In the summer of her thirteenth year, Haruno Sakura learned a few things about Uzumaki Naruto that made her fear for his life.
Heresy
Chapter one
It was almost funny how Naruto instinctively raised his hand as he interrupted their teacher, considering how he used to deliberately avoid doing so in class. She guessed that it spoke about how much respect he had for Hatake Kakashi. If it were anyone else, she would have thought it fear, but Naruto's bravado was big enough to bully his fear into doing whatever it wanted.
"Um, Kakashi-sensei?" Naruto asked hesitantly.
Kakashi turned to look at the young blonde, a slight frown on his one visible brow. With his forehead protector tied over his sharingan and a skintight mask covering the bottom half of his face, that one eye was really the only part of his face that could actually be seen. She used to find it annoying, but she'd gotten used to it, along with a lot of other things.
"What is it Naruto?"
Naruto slowly shook his head. "I'm tired."
Sakura could have heard a pin drop in the silence that settled over them.
One thing she had learned over the months spent with her team was that Naruto just didn't get tired. Ever. He was either at full power or he was totally exhausted and at the brink of death. There was no in-between for him.
…But now that she was looking for it, he did look unusually still. Naruto had so much energy that he usually fidgeted, tapping his feet or fingers, keeping himself in constant motion. Now, the only part of his body that she could see moving was his hair as it caught the wind.
Kakashi's uncovered eye blinked excessively, like he was trying to wipe dust from its cornea, but that was his only visible reaction.
"You're tired? Of what?"
Naruto's shoulders slumped. "How long are we going to have to keep doing these missions? It's just so boring… It's getting hard not to fall asleep."
Sakura's grimaced as she was reminded of the events of the past week, the seemingly endless hours her team spent moonlighting as farmers, babysitters, servants, caterers and in Naruto's case, a chew-toy. She repressed a shudder.
"Ahh… that." Kakashi's mask shifted slightly in a distinct manner that his students had long learned to associate with his smile. "You've grown up, Naruto. I was expecting you to speak up about this quite some time ago."
Her teacher turned his head towards the tree line and Sakura quickly understood that that comment wasn't just aimed at Naruto.
Sakura sighed wistfully.
'Sasuke-kun…'
The last Uchiha stood several feet away from the rest of the team, leaning on a tree trunk with his arms crossed over his chest and his head bowed as the wind ruffled the locks of hair that formed his unique hair style. His eyelids covered his eyes like blankets and his handsome face was relaxed, as though in sleep.
If she hadn't known any better, she would have thought him snoozing, but she had observed him enough to know that he was simply immersed in his thoughts.
The meaning behind Kakashi's comment was clear as glass. No matter how frustrated she felt about the recent dip in mission quality, she knew that it was only a fraction of how Sasuke must have felt. She was convinced that the only reason he didn't say anything is because Naruto had been keeping his usually big mouth shut, and there was no way Sasuke was going to break open the floodgates if Naruto of all people was still holding strong.
No matter how unlikely it had seemed back at the Academy, it truly seemed that the number one graduate really was taking his rivalry with the dead last seriously. But then… Naruto had gotten much stronger since then. The barking dog grew some fangs.
Oblivious to the undertones of the conversation, Naruto plowed ahead, grinning as he rubbed his nose with the length of his index finger. "Heh. Well, the old lady isn't like the old man. She's meaner, you know? Really petty. The old man was like Miss Izama's German shepherd, but she's more like Yamazaki's pit bull. But, uh, don't tell her I said so."
The impudent boy happened to throw a glance her way, but quickly looked away as he met with the full force of her glare.
Naruto still didn't understand that his words and actions reflected on Team 7 as a whole, no matter how many times she tried to beat that lesson through his thick skull. He was very inconsiderate when it came to things like this. He said what he wanted, when he wanted and he damned the consequences. Sakura was always embarrassed when he failed to show proper respect. They were a TEAM, damn it! Even if Sasuke didn't seem to care and Kakashi rarely did anything about it, she couldn't just let it go.
In the aftermath of Naruto's declaration, Kakashi chuckled lightly, turned away from them and simply began to wander off. It seemed as though he was dragging Naruto's good humor along with him, because the boy's grin was quickly slipping off of his whiskered cheeks.
He looked rather worried as he sought to clarify their mutual understanding. "Hey sensei… you won't say anything, right? Really. She'll hurt me."
"Maa, maa, don't worry about it," Kakashi said, somehow managing to come across as being completely unreliable.
To her, anyway. Naruto didn't seem doubt his teacher's words, even for a second, seeing as how he immediately snapped onto the next subject. "Then, about the missions?"
"I'll pass your request on." Kakashi slowed to a stop and turned his head back towards them. "Oh, and don't bother showing up tomorrow. I won't be able to make it, so you guys can take a personal day."
Those words sent her eyes straight towards Sasuke, and her mind immediately started working on a plan to make him go out on a date with her.
