AN: So. This is my first fanfic on this site, and in general really. But I was thinking about Han, my favorite Naruto character from a design perspective, and just how little background he and some of the other jinchuuriki get. So this is my attempt at a Han-centric story purely focusing on Han. Maybe later I'll do the same for some of the other less detailed jinchuuriki, if I think it's necessary. But the lack of Han fics kind of inspired me to do this.
Han was born different. He was similar to a normal child, he was. When he was born, he cried and shrieked as if his body was on fire, as newborns tend to do. But when the Gobi was sealed into him, in a dank, seal covered cave beneath the Tsuchikage Complex, Han stopped crying. There was a hush to the air, a quiet anticipation. For an instant, the seal masters and nurse maids believed him dead, at the age of an hour. But rather, Han was asleep.
Hmmmm...
Han shifted in his slumber.
Once again, my pride is affronted, and my dignity disparaged.
A wrinkle in the boy's face. The nursemaids sigh a bit in relief. A jinchuuriki twisted by its biju was not a good sign. They would take whatever normalcy they could get.
To pass me off as if I was naught but a unwanted wedding gift... These Iwa jailers are irritating at best.
The child tosses and turns in its sleep, the dignified baritone hovering at the peripheral of his conscious.
Regardless, my only option is to make this vessel into a worthy warrior. Worthy of wielding my power at least.
The child wakes up, and immediately takes a dump.
For now, I... Wait. The voice of a prisoner among generations braces himself for another terrible beginning of watching his new vessel be potty trained.
Surely, this is at least... A little beneath me... At least a little, Kami-sama?!
Meanwhile, In the Tsuchikage office,
"So the Gobi was transferred easily? No problems?" The Tsuchikage growled out. While perpetually short, his back stood straight, not yet weakened by his age and gravity. Regardless, a wizened face, set in a scowl, and the gray facial hair already dominating his face, radiated authority and ill temper. A harried assistant stood nearby, nodding quickly in the face of his kage's frustration.
"Ah, yes sir. Everything is taken care of, the sealing went flawlessly. Some of the nursemaids have... Concerns though" The assistant hesitated at the end, already knowing his kage's reaction to the complaints.
"Oh? And what would those be?" He ground out. Onoki was in no mood for more bad news.
"Er, it seems the child is 'unnaturally quiet'. The caretakers wish to be switched out before it kills them, as they fear the Gobi might be in control." The assistant reads off. Onoki ground his teeth.
"Is this all the caretakers, or a select few?" He hissed through gritted teeth.
"Ah, well, it seems to be a few junior workers and one or two who generally get the word 'bitch' included in their patient reviews." The last detail made the assistant chuckle a bit, before remembering just how much paperwork all of this involves. An invisible tension disappeared from the Tsuchikage's back, accompanied by a low chuckle of his own.
"Fine then. Get rid of them, have the junior members lectured by a senior member who held their ground, and dock the irritating one's pay. Iwa has no use for cowards, even as nursemaids." The assistant smiled to himself and moved down on the list.
"Alright. The only remaining problem seems to be the child's parents. They uh, seem to want to give him up for adoption." Onoki let out a long suffering sigh.
"Unpleasant, but unsurprising nonetheless. Arrange for him to be placed in the Iwa local orphanage. But be careful, dammit. Lord knows all the other villages are out to get us. The Gobi and Yonbi are our deterrent. Without them, we would be overrun, of that I have no doubt." Onoki grumbled to himself. Then something occurred to him. "On that note, give me a progress report on Roshi. Just because we have a new Gobi container doesn't mean we can forget our resident monkey." Even with the birth of Han, Iwa's trials continue on.
Han was... Intense. That was the best word the caretakers could use to describe him. He was not intense in happiness, sadness or even anger. Not day to day at least. No, Han was intensely focused, on everything. If a gaze or glare had impact, his would be that of a freight train. There was nothing but conviction in his eyes, a one track unstoppable force. Even if, at one year of age, his opponent was vegetables. Resolutely, Han shook his head.
"Han, eat your food, RIGHT NOW." But if Han's gaze was a train, the orphanage matron's was that of a nuclear warhead. Han ate his vegetables.
At two years old, Han could toddle around like any other child. But despite his intensity, or perhaps because of it, he did not notice he was different. The other orphans don't notice anything of influence, but there's always an adult sneaking fearful glances, or whispering to the one next to him. And the looks of disdain are always there. The contempt he sees around him is impossible to notice, but the young mind of Han attributes it to his family-less status. But he doesn't care. The other orphans play with him, and the matron treats him like all the other children. Although, she treats all the children like pack mules, albeit pack mules she loves.
Iwa's orphanage was rather shoddy, if well taken care of. Paint peeled regularly, and there was quite a bit of ominous creaking in the building. But Han had never lived anywhere else, and was hardly at the age where he could comprehend things like class differences or budget cuts. After all, he could barely speak using verbs and nouns in conjunction, if at all. So sitting at the great table in the main hall, where all the other orphans eat, Han was perfectly content among the noise and chaos. Chewing on toughened bread and swallowing cheap, mass produced soup, Han ate with quiet contemplation. There had been another adoption meeting today, where orphans had been lined up in their best kimonos and yukatas, which wasn't altogether impressive, and had the dirt and grime rubbed from their faces. Han disliked going to such meetings. The orphanage was his home, why would he leave? He was treated well here. Besides, all the people who come to adopt look at him funny. If that's what parents are like, Han decided, he didn't want one. Or two, for that matter. Or one set? How many parents do people have anyway?!
