Standard disclaimer applies.
IN UNLIKELIEST PLACES
CHAPTER TWO – GETTING TO KNOW YOU
.
People change. This is one of the most fundamental truths of life. Sakura knew this; she had witnessed many of these changes herself. She remembered carefree days, when all she worried about was how late Kakashi-sensei was going to be, or how to get Sasuke's attention focused on her, or how to make Naruto shut up for more than three minutes. Those days were so far away now; she remembered them as someone would remember a particularly good dream: fuzzy and warm, but unclear and always out of grasp.
As the war progressed, it became clear to all of the Rookie Nine (including Team Gai) that life wasn't fair, and the world would fuck them several times over even if they knew this. Lee's death was the first and it struck them the hardest for it. In the end, a shinobi who couldn't utilize his chakra was only half a shinobi, and against those—those monsters—Lee's taijutsu stood no chance. He was swatted away like a fly, protecting the evacuees.
The Rookie Nine, or what was left of them, eventually lost their smiles to the War, their eyes acquiring a hardness and coldness formerly present only in the older shinobi. The Konoha she knew as a child was long gone. The cheery atmosphere that made it one of the most beloved and prosperous of all Hidden Villages was replaced by a cloud of grim determination reminiscent of Iwa. People still did not believe that the War was over; they spoke of spies and secret plans even though negotiations had been held and treaties had been signed in triplicate. It was a pyrrhic victory. They had lost too much, and only gained a much greater burden than they had before. The teamwork that made their village so successful was now ridiculed—how can a village that reputedly values its people sacrifice its children to win the war? Were they only pawns? She wondered what the Sandaime would have thought about all of this, had he lived. Had he lived, would it have happened the way it did?
That said, to Sakura, Naruto was also a constant in her life. If life were a series of math equations, Sasuke would have been variable, others would have been variable, even she would be variable, but Naruto?
Naruto was a given—like pi, like the speed of light or free-fall acceleration. He was loud, brash, annoying and just a touch perverted, but underneath all that lay a heart of gold and a determination you would be hard pressed to find in anyone else. He was the hero any story book required. She had never seen Naruto back down, and his eyes always blazed with a ferocity that said, "You're never going to take this away from me," even when they weren't in a fight, even when he was smiling his stupid smile. To him, perhaps, all of life was a battle.
But now, as she stared into the tired blue eyes of this unfamiliar man in front of her, she was forced to accept that Naruto was only human too.
The Naruto in front of her now was nothing like the Naruto she knew. He was taller, for one. He easily towered over her, probably clocking at a height of six feet. His blond hair was longer, but only slightly tamed; it fell to his neck like a spiky mane. But the most disconcerting change was the stillness with which he conducted himself. The Naruto she knew could never sit still. He was a bundle of endless and suppressed energy, always babbling about something or another, always picking fights, always training—vibrant with the Flames of Youth, as Gai would put it. Yet in the few minutes they had spent staring at each other, this Naruto had not moved a millimeter. It was not an uncomfortable, rigid stillness, though the atmosphere between them was fraught with tension. It was the stillness of a predator, patiently waiting for the prey to make its move. An aura of killing intent draped itself around him, and it oozed towards her in small, lazy waves. She shivered despite herself when she finally took in his appearance in its entirety.
He was wearing, Sakura realized, a standard ANBU uniform. Was that where he was all these years? she wondered. His sleeveless white armor was worn, but in good condition. It had scratches mostly in the chest area, but there were large gashes near his lower left torso and the area surrounding his heart. He wore the black body suit as if it were made for him; the muscles he had gained in the seven years he had disappeared were clearly visible on his lean frame. His mask was tied around his waist, but when she tried to get a good look at it, she noticed it was charred and impossible for her to make out the markings except for what could have been a sharp-toothed smile.
"Sakura," Naruto broke the silence, inclining his head. His voice was deeper than she'd remembered, but the last she'd seen Naruto he had been sixteen, still a kid. They had all been kids.
"Naruto," she replied, hoping to keep the tremor away from her voice. What had she been thinking, blindly searching for him like this? So she'd found him. Now what? What did one say to someone who willingly disappeared for seven years?
He had turned his attention to the Memorial Stone in front of them, eyes scanning the names then resting on one that was unfamiliar to her.
"Did you know him?" she ventured hesitantly.
He was silent, and then, "No, I've only worked with ANBU."
The silence stretched on like a large yawning gap. Sakura bit her lip, chewed on it nervously. She thought of all the things she could ask to dispel the tension but nothing came to mind. She thought of ramen, and asking him to eat lunch with her, but that seemed intimate. Once upon a time, Naruto would have jumped and shouted, "YATTA!" at the prospect of eating ramen with her. Once upon a time. A dream of long ago.
