Full summary: The Fourth War ended with a deep wound: the shinobi world lost its precious sun. Unbeknowst to them, a half-dead blond boy was found floating in the sea and saved by people from the edge of the world. These people took in this boy, and without knowing who he was, he started a new life on their isolated island. He soon got a family, friends, and learnt to be a blacksmith. He was completely ordinary, and was not in the same time. A scar from his unknown past didn't leave him alone and strange visions haunted him tirelessly. These, along with his unexplainable skills, introduced him to a less peaceful, but darker and bloody path of existence.
And when danger whetted its teeth to devour his life and world, he didn't hesitate to step onto this path.

Hi, I'm remindmeagain, and this is the first chapter of my Naruto and Assassin's Creed crossover fanfiction, Kese. This is my interpretation about what happened after the Fourth Shinobi War in the Naruto World.

Edit: Many thanks to my wonderful Bruh-chan, Narubabe for the cover pic! She has amazing Naruto manga edits, please check out her works on her blog: narubabe , tumblr , com

I split the story into sequences and chapters. The first Sequence is titled 'Welcome, Kese', and contains five unnamed chapters. I'm planning to make this story a looong story. You'll run into a few interesting name, see their pronounciation at the end of the chapter's text.

Important: English isn't my native language, so if you find any mistake, please send me a message about it. The chapters contain coarse language (later implicit and explicit violence and adult themes).

Assassin's Creed and Naruto belong to their respectful owners. I'm also not taking other authors' work. I'm writing this fanfiction because my Id didn't want to sit still on its back. OvO

A little help:

- Text after a dash or between two dashes means somebody's talking. - text written in italic has emphasis. 'Text written like this' means the character is thinking. But when he/she quotes someone else is like the next line.

- "I don't use bold font; don't look for it, please."

Edit: If you prefer talking to be marked with quotation marks instead of dashes:

I started uploading this fic to Archive of Our Own, and the first three (revised) chapters are already available. Unfortunately, I can't paste the link here, but the story runs under the same name and has an even longer description. In a few months, I hope I can catch up to the latest chapter. Stay tuned! OvO

Thanks for reading!

Not a single ninja could have figured out where he had disappeared to or what had happened to him. And certainly they would have never searched for him at the end of the world.

The end of the world was named Silent Island, and for its people, it was another usual windy day. The villagers lived their life, doing what they always did for a living. Some of them were simple fishermen, carpenters, blacksmiths, some of them raised animals, and so on. They did not live a wealthy life, but they had everything they needed, and it was enough for them. There were no nobles or leaders, and if they needed someone to stand for them, they chose from amongst themselves.

The Silent Island itself was quite large, boarded by the Land of Lightning to the west and by the Land of Water to the south. Though, it wasn't large enough and its goods were too simple for those two great countries to conquer it. It wouldn't have worth it, and it was so far from everything, it was truly the end of the world for them. If you went above and glanced down at the island, you could see a pear-shaped oasis in the desert of ocean. The belly of this pear pointed towards south-west, and some of it was lowland, surrounded by hills. The village itself was settled here. It was surrounded by fields, pastures and forests, and a stream flowed near it, supplying its people with clean water. Heading toward north-east, more and more cliffs appeared, until they reached the highest point of the Silent Island: the Mountain of Turul*. Beneath it, among the cliffs was an abbey with a few monks.

So, at the end of the Fourth Shinobi War, it was another usual, windy day on the Silent Island - but it wasn't as quiet as it used to be.

There was something going on in the village, and the same thing was heard in every little house. The previous day, the fishermen found something, or rather someone floating nearby their island. It was an unconscious teenage boy, desperately holding onto a destroyed piece of trunk. His clothes were torn, he had several bruises, cuts and other injuries on his body; but the most serious one was placed on his abdomen. It was a large, circle-shaped wound right around his belly button and it didn't look like a normal wound. It looked like something had been torn from his body.

The fishermen carried him into the nearest house to the docks and sent people for the island's only doctor for help. He was in the abbey on that afternoon, gathering some of the monks' special herbs and discussing their use when the villagers found him. He quickly rushed down from the cliffs along with one of the monks. The two entered the room they kept the stranger in, and hadn't left it until late night. Only the monk came out twice to fetch some of the doctor's equipment, lamp oil and clear water.

