Notes1: Some context: This chapter was meant to be much larger. The previous three chapters had left me burned out, and for a time I let it be to work on other stories and focused on my job (I won't include college here because as of this semester it's only just one class and I'm still on the fence as to what to major in for an associate's). Then, after a while and some ruminating, I came back to it. However, in the past few weeks I floundered, and wondered if I could still be able to keep up with the massive 20k+ chapters I was espousing in the previous notes with the current rate I'm going. Also, funnily enough, I've been rereading The Lord of the Rings again for...I honestly don't know (I've had my copy for going on seventeen years now), and while I can't say the chapters are over 20k words I don't think, unless a specific chapter itself requires it to be so, the ones I write will be exactly of that length or longer (which I can do, and I've seen other authors do, but I'm still not too sure if my case is that of preference or a matter of 'okay, I'm reading this chapter and I think it should've ended here and continue on there, et cetera, et cetera, this is good but it's dragging on too much). So I decided, why not, this seems like a good place to split it in half where the transition period isn't bad or too sudden. At least 6k words from the second half were cut and placed in a separate document that will be continued there.

Notes2: The way forward (although if you are reading this, I would skip it if you want to avoid some very minor spoilers): The next couple chapters after Chapter 5 will be cementing team placements (and the formation of Team Seven as Naruto, Ino, and Sasuke), the bell test, and the uneasy allegiance Sarutobi enforces upon them in regards to having Velvet around. I'm not sure if I'll want to spend too much time on the D-rank missions for character building/fleshing out the other teams prior to setting up the Wave arc or jump right into it (which I'm currently deciding whether it should stick close to canon or deviate in how it should be approached; not to mention if Zabuza and Haku should die or live and what will become of Kubikiribouchou afterwards), although the secret of Velvet's survival post-Spring is not entirely lost upon the shinobi armed forces, which will be expounded upon in Chapters 5 and 6.

Notes3: On the topic of OCs (and I know I said a couple chapters ago it'd be the one and only time, but I thought I'd get this out of the way): For those readers who are wary of them, you're right. You've every right to be nervous about them. However, given some of the response I got from Chapter 2, I was thinking over just how I can make them work in this story, and...I still don't think they're going to be as prevalent as some of you fear them to be, but I do want them to present in a way that will support the Rookie Nine. I mean, with Naruto learning kenjutsu (for example) that niche COULD be filled by a canon character like, say, Gekkou Hayate or maybe get pointers from Tenten who's a year above him; while Sasuke and Ino could learn jutsu from their clans and specialize in other jutsu arts from either a canon character or OC, etc. However, I think the best way to balance their presence and utilize them would be either in the interim period before the Wave arc or during the Chunin Exams before the Konoha Crush. It's tough to say who's going to get killed off in this story - Velvet is 100% untouchable and Team Seven is pretty much guaranteed plot armor post-Fourth War, and I'm toying with the idea of what to do with possibly deviating from canon deaths like Jiraiya, Asuma, Neji (this will never stop feeling like a cop out to me) in a malevolence-infected world, but for the time being, despite what limited presence they may have, don't expect any mentioned OCs from the Rebirth of Calamity chapters to bite the bullet for now.

After all, most people are okay with having OC!Uzumaki and OC!Namikaze badasses (the latter of which are somehow just as politically influential and powerful as the former despite only Minato having that kind of pull...?) running around an incompetent, bigoted Konoha that purposely fails Naruto academically (not to mention having anyone between a random, drunken civilian to Kakashi himself trying to assassinate not just an important political asset but their one and only trump card every step of the way) and trains him to be stupidly OP, so I think it's fair game if we have minor OCs offering at least some assistance regardless of reception.


3.
A Light To Be Found in the Dark

Naruto could not go back to sleep that night, not fully. He had been discharged from the hospital with a clean bill of health and some choice words from the ANBU medic overseeing him to not perform any strenuous activity that may drain his chakra—and the Fox's—any more than they were earlier in the day when they were out, but not before he finished speaking to Master Inoichi.

It had lasted no more than an hour at best, but the conversation seemed as if it had dragged, slowly, excruciatingly, not out of a sense of boredom and an urge to be away from the man. No, he would later think that night, as he tossed and turned in bed at home. It had felt like it had gone on longer because of what Master Inoichi told him. His words lingered in the back of his mind as much as the images, the fantasies, dazzled and played in outrageous, out-of-sequence turn like a film roll shoddily put together, in his mind and behind his eyelids as he tried unsuccessfully to rest.

He pictured Master Inoichi in Point Zero standing behind the gate separating him from Lord Velvet and the Maw of the Beast that contained her therein as ANBU (hellion ANBU, he recalled with a shudder) applied the purification seals to his body with their claw-tipped fingers. He pictured him being allowed entry inside and approaching her, secreted away in some niche she might have carved for herself in moons past (or perhaps Lord First and Lady Mito made them, for the walls were still very strong and solid to this day). He thought she spent her days brooding her situation, perhaps lamenting she had not caused enough damage and shed not enough bloodshed before Lord Hashirama bested her in combat. Maybe she did nothing at all, and that was what Naruto figured she did the most: sit there, waking from a light doze, arms wrapped about her in a facsimile of comfort, the bandages hiding her claw yellowed with age, with old blood, and sparking malevolent embers. The air around her must have been terrible, stifling, like heat on blacktop pavement that would appear as a hazy mirage on the horizon, but otherwise bearable and posing no immediate danger in turning Master Inoichi and those non-hellion ANBU into mindless, slavering beasts. He would come to a stop before her, not too close to the claw should her temper flare but not too far that she could not hear him and he could apply his jutsu to her when the need arose; and then they would…would….

