Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story. As it says in the summary, this story is based off of the NaruHina fan fiction that Tallman0029 is famous for. He hasn't announced this yet, but he gave me permission to write this story to fill in the gaps time skipping sometimes leaves behind. Just as a heads up, one of the main characters in the story is a kunoichi who grew up in another village. I thought this could be an opportunity to ask questions and address some issues that popped up in the series. We only ever had the perspective of Konoha shinobi on everything, filler arcs/episodes notwithstanding. If there were ever any technical/philosophical questions you had about the Naruto universe, PM them to me and I'll work them in.
I have been writing fan fiction and stories for a long time, but this is the first set of pieces I have gone public with. That being said, I really appreciate all of the support I have received from you all so far. Tallman0029 kind of had to strong arm me into this, because I've had some bad experiences sharing my writing in the past (*cough* high school English teachers *cough*). I have quite a bit of this story written out so far, so as I go though the editing process I post chapters fairly frequently. If you have any questions, comments, etc, feel free to PM me. Also, as I said I'm fairly new so reviews are much appreciated. This is getting long, but if you're curious about my artwork, you can take a peek at it on deviantart. My deviant ID is the same as here, ponchoninjax3.
Tsukimori Seiichiro was a prematurely aged man of 35. His straw blonde hair was graying at the temples, even when he let his hair out of his top knot. Worry lines were settling into his forehead and at the corners of his eyes. He frowned when he saw the lines forming at the corners of his mouth, which he knew just made that problem worse. These marks of old age found origins in the many years he had spent silently stewing over negotiations and his ambassadorial work for the king of the Land of the Moon.
Seiichiro had no stomach for politics, and as such he was not one of the king's favorites. His tendency to never sugarcoat or to tell white lies kept him from reaching political power; however it was the one reason why the king kept him around. Seiichiro was honest to a fault. Another unbecoming tendency of his was that he spoke infrequently. He realized as he got older more can be learned from listening rather than speaking. It also helped that if a man spoke seldomly, people were more likely to listen to what he had to say.
Although his mind had steered him through more tough situations than his body had, he still remained stout and strong. Seiichiro was well over six feet tall, a veritable giant amongst men, let alone the scrawny diplomats he usually dealt with. He always wore his armor and carried around his eight foot studded kanabo, something that often ruffled the feathers of other dignitaries. No one will believe you are a man of peace if you carry on like you are going to war, they would say. Seiichiro response was always the same:
"No one is better to speak on behalf of peace than one who has witnessed war firsthand."
This was no way to make friends, but relationships had always proven difficult for him. He had lost his wife, the only person he had ever fallen in love with, ten years ago. Yukihana had been even more closed lipped than he was, and so she was the only person he had ever felt comfortable confiding in. He was the third son in his clan and was on bad terms with both his brothers, one for marrying Yukihana out from under him and the other for marrying her at all. His fifteen year old daughter, Beki, held just as complicated a place in his heart. She was the only thing in this world he held dear, and so he tried to shelter her from all the ugly truths of the world. However, all the travel his work demanded of them exposed her to so much worse than he was prepared to explain. This made it hard for him to have casual conversations with her.
Beki, the ever talkative, energetic, easygoing, and open hearted child made him feel that much older and more cynical. Every time she spoke of how nice the people of a village were, he wanted to tell her how cruel and prejudiced their leaders were. Whenever she talked of how beautiful the traditional crafts of a town were, he wanted to tell her they were all fakes; inferior dupes of all the great things that came before. He seethed when he thought about how he had brought a child into this debaucherous, hateful world. He hated himself even more when he caught himself buying one of said tacky trinkets for his daughter just to see her smile.
He was a spiritual man, so he prayed about it all. He prayed for guidance on the issues he represented on behalf of his king and his village. He prayed for safety for himself and his daughter on the long roads they traveled. He prayed for the soul of his departed wife and for the salvation of his own tattered soul. He prayed for that ugly world every night, and that he somehow could make a small difference in it. When he wasn't praying, working, or training, he caught himself talking to his wife. It comforted him to remember her and imagine the advice she would give him. Even in death she was his moral compass. That's what he was doing right now: talking to his wife about his latest dilemma while Beki slept soundly in her futon on the other side of the room.
"Something dark is in the works, Yuki-chan. The king has never asked me to leave Beki behind," He mumbled. He created a small blue flame in his hand using an illumination jutsu. He pretended it was her spirit flickering in his hand. He heard her voice in his head:
"And you refused. Do you not trust your king?" Yuki shimmered.
