"Stupid brat...even after all this time, you are still not listening. You cannot control my power. For one, It's my power. And two, you don't control it, you use it. There is a difference."
"Then stop talking at me, and show me. For someone of your skills and power, you make a terrible teacher. And throwing a tantrum isn't helping."
"Well I have to do something. How could I expect a lesser life form to understand something so basic? It's like using your arm, see?" Naruto felt an odd burning sensation and suddenly his right arm began jerking about, moving to and fro in a series of complicated movements before finally slapping him in the face.
"There we go again. Come up with a new argument. These 'lesser life forms' put you here, so they're not as pathetic as you seem to think. Being stuck with you all the time is no prize, believe you me. Just like a woman to complain, instead of helping me. And stop messing around with my body. Need I remind you, again, who ultimately controls this vessel?"
With that, Naruto bent his right index finger back, looking her straight in the eye, until a sharp cracking sound could be heard. The look of fury and utter rage on her face was almost worth the pain. He looked down. She had an identical injury on her right hand. She narrowed her eyes and hissed at him, before a flash of red chakra erupted, mending the break and snapping the finger back to its proper position. Looking back at his own hand, Naruto flexed it, all his fingers were in working order.
"One day brat...one day..."
"But not today. Shall we take it from the top?"
It had been four years since the events of October 10th, and supposedly the Village Hidden in the Leaves was healing and rebuilding, recovering from the Kyuubi attack. In reality, all the ugliness and horror of that night was not resolved, just suppressed and hidden. Breaking the Sandaime's law was punishable by death, and the citizens of Konoha liked living. But even so, assassination attempts against the container of the Nine-Tailed Demon Fox were all too common. Motivating the ANBU to do their duty took the patience of a saint on the part of the Third. Konoha's elite could not be motivated to properly do their jobs in regards to the Kyuubi's vessel. Dealing with the council was also an exercise in slow torture. Nearly every meeting seemed to hold some undercurrent about the boy. Do this about him. Do that to him. Exile him. Banish him. Kill him. Destroy him. String him up by his innards.
Where had this come from? Sarutobi knew all too well that the fox's trail of destruction had killed hundreds, shinobi and civilian alike. A significant percentage of the population had lost someone to the Kyuubi. But this level of venom still shocked him. Demon containers were rare, but not unheard of. Intelligence reports told Sarutobi that Suna and Kumo each had one, or were developing one, using one of the lesser Bijuu. The Third knew all too well that the ever changing playing field of tactical superiority would bring something like this about. Talented shinobi were always a valuable commodity, as were various powerful weapons or techniques. Kekkei genkais were precious resources. But those who held the Bijuu were the ultimate aces in the hole, and could stack the game in your favor.
The Third hated to look at Naruto like that. He had not been meant to be the weapon. He was meant to be the shield of Konoha, even more so than the Hokage himself, as he protected them all from a literal evil. But the large majority of the people would not have it. Was it because the Bijuu in question was the Kyuubi? He remembered the struggle against the Bijuu well. It had been the only truly hopeless battle he had ever been in. Kyuubi no Kitsune had been power given form. It was not a flesh and blood entity that could be cut or stabbed or blown up. They had tried that. They had also tried any and all jutsus. No luck. Leading the beast into specially constructed demolition seal arrays with enough power to crack a mountain worked, for a time. It had taken five of those to stop the Bijuu, and that had been for ten minutes, as it reconstructed it's front paws from the surrounding elements. Creating a jinchuuriki, something to bind the beast's soul and powers to, had been the only way, otherwise it could have basically fought indefinitely. How could something like that be fought? The sealing had saved Konoha from an enemy that to the best of his knowledge could not be defeated.