Talk, Seres told Naruto, as though she caught onto his thoughts (and he wondered if she could see them, how connected she was to him as much as he was to Lord Velvet). Just talk. She was willing…for the most part.

But that didn't stop the images from assailing him: images of her aura spewing forth like a geyser and filling his pores and orifices until he choked on his tongue and dropped dead on the spot; of her claw snapping the chains and devouring him whole because of one misconstrued word; of her conjuring the trio of dragonhide wolves ("One of which you saw the other night," Inoichi said) and commanding them to tear him apart; of her overpowering the seals and getting her hands on him, claw or no, moving so quickly he would not be able to react; and when she was done with him, she would direct her wrath, her hunger, on the Guard, the shinobi of the Leaf, and—

He awoke with a gasp, eyes snapping open. He was on his back, staring up at the ceiling, and for a split second he did not know where he was. Then he did, turning his head aside toward the alarm clock. It was four o'clock, more or less on the button, no more than three hours since he had come home. Sunrise was still a ways off.

Naruto groaned and sat up, throwing the sheets off him that somehow managed to stay on him and not on the floor as he anticipated. "Can't sleep anymore," he grumbled, shivering as he planted his bare feet on the floor. I'm surprised I even slept at all, he thought, and he still found it hard to believe he had been out the whole day. One day! He could've used that time to go shopping for tools and supplies on the field and out, could have gone to one of the training fields and experimented the informational processing method the Shadow Clone Jutsu was famous for until he had it down to a T and walked away satisfied.

He touched the spot where the wound used to be, brows knitting uneasily. No, not again, and not so quickly. As chaotic and harrowing his brush with death had been this was for the best. He would wait—impatiently, swearing his misfortune, but he would wait nonetheless.

He sighed and padded to the refrigerator. He opened the door and grunted, squinting as the light bulb sketched scarlet afterimages behind his eyes. When his sight adjusted, he took stock of the contents and frowned. There was barely anything in there: a carton of milk, some wheat bread, three slices of processed ham, a plastic bin of fried rice he had made for himself about—he did the math in his head—a week ago. His stomach dropped; he had been so busy preparing for the graduation exam he had neglected to replenish it, and it plummeted even more when he recalled the cupboards and pantry next to him.

That's what you get for having your head go from being up in the clouds to being rammed down your ass in one night, Kurama said, unkindly. Now you pay the price.

"Oh, shove it," Naruto countered with little muster. As if in response, his belly rumbled. A small whine escaped him as he beheld his empty fridge. He pulled out the transparent shelf where the meat resided, took the box it was in, and pried off the lid. He fingered the first slice, lips pulling down at the corners; it looked old, dried, with the first splotches of discolorations decorating the frayed edges. Naruto replaced it back in the box, set it back inside, and turned the packaged bread over. It felt hard, cold, and was starting to mold. Sinking further into dismay, he pulled out the carton of milk and fumbled with unfolding and prying up the top and gable.

He sniffed it—and only once. "Oh my god!" he choked, holding it away from him. The stench was powerful, heady, like sewage. His stomach flopped.

Kurama laughed uproariously. Rise and shine, pup! Nothing better to start your day than a cold glass of spoiled milk!

"Sh-Shut up!" He held his breath, pushed the gable closed, and shut the fridge. Naruto got up and walked away, trying to dispose of the stench from his face with a wave of his hand. "Ugh! Holy shit!"

You'll get no sympathy from me, kid. You shoulda known better—

"I know, I know! Ya think I don't know that?" He stopped in front of the cupboards to catch his breath. "I'll put it in the trash and take it out in the morning; people are still sleeping."

Big deal. You're a ninja now. Just have a clone do it for you.

"'m not gonna waste chakra on taking out garbage when I can just do that on my own. Gotta conserve it." He frowned severely at the wooden doors and shelves. "Gotta do a lot more now." He opened one door, peered inside and, sighing, procured a cup of instant ramen. After a bit of finagling with the faucet and the microwave, he had it in and stood around waiting while it brought the cup to a boil. A couple more minutes, and when it was done he retrieved a plastic spork from the drawer and grabbed the cup as easily as he would any other item. With care, but one positive aspect to being a jinchuuriki was having a higher tolerance to pain than one who was not. It stung, slightly, but it was warm, comforting, and then settled.

Naruto went past the bed, unlocked the window and slid it open all the way. He hopped up, draped one leg over the sill, and relaxed, digging in at a slow, leisurely pace.

The night waned. The stars turned. The weather was warm and always had been since the emergence of malevolence and the rise of the Lords Greater and Lesser, but even before then the Land of Fire did not experience more than freezing temperatures and some inches of snow, never a blizzard. People hated working in the snow even if they admired it for its beauty and the joy it brought their children, so perhaps, in some twisted, darkly amusing irony it gave them the respite they yearned for, spoken or unspoken. It also made winter missions much more dangerous, Master Iruka had said once, because that meant an uptick in hellion activity, and when it did snow it would be the perfect environment to perform their duties with little to no hindrance. In those days, Naruto would think how to counter those weaknesses, not only for himself but for his teammates, but here it was a passing thought—something to ruminate on in the days to come should the winter provide a storm or two.

