AN: There will be a number of differences between this Naruto and the one in canon. The reasons will eventually be revealed as the story continues, but I just wanted to give an early warning in case anybody was confused. Also, I apologize in advance for any inaccuracies such as character age and behavior that will likely occur in this story. Keep in mind that these aren't my characters and I won't know exactly how they'll react in certain situations. But that's the kind of challenge I want when writing fanfiction. So enjoy.
Chapter One
He was back in the past and Konoha wasn't destroyed. At least not yet. Normally he would've been happy to have the only home he'd ever known back to its proud and prosperous state, but not this time.
How can I be happy when everything I look at is covered in memories of what's to come? Naruto thought, eyes downcast as he trudged down the dirt path to the more populated areas of the Hidden Leaf Village. He kept his gaze on the ground as he passed people in the streets. If he looked at them for even a moment, chances were likely that he'd know exactly who they were, how they'd died, and why he hadn't been able to save them.
After all, he'd become the Rokudaime Hokage just like he'd said he would, even if it only lasted two years before the Leaf-Sound War came to a head. In that short reign as leader of the Hidden Leaf Village, Uzumaki Naruto had met a great deal of people that lived in his home. Though some had still been wary of him due to his state as the container of the nine-tailed fox, many came to respect the good leader and powerful shinobi he'd become and often made an effort to make up for their past behavior towards him. These redemption attempts usually consisted of dinner invitations or maybe even setups with eligible daughters (which he'd always politely refused, stating that he was too busy with his duties for such things, but perhaps some other time), but overall he'd become acquainted with a lot of people.
Now as he walked through the semi-crowded streets of Konoha, Naruto refused to look at the faces of people he knew were dead, or were going to be. It was only a matter of time.
Suddenly, a familiar smell interrupted his depressing thoughts and he looked up, cerulean eyes widening momentarily in surprise before they closed off again into an icy mask of indifference. It seems that even after all this time this place remains one of the few sanctuaries I'll go to when I need to think, Naruto mused, staring blankly at the entrance to Ichiraku's Ramen Shop.
"Well, I guess I'll have some ramen for old times' sake," the redheaded shinobi said and headed into the restaurant. Little did he know that his decision would be one of the significant moments to many great changes to come.
Ichiraku Teuchi, the elderly owner and main cook of the noodle shop, was used to seeing many new and interesting people come into his little shop every day. It was one of the quirks of being in the food industry, especially when said food was very tasty and came at a reasonable price compared to other restaurants in Konoha.
So when a red-haired man dressed mostly in black with the exception of the tattered white cloak hanging off his shoulders walked into his shop, he merely raised an eyebrow for an instant before calling out a greeting.
"Welcome to Ichiraku's, young man. May I get you anything?" he asked.
The stranger paused for a second, a strange expression crossing his face, and then his cerulean eyes met the black eyes of the noodle chef and the odd moment passed. A placid smile formed on the redhead's lips and he nodded.
"Hai, Ichiraku-san. I would like to try a bowl of miso ramen," he said politely, sitting at one of the barstools on the edge.
Teuchi smiled at him before turning to look into the backroom where his daughter, Ayame, was working. "Ayame, could you please prepare some miso ramen for our costumer?" he asked his fourteen-year-old, brown-haired daughter. The girl stopped sweeping the floor and nodded.
"You got it, Father," Ayame replied and went to get the necessary supplies.
Teuchi went back to the front and smiled kindly at the stranger. "Your food will be ready for you in a few minutes, sir," he told the man.
"You can call me Arashi, Ichiraku-san," the young man said. "I won't mind."
"Arashi, you say? It's nice to meet you. My name is Ichiraku Teuchi."
The young man—Arashi—smiled warmly and in that moment Teuchi thought he looked strangely familiar. And as he looked at the redhead a little more closely, he picked up certain details previously missed.
Though the blue eyes were lighter and set in a narrower, leaner face, they looked eerily similar to the face of his top costumer. And the dark parallel lines that curved down the side of Arashi's slightly tanned face at first glance looked like scars, but seemed more like whisker marks upon further inspection. The overall effect gave the wild-haired redhead a very feral look similar to the Inuzuka Clan living in Konoha.
"Arashi-san, are you by any chance part of a clan around here?" Teuchi questioned curiously.
The redhead looked at him questioningly but shook his head. "No, the last of my family . . . they died a long time ago," Arashi said quietly, his expression hidden by his bangs as he looked down. "I'm the last of them now."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring up any painful memories," the ramen chef apologized, hoping he hadn't offended his new costumer.
