Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Naruto.

Beta: Duesal10


Swinging Pendulum

Chapter two: The fox and his Jailors


Sharp violet eyes glinted through the haze. Iced waters swirled and swished around her ankles with each stride. Her hair, usually twirled up into twin buns cascaded down her back in a red waterfall. Beside her, thin pillars of marble-like material rose through the air like skyscrapers, and a thick layer of mist clung to the air, shielding the little seal covered shrine squatting almost daintily in the middle of it all. However, the shrine was anything but dainty, considering that its somewhat unwelcomed, mangy furball of a charge would have blasted a hole through its walls had it been flimsy.

There was the density of raw, unfiltered power rippling through the air. She breathed in deeply. A little globe of white rock encased in ice hovered in the corner of her vision, unperturbed by laws of gravity. Reality did not apply in this domain—her domain—only her rules came into play.

Uzumaki Mito despised going into her mindscape. Where she stood in the middle of brilliant waters that reminded her a little too much of her home, her Uzushiogakure with its endless skies and ringed beaches.

The fact where the majority of the times she had wandered into the place were because something—or rather someone had managed to knock her unconscious didn't help. The last incident this happened was when some Inuzuka brat had the grand idea of pranking his superiors, and in a horrified effort to scavenge her burning scrolls, Mito had unthinkingly lunged into the house, dragging the Inuzuka boy with her. They were both unconscious by the time Tobirama came around the corner due to the noise and doused the flaming house with his one of his signature water jutsus. The moment Mito had been cleared from the hospital; she had made sure to cover the entire Inuzuka compound with itching powder in retaliation.

Unfortunately, being knocked out was the easiest way to establish a meeting with her resident furball. Mito found that residing in a state close to unconsciousness worked just as well. The other route was meditation, but doing that took hours on the end, especially since her seal was so airtight. In times like this when she actually wanted to talk to the fox, or gain more leeway to supercharge her powers, it was a pain.

If the seal hadn't been acting up, this conversation wouldn't even be needed. She had figured that the fox had gave up trying to bribe her into letting him go a decade or so back. Obviously not, as the concentrated bursts of chakra from the seal every hour or so signalled a renewed vigour in the activity.

The feeling of hatred was a mutual thing. The fox didn't like her, she didn't like the fox. He was ginormous. He was powerful. He could be controlled like an obedient little puppet. This was simply to keep another Uchiha Madara from happening, although she doubted that anyone else would be as batshit insane as Madara to pull off a plan like that, or nearly as powerful. It never hurt to be careful.

Slowly plodding towards the shrine, Mito carefully swivelled around the protruding tips of budding coral unfurling in elegant bursts like flowers. Her bare feet remained perfectly dry, even in ankle deep water. Her strides slowed as the mist parted into a wispy gateway, and a road of fine gravel and minerals replaced the glazed waters.

The shrine was exactly the same as the last time she had visited. It's bright reds and whites a stark contrast to the softer lilics and blues making up the rest of her mind. A panel of double French doors lined the entry way, and a thin barrier of mist cocooned the entire building. From her spot, standing sullenly at the bottom of the stair well, Mito caught a blurred reflection of the Kyuubi on the glass panels of the door. All fiery red and orange, chained down by heavy seastone and strings of flimsy ink on paper.

The Uzumaki stepped up the stairs, resting one pale hand on the brass knuckles dangling off the glass doors. A seal lay taped in between the crease, acting bravely as a shield against the scowling mound of chakra inside. Mito raised one hand and traced the elaborate seal work with her fingertips, careful not to damage the near-translucent rice paper.

Carefully plucking a corner with her thumb and index finger, Mito meticulously peeled off the sheet, her free hand resting on the opposite edge to steady her grip.

There was a slight shift in the air. Something unmistakably powerful had been unleashed with the simple difference of a slim sheet of paper. Creaking, the doors open inch by inch, devoid of the glue keeping them together.

Chained in the centre of the room, grinning madly enough to give Mito premature heart failure had she been a lesser woman, the Kyuubi tilted his head in what seemed like satisfaction. Over what, Mito wasn't sure, but she doubted she wanted to know. The last time they had a "talk," Mito had unceremoniously told him that she would tear off his balls if he didn't give her chakra. She prided herself to be one of the more logical amongst her hot-headed Uzumaki kinsmen, but the ingrained family trait got her from time to time. Squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin so that she stood her full height, Mito implanted one foot into the room, barely blinking at the sudden chill of deep-set melancholy worming itself into her mind. The temperature shifted dramatically, moist, warm air caressed her clothing.

"What is it that you want?" Mito narrowed her eyes, hands clenched to her side.

The Kyuubi's eyes glinted with ill-concealed mirth. "Foolish human," he drawled, almost lazily. "I have a preposition for you." The fox looked more nonchalant than she thought was possible despite being chained up and decidedly powerless. Had he been a human, Mito decided he would be eyeballing his nails in the universal sign of disinterest.

