Second Destiny

A novel by:
A.R. Fredrick

Based on the characters in Naruto,

created by: Masashi Kishimoto

Archive: With Permission Only

Chapter Rating: PG

Disclaimer: "If I owned Naruto, I'd have my own 2009 Saab 9-3 Convertible."

Update Schedule: Next Chapter Due 8/20/09.

Chapter Five: Tension at the Teahouse

Seven Years Before the Kyuubi Attack.

Through an uncanny act of cunning, which was hidden under the guise of innocence, Anko was able to procure a package of water balloons from one of the newer shopkeepers in the marketplace. Though Anko was sure that the elderly retailer was not yet versed with her mischievous exploits, when asked what the balloons would be used for, Anko explained to the woman that they were going to be given at a local birthday celebration, as party favors.

With that excuse, Anko had broken away from the shop as quickly as possible, as somewhat of an experienced prankster for her age, she had learned that the best lies were simple ones and that adults had a keen radar for suspicious activity, some of her plans had been foiled in the past due to her status as an orphan and her lack of parental supervision. She was more prone to being questioned about her purchases, spending habits, and plans for her day, by meddling adults, then children of the family ilk were, and it annoyed her without pause.

But she tried not to dwell too much on the unfortunate truths of her life, as it would not change anything, daylight was waning and she had more important fish to fry. Anko had realized that for her prank to be successful, she would need an accomplice to assist her with the preparation and transportation of the water-laden balloons, and she had just the person in mind.

As the afternoon was waning into the evening hours, the sky was ablaze with fiery light. Sunbeams graced the sky with a myriad of pinks, oranges and reds that coexisted symbiotically with Cirrocumulus clouds that were splattered across the horizon as far as the eye could see. They merged together, and as a result of this blending, the clouds took on the appearance of little wisps of cotton candy. Though Anko enjoyed sweet foods, cotton candy was a little too sugary for her taste, but the beauty of the afternoon was not lost on her, even if it was lost on her compatriot, who glumly trudged behind her, and made a nuisance of himself every few moments with his incessant complaints.

"Hey! Anko-chan, are you sure we should be doing this?" The boy asked her for the umpteenth time, in the same whiny, singsong voice he had used since the onset of their little expedition.

"I'm not twisting your arm Iruka-san, you're the one who shook on our little agreement," Anko reminded him.

They were climbing the seemingly endless series of steps to the Hokage Monument, and though she was several steps ahead of the boy, she was irked when she realized that she could hear him wheezing. She knew from her previous experiences with the pipsqueak that he had a problem with pollen, and plants in general. She wasn't sure if it was asthma, or some sort of allergy, but she had discovered that it was very annoying. There was dense vegetation on both sides of the winding stairway that they were climbing, and though she hadn't paid it much attention previously, she now eyed the trees, ferns, and wildflowers with a contemptuous eye.

Why did Mother Nature have to conspire to ruin her pranking glory as well?

"It's just, ya know, maybe the deal wasn't worth it," Iruka called out from behind here. "I mean, c'mon, do you really plan on giving me a shuriken, or are you just yanking my chain?"

Anko had found the boy wasting away his afternoon with a bunch of local kids. They were engaged in a game of kickball, and while it seemed as if they were having a grand old time together, Anko was able to lure away Umino Iruka with promises of giving him a shuriken, and giving him some pointers on how to throw the bladed weapon.

To Anko, it didn't matter that she didn't really have a shuriken, nor was she versed in the practice of using one. It was more important to her to secure an accomplice for her endeavor, and Iruka had been passionate about becoming a Shinobi since the first day she had met him. Besides, while she had agreed to give him a shuriken, and teach him how to use it, she had never mentioned when she would fulfill her end of the bargain, so in her eyes, she hadn't really lied, she just hadn't told the ENTIRE truth.

Regardless of her inner musings, she was becoming slightly annoyed with the wheezing brat, and spun around to glare at him with her best pissed pose.

"Look, you shook, you made the deal, now hold up your end of the bargain," Anko told him with a sly grin, "and I might hold up mine."

The brown-haired boy studied her intently. She could see a guarded sense of trust in his copper eyes. Though they were around the same age, Anko stood almost a head taller than the boy, this height difference was further accented by the fact that Iruka stood a step lower than her on the stairway. Anko had to admit that the scrawny boy whose hair rested atop his head in a spiky pony-tail. He wore dark brown shorts, a tan teeshirt and a dark green vest that was meant to emulate the style and fashion sense of the modern day Shinobi, even with his so-called happening attire, he was still just an awkward-looking scrawny boy, who was somewhat red in the face due to the load he was carrying.

The backpack the boy carried was stuffed to the gills with rubbery vessels filled with water. The overall weight of the bag was in excess of twenty pounds, and was quite a bit of a load for the young boy.

