"THE SWORD OF LOVE AND ENDURANCE"
"OYYYYYEE!"
"HURRY!"
"C'mon guys!"
"YO!"
The exuberance of children boomed all throughout the streets of Konoha. Their noises bloomed a secure warmth in the hearts of those who knew. The future of Konoha began with them after all. Most forget, to every beginning, there is an end…
"Hai! Hikagare! Sorry—I'm late!" The young boy bowed in mock apology. Hikagare laughed along.
"Ayay…don't make it a habit Ito!" The two enjoyed a hearty chuckle together before heading off, side by side, comrades…friends…
"Sayami-chan! I'm not late am I?!" The young boy looked towards his hopeful beau in anticipation. She smiled. "YATA!"
"Hahahah!" Sayami giggled at his antics. "Mizuro-kun, calm down. Save your energy! Hahahah!"
The couple locked arms, fumbling slightly as they acquainted themselves with this new gesture of play, and walked off towards their destination.
"Phewwww! Yara~yara! ~Ayeeee! I'm beat…Finally—time to head home!" The Worn-Out One stood tall, renewed with the hope of his destination, and began a trek towards his house.
Soon, the exuberance became a dead echo of what once was. Nobody remained. Nobody…except one.
Uzumaki Naruto.
Sun-kissed hair, sprawled in a mess upon his head, a soft nose, round cheeks marred with whiskery strokes—3 on each side—and a toothy grin; and the loneliest pair of eyes, sunken with the dullest blues. He was unlike the others. No friends. Not a chance in hell at love. No home…He didn't have a destination.
He sat upon a cheap swing, left abandoned to the shade of a few trees, overlooking the shining Ninja Academy of Konohagakure. The swing was held together by a rope whose thread was slowly losing its tie, and its seat made with a splintered, wooden 2x4. He didn't swing. He was never sitting on the damn thing for the thrill of it. He was alone.
Naruto observed every child and every parent. He saw the sight of their happy faces as they were collected into the arms of their guardians. He felt envy. Felt pain. Hate. He wished for that one thing, and he'd made it easy for his so-called "Kami" to fulfill. He broadened his wish as far as his desire stretched. Perhaps it was desperation. He didn't yearn for family or for friends, nor for a romance of the ages. All he wished for…was a destination. To go somewhere. To belong somewhere? To be home. To be…Everywhere. The word felt appropriate. Everything about it felt right, from the idea to the way it rolled off the tongue. He might not have truly known what he wanted, but perhaps the answer was hidden in the everywhere…
Blink.
He swung his legs off the swing. Dusted his pants. Shoved his hands in his pockets and began a slow trek to nowhere.
Perhaps it was never companionship he was searching for, but definition. Being everywhere and in one place. Simply knowing his place in everything.
Lock.
Snap.
Naruto opened his apartment door and entered swiftly. He shut the door, twisted the lock and collapsed on his bed. He thought for as long as he had left of the day, about tomorrow. Stared at his ceiling all the while as he painted his feelings upon the decaying drywall.
About time to ask Jiji for a reno.
He fumbled with his right hand, stretched towards his side reaching for something; he kept his eyes on the ceiling.
…
Found it.
He pulled his hand back, raised it up above—in front of him—and held it before his eyes. It was a kunai—oddly shaped—three prongs, slightly heavier than your market variety, and the blade held an intricate set of markings upon it's short handle: The Sword of Endurance and Love. The Fourth Hokage's blade of choice; his deadliest weapon.
He groggily sat up on his bed. Looked up, towards his front, found a tall mirror propped up against a wall resting on the floor. He examined his own reflection—every inch of himself and where he was. He spun the kunai in a cool manner then gripped it tight. He looked deadly. He saw something he knew he could always hold onto: the spitting image of his beloved Hokage in him. The Saviour. He grinned at himself.
Don't get too full of yourself, Naruto.
He rose from his bed and prepared for dinner and bed. Tomorrow was the big day: Final Exams! He needed to be well rested, which, giving his internal anticipation, was proving slightly impossible. His fingers shook slightly and his hands wavered. Nerves. A day early, he thought. He put it as far back as his mind stretched and went on, preparing a cup of ramen—only the finest in nutrition and health for him; well, of course, only after he threw in a few vegetables—then a glass of milk and off to bed. No practice, no training. Best to save all his energy, he thought.
Naruto awoke to the sound of the early birds chirping. He yawned and stretched exaggeratedly as he arose, rubbed his eyes, turned to look at his clock. Huh…beat the alarm. He switched it off to save himself the headache of an impending blaring, ringing noise not less than a few minutes away.
He swung his legs off his bed and stood upright, completing his stretch along with an additional yawn. He looked across the room into that same mirror he always did, caught his own reflection—smirked. Today's the day!
CLANG!
In a beat he caught the piece of toast on his way out, stuffed securely between his teeth. He grabbed his jacket from off the couch and threw it on as he went. He elected the more scenic route out of his apartment…AKA: the window. He took a leap, and began a rhythm. Felt the wind through his hair. Paused every other building to grab a bite of toast in between. He was on his way to live out the most important moment in his entire life: final examinations…he'd get it this time. He chuckled half-heartedly in his head as he reflected on the fact of the matter. Third time's the charm…right?
"NEXT! Uchiha Sasuke!" Umino Iruka's voice rang out from beyond the doorways to the examination room.
…
"PASS!"
The door parted to reveal a nonchalant Sasuke swagger his way out of the room, looking cool and without a care in the world. Deep down he felt a slight anxious giddiness, tinted with the edges of spite and mirth. He was a step closer to the truth. To vengeance. He was a stride ahead on his journey to stomach the reality of a Shinobi's will and desire. It seemed there was much more going on than one would imagine; a lot more than anyone could perceive at all.
Naruto sat in his chair with a nervous smile marring his face. His left leg bobbed up and down in an irregular step. A bead of sweat was close to forming itself above his brow. He peered out the window, down at the children in the grounds of the Academy, playing, "battling," preparing, learning. This was nothing. He'd come far. He breathed out a sigh of nerves and took a deep, long one of bravery, coupled with his regular, brash, every-day iron will. He'd make it this time.
"NEXT! Uzumaki Naruto!" Iruka's voice rang out a slight bit shakier. His hopes echoed within the call.
Naruto arose from his seat. He clenched his fists tight, walked down to the examination room, and proceeded in without a second thought.
"Yo! Naruto!" Iruka gestured the young boy closer.
The room held a simple layout. A table, enough for the two examiners—Iruka and his assistant, a fellow by the name of Mizuki—and a large open space, purposed for the examination's required demonstration of Shinobi arts.
Iruka observed Naruto with a kind glint in his eyes. He hardened his gaze, brought his elbows to rest upon the table, and folded his hands. He scrutinized Naruto more seriously now. Naruto stood unflinchingly.