But his worries were unfounded because Arashi shrugged and waved it away. When he looked up at Teuchi, his face was neutral but still welcoming. "It's okay," he assured the older man. "I've adjusted to it." However, he grew curious. "Why do you ask?"
The chef rubbed his head in embarrassment but answered, though he wasn't entirely truthful. "Well, you bear a strange resemblance to the Inuzuka Clan. You both have feral-like traits and have a strange 'wild' air about you."
Arashi's face shifted to a blank, confused look before it turned thoughtful. "Inuzuka? I heard they are one of the best trackers in Konoha," he conveyed. "Though I may be a bit skilled in tracking, I'm not an Inuzuka. Actually, I'm not entirely sure what my real last name is."
Before Teuchi could question him about that unusual remark, Ayame arrived with a steaming bowl of miso-flavored ramen. With a smile, she set it down in front of Arashi and proclaimed with pride, "One delicious miso ramen, hot and ready, sir!"
Teuchi chuckled at his daughter's enthusiasm. "Ayame, you shouldn't brag yet. Wait until Arashi-san tastes it."
The redhead ignored them and grabbed the pair of chopsticks set next to his right. With a relaxed, "Itadakimasu," he broke the sticks apart and dug into the bowl of noodles. Teuchi and Ayame watched as Arashi devoured the food in less than two minutes, seemingly unaffected by the heat. And this time Ayame also experienced the strange sense that this redhead was familiar, though she wasn't nearly as subtle about it as her father.
"Hey, Arashi-san. Have you been here before? You seem kind of familiar."
The young man looked up, several noodles hanging out of his mouth in a rather comical look, especially with his blue eyes confused and eyebrows rose halfway to his hairline where a black bandanna kept his unruly bangs out of the way. It made Ayame giggle and Teuchi smirk in amusement.
"Well, I did come here a long time ago with my father, but it was only for a little bit," Arashi mentioned, a nostalgic gaze replacing his funny expression after he swallowed. "I didn't remember until you brought it up," he added predicting the question they wanted to ask.
"Then as a 'welcome back' sort of thing, this bowl is on the house!" Ayame chirped happily, grinning at the attractive redhead.
"Arigato, Ayame-chan!" Arashi said appreciatively and focused back on the delicious bowl of ramen, completely missing the blush that burned brightly on the girl's cheeks. Teuchi, though, noticed it easily.
It looks like Ayame has another crush, the old man thought in exasperated amusement. Oh, well . . . at least this one is polite. Still, this means I'll need to give her "the talk" soon. She's growing up so fast.
While this was going on, Arashi was thinking of other things. He, or rather, Uzumaki Naruto of nine years in the future of another timeline, was reminiscing of the much simpler times when he had been able to just kick back and relax at Ichiraku's and consume obscene amounts of the delicious ramen the restaurant was famous for. There had been no duties other than those assigned to common Genin, and even then Naruto had almost as much free time as he'd had before joining Team Seven.
Too bad Iruka-sensei worked at the Academy most of the day, Naruto thought, and a twinge of loneliness hit his heart. I hardly got to see him after I graduated. When he'd told this time's Teuchi and Ayame that he'd been here with his father a long time ago he'd been telling the truth, for the most part. Though his blood-father had been Namikaze Minato, the Yondaime Hokage, Umino Iruka was the one to raise him as a father. And in Naruto's life as an orphan and hated outcast, he'd learned to take anything that came.
It was only when he graduated the Ninja Academy at twelve that the loneliness began again.
Naruto smiled bitterly, staring down at the broth in his bowl and seeing his murky reflection do the same. Seems my life has been just a big cycle of ups and downs, he mused. Become a ninja, lose Iruka, meet Team Seven, be outshined by Sasuke-teme, finally get acknowledged by the jerk as a rival and best friend, but then lose him to his vengeance and Orochimaru-teme. And that's just the start of the crap in my life.
If any of his friends had been there at that moment, they probably would've been shocked to see how gloomy their normally happy-go-lucky, knuckle-headed friend had become. Of course, they had all died before the Leaf-Sound Great War became full scale, so it was likely they wouldn't have understood most of the changes he'd gone through anyway. War could change even the most optimistic of people, if it didn't outright kill them.
"Hey, Teuchi-ojiji! I'd like thirty bowls of your best ramen!" a very familiar voice shouted, startling the redhead out of his thoughts.
"Naruto! Take it easy or I'll be broke before the evening is out!" yet another extremely familiar voice scolded. This one made Naruto—Arashi's sharpened nails clench tightly into his palms, drawing blood. The pain failed to distract him from the sudden torment his heart was experiencing, as if it was being crushed and stabbed at the same time.
