A/N: Just moving this over from AO3

Fox Fire

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The vow that binds too strictly snaps itself. ~Alfred Lord Tennyson, "The Last Tournament,"Idylls of the King

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Pain.

It's all he knows, his mind fragmented, broken, flashes of memories drowned by the all-consuming PAIN.

He drifts in and out of consciousness.

A flash of scene here, a snippet of conversation, the feel of someone else's hands on his too-sensitive skin, the smell of something sterile, Healing Chakra soothing his mind for just a few, precious seconds.

All of it is there, then gone again, faster than he can stand at some points.

He doesn't know how long he's been like this, consumed by pain and fragmented thoughts and sensations, but, suddenly, he knows he's not alone in his head.

Who are you? He thinks, asks, wonders at the presence.

Yamanaka Inoichi, it, HE, replies, voice firm but gentle in his pained, swirling thoughts and broken mind. Instantly, flashes of memory, of pale, long blond hair and sharp blue eyes and flower petals on the floor, flood his pain-wrecked mind.

Yes, Inoichi encourages gently, and he feels a thrill with the knowledge that he knew something. Who are you? Memories flash, times before the pain.

"When you wear this mask, you have no name," ANBU Commander was telling him and the two other new recruits as they knelt before him to accept their masks, their identities. "You are only your mask. You do not exist without this mask."

His mask is being handed to him, the snarling visage of a fox, and something bitter but ironically amused fills his chest as he places the Chakra-enhanced porcelain on his face.

"You are now Kitsune, and nothing more."

"Hai, Taicho," he replied, voice a calm monotone.

Inoichi's voice disrupts the memory, the most complete memory he's had since the pain has set in, and he, Kitsune, doesn't know if he should be angry or relieved.

What village are you from? More flashes, Hokage Mountain, a Konoha Headband, passing the Uchiha District when it was full of life, the Memorial Stone.

That's good, Kitsune, you're doing very good, Inoichi praised him gently. Can you tell me what happened? How you got hurt? Training kicked in, and all that filled his mind for several seconds was random series of numbers, dozens of ID numbers, pictures of numbers, page numbers, barcodes, points, children singing number games, money exchanges-

No, good, good, you're doing very good, Kitsune, I'm not trying to get your mission info, calm down, that's it, calm, calm... The images and memories died down, until all that remained was the subconscious memories the name Yamanaka had brought up, flashes of blond hair and pale blue eyes and flower petals scattered on the floor, as Kitsune waited for more questions.

Kitsune, I want to know how you got hurt. Not your mission. Can you tell me what happened? Flashes of memory reluctantly flew by.

Insane, furious black eyes and a bloody face snarling obscenities at him, as the S-Class Nuke-nin managed to grab a hold of Kitsune's face, thumbs pressing against his mask.

"If I'm going to die, I'll drag you to hell with me!" The Nuke-nin screamed, cackling cruelly even as Chakra-created lava erupted from those hands, and the world dissolved into heat and pain and the flaring of Chakra as Kitsune struggled desperately to get away even as the Nuke-nin died with a smile. Kitsune's abnormally large Chakra roared, the image of a fox flashing all around him, and then-

Darkness.

Good, good job, Kitsune, Inoichi praised soothingly, even though his voice was tighter, straining, as the pain resurfaced with a vengeance. Rest now, the Medic-nin are doing everything they can, you're going to be alright, understand?

Hai, Kitsune manages to think, before he feels Inoichi's presence melt away, and found himself ensconced once more in the broken flashes of his mind, which remained fragmented, even as the lightning-white pain dulled the smallest amount, letting more memories rise little by little to the cracked surface. All he could do was follow orders, he knew.

And so, Kitsune let his consciousness sink below the damaged parts of his mind, and rested as his body began to heal.

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Have a heart that never hardens, a temper that never tires, a touch that never hurts. ~Charles Dickens

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When Kitsune finally wakes up, he's in a hospital room, and confusion wars with broken memories.