"Hello, Uzumaki-san," Mizuki decided to break the silence, not to mention the deadly tension hanging upon the very air surrounding them. "I hope you're prepared. I wish you all the best!" Mizuki smiled with his eyes closed. It was a weird kind of smile.
Naruto gazed at Mizuki. "I've been waiting for today," he said.
"As have we," Iruka said. He finally broke a bit of a smile. "As your teachers, we await the day you'll show us the skills we spent months instilling within you. And I've taught you all I can Naruto. I wish you the very best. I have complete faith in you."
Naruto's eyes widened slightly. He didn't seem to expect the boost of confidence from Iruka. He couldn't let the man he'd come to regard very closely down. Not today. "I'm ready," was all he said.
"Then you may begin," Iruka uttered with only a smile upon his face. "The rules remain the same. The techniques. The requirements. Show us how you've grown Naruto-kun."
Naruto focused himself. Took another deep breath, let it out slow. Closed his eyes, found his centre.
Blink.
Chakra surged for a mere second. Naruto raised both hands and clasped them tightly together, one stacked upon the other. A single seal.
"Henge no Jutsu!"
POOF!
The spitting image of the Fourth Hokage stood before their very eyes. Gone was Naruto's blinding orange. His haori fluttered dramatically against virtually a room with no breeze or gust of wind. Flames licked the bottom of the fabric, fluttering along as well. He let out a breath and pierced the two proctors with a cold glance—then smiled.
"Very good, Naruto-kun! But I'm afraid I'll have to put a note in—your hair is a tad short. The Fourth had longer sides. Otherwise, brilliant!"
POOF!
Back was Naruto. He seemed a slight bit winded by the substandard jutsu, and a bit crestfallen, though he didn't allow it to seat itself upon his visage for longer than a moment. He smirked a bit. "Ah, sorry Iruka-Sensei."
"Give it some more practice, alright?"
"Will do."
"Alright, moving on. Your choice. What's next?"
Naruto nodded and reached into his shuriken pouch. He retrieved a single, slightly weighted item. He brought it forward, tight within his grip, then struck a pose. The smirk never left his face, even as Iruka and Mizukis' expressions fell a little wide, kinda like jaw-dropping to the table type. They couldn't believe their eyes for a moment.
Within his right hand grip, Naruto held that same kunai knife. The Yondaime's treasured blade. The two proctor's had only heard stories of the great many feats that knife had accomplished, or helped to at least. It was said, the man himself, the Yondaime Hokage, had single handedly ended the entire war with a barrage of kunai and a…Yellow Flash!
Naruto spun the blade about his finger, dancing it along each member of his hand. Enough with the theatrics. Showtime. He chucked the blade across the room, straight ahead—between the two wide-eyed men. All they saw was a—
"Yellow Flash!" Iruka shouted.
Naruto stood behind the two men, within reach. "Thanks for the compliment, Sensei. But not exactly…" Naruto chuckled slightly awkwardly. "Kawarimi."
Iruka's eyes widened once again and he searched across the room for the kunai, indicating proof of the switch. He saw it, planted deep within the floorboards of the classroom, a ring of smoke barely lingering around it.
"Well done, Naruto!" He dropped the pleasantry in his enthusiasm for the boy. An ear splitting smile rested upon his face with ease.
"Y-yes, Naruto-san, w-well done!" Mizuki stuttered out. He seemed caught off guard especially, but there was something else in his voice. He'd expected…less?
"And now I'll finish it with this!" Naruto shouted with full exuberance. "Bunshin no Jutsu!"
And another pop pierced the air, followed by a simulation of smoke filling the surrounding air.
Two identical Naruto's stood opposite each other with that same devilish smile marring their faces. Iruka mirrored the expression for once. Mizuki remained frozen in his ever-growing astonishment. Both student and teacher—their eyes locked—there was an acknowledging look in their shared glance. They knew.
…
"PASS!"
"YATAAAAA!"
The door burst open, and practically Naruto along with it. A smile so wide rested neatly upon his visage. He was happy for the very first time in a long time. He pranced around the classroom yelling out dialogues and quips of his greatness and kissed his luck a million times through the air. He even jumped upon his teacher's desk, took off his jacket and spun it around a few times. For extra luck…
Iruka and Mizuki exited the examination room to observe the spectacle. Iruka smiled lightly and allowed the slightest chuckle to escape. Then a little something caught his eye. It caught Mizuki's too.
"Naruto!" Iruka shouted over the boy's over-enthusiastic celebrations.
Naruto stopped the minute he heard his Sensei's tone. He leapt off the table and looked straight towards the older man. He bowed low. "I-I apologize, Sensei! I just got a little too excited…"
Iruka ignored Naruto's apology completely. He walked a little closer to the boy. "Uzumaki Naruto! What is that on your arm!?" Iruka sounded furious.
The entire class were at the edges of their seats. This was a scene worth observing. Some watched for gossip, others for the pure pleasure of discrimination, torture, and just stupid fun. Only one out of concern; only one out of pity; and only one out of curiosity. There was another, but that one felt fear for the boy before he'd known it.
Naruto immediately looked down towards his arms: black markings, intricately laced around his right wrist…a Seal! He knew what his Sensei was asking. Truth be told, he didn't no whether it was fair or cheating, though he didn't pursue that line of enlightenment. He chose ignorance, didn't he? Then perhaps he was guilty after all.
Uzumaki Naruto…" Iruka came closer this time, "I'll ask you again…what is that on your arm?"
Naruto hesitated. He looked towards his teacher, locked eyes. "I-it's a s-s-seal…" He broke eye contact—looked down—and flinched preemptively, anticipating a shout or even a strike—something! Nothing came. He returned his gaze upwards—Iruka's eyes bordered on tears it seemed. Perhaps a trick of the light. His fists were clenched and his body stiff. He let out a deep breath, then looked at his student.
"Uzumaki Naruto…FAIL!"
…
Blink.
Please…let this be a bad dream. Please!
Blink.
Naruto remained where he stood a moment ago. It was still the same classroom. Still the same students, still the same day, the same hour, the same minute. Only a second more. Yet it remained the same moment. Uzumaki Naruto failed the Ninja Academy Final Examinations for the third time running. Which meant…he would never be allowed to become a Ninja. Not of this village at least.
"Sensei…please…" Naruto's eyes allowed the tears to fall freely. He wouldn't—couldn't—hide today. It didn't matter how many eyes were watching. It didn't matter that he risked becoming a mockery or a dead last or a sad joke. It mattered that he had lost everything in a single moment. He'd lost it all because of a poorly scrawled mark on his wrist that wasn't even of his own making. He felt ashamed of everything he represented in that moment. A cheater. A plagiarist. A shortcut hero. A boy. Not a Ninja.
