Chapter One: The Future and Ichibi

You need to understand something. Jiraiya is not a bad man. He didn't neglect me for twelve years. He made sure that no one had a clue Konoha had a jinchuriki for nine— And then, when the Kyuubi failed to reform, he made sure that not a single soul knew who it was. He composed vast, superficially functional seals that seemed (and only seemed) to allow the creation of adult jinchuuriki, and leaked just enough of them to make it seem unintentional, but to give other seal masters an understanding of their function. He used hypnosis genjutsu to make former clients of Konoha begin talking about chunin with red chakra that felt like rage. He forged photography, documentation, communiques and more.

And all this, while effectively operating as an intelligence agency contained in a single human body. Jiraiya, even more than Orochimaru, stands as living proof that the title that Hanzou the Salamander had graced his team with had not been in vain.

And that, really was the problem.

Jiraiya saved my life probably more times than I will ever know. He did not know me, and while he kept me breathing, that said nothing of my quality of life.

Call it the difference between living and surviving, if you like. The net result?

Well, I'm me. Let's say that that was the net result. Not that I mind too much, you know, the butterfly effect— a moth flapping it's wings in Sunagakure, a typhoon on the southern coasts of Mizu.

If even a single thing had changed, then things would be different, and that would probably be bad. Or perhpas not. Perhaps, I would have ended up living a life in the lap of luxury from six month of age onward. Ha. Yeah right. The point is, saying something could've been different is meaningless. Even a single altered footstep effects a million variables, and the consequences of a floorboard not creaking on that one assassination mission could be bloodline genocide in kumo two decades later.

You can't know. So don't regret the past. That's my shinobi creed. But where were we?

Ah, yes. Jiraiya.

Jiraiya left Konoha for over a decade, building and maintaining his spy network so impressive that intelligence analysts everywhere thought we spent over forty percent of our true budget on espionage alone, when, in truth, it was being run by a single, womanising old man who wrote erotic literature in his spare time, and who often couldn't even afford the price of the watered down swill that the inkeepers of the world call sake.

It takes an extraordinary amount of dedication to achieve those kinds of results, you know. Nothing short of absolute loyalty would cut it— I can't even imagine how far he degraded himself in the service of his country on a day-to-day besis, nor do I care to. It was as amazing, as, ultimately, it was wasted. Because in the game of intelligence, if a single truth slips though the cracks then the hole created by it's absence allows a skilled manipulator to create a web of lies, and Orochimaru and the Akatsuki were more than capable of finding those cracks.

But even if his work was for naught, you need to know this bit of his history. It tells you the kind of man Jiraiya is: Tough, pragmatic, and ruthlessly, brutally dedicated to his village before all else. He wasn't always like that— but then his student's students had died, his best friend had betrayed him and the woman he truly loved left him for a life of gambling and cheap alcohol. Something that one might argue, was a bit of a overeaction on her part.

Oh don't look at me like that. I know people who have lost just as much but still at least tried to continue. Now—

Was it really so hard, then, to see where this man, a man almost unrecognizable as the screwoff who had once been the least effective of all the Sandaime's students, had come from? Is it so hard to see this man, who watched the one triumph of his miserable life, the Yondaime Hokage, throw away his life for the Village to decide, 'Then, serving the village before all else is the definition of virtue?'

Because, that is what he decided. The proof is in the telling. When I was eight, Jiraiya thwarted a combined Kumo-Kusa plot to assasinate the leading clan heads of Konoha. During that period, I almost died three times. Twice, I was saved by the ANBU, but that last time?

That was my first kill.

Yes, I think if he had known me personally, it might've made a difference. But the bottom line is, he weighed my life against Konoha's well-being and found me wanting.

It was the right choice. And it was the choice of a man who had been forged by watching everything he loved— all but one— fall to shreds.

So, after Sarutobi Hiruzen's death, Jiraiya left Konoha in search of his other teammate and he did it without his sometimes student. After all, despite his success against Gaara of the Sand and his outwardly cheerful attitude, the Uzumaki Naruto he had come to know was little more than a sometimes-effective, unintelligent brawler who had managed to use the power of his own superior Bijuu to force an insane Junchuuriki down. And he had fully demonstrated all the typical bloodlust that any other jinchuuriki had when doing it.

He had expected a lot of Minato's son.

I had let him down.

More to the point though, I couldn't help him retrieve his target. I had no quality that could win her over. I was useless to him, and as a hanger on, might even cause the mission to fail if I ran my mouth at the wrong time. He had no reason to take me with him, and so, he didn't.

That was the day that changed the world.

But as for how he came to that conclusion?

Well, to be frank, it was just me and my comrades completely loosing our collective shit.

