Disclaimer: Do not own
In all his life, Naruto had never been hard to approach
In all his life, Naruto had never been hard to approach. Despite the sad excuse of a childhood that he had had, he never found the desire to lock himself in a sphere of isolation. He had – to put it all in a nutshell – never wanted to be left alone, because he had always been left alone. It was the simple 'people-don't-appreciate-the-things-that-they-have-until-they-lost-it'. He had accused Sasuke of it – of not appreciating the friendships thrown at him; the attention that he got; the respect of the villagers – but never once did he thought that the same advice would apply to him just as well.
He never thought that he would miss the solitude that he once had.
He had thought that those silent days would have been enough to last him for a lifetime.
He was wrong.
Now – today – this very moment – this very second, he wanted silence and solitude and isolation. He wanted it all back. He did not want Kiba's fake cheer or Konohamaru's indication that he understood what Naruto was going through. He did not want those flowers that Ino had taken to giving him whenever he walked past her shop; nor did he want Iruka's concerned stare. He did not want Neji's silent comfort or Shikamaru's awkward "Troublesome"s, or Chouji's numerous invitations to Ichiraku.
But most of all, he did not want Kakashi or Yamato or Sakura or Sai to see him in his state of dejection. As far as Naruto was concerned, only two persons were ever allowed to see him during his weakest state, and both were gone. One had long ago betrayed him for power. The other one – the other one whom he had relied so much on – had betrayed his promise.
Naruto tightened his arms around his knees and brought them closer to his chest as he made himself comfortable against an oak tree. It did not matter that he was dripping wet and his clothes stuck to his body like a second layer of orange-black synthetic skin. A certain white head would have called that his 'lost child' posture, but –
– but what he thought no longer mattered. Because he was now just another name on the memorial stone. Naruto could see it so very clearly. He was not sure if it was because the old man's name was newly crafted in just that evening; or if it was because his heart hurt so much and his emotional attachment to the man was so strong that it caused his senses to be extra perceptive towards anything that had to do with him.
Naruto took a deep breath and filled his nostrils with the smell of rain and grass, and pushed his face into the folds between his arms.
He finally understood Sasuke's hatred. The dark, brewing, storming, growing intent in him that urged him to find the person who had sent his no-longer-invincible mentor to his separation with his apprentice. He hated Tsunade for sending that guy on the mission. He hated him for dying. But more than anything…
He hated himself for not being there to help him. He did not know how he could have helped the man, for he was not even aware of his being sent on the mission, but there was no denying the sentiment that had settled at the base of his stomach.
"I'm sorry for the intrusion. Please excuse me," the blond suddenly broke the patter of the rain with his deeper, scratchier, more subdued voice. He took another deeper breath, and this time detected Kakashi's faint scent together with the usual grass and rain. Copy nin watched knucklehead nin get to his feet in silence; watched the latter lick his pale lips; watched him walk away…and did nothing. Only when Naruto had left did Kakashi move to take the blond's previous seat.
The flash of silver head tilted up to watch to sky and collect raindrops on his masked face.
The cycle is complete now. He had acquired…and he had lost. He is ready.
.
"Tsunade-sama…" Shizune was wary when addressing her former shishou. A gust of wind blew in hard from the open window, and it filled the office with fresh rain smell. Tsunade sat dispassionately from the window sill – did not even acknowledge her assistant's call. Dangling precariously from her long, adept fingers, a sake bottle swung to and fro fearlessly. Shizune wondered absently if the bottle was empty or half full; Tsunade had an amazing speed when it came to consuming sake. Pretty much like Naruto and his ramen.
She wondered if she should bring in another few bottles.
"Tsunade-sama," Shizune started again, her voice firmer and less shaky. Maybe the Hokage will recover faster if she ignored all the signs of depression. But then again…Shizune would then be walking on the path of denial. Not what she believed in. She had always confronted her fears and worries tactfully, mind you; not recklessly, like Uzumaki.
But how should she go about solving this then? It was, perhaps, one of the biggest blow to ever hit the Fifth, especially after she had lost so many of her loved ones.