Perhaps it was the sense of personal loss that motivated their vitriol against the boy. Sarutobi could understand that, but could not accept it. Shinobi faced loss and death as a part of their lifestyle. But too many he knew personally had never gotten over it. Kakashi, perhaps Minato's greatest student, seemed lost in a haze of grief and memories of days gone past. Obito and Rin were dead. Minato was dead. No amount of staring at the memorial stone would change that. The man's tendencies of lateness and obsession with Icha Icha were quite annoying and insulting on a personal level. Did he think himself the only one to have ever experienced loss? Sarutobi had loved Minato in his own way. He would have never nominated him for the office of Hokage otherwise over Orochimaru, a student whose potential had only been matched by his depravity and lack of morals. But over time he had accepted the man's passing and continued with his life. Why could no one else do the same? The Kyuubi attack seemed to be killing Konoha slowly, even after the beast was gone. It irritated him in a way to walk through the streets and see past the smiles and greetings and see the despair and ghosts of the past clinging to people. Those who had been lost were dead, and would remain dead. Nothing would change that, not even killing the container. That was why Sarutobi resisted the attacks against Naruto.
The people would have to learn to live with it, one way or another.
The seal was checked constantly, to the Kyuubi no Kitsune's growing anger. The ningen were quite paranoid about it. She supposed she should feel honored in a way. They were that afraid of her, even after the fact. There was small comfort in that. But overall it was more annoying than flattering. Too much of her time was spent using her demonic chakra, her youkai, an power source infinitely superior to the feeble energies humans had at their command, to create the impression of the original seal. The true seal was hidden behind layers of henges and glamours humans would be hard pressed to detect. They were all such hypocrites. They loved their Yondaime so much, but not enough to trust that he had bound her power and treat the boy properly. The truth was that he hadn't. The Shiki Fuujin had been unexpected, chaining her might to this small whelp. But in the end, the Death God had favored her over the foolish mortal. The Shinigami was no friend to humanity. It hungered for souls, and Kyuubi no Kitsune had sent it many that day. It warmed her black heart at times to think that Konoha's Greatest Kage had been cosigned to an eternity of silent oblivion and had not gained a complete victory over her.
She thought about the festival that was happening in a few days time. The Kyuubi Festival. How precious. These low monkeys celebrated her defeat. Why? She was not dead, and as for defeated, this was but a temporary setback. The boy would have a long life, much longer than any ordinary or even extraordinary humans due to her influence, but he would eventually expire, and she would return to the Makai, not oblivion, as the Yondaime wanted. In truth, she was glad to return home. She had tired of this world and its infestation of humans. She had originally left the Makai out of boredom. Never ending conflict did wear on the nerves after a while. And there was no real challenge. Near infinite power was not all roses. Settling in Ningenkai for perhaps a hundred thousand years sounded like a nice, lazy vacation. But then the other Bijuu had followed her and the conflict began again. She had felt like screaming at the injustice of it all.
Then the whole Konoha debacle had happened somewhere along the line, and here she was. She had been hibernating in a nice warm volcano when these insects came buzzing about her. She had heard the word jinchuuriki before, and had even been amused to hear that such a fate had befallen some of her more stupid rivals. But for these mongrels to attempt to do such a thing to her...they were out of their minds. Annihilating the thirty man team sent to 'deal' with her took but a flick of the tail.
It was then on to Konoha, for a bit of...chastisement. Yes, chastisement. That was a nice, safe word. Some discipline was in order, to remind these ningen that there were some Things Man Was Not Meant To Know, such as attempting to leash the Kyuubi no Kitsune like some common animal. These ningen were mad to even attempt such a thing. Trying to use the Sharingan on her...as a control method? Honestly. She had burned out the Uchiha's eyes for that. Did they not remember their own clan history? It had been a rogue sect of the Hyuuga who had journeyed to find her, disturbing her slumber, begging for her help all those years ago. They were members of a 'branch house', whatever that was, enslaved by the 'main house', whatever that was. It was all very tedious and boring. She had decided to help them and send them on their way, for some reason. She was feeling in an oddly giving and humorous mood and had indulged them. She had mutated their Hyuuga bloodline, altering it to form the Sharingan, a heavily watered down and bastardized version of her own natural ability to analyze and break down chakra energy patterns. She neglected to tell these fools that memorizing too many chakra patterns, or 'jutsus', as they called them, would overload the mind and cause madness. She had not given them increased brain capacity after all. Humans only used ten percent of their brains and most of that percent was used up on other matters, like keeping them alive. She thought that these 'Uchiha', as they now called themselves, would be smart and use their new gift wisely, sparingly. She guessed not. Whatever. Let them melt their brains, copying every jutsu under the sun. It was no skin off her back.