She wanted to touch him, hug him and never let him go. Did he even know what kind of loneliness he inflicted on her by leaving, by dying like that? At one point, she had a complete team. When Sasuke left, it burned but she held on to the knowledge that she still had Naruto and Kakashi-sensei and the hope that they could bring Sasuke back. But then, in a cruel twist of fate, both her teammates died, leaving her alone, alone to brave the horrors of war. Why? she wanted to ask. The question burned her tongue. Whywhywhy? Why did you leave? Why didn't you ever contact us? Why did you let us think you were dead? Why did you leave us?
Why did you leave me?
"Why?" she blurted out, but the burning did not stop. She wanted to fling all her questions at him, wanted him to confess to her. She wanted to hear platitudes, apologies and assurances that her only living teammate did not abandon her willingly.
"Why what?" he replied. His tone was nonchalant, uncaring even, but his shoulders were slightly bunched up, and his face was closed off.
"You damn know well what!" she shouted. She felt the resentment building, a secret hoard she was never aware of opened up inside. "Why did you leave? Why'd you pretend you were dead? We needed you—I needed you! Damnit! We were a team, Naruto!"
His jaw clenched, and his eyes finally showed some unknown emotion, but he quickly looked away. His breathing came hard. "You wouldn't understand," he spat out bitterly.
"Try me," she challenged.
But even as the words left her mouth, Naruto had disappeared into the forest. The leaves fluttered and swirled around her like a light blanket.
Sakura bit back a scream and instead punched the nearest tree. Her sobs were muffled by the sounds of the tree as it crashed to the ground, sending birds and other creatures scattering noisily into the forest.
.
.
.
"Thank you for your hard work, Uzumaki-san," the man in front of him mumbled, steadfastly avoiding his gaze. He stamped the mission report and placed it in one pile, and quickly hollered, "Next!"
Idiot.
Naruto stuffed his hands into his pockets (a newfound habit of his—ANBU uniforms didn't have pockets) and slowly made his way out. The other ninja parted to let him through, thoroughly uncomfortable with his presence. He saw Kakashi sitting at the other mission table. A cursory glance revealed that the Hokage wasn't all there; typical of Kakashi to leave a bunshin to do his work. The bunshin's one eye curved up convincingly and gave him a jaunty little wave. He gave it the finger. The Hokage's assistant didn't even seem to have noticed that his seatmate was a bunch of lightning disguised as a human.
Idiot, he thought again.
Uzumaki-san, huh? Once upon a time, he would have worshipped the person who dared to give him such respect. Uzumaki-san, not brat, not dead last, not loser, not idiot, not demon, not murderer. But life was like that. It took years for anyone save the Sandaime to address him by his given name, many more before it was said with any semblance of affection. The thought of what he had to do to earn the respect of majority of Konoha's population, or at least, their fear, left a bitter taste in his mouth.
It had not taken long for the knowledge that Uzumaki Naruto was still alive to spread. It had only taken a very depressed Sakura in a drunken stupor to spill her guts to Yamanaka Ino, her oldest friend. That it happened in a bar filled with shinobi did not matter. He had no illusions about Ino's ability to keep a secret. If that wasn't enough, the rumor soon spread that Uzumaki Naruto was actually Konoha's revered war hero, the nameless, faceless ANBU Fox. Any hope he'd entertained that the village had overcome their prejudice against him with his actions in the last war were quickly quashed. People avoided him now, more than ever. He was the tiger in the cage, then too weak to do anything, now able to tear away the metal bars and devour them at the slightest provocation.
He tried to summon the appropriate feelings of anger, but more often than not, he agreed with them. Dark blue eyes forever haunted his dreams, mocking his tenuous hold on the monster he housed. He wasn't the tiger, but he was the cage. And sometimes, he could feel that he and the Kyuubi were mixing—he could not tell whose rage was which, what the difference was between killing an enemy shinobi to protect your home village and killing him for the joy of it.
Konoha had become suffocating. He looked down on the district that the roof he'd been standing on overlooked and tried to remember why he was still here. It would be so easy to leave, he thought, leave these stupid villagers to their own machinations and watch them fall to their own destruction. They seemed to be doing a good job of it anyway.
Suddenly, a flash of pink caught his eye and he saw Sakura exiting a nearby vegetable shop, arms loaded with paper bags. She couldn't possibly see him with all those bags covering her face, but he still made the hand motions for Shunshin, thinking, "But I have promises to keep."