"Tsunade-sama, I'm not going to give you more sake if you continue to ignore me like this, alright? You've got lots of paperwork more to do – and – "
"And do I look like I care?" the Fifth growled. Her voice was deep, and it sounded a little slurred, but the amber eyes that shifted around to deadpan at her was focused and sharp, even a little accusing. As if blaming her for the disruption in the peace of the office. The swinging stopped, and she was only holding the sake bottle up with her thumb and forefingers. Shizune suddenly felt a compulsion to yell out frantically and save the bottle before it slipped from the careless fingers.
"Well, like hell I care about what you care."
If one day Shizune had to reflect back on her life and select one of the funniest moments in her life that she could recall, this is what she would say: "There was this once when I opened my mouth to speak, thinking that it would sound like my normal, more feminine voice, but instead it turned into a deeper, grate-y, more arrogant voice."
So, yes.
Both women's sight shifted to look at the newcomer who had entered without knocking and caught sight of flashing blue eyes. Almost immediately, Shizune swivelled back to stare at her former sensei, and noticed a shift of colour in the elder woman's eyes. Darker – more melancholic – quieter.
Tsunade lowered her head and glanced back out at the busy, uncaring village. Naruto stomped up to the older woman.
"Baa-chan!" he whined, crossing his arms in front of his chest and frowning once more. Tsunade graced him with a brief glance and a shake of the sake bottle before looking out again. For a while they remained like that, bathed in silence and the dying sunlight.
"Shizune-nee, can baa-chan be excused for today? Only today?" Naruto broke it first with a throat-clearing growl, and then his question. It was such a strange one that even impassive Tsunade turned over to look at him as well. Shizune, however, was totally bewildered. Naruto was talking to him as if she was her shishou's master! This is a very difficult situation that the young boy had set her in.
On one hand, she had the Fifth whom she swore her loyalty to. On the other hand was a boy whom Tsunade adored and cared, and had told her that it would be just a matter of time before Naruto takes over her place.
"Uh,"
"Please, baa-chan?" Pause. "Please?" and all of a sudden, Naruto's stern blue eyes looked watery and lost and uncertain. Like a small little child astray in a forest. It must have moved Tsunade's maternal instincts, because after that, she waved her sake bottle a little and made a wild motion, saying, "I will not be in the office for today. No visitors."
And the both of them were gone in a blur, just like that.
.
Tsunade leaned back against the old, worn sofa and looked around the dim living hall. Sharp eyes took everything in – from the thick line of dust on the windowsill to the strange ticking sound of the clock although it did not seem to be working.
She crossed her legs, hitting it on the underside of the low coffee table. A light curse, a frown, a rub at her bruised knee, a pair of legs stretched out on the table; and she was back to taking in the atmosphere of the room. She had never really been in Naruto's house before. A sweeping glance in when she came over to call him out for dinners or just to bother him for the heck of it – yes, but really come in and sit and look – never once.
A loud clank from the kitchen brought her wandering gaze to the direction leading to said place.
"Gaki," she called out numbly, ready to stand forth and help if needed.
"It's fine. I'll be out in a sec," the slightly muffled voice sounded irritated, but in control of the situation. The blond Hokage shrugged to herself and eased back into the lumpy seat. Again she frowned. Did the boy not have enough money to get himself new furniture? That bad? If she remembered correctly, she did not abuse him financial-wise. In fact, in a lot of cases, she paid him extra – out of her own pocket.
Yes, she adored him that much.
Where did it all go then? Ramen? She would not put it past him; that guy could do just about anything when it came to his favourite food. But then again, it could have been Ji –
It could had been. No longer present tense.
"Ba-chan."
Tsunade blinked and raised her tilted head. As painful as it felt to move even a single muscle, she nudged her head once, silently regarding the sight of Naruto with a tray of something. He replied with a raised eyebrow and glared pointedly at the "unsavoury" sight on his table. Tsunade rolled her eyes and straightened herself.
"What the hell are you doing?" she questioned, mind blanking at the sight of the equipments brought out. She knew what the utensils were, what were their usages, and she knew exactly how much they cost. Her methodical mind did a long jump and went back to Naruto's wages. Maybe this was where the kid spent his money on.