Iruka did not allow his resolve to shatter. He reeled back his pity, his concern, his desire, and his hopes. He represented what it meant to be a Ninja, and Naruto was not fit for that title today. "You fail, Naruto."
"Iruka-Sensei," Mizuki interrupted, "Perhaps you're being a bit harsh, don't you think?" Gain the boy's trust—then break it along with him, he thought ominously. That slippery little snake-fu# $!
"No, Mizuki-Sensei, I am doing what's necessary. I'm not foreign to the art of Fuuinjutsu. I recognize that Seal and its purpose. I also recognize that that art is neither a subject taught at this Academy, nor is it a doodle any Genin wanna-be is capable of accomplishing."
"Sensei, I still believe we shouldn't make any assumptions. I read his file. This is his third year running. He won't have another and you know it."
Naruto observed the discussion amongst colleagues with an owlish scrutiny. He didn't know Mizuki well. The man assisted Iruka this year around. He'd seen him only in passing through the corridors of the Academy every so often. Otherwise, as far as he'd known, the man was simply another Shinobi of the village. He'd seen him reporting mission statements briefly before being escorted out of the Hokage's offices. He hoped perhaps this unexpected well-wisher of his managed to sway Iruka's mind.
"Third year or not, the rules are the rules. This isn't skipping class or cheating on a quiz; this is serious."
"Maybe we should take this back into the examination room?"
Iruka sighed. He looked around—every student was raptly observing—there was no point now. They'd have their ears to the doors either way. "It wouldn't matter. Naruto, I'm sorry but this is on you, son."
All of the sudden a student's voice squeaked out from within the rows of seats above: "S-Sensei…as p-per the r-rules of the e-examin-nation…s-students are p-permitted the use of N-Ninja Tools…"
Iruka searched for the owner of said voice. Hyuuga Hinata. "Yes, Miss Hinata, you are correct. And your point is?"
Hinata fumbled in her seat. She fidgeted before sitting up a little straighter. "U-uhm…Sensei…m-my p-point is…F-Fuuinjutsu is o-one such t-tool."
"I'm afraid you're wrong," Iruka said. He didn't miss a beat. She didn't understand. "Naruto-kun, front and centre please." He took a deep breath. This wasn't a joke. Naruto could endanger his entire team with tricks like these.
Naruto simply obliged, no questions asked.
"Thank you," Iruka said. "Now, could you please demonstrate the Clone Jutsu for the class please?" Phrased as a question, meant as an order.
"Hai!" Naruto uttered. He focused. Brought all of himself together, put everything into a single thought: that mark on his hand. He stacked his hands once more, like in the examination room, and channeled the chakra he would need to execute the technique. NOW! he thought.
"Bunshin no Jutsu!"
POOF!
Two Naruto's stood parallel to each other. For some reason, he felt double the amount of scrutiny.
"OOUUUUHH! Naruto can make a perfect clone!" Inuzuka Kiba yelled somewhere from the left quadrant of the ever growing classroom. "AWESOME! NARUTO!" He shot him a double thumbs up. Iruka seemed a bit ticked off about that gesture.
"No—not 'awesome' as you put it, Inuzuka-san. In fact, Naruto failed to perform the jutsu."
Kiba rose a little out of his seat, hoping to distinguish the facts. It was painful to watch.
"Naruto-kun—deactivate the technique and do it again. Please." he added.
"Hai!"
POOF!
Smoke dispersed. Naruto refocused his chakra. Brought his together in that same pose.
"Bunshin no Jutsu!"
POOF!
Smoke regathered, swirled and mixed with the leftovers of the dispersed. There stood…a single Naruto. There was not a clone in sight…
There, beneath Iruka's feet, laid a deathly looking Naruto. The technique had failed.
The entire class nearly tipped their seats in effect to the sudden failure.
"…Fail…" Iruka muttered in barely a sharp whisper.
A few beads of sweat rolled down Naruto's forehead, trailing down to the tip of his nose, some halted by his eyelids. He knew he didn't have enough chakra for it. The seal was too wild. Not so long ago it seemed like a godsend to him. It did the Jutsu for him but he couldn't control how much chakra—it didn't matter. He should've never inked it into his arm to begin with. He'd done his very best but he was a failure after all, it would seem.
"Demonstration over," Iruka said. "Uzumaki Naruto, you may take your exit."
It was beginning to irk Naruto the way Iruka would suit up his formalities so suddenly. He was more than just his teacher; and Naruto was no ordinary student.
Naruto turned at his spot and exited swiftly. Not a word out of him. He felt so hopeless. Didn't know what to say or do, how to save himself.
His pace rang a sombreness and he failed to see the thousands of eyes observing him in a heated silence, as if the air were smeared with hatred—he didn't want to see anymore. It was as if everyone knew something he didn't—like they'd hidden some sick joke that they all joined in on to laugh upon every so often. He felt alone; he just didn't know how he felt about it.
He neared his house soon enough. He wasn't too far off from the Academy in consideration to how the journey actually felt. He didn't even have the will to face Hokage-jiji with the day's transpired events. He was afraid of what he might hear in return. He wondered what he would see upon the face of the man he looked up to.
"You'll have to tell him eventually, Uzumaki-san."
Naruto turned on the spot—guard up, knives at the ready—searching for the owner of the surprise interruptor. Mizuki. Why? The only question knocking about Naruto's mind as he eased up his guard and continued walking towards his house just the same—perhaps slightly less sullenly. Mizuki matched his pace.
"Hokage-sama will find out regardless, but I'm sure you'd prefer to tell him on your own," Mizuki said. "I understand that the two of you share a special bond." He smiled oddly. "I'm sure he'll help you any way he can. There are plenty of civilian opportunities. You could ask for a special exception for entrance into Konoha's Police Department."
Mizuki fired off his list of suggestions and counters to Naruto's failure. Naruto merely heard him through one ear and cast him out the other. He did know one thing though, he'd need to have a chat with his dear-old Hokage. It was inevitable. There was another thought rolling around his head.
Naruto stopped at once. Mizuki trailed a few steps forward before coming to the very sudden realization that he was walking all by himself; he turned around and retraced his steps to join Naruto.
"Why are you here?" Naruto asked.
Mizuki seemed slightly taken aback though he'd known his motive would come up despite the young Ninja wannabes infamy for being quite the dense little knucklehead.
"Why are you here?" Naruto repeated. "I don't know you and you don't know me as far as I know…so why are you here? Why are you helping me at all?"
"You're my student," Mizuki simply answered.
Naruto cocked a single eye. "And you're my teacher. And we've been that for all but what? Less than a whole year!? Right…you're here because I'm your student. If Iruka-Sensei hasn't shown me any love for the past three years I've been busting my ass all around his Academy classrooms than why the hell are you?"