Besides, it was more fun that way.
But back to the matter at hand. The brat. He was equal parts infuriating and endearing, in a way. If such emotional contexts existed for one such as the Kyuubi no Kitsune. The boy was a resource, one that needed to be cultivated well. The process behind the jinchuuriki was fascinating, in its own debased way. The Bijuu were creatures of spirit and matter, more parts spirit than matter actually. The Makai operated by a different set of physical parameters than this world. The Bijuu, and by extension all other demons, were energy manipulated by a consciousness. Applying that energy to create a physical shell was one of the first things any demon worth their tails learned. Even by the standards of the Makai, the Kyuubi was a cunning, sadistic ancient, millions of years old. She had clawed and scratched her way to the apex of both evolution and power. The infamous 'tails' were both marks of power, and of advanced evolution. A Nine Tailed Fox was a foe to be feared indeed, as one could ascend no higher. She had killed many who had climbed the ranks to her level in power over the eons. The remaining Bijuu she let live, even the Eight Tailed Snake, a treacherous creature, because they had their uses and specialities. Shukaku was more entertainment than anything else, a dullard screaming for blood. Nibi had some very interesting powers relating to death, and warranted careful watching.
Hmmm. Back on point. She was reminiscing, going off on a tangent. That happened a lot since her joining to the boy. Her sense of time was never good, seeing as time meant little to an immortal creature, but it was even worse now. It took actual concentration. How aggravating. Evidently, the mechanism behind the jinchuuriki seemed to retard the process by which the Bijuu interacted with a physical shell. The Kyuubi had been so powerful that the Shinigami was forced to intervene to tie her to a mortal shell, which was delicate, and unable to process her power fully. This had been no problem for a shell composed of raw elements. More could always be gathered to replace what had been destroyed. Not so with a human. Had she attempted to simply push through her power into this feeble container, the boy would burn out in an extremely violent manner. The effect likely would cause a chain reaction that could scorch the land for thousands of miles around. She was almost tempted to do so, as Konoha would surely be destroyed. But no. The Shinigami had altered the agreement, but still had to abide by its spirit. If the boy died from violence, either from her actions or by her failing to protect him as her vessel, she would be thrust into oblivion. But if the boy shuffled off the mortal coil, whenever that was, the Kyuubi could return in spirit form to Makai.
Again, there was no hurry. A hundred, two hundred, a thousand years, made no difference. Although she tired of humans running to and fro underfoot across the land, there were things they did which were of some interest. Living through her vessel vicariously was a small plus. The way these ningen fought was also worth notice. In the Makai, battles were determined by raw strength alone, and there was something to be said for that. But she had grown more and more enamored with subtlety and intrigue over the ages, of which there was little of in the dark realm she ruled over as an angry goddess. The human world possessed subtlety and shades of gray in spades. Thousands upon thousands of techniques, for a thousand and one things, both major and mundane. There were many she knew. During her time in the Ningenkai, and especially during her ill fated attack, she had devoured warriors and shinobi by the hundreds, if not the thousands. Their souls were like motes of light, filling her in a small way. What was fascinating was that these small creatures were all unique, but at the same time quite similar. All of them knew how to kill, but they knew so many different ways how to kill. By jutsu, by poison, by sharp strike to the back of the head...on and on. The information was very interesting, but ultimately useless to her in a practical sense. Bijuu, and especially not the strongest one of them all, did not do battle with techniques. They were techniques, sowing destruction and ruin upon the land with every motion.
The knowledge of these dead warriors would be of much use to the boy. Her container must be strong. It was both pride and necessity. His home village was a deathtrap, a sword hanging over both their heads. They had made initial contact nearly two years ago. The boy was two years old and already living in the orphanage. The caretakers begrudgingly took care of him, barely. He was quite mature physically. Nothing overt, but the boy had need of all his faculties as soon as possible. Manipulating his body at several times the normal rate was no problem.