When had he acquired such a posh taste, I wonder? Did Neji or Hinata influence –
"Brewing coffee. Do you like coffee?" Naruto asked offhandedly. His fingers, normally calloused and clumsy, flitted with sudden grace from one surface to another.
Two practical, brown, porcelain cup.
An equally practical, brown, porcelain bowl.
A traditional coffee press – pretty, dainty, warm.
The calculative weighing scale.
The pure, white, addictive glucose drug.
Picking them up from the tray and setting them down on the table, he gazed at Tsunade, blue eyes steady and unclouded.
Waited.
Then he stood up and smiled the smile that Tsunade had always associated with the boy's hidden maturity.
"Just a moment. The water's already boiling – all we need to do is to grind the coffee beans, brew them, and we can have a good cup of coffee. That's where I need your help," the blond's smile widened into his flashy grin, and he stalked off before Tsunade could even say anything.
What the hell is going on? She did not want to drink coffee. She wanted sake – she wanted to mourn the old fool of a friend – she wanted to go back to her office and sit beside the window and dangle sake bottles precariously that could give Shizune heart attacks. She –
Naruto reappeared noisily with a small, whistling kettle in one hand, and a black, dull, airtight container. Again he smiled his mature smile as he placed the two items on the table.
"Naruto, I – "
"Bear with me, baa-chan. Just for once."
"I've done that more than once."
Naruto paused in his opening the cover of the coffee press. When he looked up, he was all ready with his endearing little pout. His fingers remained busy, moving from the coffee press to the black container. Fingers curled around the thinner neck of the bottle, and he twisted the cap so that it stayed loose at the opening, all the moment watching and pouting at his enigmatic leader.
Suddenly wiping all emotions from his face, he poured dark, brown, smoky beans onto the weighing scale. Pulling the scale towards him, he leant back and scrunched his nose in mock concentration.
He frowned even further as he picked the weighing dish and poured some of it back into the can. He did it a few more times, tipping the scale to drop black round things into the container, and from the container into the scale – striving to reach a kind of perfection that only he himself knew about.
And finally he smiled, grinning at the scale as if praising it for showing him the result he wanted to see.
Then he slowly reached over and took hold of her reluctant wrist with one hand while the other clutched on to the bottle.
"What the hell do you want, Naruto? If it is not important, I don't see why I should stay in this place any longer," Tsunade's voice was stern as she glared at the boy in front of her. Despite that, she never removed her hand that lay loosely in Naruto's grip. She loved him. Loved him like any mother would love her child. Even more now. Naruto is the main person holding her sanity now. Any more deaths, and she would break and never recover.
Especially Naruto. The golden child who smiled at him – the child that will always be a child no matter when.
"Baa-chan, help me grind them, please," the blond slowly turned her hand palm-up and proceeded to pour dark beans onto it. Sweet, bitter aromatic scent rose into the air and jabbed her nose viciously as she frowned and looked down at her arm. Just as she suspected.
Coffee beans.
"Please, baa-chan," said he as he screwed back the cap onto the container.
It was strange how one would actually listen to him when he changes his tone of voice. Everyone was so used to Naruto's happy-go-lucky attitude that the very moment he reverts to a more contemplative, quieter side, they know that it is time to give the boy some time and pay attention. Tsunade was no exception. Although she understood from experience and observation that Naruto was never only one-sided, she always took the change as a cue of solemnity from him.
"Don't grind it too finely, though. We're using the coffee press – it's gotta be coarse."
Pulling her filled hand away, she easily flicked her arm over, pressed a little, and released her crushed prisoners into the empty bowl that was earlier brought out. The blond boy in front of her smiled, his face gentle as a dove. But the sparkling blue eyes that she was so accustomed to seeing was tenderly hurt and spoke of betrayal.
"Thank you!"
Again, the small, musical note of suppressed treachery in his voice and his eyes, but it only flashed through briefly like Jupiter and his chariot in the sky. Naruto is a good actor.
Tsunade merely watched without any comments. Naruto had sought her out; if need be, they shall drown together. In meantime, she be patient, and shall observe how the blond child went about his preparation.