"I don't accept contracts from you, Kyuubi," she bit off with a snarl. She had learned her lesson the first bunch of times. There was the first time with the incident of a pervert trying to peek on her, the second time with the pedophile trying to seduce children, the third time when Tobirama had refused to be her precious little Tsunade's god-father, and the last bit when she was facing Iwa-troops a while back. The former three, she had partially blacked out in anger and didn't get to enjoy the wrong-doer's begs for mercy. The latter was when she killed a group of her own comrades in battle. It was easier to just force out a few tails she could control on her own. Any intervention on the Kyuubi's part was like trying to eat a Nara's deer. A bad, potentially fatal course of action.

The Kyuubi's grin faded a bit, but it came back in full force a split second later.

"I was expecting that," he said. "Very well, very interesting." Mito inwardly scowled. What kind of game was he playing here? "However, this is something you can't refuse, little girl," he chuckled, a rich rumbling sound paired with a devious flash in his eyes that made the hair on Mito's neck raise. "Sooner or later you'll have to accept."

She composed herself carefully. "Riddles Kyuubi? How unlike you," Mito said.

"It will come to you. Someday. Whether or not you know when you have honoured this contract is up to you," the fox yawned, placing his giant head into his paws. He blinked at her lazily.

"I have never agreed to a contract of any sort. You speak nonsense Kyuubi," Mito shot back. Was it her or was the fox a little less malicious then usual?

"Don't argue with me, human scum. Why I would offer your kind any compensation is beyond me," he snorted.

"So why do you offer. If for nothing but your own freedom," Mito challenged.

"You don't get a choice in this Mito," he said, without benevolence, though it was more mocking than spite. "Humans are such moronic creatures. There is much happening in this world beyond your control. This is not your chessboard to play."

"Then it is not yours either."

The fox shrugged, causing the chain of seals keeping him down to ripple. "Perhaps."

"Don't so smug Kyuubi. One day when I die, I'm going to bring you down with me," Mito clenched her fists.

The Kyuubi merely raised his tails, bringing them down onto the shrine floor. The building shuddered, seemingly collapsing around them. Mito's surroundings disappeared in a snowstorm of white and red. In the real world, the same red-haired woman blinked open her eyes and cursed.

She would need to be very, very careful from now on. For whatever that thrice-damned fox had planned.


Breathe.

His head aches, and his body is frozen, burning with unjustified pain. Bones quake under waxy, crimson skin stained with blood, the smell of burnt flesh and choking smoke perpetrates the air. Lightning crackles overhead, it arches in long curved grooves and strikes down the wicked and the good. The sky runs red.

His eyes snap open, the blinding spots and sudden waves of startling nausea keeps him incapacitated, blue pupils dilate in shocked anger, staring at the incoming danger.

Twin lightning bolts twist and twirl around each other in a deadly dance, aiming from the bloody heavens down to him in bursts of pure power. His mind hazes over.

No time for plans. No time for habits. Act.

Now.

He rolls to the side, muscles screaming protests to his brain, but sheer adrenaline and the will to live triumphs over all else. There's the sound of a thousand elephants trampling onto the ground. A shrill, hoarse scream that might have originated from his own throat, and when the patchwork of rock and trampled dirt he resided in a split second earlier is torn asunder by a wash of brilliant white light, his body burns. Thin trickles of electricity spark greedily along his arm, traveling up the disabled limb and curling around the base of his collar bone. A blood-curdling scream rings through the air a split second later as he spasms violently.

There's nothing but disintegrated stone and dancing dust mites all around him. Craters filled with ugly brown stains and bleached bones litter the area, the remnants of what were once living breathing people. The smell of fire and lightning and ohKAMIthePAIN reduces all his senses to nothingless.

But he's alive.

There's a thin paper cup at his lips, and calloused hands holding up his head. He's too numb, unable to feel a foreign presence even when it's so close. A familiar voice echoes in his ears. "Drink," she says, tilting the paper cup, precautious. He opens his mouth, nearly chokes on the cool liquid, before gulping it down in small, slow sips.

Grimed pink hair brushes across his forehead. He cracks open one eye, the soothing warmth of medical nin-jutsu brushing over his fried nerves as logic and rationality finally flies back in. "Sakura-chan," he croaks. The girl pauses, and retracts the cup.

Sakura heaves him up to his feet, one arm swung around his shoulders. "Naruto,"She reassures, before rapidly adding," you're going to go in hiding for now," her voice is soft, enough so that no one but he can hear, almost as if she's expecting a sudden ambush. "Shisho and Kakashi-sensei have set up a cabin in the woods, you have stay there," her eyes are grim and hard from the days of endless carnage at the hands of the two madmen still tearing through their ranks as if they were made of paper.

