Second Destiny
A novel by:
A.R. Fredrick
Based on the characters in Naruto,
created by: Masashi Kishimoto
Archive: With Permission Only
Chapter Rating: PG
Disclaimer: "If I owned Naruto, Sakura would be MUCH nicer to him."
Update Schedule: Next Chapter Due 4/22/09.
Prologue: Haunted Leaves
Whispers in the leaves....
He is haunted by whispers in the leaves. Their voices call to him, a sweet siren's song of a long dead past. Their words are carried on the wind, and bring to his ears malignant melodies of better times.
He is old and tired, and knows the fundamental truth of the matter is that he cannot possibly be hearing the voices of long dead friends and comrades, but the voices plague him nonetheless. They haunt his being to its very essence and he can find no solace from their voices, or from the guilt that burdens him.
Whispers in the leaves.....
His sensei had always told him that age brought greater wisdom and understanding. That he would eventually find a clarity of thought, and a peace of mind unrivaled by any that he had experienced in his youth. But he had learned to embrace the bitter truth with the realization that those words were a lie.
All that his age had brought him was senility, and a loss of the vitality that made him who he was. Worse than that, there were times that he felt as if he could no longer trust his own senses. He felt as if they conspired against him with a mind of their own, that he was eternally lost in a world saturated in their trickery.
God... Kami... Buddha... Krishna... He had hoped and prayed that someone would answer his plea, and take the burden that he carried on his shoulders away from him, that he would finally be free of the guilt that held him in chains, and able to move on with life.
Those hopes never saw fruition, much in the same way that his pleas and prayers had fallen on deaf ears. He could not be free to live his life, his chains had been foraged link by link since the days of his childhood, and there was no way he could escape them now. His only hope was to give the past a second chance, and to pray that in doing so he would find his redemption.
Whispers in the leaves....
He had no choice but to move forward now, he knew he would find no solace without sacrifice, and that it was pointless to continue to lament. He took a deep breath, and started to yell. The sound escaped his aged lungs, and reverberated throughout his body, until he could feel his bones hum with the sound of his howl.
It was an unintelligible sound, not meant to convey meaning in words, but in raw unbridled emotion. The scream continued to rise in crescendo with a furor that had not held him in ages. Though he had his eyes closed to the world, he could hear the rustle of wings as birds took flight from the canopy of trees around him, seeking escape from the wild predator that lent his voice to the wind.
After a superfluous amount of time had past, and he had basked long enough in the release that his vocal efforts had provided him, he opened his eyes to the world around him, seeking the owners of voices long dead, and finding none.
The sky was a dark slate, pregnant with thunderheads that promised the impending birth of a storm. The humid air was rich with the smell of ozone, juniper and old charred wood. He could not see the sun, but he could sense that it was at its zenith, high above the clouds. He wished he could feel the warmth of its rays, instead of the wetness of the damp and cloying mist that enveloped him in its suffocating embrace.
He stood high atop the ancient and battered mountain, amused at the thought that he and the geological formation had something in common, they were both scarred, though the scars that he carried were emotional and physical, while the mountain only had those of the latter variety.
Good old King of the Mountain.... Ruler of all that he surveyed... Emperor of a broken dynasty... They had played that game as children upon the very mountain on which he now stood. Back when they had been filled with such mirth the visage below him had been a vibrant and bustling village... The village was now a dull husk of its former self, comprised of dilapidated ruins that have been aged by the elements of nature and the passage of time.
He sighed in weariness, turned his back on the sight he currently beheld and climbed further up the mountain toward the cave in which he camped. He had little time or desire for memories of a past that was long dead, but they plagued his mind like locust and stripped away his thoughts until they were all that remained. As much as he tried to deny it the bitter truth of the matter was that long dead memories were his only companions, he was alone in his quest for redemption. This land was once his homestead, but now he was little more than a pilgrim who had traveled into hostile territory.
The entrance to the cave that he called home was hidden behind a large and thorny blackberry bush, which he had to navigate past carefully to avoid getting poked by one of the wickedly sharp and merciless thorns. He stepped inside and stopped for a few moments near the threshold to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim light, after a sufficient amount of time had passed he proceeded further into the cave, toward a grouping of stalactites that hid a small oil lantern.
The lantern protected a flame that burned dimly, while it rested on the ground. Picking it up by its handle, he used his free hand to turn a small knob near the base of the lantern, thereby increasing the amount of light it gave off. Satisfied that the lantern could hold the shadows at bay he continued deeper into the cave, following the twisting and narrow passageways with ease as he had walked this route several times before.
Originally he had gone outside because nature had called and he found the need to relieve himself, but what should have been a quick and simple task had become more complicated when he had allowed himself to be distracted by his memories and had started wool-gathering about the past.