There were no hospitals left, he knew. Only Medic Tents, where you could be patched up enough not to die and sent immediately on your way. War had no time for injuries, and those who couldn't be saved were killed quickly and kindly, to save the weary Medic-nin their Chakra. The last of the hospitals had fallen when the last of the Five Nations, Kumo, had fallen. There were no Enemies or Allies any more. Just the Shinobi against Them, the Destroyers. He knew this, had accepted his part as an assassin and weapon when he took up his mask, when he became Kitsune, and abandoned the name of Uzumaki Naruto at nineteen.

The War needed those who were willing to do everything to protect their precious people, not idealistic idiots who dreamed of being Hokage of a Village that had been gone for two years already.

Now, at twenty-five, Kitsune was simply Kitsune, and Naruto had died with the rest of the Rookie Nine and Gai's team. Only Kitsune and Shikamaru remained, and even then, Shikamaru had been maimed to the point of death by the time Kitsune had reached Madara's experimental Nuke-nin camp in a desperate attempt to save his only remaining friend.

Now he was here, and he remembered only fragments, more than before but less than he was used to, like he had dismissed a million Kage Bunshin at once and they had all been in different places.

"Ah, you're awake," a familiar voice declared quietly; Kitsune slowly turned his head, peering through his mask's eye-slits at the blond next to him.

"...Hai," was all he said, and stared at the blond. Inoichi had died years ago, avenging Ino's death just six months after the Fall of Konoha. The man in front of him was younger than that grief-stricken shinobi, but not much younger than he had been the first time they had met, when Kitsune had been sixteen and arguing with Tsunade and other members of the council during War Preparations.

"I am Yamanaka Inoichi," the man introduced himself. "We haven't gotten to meet before, outside of your mindscape, and then it was only briefly."

"...I remember," Kitsune informed him, voice hoarse and quiet, but monotonous and polite. (He remembered well the lessons of his trainers. The beatings and blooding and insults, as they all but carved into his skin that being loud was death, being noticed was death, and being insubordinate was death. He had learned, not as fast as some, but the lessons had stuck much longer than those who had learned faster.).

"That's good," Inoichi informed him simply, nodding his head even as sharp, pale blue eyes watched him. Kitsune stared back, before frowning slightly, remembering the fight that had placed him here. He lifted a hand, pausing to notice the pale, scarred flesh that, for once, wasn't hidden beneath his uniform gloves, before letting it rise to touch, gently, upon his mask. He could just make out the familiar bumps and curls of the snarling fox, but he felt even more keenly, the new warps and bubbles that the suicide-Jutsu had left, the Chakra-enhanced mask had survived to a degree, but, as he dragged his fingers along the seams, he came to the silent realization that he would never be able to not be Kitsune ever again.

It had melted into his skin, and only small pockets had remained undamaged enough not to be fused with his flesh.

"The Medic-nin were the ones to re-open your eye slits," Inoichi informed him as Kitsune sat with his hand on his mask for a few moments. "They also re-opened the slit for your mouth, a little longer and wider than it's supposed to be, but that's so you are better able to breath." Kitsune nodded at him, and then traced his hand up to dance his fingertips lightly over the horribly scarred, bare skin of his scalp, and the warped, new shapes of his ears. His head would most probably remain this way, he acknowledged; burned and scarred even worse than Morino Ibiki's had been.

At least he was alive to be amused by the irony of that, he supposed.

"The Hokage wished to be informed when you woke up," Inoichi continued calmly. "He should be here soon to debrief you." Kitsune nodded and slowly let his hand return to his side. The two of them sat in companionable silence for a little while, until the door to the room opened, and Sarutobi Hiruzen walked in, like a mirage from long ago, just as wrinkled and kindly looking as Kitsune remembered, with a core of steel and the Will of Fire glittering behind his calm gaze.

"Greetings, Kitsune-san," the Hokage greeted calmly, seriously; Kitsune bowed as best he could from his seated position, closing his eyes against the onslaught of broken memories that tried to overwhelm him, held back by training and will alone, as had happened so many times during the War, when grief tried to drown him or rage tried to convince him to slaughter without care for himself, Kurama's toxic Chakra attempting to unconsciously egg it on even as the Fox murmured soothingly in his mind, ever-patient.

"Hokage-Sama," Kitsune greeted formally, fist against his heart in the standard, respectful bow that was required of an ANBU to their Hokage.

