Nezumi no Nindo

I own a rat, and he is twitchy, but no onus is on me to prove I own this franchise, for I do not.

Tunnels and vermin, light and lies.

It was only days before Naruto had entrenched himself firmly in the tunnels that lay beneath Konoha.

He had found them in his haste to create a hideaway, which even he knew was a foolish attempt. No one hid from Inu-san, but he had to try anyway. But more than he knew lay down there under the sub-basement of his lilting, freshly fumigated home. As he was hauling a mattress from that had been abandoned by the squatters that previously inhabited this place, the floor collapsed from under him in a shower of splinters, dirt, and debris.

He was bathed in darkness.

He pulled out the small pocket lighter he had filched from the Uchiha twerp that sat in his class and made quick work binding together some rotted floorboards with rags, before lighting the mess and holding his torch into the darkness. It did little good as the inky black seemed to stretch on for miles without end, but with only minimal trembling he took his first steps forward before veering round a curve and out of sight.

Tunnels.

Miles upon miles stretching everywhere in sight, all held together with massive beams of wood that seemed to come from nowhere, most likely the shodaime's work. Even more of them simply hewn out of bedrock in straight, unerring lines towards the heart of the city. These were mostly collapsed, but had the stench of Iwa-nin about them.

It was perfect.

Hidden out of the public's callous eye, he could work down here, live down here. Not even Anbu would think to look for him down here, and if they did it would be days, or weeks before they would track him through the immense labyrinth that lay before him. After moving all of his necessities down to the entrance he'd found, he had spent the next few days just mapping out the caverns and passages using ink, paper, and stolen rope to keep himself tied to his apartment. As the days stretched into weeks and eventually into his entire summer he had finally done it. Every nook, crawlspace, and hoard were burned into his brain. Oh and were there ever hoards. After every major war was done there were always a few squatters and indigents that would stay in the tunnels after they were evacuated of the decent, honest folk that scurried there for shelter from the explosions above. But they were always cleaned out by the ninja in the months to follow, sometimes so quickly they had no chance to pack up what belongings they had, leaving them worse off than if they had stayed in the district. Now it all lay forgotten, and his to claim, and he wasted no time in setting up many separate places to live, some near the secret entrances and some far into the heart of the catacombs.

The entrances were many and varied, from a rabbit hole under the root ball in a tree to the floor boards of most of the clan halls, although these were under fuinjutsu alarm and locking seals he did not dare attempt to break. But even barring those he could not leave by, Naruto never needed to leave his den to reach anywhere in the city. From Ichiraku's in the Grand Markets to the top of the Hokage monument the world was his now, and he knew exactly what to do with it.

School had arrived once again to Konoha, and few but the chuunin had noticed the changes in pallor and gait of the smallish boy in the back corner. He had lost a great deal of colour compared to his classmates vibrant tans, although the shadows and his ragged cloak hid most of him from sight. He was hunched and bent from crawling the smaller passageways, and his bone white skin hung loosely over his emaciated frame like a dirty sheet hung over a laboratory skeleton. His grin was both frightening to look at and ever present, and his eyes were sunken into their sockets, surrounded by deep blackish circles. He appeared like a ghost, lingered like the stench of death, and vanished as if he were an apparition, but still he went on with the classes, following orders without question and handing in impeccable work that was soon expertly altered to near failure by increasingly disturbed teachers.

Although his grin never faded she could see the fire in him was twisted and pulsing, yet fraying at the edges. These were all signs, forced into her by her clan, of a broken mind. She was certain that one day this shrivelled husk of a boy before her would one day unleash his insanity on the world, and there was no where she could hide to escape it.

Under her gaze, his grin grew imperceptibly wider, and she shivered as, not for the last time, a deep fear she could not name took hold of her.

October Tenth, and the demon was no where to be found.

For the first time in living memory the festival went on without its scapegoat, even as roving packs of men hunted the back alleys for their sport. Along with these were the ninja, flitting like deadly butterflies from roof to roof, bringing out the hunting dogs from the kennels and, without needing anything of his, they began to forage for his scent. This game was as well known to them as it was to their pack mates, the Inazuka, and each vied with the others to taste the brat's soft flesh.

