A Far Away Life
Author's note: Um...I don't own the rights to Love Hina or Naruto. I make no money off of this. It's freedom of speech baby. Leave reviews. Enjoy the read. Not a happy story. I can't seem to write happy stories.
Chapter 1: Reckonings
He watches them from his seat on the porch, the orange hue of daylight telling him that sunset is near.
He's about to call them inside when he stops himself. He hears their laughter; it's like wind chimes dancing in a gentle breeze, a joyous ruckus that he doesn't have the heart to end. So instead, he sits back down on his rocking chair and watches them play.
His oldest is a precocious 12 years old boy named Iruka, Roo to his family. Even as a toddler, he had demonstrated great aptitude and intelligence. "He get's that from his mother," the proud father would often proclaim to any passerby. And on occasions, in a voice too low to hear, he would whisper, "along with those lavender eyes."
Roo was the first and only child of Hinata, daughter of Hirashi, clan leader of the Hyuuga. They had been forced to marry, but the man never complained. After all, he loved her.
She died shortly after their son was born, a victim of a senseless battle.
But that was the past and there was no need to reopen old wounds. So the man turns his attention back to his children. He smiles at what he sees.
Roo is chasing his three other siblings in a rambunctious game of tag.
Of course, as the children of a legendary shinobi, there is no such thing as a simple game of tag.
The youngest one, a little girl by the name of Mihoshi, Miho for short, squeals in delight. The man sees the glint in her eyes, the fox like grin adorning her cherubic face.
She snaps her finger, and poof, she disappears in a cloud of smoke.
Of all his children, Mihoshi is most like their father. Bright in spirit, boundless in energy, eyes bluer than the ocean true – and always full of surprises.
Roo and the twins stops in mid-stride, shocked to see that their baby sister had somehow eluded them through the art of ninjutsu.
Tsunade, ever the little commander, was the first to recover. "Okay men, spread out and search for the missing ninja!"
How such a booming voice could ever come from a mouth that small, her father would never know.
Standing next to the loud girl is his other son. At age 9, Jiraiya, or Rai, stood nearly the same height as his older brother. The man smirks. "That boy is going to be a giant," he laughs to himself. He watches as the little giant shakes his head, making no attempt to hide the displeasure of being ordered around by his sister: "Who made you boss, Tsu?"
The young blonde girl smiles in response, her cuteness radiating with the power of a thousand suns. She drifts towards him, her movements - almost ethereal.
BAM!
Rai did not see his sister's fist knocking him into the ground, but he felt every bit of it.
"I'm sorry, what were you saying?" she asks coolly.
"Nothing," he replies, rubbing the pear-size bump emerging from his head. The man can only chuckle from his porch.
The twins, as they came to be known, were not in fact twins at all. Tsu, when she was six, had stumbled upon a lost little boy who was without a home, a family or a name. Bringing this boy home, she declared, with no consultation with her father, that the boy was named Jiraiya and that he was staying with them "forever."
Naruto could only blink in response and that was how little Jiraiya became his son. Ever since that day three years ago, they had become inseparable: a mischievous gang of two. So Naruto just called them his little twins and the label stuck.
His father may have been distracted by the twins, but not Roo. He remains ever vigilant. After all, a missing ninja is still on the loose.
It's then he notices something just within his peripheral vision: a patch of blond "grass" a few feet away. Roo folds his arm across his chest and gives the patch of earth a confident look. His father just grins with pride, astonished by how talented and smart his children had proven to be. "Dead last," he sighs, remembering his own childhood.
The man shakes his head before anymore memories could be dredged up. No, he would rather live in the moment and forget the past.
His thoughts are interrupted by tiny yelps and shouts of glee. The man looks up and sees his oldest holding his youngest by the collar over a deep hole in the ground.
"Silly," the little boy laughs, "if you're going to bury yourself, make sure you cover your head too."
Mihoshi pouts at her older brother in response, the slight tinge of red in her cheeks expressing her embarrassment.
His other two children, his twins, are rolling on the ground, tears in their eyes, laughing at the young one's predicament.
Roo, with a mischievous smile, winks at the tiny girl still hanging in the air. Her mood instantly lightens. She knows what's coming.
Before the twins have a chance to defend themselves, their other two siblings pounce. Chaos erupts as Mihoshi and Roo proceeds to tickle their siblings, the first salvos of a major tickle war.
The man can't keep from smiling.
How he loves them.
The wind picks up, carrying with it the scent of wild flowers. His eyes widen. He can't be sure, but there, in the corner of his eyes, he sees strands of golden hair floating in the wind.
He turns his head and there sitting next to him is his second wife, Temari of the Sand, a beauty as untamed as the desert itself.