He appeared in a much busier district, close to Ichiraku's. The tell-tale pop and smoke of the Shunshin alerted some people to his arrival, causing them to look up at him. Almost at once, their gazes dropped back to the ground and then they resumed whatever it was they had been doing. He sighed in frustration and Henge'd himself into an unobtrusive-looking civilian with tame dark brown hair and a sleepy look. He hopped down an empty alley and emerged beside a shop close to the ramen stand. He'd much rather go to the Hokage Monument, his favorite place to relax, but it was early afternoon and they usually had an army of chuunin and experienced genin working on repairing the damaged faces of the Shodaime and Nidaime.
Suddenly, a curious pair made its way to the stand and Naruto couldn't help but feel interested. The still-unfamiliar white-robed figure of Kakashi entered Ichiraku's with a young girl (probably around six or seven, Naruto estimated), hot at his heels. He waited a few minutes before also entering the stand.
"One pork ramen please," he ordered. Ayame took his order with a jovial "Hai!" She was still as enthusiastic as ever, but he suspected it was for the customers' sakes. Her face was gradually acquiring wrinkles despite her age, and gray had started to appear in her hair. Her father's death had hit her hard.
"How're you going to eat if you have that stupid mask on, 'jii-san?" The girl's high-pitched voice reached his ears.
Naruto could imagine Kakashi's eye twitching. He accepted his bowl of ramen with a smirk that looked out of place in his disguise. He quickly smothered it by taking a slurp of noodles.
"Maa, Haruhi-chan, I'm really not that old yet... you don't have to call me 'jii-san."
"I'm not stupid. You have white hair." The girl, Haruhi, pointed out stubbornly. "And don't call me Haruhi-chan. I like Haru better."
He turned glancingly in their direction. The girl was thin, and her lank, sandy brown hair was kept in pigtails to keep it from framing her already small face. She stared intensely at the Rokudaime, who had made no motion to eat his ramen. Her eyes were darting from her own bowl of ramen to his and then his face mask, waiting.
"I'll call you Haru when you stop calling me 'jii-san, Haruhi-chan."
"Don't call me Haruhi-chan, you old man!" Haruhi shouted, crossing her arms and frowning ferociously at him. The frown, however, turned out to be mostly a pout, and Kakashi chuckled lightly. Naruto frowned when he saw the eye bags beneath the girl's eyes, forming a darkening ring around her jade eyes.
"Aren't you going to eat?" He heard Kakashi ask. "Your noodles are getting cold."
"I'm not eating til you're eating, old man!"
"Me? But I'm already done eating."
Ah, Kakashi had pulled the fast one on her. To this day, Naruto still had not discovered how his old sensei did it. He had perfected it into an art form, perhaps even a jutsu—though a very useless one at that. Naruto admitted that he was still curious even though he thought he was over that particular habit of Kakashi's.
"WHAT!" The girl exploded. He could imagine her scrambling up the wooden chair to look at Kakashi's empty bowl. "How'd you do that?! You didn't even take off your mask!"
"Didn't I?" Kakashi asked airily. "Now eat up, Haruhi-chan."
"DON'T CALL ME -CHAN!" She retorted, cheeks slightly pink. But she sat back down and, with a final huff, began eating her noodles.
There was silence for a while, save for Naruto and Haruhi slurping on their noodles, before a chuunin messenger burst into the stand, panting. "Hokage-sama!" he called.
The companionable silence turned distinctly uncomfortable before Naruto registered the unmistakable sound of several coins clattering on the wood.
"Duty calls," Kakashi groaned before standing up. "I'll be seeing you around, Haruhi-chan. Ayame-kun, one more bowl for Haruhi and the man in the corner. Enjoy yourselves, it's on me."
He ruffled the girl's hair, as Haruhi struggled in vain to get away from him ("Stop—not a kid—stop it!"). His eye curved up into its inverted U shape. As he lifted up the cloth covering the stand, he looked over at Naruto and gave him a knowing smile.
.
.
.
"Now, what was so important that you had to interrupt my lunch, Konohamaru-kun?" he asked his assistant once he was again ensconced in his office.
Konohamaru eyed him in frustration. "Oh, you mean aside from you skipping paperwork again, Hokage-sama? No, I wouldn't trouble you for anything as trivial as that. Kami help us."
The Rokudaime Hokage grinned unrepentantly. He had received this lecture before. Konohamaru would pull a Shizune and rant all about his unbecoming habits, and end it with, "Just you wait, you lazy old man, I'm going to become Nanadaime yet!" While baiting his young assistant was indeed fun, Kakashi admitted that it was more of the fact that Konohamaru resembled Naruto so much that he continued doing so.
Speaking of his former student, Kakashi couldn't help but wonder what he thought of the little Haruhi, or whether he'd seen the others yet.
