Summary: Naruto is consummated on the night of a blood moon. Minato and Kushina couldn't be happier. Then the Kyuubi attacks Konoha.
Author's Note: I do not own Naruto or Bloodborne.
Mitarashi Anko writhed in her bed. She was burning up even though she had taken her clothes off. Moonlight shone off sweat slicked skin. She was suffering unnecessarily. It felt like her blood was on fire. She reached for the smooth glass of the vial under her pillow then retracted her hand. She bit down on her bottom lip until she drew blood.
She would not scream.
Lightning ran up her spine and arched her back until it was ready to snap.
She would not scream.
The pain sparked up her limbs, making them twist and flail like the arms of an octopus. Her toes curled inwards. It was like being in the waves of an orgasm she couldn't stop. The pain drove spotlights into her closed eyes. As if trying to save itself from the agony, her mind turned to the only memory available. How she got this disease, and from who.
The forest of death was an almost eternal darkness. Save for the sunlight filtering through the tops of the trees, it was almost complete black at the bottom. The wildlife had adapted, their eyes caught what little light they could and reflected it into the dark, making them glow. Anko's eyes glowed as well.
She was on her way home when she saw something strange. Three glowing eyes, two in a pair beneath a third. The third eye was huge. She had never seen an eye that big before, not even on the giant tigers. She stopped and turned back. Thin shafts of light pierced the dark here. The eye was gone. In its place was a child, probably 10 years old. He had blonde hair so pale it was almost white. He was dressed a black jumpsuit with sandals. His eyes were blue disks. There were only two of them. And he was staring at her.
"What are you doing in my forest, brat?" she said, hands on her hips.
He didn't respond. He blinked once, then tilted his head to the side to look behind her.
"Hey! Didn't you hear me?" She leaned forward. "Huh?"
He tilted his head in the other direction.
"Tough guy, huh?" Anko flicked a knife at him, scored his cheek and disappeared. She reappeared behind him, wrapped her arms around his neck and licked the tiny slit.
"Delicious," she said.
The boy didn't flinch as her tongue ran across his cheek. Her eyes narrowed. His blood tasted funny. It was sweet, almost sickeningly so. Anko had tasted blood before. Any self-respecting shinobi had. Licking an open wound was like sucking on a penny. But this kid's blood was sweet. In fact, it tasted like syrup. Dango syrup. She had taken another lick before she could stop herself. Yes. Dango syrup. It even left the soft burn of cinnamon on her tongue. She began to suck at the wound. The blood was thick and sweet and went down her throat slowly like molasses or whipped cream. The boy didn't resist. She ran her tongue along the cut and her mouth hissed as she suckled on it. There was something underneath the sweetness. Something sickly. Like fruit preserves from an ancient can. His blood tasted old.
The pain started somewhere far away; the distant roar of an approaching storm. She felt her stomach tingle as the blood welled within. Then came the dull ache of fullness. She couldn't stop. It was too good. The knife piercing her stomach winded her. Anko let go of the boy and stumbled backwards, hands clutching her belly. It felt like her stomach was on fire, and the sensation quickly spread through her limbs. Her hands went up to her neck and clawed at the skin. Her throat burned. Anko bit back the urge to scream as knives tore at her insides. She couldn't breathe. Tears burned tracks down her cheeks.
She could see the boy through her burning eyes. He was staring at her with his head cocked to the left.
"Please…help me," she said, her voice rasping like metal on sandpaper. The boy smiled, took the knife she had thrown, neatly slit his wrist, and pressed the wound to her lips. Thick, sweet blood trickled down her throat. The dark of the forest claimed her.
Anko awoke facing an I.V bag filled with blood. It ran a red string from the bag into the needle in her arm.
"Hello," someone said beside her. Anko froze. She had spent nearly her entire life mastering her senses. No one was that quiet, no one could mask their scent that well. And yet, she wouldn't have noticed him if he hadn't spoken. Anko turned her head slowly.
Her window was facing east, and the sun had just begun to peek out from the thin line of the horizon. The boy sat in front of the window and the rising sun framed his head, turning his hair into a blazing white halo. She couldn't see his face but his eyes seemed to glow with the same brilliance.
"He's so beautiful," she thought.
"Hello," he said again. Anko choked on her words. His voice was light, airy, like a sparrow feather on the wind. It was the voice of an innocent. It made her heart ache.
"Are you well?"
That broke her enchantment. She had been looking directly at him. His lips hadn't moved.
"My name is Naruto," he said. Only, he didn't say it. His words rang clear through the valley of her mind.
Anko's hand flailed for the vial under her pillow. She popped the cork with her thumb and poured the contents onto her tongue. Sweet. She swirled it in her mouth, savoring the flavor, then swallowed. The fire in her veins was instantly smothered in a drunken euphoria that left her feeling like she was floating in mid-air. But under that drunkenness was something deep and longing. An unquenched thirst that left her rasping for air. She brought the vial back to her lips and tongued the residue from the inside of the glass. She was unsatisfied.
Konoha's Anbu division were the best of the best. They were the hand in the dark, protecting Konoha from its greatest enemies. They were the elite, the ones the hokage sent when he wanted something done. They did not know fear nor pain nor failure. They were nervous now.