Far below, a sound none had heard since the third great ninja war was being made.

-Clink Clink Clink-

It was the sound of a tool slowly chipping away at hard packed earth.

He worked tirelessly into the night, feeling neither the slow throbbing ache that was his existence nor the jarring impacts running up his arm as the knife struck. He only had limited time before the guards would be found in their hunt for him, or give up altogether and come back to their posts and most of that was taken up by the Hokage "treating" him to ramen. Once he had an in he could search at his leisure, so long as he was careful, but for now he would have to work as fast as possible before the festivities wound down. Even so, it was all he could do to keep the Old Dictator's newest cryptic threat out of mind.

"You really should be doing better in school Naruto. Good ninja have good foundations, and those without don't have very long careers." he muttered blithely to himself, forcing feeling back into his hands, which were now shaking from both effort and fear.

That fear was quickly burned away with hate, hate for the village, for the Old Bastard in His High Tower, never having to fear the sun. Hate for himself for bowing like a cowed sycophant before Him. Soon it would all change he reflected as he gave a great heave to the boulders lined up along the edge of the pit before leaping out of the way. As they fell their ropes pulled taut along the pulleys, and with a jarring impact, the rocks each reached the ends of their noose as the bits of metal jammed all around the wall groaned, the iron bending and rope fraying before finally, with a great rush of air the stone gave way and collapsed outward into the tunnel, obscuring all in a great cloud of dust.

When all was settled, Naruto scrambled up onto the foot thick slab of concrete and peered into the darkness, his eyes well used to it's secrets.

There, sitting before him in haphazard heaps and piles, was the shinobi archives.

His mask, one of flesh and sinew, slipped down genuinely for the first time since so very long ago. A true smile that in no way gave away it's verisimilitude. As his skull-like visage grinned he could think of only one thing to define this moment.

"Happy birthday to me."

For over a week, Naruto had starved.

For over a week had he thirsted, had he searched, and now finally it was his.

He knew what all academy students knew of chakra, knew that it was binary in nature, and yet each piece was tied to the other. If body was suffering, the mind would follow, and so it would go that even though you were only neglecting part of yourself, both halves of your chakra reserves would lower. He knew that this meant he should be escaping with his prize to claim sustenance from one of the many storehouses and hideaways he had built. He knew he was in no shape to be attempting any jutsu, even the simplistic Henge they had already learned, much less something as complex and draining as a summoning. He knew this could kill him, leaving all his self made promises of survival as good as the air he'd spent for them. He knew, and yet as he signed in blood and made the seals with still wet fingers he did not so much as care.

"Kuchiyose no jutsu." was whispered on a rasping, bone dry throat. The smoke rose, harmless, but acrid and horrid to his lungs as a wheezing, rattling cough rose, taking the last of his air and sending him into spiralling unconiousness.

"What is it, we wonder. What is it down here in the cold that has summoned us." a sound between a cackle and a chitter rose from the lump on his chest.

"Water..." he managed piteously, his eyes swollen shut by the same pain that ravaged his body.

"We brings it water, it is not well. But what is it now? It smells of dirt and illness, it smells of us. It smells of things we have not sniffed in decades, and things we have not ever smelled before." the lump shifted, and a small nose bumped against his chin.

"Hu... human." he grasped the flask he could feel cold against his side, lifting it gently before downing its contents whole. The water was brackish and smelled of eggs, but it was welcome.

"No not human, never human no matter how much it wants to be." An agitated chitter was somewhat muffled when it slipped down his jacket to his navel, "Aha, we see aha. It is a carrier, and so it lives as human as it once was so long ago. But it is ill, for the scroll was poisoned, this we know. It is a carrier though, and it may live, but no matter what, human or corpse, it is ours."

Remarkably, when next he woke he could see, and the fire that had ravaged him had subsided into his former dull ache. He levered himself up on one elbow to stare back at the beast he had met in his fever dream, laying curled about itself with it's head toward him.

It was immense, larger than a Kiri wharf rat, and nearly bald with mange. What fur did remain was mottled grey, although the head was a shiny, greasy black that raised toward him, even as he stared, and opened its unseeing eyes.