Anko turned away from the shorter boy, and continued to climb the weather-worn steps to the observation deck on the precipice of the Hokage Monument. Their plan was to wait until after the moon had risen to enact their watery wrath on the citizens of Konohagakure no sato. Anko was looking forward to the escapade with a manic sort of glee, there was rarely anything that excited her more than a good practical joke.

Hatake Sakumo was hesitant, more than that really, he was downright nervous. Most of it stemmed from the fact that he had just recently returned to the village, and was about to leave again. It was a tidbit of information that his wife was sure to be displeased with, as she already complained that he left too frequently due to his chosen line of work. He loved his wife, deeply and truly, but that didn't mean that he wasn't wise enough to be wary of her temper, as the truth was that she could be very harsh when she was upset.

In Sakumo's mind one ideal held true, on the battlefield knowledge equaled power. The more you knew about the opponent you faced, the more likely you were to defeat them, the one drawback of that knowledge was the time and means it took to obtain it.

The last mission that he had embarked on had taken him almost two weeks to accomplish, this was mostly due to the logistical side of the assassination. Though he had been given intel on the whereabouts and habits of his target, he had to become familiar with Suchiru Riddo himself, and to do so he had needed time to study the man, and his mannerisms. Sakumo had to also spend time to grease the proper palms, in order to obtain more obscure information about how he spent his free time, as well as late night surveillance that needed to take place, in order to better familiarize himself with the security the arms dealer had in place.

In the end, he had been successful in neutralizing his target, however his tardiness in returning to the village was something that his wife was going to be quite sore about. Though he had sent the required status reports back to the village, they were not a means for personal communication, and though his wife was able to gauge from his superiors that he was still among the living, she had not a proper conversation with him in quite some time.

"Hell has no fury like a woman scorned..." The silver-haired man muttered to himself as he ambled along the street that would lead him to his final destination.

Around him the afternoon waned, and the sun set heedless of the minds of man. The streets were packed with people. Young and old, big and small, it hardly mattered. They were trying to beat the heat of the day, and though Sakumo watched them with a lazy eye, he was almost envious of their carefree lifestyles. Though he was quite certain each and every one of them had problems of their own to contend with, they surely weren't as immense as his. It wasn't every day that a man was tasked with deterring a coup de tat, as well as making amends with his wife.

He rounded a corner and sighed when the teahouse came into view. It was still quite far off in the distance, but he could already feel a foreboding sense of dread at its mere appearance in his line of sight. The teahouse was owned by a rather wealthy Konoha family, and was completely managed and supervised by his wife. The land that the house sat on was lush, and well-appointed. It was walled off from the rest of the village sprawl, and tried to remain peaceful, and serene, a symbol of simpler times.

Sakumo walked faster, and tried to quell his nerves as he stepped up to the large wrought iron gates and opened them, to allow himself entrance. The grounds of the teahouse were well-manicured and stood as a testament to the landscaping prowess of the gardener who maintained the estate. The house itself was set upon stilts, which allowed for part of its foundation to be built quite near the edge of the small koi pond that dominated the center of the property. On either side of the teahouse visitors could stroll casually along a gravel path that would lead to the house, remove their shoes, and be admitted inside for traditional food and refreshments, either within the confines of the building, or on the deck that overlooked the pond and gardens.

Gravel and loose scree crunched rhythmically with his footsteps as he walked up the fragrant path to the teahouse. Though the day was warm, sakura trees, and fiery red maple trees kept the rays of the sun at bay, and allowed guests to walk a well-shaded path. The path was short, but winding, and allowed for full appreciation of the flowers and wild blooms that made up the garden.

Though the entire scene was peaceful, it did nothing to settle Sakumo further, and as he stepped up to the porch, and onto the deck, he removed sandals, and replaced them with a pair of tatami sandals. He then moved further into the confines of the teahouse, by opening the nearby shoji door, and stepping into the sunny interior.

The floors were adorned with lush tatami mats used for sitting, and entertaining. They were carefully placed around a stone hearth that dominated the center of the room, and was used for the heating of water which was used for tea. Tables were long, and made to rise low from the ground, people were seated around these tables on plush futons, talking in animated but hushed tones about whatever important issues effected their lives.

His well-trained eyes scanned the room with an icy glare that was mostly the result of experience, and not confidence in his ability to handle the situation that he was going to be placing himself into. His wife was not present among the crowds, but he was recognized by a kimono-clad hostess who had glanced over at the entrance just as he had slid the door firmly closed. She excused herself from her guests, and walked over to the heath in the center of the room to get the attendant their orders. Once her errand was completed, she made her way over to Sakumo with a steady pace, and measured grace that becomes second nature only to Ninja, and those who lived a life of traditional upbringing.

The woman wore a simple plum-colored kimono, and a black obi that was accented by a jasmine blossom pattern. Her hair was as black as the feathers on a raven's wing, and her eyes were a cloudy and pupiless silver. She was a Hyuuga, a branch member who kept her Curse Seal hidden by a concealment Genjutsu and a newer addition to the teahouse.