"... Are you even listening to me?" the spiky-haired Jounin asked, sighing as he noticed the typical signs that Kakashi's thoughts had begun wandering.
"You were saying I'm even worse than Tsunade-sama could ever hope to become?" the masked man supplied helpfully.
Konohamaru rolled his eyes. "No. I said we have a new client. He's a strange one. He asked to see the Sandaime. Must've been one of Jiji's friends or something."
Kakashi blinked. Well, this was new. "Well, you should've told me that right away," he informed his assistant, who was beginning to sputter with rage, matter-of-factly.
After a few moments, Konohamaru gave it up as a lost cause and got his temper under control. He pulled a file from the table and began reading it. "Okay. The client's Albus Dumbledore—strange name, I know—and he seems to be from the Outside. Kotetsu-san reported seeing a chakra stick on his person, y'know, like that mad guy in that legend of Nidaime?[1] The one that bullied him into giving him an army of shinobi? Then the Nidaime kicked his ass to kingdom come and lived happily ever after. That kind of Outsider."
Kakashi was vaguely aware of that legend but he had rarely paid attention to stories when he was young, so he sent Konohamaru away to fetch the man without the slightest idea of what exactly he was dealing with. When Albus Dumbledore appeared at his doorway, if his jaw had been in the habit of dropping, it would have. As it was, his visible eye just widened a notch wider.
The man in front of him was something out of a storybook. (He'd read that one book about a man named Merlin, who could do all sorts of things with chakra, except he called it magic...) The report from Konohamaru-kun saying that this man was probably from the Outside was suddenly given a lot of credence. His clothes were outlandish; he was clad in a deep purple robe, which flowed over to the floor and dragged behind him as he moved. A pointed, conic hat of the same color was balanced precariously on his head. And he was old. White hair crowned his head and hung from his jaw line, and fell way below his waist. He couldn't imagine the number of years it would have taken to grow a beard that long. He was unbelievably old, maybe even centuries old.
To most shinobi, to have lived beyond forty years old would be a cause for celebration. Death was an accepted phenomenon in their profession. You could die as soon as you passed your genin exam, or maybe even before then. At the end of any Chuunin Exam, more than half of the applicants would probably be injured beyond help or would be dead, killed at the hands of the opposing teams. Most shinobi die as genin, as inexperienced and idealistic children. Most shinobi who lived to become jounin or experience the horrors of war consider this a small mercy. This did not mean, however, that shinobi did not die after making chuunin. You can die any time. Death was unpredictable, no matter how you fight it, it would come for you eventually.
He had seen many shinobi fend off death before, in manners too gruesome and stomach-turning to dwell on. He could name a few on the fly. Orochimaru, Kakuzu, Hidan... Orochimaru he could handle—he had grown up knowing tales of the infamous Sannin, and experiments on humans were quite... normal, when you put them beside Kakuzu's 'hearts' or Hidan's Jashin. But whatever the means had been, it was clear that they had, in one way or another, sacrificed an integral part of their humanity.
But this man in front of him was none of those. Albus Dumbledore, if that were really his name, was really just a man who lived long enough to be anyone's grandfather. It was mind blowing. Kakashi could not begin to imagine how Outsiders lived for them to sustain life this long.
He suddenly realized that he had been silent for over a minute, lost in his musings. He coughed. "I'm sorry, Dumbledore-san. Please take a seat."
To his surprise, Dumbledore bowed deeply before taking his seat. His eyes, Kakashi noticed, were twinkling behind half-moon glasses.
"I understand that you have visited Konoha under the impression that Sarutobi, our third Hokage, was still alive," Kakashi said. "Unfortunately, he died a decade ago, protecting our village when it came under siege from neighboring villages. My name is Hatake Kakashi. I am the sixth Hokage of Konoha. What is your business with us?"
For a moment, Dumbledore positively withered. He became aware of the radiant aura that surrounded the man in that instant it was gone. Dumbledore was powerful, and most possibly a great leader in the Outside. He would regret it if Dumbledore had less-than-amiable thoughts about his village; it would be a loss of a potentially great ally.
"Sarutobi was a dear friend of mine. I met him when he was visiting Scotland. I taught him for a while—he was a most eager student especially in Divination.[2]" Dumbledore bowed his head before continuing, "My condolences. His death was probably a very big loss to you."
"It was," Kakashi replied. He tried searching for any sign of falsehood coming from the old man. There was none. Either he was sincere or a very good actor. "Thank you for your kind words."
"My original intention in coming here was to request a favor from Sarutobi, but now that he is dead, I think it best that we start from the beginning."
Kakashi nodded to show that he was listening.