"Who are you?" he ventured, attempting respect where he'd never before.

"This one is Nezumaru, the Older and last and first of the Thirteen. I am the waiter at the gate, looking outward to the mists in anticipation for our next master. We are... disappointed."

His world broke, and he sat in silence for awhile.

Finally, he realized the rat seemed to be waiting for an answer, "I am sorry I don't meet your specifications. You may go back and wait again, until someone else finds you."

"Be silent little one. Living or corpse you are ours, and no words can change that. My sadness is that the traitor still lives that we may call him lord, and more so that we cannot strike at him from the realm of beasts to end his unnatural existence. Now who are you, little one, that would bind yourself to us in lordship, then offer freedom at no cost."

"I am Naruto, and I wish vengeance on those that wrong me."

"No vengeance, but survival. You who have the fearstink about you knows this. You have seen vengeance and its power has been against you so you covet it for yourself. But know what we tell you lordchild, vengeance is a poison more lethal than any other. Everyone touched by it must wash clean, or else be taken to the grave."

"Then tell me, what does a rat fight for?"

"Survival only, nothing else. It is many things, food, water, mates, but never is it vengeance."

After guiding the old rat to his current home, he listened to the power that now lay at his fingers. The great horde was decimated as Orochimaru's first sacrifice to Manda, the snake god, and of the Council of Thirteen, only Nezumaru remained. Though their numbers had been repopulated, there were problems. Until Nezumaru died, a new council would not grow, and until Orochimaru died, a new lord of rats could not be named. Without the title, there was still much available to Naruto, though the Rat God Onizuma, was beyond his grasp, as was the dead soul reanimation technique, Edo-Tensei. The first thing he learned was bone detachment, which allowed him to collapse his skeleton and fit into any space as small as his head. It also provided a basis for the Nezumi-ken, a style of taijutsu he had to summon on hidebound scrolls from the summon realm. Summoning rats was simple and straightforward, more chakra, more rats, but the real power behind the rat clan were jutsu. Ancient, deadly kinjutsu that had been devised by the sickest minds to ever hold the scroll, held in trust by the Horde for the next generation. Techniques that could rot flesh and dissolve bone with one touch, genjutsu that were built from the hellish nightmares of the insane, and an entire style of puppetry based on the reanimation and manipulation of flesh. Arts of disease, slower than poison but insidiously infectious, and untreatable by all but the greatest medi-nin, and earth jutsu that took advantage of his unique physiology to create a network of passages only he could access.

A year passed, and then another, as he threw himself into working with the rats to perfect these and many other techniques. He took and failed the academy exam both times, and at their latest meeting the Hokage had told him, "I'm certain you'll pass next time Naruto, you just need to work harder is all." He saw it for what it was, the false cheer transparent before his eyes. With his network tracing beneath the city, he had seen the dark underbelly of this city, read reports that matter of factly stated war crimes, massacres, and atrocities committed by Konoha nin. He knew the cost of failure, seen set in black and white with the death of the white fang. He had to offer a penance, or he would have fire and death again in his home. He racked his brain for a task great enough to keeps the eyes of the village off of him for awhile, stroking one of the many summoned rats that lounged about as he fretted in his chair. A benefit of having so many pulled into this world was that to keep them there was a constant drain on his considerable chakra reserves, allowing him to direct what remained with more finesse and use the deadly genjutsu at his disposal. Besides this, rats had been continuously running through his network, filching things unnoticed from an array of warehouses and shops. Most of it was used to feed the horde, but he had first choice of the equipment and clothes before it was broken down into nesting materials.

Perfect, he thought as he glanced over the scroll in his hands. He would fulfill these bandit missions, anonymously, and provide the villagers with a mystery and the Hokage with a message. He would be of use to the Hokage yet, and perhaps even meet his own needs in the process.

"Hey Yure, what the hell are we doing out in this blasted forest anyway?"

"Well you sorry excuse for a thug, those tree huggers out there send out caravans all the time, most of em with little kids playing at ninja guarding them, so we hug the roads, and when they come around these bends we nab what goods we can before the babysitter comes down on us. That's what the boss wants, and that's what you signed up for."

