Title: Dawn of the Dragon, Dawn of Ambition

Fandom: Naruto: Burning Ambition

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Original Characters. An attempt at being epic. Violence, strong language, possible adult contact.

Word Count: 2029

A/N: And so, Burning Ambition begins, a saga with a suitably, ah, ambitious title. It takes place approximately 50 years after the current time of Naruto. Most of the cast is dead; ninja don't have long life expectancies. A few, though, still live, and will make a few cameos. Don't expect much, though. Mostly, this is about the newbies. I hope you enjoy.

Every morning, the Hachidaime, Sanada, would stand on the balcony outside his office.

There, he would watch the sun slowly rise from behind the Hokage Faces, seeing its light flicker and flare off of Sarutobi, Minato, Tsunade, Kakashi and, finally, Naruto. The former Hokage, and his teacher. When the sun's light splashed fully across Naruto's face, Sanada would always stop and rub the long, dark scar that ran down his cheek. He had earned it in the same battle that had earned him the position of Hokage – and taken away his dearest friend.

That had been ten years ago, now. Ten long years.

Sanada knew he was beginning to get on in years. He was still in his prime physically, and forty wasn't so terribly old, but day by day he could see the lines grow on his face, the gray become more and more present in his dark, thick hair. He would not last forever, he knew. That was a point fate had driven quite fiercely into his heart.

Someday soon, he told himself, he would have to take a pupil. Someone to rear, someone to pass on the knowledge the last Hokage had given him. Who, he was not yet sure. But as his eyes fell on the Academy, where he had graduated nearly thirty years past, he knew the time was coming soon to choose.

It would have to be someone strong. Someone wise. Someone with talent, and spirit, and the Will of Fire inside him.

Someone with the ambition to greatness.

With another sigh of weariness, he turned from the mountain and walked back into his office. Lifting the broad hat of the Hokage, he set it once again on his head and started for the door. He had missions to hand out, and he had a feeling this was going to be a long day.

Team 10 was due for another mission, and that was never easy.

Sometimes, Yobou would take the sun into the palm of his hand.

Born to parents he could hardly remember, Yobou had been alone for longer than he'd had family. They had been killed when he was very young. In war, of course. The Kouryuu were proud, mighty warriors, and there was no other way one would die but on the field of battle. But they had left Yobou alone, with only the fading memory of their faces and their voices.

So with little else, Yobou remembered their strength. He remembered their honor. Their pride, their strength, their desire. Their ambition. He told himself, in the times when he was alone, when he was young, when his eyes still welled with tears at the loss, that he would live to make them proud. He would live so his name echoed even into the world beyond.

He trained to be a shinobi from the time that he could walk. Day after day he practiced his taijutsu, his ninjutsu, until he was tired and bleeding and could barely stand. It was on one of those long training missions when he was still young and unskilled that a rogue kunai ricocheted from a target and gashed across his eye. He spent a week in the hospital and has worn an eye patch ever since.

Little time did he have that was not spent training. Little time did he have for relaxation, for quiet introspection. He was a warrior. The greatest warrior ever born, he told himself. The greatest shinobi. So until he finally graduated the academy, he trained and trained and trained until he had nothing left.

Once he'd earned it, he wore his hitai-ate proudly around his waist for all to see, and never took it off.

After graduating, he finally gave himself time to rest. Time to relax. He had proved himself, and could give himself a break. For now, at least. There would be time for more training later. He was twelve, and he had all the time in the world.

In his times of relaxation, he often spent them on roofs. There he would lie back and just watch the sky, watch the endless expanse of blue. The sky spoke to him. Made him feel at peace. Perhaps it was that it was in his name, a name that spoke of greatness. Kouryuu. Sky Dragon. He looked up at the blue sea above and knew that someday, he would rule it.

He lifted his hand and, smirking, wrapped his fingers around the sun.

But he could not hold it, and it slipped from his fingers, as did time itself. Yobou was slightly bothered by the thought, but closed his eye and began to rest. The day dragged on around him, in silence, in peace. But not for long.

"Oi, Kouryuu!"

Yobou's eye snapped open and he rolled across the roof, flipping from his back so he was crouched instead. A blade whistled through the air and struck where his face had been a second before. He drew one of his tonfa, weapons inherited from his parents, with blades that curved from wrist to elbow, and flicked it out, crouched on both feet and one hand. His eye found his attacker, and he sighed.

"Ginmaru," he groaned, mentally kicking himself for being caught off guard.

"Going to sleep the day away, Kouryuu?" Ginmaru asked, a sneer crinkling the corners of his eyes. He lifted his sword from where it had struck the roof and flicked it up so the dull side rested across his shoulders.

Zensei Ginmaru was one of Yobou's teammates, an antagonistic and arrogant young man. Heir to the Zensei family of swordsmen, he had a reason for his ego, the only son to a proud and honored lineage and a prodigy with the sword in his own right. His dark good looks didn't help any, with stormy gray eyes, silky silver hair, sharp features, and a body well toned by his brutal training regime.