"I am a wizard. Sarutobi told me shinobi had no notion of what wizards or witches are, but you have more or less grown up with tales about what magic is. Simply put, a wizard has magic, and can channel it using a wand or by concentrating very hard. It is something akin to your chakra. As of now, theorists are still studying the origin of magic and its composition and there simply haven't been any breakthroughs in research so far, so I am ill-equipped to tell you what the exact difference is."
Kakashi was sure his face betrayed nothing of his disbelief (that's what he had the face mask for after all), but Dumbledore still smiled and reached for a pocket in one of the folds of his robe. He pulled out a thin... well, there was no other way to put it for Kakashi... it was a twig, a varnished eleven-inch, white twig, but a twig nevertheless. The chakra stick from Kotetsu's report.
"This is a wand. Sarutobi didn't believe it the first time I explained it to him either," he told Kakashi with a small wink. He waved the twig around and said something unintelligible, and a flock of birds burst from thin air, and started flying around his office, chirping noisily. A few of them perched on his file cabinets and started hopping aimlessly. A few spotted the open window and took off into the outside.
He found himself asking, "Are these real?" Yes, smooth move, Kakashi.
"No, these are magical constructs, illusions if you will. They'll disappear in a few minutes. To create something, that is, to transform magic into mass, requires a tremendous amount of power and concentration," Dumbledore explained.
Kakashi nodded. "Please continue."
"I am the Headmaster of a prominent wizarding school called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Several decades ago, a man who calls himself Lord Voldemort surfaced and started terrorizing the citizens of the magical community. A majority of our citizens are Muggle-born, meaning they were born magical without any magical ancestry. Muggles are those without any magical abilities. On the other hand, Squibs are those born from magical families but by some anomaly of fate, have no drop of magic in them. Purebloods, those whose ancestries can be traced to more than ten generations, generally find this an affront to their heritage and culture, and supported Voldemort's rise to power and his efforts to rid our world of Muggleborns, Squibs, and Muggles.
"When his efforts in legislating the purge of Muggleborns was going too slowly, he started pursuing other means. He began attacking Muggleborns, even going so far as to killing whole families at a time. He also attacked those who opposed his cause, even if they were purebloods. Alongside this, he had also started making himself immortal. Those were dark times. His reign was horrible indeed. It came to an abrupt end when he chose to attack the Potters. After he had disposed of Lily and James Potter, he shot the Killing Curse at their infant son, Harry. For reasons unknown, the Avada Kedavra, or the Killing Curse, hit Harry's forehead and rebounded. Lord Voldemort was hit with the backlash of the curse and disappeared.
"The general population considered him dead for over a decade, but his efforts in making himself immortal were not in vain. He lived on, as a spirit, possessing other bodies and searching for ways to regain his old body. He finally succeeded two years ago, in Harry Potter's fourth year at Hogwarts. We were hosting a tournament, and a servant of his had successfully snuck in and impersonated one of our professors. He successfully kidnapped Harry and used his blood in order to recreate his body. Our Minister of Magic did not believe us that Lord Voldemort was alive and had returned to power.
"A year later, at the end of Harry's fifth year, Voldemort made a public appearance in the Ministry lobby and everyone was finally forced to accept that he was back. Ever since then, he has made overt shows of power, and has amassed all his old followers. It is the beginning of Harry's sixth year now, and I fear for his life. Ever since he was a baby, he has already been considered by the entire wizarding community as a symbol. He is their savior. Voldemort has been aggressively pursuing Harry's death, to make a statement and to remind the world of his power. To lose Harry would be devastating.
"This is why I am compelled to hire a guard for Harry. Hogwarts is one of the safest places in our community, but it cannot offer much in terms of protecting a single individual. Armies can be protected within its walls, when the attacks are large in scale, but Hogwarts is as open to subterfuge and deceit as any other place is."
If he had been a lesser shinobi, Kakashi's head would be reeling. But had he been one, he would not be Rokudaime Hokage today. Kakashi ignored the extraneous information. He didn't need to know what muggles or magic was, or even try to understand half of what the old man was saying. If he was telling Kakashi everything, that is. He had a sneaking suspicion that Dumbledore was hiding something. Clients usually had their secrets anyway, and shinobi were taught at an early age not to take the client's words as they were. Look underneath the underneath.
However, unearthing the salient details, he thought with almost sadistic satisfaction, would fall to whomever he assigned to this mission.
And the mission was a simple thing (in theory anyway, and Kakashi knew how everything could go wrong with theories). Albus Dumbledore needed a bodyguard to protect Harry Potter from a dangerous megalomaniac named Lord Voldemort.