"Makes sense I guess, Gah! What the hell! Flies are out thick tonight."

"That aint a fly you damn twit, that's a flea, why didn't you tell me you were all infested like."

"How would I know, this bugger just bit me. Holy shit Yure lookit that."

"What's got your panties in a twist now you deformed sissy?"

"Shuddap with that and take a look at this, where that damn flea bit me it's all sweelin up and leaking green shit."

"I told you you shouldna slept with that gal over in Tanzaku mate, everyone knows she's got that new crawling skin disease that's going round. Now get to sleep ya lunkhead, scouts say the next caravan should be here fore sunrise."

Bandits, heh.

Overblown thieves that swarm over travellers, then run at the first sight of ninja. If Naruto were a more poetic sort he'd find some form of solidarity in their tactics. As it was, it boiled down to his life, or theirs, and cowards blood would do just as well as any others for what he had in mind.

By the next morning every bandit in camp had been bitten by the plague flies, and every one of them were paralyzed by the pain that wracked their bodies. Those well enough to open their eyes were greeted by the sight of flesh sloughing off their own bodies, melting into pools of green pus that sat stagnant around them, only to be joined by their blood as veins and arteries burst under pressure. In a few days there would by nothing but skeletons left, the disease seeping into the ground and tainting this clearing for years to come.

For now though, Naruto worked quickly to drain those few whose suffering had ended prematurely, and collect the tails of the plaguevermin that had perished under the heels of these bandits last night.

For a year it continued this way, hoarding tails and blood, and anything that could be of use from the camps' supplies, before borrowing another scroll and doing it all over again. The villagers were in a panic as rumours of deadly diseases swept the country, and the Anbu were on increasingly high alert, but the Old Man knew, Naruto could tell in every jerk of the eyes or hint of a smile that he knew. The skulking one would like to think he approved. After all, no masked ninja had come to flood his tunnels with fire, no knives flying out of dark corners those few times he was above ground. In fact besides a new fashion involving bacterial screens over everyone's faces, something he could tell Inu-san heartily approved of, things were quiet in the Village. Well, a few things did happen. Good things.

"Ayame, start wiping down the counters, nearly closing time." a few late patrons groaned as Teuchi's voice rang out from deep inside the shops.

He smiled at their antics, beginning the long process of shutting down the grill as he mopped his brow. Just as he was finishing the last step, an almost inaudible scratching sounded behind him, and he whipped around, taking his blunderbuss out from under the counter and aiming it at the hunched, ashen grey figure that had frozen in the shadows of his store.

"Naruto? What are you doing here?" he didn't move his gun in the slightest, still wary of what he knew to be at least a semi-competent ninja.

"I was coming in to see if I could get a bowl, seems your closed though, I'll just slip out the back then shall I?" his voice was grating and hollow with disuse, like old bones rattling in a freshly robbed grave. Teuchi's eyes narrowed as he noticed one leg, mostly covered by the boys ragged cloak, was lowering into a previously unnoticed hole.

"Stop." his voice rang out authoritatively, prompting a flinch from the skeletal child in front of him.

"There's still a burner on, come around front and I'll make you a couple miso, okay?"

The smile was warm, but it never failed to chill the old chef to the bone.

After a quick juxtaposition, Naruto was sitting in front of a bemused Ayame, slurping noodles like there was no tomorrow.

"So Naruto, how did you get up in my shop like that?" Teuchi's eyes sparkled with interest and something he couldn't identify, but The Skulking Nin decided to bare all. It wasn't like he couldn't escape from a few more civilians if need be.

"If live in the tunnels below the city, most of them are small enough that only someone like me can get through them," he held up his arm for emphasis, and they watched, mortified, as the skin hung loosely and flapped in the breeze. They could clearly see the outline of all his bones and arteries, and yet there was muscle, tightly corded around each bone that seemed to twang and knot and he waggled his fingers.

"Just how far do these tunnels go?" Ayame's father leaned in over the counter, his face set in a way she had hoped she would never see again, although deep down she knew that it was always under the surface.

Naruto ignored the calculating look for the most part as he slurped down the dregs of his first bowl, "Wherever I want them to. If there's something I want, I'll dig my way to it, and you can bet by now I've been to most places I can get to around this city." a slight cough punctuated that as long disused vocal muscles were set to work.