"Oh, and no training. Do something else for a change." Kakashi's last instruction was clearly audible, sounding like he was standing just a few feet away, but when she turned to look he was nowhere to be found.
Which likely meant that he wasn't listening to Naruto's shouted complaints and that the boy should stop before he tore her eardrums.
"Damn it, Kakashi-sensei! Get back here! What kind of a teacher are you?"
Naruto had dashed past her in the seconds following Kakashi's departure and was currently standing against the empty space where their teacher had been, screaming his guts out. He was certainly putting a lot of effort into it, but he was clearly achieving nothing beyond venting some steam and annoying her.
"Naruto, shut up!" Sakura screamed as she stomped towards him. "Sensei isn't here and he wouldn't change his mind even if he could actually hear you. It's just one day, so deal with it!"
Naruto turned to glare at her for a brief moment before he realized what he was doing. As soon as he did, his head dropped and his expression crumpled into a pathetic pout.
"This sucks," he mumbled and petulantly kicked the ground, throwing up a small shower of dirt and grass.
Sakura was about to berate him for the pointless destruction of their meeting place when she noticed that Sasuke had shoved off of his perch and was walking off.
"Sasuke-kun! You're leaving?" she asked, feeling disappointed, in a last-ditch attempt to stall him.
"You guys are too loud. I'm going home."
That was the extent of Sasuke's explanation, but the look in his eyes said quite a bit more. His expression was tempestuous and tense, and she realized that Sasuke was just as frustrated by Kakashi's edict as Naruto, even if he had more restraint. The object of her affections was probably going to head straight home and train until he collapsed out of spite, so she watched him go silently, knowing that she couldn't make him stay.
…but she couldn't let go of the idea that he might have stayed longer if someone hadn't been so annoying.
"Nice going, Na—" She cut herself off. He wasn't there.
"Where did he…" she looked around and found him a ways away, stomping off with his hands shoved in his pockets.
Sakura sighed and decided to head home. Tomorrow was going to be a big day, and she needed to prepare.
The glass felt impossibly heavy as the pull of gravity wrenched it from his fingers, sending it on a collision course with the wood beneath his feet. It struck the kitchen floor and cracked in a thousand places, cutting the air a thousand times in an instant with notes as sharp as daggers, and broke apart into a thousand sharp edges. Cold water splashed onto his naked feet, the shock of it sending a shiver up his spine, and just like that, he could breathe again.
His left arm slammed against the kitchen counter and was quickly called upon to support his entire weight, as his legs wobbled in weakness. His teeth clenched together tightly as sweat coursed down his face, following the ridges formed by his grimace.
"What's… What…"
He couldn't even recognize his own voice through all the pain and panic. It felt like his blood was approaching its boiling point, like it was all about to bubble and pop his veins like overstuffed balloons. His lungs burned, like he was being poisoned by his own breath. He held onto it for an agonizing moment, then gave up, exhaling until there was nothing left. The worst of the pain quickly left the stage, but relief missed its cue and was found to have disappeared.
His vision blurred and darkened along the edges, like he suffered from tunnel vision, and he was getting numb all over, losing feeling in his extremities followed by his limbs, the numbness spreading until he couldn't feel anything at all anymore. It was almost as if he was dreaming, like his spirit had left his body and could only experience the world through dull images and sound, like on a cheap television.
The image his eyes perceived suddenly lost all definition and melted into shapeless colors, and it took a second for him to realize that he was falling.
The cutting edges digging into his body didn't make much sound at all.
It didn't hurt either.
The boy landed badly, slamming into the ground like a meteor, bleeding off his momentum as he skipped along the grass and rocks like a stone on a lake's surface. The dirt was soft and moist from the recent rains, and he couldn't help but feel that he wouldn't have survived if that wasn't the case.
A feeling of urgency urged him on even as he skidded to a stop, lending his limbs strength and purpose, allowing them to flip him onto his front before they tried to push him onto his feet, only to fail as his arms struggled under his own weight, as if gravity had suddenly decided to bill his muscles with the fox's weight as well as his own.
His favorite jacket was tattered, dirtied and useless, so he twisted around and strained to drag it off, leaving him with nothing other than his ripped black t-shirt for protection as he threw it out of the way. Against all logic, the subtraction of that slight burden seemed to bring his total weight under the limit of manageability, as his next attempt to rise left him standing on shaky knees.
"Haa… haa… haa…"
The air filtered by the forbidden trees around him seemed reluctant to lodge in his lungs, but he didn't hold that against it, considering how flooded and uninhabitable they were. He tried to cough some of the fluid up and almost ended up choking as his controlled coughs quickly escalated into fierce hacking. Gravity took advantage of his weakness, forcing him down until he fell to one knee, wheezing painfully. Warm blood dribbled down his chin, and as he used the back of his hand to wipe it off, his sense of urgency flared up worse than ever before.
He didn't need to wonder why. His enemy had finally caught up.