"I would be happy to help, Dumbledore-san," he began, "however, our village is still recovering from a major war. Most of our forces are out in the field, stopping small skirmishes, or rebuilding the village. We cannot send out a team of shinobi for your purposes. The most I can spare is a jounin-ranked ninja."
"My boy!" Dumbledore exclaimed. "One shinobi is quite enough. Harry is a difficult case. He views any effort to protect him as coddling, and will do anything to sabotage it. Who did you have in mind?"
In one day, he'd been called both an old man and a boy. He sighed internally. He supposed Dumbledore was old enough to call anyone a child but still...
His thoughts inevitably strayed to Uzumaki Naruto, as they were wont to do these days. Being out of ANBU had not helped Naruto in the least. He had grown more taciturn and had refused contact with everyone from the Rookie Nine and Team Gai. Kakashi found that he couldn't blame him; he had been like that once. The villagers' reaction to his continued existence probably didn't help either.
Naruto had been taking a lot of missions that took him out of Konoha for days on end; Kakashi put a stop on that lately. But perhaps, that was exactly what Naruto needed. A break. Some time out of Konoha. Away from prying questions and wary glances.
Finally, he spoke, "The shinobi I am thinking of is Uzumaki Naruto. He is a jounin, formerly captain of ANBU. I was forced to take him off ANBU because he had overstayed the number of years for ANBU duty, but rest assured that he is still one of the best we have to offer. He specializes in large-scale, destructive and offensive attacks, but over the years, he has amassed a repertoire of low-key techniques to make him a well-rounded shinobi. He excels in stealth, speed, information-gathering and close-range combat. However, following his removal from ANBU, he has a bit of trouble interacting with people but he was good with children when he was younger."—what an outrageous lie, Kakashi thought—"I believe this will be a good experience for him."
Dumbledore nodded slowly, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "I don't mean to question your judgment, Hatake-san, but can I meet this Uzumaki fellow?"
"It is no problem, Dumbledore-san," he assured him, making a hand signal to his ANBU guard to go and get Naruto. There was no sign that the ANBU was ever there, or that he had ever left, save for the sudden lack of one more chakra signature in the room. He idly wondered whether Albus Dumbledore had noticed his guard. "While we wait, would you like some tea?"
He looked around his office for tea, but he wasn't much of a tea person and didn't make room for a stash of tea leaves. He continued awkwardly, "I'll send my assistant for some."
"No problem, my boy," Dumbledore said cheerily. He pulled out his wand again and made some more motions, and an ornate porcelain tea pot, steaming at the spout, and two equally ornate tea cups with handles appeared on his desk. He raised his eyebrows.
"This is Earl Gray," Dumbledore explained, pouring some into both cups.
"This is not a 'magical construct', I hope?" Kakashi asked jokingly, taking a cup, but making no motion to pull down his face mask. There was a reason why he did not appreciate tea: he ate and drank in the blink of an eye, so all tea tasted the same in the end.
Dumbledore chuckled. "No, this is a conjuration of a different sort. You see, the tea and the pot and the cups already exist somewhere else, specifically in my office back in Scotland. The spell I used simply manipulates space-time in order to bring the tea here in such a short amount of time."
Kakashi leaned forward, his one eye gleaming in anticipation. What manner of things could he learn from Dumbledore? Perhaps he could use the knowledge to improve his Mangekyou Sharingan. "That's very interesting, Dumbledore-san. Exactly how does this spell work?"
"Cookie?" Dumbledore offered, gesturing to a plate of cookies he just conjured. "That's a rather hard question to answer actually. Hmm, let me see..."
While the wizard stroked his beard in search of an answer, Kakashi quickly drew back his face mask and downed the cooling tea in one gulp. 'Yep, they all taste the same,' he thought, sighing.
.
.
It was a testament to ANBU Bear's tracking skills that he found Naruto within three minutes after the Rokudaime had given his order. Or perhaps it was because his former Captain was visibly lounging around the Hokage Monument, his back flat against the stone head of the Sandaime. It was strange, he mused as he stared at his captain's shock of yellow hair, to know who your captain had been. Most dealings in ANBU were under a need-to-know basis. Your comrades' identities were not a need-to-know—you were expected to work well with anyone, emotions and personalities aside. ANBU was all about skills, talents and secrets. Records about your time in ANBU are confidential, even after you have been dismissed.
His time under ANBU Captain Fox was terrifying. The man was a taskmaster, cold and unyielding. He did not allow for any mistakes; every mission was to be completed perfectly. No stray kunai to be found within the premises of the politician you just murdered, no one was allowed to see you and be left alive. "Leave absolutely no evidence that Konoha was behind this," he often said. As if to absolutely contrast the harsh reign of Fox, their new captain, Deer, was lax. His only comment on the occasional mess up was, "Tch, how troublesome." Bear often suspected that Deer was a Nara, although which one it was he couldn't tell.