"Bearing that in mind, I think I may have a proposition for you son. How'd you like to work for the Ichiraku family, strictly off the books of course."

"Daddy..."

"No sweetheart, I've been lying low too long, and if this is my chance to get back in the game, even just for awhile, I'll take it."

Again, that smile, full of yellowed teeth and undisguised malice, was clearly visible from under his shaded hood, "What do you have in mind?"

It was a simple job really, Ichiraku's wasn't doing so well anymore with new, and admittedly better, restaurants opening over in the ninja quarter, so for a small stipend and free board he was to sabotage their supplies and copy over their recipes. In barely a week he had hit them all, and earned the Stand so much profit that him eating free, no matter how much he ate, was barely a dint in their coffers.

"And then there were three, heh."

The Aburame let out an inquisitive grunt as he passed, dropping off a sack of scrolls and explosive tags as he crossed into an adjoining tunnel.

"It's nothing you need to concern yourself with Shino. Just fond memories."

As he disappeared from sight, Shino pushed his glasses up in obvious amusement.

"Heh."

Shino had been at a loss for some time, but he finally had the means to find out how Uzumaki could disappear to and from the classroom with an ease that bespoke jounin levels of stealth. Not many would voluntarily look at the cloaked figure, as gruesome as his features were, but Shino knew that the small boy was hiding some truly impressive skills beneath his willowy frame. Now though, he had finally bred enough kikai that one of his females could be used this way, without losing a valuable part of the hive. Just as he predicted, by the time the bell rung, the boy, and the bug attached, were nowhere to be found, and from that point the chase was on.

Naruto quickly leapt, scurried and crawled to the most expendable portion of his lair that could serve as a greeting place for his wily pursuer. He had carefully noted the scrutiny he was under by the Aburame, which only added to that he got from the Umino and the Hyuga, and was ready for such a confrontation. Like the Hokage, that ever looming shadow of threat, this one was too important to go softly into that sweet night, although its threat was lesser, and it would be more easily appeased.

As Shino stepped into the next cavern, he saw a torch flickering and knew it was for his benefit. He was expected.

"Welcome curious one, would you like your spy back now? Or perhaps a hostage would be best until after our deal is sealed." though he spoke in whispers, the natural acoustics threw the echoes around the cave, giving him no clue as to the whereabouts of his quarry.

"Perhaps." Shino ventured.

"You keep your calm, Sir Carrier, though the ones with you are agitated. In this, we are much the same." a jar dropped from the ceiling and shattered, releasing his female to fly back to him, and the voice seemed to smirk as it scuttled quickly under his coat, "You have me here, just as we have you, so let me begin the barter. I have at my disposal a certain breed of flea that is responsible for the current... illnesses that hae caused so much hysteria among the gentler folk of our fair Village. They are hard to handle, even for one of your particular talents, but in them lies the cure, as well as the poison. Were your clan to make the discovery there would be much prestige to be had, so very much indeed. In exchange you leave me and my brood alone, and perhaps acquire something things that, with my natural aversion to the lights and laughters of the world above, I have not had the oppurtunity to get. Do we have a deal?"

"Access to the tunnels."

"Only those you can fit through, none more."

"Deal."

A heavy thump sounded out, this time clearly behind him. Even as he turned the figure slowly rose, extending a bony hand out in greeting. He grasped it readily, though he was unprepared for the bones to shift unnaturally under his grip like clay on a potters wheel.

"Bargain made, bargain struck."

And so ends the childhood of one that never was a child if there ever was one. I'm getting so little feedback on this little tale of mine that it's encouraging me to take it in places I'd never dreamed were possible, even for my twisted mind. If you have a direction you'd like me to go, rather than off the rails that is, by all means drop some feedback and I'll see what I can do. If you'd rather I ramble into the ether like the madman I am then I'd oblige you to tell me so, if for no other reason to know that more people are reading this than the voices in my head. That said, Bon nuit, may the night swallow you whole, then find you tasteless and spit you out covered in a dark, somewhat incorporeal slime, but mostly none the worse for wear.