There's only so much you can do in one sitting, Lady Seres said.

Naruto jumped, but only slightly. It was going to take some getting used to having another person that wasn't Kurama speaking to him from within. "I know," he said, spooning some noodles into his mouth. "I don't wanna rush, but…you never know."

Having your plans written down on paper or spoken out loud doesn't mean you'll actually enact them when the times come. You have to remember the unexpected variables that may occur, one of them being how you yourself may react when confronted by failure and expectation. Even then, how you want to act may not be how you expect to.

He paused, staring at the broth pooling in his utensil. "…Yeah," he mumbled. "I just…wanna be prepared, 's all."

I'm glad you are taking precautions, but take care not to be too hopeful. Behind his eyelids, between the dark of the night and the light coming in from the window, he could see the malak standing before the hearth of the House In-Between, her shadow stretched long against the floor and crawling up the wall behind her. The logs tending to the fire cracked and spat; there were white patches on the wood closest to the flame, crumbling in a fine dusty shower. She was there, but his mind wandered and did not focus on her or Kurama entirely. Was he imagining it, or did the bloodbinding simply attune him to the machinations of the seal more thoroughly than what his father had done on the night of his birth?

I've seen too many good people die because they were hopeful, Seres continued, and Naruto stiffened. If she made any indication she could hear his thoughts (could she?) she chose not to give voice to them. Her back was to him, but her tone was far away, subdued, lost in time. I watched the joy light upon their faces when they had done good, or thought to have done good. I watched them praise their comrades, how they boasted and gave cheer and walked away. A beat. I watched them fall. I watched the light fade from their eyes. Sometimes the fire devoured it. Another. Velvet was very thorough.

Could have fooled me, Kurama grumbled. By the time I got involved, she was doing whatever it took to gain the advantage.

Ascendancy to lordship of her caliber brings out the very best—and the very worst—in a person. Even before she amassed the Dread March, she was plotting. Thinking. It was only after she relented and allowed her lieutenants to speak their piece did her Word become manifest, and she accomplished much more than she would have done alone.

And when those same hellions were whittled to her second and everything came to a head, she forsook all caution and gunned straight for Fire Country. She was fucked from the start. The Fox bared his teeth in a cruel, humorless smile. You should know, woman. You were there. You felt everything she felt, saw everything she saw, in and out of the Spaces.

And still I watched, said Seres, and Naruto saw her turn to face Kurama. From what little he could see, her expression was somber, pinched. Up until the very end.

Naruto set the cup aside, his appetite vanquished. He regarded Konoha, the night sky, the moon, the forests lying unseen over the horizon. All that particular stretch of land where he, Mizuki, and the ninja he had turned had been cordoned off by the Military Police and under ANBU supervision ("The cops don't know," Inoichi had emphasized, "that the blight can mask their true forms; they will only see what the people want to see") while healers from the Unforgotten—thaumaturges—set about cleansing the taint and restoring the area as close to what it once was before. Those who had turned were feral, hungry, and when the Guard was given the order they descended upon them as hawks with talons splayed.

They fed well that night, by tooth and by blade.

His mind reached further. He wondered where Lord Velvet was right now, if she was even still in Konohagakure like she said she would be. Was she even hunting right now? Even though Master Inoichi insisted she would feast only on the beasts and the wild, who was to say she was hunkering somewhere in the shadows of some dark niche, scheming her vengeance on the people that had defeated her and spared her the respite of death? Who was to say she lied and was going on a killing spree right now? What if she was waiting for that perfect moment, that instance where time does not exist and the clarity of thought is all but crystalline, for the Hokage and his own Guard to be alone, away from the public, and do away with them then and there? If she was denied her conquest through Lord Hashirama, then it would be upon Lord Third's head she would separate from his shoulders; for it was Lord Tobirama who made him the eternal fire which casts the longest shadow and dwarfs over all, he who carried on the eternal task of preserving the integrity of the Village and ensuring their greatest enemy, their Adversary, never saw the light of the world ever again.

And it's all my fault she's up, Naruto thought with a bitter twist of his lips. All mine, even if no one else but the old man and the others do. Everything she'll do will be all on me.

Thinking is not the same as doing, boy, Kurama began, but I must admit: it's nice to see you got your head on straight for once. Congratulations. You're going to need it. He ended it off with a snarling chuckle.

I see you're still as antagonistic as ever, Seres said, sighing wearily. Would it trouble you not to be so blunt?

The blunter the better, I say! You of all people should know he's going to need all the help he can get. You have all the knowledge at your disposal—everything that you have seen through the Lord's eyes and everything she has consumed for you to mantle before Senju forced her to release them. Why deny him that by sugarcoating it?

The malak said nothing, but she made an uncomfortable sound and turned back to the fire, grasping her arm with the other.

From his place in the cage, Kuramar flared his nostrils and licked his lips. Look at this, boy, he growled to Naruto. Can you believe it? This woman, of all people, is afraid you're going to die.