They had a hard time. The large wound had got infected from his "journey" across sea. The two made a good job, but they were unsure whether the boy would survive or not. In a few hours his fever got higher, and then he spoke in foreign language (or languages?) in his dreams, sometimes screaming. They had to hold him down when he started kicking during his nightmares. However, his struggles slowly ceased and he calmed down. It was the third day after they had found him.

Another two days passed before he first woke up. He muttered something unrecognizable, then drifted back into unconsciousness. A few hours later he opened his eyes again, slowly looking around with foggy vision, trying to focus his attention on the incoming doctor. He was glad he found him awake, and immediately asked him how he felt. He thought he would be able communicate in Elemental, the continent's language, which was used by the Elemental Nations and every ninja. However, the stranger couldn't speak properly, and at first the doctor thought it was due to his state. But later he realized his patient just wasn't able to discriminate languages he knew! The boy spoke a mixture of them, using several different, unrelated ones at the same time. He seemed like he didn't know which one he should use. Despite of this, he did understand what he was told.

'That was a rough start…' the doctor thought while examining the largest wound, which was healing well. He caught his patient examining his left hand, especially his fingers. – Is something wrong? – he asked. The other shook his head, then laid down his palm next to his body. After that, while his bandages got changed, the stranger seemed to be brooding over something. – So… What's your name? – the doc asked him on his mother tongue, forgetting about their previous problem.

His patient gave him a strange look. His articulated, mixture-like answer surprised the other man. – I… was thinking of… the very same… question.

- You heal well, Kese*… – the doctor complimented him four days after he first woke up. It was a shock for both of them when he couldn't remember his name, and this situation hadn't changed. The villagers wanted to come up with a name for him, which described him and was easy to memorize. Someone from the fishermen suggested Blondie on the island's language as a sobriquet, but they rejected it. It would fit him well in this village, because nobody had blond hair there but him, and it was weird for them – but, seriously, naming someone, a still stranger young man, Blondie? That was a ridiculous suggestion, and got turned down right away. But it provided another solution for their problem, and so they named him 'Kese', which was one of their ancient names and meant tow-headed in their language. In the end, they kind of named him, a still stranger young man, Blondie. – You can get up if you want, but be very careful!

- I know, I know. – Kese answered, gently tapping on his abdomen. That wound hurt as hell and sometimes it still bled a little. Especially when he tried to sit up by himself. So, to avoid his obstinate attempts, Lehel*, the doctor helped him get up to his feet, and gave him a stick to use as crutch to support him. He was amazed by his patient's physical and verbal progress as well. Kese managed to reduce using different languages at the same time: he was speaking Elemental with almost no difficulties and quickly learning the island's own, called Magor*. However, there still were mistakes, e.g. foreign words or word order left his lips here and there, but as time went on, he was able to slowly distinguish his spoken languages. They could not figure out how on earth he knew so many, grammatically totally different languages, even dead ones. Lehel thought he was an interpreter or a translator, but he found him too young for this occupation and knowing this much; as he was sure the boy was about 16-17 years old, not older.

Kese hissed a little when he slowly stood up, but not because of his wounds. He gently rubbed his forehead, then looked around frowning. His doctor noticed this. – Again?

- Yes. – came his answer. After he first woke up, he started seeing ghost-like people that weren't there physically. He was the only one who saw them, and Lehel immediately started to worry about this when he told him. Maybe his patient had suffered brain damage that could have caused his language problems and visions, but Kese did not show any other ill symptoms. Well, apart from his strange amnesia, that made him forget his own name; and other things, like naming cities and countries that did not exist. Somehow the doctor felt, or rather knew these might be connected. – Uhm… darf ich, erm… may I… ask something?

- Of course.

- Where is my equip… I mean clothes. These… are not mine. – he pointed at his trousers and shirt, having a worried expression. He was ashamed; it took him four days to realize his loss.

- Oh, them… Well, when we found you they weren't in a good condition. They were ragged and torn and bloody, in one word: useless; so… we burnt them. – Kese looked at him with understanding. - But we kept your belongings, at least those which were still with you, and not swept away by the waves.

- What were they?

- Well… - the doc scratched his neck. – Actually nothing. You only had a blank piece of soaked paper in your pockets.

His patient looked down with sadness in his dark eyes. – I see. Could you tell me… about my clothes?