This is too much. I need to control myself or else I might do something I'll regret.
Closing ocean eyes that had started to glow a faint red, Arashi took a deep breath and ignored the arrival of his hyperactive blond self of the past, and the scarred Chunin that had been his father in all but blood. Unfortunately, that was easier said than done.
"Hey, mister! Who the hell are you?"
Arashi opened his eyes and looked to his immediate right where a pair of nearly identical blue eyes was staring curiously into his. For a moment a heavy silence passed in which three onlookers tensed, worried that the redhead was yet another one of those people that hated the blond for what he was. However, such uncertainties were unnecessary, for more reasons than they would ever know.
"That's no way to greet people, gaki," Arashi said dryly, hiding his amused smile at the question.
The spiky-haired preteen scowled and sat back in the stool he'd taken next to the red-haired stranger he'd never seen before in Ichiraku's. That scowl turned into a pouting glare when the man smiled and pretended to ignore him by drinking the rest of his food down in a couple large gulps.
"Hey, the name is Uzumaki Naruto, and I'm not a brat!" he shouted indignantly.
"You're right," Arashi said amiably, earning disbelieving looks from the three people watching the unusual exchange.
Naruto blinked, thrown off his rant by the agreement. "Huh?" was his intelligent response.
Arashi grinned at him, the action mischievous and suddenly reminding everyone but the surprised and oblivious blond of a fox. "You're not just a brat, but a loudmouth, too!" Arashi snickered.
Everyone face-faulted.
As usual, Naruto was the first to recover, and he leapt on top of his seat with a squinty-eyed glower and a finger pointed rudely at the redhead. He yelled, "Just who the heck are you, bastard!? And take that back! 'Cause if you don't, then when I'm Hokage I'm gonna make you pay!"
"Naruto, sit down!" Iruka growled at the boy, annoyed at his behavior. He was also worried that the boy would offend the redhead who seemed to hold no grudge against the child, and would end up driving away the friendly stranger. But once again, said man surprised everyone when he simply brushed off the boy's insults with remarkable ease.
Tossing several bills on the bar to pay for his meal, the young man stood up and smiled warmly at them. "Heh, a kid like you has a long way to go before you become Hokage," he said to Naruto. "But I have a feeling that with a lot of work, you'll make it. Just promise me one thing, Uzumaki Naruto."
Unable to look away from the powerful blue eyes that held him, the blond asked warily, "What?"
A smile curled the redhead's lips as he looked at the boy. It was gentle and proud, the kind of smile one would give a younger sibling or son. "Always cherish and protect what is most precious to you. That is where true strength comes from." He was almost at the exit before he stopped and added, "Oh, and before I forget . . . My name is Arashi. Remember it."
And then like an apparition, the strange young man named Arashi vanished in a swirl of fall-colored leaves.
A few miles away in a large building that reached a great distance skyward, an elderly man dismissed the images of a certain ramen shop from a crystal ball set on his desk which quickly turned opaque once more. This man was none other than the Sandaime Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen, and the successor of the Nidaime as well as the ex-mentor of the man to teach the Fourth Hokage. Though he was getting on in years, Sarutobi was still considered one of the best ninja ever born, having earned himself the nickname "The Professor" in his earlier days for his superb knowledge.
And as one with vast stores of knowledge, he knew that this incident was something to worry about. Sarutobi knew the faces of each and every one of his shinobi and a fair amount of citizens. The way the man that called himself Arashi carried himself was distinctly shinobi yet Sarutobi did not recognize him. The last time that happened was when his old teammate Shimura Danzo created Root. He hoped this wasn't a repeat of the past.
Sighing, he put the crystal ball away in his desk, locking it, and then got up and went to stand by the window that overlooked the whole village. "Whoever you are, Arashi, I hope your interest in Naruto isn't dangerous," the wizened man said. "Either way, I will find out who you are, and do whatever it takes to keep him and this village safe."
Yet even as he signaled his ANBU to search for the mysterious redhead with orders to escort him to the Hokage's Tower, Sarutobi couldn't stop one thought from surfacing.
Why does this "Arashi" look so familiar?
AN: And that's the end of chapter one. I have some of chapter two written down right now, but it will be a while before I finish so I'm sorry for the wait. Eh, but maybe I'll get some inspiration in the next few days since my birthday is coming up. August 7th, in case any of you wanted to know.
I want to thank everybody that added this story to their favorites and to those following it. Even with no reviews it's still nice to know that people are reading this and that's the reason why I'm posting this. I wanted to share it and I'm glad I did.
Anyway, I hope you're all enjoying this so far. See ya later!
~amkay