Mizuki sighed. Rumours weren't always true. The boy seemed a lot more curious than he'd believed thus far. "I'm here to say what Iruka wants to but won't—or can't—because of some thick stick of pride he's got shoved up his…" He reigned in his excitement and let out a light chuckle. "I'm here on his behalf if that makes you feel any better." He was taking a risk.
Naruto seemed to understand almost. He just needed a nudge. Just a smidge more. "Sure," he said. He wanted to hear more. Mizuki understood.
"We both know I can't change what happened," Mizuki expressed. He shifted his posture a tad, changed his attitudes. He leaned over Naruto in the slightest way. "Here's how it is: I want something; you want something. I help you. You help me." Mizuki paused, he'd just taken the largest leap. He would either hit a rock or grow wings, only God would help him on this one.
(Not God)
"I'm interested," Naruto said. He grew a spine all of a sudden, stood taller. He understood what was inferred between the lines. He wanted to listen. He had nothing else waiting for him, so he abandoned it all.
Mizuki allowed surprise to flash across his visage. It wasn't at all what he expected. Every bit of information he'd collected, every single thing he'd come to know over the course of the year about this boy was wrong.
(He took flight indeed)
"HAAAAAHHHHH!"
A bruised and battered Uzumaki Naruto laid spread-eagle within the centre of a forest clearing. The Earth around him appeared grazed and rough, as if it had been through a lifetime of battles and these were the lasting scars. Patches of earth hid by tough trees whose roots tripped any trespassers who might enter. His chest heaved up and down irregularly as he began to chuckle through his tired gasps for air. A smile as bright as the sun shone through the night.
Almost, he thought. He grasped at the blade beside him—it impaled the Earth beneath him—pulled it out. The Sword of Endurance and Love…That blade again. That smile. He flipped up, launching himself back onto his feet. He gripped the blade tight in his hand. He aimed towards the foot of a tree across the clearing—anchored his hand back and prepared to throw the dense knife.
"FOUND YOU!"
Naruto chucked the blade clumsily forward, completely missing his target and failing to penetrate anything basically. The blade landed smoothly on the ground and lay inanimate as it were. He turned his head, searching for the origin of the voice.
Iruka. "Yo—Sensei!" Naruto mock-saluted. Pithy. Still a bit of spite leftover from that test it seemed.
"YO?! UZUMAKI NARUTO, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!" Iruka shouted at his younger fellow.
"Ah…well, you see…I was just…practicing?" Naruto said. He managed to stumble out a few words, though he didn't exactly have an alibi at the ready. What was he doing? He scratched the back of his head awaiting a response from his teacher.
Iruka deliberated his response for a moment. Practicing…? He thought. He didn't expect that.
"Naruto, what do you mean practicing? That is a sacred scroll you're meandering about these forests in. It's no toy. It is a Hokage's right and that's that, son. What were you thinking?"
Naruto patiently waited as the man ran through his own musings out loud.
"Perhaps I was a bit harsh earlier…But this isn't the answer! No! I expected more of you Naruto-kun."
"I-I'm sorry…Sensei…" Naruto muttered quickly, "I thought this was the makeup exam?"
"What?" Iruka sputtered out. He was confused and this was Naruto's chance to save his own ass.
"I-I tried my best—and I d-didn't master any techniques but I can feel it Sensei! I'm this close!"
"Master? Techniques? Naruto, what on Earth are you blathering on about? Don't you know?!"
"Know what?"
"Hokage-sama put out a retrieval order for that scroll. He put a capture order on you. Don't you know what's going on…What you did?"
"W-what are you talking about Sensei?!" Naruto feigned utter surprise; out of all the uncertainties, one thing was clear, if the Shinobi life didn't pan out…
"Naruto, that is a Forbidden Scroll. How could you not know?"
"Sensei—I swear I didn't know!
Iruka pondered the scheme of the night. He couldn't possibly know what had transpired fully. Naruto was pleading with pure honesty—he could feel it.
"Naruto? I…I believe you…" Iruka whispered.
Rut. Disgust. Naruto lowered his gaze from his teacher's. He couldn't will out his deceit any longer. Lying to the man who trusted him, respected him, a man who never treated him any better or any worse.
"Iruka Sensei—"
"OHH Iruka! What a surprise—seeing you here!" Naruto was cut off…Mizuki. The young Chuunin hovered above the pair atop a thick tree branch. He rested one hand on the bark of the trunk—the other on his hip.
"Mizuki!?" Iruka shouted. His confusion seemed to resurface, perhaps a tad stronger this time 'round. "What's going on! I searched for you! Hokage-sama has given out explicit orders!"
Mizuki cocked his head to one side, deliberated a thought: lie or truth? He let out a deep breath. It was getting late. He was running out of time—he didn't have a choice but to end this quickly. "Iruka…" He paused. The time for talking was long past gone. "No comment," he whispered.
"Mizu—" Iruka found himself unable to complete his sentence as a deep pain began trickling out of him. His eyes flashed—blurred—he saw that Mizuki no longer stood upon the tree trunk opposite the clearing. Looked down—blood. Larger than a gash—larger than life…Death.
SHUNK!
Mizuki sheathed his blade, wet with blood. He didn't bother cleaning it. He stood a few meters behind Iruka. He didn't look back—not once. He looked onwards. Towards the horizon beyond the trees. Then at the trees themselves. He tried to separate the leaves from the branches. Tried to see the forest for the trees. He couldn't.
(Just a man after all…) Whose voice…? Naruto wondered.
"Iruka-Sensei!" Naruto shouted out in an explosion of a hundred different emotions. His teacher had just been cut down before his very eyes—slaughtered like mere fodder. It was…debilitating. He knew all along what would happen tonight, what could happen, every possibility, every avenue of execution, but this moment was more real than his entire life's worth of illusions and conceit. The man he called brother…
"Ugh—feeling never gets old!"
Mizuki and Naruto turned towards the voice—both on their heels—they knew this voice. IRUKA!
"Don't worry, Naruto," Iruka said. He smiled genuinely towards the young boy. "I'll handle this." He spoke with conviction. Every ounce of confusion had evaporated. Mizuki's deliberation proved too slow in the end. His decision was a second too late, and a second long enough for Iruka to make his.
Mizu-Bunshin, Mizuki thought. He hadn't removed his hand from the hilt of his blade yet. He stood rigid, awaiting a strike, preparing to battle his best friend.
CHINK!
The sound of blades clashing echoed around the forestry. It rang in Naruto's ears. He observed as the two men went toe to toe against one another. They matched every blow either one billowed forward. It was a test of speed and instinct. A split second to decide a man's fate, and for once such a heavy burden was placed within man's hands. (Run, little one, run) A different voice?