But there was so much more that could be done! Compared to her own, the human body was horribly simplistic. Altering it in any significant way was relatively simple. She could make her container from an ordinary man into a superman, standing leagues above these insects. And not one of those idiotic doujutsus, either. Those seemed to be the majority of the special abilities these humans possessed. It was a crutch, she called it. She had eaten several dozen Sharingan users, and they all had minds chock full of jutsus and fighting techniques they had copied, but just as she had noticed the majority of them had been suffering mental problems from the information overload. A closer examination of her work on the Sharingan had been funny, in a way. The Sharingan was powerful, but she must have been really lazy the day those Hyuuga came calling. There were some rather severe behavioral flaws present on a genetic level. Imbalances in the brain...an undeserved God complex...a genetic version of 'arrogance', literally...she had built a time bomb. But it wasn't her fault, at least not completely. These Uchiha had been fools. One, you don't use a gift from a demon carelessly, like they obviously had. Two, any tool is but a tool, not the entire reason for being. Had the Sharingan been used sparingly, had these Uchiha fools not covered up the fact that their great blood limit sprang from a demon out of some stupid notion of 'pride', they would have been better off.
Oh well. Spilled blood and all that. Their knowledge would suit her vessel well. Thousands of jutsus, a multitude of fighting styles, any and all information about being a ninja or just about fighting, she possessed in abundance. She had already altered the boy's brain significantly and had begin feeding the information in slowly. He would still need to practice and make these techniques and fighting abilities his own. Information without context or familiarity was gibberish.
But back to her train of thought, there was so much to do to improve the vessel, make it superior. The bones, the muscles, crafting a superhuman body...a passive blood limit. Creating something far beyond a mere human animal. Clenching her fist, the Kyuubi reflected that bones were definitely a must. The boy was incredibly willful. He had almost died from an assassination attempt by one of these ANBU, maddened in his grief over some loss he had suffered due to the fox. The Kyuubi could not be bothered to care. All humans died, whether by violence or by natural death, or by a hundred other dangers. It was as if an ant or a fly had died. Ultimately unimportant. She had killed this assassin, burning him with a flare of chakra. The boy, Naruto was his name, had been left alone in a room in his orphanage. Apparently his minders were lax in their duties. An old man in official robes had come soon after the alert had been raised. This elder was a 'Hokage', the senior warrior in the village. Even in his advanced stage, there was power there, steel behind those soft eyes. But as with most humans, he was mostly words, not actions. He could only motivate his underlings to protect the demon container so far. The Kyuubi thought that threats of death towards her vessel's reticent guards would be a better motivator, but this old man was of a different mind about that.
After the old fool had left, the fox could sense the boy's resentment towards the old man on a subconscious level. He had heard too many times from this old man that he was 'very important' and that the villagers hated and feared what they could not understand. But that did not excuse their actions. Treating the boy as some sort of subhuman did not endear the citizens of Konoha to Naruto. The boy was smart. He knew that the old man was holding back something of great importance from him. He was obviously something special, even if for the wrong reasons, otherwise why would the leader of his village have such a vested interest in him, or the constant medical checkups in which the marking on his stomach that were the center of attention?
Continuing, if he was so important, why was he left like this, where he was? Naruto was only three years old, and had already endured significant hardship. His food and clothes were substandard. He always got the impression that the caretaker of the orphanage gave what she gave to him because she was forced to do so. He rated better than used, grubby clothes. At least they were clean. The other children were no help. It was quickly made clear that associating with the tainted one was quite a crime. And as far as where he lived, who else but the hated one would be given the far room on the fourth floor of the orphanage, where the heater worked only occasionally? And who else but the apparent mistake of Konoha would have one of the adults outside his room on a consistent basis, making sure he stayed in his room the majority of the time? Naruto was also sure that there were some of those ninja, those ANBU, around his room all the time. If he looked outside the window, he could just make out one, hiding in the shadows across the alley.
All in all, strange.
And then he turned around, thinking his suspicious thoughts, and there she was, sitting serenely on the rickety chair next to the table, staring at him.
He could almost remember seeing this woman somewhere before. Red hair, red slitted eyes, sharp teeth barely hidden by soft crimson lips, whisker marks on her cheeks, a look of superiority etched across her face.
"That old man sure is a piece of work, isn't he?" she whispered in a conspiratorial manner.