He pauses, not quite believing his ears. "WHAT!" he screeches, indignant, wrenching his arm from Sakura's and nearly toppling over in the process. "What do you mean I'm going into hiding—"

"Naruto," Sakura's tone is calm, stern, and impatient, almost like a mother talking to her child. "Look at yourself Naruto. You can barely stand, let alone do anything else. You need to heal, get better. You're the only chance we have of winning this war Naruto!" Her eyes flash dangerously.

"Bu—"

"No buts. Sasuke and the Kages will hold down the fort for the time being," she interjects, before fishing out a large, red rimmed scroll. "Shisho wants you to go through Jiraiya's old belongings. See if there's anything useful inside that can benefit our current situation." Sakura drops the scroll into his hand. "The coordinates are one the scroll." Blinking furiously, she gently eases one hand on his shoulder in a reassuring gesture, and gives him a small, tired smile. "Go Naruto."

"But-" he grinds out, a streak of bullheadedness and denial mixed together in a swirling concoction keeps him rooted to the ground.

"No buts," her face shadows over. "You're going if I have to punch you all the way there. Understand?" As if to prove her point, Sakura gives him a superficial push to the direction of the forest.

Stumbling, he tightens his grip on the scroll, and nonchalantly glances back. Sakura's still there, hands on her hips, giving him an I'm-watching-you kind of look. He turns and ducks his head.

The scroll weighs a ton in his hands; he's tired, so utterly exhausted that he can just barely accumulate the energy to hoist himself upright. Not that he'll tell that to Sakura.

Miles behind him, in the shadowy abyss of the newly made craters and upturned mountains, there lies a battle. One commenced by two irrational me. That is to say, they were stark, raving mad.

One battle they are losing in terms of power. The Juubi Jinchuuriki tears through the surging forces of shinobi like a knife in melted butter.

Yet, there was a sure-fire way to end this, Obito might have drowned in the depths of the Uchiha curse, but he still has emotion, logic and rationality cemented within his mind. The fact that he hasn't submitted to the Juubi's all destroying tendencies and gone overall homicidal like a rabid animal proves it. As long as Obito can be reasoned with—has the emotions and brainpower of a human being. Perhaps this is what makes humans the most terrifying of all creatures. Their very intelligence, the thing that amounts to emotion can be so easily twisted by truths and lies. A loving hero can choose to destroy the world in the timespan of an hour. A hideous villain may try to protect the very family he was trying to terminate. If you take a mother tiger's cubs, no amount of reason can ever stop it from hunting you down and tearing you limb from limb. Humans are different.

Whoever said words had no power was a fool.

Emotions and rationality. The keys that led to the undoing of some of histories' greatest. Nagato was like that. So was Gaara, and the thought that he could maybe one day see his parents again, feel that tender love, was what drove Orochimaru down the path of immortality. SasoriKazukuItachiSasukeObitoMadara. Betrayal, loss, loyalty, love, hatred.

Love.

Even he himself could have spiralled down that path driven by love and loyalty for his village and his precious people.

All it takes is a few simple words, a streak of hidden intentions and terrifying intelligence-ones that can be realized even without outside help, which can turn the tides on those emotions and bring forth hell. Lies, truths and half-truths are not all that different to each other, all of the can be carefully manipulated to fulfill the situation. Other times, the human mind draws conclusions on their own. Like Obito to Sasuke.

It is the same thing that can convert people back.

He twists his hand through the coarse fabric of his Konoha headband, and stops short in the middle of the road, a speech already forming on his lips.

An end to this madness.

His brow furrows.

Sakura. Yes where is Sakura-chan? Wasn't she in front of him not five seconds ago? Heart hammering in his chest, he falters once again. The scenery shifts.

All of a sudden there's DEATHANDFIREANDSHRIEKS. Kakashi-sensei appears in front of him, screaming as his flesh melts from his bones until there is nothing left but a skeleton. He stands there rigidly, too frozen to do anything but stare with wide eyes. Sakura's next, her skull is crushed and arms broken before she too is swallowed into the inferno. Then comes Tsunade-obaachanandGaaraandSasukeandKonohamaru, and even old man Hokage and Ero-sennin. The world disappears in a kaleidoscope of red on red.

He screams.

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP.

… Huh…?


BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP.

"… Ughh." Clouded blue eyes snapped open as thin streams of October sunlight sneaked through the gap in the faded curtains. Going from one extreme to another was typical of shinobi. Naruto sat bolt upright, one hand going under his makeshift pillow to feel the cool touch of a metal kunai. Slowly, he relaxed, unclenching and clenching his fists, noting how distinctly clammy his hands were. No one got out of a war unscathed. No one.

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP.

He twitched irritably.

"Stupid alarm," the blonde muttered.

BEEEEEEEE-CACHINK.

Naruto stared down blearily at the newly broken frog-shaped alarm on the floor, somewhat uncomprehending. Five seconds ticked by slowly, then: "… I shouldn't have done that… that was the THIRD alarm clock in three days-dattebayo," he grumbled. The noise was irritating, and despite his unruly habit of over sleeping, his other habit of attacking anything that made noise like a good little ninja was proving to cost him quite a few yen. He could have bought at least five cups of instant ramen with that money too.

