them with a fascination that was truly a pleasure to watch for the old man. "Na-Ru-To. Naruto. Naruto . . . huh." He cocked his head to the side in a rather curious expression, looking like one of Kakaishi's dog summons, then he bowed, his blond spikes bouncing upon his head. "Thank you . . . for calling me by name. It's been a while since anyone has."

The old man's face was again filled with a very distressed and saddened expression before he too bowed. "No, it is I who should thank you."

Again that curious expression filled the blond's face, but the old man, burdened by the harsh decisions of a leader and bowed in front of the sacrifice of one, could not see it. So focused was he upon this moment. "In fact, I came here to ask something of you, Uzumaki Naruto." The blond boy watched as the old man, with the weight of an entire village upon his shoulders, bowed all the way to the ground, creaking knees folding underneath him. Slowly he placed the Hokage hat upon the ground in front of him as well.

Tense silence reigned, and the young blond boy knew that this moment was precious and private, something not to be forgotten or interrupted. So he folded his arms upon his chest and waited.

"I beg of you . . . not as a Hokage of this Village, not even as a shinobi, but simply as an old man, a fellow Villager of the Leaf, please, please, don't hate them." The tone in the older man's voice was laced with a pleading emotion and for some reason the blond knew who he was talking about. "Don't hate them . . . Hate can consume you, hurt you, weigh you down, and eventually force you into a darkness that you cannot force your way out of . . . this is for your sake as much as theirs. Resent them, envy them, pity them for their shallowness, but never hate. Please."

The realization of the importance in this man's speech dawned on the little boy. Here he was, broken and scarred by his fellow Villagers, an orphan with no social standing, with no family or even friends, and the Hokage, the strongest and most important member of the Village, was bowing to him . . . him of all people. The awe of it, the plea, nearly overwhelmed him. "You love them."

It was a statement that required no answer, but the bowed old man gave one anyways. "I do . . . truly, I do. Despite their misgivings, their short-sightedness, they can be great."

The blond nodded, not fully understanding but not needing to either. Love was something that escaped him, a feeling that he had no recollection of and had previously thought of as a worthless emotion, not necessary for a 'monster' as he was often called. And yet, something like that could make this man bow to him. Suddenly, he was filled with this yearning to understand how it worked, how 'love' could capture even the most powerful of shinobi. Maybe he could make the other villagers also feel this way toward him.

How to do that though? To him, a simple child, the solution was evident. Become Hokage. He had to be the most loved person of the Village.

Grinning in a way that would become his trademark, Naruto slid off his hospital bed, careful not to disturb his patched-up body too much, and walked to where the old man and his hat knelt. Slowly, with the chubby fingers of a child and blue eyes, filled with a determination that would later crush any opponents who stood in his way, he knelt and picked up the Hokage's hat, putting it carefully upon his head. Then with an even softer yet mischievous touch he patted the old man's head, who looked up as though surprised by the contact.

The Sandaime's face, creased with age, worry, and burden, softened at the sight of the blond child, grinning mischievously underneath the Hokage hat. "Old man . . . mind if I call you Jiji?"

A flash of another blond, blue-eyed face, asking the same question, fluttered before the old man's eyes before he shook his head, dumbly.

Naruto grinned again. "Good. Jiji," and at this, blue eyes met brown ones with a seriousness you would not expect in a child, "I will become Hokage. I will make them great . . . I'll be the best Hokage this Village has ever known!"

The little one pumped his fist into the air excitedly, before wincing at his still healing wounds, making the old man chuckle at his antics. Naruto glared at the chuckle, before huffing contentedly. "Should you really be kneeling anyway, old man?"

Slowly, with the help of the child next to him, the old man rose off his knees and took the hat from the blond with a smile, placing it on his own head with a sudden pride that hadn't been there before. "And until then, I'll keep it warm for you. Thank you, Naruto." He ruffled the boy's blond spikes affectionately.