He finally arrived at the man made chamber where he had made his camp, and sat down upon his futon with a small groan. The accommodations that the cave provided were sorely lacking and while he reminded himself that he wasn't on a trip to the spa, he couldn't help but wish that the atmosphere in the cave wasn't so damp and musty because in truth it was a pathetic place to spend eternity.
His gaze was drawn to the etchings that adorned the walls around him. They were not the writings of some crazed lunatic in an unintelligible gibberish, but were rather symbols and seals formulated into a complex equation that he hoped would allow him the rebirth of a dream.
Some of the symbols were standardized and commonly known Ninja Seals, that he learned in his childhood.
"Ninja Seals are tools that allow us to focus our mind, and use the power of our body, our Chakra, to alter the nature of the world around us to meet our needs...."
The words of his long dead sensei echoed in his mind, while his eyes drifted to other ideograms which were etched upon the walls, symbols that no normal Shinobi would recognize, they were ideograms from an ancient language, copied by scholars long ago and preserved even after the culture that created them failed to survive a natural disaster, and perished as their home continent sunk into the ocean.
Finishing his eerie mural had been no small feat, he had to travel to several different continents to collect the ingredients needed to make the unique ink that the symbols were written in. Recalling the journey he had undertaken made him realize how close he had come to death while collecting each item needed. On the island Ma'wi in the land of Ha'wa'ii he had climbed to the top of a volcano to retrieve what the locals had called a thunder egg. As well as a kilogram of fresh volcanic ash, that he had wrapped in banana leaves in order to maintain the purity of the obsidian substance.
Continuing on, he traveled next to the dense and deadly Amazon jungle, seeking an abundant cache of the purest gold known to exist, in the fabled golden temple of the Quetzalcoatl hidden deep within the ancient forests. Returning to his homeland with these items, he was greeted by a pair of mercenaries he had hired to collect some of the lesser items that he had needed. Quicksilver, wolf's bane, and red jade from the land of Chin. After the mercenaries had delivered the goods to him, he paid for their services by way of the blade. For past crimes they had committed the men deserved death, although he did show them a small mercy by killing them quickly.
After all of the needed ingredients were collected, he began his pilgrimage back to his home. Back to the Land of Fire, and what remained of Konohagakure. The once mighty Hidden Leaf Village was no more, all that remained were ghosts and ashen ruins. The Hokage Mansion, Hokage Monument, and all other areas of the great village had been systematically destroyed and desecrated years ago, as a result of Konohagakure falling during the Fourth Great Shinobi War. The years that followed that incident were spent foolishly, as he descended further into the madness that surrounded him, while he embraced the darkness that resided in his own heart.
It had taken an epiphany to lead him down the road that he currently traveled. He had found a cache of some of his old belongings in a hideout that he used to frequent but which had laid forgotten for years. It was in this cache that he had discovered the remnants of his childhood, which lead him to the memories he now faced.
The symbols, seals, and kanji inscribed on the walls around him, held the key to his fate. He had written them using a special ink that he had created by melting the gold down to a liquid state using the hollowed out shell of the thunder egg as a melting pot for the molten substance, and a Katon Jutsu to heat it to the required temperature. Once he had finished that, he added the volcanic ash and some of the quicksilver to the molten fluid. As the liquid cooled, he used a kunai knife to cut his palm, and added some of his own blood to the mixture. After that had been completed, he used the same kunai knife to carve the red jade into a pencil shape. Using his jade pencil, golden ink and scrolls with the notes he had collected, he spent the next several days etching the ideograms, seals, and kanji into the walls of the cave around him.
He had found ancient references to the Kinjutsu he was about to perform almost a decade ago, and had spent time since then learning as much as he could about the technique and its limitations.
He sighed.
He was getting senile and nostalgic in his old age, he had learned to accept that fact but there was a deeper and darker part of himself that pitied the man he had become. As much as he tried to silence that malignant voice and abort such thoughts from his mind, he was unable to do so.
He turned his gaze away from the wall and shifted in his futon, to the left of him within his reach sat a small table. On that table was a tea set as well as the cold remains of his breakfast. What was left of the rabbit did not look appealing in the slightest, and he was saddened to realize that the creature would indeed be his last meal.
He reached for the tea kettle which was part of the tea set and rested it in his lap, the kettle was already full of water and awaited the leaves that would turn it into a warming brew. His free hand sought the pouch attached to his belt, from that pouch he withdrew a tea bag and placed it into the tea kettle. The bag bobbed on the surface of the water for a moment, before it sank to the bottom.
He then used a simple Katon Jutsu he had learned as a child to heat the kettle and poured himself a cup of the rich brown drink. He placed the tea kettle back onto the small table and eyed his cup of tea in silent contemplation. Steam rose from the cup and he inhaled, it gave off a floral scent which he found intoxicating. The tea was made from jasmine, wolf's bane and other herbs, it was intended to see him off into the afterlife for whatever fate awaited him.
