Shisui leans over weakly and whispers in Itachi's ear: The jinchuuriki is alive. Kakashi hears Jiraiya's deep rumble: Focus, not all life is bad. Shikamaru's father strains against his chains to rasp: I'm proud of you, son. Far beneath the ground in the catacombs of Konoha, a thin pale hand grips a seven-year-old boy and softly mutters: Naruto. Your given name is Uzumaki Naruto.
Prologue
Kakashi was sobbing for the first time since he was a baby. Except this white-haired man wasn't his father, but Jiraiya. The big man was seated next to him in a damp and shady part of the forest outside Konoha, an arm around his shoulders.
"I failed them all." Kakashi bit out. "First my team, then Sandaime-sama, Minato-sensei, Kushina-nee, and Naruto."
He could hardly say Naruto's name. His sensei's son had only been a day old, had not had the Kyuubi sealed into him for more than eight hours before Danzo, the new Hokage, determined the jinchuuriki too dangerous and murdered him before Kakashi, Jiraiya, Shikaku or anyone could secure the baby away from Danzo's Root ANBU.
"The prodigious Hatake: a lonely failure of a monster. I should've done something, anything…I don't know what to do now." He muttered miserably.
"We'll grieve for a long time, Kakashi." Jiraiya finally spoke. "But we still have to pull together our focus. No floundering. There are still important people in the world, comrades that need our help."
They sat in the forest for a while, but couldn't stay too long so as not to raise suspicion from the new government. Jiraiya squeezed Kakashi's shoulder, and handed him a cloth-covered piece of cheese with coordinates and a time carved into the surface. "Remember, kiddo, our life is bad. But not all life is bad."
That night, in the remains of one of Orochimaru's illegal labs, members of the self-proclaimed Old Konoha met for the first time.