When the rumor came out that ANBU Fox was actually Uzumaki Naruto, to say he had been shocked would have been an understatement. However, to be fair, he would probably have been just as surprised to know that it had been one of the many seemingly-harmless chuunins, or Maito Gai—well, maybe more surprised if it were Gai, he amended. He had been content in the knowledge that he would never know who his comrades in ANBU were. Naturally, he had been suspicious at first, but all the pieces of the puzzle had fit. The Hokage himself had not come out with an official statement about it.
And then there was Naruto himself. He had suddenly come back from wherever he had been (assuming he hadn't been in ANBU) and he had changed. There was no denying that. Instead of the boisterous prankster he'd remembered from his Academy days, there was now a cold, withdrawn man who seemed to only live for missions. That seemed to match perfectly with Fox's clinical personality. He still didn't understand what could have happened, and he didn't pretend he ever would. But he did understand that the man in front of him was not a demon, nor had he ever been. It was unfair of the villagers to think of him as such. Unforgivable, even.
But there was nothing he could do about it. He hopped from the branch he'd been crouching on to the place where Naruto was lying down. Or had been lying down. His former captain now stood in front of him, slouching slightly. His hands were nestled in his pockets and he was staring off at the space above ANBU Bear's right shoulder. After a moment, his blue eyes redirected their gaze to his mask, running over the red and brown curves that stained the bone-white.
Bear thought of his captain's mask, the leering, bloody fox, and how it had always commanded in him a strange sort of fear. He wanted that mask back. Uzumaki Naruto's eyes scared him than any ANBU mask ever could, their piercing cuprous blue reminding him of how blue the sky had been when they had made the sacrifices to avert the Massacre. His heart was heavy in his chest.
Bear lowered his gaze, and even if he was masked, he was sure Naruto had sensed it.
"ANBU-san," the blond man greeted politely.
"Naruto-san," he returned. "The Hokage wishes for your presence immediately."
Bear raised his eyes, and saw a flicker of a frown cross his old captain's face.
"Understood," he replied absentmindedly. Then in a swirl of dry leaves Naruto was gone.
Bear lingered for a few moments, raising his head to look at the sky. The sun was setting, the clouds drenched in gold and orange. Beyond, the orange sky was fading to midnight blue. There were rain clouds in the distance, gray and powerful. He shook his head. He wondered what Naruto saw through his blue eyes.
.
.
.
Just as Dumbledore was starting to explain magical theory concerning space-time ('To a shinobi, no less!' he thought with amusement. 'How I wish wizard folk were as interested in magic as this man is.'), a small wind gathered at the center of the room, swirled, and suddenly he was looking at a tall man with messy blond hair, dressed in the customary dark green vest and navy blue body suit.
"Naruto," Kakashi began in a tone that he could identify as fond exasperation. "Ever heard of knocking?"
"I was told that you wanted to see me immediately, Hokage-sama," the man, Uzumaki Naruto, replied dryly. Albus was suddenly reminded of Severus Snape—a blond, blue-eyed Severus Snape. His hearty chuckle drew the attention of the two shinobi.
"Is there something wrong, Dumbledore-san?" Kakashi asked.
"Nothing is wrong, my boy," he answered, smiling. "I just had an amusing thought."
"Very well then. Naruto, this is Albus Dumbledore, a wizard and master of a wizard school. Dumbledore-san, this is Naruto, the Jounin I was thinking of assigning for your mission." Naruto gave him a curt nod. Kakashi continued, "Do you want to see a demonstration of his skills, or..."
But Albus shook his head. He had already sent out a weak Legilimency probe, skimming the surface thoughts of the man in front of him. Naruto's blue eyes remained as they were, telling him that he had not sensed the intrusion. Kakashi continued to brief Naruto about the upcoming mission, equally oblivious. This was not something he particularly liked doing, but it needed to be done especially when assessing the motives of strangers.
The man was angry, and Albus was once again reminded of Severus. His thoughts had undercurrents of loathing and frustration, and a deep inconsolable pain. However, there was nothing that overly worried Albus; this man would do the job, if asked. He was about to pull back when he touched upon something... different. Alien. It was red, angry and ancient. It hated—no, loathed—the world, wanted it to spiral into destruction—blood, carnage, the world up in fire and smoke—and it sensed him. The thing, that ancient, feral thing, reared back and snarled at his invasion.
"Whatever it is that you're doing," the guard's cold tone broke through his thoughts. "I suggest you stop."
He quickly cut the connection and found himself shaking despite his efforts to still himself. What was that?
