Disclaimer: Kishimoto owns Naruto. I do not own Naruto.
"How much for one of those?"
"Hundred yen."
"There." A clink.
He pointed a finger at something on sale. The peddler nodded and, picking the fruit off his shelf delicately, handed it to a boy with a brown mole on his chin. His son was only six years old, but he sat on a worn wood stool and grinned at the passerby unrestrainedly nonetheless, there to help his father in the business. The young one inspected the pear, running over the skin with his grimy fingers. Then he pulled out something from a back pocket in his trousers that glimmered in the light. It was a knife, barely larger than a switchblade, the width of a thumb, and perhaps the only thing clean on his person. The boy made a show in presenting this blade to his customer, before wiping it on a mat by his stool and proceeded to shave the skin off the apple pear. It took him little time to work down the fruit.
The stranger nodded and took the shaved pear appreciatively. He lifted the top off the pear, the shaved skin pulling off the fruit in a one-piece spiral. With a flick, the stranger sent the outsides sailing into a abject garbage pile on a side of the alley. There was a muffled sound behind it, before a dirty old man crawled out, ready to lambast whoever had disturbed his resting spot. But by then the stranger had already moved on.
Snacking on his treat, he stepped around a block and onto a main road, mingling into the passerby and becoming one of the many early-dwellers in the dawn's high-lying, early mist. Along the streets lined tens of other vendors, sitting in colorful wagons laden with comestibles and filling the air with their chatter. Nekomata Avenue, a sign proudly marked at crossing in the road. There, the road separated the two districts in a line. The stranger crossed it, swerving only slightly in rhythm of step to avoid a swerving cart with a swaying stack of packages. The two heavy-hoofed oxen grunted out an unintelligible apology, but their drivers didn't bother.
The sidewalk on the other side was significantly tidier than the city section the stranger traveled from. There was no peddlers on this side of the road, but rather storefronts and proper establishments. Here were the "decent" people. He lowered his head and shrunk into his collar. In some ways, it was not an improvement.
The stranger slowed down in his walk to snatch a crisp newspaper from a new stack and threw a few yen at the dozing storekeeper. Ruffling the paper a little as he walked, the stranger noticed the front page- Daimyo's Tanabata Festival, two weeks.
"How time flies." The stranger mused inwardly, letting his legs carry him through the crowded roads in old routine. The paper shuffled some more. Above him, winds blew and the thick mist that blotted the sun and covered the sky shifted and swirled uneasily.
He turned a few corners, the streams of passerby slowing till there were only a few trickles, and then there was nobody left. The stranger closed his newspaper and folded it up. He straightened and stopped. The street was wider than what he had left behind- this place had once been crowded and a center of village power. But now it was deserted, despite being only a meager few miles from the central districts.
Not many people dwelled in this place. Those so did it perhaps from old loyalty- admirable in their determination to keep this history of the village alive. A phantom lurked there, of the vanished greatness, and hid in their murky, past horrors, a reminder of the menaces that brought this place to ruin.
The stranger sighed and walked down the ghostly street. It was a shortcut- but an unpleasant one. Not many would've dared to venture this close to the old compounds. Some believed it was cursed, haunted by victims of slaughter.
His brisk steps carried him farther and farther down, making small sounds where his bamboo sandals clapped on the wooden surface. He walked past a banner, one with a red and white fan on it. He walked past a brickly, forbidding tower that had once served as a police department for some time. He walked past the wide oaken gate of a clan no longer.
The stranger took his time meandering around the forbidding complex. There were so many back alleys and branch offs that it was like a village of its own. With their human inhabitants scarce, there thrived nests of wild felines and dirty birds. The animals made not a sound as he walked casually down, but rather fixating on him with their luminous or beady eyes.
A brown cat clipped with a red ribbon on the ear darted across the alley way behind him, moving silently from shadow to shadow.
A low, elaborate wall surrounded the first half of the district, keeping away distractions away from the main house, shrines, and training grounds. Its sharp, styled roofs loomed over the benighted sidewalk.
The stranger crouched before leaping up to the barrier. His jump landed him on the very top with precision, where he stretched his arms out to keep his balance. He briskly sped down the compound walls. Like a shadow, his figure was shrouded in darkness. No one saw his form as he rapidly walked down the wall, bypassing the obstructing gates and rubbish heaps and hazards that waited for him in the side streets below.
Under a gold and orange sky, red clouds above him moved slowly like wispy ships through the air. The winds picked up and the stranger knew that morning was coming. He would better hurry.
As he approached the edge of the wall perimeters, the stranger slowed down and lowered himself down by his hands, onto a tree covering the alley. The branches ruffled, before he walked out onto the sidewalk, hands stuffed in his pockets casually. A swirl of leaves caught several in his hair.
