Naruto

Fading Shadow

~o~

A Hokage had to be willing to die for his people.

Sarutobi Hiruzen sighed, his world-weary eyes trained on the dusty road ahead. Those had been the last words of his own sensei, Senju Tobirama, before he'd sacrificed himself to save Sarutobi and his teammates. There was no greater duty, he'd warned Hiruzen, than that of the Hokage's responsibility to protect his shinobi. The Hokage's life was nothing, he'd said, when it came to safeguarding the lives of the citizens of the Hidden Leaf. A Hokage's people came before his life, before his home, and before his pride. It was a way of life that Hiruzen had never doubted, and had sworn to follow to his dying breath.

Until now.

He grimaced, the memory alone of what he'd done bringing on a burst of unbearable guilt. The fires would rage on unavenged while he fled the scene of destruction like some mongrel coward. Never before in all of the long history of the Village Hidden in the Leaves had the people of that city seen a betrayal so heinous and great as his own. It was beyond unthinkable. Pain and misery clouded his eyes as he cast himself back.

According to the reports he'd received from the ANBU, it had been dawn when Konoha was attacked. He couldn't have reported it himself, as he'd been away on business. With a new Mizukage in control of the Land of Water, duty and honour had obligated him to open up a new dialogue with the struggling nation. The Mizukage had been receptive, if distant. Not that any of that mattered anymore. Hiruzen had received a missive from his advisors at noon, advising him of the imminent invasion, and he'd been halfway back to Konoha by dusk.

He brought a wrinkled hand up to his eyes, rubbing at them tiredly. There was no doubt in his mind that the ease with which his enemies had taken the Leaf was anything but his own, damned fault. Duty had taken him away, it was true, but pride had kept him there. Even when it was clear that the Master of Kirigakure wanted nothing to do with his reconciliation, he had persevered with the talks, certain that peace was the only way.

His pride had cost him his people.

No words could describe the fear and outrage that had overcome him when, with midnight just passed, he had finally arrived on the outskirts of the Hidden Leaf. All the Village was aflame. The district which was home to the Compounds of both Hyūga and Uchiha was a roaring inferno, and the greater part of the merchant's quarter had already collapsed in the wake of the blaze. Thick columns of smoke arose from the ruins, forming a choking sheet that hung low across the rooftops. Three of the four noble countenances carved into the Village's monument were damaged beyond repair, for only the heavily weathered visage of the Shodai retained any semblance of wholeness. Directly beneath it, the Tower of the Hokage had been razed to the ground.

But that wasn't the worst of it. As he'd rushed along the shattered streets, the real tragedy had been all too clear. The battle was hours finished, the last of the Konoha shinobi having long since fled the field. The bodies of the fallen, both civilian and shinobi alike, lined the streets, and there wasn't a single one among them that Hiruzen didn't recognise. Every turn revealed a face too familiar too bear; a guilt too painful to ignore. Every fallen comrade was a rush of raw pain within him. The suffering of the citizens of Konoha was worse again, the still forms of each and all reminding him of his failure.

But it was the children that hurt him the most. Their eyes seemed to question him. To ask him why he hadn't been there to protect them.

He'd had no answer.

Hiruzen frowned, pulled from the morbid past by the gentle jingling of copper. He glanced down, and bit back on the sudden rush of grief at the mere sight of the pendant that hung from his neck. The symbol of the Sarutobi Clan gleamed dully in the faint glow of the moon, a bitter crack snaking across its centre.

He had returned to the Sarutobi Compound with a knowing dread in his heart. Nothing had been left but a charred timber frame, the roof having long since fallen through. His family had not been spared. The pain that he'd kept at bay over the long hours of his return journey had become unbearable. A kind of madness had seized him, and he'd clambered into the ruins of his home with a zealous fervour that belied his aged body. For hours he slaved away amidst the ash, searching for any sign of life. Hoping against hope that someone had survived. But it had been in vain.

The only thing he'd found was the small bronze amulet, sitting on the grime-streaked floor what had once been his son's bedroom.

The eternity spent foraging in the dust had done nothing to erase the insanity that gripped him. If anything, it had only exacerbated his fury. With the last vestiges of his hope vanquished, his rage and hatred had consumed him. He'd descended on the enemy encampment at the base of the Monument in a storm of righteous power. The rank-and-file had been crushed beneath his assault, and not a single man who came before him had been spared his wrath as he'd fought blindly on. It was a battle that, even now, he had almost no memory to speak of.

His shoulder twinged as a forgotten injury made itself known, begging his attention. He bit back on it, focusing on the same invisible point further down the road that he had been for the past hour. Looking back, that blindness terrified him. Never in all his years had he lusted for the heat of death and war as he had that night. Ironically, it was only his discovery of his quarry – those hated demons that had led the forces – that had saved him, and destroyed him.

Even in lunacy's obstinate hold, his blood and chakra roaring angrily, the enemy General and his Lieutenants had overcome him. Hiruzen's assault on the mountain camp was first checked, and then countered. He was driven mercilessly back by his enemy's superior numbers and power. Every blow he landed was met and returned with another twice as hard. In spite of his obvious disadvantage, he'd fought on with mindless abandon. His jutsu had been cruel and strong, but still they had suppressed him.