His looks were not detracted by and possibly enhanced thanks to the scars that crossed over his chest, displayed proudly by the open black jacket and mesh shirt he wore. Occasionally, though, Yobou would see the edges of scars on his face, the bottom half of which was always covered by a black mask. He never asked why only those were hidden.

Regardless, Yobou didn't care about Ginmaru's breeding, and wasn't swayed by looks, good or bad. He just saw a skilled fighter, an arrogant fighter, a fighter who would have to be bested down the line. Ginmaru was not his greatest rival, but was a rival all the same.

"I was just getting rested up after that mission," Yobou said simply, rising to his feet properly. He stood in a loose pose, eye closed, weapon drooping from his hand and arm bent lazily at his side. To the untrained eye, it would appear he was totally unready. As he spoke, however, his empty hand was going to his other tonfa. "I wanted to be in top condition when I kicked your ass today."

Ginmaru snorted, flexing a hand so his joints popped loudly. It was one of his more obvious habits, and Yobou found it terribly grating. "You think you can beat me, Yobou? Come on and try me, then, little dragon."

Yobou was moving in an instant. Both blades were in his hands, his arms stretched wide, and they cut in a wide arc as he brought his hands forward. Ginmaru's arm tensed and his sword flickered forward from his shoulder, slicing down to meet the steel of the tonfa as they crossed in front of Yobou's chest.

For a moment they paused and then Yobou pushed forward again, lifting Ginmaru's sword up and throwing him off balance for a moment. Before he could react, Yobou's hands circled around and shot forward, the heels of his hands striking against Ginmaru's chest. He stumbled back, long locks of hair whipping around his face.

"Your defense is getting sloppy, Ginmaru!" Yobou laughed, twirling the grip of one tonfa in his hand. The blade spun in lazy arcs beside his hand. He bobbed lightly on his feet as he waited for Ginmaru to recover, and the two bells that dangled from the sash around his waist tinkled merrily.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Ginmaru said, running a gloved hand through his hair to push it out of his face. He flashed a grin, or at least Yobou assumed, unable to actually see his lips. "I guess both of us are half-asleep, mm? I guess you're just that dull!"

On the last word, Ginmaru darted forward, and he lashed out with his sword again, both hands locked tightly around the crimson-wrapped grip. Yobou ducked and weaved around a suddenly flurry of cuts, aimed at his stomach, his arm, his head. The last high slash whistled through the tip of his spiked hair, and he saw a few strands of dark blue waft down from the top of his head.

"I guess I am due for a bit of a haircut," Yobou said, lips twisted in a crooked smile, and his eye flashing golden glee. "Thanks for the favor, Gin!"

Suddenly he flipped his tonfa so the blade extended past his fist and his arm shot out in a long arc. The edge just barely scraped across Ginmaru's cheek as he whipped his head to the side, leaving a slender red trail. Following up without a second to think, Yobou's leg bent up at the knee and then shot forward, foot driving into Ginmaru's chest and shoving him back again.

The two stood in tense silence, shifting blue-gray eyes meeting brilliant gold again. Ginmaru brought up his sword to an attacking stance, and Yobou did the same with his tonfa. Both had iron grins and a manic fire in their gaze.

They moved.

Ginmaru had his sword held at his waist, tip pointed behind him, ready to sweep forward in a terrible arc.

Yobou had one hand drawn back, the other lifted as a guard.

They were ready for a glorious clash, a brutal melee of blood and steel, where only one could come out victorious.

And they were intercepted.

As they stood a mere five feet apart on the roof, a shadow flickered up from below. Before either could react, it was swinging something forward between them, hitting the ground with crushing force. A cloud of dust and fragments of the dull red roof tile flew up in the air, making the two rivals take pause where they stood.

In the cloud stood a girl, short and not particularly intimidating to look at, dressed in a baggy green sweater, unusually large belt, and a skirt. Messy red hair whipped around her face, just barely restrained at all by the hitai-ate across the top of her head, and her glittering green eyes went from one boy to the other. She stood up and flicked up her nunchaku so they fell across her shoulders, staring down Yobou properly before giving Ginmaru an ugly look.

She was Kagami Imi, and she was their other teammate.

"Come on, you bozos," she grumbled. "Eiri-sensei says its time for a mission, and you know she hates to be kept waiting!"

Little Details Corner -

In case you're interested:

Kouryuu Yobou – Last name is Sky Dragon, first name is the characters for Ambition and Glory.

Zensei Ginmaru – Last name is New Life, first name is just Silver with –maru as a name ender.

Kagami Imi – Her first and last name can mean Mirror and Meaning respectively, but would be written in hira and katakana, so there's no particular meaning.

Shinsai Eiri – Eiri, like with Imi, is written in katakana. Her last name, however, means disaster.

Sanada Hachidaime – Named for Sanada Yukimura, famous samurai from the feudal age known for his Sanada Juuyuushi, the ten ninja bodyguards.

"Little Dragon" – Ginmaru's nickname for Yobou is actually supposed to be a pun off of Yobou's last name, Kouryuu, as "Little Dragon" is "Koryuu." A pun, see?

Ginmaru's sword is named "Benizou," meaning "Crimson Hate." If you were curious. Yobou and Imi's weapons are nameless, however.