His answering smile was bright enough to dash all doubts from the Professor's mind. "Of course, Jiji. After all, no Hokage could possibly hate the village he loves, right?"

"Wow, . . . the Hokage, eh?"

"Yeah."

"And you haven't hated since then? Not even now?"

"Not true hate, not like those I've seen or fought against."

"Hmm, really? No matter what they did to you?"

Blue eyes met hers again, cleared of the cloud of memory, and focused on the now. "Yes."

"What about what happened at the Valley?"

Shoulders tensed and skin went pale at the mention of something rather haunting. "Wha . . . how do you know about that?"

"You died, killed by the very friend you were trying to save. How did that feel?" The voice was mocking now, challenging.

". . . " Silence met her in response.

"What about when you faced Pein just now, the very shinobi that killed your master, your sibling disciple?"

". . . " Still silence. A kunai whirled through the air, piercing itself into the blond's shoulder. A grunt and steely blue-eyed glare was what she got in response.

"I highly advise you keep answering my questions, Naruto-kun. It is what's keeping you alive, after all."

" . . . Why do you want to know anyway? What do you care?"

"Doesn't matter. How did it feel? The betrayal, the pain . . . how could you not hate them?"

"Because . . . I hated myself too much. For my weakness, at letting Sasuke go, at allowing Pein to kill Ero-Sennin, for not being there . . . ."

"So you do feel hate?"

"Of course."

"Then why did you let Sasuke kill you? Why let Pein stab you in the stomach?"

"To prove a point?"

"Not an answer."

"To protect the other shinobi . . . to bring peace."

"Still not an answer."

Blue eyes narrowed. "Why ask all these questions?"

A shrug. "Curiosity."

Mocking blue-eyes and a smirk made their way acoss a whiskered face. "Not an answer." Another kunai flew, this one awfully close to his already wounded side. Another grunt of pain escaped his bloody lips and blue eyes glared again in pain and daring.

"Where does it come from . . . this defiance?"

This time it was his turn to shrug. "Dunno . . . instinct, I guess."

"Instinct?"

"Yeah, ya know, that gut feeling when you're attacking or running, or protecting . . . that's instinct."

"I know what it is . . . Really? That's it?"

"Well, other things too, but mostly that."

"What other things?"

". . . them, my precious people, . . . them."

"What else?"

"My nindo, my promises, my burdens, . . . my dream. That's about it."

". . . so for yourself mostly?"

"Yeah."

"A bit selfish, eh?"

"No."

"No?"

"No, . . . if I had been selfish, I would have died long ago . . . I'm so tired." Let me sleep, let me rest, take away these chains, this thing inside me . . . please?

"Then why still stand?"

"Because they are holding me up, their voices still call out, even now they call my name."

"Your precious people?"

"No . . . those who came before . . . those who have yet to be . . . I hear them so vividly."

"Who?"

He closed his eyes slowly, and suddenly a jumble of names, all alphabetical and listed, flew from his mouth, like a torrent of soft rain, like the thousand caresses of a lover. She opened her mouth to interrupt, to ask . . . until she realized exactly what he was saying . . . who he was naming. It went on for a while until finally he stopped. Her intake of breath from behind that wolf mask was all he needed to know that he had thoroughly shocked her.

"The Memorial Stone? You memorized all of the names from the Memorial Stone? . . . why?"

He shrugged; it was the first time he had ever revealed it, the weight upon his soul, the reminder he carried with him.

"When did you . . .?" She let the question drop as the magnitude of such a task overwhelmed her.

"After I found out about the Fox-teme, we had a week between the graduation and our team assignments. I used that time to memorize those names," he paused here and smiled softly. "I thought that I should at least know for whom I was suffering the hate of the villagers, so that I could recognize their losses, so that I could grieve with them as well . . . not that they would accept the condolances of the demon brat."

She still kept silent, amazed at what she had just heard. Only the soft movement of the wind interrupted his shallow, pained breathing.