- Yes. You wore a tracksuit. It was orange and black.

- Orange? – he asked dumbfounded, and received a nod. – Are you sure it wasn't white?

Lehel shrugged. – Well, it was almost white because of the salt water, but originally it definitely was orange.

Kese frowned at this. He was sure he usually wore white clothes, at least on his upper body. They might have other colors on them, but not orange, and not almost fully orange. He would find this color uncomfortable on himself. White was somewhat straight, however easy to get dirty. At the moment, he was wearing a long, plain white flax shirt, and he kind of liked it. Its buttons reached from his neck below to his chest and the wrist was embroidered. He also had brown trousers on him, which were so loose he had to tie their strings, or else he wouldn't have them on. And because he was barefoot, he got a pair of slippers-like shoes from Lehel when he stood up. – Okay. Try to walk a little.

He started walking and headed straight towards the door, barely using his staff. – Hey, isn't it a little fast? – he heard the doc yelling from behind, and responded with a simple 'no'. A few more metres and he was outside of the house, taking in the village's sight and enjoying the warmth of midday sunshine. How much he missed this in the past few days: not being locked in a room but out in the free and fresh air, moving around as he wanted. He took a deep breath and could smell salt, earth, trees and the village itself. He looked to the left then to the right and asked. – Where are the people?

- Men are working at their workshops or on the fields, women are taking care of their home, babies and food, or they are out on the fields, too. Their children are playing somewhere near, or learning at home, or at their fathers' workshop. – Kese raised an eyebrow at this. – You know, our boys learn the same occupation as their fathers, and our girls learn how to be mothers and wives. This is neither a restriction nor an obligation: this is just how life goes on here. – Lehel explained as he saw his patient's frown. – If someone wants to learn something different, or wants to break out and leave this place, he can do as he wishes. But in the end they usually return to their home, seeking the peace they grew up in… - he sighed. - I'm sorry, I went too far.

- No problem. – he waved it off, understanding only a little of it. He decided to take a walk, but was stopped, when a smiling woman came across him. She was in her thirties and had some grey in her long, braided brown hair. She carried a large basket full of clothes.

- Good morning, Kese! – she greeted and talked to him in the island's language. – You must heal really fast if Lehel let you come out! How are you feeling?

- I'm fine. – he slightly bowed his head, practicing his Magor. – Thanks for asking, Rozi*.

- If you see my daughter, tell her to come home. And no, she can't stay for five more minutes. – she waved them goodbye then entered the house they had just left. Her husband, Tas* was the blacksmith of the village, and that was his house. Kese had been placed there after Rozi's brother, Csík*, had found him. So beside Lehel, the couple took care of him, and Kese felt the man wasn't really happy about this.

- So… Where was I? – muttered the doc. – Oh yes! I mentioned occupations. Do you know what you have learnt or what kind of work you did?

Kese frowned and closed his eyes; inhaled and let it out. He saw one of his strange visions again. He felt himself running, felt the cold night breeze on his sweaty skin, and something warm and sloppy on his left hand. He heard shouting, and rushing footsteps behind his back.

- You don't need to focus this much… – Lehel's words brought him back to the real world, along with his healer hand placed on his shoulder. – Are you okay?

Kese realized that he was panting and his face paled a little. It wasn't a simple vision, this time he was the center of it, and it felt very… real. – Yes. I just…

- I know. Another one. Let us return to… Hey!

Instead of turning back, his patient went on his way again: towards some loud clapping sound, towards the sound of metal clashing metal. He went to at the back of the house and stopped at the entry of the blacksmith's workshop. Inside of it, amongst his tools and work a muscular man stood, hitting a piece of heated steel with his hammer. He wore brown, dirty clothes, and Kese couldn't see his face, only his wide back and short dark hair. For a minute or two he watched Tas working, and then turned around. – Yes. Let us return.

*Pronounciation (Used IPA2 and IPA2)

Turul: [ 'tᴜrᴜl ]
Kese: [ 'kɛʃɛ ] - like 'keshe'
Lehel: [ 'lɛhɛl ]
Magor: [ 'mɒgor ]
Rozi: [ 'rozɪ ]
Tas: [ tɒʃ ]
Csík: [ tʃiːk ] - like 'cheek'

Chapter updated: 10. 01. 2015.