⁌⁅⁑⁀'―‿⁂‿―'⁀⁑⁆⁍

When the invasion of Konoha began, things started happening very fast. Chaos descended upon the town like a tsunami, dragging everyone and everything into a confused, discordant battle. Sakura fell early on, knocked unconscious by a lightning jutsu that was ultimately non-lethal. I took her to a relatively secluded spot while Sasuke single-handedly dispatched an entire team of Sound Nin, who despite their older age were, by his own words, "Worse than Academy students."

Eventually, we managed to close in on the sand trio, and gave a heavily wounded team 10 the window necessary to retreat. Sasuke and I stood, facing off against them.

It was at that moment that the worst possible thing happened.

The leaves rustled, and a short boy popped out of them, tripping over his scarf and tumbling to his feet. Sarutobi Konohamaru. To this day, I don't know how he learned of our mission or our location.

To this day, I don't know why he decided to come.

But what happened next will remain with me forever.

He began to stand up, looking over to me, and— a wave of sand in the shape of a maw moved towards him— he said— it opened- "Hey boss—" I dashed towards him, trying desperately to get there in time— "I came to help—" and he turned to the maw, dropping into an academy taijutsu stance— and I made a final desperate lunge— and the wave of sand closed over him—

And I had failed.

And he screamed, once. High pitched, before his voice was cut off forever.

Blood in a torrent fell from the maw, as Gaara began to cackle. "Yes, yes! Mother so loves when I add the bones to the mix!"

I dropped to my knees. Temari and Kankuro stared at their brother in horror, backing away before Temari made a quick hand signal and they jumped over to our side.

"Don't misunderstand us, Konoha-nin," Kankuro said, "But if he don't fight with you, all of our chances of survival go down. When he's like this..."

I felt a sudden burst of absolute malevolence from Sasuke, and somewhere, in the back of my head, I heard the voice of a demon fox— "I GIVE THIS FREELY."

And then the horror was muted, replaced by anger, which deepened to rage as I stood up, staring at the person who I had thought of as a counterpart.

"Gaara." I said, "It looks like I was wrong about you after all. I thought you could be reasoned with— but it's obvious you're just a rabid dog that needs to be put down!"

"Dobe," Sasuke snarled, "If you don't kill him first—" The sound of a thousand birds filed the air.

And Gaara just laughed, "Come, Uzumaki! Uchiha! Sister, brother! Come and let me prove my existence!"

And so the battle was fucking on. I dashed laterally to one side, avoiding a hail of sand projectiles that came in behind me even as I took to the trees and leapt into the air, forming a single familiar seal as I surrounded Gaara with clones and began weaving in and out of them. At the same moment, Temari summoned a weasel, it's scythe actually causing Gaara to bleed. Kankuro had vanished behind a genjutsu somewhere, and Sasuke stood stock-still, the flame-like brands of the curse seal dancing across his skin as he pulled more, and more, and more chakra from it, corroding his lifespan to fuel a dark Chidori that sang with terrible power. At some point, the weasel disappeared, and my clones, without any command on my part, began to engage Gaara in melee to keep him occupied. As they fell, I kept creating a steady flow of them, my chakra being returned to me as they were destroyed one by one, and sometimes by the dozen. As they died, I began to see pattern in Gaara's attacks, and after longer still openings.

I took a chance, and sent a clone in. It managed to get past the sand and actually hit Gaara, and I nodded, jumping back and running through a sting of twelve seals and slamming my fist into the ground.

There was a blast of smoke, and then a toxic yellow toad wielding two swords appeared, saying "Gamadachi at yer service, lord summoner!"

"Gamadachi," I shouted, "The sand user is the enemy. When the black haired lightning user begins to charge, draw his attention. When the main part of the sand cloud is above his head, it's safe to strike at his arms. When it's surrounding his back, his neck is vulnerable from the front. Go!"

"Aye, milord!" Gamadachi shouted, leaping into the fray. I made two hundred shadow clones in after him, and looked around before I finally found Temari leaning against a tree on strangely dark soil, one hand over he stomach. I leapt over to her, and asked, "Any chance you can summon that weasel again?"

She looked up to me, eyes wide before seeming to remember that I was now an ally, then nodded sharply— but why would she be afraid...?

I glanced back down at the dark patch of dirt, and understood. She was bleeding out. How I still don't know— Gaara was never big on slashing attacks. But, the truth remained. "Do you have any bandaged in your kit!" I asked. She shook her head, and I swore, before shrugging out of the jacket and handing it to her— I had no shirt on underneath. Konoha is hot, wearing unnessecary layers was something that was drilled out of us from the start. "Use this. If we live through this, I swear that I'll see you get proper medical attention. Wait for my signal to summon."