"Can you blame her? Being a ninja is the hardest job in the world. And I'm tied to Lord Velvet." He couldn't quite stamp out the slight tremor precluding his words. Of all the things he could accept, beyond being the son of the Fourth Hokage, having a tailed beast in his stomach, and understanding the fear and resentment people held toward him for being their sacrifice, being the stopgap between Konoha's survival—perhaps even the whole world—and a mutually assured apocalypse was one he didn't think he could come to terms with even if he lived to the fabled elderly age the Uzumaki were renown for and was upon his deathbed.

And she's been here for nigh sixty years, watching children come and go, dying by the droves and wading through the bodies for one more minute, and still can't wrap her head around it. Kurama peered down at the malak between the bars. This is not Wasteland. People have been fucking and sending their spawn for millennia onto the frontlines and will continue to do so for as long as there is lust and greed in the hearts of men. Those same spawn even join the military willingly, yearning for honor and glory and recognition; and more often not, they are going to achieve that in death. It doesn't matter if they're ninja or knights. If it means conscripting their scions and maidens to earn a bit of ryo and gold to fill their coffers or bring prestige to their dusty surnames, then they are going to do so. No amount of pouting and crying and raging at the heavens is going to stop that. If you haven't gotten used to it by now, then maybe you should have done right for the world and died with the Lord so someone else with bigger balls than you can step up and do their damn job, because for what little good they have shown him barely anyone in this Village has bothered to.

"Hey, Kurama—" Naruto began to protest.

I've told her time and again when Kushina was Keeper. I even told her when Mito was alive and kept taking the Lord out of her cage for her field tests. She says she listens, but she doesn't. Maybe she'll start paying attention when you have your neck in some hellion's jaws or get run through with someone's blade. How does that one sound, Lady Seres? His words tapered off in a cavernous, canine rumble.

There was a hard set to her jaw, her lips pressed into a thin line dimpling at the corners, her hands wrapped around herself tight and taut. Still, she stared into the fire, and her eyes shined as though the light from the hearth brought forth the light within her.

She said nothing.

Kurama scoffed and leaned back on his haunches, seemingly satisfied. You should make yourself useful, he told Naruto. Get your information together for when you go to the office later. That way you'll have the rest of the day to do whatever you please before tomorrow. You will have had caught up on your rest by then.

"Y-Yeah," said Naruto. He glanced down at the hands tapping idly against his lap, and then looked up at nowhere in particular. Looked beyond it, into the House In-Between where Lady Seres brooded silently. He fidgeted. "Um…Lady Seres? Are you—?"

"I'm fine," she said—no, grated, though her tone was calm and steady. She turned away from the hearth, from Kurama, toward the fixed bed. She took a deep breath, held it, released it. "I'm fine," she said again. Then, before he could get another word in, Seres burst into white-blue flame.

Naruto jumped. "What the—?!"

She went back to Lord Velvet, said Kurama. Probably going to whine and moan about her insignificance.

"You didn't have to be rude to her, ya know! She's lost two Keepers already. You shouldn't criticize her for being worried about me!"

The Fox stared at him. Naruto, if someone doesn't tell her how it is…who's going to? Your old man Hokage? The Yamanaka Minder? The Lord Herself? I'll say it again: this is not her world. She's had decades to come to terms with this, even though she has accepted the fact her and the Lord will be stuck here until the end of time. She knows this, but she doesn't want to see it. She refuses to. They damned nature and humanity by bringing the blight; the least she can do is leave her morals at the door and do you right by some small measure.

"Maybe her morals aren't wrong," said Naruto. "Maybe it's those same morals that got my mom and Lady Mito this far. Maybe they'll be what save me from going to an early grave."

By mollycoddling you? Kurama sniffed contemptuously. She may be kind, but she's not someone I'd consider an upstanding role model. But by all means, do what you think is best. I'd like to see how far you'll go with her mindset.

"You make it sound like she only helped out because she didn't have a choice. This is her atonement, isn't it? You heard her; she said so herself this is what she wants. What's so wrong with being concerned for someone's well-being?"

Being on the path of absolution isn't guaranteed to change someone overnight. Some things are hard to let go. People are stubborn…selfish, if you will. Kurama grinned and licked his tongue from one corner of his lips to the other. They think their way is the right way. The only way.

"You still shouldn't condemn her for how she feels!"

I can say whatever I please, boy, and I say the Lady Seres is a chickenshit pussy. She wishes for an ideal that can't be achieved…not as long as humans and beasts stay the way they are…and not as long as they are determined. Kurama folded one paw on top of the other. Remember this, Naruto: people can fight the pain, but they cannot deny happiness. People cannot deny happiness, but they can also not deny the reality that stands in their way. If you wish to find happiness, then you must fight reality by any means necessary, even if that means you must become an enemy of the world and throw it into chaos…or crush it into subservience. You cannot please everyone. You may not even please yourself. But how much is your happiness worth? How much does it matter compared to someone else's? To your Village's? To your country's?

Naruto blinked owlishly. "How much?" He looked out at the Village, the place he called home, its stucco buildings and flat, double-decked rooftops. He looked upon the faces of the Hokage carved in the stone shielding the forests grown from Lord First's miracle bloodline. He looked past it: to the north, the south, the east, and what hid at his back from the west and Beyond. It was though he was seeing it for the very first time.

"My happiness," he began, tentatively, the words lingering. Then, with a small measure of resolve: "My happiness is to be Hokage."

And…?