"It is good to see you up, Kitsune-san," the old man informed him as he settled into the empty seat next to Inoichi, puffing on his pipe as he watched the scarred ANBU from under the brim of his hat, eyes narrowed faintly. "Though, I am curious about that, seeing as how the Medics have declared you all but dead just yesterday, and yet, here you are," he murmured around his pipe. "Wounds healed over as if you'd been healing for years, and not twelve hours." Kitsune remained silent, knowing where this was heading, but not saying anything.

"Inoichi informs me that you are loyal to Konoha, to your deepest level, even when pain is driving your mind to its breaking point," the old man said after a few moments of silence; Kitsune merely nodded, not surprised in the least. Konoha, for all the cruelties it had given him in his younger years, was his everything. When it fell, the rage and grief had made him into a monster, and, for a week after, he could be found murdering slews of enemy Shinobi without any hesitation, eyes fire-red and fangs barred, until Kurama himself had gotten irritated and had beaten some sense into him in his mindscape. He felt a vague sense of amusement from the exhausted presence in the back of his mind, and his lips twitched fondly at it.

"Hai, Hokage-Sama," was his only reply in the waiting silence; Sarutobi hummed, puffing on his pipe, dark eyes sharp.

"And yet," the Hokage continued conversationally, "I have no record of an ANBU with the designation Kitsune, at all." Inoichi had shifted slightly, pale blue eyes sharp, and Kitsune could recognize the readiness for an expected battle, and knew that, if he tried to attack or flee, the Yamanaka would be ready. He didn't move.

"Hai, Hokage-Sama," Kitsune replied easily, and continued to sit and wait; eyes on the Hokage as the old man watched him consideringly.

"Hmm," was the old man's reply, lips twitching ever so slightly. After a few minutes of pondering in silence, the Hokage stood and walked towards the nearest window, staring out onto the Village; Kitsune watched him, head tilted curiously, wondering what the old man would do.

"ANBU Kitsune," Sarutobi finally spoke; the command in that voice had Kitsune's spine snapping straight, shoulders squaring, muscles ready. In this way, he and the emotionless members of ANBU-Ne had a lot in common, for he had been brutally trained that the Highest Superiors Word Was Law. If Sarutobi ordered him to commit suicide, to murder thousands of innocents, to pretend to be a rabbit right now, he would do it without an ounce of hesitation. He instantly felt the sharpened interest and wariness of Inoichi behind him, and then the vaguely horrified realization when the blonde sensed his devotion.

"From this moment, you are ANBU no longer," Sarutobi announced, puffing on his pipe. "You are a Konoha Shinobi, and you will act as such. For the next six months, you will be under observation and on probation. If it is proven that you are no longer fit for duty, you will be executed, immediately. Do you understand this, Kitsune?" The now ex-ANBU bowed his head and once more placed his fist over his heart, mind already shifting and adapting to the orders, becoming exactly what was needed to complete his orders.

"Hai, Hokage-Sama." Sarutobi nodded thoughtfully, before turning to examine the man sitting on the bed patiently.

"You are also to report to myself once a week, and to take a psyche-evaluation with the T&I department once a month from now on. Understood?"

"Hai, Hokage-Sama," Kitsune agreed immediately, not too bothered by that.

"You will be released from the hospital today," the Hokage continued calmly. "Another Shinobi will lead you to a nearby apartment building, where you shall live until your probationary period is over, and you are able to once more accept out-of-village missions. Until you can support yourself, you shall live there." With his orders given, Sarutobi walked towards him, and set his hands on Kitsune's shoulders, holding his eyes seriously through the thin slits on the ex-ANBU's mask.

"I do not know who you were before your put on this mask," the Hokage said with quiet seriousness, eyes keen and edged with steel. "I know only that your loyalty to this Village has kept you alive, and that determination, that Will of Fire, will always be welcome. Welcome home, Kitsune," he said quietly; Kitsune closed his eyes tightly as the old man pulled away, and bowed his head as he listened to the Hokage and Inoichi leave.

"Arigato… Jiji."

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"Happiness depends on ourselves." ~Aristotle

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