She had grown out her hair, but made no attempt at straightening it as the fashion of the day dictated. Instead, it was curly and wild. He preferred it that way and she knew that as well.
The first time she let her hair down in front of him, it was during a particularly windy day many years ago. They had just finished training together, a joint exercise sponsored by their respective villages. Wanting to unwind, she untied the ribbons bundling her hair, allowing it to fall gently onto her shoulders.
He was about to suggest another round of sparring when he turned his gaze towards her. What he saw that day would change his life forever. Her hair, as blonde as his own, seemed to be alive, dancing to an unheard melody, beckoning him. He was smitten by her beauty. How could he have been so blind?
Slowly, she returned his gaze and found the boy was staring.
"Finally," she thought, "took him long enough."
Emerald eyes met with the deep blue pools and two souls connected. The distance that lay between them vanished.
In the twilight, they shared their first kiss; first of many.
Back on the porch, in a land far from the sand dunes of the Wind Country, he reaches out his hand, her smile never wavering.
"Daddy?"
Temari is gone.
"Daddy?"
The chair is empty.
The man turns his attention to the little one standing on the porch staring at him. Her eyes, one green, one blue, peer into him, past the genteel mask that he forces to the surface.
She sees his sadness, but says nothing about it. She knows daddy's pain and doesn't want to make him feel worst.
"Are you okay Daddy? You got all weird," his youngest squeaks out, sounding like a chibi mouse.
"Yes, I'm fine." And with that, he lifts the young girl up without protest and places a loud wet kiss on her cheek, the suction causing the skin to blotch red.
She squeals in delight.
How she loves her daddy.
"Okay kids, it's time for dinner. Go wash up."
Rai and Roo shout in unison, "Ten more minutes!"
But their pleas came to naught against a man who stared down each of the nine Akatsuki members and lived to tell the tale.
His two little girls, however, are more than a match for the "Hero of the Valley." Tsunade and Mihoshi, their puppy dog eyes at maximum potency, direct their onslaught of cute at their hapless father. "Pweety pweese," they chimed in.
His resolve crumbles in seconds.
"Okay, ten more minutes, but then we eat."
The children bounce up in joy as they revel in their victory against the legend that they knew to be their father.
And so, the man walks back to his chair and watches as his children make the most of their newly acquired time.
Their joy would be short lived.
Though he had been retired for many years, he was still the master of masters in the shadow arts.
"Children get inside."
The tone of his voice tells them that there would be no debate. Roo, taking charge of his siblings, grabs his little sisters' hands and lead them into the house. Rai takes the rear, his eyes sweeping the landscape for any threats to his adopted family.
"Go to the basement and stay there," speaks the man with an even tone. Roo nods in compliance. His children are afraid. He'll make the intruder pay for that.
The man stands and breathes in deep. He does not fear the approaching shinobi. Though strong, his opponent is not strong enough. He could tell that from the chakra, but he fears any contact with that world.
He already lost two wives to it; he did not want to lose his children as well.
The man ponders that maybe a quick kill, a non-descript grave, and a hasty move may be sufficient to protect his family from unnecessary attention, but the scent tells him otherwise – the scent of cherry blossoms.
The man focuses his attention on the distant forest nearly a mile away. His eyes narrow. He sees her.
"He sees me?!"
The kunoichi knows that it's impossible for this man to see her, legend or not. She's well hidden in the foliage and a mile away from him. Through her binoculars, she could also see that he has no telescope or lens that could aid him.
No, it was just coincidence, but her heart continues to beat furiously against her chest. She had every right to be cautious. Hell, she was scared and no one could blame her given the target.
She was raised on his stories. Parents would tell great tales of his adventures. He was the man known as the Hero of the Valley, the slayer of armies, the one who killed the great Kages of the Mist and Rock villages. His power was legend. Who was she? Motoko Aoyoma, a rookie ANBU operative on her first long distance mission. She knew that she was no match for that man – the man who was walking her way.
"Shit, is he coming this way?"
Her heart nearly ruptured at the answer. As an ANBU operative, she was trained in the art of lip reading, an important skill for a spy.
Through the binoculars, she saw the man's lips move. It took only a moment for her to interpret its movements.
"I am."
"Impossible!" she mentally screams. There was no earthly way that he could hear her from such a great distance, but she could not deny the evidence, nor ignore those terrible eyes, like burning hellfire, spewing forth wrath and destruction.
A single word enters her raddled brain: "Run!"
With all her might, she leaps from her perch and runs – hard – but she wouldn't get far.
In mid leap, she feels a crushing blow to her midsection, forcing air and blood from her body. She hears the wind whipping past her ears as she flies through the air, the leaves cutting into her flesh. Pain courses through her body as she makes impact with a large fir tree, splintering its bark.