That didn't answer where this woman had come from, or how she seemed to know exactly what had been running through his mind. She took one look around the room dispassionately before returning her gaze at him. He really didn't need anyone else telling him the room looked like shit, or the fact that it was cold as ice.
Revealing the truth so her vessel went remarkably well. There was no obscene emotional displays, which was good. The boy already understood the truth of things. No matter what the fox had done, two wrongs don't make a right. His status as a demon vessel of the entity that had laid waste to the village three short years ago did not warrant the rather extreme negative treatment he received, that would undoubtedly get worse as he grew older. Naruto had been in a fight not too long ago. Two bullies wanted to take his food in the cafeteria. Naruto was only three years old, not a strong boy, but he was already aggressive. Hitting someone in the knee in the right spot and smashing the tray full of food into the face of the second bully did the trick. He noticed that while the adults did nothing when these who fools rolled up to him demanding food, they were too quick to jump on him for defending himself.
He knew the game. Double standards were the order of the day as applied to Uzumaki Naruto.
That had been two years ago. Naruto was now five, and much progress had been made in a relatively short time, but the Kyuubi got the feeling that a change of scenery would be coming soon. The villagers became more and more violent towards the boy with each passing year. Glares turned to harsh words whick turned to tripping in the street which turned to things more directly violent. And let's not forget the assassination attempts. The old man had put to death more than a fait share of ninja and civilians who had overtly attacked the Kyuubi container over the years. Those under his command had performed the executions under duress. The old man had been challenged more than once over his policy of the death penalty for those who would attack the demon vessel. The Hokage had grown more and more short and dictatorial with those who served him on this issue. Naruto had heard the old man say once that 'they would have to accept the boy or die' and that 'they would have to let go of their hatred sometime'. He supposed that was a plus in the old man's favor. But then the Kyuubi told him that it was the Hokage who had outed him to these rabble when he was but a babe, made him a target. In all likelihood, the old man was doing all this, these severe punishments, to make up for that mistake.
The old man wasn't terrible, Naruto reflected, but he had been a trusting fool, for all his power and skill. Naruto could not see why. The majority of these foolish lambs in the village were undeserving in so many different ways, the civilains especially. Antagonizing and making an enemy out of a boy that held power beyond imagining. They were positioning the kunai to be aimed at their heads. Sarutobi should have done him a kindness and made him out to be just another child, a hapless orphan, an unknown. Not the demon carrier, a black mark which had made him a man apart.
The Kyuubi had spent an inordinate amount of time adjusting his chakra pathways, enlarging and enhancing them, although she had noted that this was the beginning of a long list of ideas she had to make him into some kind of superhuman. That was fine by him. As he was, he was terribly weak, surrounded by enemies. And those that were not his enemies, kept their distance and turned a blind eye to his abuse. Voluntary blindness was no excuse. Just the other day, he had been in the park and an old woman had thrown her drink at him. Had he been alone with the old bitch, she would have been his first kill. But there were too many people about, and they all took this indignity as normal, as if he was deserving.
Apparently, the Kyuubi had a wealth of knowledge about various fighting techniques and ninjutsus and information on practically all the shinobi arts. There was not much he could do currently beyond absorb this information piece by piece and sharpen his mind. Too many people were watching him. The Ninja Academy was in a year and a half, and seemed the place for him. While serving Konoha in any capacity appeared distasteful to both him and to the Kyuubi, it was better than sitting around waiting for a whole lot of nothing. The populace of this anthill would certainly be up in arms about their pariah learning the killing arts, and just for that, all the bullshit would be worth it. The Kyuubi also presented Naruto with the second option of leaving Konoha. While her knowledge was vast and esoteric, she did not know everything. Most of her knowledge on shinobis came from devouring them and assimilating their memories and skills. She had primarily feasted on Konoha shinobis and while what she knew and was passing on to her container was great, there was so much more to learn. Things that this village didn't know or would refuse to teach its scapegoat slash prisoner. The fox also seemed entranced by the idea of perhaps heading West, outside the Elemental Countries altogether. There were many places she still hadn't seen, and this part of the world bored her. A change of scenery could be in order.
Two options...stay or go. Natuto had thought about this for a long time. He had the potential for great strength, what with the knowledge the Kyuubi had given him and would continue to give him. But it would take a long time to properly develop it. All his efforts up to now would be nothing compared to the challenge of mastering these powers and abilities.