"And…." He paused. When he was younger, causing trouble and leading ninja on wild goose chases across the Village after pulling off one of his pranks, he would always say he wanted to be Hokage, for they were the strongest shinobi that ever lived. They were the men who were widely recognized and lauded as heroes for their efforts in contributing to ending the Three World Wars and preserving the future of Leaf and Fire in the War Against Malevolence. He had wanted that attention, as well, yearning to aspire to heights higher and greater than even what Lord Hashirama reached in the Spring of Devastation, yearned for the same respect his father had in his waking life. The uncertainty of the future posed by the threat of hellionization and corruption of the land, along with the potential for conflict that came with politics, was not on his mind then. Even when he first heard the tale of Lord Velvet Crowe, the Enemy of Mankind, and was fascinated by the campaigns the Hidden East pushed against her to stem the flow of the Dread March, he had not considered them, though they came and went with the passing of boyish whimsy.

But what now? He wanted to be Hokage for the respect he felt he deserved because…what, because people ignored him and whispered behind his back when they thought he wasn't looking or couldn't hear them? No, he had decided back then, when he had first made his trip into that boundary between realities he had come to call the In-Between, not just that. He wanted respect and recognition because he was the only one his father entrusted, could rely on, to stop Kurama from his crazed rampage. He wanted it even after the beast awoke from his stupor and, years later, explained to his Guardian the best he could what he remembered, for if the world was not a kind place for those hellions who tried to eke an existence in the quiet, lonely shadows then it would not be kind to those other eight jinchuuriki like him that housed their tenants from malevolence and society's hatred. He wanted to be Hokage to surpass the legends of old and the legends of the present, and once he did that he'd…

He'd what? What would he do? He'd seen the way the old man held himself when he navigated Konoha's streets: tall, regal, with a quiet air, but walking as a man who is relaxed, straight-backed, and at one with his surroundings, and the Village reciprocated. He did not wave his hat around nor throw his status in people's faces as Naruto always wanted to do; just as it hanged loosely on his neck did it hang heavy on his head, and his face, for the most part, never betrayed what troubles lurked in the back of his mind. That was a secret only the shadows in his halls and by his side knew.

Was that happiness? Being Hokage to protect the Village but enduring the hardships of clan politics, hellions, and age-old feuds from beyond the border?

What was happiness, if not to simply see the dream come to fruition?

What is my happiness? Naruto asked himself, and he looked within the In-Between for Minato and Kushina. Neither was present at the table.

You can ask, but their answers are their own. Do not be influenced by them simply out of heritage, nor should you allow the malak and the Lord to sway you out of personal desire. Kurama snorted and lay his head down between his paws. Think about it: What is your happiness? How far are you willing to go to see it through? He closed his eyes, wrapped his tails around him, and breathed deeply until he fell into a light slumber.

Naruto receded from the House and returned to his own, gazing upon the sleeping Village. "My happiness," he said again, tapping his fingers against the windowsill. He did want recognition and respect, that much was true, not as an aspirant Hokage but as a person. Not from his classmates, which had taken some time for them to grow accustomed to taking his education more seriously and dropping his lifestyle as a dead-last troublemaker, but from the Village as a whole. That was not so wrong, was it? Wasn't that a good thing to desire?

After a while, he decided that no, it wasn't a bad thing to want respect and that it was a good thing to strive for. The only thing that stood between him and that…was time; and some people, no matter how hard he tried or how selflessly he committed himself to it, would not change. Perhaps they never will. The thought pained him.

People are stubborn…selfish.

He didn't think the Lady Seres was being stubborn or selfish, nor did he think she was in the wrong. Perhaps in her world, this Wasteland, children his age were not legal adults and were not allowed to fight until they were well into adulthood. Perhaps, if her world was as terrible as its name described (and what could have happened in its lifetime to be called that?), children had to be forced to fight, either because their families struggled and had to make ends meet or they had no choice but to be conscripted, enslaved to they who held the economic leash as short as possible. Your bloodline did not matter, only that which you stood with government, church, and the master you were bound to.

But where do the malaks fit in all that? Naruto couldn't fathom to guess. Were there malaks other than Lady Seres? There had to be, because Master Inoichi insinuated the spirits of her world were no different than the beasts from all over Kuniumi, even those who hailed and pledged allegiance to sacred sage territories such as Mount Myoboku the Land of Toads, Ryuichi Cave the Den of Snakes, and Shikkotsu Forest the Haven of Slugs. But if there were, hypothetically speaking, what was their lot in life in Wasteland? If children were endangered, then could it be there were malaks (No, Naruto corrected, malakhim) that shared the same sentiment as her and tried to change that? Did her quest have something to do with it and that was why she was against his becoming a soldier—a blade—for Hokage and Village?

How did Lord Velvet figure into this? If Seres' desire was to see him not be involved in the warring and politicking of the Orient, then what was Lord Velvet's?

Did he even want to know?

He grimaced. I said we'd have to work it out like adults, but who am I kidding? I'm just a gnat compared to her. Who is going to want to listen to me, some no-name ninja, and take me seriously?

Naruto snagged the cup ramen and stirred the noodles with little fanfare, all the broth having been absorbed. This is crazy. I'm crazy. But the craziest of all would have to be his parent-imprints. Him, getting along with the Lord of Calamity and working together? He was certain that as soon as everyone learned Lord Velvet was not dead and walking the earth, for good this time, then he was as good as dead.