Again, the stranger found himself immersed in the constant motion of the crowd. The only feature to distinguish him from the others was his dark jacket and a defining band of orange color that wound across his arm. The streets were absurdly wide, now. He was on one of the largest and most celebrated highways of the metropolis, one that was tailored for the great caravans that accompanied rich lords and nobles anywhere. It was a symbol of power, this road that the daimyo himself was carried down every visit. Its stone surface unblemished, with stately and imposing giants squatting at its sides.
There was the headquarters of the Gokenin Chikama, the thick gates guarding the intimidating castle that sat stonily behind it and with two uniform-clad men motionless. The modernistic but lavish Kindami firms stood majestically opposite, gilded torii gates lined and strung with chiming bells, and a cluster of five tall, red buildings standing over their neighbors.
The stranger hurried down the road and over a stout, heavy granite bridge. Delicate strings hung overhead and suspended red lamps and chimes and ribbons. Red was a lucky color. He passed by a lamppost with a street sign- Tobirama Avenue.
A little boy with a face like a rat walked roughly into him. Scowling, the stranger dislodged the boy from his side and grabbed his stolen wallet from the pickpocket. The ruffian glared at him, but paused when he saw the face. The stranger pushed the boy away and continued on.
Next lamppost hung a long white banner with a sole word on it.
The previous buildings paled in eminence to this one. Its marbled rotunda squatted like a bird of prey, imposingly, behind a row of columns. Encircled around it was limestone gates- on it, the fire kanji blazed. In front of this courthouse was deposited a large, conspicuous monolith. Under the insignia of the leaf it simply read: Council.
Intimidating as a castle. Austere as a shrine. Brazen as a noble's mansion. Here were the seats of the city's greatest movers and shakers, old nobility and new wealth alike. The stranger slowed down beside the rock and let a hand brush the polished top. It curled, mockingly, around the diminutive words that were carved on, likely by some overpaid carpenter.
Founders: Tobirama Senju and Danzo Shimura
He sneered behind his collar and walked on, faster. Next to the council house was a pair of stout towers. The road broadened, flowing and then congealing at its end into a massive circular sidewalk, a flowing water fountain at its centre. Behind it stood a steady, dated building.
A hint of sun poked over the dispersing clouds, sending bright sunrays down to land. It hit a stone face at an adventitious angle and bounced off onto the stranger's face. His stride slowed, and stopped.
He looked up, eyes transfixed by the faces of the four great shadows of Fire, Hokages, which hovered over the village. Both revered and feared for the same reasons, it was under their strength that the village had thrived and spread. Some emotion deeper briefly flickered in the blues of the stranger's eyes. Remembering.
Then there was a hand on his shoulder and he repressed a surprised flinch.
"Isn't it a little late for you to be standing outside and staring at my face, Naruto?" an elderly voice spoke pleasantly from behind.
Naruto turned around, looking up at the old Lord Third dressed drably in a farmer's jacket and hat. He quirked a smile at how ordinary his surrogate grandfather looked in the decrepit outfit.
"Not as late as you are to your next appointment." He countered. The Sarutobi clan head nodded.
"I suddenly decided on a timely break from all that work before my health deteriorates any further. A breath of fresh air, my doctors say."
His young charge snorted. When had the Hokage ever listened to what the medic ninja said? Hiruzen frowned, leaning over and lightly smacking Naruto's head in fake anger.
"Don't mock the old man's weakness, boy. I've still got more than enough strength to discipline you!"
"Yeah, yeah," Naruto scowled back, rubbing his head, "my sincere apologies to our leader Hokage-sama! Who am I, Ebisu?" He shuddered.
"If only half my ninja were as respectful as Ebisu-kun…" the Hokage sighed, "he reminds me of the days when we still had discipline. None of this insubordination."
Naruto turned away slightly. "Not just from your ninjas."
Hiruzen was silent for a moment. The crowd's bustle continued around them.
"Still standing there Naruto, like you always do? What is it you're thinking about?"
Naruto gave an amused look back at the row of impassive faces that adorned the great mountain. "Me? Just about how boring the faces look," He joked, all humor and no honesty. "The only color the mountain has is orange- not that I'm against that, of course. It lacks. . . variety."
"Does it, Naruto? The mountain seems fine to me without any of your artistic improvisations." Hiruzen said humorously. "But who am I to stop your enthusiasm?"
"Well, it is your face."
The Hokage just waved it off.
"I don't mind at all, Naruto. It's just a reminder of the old days now, sentimental thing. I would gladly lend it for your amusement."
"And your ANBU won't be particularly enthused." Naruto smirked.
"It will be good training for both them and you." Hiruzen claimed. "A ninja must be prepared for everything– even being late to class."
Naruto laughed. The sky had cleared itself, not a single cloud poised to steal the glory of the sun.
"Hm. Time flies, doesn't it? I think I've delayed you long enough. You better get going." The old man patted his young friend's shoulder and turned to slowly meander further down the sidewalk. A couple busypeople crossed Naruto's line of sight. After they passed, the Hokage had disappeared like a mirage.