CHANK! SHINKK!
(I said run) Naruto ignored the voice in his head. So this is what a Ninja is, Naruto thought. No talking. No running. No empathy. Just kill. And kill. And KILL! This is the dream I've been chasing. He felt disgusted, then a deep undertone of rut pulled at him followed by an immense sense of guilt. Who am I kidding? I'm the liar. I was the one who did this. Iruka Sensei believed me. He saw something pure in me. And I kept on lying through my teeth. What…the hell…am I..?
Naruto was taken out of his musings as his eyes locked onto men's blades, grinding painfully against each other, like nails on a chalkboard, creating lights shooting outwards in sparks of fury. He lowered his eyes. Saw it. He strengthened his resolve. One shot. Please let this work. I don't know what I'm gonna do if it doesn't.
Mizuki and Iruka fought continually, each exchanging blades and hands every so often. Neither had landed a single hit. They'd grown up together. Trained together. Lived together for some time as well. It wasn't ever going to be easy. They bruised the Earth around them as they fought a true Shinobi's battle. This land was not built for war. It was grown in hopes of peace. For Prosperity We Stand—carved upon a tree resting upon the outer rim of the grand forest.
Iruka was not aiming to kill but maim. He still needed answers. Perhaps there was more to it than that. Perhaps he needed answers to more than just questions…and he still couldn't hear him through the blade
Mizuki grew tired of this battle. He'd entertained his friend through every exchange of fists and every clash of blades. He'd closed his mind off to his friend. Feelings were irrelevant. It was time to end things.
He jumped a foot back. Iruka mirrored his actions. Without another breath nor a moment wasted, Mizuki leapt forward, he aimed his blade straight forward—for his throat—thrusted ahead. Iruka observed the movement simply and rushed a hand forward to avert Mizuki's aim—redirect the trajectory of the blade itself. Mizuki simply abandoned the blade from his grip, allowing it to slip out and continue onwards. He let out a breath as the blade left him. He allowed Iruka to slap his hand, utilizing Iruka's intent to fuel his own momentum into a full spin, allowing a kunai knife to slip into his grip—hidden above his wrist, behind the cuff of his sleeve—and completing his rotation, though not stopping. He kept going. Aimed this new weapon for Iruka's heart. Iruka could not compete with the motion. He did his best. A hit could not be avoided. No room for substitution. He switched the grip of his kunai—the blade pointed up—and aimed to knock the abandoned blade off course. Shifted the position of his other hand—channeled a burst of chakra—he prepared to knock Mizuki's blow off target. Better wounded than killed. They both missed the part where a tiny blade intercepted both their paths. Mizuki did not allow Iruka's intent to mislead his hit rattle him. He kept on. He would gut him through. Where he hit wouldn't matter. It would all be a mess of blood and gore. There!
Now!
…
A beat. A few more. A trickle. Almost like…water. (That's not water) Blood teared down; like Mizuki's heart was crying.
"Mizuki!" Iruka shouted. He stood rigid in his stance, as he was, prepared to dislodge Mizuki's hopeful aim. The blow had never come. Somehow Naruto stood before him, and a blade now rested deep in Mizuki—he'd struck his heart. And all he saw was a— "Yellow Flash!" he shouted.
Tears streamed down Naruto's face openly. He locked eyes with the man he'd struck down. The man who'd given him a chance in some ways. He felt pain. Something felt different, like he'd snapped something deep inside. He felt like he'd done something undoable, perhaps not in the way that the old man had always taught him. A piece of his soul begged something of him in that instant.
Mizuki stood frozen. He could not move an inch. His eyes remained where they were, resting upon their target: Iruka's heart. He saw into it and felt unmoved. Felt pain and suffering and love and the deepest hatred. He could feel the cold metal burrowed deep within his heart. Chakra played poetry and he could feel everything. It was like an old Shinobi Tale told to the young hopefuls in the Academy; only this was real. He saw what his eyes did and felt what his heart did—and then he knew. He involuntarily coughed up blood. He felt his eyes droop downwards. He would die feeling everything Uzumaki Naruto had lived. Pain. Then everything came to a halt—all that rush of emotion stopped—and all he was left with was a sinking feeling…and even that vanished. All that remained: Nothing.
Mizuki slumped down slightly—fell forward immediately. All sign of life had vanished from his eyes. That spark of soul had disappeared. A resounding smack of impact echoed lightly around the forest clearing.
Naruto could feel it coming before it happened. Every part of him felt as if it had been ripped apart into a million pieces. He simply shut his eyes, out of sheer pain—or perhaps it was exhaustion—or the toll of murder. It didn't matter, and he fell forward, almost as if to mirror Mizuki. This time fate played it's poetry, beating the ground with the rhythm of a body—or two.
"Naruto!" Iruka broke out of his stance and rushed forward, towards his student. He felt a multitude of emotions erupting. Worry for one; anger and confusion. Pride. He saw what he saw, he was sure. Mizuki was a traitor and Naruto naive. But he saw. That Jutsu, he thought.
He went to examine the young boy when he retracted his hand. He felt such a shakiness and an utter disturbance run through him. Blood soaked through every particle of every fabric of Naruto's clothing—so much that it drenched his coat on top. Layers of red dulled in the ever-darkening skies.
Iruka wasted no time. He did not bring a body scroll with him nor did he have the Chakra or effort required to forge one then. He tied Mizuki's dead corpse to his back—strapped him in tight for the ride ahead—scooped Naruto up quickly from the ground, then leapt for the trees.
He held Naruto tight and close to his chest. Tried to maintain as much pressure as possible whilst moving. Mizuki's body flailed wildly—arms and legs and neck all rotating inanimately. The finest height of morbidity. Iruka's mind was exploding with a thousand thoughts. He found himself juggling them all at once. Couldn't answer them. He knew continuing to wonder would impede his speed, though he found that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep them down any longer. Everything was a mess. The night had become an odd episode of trauma; a haunting incident he would never forget. He needed answers and his sole source was dead.
(Call it fate or emotion or God—whatever. A question for a question…never an answer…always moving; never-ending. Time. Where did it end?)
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Sounded like water…He hoped it was this time.
Blink.
He opened his eyes. Where am I? he thought. He blinked away the blurriness plaguing his sight momentarily, as with any awakening; you had to catch sight. He felt the ground beneath his back. Felt the water all around him—at least it felt like water. He laid in a pool of liquid, extending up to his ears—he laid semi-submerged. Halfway there. Where am I? he asked again.
He sat up slightly, looked around. Kept looking. Couldn't see the walls. Fell back to his back. Leaned his head back, dunking his head in the water slightly more than it already was, peered behind him. He saw a brightness emanate. A glint. He rolled onto his belly quick, prone to the floor. He'd allowed his other half submersion indirectly; technically.