His attacks had not been driven by the pride and honour of the Hokage alone. It had been the faces that had flashed before him – a smile, a grimace, a frown, a scowl – all of them agonisingly familiar. All of them gone. His duty had asked that he avenge them. The raging madness that had gripped him sought blood. He had been beyond redemption. Had the Shinigami come to claim him, he would have welcomed it with open arms. In the haze of his mind, he'd have been glad to die protecting his people's honour.

At least, that was how he'd thought it would end.

He frowned.

Their battle had taken them across the entire city, to the very edge of the martial quarter. A heavy blow from one of his adversaries had sent him crashing through the shuddering frame of the Academy. Lying on the floor of the third class hall, he'd been momentarily knocked to his senses by a rush of ill-timed nostalgia. The place brought on a torrent of memories; a welcome respite from the heartless battle he'd been fighting. The countless hours he'd spent there bringing hope and knowledge to the future had brought pleasure to him even in his darkest hour.

But then another thought struck him, and how he had sagged beneath it. The hollow emptiness of the hall was a painful reminder that no children would ever work there again. No Genin hopefuls would walk the floors, their young minds ready and eager for the industry of Ninjustu. The faces of his own students had flashed to mind and he'd been thankful that they, at least, were safely far away.

He'd still been able to sense his enemies, waiting for him to return to the battleground outside. In spite of the reprieve granted him, he'd had no intention of stopping. The madness had relinquished its hold on him, but his sense of duty had remained. The honour of his people – the honour of the Hidden Leaf – insisted on the vengeance that only he could deliver on its enemies. Even if there was no hope of his victory, he had to at least attempt it. The Will of the Hokage demanded it.

And all it had taken to break the Will of the Hokage was a young voice, echoing loudly as the first shard of dawn pierced the shadow.

"… Old man Hokage?"

Hiruzen stopped, his feet aching from the countless days they'd been travelling the old road. He peered over his shoulder. His companions were watching him curiously.

He'd found them there, cowering beneath the crumbling frame of the Kohoha Academy. The nervous question, asked even as Hiruzen had allowed himself to accept Death, had shot through him like a blade in the night, and he'd looked around to discover three children, no more than five or six, huddled in the shade of what had once been the teacher's lectern.

He'd recognised the first, the speaker, instantly. Wide blue eyes stared out of a grime-streaked face; the whisker-like birthmarks twitching as he'd stared down at the still form of the Sandaime Hokage. Naruto's cocky abrasiveness was nowhere to be seen. Behind him, a pair of bright green eyes was watching him with an equal level of uncertainty. The tufts of bright pink hair were muddied by the dust, but it had been a long moment before Hiruzen was able to force a name to Haruno Sakura's face. Slouched directly in front of them, his jet black eyes regarding the old man with hard mistrust, was one of the Uchiha children. It had taken him only an instant to recognise Fugaku's youngest son, Sasuke.

They had stared at him.

He had stared at them.

The silence had stretched on.

Sarutobi Hiruzen had been beyond torn. The three children were the first living he'd seen since he'd returned to the Village. The thought alone that someone had survived the apocalypse had sent a spark through his heart; a heart that, in his mind, had already stopped beating. A thousand crazy hopes and plans had raced across the forefront of his mind. The adamant despair of moments before was crushed by the abrupt realisation that the legacy of Konoha could live on in the hearts of these three children.

And then he'd been halted. Five shinobi of astounding calibre lay between the three kids and the freedom he'd suddenly craved for them. If he fell, those outside wouldn't have hesitated to butcher the kids. Given how the tide of battle had swung up to that point, he'd known beyond doubt that there hadn't been even a remote chance of his defeating them single-handedly. The only chance Naruto and the others had to escape was if he fled with them himself.

His resolve had nearly buckled at that. To save them, he had to betray the souls of all those who had fallen. He had to leave them unavenged. It had been a choice between the honour of the thousands who had passed, and the lives of the three fearful children huddled in the dark.

He sighed, casting aside the dark memories as he nodded encouragingly at the trio trailing along behind him. They were bunched up – their shoulders mere inches away from the next – and as he looked down at them, he was gripped by the same certainty that he'd felt the very instant he'd first seen them hidden in the shadow.

There had never been any choice in the matter.

Three exhausted, dirty, miserable heads nodded in response, before trudging up to join him further along the road. They were tired and they were hungry. The holes in their hearts bore the pain of families lost and a fallen nation, and his own ached for them. But they wouldn't be alone. He would be there for them, as they took their first steps into the future. With time, the first of those miserable holes would start to close, and they would be able to return to some semblance of happiness. But for now, at least, they were alive.

He wrapped his arms around them, giving them a gentle shove forward. His prompt was accepted with scant nods and the soft padding of feet in the dirt. Even as they stepped ahead of him, their small profiles outlined against the dawn-time sun, he could see their linked hands. Their knuckles were white from the strength of their grip. The ghost of a world-worn smile twitched at the Professor's lips. He could see their fear, and yet still they walked forward. And for now, at least, he would walk with them.

He cast thoughtfully back to his master's words. It was true that a Hokage had to be willing to die for his people.

But sometimes a Hokage had to be willing to live for his people too.

~o~