The Hokage was tense. He usually did his daily duties with detached efficiency, like an automated machine performing its pre-determined task, but today his hand wouldn't stop shaking. It wasn't because of his arthritis either; the Hokage was trembling with rage. The four Anbu serving as his personal guards understood why. Another body had been found.
Counter to popular belief, the Hidden villages were not democracies. They were military regimes supported by a surrounding community. The civilian sector paid a tax to the military and the military provided protection to the civilian sector. They were two snakes constantly swallowing each other's tails. One of the military's duties was policing the village, upholding civil order and protecting the peace. They couldn't stop every crime in the village, but they made it so that the villagers felt safe to go out at night. There was only one problem:
A serial killer was loose inside Konoha.
They had no idea where he had come from but what they did know was that he appeared 6 years after the Kyuubi attack, during a time when Konoha was still recovering from the devastation.
The killer had a unique Modus Operandi. All his victims were criminals who had either committed a crime and had been convicted, or were in the midst of committing one. Another unique aspect of the murders were that there were almost always a witness available, whether it was someone who had been attacked and was saved, or someone who had accidentally stumbled upon a murder. There was also the fact that no one could give an accurate description of the killer; sometimes he had black hair, sometimes he had white. Sometimes he was a man and other times he was a boy. All this, coupled with the killer's skill in killing, pointed to one conclusion; he was a shinobi.
The crime scenes baffled forensics teams. They were grizzly, yes, with bits of flesh scattered around, blood spattered across the walls and soaking the ground. Sometimes only the eyes were missing, other times they had to use dental records to identify the victims.
But the one fact that made these killings so strange was that there was no evidence that he existed. Save for eye-witness accounts and the crime scenes themselves, there was no evidence that he had ever been there. He left no fingerprints, no saliva, no trace of chakra, not even a scent to track. It was like trying to prove the existence of a ghost.
The pen snapped under the Hokage's grip. He looked at it, sighed, and rubbed his eyes. He had been thinking about the case again. His thoughts usually drifted towards the murders when he let his mind wonder. It seemed to him that his moniker as "The Professor" was becoming slightly ironic in his old age.
A voice cut through the wool of his thoughts.
The third smiled and signaled his Anbu to relax. "Come in, Naruto."
A blonde boy stepped into the Hokage's office. He was thirteen years old but looked younger. Two large blue eyes peeked out from beneath cascading blonde hair that covered his forehead and fell to his shoulders. People sometimes mistook him for a little girl. Not that he minded.
Naruto closed the door then nodded to the four Anbu hidden in the room. Each nodded back and wondered how he knew they were there. He took a seat in front of the Hokage's desk and cocked his head to one side. His feet barely touched the ground as he swung them under his seat.
The third felt the smile slip from his face, then sighed.
"I'm just tired. You have probably already heard by now. They found another body."
The old man seemed to sag into himself. The Anbu suddenly realized how old their leader really was. He had always been a pillar of strength to them, someone who had fought in two of the three great wars and taken up the mantle of Hokage twice; a feat never before seen in Konoha's history. They sometimes forgot that he was an old man who was called out of retirement to lead a mourning village.
Naruto stood and walked over to the old man. Taking a seat in the his lap, he kissed his cheek. The old man smiled fondly at his surrogate grandson then let out a small sound as if he had just remembered something.
"Oh right," he said. He opened one of the drawers in his desk and took out a white envelope. He handed it to Naruto. "Your pay for the month."
The boy tucked the envelope into his back pocket, kissed the man's cheek again then stood to leave. A voice rose in the old man's mind as he left.
"Do not be concerned. All is well. I believe in you," it said.
It was the most beautiful voice he had ever heard. It made him ache with sorrow. How could such a voice be left unheard? The old man shook his head then set to his work again.
Naruto knocked on the door. This was his last stop for the night and he wanted to get out of her hair quickly. He understood that he made her uncomfortable. He understood it the same way he understood that his father had hated him, the same way he understood that the old man loved him, the same way he understood that he was not human. He understood that her discomfort was not because she hated him, or blamed him, but rather because she felt indebted to him for freeing her, and because she needed him. She hated needing him.
He knocked the door again. No answer. He was about to leave when the door swung ajar slightly. He looked through the slit. Complete darkness. If he left it on the table then he could leave without bothering her. He took a few cautious steps inside, hands feeling the dark for something to hold on to. He never noticed her slipping behind him, not before the knife had slit his throat.
The End
Author's note: Wow! This is the first time I ever posted a story before. 9 reviews and 19 follows for the first chapter is insane for a first time writer. Thank you very much for all the support. Also, please don't ask me about Naruto or his lineage, I have no idea where I am going with this. The first chapter was just something I thought about for a while. I have no actual plot beyond the first few chapters but I do have the base idea. I'm building around a single concept: Naruto is an infant great one. Hopefully all questions will be answered within the next few chapters.
Also, please review. I live on feedback. Tell me if I'm doing something wrong, if it is difficult to read, etc. Please, constructive criticism only.