"What are they saying to you, if you hear them so clearly? Why you?"

". . . "

"Why you?"

". . . Peace . . . they call for peace."

"For them?"

"No, for those they left behind. They want me to save them from their demons, from their own destruction."

". . . Can you do it?" Can you save me?

"Yes." I'll save you, if you let me.

xxXXxx

The shinobi, those who had followed, those who had heard, who had been waiting for him (the hero becomes the victor) to return, who had learnt from the slugs of the sudden interruption of their reunion, now listened to the blond's interrogation with a rapt attention even they didn't recognize, attention that kept them captive and hidden within the leaves still.

They were the younger ones, of his generation (the Rookies, Team Gai, Sai) and of the generation before (The Ino-Shika-Cho trio, several ANBU, Kakaishi-sensei, others), ones who had looked but never really seen.

Before they had found him, searching frantically through a forest of green for that kill-me-now orange, they had felt worn down like never before. The destruction of their home, that brutal razing, had taken its toll upon the Konoha ninja. As they glanced back at the monumentous task of rebuilding, reshaping a Village, without a Hokage to lead them, somehow everything felt against them.

Hearts were growing weary and heavy (Clouds, clouds go away; Come again another day).

Now though . . .

He had suffered that much under them? He had carried so many burdens; even though he was younger than most, inexperienced than most, he still carried a weight the equivolent of any shinobi leader.

Images like golden memories, both sharp and faded, fluttered across their eyes, solidifying the feeling in their minds of this noble youth before them.

/I vow to become Hokage, because that's my dream!/ A boy, no older than those children in the playground, shouts to all who will hear, who cannot help but listen (he is too loud to ignore, to bright to turn away), his ambition . . . his reason for existence.

/I'll never run away!/ A bloodied, battered twelve-year old stands with the grin of what he carries, holding a dusty hit-tai, and stares down an actual Demon, one who had dirtied his hands long before he was the gaki's age.

/I vow to win./ He rises, clenching his fist, smeared in the blood of another (she's hurting, she's hurting, he hurt her), at Fate.

/So stand up and bear it because you're not a loser like me./ Another bloody grin, this one for all to bear witness, proves the weight of a burden far heavier than any Clan seal.

/Until I become Hokage, I will not die./ He stands between their soon-to-be Godaime and an opponent far stronger, far more experienced than he, knowing yet not knowing the outcome.

/I promise I'll bring Sasuke back!/ Betrayed blue-eyes, hurt far more than any but a Slug-Sennin could understand, hide behind a determined smile as he stares at the only family (a sister from a shattered team) he has left.

/I will bring peace . . . I'll end the cycle!/ A teenager's shoulders rise and grow strong, moving proudly down a Path (he chose or was chosen for him).

How long had they been following his back with eyes wide open and waiting breath?

Something's coming . . . something wild yet so sure. The wind had stopped, and the illusion set before this constantly moving and unpredictable ninja, known to always lead you away from what you should really see, was dropping, revealing something incredibly bright (Can you see underneath the underneath?).

Can you believe in it?

Like the whirlpool of his name, he was drawing them in, those leaves caught in the stream, now pausing, now moving, slow then fast. And the sun broke through the trees upon the bloodied, wearied youth, no, man now rising, now standing with his back to them so strong, so proud.

Are you ready?

He grinned at his opponents (only 20 left; make them count), a final savage smile that they had seen before as he faced down demons, as blood dribbled down his chin, as whiskers (scars of a sacrifice long buried) curled up, as his blue eyes pierced through their clouds of doubt like a sunny day, as his voice, as strong and true as rain, rang for all to hear.

Ganbatte!

A/N: In Japanese, Ganbare, I believe, means "Hang in there," "Do your best," or "Wish for clear skies." Ganbatte, however, means "Come on." This little Naruto piece was inspired by the manga one shot Celeste Blue by Sakura Amyuu. However, I am hoping I got the translation and the spelling right. If I didn't, please let me know. Thank you.