Motoko wants to scream, but her diaphragm will not contract, leaving her lungs powerless to draw breath.
Groggy and in agony, she slumps to the ground.
Her senses, however, had not been dulled by the attack. Her ears pick up the slight crunching of grass underfoot. Someone is approaching. Terror grips her soul; old memories resurface as her mind struggles to stay sane.
They had met years ago, though not directly. She had been there when he left the Hidden Leaf village. Motoko was just a young chunnin back then.
Her chunnin team, along with the rest of the shinobi, had assembled at the massive gates of the village in response to the news of his abrupt departure. She didn't know why, but the Hero of the Valley, as he had been called at the time, was leaving the village.
By the time she got to the gates, the Hokage and her personal body guards stood before the man, preventing him from leaving.
She couldn't make out what they were saying, but she could see the near hysterical Hokage shouting at the man, whose visage remained obscured by the straw hat that he was wearing.
It was the first time that any of the shinobi witnessed such a display of weakness from any Kage, but they could not blame her.
She was losing her son.
The man stretched out his hand, shocking the Hokage into silence. Motoko could see the spiraling sphere of chakra forming in the man's palm, the technique that had made his father a legend: the Rasengan.
So powerful was his technique that it caused the winds to bend. The weaker shinobi had to latch themselves to others lest they blew away from the hurricane gusts emanating from the sphere.
But Motoko only saw the eyes of her Hokage, the sight of which nearly broke her heart. Such sadness was in those eyes.
With a mighty roar, the man slammed his palm into the ground, creating a shockwave that drove towards the gates, goring the Earth of its flesh. It took the strength of five ANBU operatives to force the Hokage out of the destructive path of his technique.
For nearly one hundred years, the gates of the Hidden Leaf Village stood impervious to all the ravages of man and nature.
In less than a moment, the gates had been destroyed, shattered into oblivion. Only ruin and the deep gash of earth was left behind to speak of his power.
As he walked past the Hokage, he turned to the crowd and decreed in a voice that seemed to boom with such malice and ill will that even the hardest among them cringed.
"Any who follows me, any who dares disturb my peace, I shall end them!"
His words felt like icicles, stabbing into the heart of every shinobi in attendance. The great hero was gone.
On that day, Motoko prayed that she would never have to meet that man again, the man standing before her.
Her body is quivering. She wants to flee, but cannot. Her diaphragm stirs – finally she can breathe. Air enters her lungs in shallow, rapid gasps. Tears begin to stream down, the pride she has is all but shattered, like her body.
He grabs her scalp. She whimpers in pain as he pulls her up, her body dangling under his grasp. The pain is excruciating, but she can't will her legs to support the weight.
She can feel hair follicles being torn from its roots. She tries to open her eyes, but she's too afraid.
The killing intent that the man emits is overpowering her senses. She is an insect to this man.
She begs, "please…please don't kill me."
The man frowns. "How did I become like this," he asks himself. Years ago, he would never have harmed someone as decent as this young shinobi, but that was years ago. And the years had not been kind to him.
He raises his fist. Better to make it quick. As he strikes, a blur of pink races past him, his cherry blossom has finally reveled herself. He's grateful. Killing women was always difficult business for the man.
The tree beneath his fist explodes, spraying the surrounding area with splinters and wood chips.
He's amazed at how fast she had gotten since the last time they met. "What else has change?" he wonders.
"I've come to end you demon."
He smirks. Her voice sends chills down his spine. The man hopes his wives will understand for the moment of weakness.
First love is never easy to forget.
He turns around and sees a kunoichi gently placing the wounded Motoko onto the back of a giant slug. She wears the standard uniform of an ANBU Black OP, the elite of the elite in the Hidden Leaf Village.
Only the most skilled and experienced shinobi can join their group. He's saved many in his life.
"Go my friend, speed her to the others."
The slug nods and slithers away, leaving behind a trail of slime that fills his nostrils with a sickening sweet odor.
He decides to speak, hoping that he does not have to kill a friend this day: "Leave now Sakura or I will keep my word."
At first, she does nothing, her back still facing him – a defiant act. Never turn your back against an enemy, so the adage goes, especially one such as him.
"You're not fast enough," he adds.
His words echo in her ears, words spoken years ago. But she forces those memories back into the abyss and steels herself. She replies, "Your word? What good is the word of a demon?"
She hopes to get a rise out of the man, to see some semblance of the hyper-active youth that she once knew.
But he doesn't take the bait. He's made his peace with the evil entombed in his body.
"Suit yourself." His words are devoid of emotions, but laced with killing intent.