He dumped everything from the bowl into the coffee press without hesitation – peeking in once in a while and lightly shaking it as if to make sure that the beans did not disappear into some black hole void that resided in the darkness of the press. Still on his knees, he set the bowl down and took hold of the kettle. Glancing briefly at the thermometer on the side, he shrugged.
"Man, I sure am getting better at this," he said with a sudden air of pomposity as he poured close-to-boiling water into the same dark void.
"Don't be so crude and cocky, gaki," Tsunade could not help but to jab at his statement. Naruto ignored her and concentrated on draining water from the kettle into the press. He stopped at a certain level, placed the kettle down, and closed the lid of the press.
Then he sat back, fully on the floor, and stared at his guest.
"Arabian Mocha Sanani. Coarsely grinded. Brewed with coffee press. 40 grams of bean, 720 millilitres of water at 90C to 96C – enough for two cups."
Tsunade merely stared back. The atmosphere in the room was getting darker, lonelier – and the look in Naruto's eyes seemed more and more prominent with the growing darkness of his living hall. His back was no longer strong and straight. He slouched despite his attention given to the blond woman. His fingers played with one another.
It was so, so…silent.
The two worn souls stared at each other, not speaking but yet understanding everything that was going on in their companion's mind.
"Did you know…that his favourite drink was not really sake?" Naruto's tone was so light, so quiet that if Tsunade were not paying him notice she would not have heard him. She blinked, vision suddenly blurring. The blond in front of her phased in and out of her eyesight, clearing every time she closed her eyes, but quickly hazing into a blur of black, orange, and yellow once more. She saw yellow blob nod.
"He drank it like crazy because you drank it."
Tsunade had to clench her fists so hard to hold back to choke that was growing at the base of her throat.
"What he really liked was coffee. Brewed correctly and well. Especially this kind. This one that I had made just now."
The first tear rolled down from honey orbs, even as she blinked and fought so hard to keep the moisture behind her lids.
"I know. Because he trained me to be his barista."
It was Naruto's turn to watch – looking on as his Hokage suddenly seemed so old and tired. Getting back onto his knees but never once looking away from the silently crying leader, he picked the coffee press up, pushed himself a little further, and quickly but quietly filled both the porcelain cups. After that, he abandoned the press, took up a cup, went over the table and took a seat beside the old friend and team-mate of his mentor. Who were soon becoming his own friend and mentor.
Pushed the cup of warm beverage into her shaking hands.
Reached up and wiped her tears.
"'Move on.' Jiraiya would say that."
The string holding the door of the dam snapped at last with the mention of the name that they had tried so hard to avoid saying, and Tsunade the Hokage of Konohagakure was no more. She choked on her first sob – second – and did not bother smothering the rest of her desperation. Her hands shook even harder when she brought the rapidly cooling beverage up to her lips and sipped. Salty tears fell – fell – fell into the cup of coffee that Naruto had brewed so carefully.
For a while the two of the sat that way. Naruto's own cup of coffee sat on the table, waiting forlornly as his twin was consumed. For a moment the younger blond's mind wandered. What would run through his cup of coffee's brain if it is alive?
"Kami-sama – I will be consumed!"?
"Hurry up, damnit! I won't lose to my stupid excuse of a twin!"?
Then he blinked, and he was back in reality, where he had an older woman sitting beside him and sobbing for a man whom she cared about, and whom he cared about too.
What to do? What to do?
"Enjoy yourself…Hokage-sama," Naruto's voice was void of emotions. Like Sabakku no Gaara's.
He stood up as carefully and as quietly as he could, and made his way towards his door. Stopping for a moment to put on his shoes, Naruto straightened up and threw a brief backward glance.
"If you like the taste of this coffee bean, help yourself. I'm not too fond of it."
The doorknob twisted cruelly; door opened and creaked; Naruto was no longer in the room.
.
That night, Uzumaki Naruto came home at three in the morning to find his coffee table cleared and a stack of papers on it. Curiosity blaring through his being for a moment, he took a step towards it and glanced down.
That night, Uzumaki Naruto finally mourned for Chimaru Jiraiya and cried himself to sleep.
Outside, in his hall, a note clipped together with the thick stack of papers fluttered in the inexistent breeze.
"The Chronicles of
Uzumaki Naruto"