Naruto turned heel and started towards the bathroom.


Three hours later…

Uncapping the pen, Jiraiya pressed its tip onto the first page of the neatly stapled package in front of him, stalling. The scratching noises of a writing utensil on paper were the only sound in the room, their chunin instructor—a thin man with a mop of scruffy brown hair who went by Hotaru-sensei—watching languidly from his position in the little loveseat at the front. An almost impeccable tremor in his temple.

Sneaking yet another glance at his new teacher over the makeshift barrier of newly distributed folders, Jiraiya carefully tilted his head at just the right angle. Making sure to keep his eyes down slightly as if he were skimming through the questions. All attempts at concealment soon flew out the proverbial window as he rapidly slapped a hand over his mouth, muffling a half-hysterical snicker with the sleeve of his yutaka. It was a good thing he was had chosen a seat at the back of the classroom. Detention on day-one wasn't a particularly appealing prospect.

The unfortunate chunin was blanketed from head to toe in a heavy layer of sparkling glitter, parades of tar and duck feathers in his hair, courtesy of a meticulously arranged, fool proof plan. There had been a complicated contraption settled scrupulously above the desk, which Jiraiya just knew was Naruto's exceptional handiwork. He had this oddly comprehensive, and entirely out of character twist to his features this morning, one that bloomed into an impressive show of facial elasticity when Hotaru-sensei had strolled in rather be-raggedly through the door. Grinning dementedly, the blond had eyed the man with reminiscences of childish delight lighting up in his eyes.

The moment the young man had elegantly dropped in his chair, the bucket above him was discarded of its occupants, showering him with sparkles and glue. In a (useless) effort to avoid any more humiliation, Hotaru-sensei, having glanced up and caught wind of the other bucket, tipping precociously on its edge, hastily back flipped over his desk.

It was unfortunate that Naruto had covered all the bases.

Barely a split second later, the man had indeed flipped. Except it was not the usual, effortless acrobatics practiced by ninja. This time, he was horrendously off-balance when the chair had risen with him, cemented firmly to his pants. The movement was more of a face fault than anything else, punctuated by a string of obscene curse words and a red faced chunin, followed shortly by a chorus of rambunctious laughter and quiet snickering originating from his new students.

Even Orochimaru's lips had curled into something reminiscent of a smile. (Not that he cared, because he didn't. It wasn't as if he was friends with the bastard. Seriously. Oh-SHUT UP.)

That was two hours ago.

Jiraiya watched as Naruto nibbled on the back of his pencil two seats to his left, and Orochimaru's precise movements as he effortlessly ploughed through yet another question.

He was still wondering how the hell that bastard managed to gain access to the academy.

Damn prodigies.


"OROCHIMARU?!"

"You gotta problem with that?"

"It's Orochimaru."

"… Sooo?"

"He's a bastard."

"First impressions don't count."

"He's girly."

"… Well his hair is kinda long… at least he doesn't call you by retarded nicknames…"

"Retar—What?"

"You don't want to know."

"Orochimaru…"

"We'll bring in Tsunade-ob-I mean chibi too."

"But… Orochimaru."

"… Umm… are you talking about me?"

"… … He was behind me this whole time wasn't he."

"…Ehehe..maybe?"

And you knew that the world was ending when Naruto's the one taking the logical side of the argument, not to mention trying to convince someone to sit with OROCHIMARU.


Gulping down the last bit of broth from his bowl, Naruto licked his lips, content, and carefully balanced his fifth empty cup of instant ramen onto the little tower made from its predecessors. Inches to his right, Jiraiya sat cross legged on the weathered picnic table. One hand curled around a red-trimmed scroll the size of a water bottle. The other hand shoving warm meat buns into his open mouth like a starving animal. Orochimaru and Tsunade had glanced up from their respective activities of taking notes and chakra exercises to eyeball Naruto's near inhuman appetite, the former staring with amused inquiry while the latter's expression bordered disgust.

Somehow, through a flurry of trickery and insistence, Naruto had managed to swindle Orochimaru into the little group.

"Soooo," Naruto started, wiping his hands on his shorts. "Let's introduce ourselves." Again. "The name's Uzumaki Naruto, six," he piped. "My ambition is to be Hokage. I like ramen-sama, orange-sama, and instant ramen. I dislike perverts" Despite being settled with one as a mentor every single time. "The ridiculously strong and insane cause they try to do things like taking over the world by using the moon," he finished, saying everything with a straight face.

There was a moment of tentative silence.

"… What was that last one again?" Jiraiya asked.

"Yes," Orochimaru said, checking his hearing. "Can you repeat that?"