Naruto looked up from his musing. The Kyuubi was at his window, looking down at something on the street. She never manifested a physical form unless there was something of importance. Her construct was an enhanced version of a kinjutsu called the Kage Bunshin.
"I think you will find this interesting." she remarked, vindication shining in her fiery eyes. "Come and look at this. I think you cannot afford to be indescisive about what we have talked about any longer, my vessel." She pointed down at the far end of the street.
The Kyuubi had mentioned many times that there were major alterations she wished to perform upon him, things that would make her initial changes pale in comparison. But her initial tweaking of his eyes worked quite well. No one besides him knew that his eyesight was well beyond 20/20.
Well, what a scene on the street. Naruto could faintly hear the celebrations of the Kyuubi Festival in the center of town. Fireworks and all sorts of shenanigans and merrymaking. But what was taking place on the nearby street corner was more interesting. Here was the caretaker of the orphanage, talking to a masked ANBU flanked by several of his cohorts. He was not wearing the porcelain mask, but the tattoo could clearly be made out by someone with his visual acuity.
The ANBU handed the woman a large roll of bills. The woman counted the money and then began speaking to them. Reading lips was pointless. Naruto was fairly sure he knew what they wanted, and what the woman had done. He was the only one in the orphanage tonight. He saw no reason to go to the festival, being forced to deal with the inferiors who made up the village. His ANBU minders and the orphanage worker who watched him were strangely absent.
Dereliction of duty indeed.
The woman stopped talking. The ANBU and his associates nodded to her and then disappeared into the shadows. But Naruto could feel them.
"It appears you are going to have to fight, young one. They won't tolerate your existence much longer, it appears. Your guards have deserted you. You are alone."
"Has it ever been any different?" Naruto looked at Kyuubi, who shrugged. "It looks like you're getting what you wanted. We're leaving the village tonight. But first, there are a couple things to take care of. One, those ANBU." Naruto flexed his hand. Reddish-blue chakra erupted and took on the shape of a claw. That was strange. He had definite problems working with the fox and manifesting the chakra appendages, but in a high pressure, high adrenaline situation, it worked flawlessly. Or maybe it just took more practice in a place where he did not have to hide his true abilities.
Ehhh, whatever. They wished to come after him in the night, he would paint the town red with their blood and put the fear of God into them.
He also had to ask Sarutobi a question that had been on his mind for quite a long tiime. He would set aside a couple minutes for a question and answer session with the old man.
He would talk...or he would die.
Chapters 3 + 4 will be up probably over the weekend. I apologize if the first 2 chapters seem very analysis heavy, but that's what I like to do, and these first 2 are the set up to the direction I want this story to go in. Besides, I like a fair bit of analysis with my stories. Nine Tailed Serpent comes to mind thinking about this.
The perspective in this chapter shifted between 3 characters, Naruto, Sarutobi, and the Kyuubi.
As I said, with this story, I want to spin some of the cliches I see in many Naruto fics and do them with my own style, hopefully making some of these cliches not so pathetic.
1. The cliche that the Kyuubi knows demonic jutsus. I don't like that because as far as I'm concerned, a hundred foot tall fox demon is a jutsu, the most powerful one there is. In my story, I like the idea that the fox knows HUMAN jutsus because it ate humans and assimilated their knowledge, including their techniques and battle knowledge. As a demon fox, it has no use for it, but the container does.
2. The cliche, or did Kashimoto actually say it (?) that the Sharingan has some way of controlling the Kyuubi. I HATE that. Kyuubi no Kitsune is a bad motherfucker, and I don't think any mere doujutsu would work against the Kyuubi, a creature far older than humans.
Related to this is the idea I have seen in fanon that the Sharingan descended from the Hyuuga and broke off. For some reason, I like that idea, but my spin on it is that it was due to demonic interference that the Sharingan was created. The fact that the trademark Uchiha arrogance is genetic, built in, seems funny to me.
Please review! And by review, I want more than just 'cool'. Please say what's on your mind about this, and make your review as long as possible. Feel free to praise me. :) Action and violence will be up next chapter!