He attacks. His speed is beyond human. The world slows for him; his body feels like it's moving in molasses. He knows that his mind is barely able to keep up with the speed that his body is experiencing, but he can function enough to draw his kunai and stab at the warm body in front of him.
The blade pierces her armor with relative ease. He barely feels the resistance. His eyes widen as the body surrounding his blade begins to dissolve. He can see the solid mass of her body giving way to a billowing stack of smoke.
He stops, the world speeds up. His smirk returns. "A shadow clone Sakura, I see you've copied my tactics," he says mockingly.
Four kunais, laced with poison and armed with explosive notes, speed towards the back of his head. The man dodges them with ease, disarming them as they pass.
From the trees, thousands of slugs rain down on him, each one spitting out organic acid. The man just sighs in response.
His hands form seals at a pace that only a Sharingan eye could see. He doesn't utter words to finish the technique, he doesn't have to.
Without warning, the slugs are shredded into minute chunks by invisible blades, their acid neutralized by an unseen force.
Sakura can only gawk at how easily her best attacks have been thwarted. But she will not give up the fight. Cracking her knuckles, she prepares for hand to hand combat.
A suicidal plan given the man's superior taijutsu, but she has no other recourse. She is a close-combat fighter. She has no useful range attacks, none that would work on him anyway.
She lunges forward, her chakra enhanced fist mere centimeters from his body. She knows she can liquefy solid granite with her punches, but she's too slow. Sakura expects him to disappear.
Impact!
She gasps. She doesn't know what frightens her more, the fact that she was now open to a counter-attack or that her punch didn't seem to affect him in the slightest.
Before Sakura could remove her fist from his chest, the man decides to end it. She can see his shoulder rise, just barely. Before she can register anything else, Sakura feels the sickening pain of her flesh being slashed open, her mid-section bleeding profusely from the wound.
She screams in pain, instinctively clutching her torn belly with her arms. An instant later, a deep gash forms on the inside of her right thigh, blood flowing down her leg in rivulets. Her right hand reaches out to apply pressure to her leg, when she feels her left leg give way, the tendon in her calf being sliced in half.
She wants to cry out, but she would not give the bastard the satisfaction.
Sakura feels her head being jerked back hard, a hot, wet, breath lapping her right ear.
She blushes, she's longed for his touch, but not like this. He whispers, "You shouldn't have come here."
She has no chance to respond. He draws the blade across her throat; the blood spurts out as the artery is pierced.
He sees her gurgling blood, crimson liquid bubbling from her wound. The man looks into her eyes and does not hide his regret. He'll give her that much.
He watches as her pupils dilate; only dead lifeless eyes remain.
The man feels remorse, but doesn't let it go any further than that. He places her body on the ground and walks away.
The man doesn't make it far before he hears the voice of a dead woman.
"I'm taking you back Naruto, no matter how many times you kill me."
He breathes a sigh of relief. Though he intended to kill her, he was glad that she was still alive. He turns around and notices that the seal on her forehead had disappeared. He had seen this only once before when Tsunade had unleashed the seal's power during their battle with Orochimaru. A regeneration technique that enabled the user to heal any wound during a short period of time, even a slashed throat could be repaired. She must have initiated it before the battle had begun. "Clever girl," he thinks.
"I killed you once. I won't be able to do it again," he honestly replies.
Sakura stood there, her mouth gaping. His voice, she swore she heard sincerity in his voice. Her resolve was cracking, old emotions threatening to resurface.
He could see the turmoil in her eyes. Hadn't he sworn once, a long time ago, to never cause her pain? But what good was his word now? He had vowed to protect Hinata and Temari, but they were both dead.
Feeling the weight of his grief, he gives up the game shinobi play.
No witty banter. No dramatic monologue. Instead, he asks a simple question: "Why must you keep torturing me Sakura?"
She could feel the misery in every word he utters, the profound sorrow melting away her cold exterior.
She was left bare to him, naked and vulnerable.
How she loved him still.
"Please Naruto, just come back home…"
There was no hesitation in his reply.
"My home is here Sakura."
His words crush her. She wants to break down and weep at her loss, but she is shinobi. She cannot give in to her pain. Finding strength, she straightens her spine, her eyes meeting his.
She speaks, issuing her proclamation. "Uzumaki Naruto, you are hereby ordered to return to the Hidden Leaf village."
Naruto doesn't respond. Instead, he turns around and begins to walk back home. Before Sakura can call out again, he responds.
"I'm retired Sakura, I don't take orders anymore."
Her response stuns him. He can feel his heart beginning to ache. Her words are daggers to his soul.
"Even if it's the final request of the Hokage?"