I can't believe you guys think this is a good idea, he thought sullenly. He didn't know which was worse: him being so stupid as to steal the Scroll of Seals and waking up Velvet Crowe or be forced to collaborate with her and his parents dumping all this on him and having the audacity to place their faith in him.

This is bullshit.


Seres didn't come back for the rest of that night and Naruto couldn't quite bring himself to relax and get some sleep, so to occupy himself, even if he had to drag out time itself, he went downstairs to the ground level. The apartment was more or less his by right, given to him by the Hokage when he was old enough to leave the orphanage and lived off the savings Minato and Kushina had stashed away during the former's brief tenure. It was an old place dating back to the time of Lord Senju Tobirama and, once upon a time, people had lived in there, but the vagaries of the Wars had driven them elsewhere and no one seemed to want or expressed interest in purchasing it. By the time Naruto had been relocated here, the place was sparsely furnished and purged of its previous occupants. It was like stepping into a moment frozen in time…but it was his now, had been for nearly six years, and he had made the best of it as much as he could spend.

There was a kitchenette and a sitting area, but no walls to separate one from the other. That was fine by him. He ignored the tables and the counters with their cupboards—he knew they'd be just as barren as their upstairs counterparts if not outright dusty—and went for the corner furthest from the window. Here was a bookcase and a writing desk with compartment drawers to put mundane utilities like post-it notes and lined stationary paper in there. The more important stuff—such as his schoolwork, grocery lists, philosophical quotes he copied from library books, and notes that ranged between ninjutsu and genjutsu theory to budget planning full of scratched writing and ink blots—were stacked and placed side by side in the drawers underneath the table. The bookcase had a niche containing basic training scrolls in pigeonholes whereas the rest of the space was divided by two shelves stuffed with tomes and books. These had either been recovered from neglected, overflowing trash bins from his forays in his youth or bought at rummage book sales when traveling merchants and Westernborn peddlers (chapmen and costermongers and cheapjacks were some of the odd titles he heard described them) rode upon the crossroads and hawked their wares.

He recalled with some nostalgia and a twang of guilt of one instance where he had gone to the library and tried to steal a couple old volumes dedicated to the military operations Kuniumi conducted across the continent in hopes to stem the tide of infected hellions and swathes of destruction Velvet and her March left in their wake in increasingly desperate efforts. It was public knowledge by now that Lord First and his closest advisers were nearly pushed to breaking under the strain (and it was no surprise, his classmates would whisper, that Madara and Izuna were the first to cave in), but Naruto wanted to know more. Wanted to know how they managed to pick themselves up against the odds and, by sheer luck (By providence! the Unforgotten adherents would exclaim), diverted the March north away from the western border to buy time to muster their forces and shore up defenses along the land between northern Fire and southern Rice Paddy before they caught onto their ploy. Wanted to know just how in the hell Lord Hashirama beat the ever loving shit out of the Lord of Calamity—a real demon!—on his own. But Master Iruka and Mizuki were never going to get to those parts right away. They were so slow, they wanted their students to digest this information over time, to reflect on the First's perseverance and the arrogance that had been the Lord's undoing so they could apply those lessons to their lives, and Naruto did not have time for that. So when class had finished and he snapped out of the trance he had been in for who knew how long, staring at the artist's interpretation of the two-legged she-wolf commanding her army of demons, smoke-haints, and dragons at the Kage and their ninja, he bolted out of his seat and gunned straight for the library.

He was stupid to think he had pulled a fast one on them by applying a henge and stuffing them in his backpack, thinking how much of a hot shit he was for outsmarting the grown-ups. Oh, was he wrong, because he had just so happened to have forgotten the ANBU following him every step of the way—ANBU that, he would learn some time later, were assigned by the Hokage to keep an eye on him and step in should the need arise. At first they were surprised; some had even laughed and seemed to be amused. Then they were stern, and before Naruto could get a bead out of what was going through their minds (—Uzumaki Naruto is reading? Did hell freeze over? —) they delivered him to the old man himself.

He had expected to be reamed for his insolence. Instead, and it came to him with a sudden clarity, the Hokage had fiddled with one of the books, the pages flying from his fingers as he riffled through them. He had a look on his face that seemed so out of place at the time. It was a look not of the aggrieved annoyance that usually came with putting up his shenanigans on a daily basis.

No, it was one of profound disappointment and…was it sadness? Yes, yes that was sadness directed at him, and Naruto had never felt more confused and ashamed than he did in that moment.

The Hokage did not punish him that day; instead he asked him to come with him for a walk around the Village, and Naruto, not wanting to cause any more trouble, simply followed. They had gone everywhere: the Konoha Archive Library, the General Hospital, the cemetery, the memorial stones where the names of all ninja killed in the line of duty were inscribed (where he had said, just prior to the Hokage telling him what they really were and the horror set in, he wanted his name to be on). For each place they had gone to, the old man posed this question: What could you do for your Village if you did not have the means to provide for them? How could he, if he was denied the opportunity from everyone he scorned?

He asked that only Naruto dwell on it, and for the rest of the walk Naruto did. They had ended their journey at Ichiraku's, and it was there the old man inquired him of his thoughts.