Large pillars erected from the ground. He couldn't tell what they were made of. There was no end to them. They extended forever—horizontally and vertically—equal in share. There was a middle, he could tell—well, he assumed. The pillars came to a meeting point, where a large paper-like sheet rested smack upon two connecting structures.
He could feel something deeper…beyond those pillars…he peered closer, straining his eyes to their limit.
He swore he saw a beat or a flash of something scarlet. It was beautifully dark. He almost chased it. It was as if he wanted to see more. He waited; nothing came. Not another flash or even a beat of existence. He felt disappointment. The feeling felt familiar. So did the colour.
Where am I?
(Nowhere) Where did that voice come from? And then he felt anger, except it was not his own. Yet it felt real. In fact, this felt real. THIS. This wasn't nowhere. He was somewhere.
(This is what you make of it. This is everything that you choose to make it)
Everything?
…
Where am I?
(Everywhere)
The water began to move. It looked like evaporation; or had his entire world been turned upside down? Perhaps just his mind. The water trickled upwards, a momentous gravitational defiance. This water belonged to Naruto just as much as those pillars stretching through infinity. He had an uneasy feeling that should he want, he could bend those bars apart—mend something broken by breaking something whole; perhaps that was balance.
All of a sudden he felt his heart beat…faster…and faster…and faster! He jerked slightly—stood upright instantly. He grabbed his chest and began huffing hard. Panic. Disorder ruled. It showed. Everything became rain, upwards and downwards—and he was caught in the middle of flow—right dead centre.
Naruto felt a slight tug, then the strongest pull, then the fleeting urge to tie a chain to himself and the bar and to bind himself to this place forever. He allowed that thought to flee out of the fear that remained in his unknowing of this Everywhere.
Breathe, he thought to himself. He'd gone from heaving his chest to choking up nothingness. Drowning in thought. He thought to become something strong enough to hold all the water, but there was…nothing. He could become the cup but break. Become the jug, but what would he have worth pouring out? Nothing worth giving. This water could never quench a man's thirst, only induce frenzy. Perhaps then, the answer was never to hold it in, but to let go.
Naruto shut his eyes and stopped trying to breathe…and just let go…
From a distance he peeled away from this Everywhere; up close he perspired that same water—and he felt it: energy. Before he could acknowledge or even completely register that feeling—before he could choose—he burst, like a bomb, and disappeared—upwards. Like a dying spark…
(…A Yellow Flash!)
Blink.
He awoke with a sense of urgency, and with every breathing sense of it, he was unable to execute his will. He found himself rigid. He sent a probe up into his brain…willed all his parts to move. His mind explicitly denied his movement. It might not have been him exactly, per se…more so his current standing—well not standing…
He laid in a bed—not his own—situated in the middle of a blindingly white room. The drapes were shut, disabling the white's blinding shine. He recognized the scents dancing around the room—that sterile smell of medicine and the musk of a thousand passersby—it wasn't a good mix.
He found himself cripplingly unable to move about. He risked willing everything into moving his arm, just a bit—he needed water. There was a glass and a jug on his bedside. He immediately collapsed back into his crippling posture. Everything hurt—like a bitch!
He resigned to merely his thoughts. He couldn't remember the dream…if it was a dream to begin with. I mean, it ended like a dream should. Should? Ugh. He tried to get a better look at himself—his entire body was wrapped in bandages, clean of course. As he continued searching with his only willing body part—his eyes—he spotted a silver sink, portable, lying in the corner of the room…filled with bloody bandages and bloodied tools.
Something had happened, that much he knew; but for the very life of him, he could not remember. He had forgotten the clearest moment in that dark night. He didn't even know for certain whether it was still today. He'd forgotten.
His eyes roamed about the room, soon returning to himself. He could not move—he had not the energy to do so. He did catch sight of himself though, a riddled expression marred his visage as his eyes skipped across his banded body. Every part of him ached; he itched beneath his bandages, even breathing began to irritate him. It was unbearable.
All he could do was wait…And think.
He wasn't left alone for long with all his thoughts. Sarutobi Hiruzen soon entered his slightly disheveled hospital room. He walked through the doorway swiftly and was not deterred by anything within the room. He skipped past the bloodied bandages and tools lying unorganized in a pile of junk upon a silver platter. He seemed to glide upon the floor, and his eyes held the sight of Uzumaki Naruto at its forefront. He stopped before the boy's bedside.
Naruto merely shifted his eyes towards the elderly man, expecting…well, he didn't know what to expect. Waiting, he supposed, for him to say something—anything. He didn't.
Sarutobi observed Naruto with a stern expression. He wasn't sure what he was hoping to glean from the exterior of such a broken figure, but there was indeed a mystery—gaps in the truth—he needed to solve in order to know his decision; the decision to either imprison the young boy or to induct him into the ranks of Konoha's Shinobi Forces.
Neither spoke for moments past. Sarutobi found a space, held a beat and decided: "Why…?" Sarutobi whispered.
Naruto's eyes shot away from the old man's. He felt shame. He did not answer the question immediately. He wasn't left alone long enough for him to know the truth himself. A supposition would have to suffice. "I…I was…curious…" The words sort of escaped him. He spoke his mind. He answered what he believed was the question asked.
"Hmm…" Sarutobi let out a deep sigh, folded his hands, and fell into the chair on Naruto's bedside simultaneously. He smirked darkly and the hint of a light chuckle escaped his throat. He already knew everything that would happen—knew what would be asked and answered next, and after that; the apology and it's corresponding forgiveness. Such were bonds, and thus went life. He needn't ask more. Just needed to make sure there was no darkness brooding beneath the devilish grin upon the young boy's usually cheerful visage.
"What are you thinking?" Sarutobi asked.
"Nothing—and everything."
"I know the feeling."
"I think I've always known, deep down inside." Naruto paused. The flash of scarlet he saw in his 'dream' danced across his vision. It wasn't just the colour that sparked the realization of truth in him. He realized he was more than your average boy after twelve years of being discriminated for being a monster that he was told had 'died' exactly twelve years ago. "Mizuki knew too somehow…maybe everyone does…and it's always only ever been me outside the loop."
"I was only waiting for the right moment."
"I don't blame you Jiji. This sort of thing…there is no…'right' moment."
Sarutobi waited for more; it never came. He turned his gaze towards the wall opposite him. "That sort of thing perhaps did have a right moment." Naruto snapped his gaze towards the man. "I'm sorry, Naruto."