"Trust me, you don't want to know," Naruto promised sagely. They really didn't. Especially because Madara's grand plan was so ridiculous it would be decidedly impossible if not for the even more over the top techniques sported by some of history's strongest. And even then… the whole genjutsu plan was still a bust. Like what the heck? How would people eat? Or sleep? Wouldn't they just die off from starvation or something?

"Senju Tsunade, I'm five years old," the sole female of the group butted in. "I like gambling, money, sweets and watchin' Great Uncle 'Rama and grandma Mito do ninja stuff. My ambition is to be the greatest female ninja ever," she mimicked. "I dislike idiots and people who look down on me 'cause I'm a girl." Never mind that a single meeting with Grandma Mito could change their mind to the point they would be grovelling on the ground.

"Orochimaru. Just Orochimaru. Age five," the pale one said quietly. "I like books and helping the elderly. My ambition is… to be a great ninja. I dislike drunks and people who flaunt their wealth. And… that's… it." Naruto pondered this for a minute. This Orochimaru was surprisingly…normal. A little introverted and a bit of a bookworm, though there was still a spark of arrogance. His skills evaluation done earlier by the instructor spoke volumes about his intellectual abilities… but in terms of personality, he was so not-weird that it hurt. The guy wasn't even dead set on becoming Hokage yet! Naruto turned to the last of the quartet, silently urging Jiraiya to hurry up.

"Jiraiya," the person in question introduced. "Age five, I like training and my older brother. I dislike Orochimarurules and adults. My ambition is to be strong." Naruto blinked at his friend's matter of fact presentation. His professionalism was disturbing. Maybe he should give Jiraiya a nice, long pep talk. Kami forbid he started brooding like teme. Then again, Jiraiya had turned out fine in the actual timeline. Ero-sannin had never acted this mature.

The introductions came to an abrupt halt. And with it all flow of conversation as three child-toddlers and a de-aged time traveller sat awkwardly around a wooden bench, fidgeting with various objects. "Um… what 'bout a secret base?" Tsunade said sullenly. The three boys stared at her blankly.

Orochimaru blinked owlishly. "A secret base," he repeated, as if trying to find the hidden meaning in those words.

"Huh?" Jiraiya said.

Naruto just stared at them, completely lost. "What?"

Tsunade frowned, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind one ear with her chubby fingers. "I mean, we're friends, and friends have this top-secret meeting place to talk stuff," she looked at them expectantly, eyes melting into chocolate goo and a perfect replication of a kicked puppy. "… Right?" Naruto nodded mutely, a little fascinated at just how Tsunade managed to pull off that expression with such mastery. Well, even obaa-chan was a kid once upon a time. Beside him, he could see his fellow males doing the exact same thing. Tsunade brightened up considerably. "Okay!" she chirped. "How about the clan compound? Grand uncle 'Rama lets me play in it."

"But… isn't the meeting place supposed to be a secret?" Orochimaru spoke up tentatively.

Tsunade considered this for a second. "Oh, right." Technically, Naruto pondered, if no one knew that they were using the house as a secret base except for them, than it would still be a secret, except the house wasn't exactly a secret because there were always maids and people wandering around, so that made it a not-secret base? Tsunade wouldn't like the sound of that, he decided, she wanted a secret base. And was being in a six year old's body reverting his mental facilities back to a kid's? His train of thought did not make as much sense as it used to.

"I have a place we can use," Naruto offered. His apartment was rather empty, and he knew that Orochimaru's orphan status and Jiraiya's unbridled distaste for his current living conditions made their offers in this secret base business next to nil, unless one of them had been building a secret passageway to a secret space, which was highly unlikely. Three pairs of eyes zeroed onto him expectantly.

"Where?" Tsunade-chibi asked.

"My apartment," he said bluntly. It would need some cleaning up, and maybe he should hide his stock of ramen just in case any of the trio decides to sneak one out.

There was a moment of prudent silence…

"Naruto," Jiraiya said, staring at him flatly. "You don't have an apartment."

Naruto looked at him indignantly. Ah, the tact of children, or lack therefore. "Yes I do!" he defended.

"You didn't have one a week ago," Jiraiya persisted, unbelieving.

"I have one now," he said.

"Really?" Tsunade grinned, eyes sparkling. "Then we can go to your place after the academy ends, 'kay?" On reflex, Naruto found himself nodding once again, followed by Tsunade's hoot of efficacious triumph and Orochimaru's almost flabbergasted expression. They haven't even known each other for a day!

At that precise moment, the bell began to ring obnoxiously; startling Jiraiya to the point the white haired boy nearly fell off his bench, instead, crashing into Naruto. The blond kicked him off with a cry of "bastard!" And Jiraiya, suddenly sporting a new black eye retaliated with another punch aimed for Naruto's nose. The continuing fist fight had the delighted cackling of Tsunade and Orochimaru's half resigned, half amazed expression cheering them on until Hotaru-sensei dragged the two boys of them back to class by the fabric of their collars.