After that, things changed. Better grades, somewhat improved relations with his classmates and the Village (though they still turned their noses up at him), a different outlook on life that he hoped was for the best and mattered in the end….

How much of that would change when he became a ninja? How much of it would remain the same? Would he?

How long would he last?

Naruto sighed, went over to the desk, and started rooting around for his identification papers. Once those were gathered and clipped, he snagged his writing utensils and a half-used memo pad. He would take these upstairs and put them in the rucksack, the one he used for the Academy and when he went to the training grounds, by his bedside, along with the overstuffed frog wallet affectionately nicknamed Froggy for when he had finished his business and hit the market district.

With that settled he made to take them only to pause and regard the bookcase. There weren't as many as he would have liked: cookbooks from far-away Earth and Mist and Lightning (as well as allegedly "authentic" Uzushio cuisine); chapbooks of the effect malevolence had on the ecology in Wind Country and the ruins along the Boiling Shore that had once been called the Manannan Isthmus, yellowed history textbooks focused on the World Wars, invasions, and sieges; opinion pieces of the Spring of Devastation and how it changed society forever; essays concerned with demonology, the study of hellions and dragons, and, quite absurdly, how it might give rise to a resurgence in true youkai and not those mutated from blight and infection; pamphlets from the Unforgotten imploring him to attain kensho and apply it to daily life, so that they may earn the favor of their goddess, the Lady-in-Waiting, and be blessed with good fortune and strength in 'these dark times'.

As interesting as they normally were, none seemed to strike his fancy. One, however, did, and he pulled it out. He looked at the title on the cover. The Rousing of the East and the Wrath of the West: An Annotated Account of the Spring of Devastation, by Yamanaka Inomaru. He couldn't help but smile. It was not the exact same copy he tried to nick from the library, but it was bought and given to him from the old man himself as a gift for moving into the house. "I will send you more…that is, if you keep up your studies and stay out of trouble," he had said.

Well, getting his grade point average up and keeping them consistent was a hassle…but the challenge proved to be well worth all the nail-biting and grumbling over trigonometric formulas. Having your test handed back to you with not an A but a B, even a C, felt good.

As for staying out of trouble? Well, he managed as much as he could. It wasn't his fault kids kept accusing him of being Master Iruka's pet or trying to convince the Hokage into coercing his subordinate teachers into changing his grades and tried to put him in his place. People liked others that were nice, even a tricky rogue who didn't mean to cause trouble but had good intentions to make merry and laughter afterwards…but no one liked people that were hen-pecked or complete doormats, and Naruto was anything but a hen-pecked doormat. No one liked tricky rogues who were in it for themselves and gave their elders the run-around, either. He wondered if anyone missed those days.

He stared at the cover. It was an image of the First Kage leading a charge in the jutsu-wrecked land of the Valley of the End with their soldiers rallying behind them, hands formed mid-seal, weapons and flags raised high. On the back was the enemy, of the Lord of Calamity and the Dread March bristling at the rearguard, standing in a fog of muddy blight. She was depicted as a demon that stood taller than the rest, with upswept dragon horns on her head, a long, sinuous tail, and massive, outstretched wings; wolf ears and sleek, black-purple fur flecked with scales. There was an empty hole in her chest, as though a cannonball had shot through her and left the wound behind clean. Her snout was curdled in an angry snarl, showing rows of sharp teeth. The infamous red, black-streaked arm was outstretched as if to reach across the spine to consume human and summon beast.

He turned it to the front again and saw the artist's name: Yasagami Nouma. It sounded familiar, but he couldn't place a face to it. Maybe she partook in the Spring, too. If she did, and was still alive, how would she react if she were to see the real Lord of Calamity—not a dragon-touched demon lord of malevolence, but a young woman, alive and well, who had been sleeping on and off beneath Konoha for nearly sixty years?

He opened the book and flipped through the pages. Here was a picture of a white lily found in the forests bordering the Village with black specks of malevolence hovering in the air, found by the thirteenth Ino-Shika-Cho cell on a scouting expedition. It was the first known case that documented the rapid spread of blight. Here was another of the razing of Roland and Sunagakure, where it is claimed by surviving refugees Lord Velvet displayed her ability to instantly infect and hellionize humans on a mass scale. There were many other illustrations: the sacking of Kazahana Castle in Snow; the death of Kajiro, who had then been General of the Land of Iron's samurai, who fell to the Lord in combat; the Iburi Clan's stand against the Dread March in the lowlands between western River and south Fire as they were picked off one by one; the clash between Lord Velvet and Senju Hashirama in the smoking crater of the Valley of the End.

There was nothing that indicated him sparing her life, not even an illustration. Having reached the end of that particular chapter, Naruto's eyes fell upon the middle of the last paragraph: …and after a long and arduous battle, Hashirama struck down Lord Velvet until she could rise no more. Unable to conjure the blight-cloak that made her nigh impenetrable, having all the strength drained from her, she could not stop Hashirama as he ran her through with his sword. It was here, underneath the stormy sky, that she met her end, and Velvet Crowe was slain forever, never again to terrorize Al-Elffyd and Kuniumi with her endless hatred.