It would not be Naruto's apology becoming fate today. Sarutobi had plenty left in between the lines, laying on the floor; simply waiting to be picked up and dusted off. He'd waited and waited and waited…that moment he spoke of—the 'right time'—seemed to elude him for every moment he'd shared with the young boy. Regret. Shame. He felt guilt roll down his entire being. Felt a shiver roll down his spine—probably the Gods up above. Probably the two of 'em…
I'm sorry: Kushina—Minato…
"Naruto-kun," he said with a sad smile upon his face. He regarded the boy with a deep insight. He still had a mystery eluding him. "I want you to tell me about the death of Mizuki-Sensei…"
Naruto's eyes shifted once more. He'd been watching with a rapt attention until he saw the brilliance fade within Sarutobi's eyesight. He'd lost perspective—again. He turned his gaze slowly towards the elderly figure. He didn't answer the question exactly. "I can't remember the way it felt before my knife entered his heart."
Sarutobi flinched, albeit very slightly, Naruto noticed—his eyes sharpened a little; widened a tad too. He continued:
"I could feel that he could feel everything I could…everything I was and everything I became in that moment. I'll never forget that coldness. Murder connected us in a way deeper than any human interaction I've come to witness. If only murder wasn't the only option…if only…"
Naruto was a kind boy, always had been. The concept of taking a life when all he'd seen were emerging, blossoming, new kinds, was far from view, it was such a foreign idea to him. Sarutobi recognized that conundrum rattling his brain from the inside—he'd seen it before in a boy with blood-red eyes—and he wouldn't make the same mistake twice.
"Naruto—as Shinobi beholden to a code, representative of honour—sometimes when perhaps the most ideal resolution cannot be reached, we must take a breath and move forward…even if that next step is a strike to cut down what stands before you. We are Ninja. We endure."
Naruto remained silent.
"And if you can convince yourself the easy way, it's not so much murder as it is survival. Life is precious. We flee to keep it, and when someone opposes you in hopes of snatching that life away, you must survive!"
The silence in the air screamed a deaf violence. Sarutobi leaned closer to Naruto. He rested his hand on the young boy's sun-kissed locks—they were getting longer—and smiled melancholically.
"You've grown so quick. You keep on growing. I remember the young boy still fishing for his dinner…I can see you there between blinks…feels like yesterday. You remind me so much of someone I once knew."
Naruto couldn't help but grin a tad bit at the old man's remark. He, too, remembered. His grin faded as did his sentiment. What happens next, he wondered.
"Jiji," Naruto began, "this…that night—tonight? Iruka-Sensei, Mizuki-Sensei, that scroll, me, the blood spilt…" He didn't quite know how to phrase it well enough; so he spoke his mind: "What happens next?"
"Ah—indeed, I'm sure you're curious, Naruto-kun. But it is about what happens now."
Naruto waited, surely if the old man had decided the moment, he'd have the solution…
Sarutobi merely slipped his hand beneath Naruto's pillow—Naruto's head bobbed up then back down as he felt him shift something beneath it—and he retrieved an object. A Leaf Shinobi headband—the badge of a Ninja true to any village. He held it up before the boy smiling all the while.
Naruto's eyes widened. No words had been exchanged. Simple deductions had been made—assumptions—and he'd arrived at the only possibility of such a visual token. He waited—didn't want to jump the gun. Disappointment came hand-in-hand with expectations and assumptions.
"Uzumaki Naruto—pass…" Sarutobi's smile never left his face. His eyes crinkled along with all the rest of his aged features. A true smile.
Naruto choked back his shock and the tears along with it.
"Tonight, you displayed the most valuable quality of any Hidden Leaf Shinobi: Loyalty. Nothing else matters. You protected and saved the life of a fellow comrade—you killed for this. What you went through, and the qualities you displayed are reason enough to permit your passage and promotion from the Academy to a Genin of Konohagakure no Sato!"
Naruto was awestruck. Sarutobi was slightly amused. He thought to jest:
"And I think we can both agree, your actions tonight were much more valuable than a Clone Jutsu classroom demonstration."
The two shared a chuckle. Then, there was a beat of silence that permeated suddenly. Naruto turned away. He returned his sight towards the man sitting in front of him and then towards that shining medal of bravery; that symbol of Shinobi-hood. He couldn't. He just couldn't.
"Jiji…" Naruto paused; he was hesitating. Didn't know whether to ask or not. "I know there's more…I know there's a million unsaid things about tonight. I know you know some that I don't and I know some of what you don't…I don't know what I'm trying to say. I guess…huh…loyalty…that's what you said right? Well, I don't think that applies to my actions tonight. I…I stole that scroll." It seemed for a moment as if Sarutobi hoped to speak but Naruto interjected. "I stole it. It wasn't anything but that. I bargained with Mizuki. I watched as Iruka-Sensei was nearly murdered in front of me…and I did nothing! I didn't show loyalty or bravery or any other qualities you presumed…I made a shady deal and flopped on it last second because I got cold feet when I saw what it truly meant…to be a Ninja."
Sarutobi patiently waited for Naruto to finish, and he regarded the young boy with his fullest attention. He allowed himself to follow every emotion and every beat of every word that escaped his lips. He smiled so sadly. Leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers through the hair he had left on his head.
"Oh, Naruto, you kind, honest boy. You amazing young man. I'm sorry you had to be burdened with such an uneven weight. But for all my apologies, I will not stand to deserve forgiveness, and I will not bear any of your apologies. You've done nothing wrong."
Naruto eyed Sarutobi as if the man had cracked a little. Here they were, alone, and Naruto had confessed to treachery amongst other crimes against the village. Sarutobi caught his look.
"I told you, Naruto." And that was that. Nothing more was said; and everything unsaid was heard through some whisper of a crack within the atmosphere surrounding them.
The man smiled at the young boy. He seemed as if he'd repaired something broken—but that thing he sought to repair rested in destruction; though they always say, demolition is the first step on the path to rebuilding. What was lost was perhaps found again, and reforged were those roads once more.
Hope was renewed. And a desire was invoked; a sort of fire.
Naruto smiled softly at the man before him, through the bandages and facades. He would not hide in this moment. After all, to live like this—hidden—was his forthcoming profession; he would face his trials of endurance for the rest of his life. This moment was enough to hold on to. Sarutobi saw it…saw him…for a brief second, stretched 'till the infinity his mind would allow…
He saw the real Uzumaki Naruto. And the sight of him made Sarutobi smile.
"I'd give you a hug, old man, but it hurts like a bitch!"
Sarutobi chuckled. "That's alright."
"Well…I was hoping you'd explain this to me…"
"Explain what?"
"This…my mummification."
Sarutobi roared with laughter. "Quite right, huh?"
Naruto seemed annoyed behind all the gauze and tape. "Right…I'm glad I've amused you. Seriously, old man, I've been trying to pull up a memory to match the pain but for once I've come up empty. What happened? It couldn't have been…Mizuki? I…took him down in one strike…I'm sure."