Four streaks of differentiating colours rocketed out of the academy at a near-inhuman velocity the moment the last bell of the day sounded. Two of the four were being dragged by their ears courtesy of one Tsunade, because Oro-chan looked as if he didn't really want to come and Jiraiya-kun was too slow. While the other blond of the little group led the pack, dashing with a child's enthusiasm through the Konoha's many alleyways with ease, if occasionally stumbling from overreach.

Tsunade observed all of this with an expert eye as she urged Jiraiya-kun and Orochimaru-chan to speed up. She knew that many people, especially adults in particular, underestimated the perceptiveness and intelligence of young children, more so when they were blabbing about tea parties and speaking with a limited vocabulary. Why wouldn't they? Children were small and cute, and the era of warring clans were but a distant memory for most. There was nothing none of the cultivated wariness that had been held nearly half a century ago, where toddlers were taught to kill before they could speak and the fingering of a kunai was the only graduation gift you would get before plunging into a bloody battle field. Here, under the rule of the Nidaime Hokage, five year olds, shinobi children or not, were still children.

But she was Senju Tsunade, granddaughter of Senju Hashirama and Uzumaki Mito, grandniece of the current Hokage. So even when other little girls giggled and looked on uncomprehendingly, Tsunade would slap on the half-mask of childishness and watch carefully from behind the veil, categorizing the slightest flash of detail just like how grandparents and parents trained her to.

Tsunade noticed something very off about Uzumaki Naruto.

He was loud and obnoxious, and surprisingly articulative like Oro-chan and Jiraiya-chan, but Tsunade had long since categorized her group of boys as abnormal geniuses. He had an air to him, the slight feeling at the back of her neck she always received when looking at a shinobi. Shinobi and shinobi children were very different from the normal civilian children, the thieves, the orphans. Beneath the guise of eccentricities there was always something a little off, something that had seen death and gore at its finest, knew a dozen ways to kill a man with but a little chip of wood. In this time and age, most shinobi children didn't have it, wouldn't have it until they graduated and face the terrors of this world.

Naruto had it.

It was decidedly suspicious.

Whether it was due to his luck or some higher power, the boy still unwittingly managed another day without the mistrustful gaze of the Hokage on his back.

Thing was, Tsunade was still a child herself, and despite her perceptiveness, logic was more or less overcome by instincts. The slight tug in her gut told her to trust Naruto, told her that he wouldn't do Konoha any harm. Look underneath the underneath, her grandparents had told her sagely, but wasn't the underneath of the underneath the top? Adults had the flaw of over analyzing, the beauty of children was that they did not have the patience or reasoning to over think thing. So instead of reporting Naruto's questionable loyalties to the higher ups, the creeping ivy of mistrust and suspicion in her fellow blond was easily discarded and forgotten after a slim time slot, slipping into the depths of her mind.

Halfway through the journey, the four had fallen into a steady jogging pattern, even though Orochimaru-chan seemed a little worse for wear. The streets of Konoha blurred, alleyways bled into neighbourhoods bled into roads. Tsunade didn't even realize she had entered the red-light district until the people changed. The clean fresh air of the outer districts was replaced by the smell of sex and alcohol and smog, the buildings were cobwebbed and cracked, and citizens moved in cheap, sometimes ragged clothing.

Hesitantly, they followed Naruto into a little apartment building, tiptoed up the stairs and scrambled through a doorway that was quickly shut behind them. Jiraiya and Orochimaru quickly collapsed into an exhausted heap. Tsunade sat down with a little more dignity. Naruto bounced around anxiously; he did not even seem to feel the chill of exhaustion.

The walls were painted a ridiculous shade of orange with white ceilings; a stained mattress with a suspiciously clean comforter lay in the corner, and a run-down kitchen was stationed to the side. Despite the dangerously crumbling appearance of the building, the interior was in surprisingly good condition.

Jiraiya shifted so that he was sitting cross-legged. "I'mma gonna kill somethin'," he groaned, reverting back to coarser speech patterns. Orochimaru followed suit, giving Naruto a half-hearted glare before he collapsed. Tsunade had noticed that Orochimaru hadn't really want to go somewhere with people he'd barely known for a day, but had affirmed that she would drag him kicking and screaming if needed. Hence the red and still throbbing ear.

Naruto placed a chipped kettle on the stove, humming. "You guys want ramen?" he offered over his shoulder. Three varied replies of grunts, cursing and a polite yes came in confirmation. He shuffled over to a closet and threw open the doors, muttering to himself.

Tsunade paused, and stared.

She had been quiet, a little too quiet, because Orochimaru and Jiraiya heaved themselves off the ground and followed her gaze.

Something clattered noisily onto the floor, Tsunade had suspicions it was the scroll Jiraiya had been holding onto for the entire morning. Jiraiya's jaw dropped.

"'Ruto," Jiraiya gaped. He pointed a single finger around wildly. "How-where-HOW…?!"