Naruto frowned. He could recall, very vividly, when Master Iruka reached this part of the Spring's history. Ino went on for days about her grandpa taking part in the war, proudly exclaiming that she heard from her dad how Inomaru challenged Lord Velvet to a fight when he saw Lord Hashirama become overpowered during one of the skirmishes in Fire. He had tricked her into thinking she had slain a clone, she said, and when she realized what had happened and how much of a dent their plans had pushed back the March (this was just before the Five Villages decided on the notion to create the Northern Diversion), Velvet flew into a humiliated rage and swore a blood oath to consume Inomaru himself. Everyone thought it was bunk and said to Ino it was such, who would always pout and insisted it was true—her dad would never lie about something like that; he still had the hilt from the sword Inomaru used to fight with locked up in the house, for the blade itself was destroyed. Naruto wasn't so sure if Inomaru did fight Velvet, but the book and the entry he was mentioned in on the Scroll of Seals were proof he had lived to see the end of the Spring and continue the Yamanaka bloodline. If anything, he must've been a very important man to be entrusted by the First Hokage to deal with Velvet Crowe personally and ensure that the public never knew the truth of what became of her.

He sighed and closed the book. He didn't know anything anymore. He just knew he had read this thing so many times that the pages were starting to show the wear (and, thankfully, no tearing yet) of being dog-eared, but it wouldn't hurt to take it with him when he went to the administration office later. He'd have nothing to do in the waiting room other than to kill time; a little more reading, a reminder of what he was dealing with, wouldn't hurt.

"I wonder what everyone'll say when they see me," he said to himself. "They'll probably say I shouldn't be here. Graduates only." It was true; he did not technically graduate. By all rights, he should have been expelled from the Academy and be put under lock and key for stealing the Scroll. It was not so much by the old man's grace but having forced his hand that he was even going to be a ninja.

Right then and there, Naruto realized it for what it was: conscription. His stomach dropped through his feet, through the floor, through the world. His head swam; for a moment, he felt faint and thought he would collapse where he stood. His heart hammered in his ears.

I'm a goner, he thought hopelessly. I'm bound to the most notorious hellion in history and I'm being drafted into service against my will. I am a fucking goner.

Then, with a sudden rush of anger that filled him with energy and banished the nausea and vertigo: No! No, you're not going to die! You're not gonna give up! You're gonna become Hokage. You're gonna win at this and show Velvet who's boss. You got this, Naruto! You can do it!

His lips curled as he recalled the way the Lord looked upon him in the hospital, the smooth, analytical detachment of a predator silently judging its cub. Wondering if one as damned and beast-touched as he would be worth her time. If he could ever hope to fill in the shoes his mother and Lady Mito left behind for him to wear.

I'm not going to wait for the boy to say when it's alright to feed, she had said.

He's not my responsibility. I've already shown him what to do. What happens next is up to him.

He gripped the book hard, his knuckles whitening. You haven't shown me anything! You upped and took off on me! What kind of legal guardian does that to someone who almost got killed?

Then, an image: of her dashing the odd wrist-blade through the air, splashing blood over the ground like spilled paint. The smoke contrail of blight exuding from the demon arm pulsating underneath its wrappings. The fear in Mizuki's eyes as he realized this dark lord, a specter of death mythologized, was true and had come to deliver him to hell.

Watch me, she said. Just once this. I will show you what it means to endure.

He thought, You think I don't know that by now? That I'm gonna have to kill sooner or later? What I'll be enduring will be a helluva lot more than you ever had to put up with in your life! He swallowed thickly. She's right. I'm going to be an adult. I can take care of myself. I already have. I've done it all my life while everyone else either gave me the stink eye, gave me shit, or told me to go rot in hell because I 'killed' their relatives. Why start now? I can make ends meet. I can do this.

Could he? He may not have need of her…but someone had to keep an eye on her. The ANBU can do it! Some of them are hellions! But they were not bloodbound to her the way he was. Perhaps, for all their expertise, their malevolence was dwarfed by hers and therefore could not establish a parasitic connection with her, and, depending on how large their chakra reserves were, their bodies would be unable to filter and recycle her blight. What would happen to them, then, if they couldn't contain it?

What if they couldn't stop her?

One part of him said: I hope they're watching her. I hope they step in if she tries something, because there's no way in hell I'll be able to yet.

Not yet, reminded another, quite firmly, and it made him loosen the death grip he had on the book though all the tension did not melt from him. Remember, Lady Seres said she can't reach her peak anymore so long as you're around to hold her leftover blight. She'd be stupid to try to end the world.

You never know, said the first part. She could still be angry. She's the Lord of Lords; if she really wants vengeance, she'll do it.

She won't kill you, said a third part, faint and ephemeral he could almost believe it was someone whispering it in his ear. It almost sounded like his mother. Not unless she has to.

She knows better, said another, and it almost sounded like his father, too.

"Does she?" he asked aloud, but the voices, his inner thoughts, did not speak back to him. Naruto sighed defeat and clutched the book under his arm. "I need to get stronger," he said, more determined, and clenched his fist. "I have to." If Velvet were ever to step out of line and the ANBU were incapable of putting her back in place, if the Hokage and Master Inoichi and the hellions comprising her Guard could not rein her in, then it would be up to him to do what they could not. Was that not his role as the Lord's Keeper? What was one more beast to safeguard the world from?

He would do what he could. He would be better than what he was now, and then some, as long as he was one step ahead of Lord Velvet Crowe. He would make sure of it.

That was how the first tenant of his ninja creed came to be.

(There would be many, many more to come.)