"I don't trust those in his court, and," Seiichiro sighed. "I told him I would keep her in the village I will be negotiating with. I told him if I used her as collateral they would be more likely to trust me in a large village."
"So you will just leave your daughter to the whims of the Leaf?" Yuki burned accusingly.
"I-I don't know, Yuki. For once, I don't know. No amount of praying or meditating or anything is bringing me the answer. I don't even know why I said it, to be honest," Seiichiro stammered. "It just came out of my mouth when I thought about Beki being left alone with all those vipers in court. I would rather get her an appointment as an apprentice to a weapons smith on the other side of the world than leave her there. They'd rot out all the good in her and turn her into a hollow shell."
"Like you?" Yuki smoked.
"Like me," Seiichiro sighed.
"The forces at hand are always mysterious and we can't always see where we are being guided, Tsukimori Seiichiro. Walk with faith and the world won't know you ever stumbled." Yuki said.
"You're right Yuki, as always," Seiichiro sighed.
"Go put another blanket on the girl," Yuki chastised, tiny flames licking his hands. "I can hear her teeth chattering from here."
Seiichiro smiled and snuffed out the flame with his other palm. He walked over to her, threw his blanket over Beki (whose teeth were chattering), and sat down to sleep with his back against the wall and his eyes on the door.
…
"Why do I need all this stuff?" Beki asked as she pulled the wagon of supplies. By looking at her, you could tell she came from the same stock as her father. She was on the taller side, with long lean muscular limbs. Seiichiro had kept her out of active duty as much as he could, so although she was in title a kunoichi, Beki had seen little action in the field. This kept a softness about her that other girls in her situation lacked. The other evidence of her absence from action was her obscenely long hair. It was the silvery gold that ran through most of the Tsukimori line, thick as a lion's mane and braided it reached down to her waist.
"I don't know where they are going to end up putting you up, and so help me god I don't want people saying we're paupers." Seiichiro glowered. The longer he stewed on leaving his daughter behind with the Leaf nin, the more he considered finding her a nice blacksmith to apprentice for. Some of the biggest nightmares in shinobi history had come from that village: Orochimaru, Madara, and Uchiha Itachi. Not to mention the damned jinchuriki they had running around like the town pet. All he could picture was Beki getting crushed under a giant orange paw.
"They're going to have food and toilet paper, I'm sure," Beki looked at the supplies. "I mean, bring a decent bottle of wine and maybe some rice. Anyone who gets upset over me using their paper towels is not someone I want to stay with."
"I just want to make sure you are provided for," Seiichiro said.
"Then take me along with you, dammit." Beki said. "No one needs to know. I'll camp out a few miles from town whenever you have to go in."
"The king will know, Beki, and I can't go back on my word." Seiichiro said.
"You're not a samurai, Dad, you're a ninja. Ninja are supposed to be all trickery and deceit," Beki looked at him slyly.
"All I'm good for is my word, Beki. That's part of my nindo." He explained. "A Tsukimori is where he says he is, fights where he says he'll fight, and always-"
"Stands his ground," Beki finished. "I know. I know I know I know. But I'm an Asou-Tsukimori. And their credo was a little different."
"Burn the ashes and salt the earth," Seiichiro smiled. "And run if you know you can't win."
"I remember mom saying it more like 'Live to fight another day and fight like hell," Beki corrected.
"That was her version of it," Seiichiro chuckled.
A silence fell over the two of them, Beki focusing on not overturning the wagon on the rocky country roads, and Seiichiro ruminating on how much a person is like their parent, even after that parent is gone.
"What if they want to hold me under house arrest in some tiny dank apartment with creepy old men watching me all the time?" Beki asked.
"Then you'll make dainty little curtains out of the bed sheets I bought you," Seiichiro said, his face deadpan.
"What if all they give me to eat with my rice are natto and nori?" Beki whined.
"Then I'll bring you lots of mint chewing gum the next time I'm in town," Seiichiro face cracked with a slight smile.
"You're impossible. You don't even feel bad about leaving me behind, do you?" Beki asked, pouting.
"I'm not left with much of a choice Beki," He looked down, ashamed of his disloyalty. "The King demanded you remain behind while I negotiate this deal and I worry of the intentions for you at court."
Beki looked at him long and hard. Admissions like this were rare from her father, so she relented.
"Alright, if you say so. I'll try to behave. But if they try to make me eat natto I'm going to throw a tantrum." Beki smiled.
"You have my permission," He smiled back.