"I cannot undo the mistakes of my past, but perhaps I can give you all another chance. Itadakimasu." He drank the bitter tea in one gulp, and sat the cup aside.
He stood and walked over to the wall which was covered in seals. He reached into the same pouch that he withdrew the tea bag from, and grasped a book. He brought the book to eye-level and stared at it for a few moments. She had given it to him as a gift after he had made the rank of Genin. The book was bound in supple brown leather and held tightly closed by a rawhide cord. She had told him that all great ninja kept a journal and at the time he had shrugged it off but thanked her anyways.
Later he had secretly written in the book to chronicle the events of his life and battles he had overcome, but as his life became consumed with the burden of his goal, he had forgotten it in that dusty hideout of his. Upon discovering it again he had read the words he had once written in innocence, and craved to experience those feelings once more.
But try as he might it was too late for him, so he had continued writing in the tome. It was a chronicle of his errors, and the events that lead to the downfall of Konohagakure. Now he would send it back to himself in hope that reading it during his boyhood might change the man he would become. For all intents and purposes the book was a buoy which he hoped would preserve the life that he had unknowingly loved.
He clasped the book in one old and wrinkled hand while his other free hand searched the pocket of his trousers and grasped the item he was looking for. Without paying it much mind he quickly wrapped it around the journal and tied it in place as a bit of insurance. He set the now wrapped book in the center of a complex pentagram which was drawn into a ledge embedded in the cave wall, and he began forming hand-seals. There were one-hundred and thirty-seven seals in all and he had formed them all while molding the required chakra for the Kinjutsu to take effect. He concentrated as deeply as possible to ensure that the jutsu did not fail, because he would not get another chance to attempt it and certainly could not afford any mistakes.
There was a sudden influx of air which swirled in a vortex all around him, it howled inhumanly and lifted dirt and grit from the cave floor. Pebbles assaulted him randomly and he could hear the sound of shattering glass as his tea set also took to the air, but he ignored it all and continued forming hand-seals.
The howl of the wind was answered by a loud BANG, and a metallic sounding TWANG, and then the cave knew only darkness as his table had overturned and destroyed the oil lantern that provided him with light.
The darkness was brief however and began to abate as the walls started to glow and unnatural golden color, the luminescence was coming from the etched symbols written in stone and it made the man smile, as he continued to form hand-seals. He started to perspire heavily and he breath was now coming in ragged gasps, but he dared not lose his focus otherwise it was all for naught.
He could feel his chakra and life essence leaving him as the jutsu absorbed all the energy he had to give and it was then that he realized that this jutsu was a living breathing thing, a summoning of sorts which would not bend to his will, but had a mind and agenda of its own and thought of him as nothing more than a battery. The symbols were now alive with his chakra and peeled from the cave walls and floated all around him in the air, humming with the ungodly song of the wind, which was the unintelligible voice of this forbidden jutsu.
The book and the pentagram rose together in unison and it was as the pentagram freed itself from the rock that he noticed it was glowing a unique shade of crimson, the color of his own blood. The book and the crimson pentagram rose higher and floated toward the ceiling, as the golden symbols encircled and rotated around them.
He continued forming hand-seals, he was up to one-hundred now and his task was almost complete, each hand-seal was one step closer to the end and despite everything his mind did not falter and his smile did not waiver. Chakra was leaving him faster now as the floodgates had opened and the jutsu was sucking it from him like a vacuum.
The golden symbols were rotating around the book and pentagram, intertwining with each other and drawing closer together. He reached the final hand-seal, and fell to his knees, the book was high above him and he stared at the ceiling as he collapsed onto his back. Tears fell freely from his eyes, and he did not attempt to stop them.
The symbols completely encircled the book and the pentagram and both items were hidden behind a golden sphere of light as they finally lost cohesion and flowed together. When the sphere came into being it was about a foot in diameter but it began to shrink quickly, forming a tighter and tighter ball, until it was the size of an orange and then with a brilliant flash of radiance the ball faded into nothingness.
The flash was the last thing the eyes of the man beheld before his heart stopped beating. His body laid quietly in the darkness of the hidden cave, where not even the voice of the dying wind mourned for him.
Author's End Notes I'll keep this brief, this is the start of a new Naruto tale, which will deviate from the Anime and Manga, but not so much so that the characters will be unrecognizable from the originals, or lose the original flavor that makes them unique, as I hate when established characters are written entirely Out Of Character, because if you're going to do that, you might as well make up your own characters and story, right? I've yet to decide on pairings for those story yet, as there are too many great possibilities out there, so if you'd like to vote on some of the pairing you'd like to see, do it in a review or Private Message. No Yaoi pairings will be considered. Sorry ^_^ Also, if you'd be interested in being a Beta, get in touch.