"What were you doing to my shinobi, Dumbledore?" The Hokage demanded, standing up and fixing him with a one-eyed glare.
"He was snooping in my mind," Naruto supplied after a moment's silence. "My... tenant sensed his presence."
"I apologize for my intrusion, I was simply trying to determine—"
If possible, the masked man's countenance turned frostier. "Save it! I do not want to hear your excuses." he hissed, sitting back down and rubbing his temple. "I will honor your request for a guard this time, out of respect to Sandaime-sama, but I suggest you wizards tread carefully next time."
"Naruto!" he barked. "This is a year-long bodyguard mission Outside of the continent. Ranked A-class or higher. Do you have any objections?"
"None, Hokage-sama."
"Very well, pack whatever you need to and come back." Kakashi turned his gaze to him. "I assume you will be leaving immediately?"
"Yes, we will be traveling by Portkey," Albus replied evenly.
He did not notice when Naruto had disappeared, though the room seemed to shrink around him and the Hokage. The silver-haired man was radiating a suffocating intent, though it was quickly subsiding as the man's glare turned into a more assessing one.
Albus was silent.
After a while, he spoke, "What you saw or felt in Naruto's mind is none of your business. Rest assured that it will be of no consequence in this mission. I understand why you did it, Dumbledore, but understand this: Once a shinobi is bound by contract, he will fulfill it no matter what personal misgivings he may have about the entire business. I hope this will curb your desire to look into minds in the future. It is not looked lightly upon here, and not in your part of the world either, I dare say."
"I apologize for my actions, Kakashi-san. It will not happen again."
Kakashi's one eye stared at his for what seemed like eternity, before he dropped his black gaze and said, "Let's discuss the payment now, shall we?"
When Naruto reappeared, it was almost as if he never left. Albus had expected at least a backpack for his things. He looked at Kakashi, who didn't seem fazed in the least. The silver-haired Hokage stood up to clap Naruto on the shoulders and whisper something into his ear.
Blue eyes narrowed, and then, "I wish I can say the same thing for you, Sensei. Have fun with your paperwork," Naruto finished with a saccharine smile.
"Whatever, Naruto," Kakashi replied, chuckling. "Dumbledore-san will be giving you all the details when you arrive. I'll be coordinating with him to send you supplies when you need them. I'll also be sending someone to check up on you and to get your report every so often so be ready."
"I think it's time that we leave," he interjected hesitantly, not wanting to ruin the cheerful banter between the two. "I have some business to catch up on, and I'm afraid we might already be late for a meeting."
Kakashi nodded and Naruto stepped forward. Albus pulled out the Portkey, a thin Muggle fountain pen. The shinobi raised their eyebrows impassively.
"This is the Portkey," he said by way of explanation. "Just hold on to it and—"
—whoosh—
—and they were gone.
.
.
.
NOTES:
[1] Konohamaru is referring to Gellert Grindelwald, who visited the Shinobi Nations on his rise to power and foolishly tried to bully the Nidaime Hokage into giving him an army of shinobi. The Nidaime did not "kick his ass" as Konohamaru so colorfully put it, but he did encase Grindelwald's whole body (save the head) in ice and left him to stew in his own idiocy while he let the body float down the coast. If the magical community had been aware of this, they would have probably strangled the Nidaime for not just breaking his "chakra stick" in the first place, and saving them a whole lot of trouble.
[2] Sarutobi + Divination = All-Seeing Crystal Ball of Doom? :))
Some concerns I'd like to address:
1. I don't see any pairings happening (but I might, in like 10 chapters or so). Just because I am a NaruSasu or NaruSaku fan doesn't mean I'll be incorporating it into this story. If you really want to see romance, a) convince me why it should be in this story, and b) be prepared to beta what will be really crappy romance scenes. :)
2. This story will probably be slow with not much action. If you've read Pridian Moon by SalineRabbits (and you should!), In Unlikeliest Places should be something like that. In my head, anyway.
3. I don't have a beta reader, so I really don't know how confusing this fanfic is for some of you. It's meant to be confusing, but not in the I-have-absolutely-NO-idea-what's-going-on-! way, but the I-wonder-what-happened-in-the-seven-year-time-gap way. So, if you have any questions, please post them, otherwise I'll assume I'm doing everything right.
Oh, by the way, is it Shichidaime or Nanadaime? O_o;
Reviews make my heart skip a beat, and make me write paragraphs at a time. Thank you to all those who have reviewed! I can only hope that this story will live up to your expectations.
A Happy New Year to everyone!
EDITED (2/28/2009): Changed Shichidaime to Nanadaime for reasons outlined to me by TwinTrouble. Thank you! :)