Naruto blinked and pivoted on his heel, staring back at them blankly.

Behind him, the inside of the closet was roughly that of a small bedroom. Tsunade suspected that it had been a bedroom, once upon a time, before the space had been cleared for other purposes. Now, piled towards the ceiling, all diligently organized, there was the largest stock of ramen Tsunade had ever seen in her short life. There were no signs of anything else edible in the apartment. Naruto did not have a fridge. Did he live off instant ramen?

"Is all that ramen?" she wondered aloud.

Naruto gave her an offended look, a cup of pork flavoured noodles in his hands. "Course not! I've lots o' stuff behind there. Ramen's the most important so it's up front."

"How'd you afford all that stuff?!" Jiraiya marvelled.

The blond shrugged. "I do odd jobs around the village, got some money. Eh…there were bargains, and some of 'em were scavenged," he patted his kettle affectionately.

"Did you live in the orphanage before this?" Orochimaru inquired.

Something dark flitted over Naruto's face. It was gone so quickly Tsunade figured it was a trick of the light. Or maybe not. Maybe he had been placed in an orphanage before this, and something happened. The red light districts were places of anarchy and criminal activities, the Hokage did not have as much power over its people as he did the other districts of Konoha.

Naruto scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Dunno. Maybe. But I don't remember that far back. Grew up around this place, ya know?"

Tsunade nodded.

Naruto poured the hot water from the kettle into three ramen cups, carefully handling the meal. Smoothing out the lids so that steam wouldn't escape, the ramen was settled onto the grainy counter. He sauntered over to where Tsunade rested, plopping down onto a cushion. "Anyways," he grinned, "Do any of you know about tree climbing?"


The first time around when he had been small, circumstances were different. Six year old Naruto had very different views and priorities then sixteen year old Naruto. He hadn't all the sneers and cold, dead eyes, hadn't liked being thrown out of the orphanage and left to scavenge in the streets of the red-light districts for himself. At least there, the people were so caught up in their own problems that even the Kyuubi brat meant nothing to them.

Six year old Naruto had not liked Konoha.

The sexy no jutsu and its variations were a little side effect. Under the cloak of the jutsu, he did not have to be himself. Naruto could have been anyone he wanted to be. He could be an idiot, an airhead, an optimist. The red-light district of Konoha was his playground and he was the puppeteer to the little group of players he had crafted.

Back then, Naruto hadn't liked being Uzumaki Naruto.

Fifty years meant next to nothing, as the major roads and alleyways were almost identical to the future's, Naruto was glad for that. It made getting around a lot easier. When he became Hokage, he was going to give the area a makeover, a little slice of appreciation to its people. Preferably in orange.

The buildings were still crummy, a good thing at this point because in hindsight, teaching a trio five year olds tree-walking was not the brightest idea he has ever had. Geniuses or not.

"You motherfuck—" THUMP

And there went ero-chibi.

They had evacuated his apartment an hour earlier for the room next door when he had attempted to tree-climb indoors, and blew a hole in his wall instead. Damned chakra control.

Tsunade-chibi was the first to succeed after ten—twenty minutes of trial and error. Her large reservoirs and superb chakra control was Senju heritage, their distant Uzumaki cousins had received the former but none of the latter. Orochimaru had the second greatest progress, but he had forgone climbing to remain limply on the floor do to chakra shortage. Jiraiya's success was hovering somewhere above zero.

"Naruto!"

Ignore him. He isn't there. The blond chanted stubbornly, eyes glued to the wall, hands spread horizontally like a bird in mid-flight to maintain balance.

"OI NARUTO! NARUT—" Ignore. Ignore. Ignore. "—Come on you blond haired wuss—" Ignore. Ignore. Ignore…wait, WHAT'D HE CALL ME?! Why that freaking –THUNK

"YOU BASTARD!" Naruto screamed from the ground. "I WAS ALMOST AT THE CEILING. AND I AIN'T A WUSS!"

Jiraiya scowled. "How did you do that?" he said impatiently.

"I was almost at the top!" Naruto wailed.

"SHOW ME HOW YOU GOT THERE!" Jiraiya matched Naruto's ear-splitting volume.

The gears churned in his mind. "Wait a minute." Naruto stared at Jiraiya incredulously. "You," he pointed a finger at ero-chibi. "Made me." The finger was redirected to point to himself. "Fall down to teach you tree walking," he reiterated, jumping back onto both feet.

"Technically, all I wanted to do was to get your attention. The falling down part was your own fault." Jiraiya replied theoretically.

"Answer my question!"

"Then… yes." Jiraiya admitted, he waved one hand in a flippant gesture.

There was a beat of prudent silence as Tsunade and Orochimaru traded their respective resting spots for a better view of the oncoming battle.

Naruto punched him in the face.


Sakumo entered Jiraiya's room with silent, padded footsteps. He slowly opened the painted door, making a mental note to oil the hinges so that they wouldn't creak in the future, and gave a half-sigh of fond exasperation at the sight of his younger brother.