Naruto shrugged and turned around to enter the building behind him.
Inside the academy walls was a courtyard with a few young trees planted haphazardly. A tall building with a circular roof and the fire kanji sat in the middle. Its main entrance had a welcome sign sitting right above, the gates making two wide red openings. A few stone paths led to and around the courtyards.
Naruto skipped the building and walked around its right side. He followed a long extending wall that ran behind the main building and to a series of connected rooms. At the back, wedged inside an alley, was a pair of innocuous brown doors. Unlike the crisp sharp appearance of the previous entrances, this one was long-worn. The very top of the door was several feet above Naruto's head.
The boy with sun-kissed hair opened the door and entered. Inside was an empty hallway, with a few orange doors down the hall. A pattern of iron beams criss-crossed over the dull green walls like web work.
An orange door banged open and a harried looking ninja rushed out. His forehead protector was sideways and his chunin vest was ruffled.
"Hokage-sama! You have an appointment right now. Hokage-sama?" He looked around in panic down the empty hallway. There was some muffled noises in the room.
Naruto pressed himself against the wall as the Hokage's aid ran past.
"You'd think that he'll stop panicking after the first ten times." Naruto snorted and shook his head. Then the boy remembered his class and he quickly passed to the next hallway.
His classroom was located down near the indoors gym. Naruto passed a few administration ninjas on his way down, but they either ignored him or nodded in recognition. As he approached the interior of the main administration building in Konoha, Naruto spotted more activity and ninja guards stiff at attention.
Finally, the doors passed into view. They were arranged by plates of wood- Classroom, Ninja Third Level, Suganuma Mizuki, Iruka Umino.
The doors were absolutely soundproof. But the moment after Naruto slide one of them open, a sudden cacophony assaulted his ears.
"Again?-"
"-how many times-"
"-time management problems-"
"-this is outrageous behavior-"
"-hn-"
And among those voices…
"-NARUTO!" A brown haired adult shouted in exasperation. "You are late! Again!"
Naruto lowered his head meekly.
"Oh, come in, come in." The chunin scowled without any real ire, turning back to the desk to mark something on his clipboard.
His student retreated to his usual seat, in the very back benches. From there, the high seats gave him a complete view of the class. Including the dozen or so students who were turned around and glaring at him. He dropped the newspaper onto the bench beside him and took off his drawstring bag. One of his classmate's hands immediately snatched up his dropped paper.
As Naruto sat down, there was an amused snort from the left and one of his classmate's faces came into view, half of it covered by the newspaper he was holding.
"This time it's seventeen minutes, Naruto." The boy grinned at his friend. "Iruka-sensei was just starting roll call, and of course you made it in just when he was about to mark your absence. It's always Monday, isn't it? Are you having trouble waking up or something?"
"It's a long walk to the Academy, Kiba. I got lost reminiscing." Naruto claimed innocently. Kiba gave Naruto a disbelieving look, folding the paper before passing it over to his other classmates.
"Reminiscing? That's for someone like my grandma. You're no old man, Naruto."
"What? Sasuke isn't an old man, but he does that all the time on break."
"That's brooding, Naruto. He's probably deciding how he's going to pummel you next spar." Kiba replied, before sighing. "But at least he does that in his own time. Get out your materials and help me finish this medicine scroll. Shikamaru's being uncooperative."
Retrieving a roll of paper from his bag, Naruto casually unrolled it past sections of diagrams and neat writing.
"What is it on again? Topical balms, right?" He set it on the desk in front of him. Eight pages.
Akamaru bounced over, settling his paws down and sniffing the edges.
"Yeah." Kiba pulled over and started inking parts of Naruto's research onto his own paper. "My sister has been prodding me over my work at school, again. And Iruka-sensei is too happy to give out extra assignments. It's troublesome as hell."
An extrinsic gust of wind blew gently onto the scroll, and it rolled back to a ninth page. Naruto frowned. Wind in a windowless classroom? Where was the current coming from?
He held out the back of his hand over the scroll. It was from his front right side...
There were little folding sounds as a miniature crane hopped delicately onto Naruto's bench. The sun-kissed blond's blue eyes blinked in recognition and he picked it up. The blue origami paper unfolded like a flower in his right hand, and Naruto slid the slip underneath his scroll discreetly.
On the note it read in delicate handwriting: Umino-sensei was delayed by severe allergies to wisteria pollen planted on his desk.
He reached into his jacket pocket for a writing utensil and wrote his own underneath. The Hokage wanted a talk outside. Sorry.
The blond boy held his hand up and blew softly. Beside him, Kiba's nose sniffed suspiciously. The note folded itself up again and glided back to its owner on the wind, leaving only a trace of lavender. His friend glanced back at him in curiosity, but the crane had already disappeared.
AN