"Understood." She whispered— but with determination. I nodded, and asked one last question— my clones were running out, and I needed to get back. "Your brother. Where would he be, what's he trying to do?"

"Poison cocktail, Waiting for the sand armour to be pierced." she replied, then added "This wasn't how it was supposed to happen."

Not actually having anything to say to that, I nodded, and shot off, heading back into the battle zone— and at that moment, Sasuke finally finished whatever it was that he had been doing with the curse seal to power up the chidori, and with a bestial roar, he charged, completely, absolutely black lightning tearing gouges in the ground as he blitzed forward. At the same moment, I made forty shadow clones in the opposite direction, and Gamadachi moved in with what would have been a debilitating blow if not for the sand armour. To add even further to the pandemonium, I leapt to a nearby tree, and began flinging Shuriken and Kunai at him.

Alone, none of the attacks would have done anything. Together, they drew Gaara's attention, and he only noticed Sasuke in the last second— and by then, it was too late. Sasuke's hand burst through Gaara's chest, though his heart, obsidian lightning discharging through the insane shinobi's body and into the clear blue sky, his sand armour melting into glass and before exploding off as Sasuke's hand shot out of his back. At the same moment a gigantic puppet shaped vaguely like Kankuro appeared from a blur in the air, and sunk a blade into Gaara's back.

Sasuke pulled his hand out, and everything fell silent as Gaara dropped to his knees, and then fell face-first onto the ground.

Silence spread through the torn up clearing where we had fought, and Kankuro stepped out of another blur in the air.

"Is it over?" He asked.

And then, Gaara began to laugh. It had a manic quality to it, as he pushed himself jerkily over onto his back, ranting to himself. "Yes, yes, YES! This... this is what I wanted! The ultimate bloodbath! Here, I will make my name and this entire COUNTRY WILL BURN! Mother! Grant me your strength!"

Something happened, and the air grew heavier, then pulsed. Gaara closed his eyes— and when they opened, they had become cold, hateful, and absolutely, utterly inhuman, an aquiline cross and black, four yellow dots and the identity of hate.

"WEeeElll." Said the thing inhabiting Gaara's body, "IiiSn'tT ThhhISSSs aa TreeeEEaAT!"

The thing floated up, off the ground, and then righted itself in mid-air, a strange wind unsettling it's clothes as flecks of obsidian sand flowed together over the hole in it's chest, coalescing into a slowly beating heart, fully exposed to the air for a moment before more of the stuff wove together like thread replacing the muscle, and skin grew over it. It looked at us with an alien indifference, as if we were nothing to it.

Until it laid it's eyes on me.

In a single second, it had crossed the ten metre gap between us, and it hovered in front of my face, studying it intently. Then it smiled widely. "KeeekKEeEK KEK— KAaaaaHAHAhAHhaHAHHAHAAa!" It laughed, "SoOO eveN the NinTH suucuummmmbSS to THIS FATE."

I thought about it for a moment, and then, calmly and without any preamble, said, "Temari? Now."

I single lance of air came from the left and slammed into Gaara's demon-possesed form with a ferocity, far, far above the first time I had seen the weasel— no, I realized, the Kamataichi— in action, and separated his legs from his body.

I realized it had been a mistake when, instead of falling apart, a black ring of the same obsidian sand formed around Gaara's waist, sinking into him and leaving unblemished skin when it did so. The thing behind those terrible eyes grinned manically.

"IMmPREeSSsiVe! ShOW MeeE MmMMMOreeE!"

It took a step forward, obsidian sand armour forming over it's body, sharp, jagged edges protruding against the air in a hateful mess of alien lines— and then it began to grow.

I edged away, but it slowly began to gain on me, and in a single, desperate move, I substituted myself with a shadow clone, buying me just enough time to run through twelve familiar seals for the second time in the day. This time, I put my all into it, pouring every last drop of free chakra into the technique.

There was a howl of absolute rage as the ground seemed to shoot up, and push at me before finally stopping, and when the Chakra smoke had cleared, I stood on Gamabunta's head, staring at a now equally large tanuki of slowly chruning earth, covered in black markings from head to toe.'

"You! You'll PAY, for making me show this form, pathetic worm!" Strangely, it's voice had become much clearer. I shrugged, as Gamabunta drew his giant knife, wordlessly understanding my intent.

And I shouted, "Bring it on!"

The demon charged, and I entered the final stage of the battle that would begin my legend.

Questions? Comments? Hated this story? Loved it? Think I should be tortured for all eternity? Leave a review, and feed my muse! IT WAITS.

Revision Notes:

And now, the two sane sand siblings aren't quite so OOC as in the previous draft. In the original copy of this chapter, I had them fighting to kill Gaara for some assinie reason. Now, they are fighting for their very survival.