"Jiraiya," Sakumo exhaled, unimpressed. He reached into the little pouch at his waist, fished around for a second, and brought out a thick gauze of white bandages. "Why do you have a broken nose on the first day of school?"

"It ain't my fault!" his younger brothered protested weakly from his perch on his futon. "I was just asking about something!"

"Sure you were." Sakumo cradled his head in his hands, wondering why children had the unnecessary habit of getting themselves into unlikely and equally dangerous situations. As long as Jiraiya didn't go into the red-light districts, Kami knows how many criminals were in that place... or outside of Konoha... or near the some of Konoha's larger clans. Suddenly, the illustration of a six-year old, slightly older Jiraiya scrambling through the Forest of Death appeared in his mind. Repress. Sakumo prayed. It will never happen.

"Just where were you anyways?" the older Hatake rolled a swathe of bandages onto his fingers, and fished out a small red jar from his back pocket. Sakumo dropped onto one knee, popped the lid of the jar, and rubbed some ointment onto Jiraiya's bruises.

Jiraiya perked at the change in topic. "My friend took me somewhere near the northern wall." Sakumo slowly wrapped the white strips of cloth along Jiraiya's calf, making sure to layer it. "It smelt kinda funny though. And the buildings looked like they were gonna topple. He said somethin' 'bout the red-li—"

"You know what?" Sakumo said, knotting the bandages a little too tight for comfort. "I don't want to know."


Mito elegantly settled her teacup onto the oak desk, smiling slightly as Tsunade bounced around on the bed. The little girl hopped into Mito's lap, curling into a ball.

"Granny Mito!" Tsunade chirped. "Guess what?"

"I do not know, tell me little one." Mito replied, ruffling Tsunade's fluffy golden hair affectionately.

"I made a new friend Granny! Three of them! There's Oro-chan and Jiraiya-kun and Naruto-chan!" she giggled. "Well, I met Naruto and Jiraiya at a tea party, and Oro-chan's really pale and he's quiet all the time and he reads a lot. Like you granny. Jiraiya's kinda silly, he has pretty white hair and red line-thingys under his eyes. Naruto-chan's kinda cool and he has the most gorgeous blue eyes ever. But Jiraiya and Naruto fight all the time and Orochimaru-chan tries to stop them and I like watching them 'cause they're really, really funny together." she babbled, smoothing her hands over the folds of Mito's kimono. "Granny, you smell nice. Like flowers. And the soap papa never lets me use."

Mito threw back her head and laughed indulgently. "Go on," she pressed.

"Naruto likes ramen. Like really, really likes ramen. And pranks. He has whisker marks and hair like mine, but not yours. Which is weird 'cause he's a Uzumaki, but some Uzumakis have blond hair instead of red. I have blond hair too! And so did papa. And-and-Granny? Don't tug my hair." Tsunade complained.

Mito's hands froze, her mind backtracked.

"Uzumaki?" Mito quirked an eyebrow.

"Yeah! And he likes pranking and orange and he's loud and bounces around a lot." Tsunade replied enthusiastically. She wriggled furiously out of Mito's steeled grip.

Perhaps, this has something to do… with the fox. Or maybe it is just a simple coincidence. The academy was starting, and there was bound to be an oddball or two running around. To befriend her granddaughter on the very first day though, and didn't Tsunade say something about a tea party?

It was so very interesting.

Exhaling quietly, the red-haired woman closed her eyes.

"Come, let's go for dinner." Mito rose from the bed. Tsunade scrambled gleefully to her side. They walked across the polished wooden flooring, hand in hand, and out the door of the bedroom, closing it behind them with a hollow clack.


.

Experience can be measured in time. Time brings life, it brings death, love, calamity and change. It is something that never had a beginning and never has an end. You cannot stop time, stall it, perhaps twist it to your liking, but never stop it. Time is not a power meant to fall into mortal hands, or even that of God's.

Once upon a time, shall we. There was old lady Tsunade, a broken, washed out shell of her former self. Her hopes and dreams settling ambiguously at the bottom of a sake cup. With time and change, she came across a hot-headed boy in orange and he transfigured her life. In a nothing stretch of time and another stretch of reality, could that have still happened?

Beware when you waltz with time, because as exhilarating as the prospect of change is, with it comes tragedies just lurking behind the corner.

In the end, Time is but a painter with a keen eye and a flair for the impossible. Creating a masterpiece, stroke by stroke, colour by colour, on the canvas known as the world.

.


I've got a beta in the form of the wonderful Duesal10, and I'll repost the past three chapters, including this one, as soon as he's done editing them.

Thank you to: AmandaSingh0, Erydanes, ImaginationJunkie1412, Roy23, Radiant Celestial Aura and Duesal10 for reviewing.

Expect the next chapter to be in around three weeks my darling readers.

Criticize, comment, leave a review on your way out please!