Sarutobi ended his fit of laughter and returned his attention to the question. He nodded; "Yes, you are correct there."
Naruto waited for an explanation. The old man seemed to be deep in thought.
"I can't be sure…but one should never meddle with natural law."
Naruto struck a confused expression before dwelling on the comment. "I don't understand."
"You will. I'm afraid I actually wouldn't be much help on the subject. What you're wondering though, it was that Jutsu."
Naruto nodded. "Understood."
"Good. But just for the sake of transparency, I would urge you not to use it ever again."
Naruto visibly shook his head, rattling his brain out of its' pondering. He turned his gaze towards the headband—his eyes pointed to it as his reference. "Hmm…so where do I—"
"The Academy; a week from now. 7 AM—sharp!"
"Hai!…wait, what is today…?" Naruto chuckled, slightly dumbfounded.
Sarutobi let out a deep sigh. "Monday…it's Monday, Naruto. Show up next Monday. 7 AM…sharp…"
"Hai!"
Flashes of blood—that ghostly shade of scarlet again; beats of a yellow—bright as the sun, just as blinding. He blinked once, twice, searched his surroundings. It was that forest again, those same trees, those same smells. He searched some more, found himself. It was not what he'd hoped for.
He saw himself under the shade of the trees, shadowed by a forest larger than his sight could hold, running through those same motions. That Jutsu. Again. And again. And again. A beat, then, the brightest flash of yellow.
He lost sight of himself.
Clashes of metal caught his ear, he turned around. The world—all those shadows—changed. He arrived back to that fateful battle between Ninja. Iruka. Mizuki. He felt all those feelings once more. That same fear, betrayal, guilt. He felt a stronger bite of regret wash over him. He shook his head as if the feelings could be discarded with such a quick and easy action. He knew where to look next. Turned his sights. Found himself again.
There he was, he picked up the blade, swung his arm back, launched the weapon forward.
He wondered why he arrived to this moment again. Found no reason. Continued watching—living the moment. Everything slowed down. His senses blurred, all sound felt muted, every scent erased, but he could see. He saw the small blade. The Sword of Endurance and Love. That Jutsu.
The entire moment came to a halt as the blade incepted the space between those two—Mizuki and Iruka. Then time came crashing down. The moment resumed. All he saw was a yellow flash.
He saw himself fall. Felt his own body react to the resounding thud. He felt pure dread fill his entire being as he discovered the missing piece of that night. Blood. Scarlet red, leaking out of his body. He could not move to help himself. Could only watch. The blood continued flowing out. Iruka rescued him from death, he saw. Though he was not transported alongside Iruka as he journeyed towards safety with his own body cradled in his arms. He remained trapped to that scene. His eyes glued to the surface his body crashed down upon. He saw a puddle of blood, the darkest shade of scarlet. He was pulled towards the liquid. He peered deep into the red, saw his own reflection shine back at him. A breeze triggered a single ripple. It echoed across the entire puddle and then he saw it…
Blink.
Naruto awoke drenched in fear. He scrambled out of his covers out onto the floor of his bedroom. He kneeled, bent over. heaving heavily. Droplets of sweat trickled off of his face. (Good) Best to let the fear roll off of him. He threw his shirt off and into some dingy corner of the already unkempt space. He threw another one on before climbing back into bed. His sheets were damp. He sat up on the edge. Couldn't sleep draped in those same sheets. Writhing around in that same fear.
Flashes of a dream invaded his thoughts. He held his breath in his throat. Gulped hard. He saw something, he knew it. What did I see? He couldn't remember. The thought of it sent a shiver down his spine. He shook his head, that same action, it didn't help anymore than it did the last time.
It was that Monday—the day he would finally be recognized. Not that recognition was what mattered or the point. It was his endurance he valued and it deserved to be seen; he'd worked hard.
Naruto didn't set an alarm for that day; he was already awake. The moon dulled, the sun rose, the stars faded into the background of the deep sea of the skies. Soon, a lighter blue tinted the horizons. He arose from his bed, virtually not having slept a wink yet still so full of vigour. He knew the future held much to endure compared to a night devoid of rest; he simply couldn't sleep.
Naruto headed towards his bathroom. A fresh shower and some sunlight was all he needed. He'd spent the night confined to his thoughts, and though that space extended valleys past Konoha's very borders, it was such a tiny place; simply perhaps because it was overcrowded. He turned the water valve towards the hot side, steam filled the tiny room, he simply leaned his back against the shower walls and allowed the water to cascade all around him; like wearing a stream, surprisingly heavy on the shoulders.
He hovered his wrist waist side and observed the tattoo-like mark upon his skin—although it now remained to be nothing but a mere black smudge of ink; he tried rubbing away the smudge that remained. No luck. He took to staring at it once more, even more intently perhaps this time. The mark of a conman. Proof that Uzumaki Naruto cheated. That he was a liar and treacherous. All those memories and emotions came flooding in at the sight of a mere smudge. He violently slapped the water as he turned his wrist away from himself.
I'm curious…?
He felt like an idiot. His curiosity nearly ended his entire world. What kind of curiosity was worth those stakes?
What stupid secret was I on the fringes of discovering? None! I always knew! I did! I'd always known I was sharing some metaphysical space of bullshit with a chakra-monster deep inside my head somewhere! SO what was the point of it anyway?
(That Jutsu…) (…to be everywhere.)
Yet where he found himself was between nightmares he had no choice but to simply call dreams; where he was was in a place without an exit, without a guidebook, without any rules, without any reality. Stagnant. He was dying little by little walking around in the silly little circle his life had routinely decided itself to be. He'd always felt this urge to just…move! And so he did…that night he did, faster than he ever had. That jutsu, it had opened the gateway to the Everywhere Naruto fantasized of.
Perhaps he'd lied about not needing family, not needing home, or friends…perhaps everywhere meant everything. He didn't know who he was, and he was far too young to wonder such a thing anyways. Yet he did. Why? He dreamt never of belonging to someone or somewhere, as his life had never shown him what that sight could ever look like; he'd only ever dreamt of the Everywhere that only belonged to him.
He always argued with himself—his good side versus his bad side—that his want of everywhere stemmed from never belonging. To rule and to live without fear of torture or scandal; to stop being that pariah of the world, and instead becoming the King of it all. Though despite the arguments he had with himself, both sides of him held an undying feeling that one day such a moment would arrive; one where he would have to choose.
He flipped the knob back, the water stopped running. He stepped out of the shower, grabbed a towel, dried himself off, shook off all those excess thoughts. He threw on his jumpsuit bottoms, tied the jacket around his waist—he felt too hot from the shower—and abandoned his empty apartment to set off for the first day in his longest journey…to be:
A Ninja.
"Or not."