He emerged from the shadows between trees, approaching like an old man on a leisurely stroll, with measured, unhurried steps. His enemy was naked save for a pair of ragged orange pants torn off at the knees and a set of matching accessories. A quintet of golden rings dulled by grime were wrapped around each of his extremities. One rested just above each bare foot, around his ankles, another was on each wrist, and the last and biggest ring pressed slightly into his neck. Blond hair, longer and wilder than his own, framed his enemy's face, but the lack of expression on his features made him seem more like a soulless golem than a real being.
The mere sight of his enemy was enough to stir up his emotions and rouse the cumbersome beast that was his anger. His lungs opened wide and swallowed all the air they could handle, and like a fool, he released it immediately, along with droplets of spittle and blood.
"Damn you, bastard!" he screamed raucously. "Stop looking down on me!"
His enemy did not seem to care about his fury or his burning need for respect, as he did not speak, did not pause, did not hurry. Indeed, his enemy's pace was unperturbed, relentless. It seemed slow, but prior experience taught him that it was as unstoppable as the tide.
His teeth clenched in frustration before he squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to relax, knowing that his enemy would not accelerate, just as he would not slow down.
"This isn't over," he muttered. This wasn't the end, it wasn't. He needed to believe that.
Precious seconds passed as he gathered his confidence, the belief he had in himself that had allowed him to survive until now, the conviction that he deserved to exist, same as everyone else, the certainty that he would become great dwelling within his soul.
"I won't let myself fall," he promised.
It was faith, pure and simple, because even if no one else believed in him, as long as he believed in himself, he could keep on fighting, no matter what he stood up against. As long as he had hope, he could always find a way to win.
And he wouldn't lose this fight. Not to this enemy, his enemy.
"I won't let you beat me!" he screamed.
The boy climbed to his feet and stared into the face of evil, with his passion bubbling inside him so that the touch of fatigue could no longer sway him, so that the grip of pain could no longer hold him. "I am Uzumaki Naruto!" he screamed to his enemy, and to the world. "I will become the greatest of all who will ever bear the name Hokage! I will not fall here!"
His enemy showed no reaction, but he did not care. His legs were bolstered by his conviction, and his fists burned with the fire of his purpose.
He ran, cutting deeply into the distance between them with long, confident strides. His enemy's approach did not deviate so he sent his fist out to greet him, backed by the synergy of his entire body, but he could only take notice as his enemy fluidly slipped under his fist and disappeared from his sight. With the speed he'd managed to generate, he knew that he would need several feet to slow to a stop, but before he could take another step his momentum carried him into an arm set at chest height, solid like a steel pole and utterly unmovable, and he folded over it like laundry set out to dry under the sun. His breath on the other hand kept right on going, and as his chest absorbed the force of his own momentum, he was left in breathless agony, completely stunned.
Warm fingers quickly dug under his shirt collar and wrenched him down, sending him slamming into the ground. The back of his head hit something solid and his vision wobbled and blurred, like he was seeing the world through a thick wall of water. His faculties were compromised and damaged, but he still managed to recognize the foot that was hurtling towards his face.
The boy gathered every scrap of energy he could muster and forced himself to move, rolling out of the way so that the kick wouldn't crack his skull to pieces. He wasn't fast enough though, and it still grazed him along the temple, shredding the skin and letting loose a steady stream of warm and thick blood.
That sense of urgency was getting unbearably loud, screaming all-out into his innermost ear and jumping incessantly inside his brain. The impact resonated into a pounding headache so strong that he had no choice but to push himself up onto his hands and knees just to get it to ease up a little.
He opened his lungs and welcomed the first breath to meet him in what seemed like an eternity with opened arms. He gasped and wheezed, but he breathed. An uncomfortable feeling swelled up in the back of his mind, completely unrelated to the pain, and he knew that he was being watched.
His enemy was looking down on him again.
He grit his teeth and climbed onto one knee. "Bastard…" he swore.
Naturally, his enemy didn't say a word and he was almost torn out of his mind with fury. No one he had ever fought had ever showed him such disdain, such disrespect, no matter how much they supposedly outclassed him. Not Zabuza, not Neji, not Gaara… hell, not even Orochimaru and Kabuto had dismissed him in such a manner.
No more. If his enemy would not speak like a man, then he would make him squeal like swine.
The fingers of his right hand spread open wide as if holding a bowl aloft, and the essence of his power responded to his call, gathering to the center of his palm. As his chakra began to pool and overflow, his left hand melded and sculpted it continuously, granting it a shape and a path to follow though. Countless swirling spirals of soft light, a contained tornado was born on the palm of his hand.
He charged, wordlessly bellowing his wrath to his enemy, with his chakra bullet, his rasengan, brandished like a poisoned dagger.
His enemy watched him come with the patience of a Seer. The expression did not suit him, discordant as it was with the innate fury burning in those beastly red eyes, set in a face that so strongly mirrored his own, whiskers and all.
His enemy was stronger than him, faster than him and more skilled than him. As a combatant, his enemy was better in every way, even if their bodies were identical. But he wouldn't give up.
He couldn't.
His life was on the line.