"A-ah, Han-kun?" He was interrupted from his musings on the exact contents of a familial system with the arrival of one of the more skittish workers. With glasses falling precariously on her nose, and a hand worrying at her braid, the young woman leaned down to his eye level and looked with concern at him.
"A-ano, you were staring a-at the wall really hard. A-are you alright?" Her eyes shined with concern, and not for the first time. When he gets lost in thought, his stare intensifies as his focus does. Usually, this leads people to believe something is troubling him. Han shook his head.
"Just thinking. Thank you for your concern, Aria-San." Aria's face relaxed a bit, and she smiled wide.
"O-oh no, it's fine! Please, go back to eating, Han-kun. I didn't mean to disturb you." She smiles again and walks back to the kitchen. Han goes back to eating, leaving his confusing thoughts on parents behind him. Besides Aria, a lot of the staff doesn't like him. There are others like Aria, but not too many. It doesn't matter to him though. All those people are in different wings or generally uninvolved in his life. There are a lot of orphans left over from the last shinobi war, after all. But overall, despite the constant looks and whispers he gets, the next few years are fairly normal for him. Three, four, five, six years old, and this is around when Han notices the other children begin to shy away from him, understanding what he is from some of the older children. Han grew up as well though. Like all the other orphans, Han wore dirty, but traditional style robes. That's where the similarities end. Towering above the other children by a head at least, he gives the appearance of a type of monolith. Intense gaze, features strong and sharp. His mouth set in a permanent line, never twitching or frowning. Everywhere he went, he kept his sugegasa perched atop his head. And at the age of six, still young and content, Han learns what it is to truly hate.
He and the other children were, excluding Han who was more mildly curious than anything, excited. Today, all the orphans were going on a field trip. Some age groups were going to different areas, but they were all going to somewhere interesting. Apparently, his group was going to the stone monument. It sounded a bit boring to Han, but the rest of the kids wanted to go somewhere, anywhere really, so much that the destination didn't matter to them. As they approached however, the matron received a letter from the orphanage.
"Ugh! There is a new child being transferred to the orphanage right now! Stupid, idiotic, bureaucratic, ugh... Aria, I need to leave you in charge. The new child is a baby, so someone needs to be there to get it settled, and I won't be able to get to any nursemaids in time. Can you handle the kids for me?" Aria nodded frantically as the matron listed off instructions. "And Han! Help Aria take care of the kids. We all know you're the most mature of these little hooligans, so you're an assistant for Aria here, got it?" Han nods just as frantically. He's spent one too many times in time out to consider blowing off the matron.
As the tour guide talks animatedly about the monument, which doesn't look half as interesting as the tour guide seems to ink it is, Han tunes the man out and focuses his energy on glaring at any of the kids who seem to be getting any funny ideas. Half of them nearly pee themselves. As Han's vision wanders, he starts as he notices a large plume of smoke in a corner of the village. And suddenly he's running past Aria, past the kids, past the irritatingly chipper tour guide, towards that smoke. Because that's where the orphanage is.
After five minutes of sprinting, Han finds the orphanage with smoke pouring out the windows. Flames lick the air through some of the windows. The creaking sound is there, echoing like the mournful howl of some great beast. Han takes a step back, shuddering a little. His home is burning. Then it all comes crashing down as he realizes the matron is in there, with the new baby. Pushing past yelling firefighters and concerned workers, Han barrels through the door and races up the stairs to where the newborn wing is located. One, two, three flights of stairs. And in the smoke filled hallway, lies the matron against a wall, holding a crying child in her arms. On her forehead, a slow trickle of blood travels down, the debris littering the cradle room behind her showing no doubt as to the cause. Her eyes blink wearily as Han runs to her.
"H-Han? Han, take the child! Take her and run!" The matron yells, shoving the child into Han's arms before he can say a word. Han ignores her and grabs her arm, throwing it over his shoulder. As he rises, he strains himself to lift her alongside him. "Han, ignore me and take the-" a bout of heavy coughing drowns out her words as her eyes water. Han ignores her and struggles as his eyes tear up, only partly from the smoke. And he knows, deep down, that he can't do it. That he's small and weak, and the smoke is choking him, and that he can't save her. But he doesn't care. With all the stubbornness of a six year old, he rejects that truth and focuses his entire being on pulling the matron along. And somewhere, a beast cracks an eye open, and nods in approval.
Suddenly, Han feels like he's burning alive, like his blood is boiling in his veins, but that doesn't matter because he's STRONG. The matron and the child are in his arms, and he's leaping down the stairs and he's running through the main hall, and he's out the back, and they're laying in the grass, and she's gripping his hand and she's calling his name,
"Thank you, Han."
and she's coughing and he's asking her not to go, and she's not breathing and the baby is crying but it's alive, and there's a man in rich man clothes there, and he has gasoline in his hand, and the burning is different now, because it's RAGING, and he's next to the man, and the man's afraid, he's saying it wasn't supposed to happen, and the man's broken now, and his hands are covered in blood, and the man is bleeding too, but Han doesn't hurt, doesn't scream like he does, he's-
"Ah, sir? The, uh, the Gobi container killed someone, sir."
"Humph. Well, I suppose I'll go do damage control. Little whelps, interrupting their Tsuchikage's paperwork... Well?! Let's go!"
"A-ah! Yes sir!"
AN: So? Read & Review. Let me know if there's anything you think I can do to increase length without skipping around the years so much. Thanks for your time! Also...
Sugegasa: The type of straw hat worn by Han and the Akatsuki, although Han's isn't straw in canon, but hey, we're getting there.