"Hello Sakumo-san, how are you this evening?" The demure Hyuuga asked.

"Well enough.... Ah... Hyuuga-san," the silver-haired man said with a visible grimace, he hated forgetting the names of people.

"It's Hyuuga Ume," she informed him with a subdued grin.

"Thanks, I'll try and remember it better this time," he replied.

"Are you here for tea?" Ume asked him.

"No, I'm here for my wife actually, have you seen her by chance?" Sakumo asked with a wry grin.

"Ah, of course, she's been expecting your arrival. Hokage-sama was in for tea just awhile ago, and mentioned you be stopping by this evening." Ume informed him. "She is actually taking a break out on the observation deck right now. If you'd like to go and join her, I'll bring the two of you some refreshments."

She gestured to a shoji door which was to the left of the entrance, and obscured by a privacy screen that depicted the growth of a bonsai. She then bowed her head slightly and excused herself. He made his way to the hidden shoji door, and opened it.

The angry orange glare of dying sunlight obscured his vision, and made him squint to cut the glare, while melodious chimes soothed his ears with their sweet song, which was orchestrated by the wind. Sakumo blinked to clear his vision, and his eyesight refocused on the visage of his wife. Her cheeks were cupped in the palms of both of her hands, and her elbows were propped up against the wooden railing the spanned the observation deck in its entirety. She was leaning against said railing and peering intently into the koi pond.

Though he could not see her face, he could imagine her intent gaze as she stared into the pond with inquisitive indigo eyes. He cleared his throat to alert her to his presence, and she grumbled a bit, perhaps in expectation that one of the staff was disturbing her.

"What is it? If Tojiro-kun has fouled another batch of tea, I swear he'll be doing dishes for the rest of the week." She threated half-heartedly.

"Ah, it's nothing like that Kumiko-chan, I was just wondering if I could trouble you for a pot of tea myself." Sakumo asked while closing the shoji behind him.

Though he was hardly accustomed to it, he heard her breath hitch, as she turned to face him. It was just then that he was able to see the rest of her, and though she was only taking a brief respite from the hustle-and-bustle of the teahouse, she was still a sight to behold. Her hair was dark, and lush, but also had a shade of chocolate when the light fell on it properly, it fell past her shoulders in silky waves and always left him longing to caress it. Her lips were full, and the color of ripe strawberries. Her cheekbones were well-defined, while lacking the severity of women who malnourish themselves for the effect. She wore a kimono the color of cranberries, and a scowl that could send even the bravest of men running for the hills.

"Hatake Sakumo, where the hell have you been?" Kumiko asked, "and so help me if you give me one of your lame excuses, I'll make you wish you'd been born a woman!"

"Well Kumiko-chan, it's a long story really, and it begins with a woman falling out of the sky...." Sakumo explained.

While young Mitarashi Anko was ascending the stairs to the Hokage Monument with would-be Shinobi Umino Iruka in tow and Hatake Sakumo was explaining to his wife why he would have to leave the village again (and why it wasn't a good idea for her to attempt assassination on the Hokage as a form of protest), Miyazawa Yuto was having a less colorful evening. While most Chunin would be busy training, or otherwise trying to better themselves physically to further their careers, Yuto couldn't be bothered with that at this stage in his duties. Early on he had come to the realization that the best way for him to excel at being a Shinobi was to perfect his niche, only by doing so would he ever be more valuable than he was now, and unfortunately working on his musical Jutsu mastery was a painstaking process, that tended to be more tedious than it did physically taxing. But he took solace in the idea that he would not need a brawny build, if he could lull his enemies to sleep with a soothing tune.

With Yuto, the trouble with working on his music had always been that he would become TOO engrossed in the composition and develop a case of tunnel vision, thereby ignoring the world around him. The results of which could lead to two distinct possibilities, the first being that he could be caught with his guard down by an enemy, a dangerous proposition to be sure. The second was that he was perceived by his peers as lax and lazy, which was not good for his professional image.

Regretfully he had fallen victim to this personal weakness, and failed to notice the ANBU Operative that entered through the balcony window of his small studio apartment, to make matters worse, he did not even readily respond when his name was being called. The thing that did get his attention was the rapport of a wooden bo staff against his bare oak flooring.

"Gaaaah..." Yuto looked up from his perch, and dropped the Shamisen he had been playing onto the bed.

"Ahem, sorry to startle you," the ANBU Operative muttered, "but you are Miyazawa Yuto, aren't you?"

The ANBU operative wore the standard issue black body suit, as well as the gray armor chest plate and limb protectors. He carried a brown satchel over his shoulder, and his face was adorned with a hedgehog animal mask. Before Yuto could respond to his abrupt question, the man stowed the bo staff he carried in the holster attached to his back, and reached into the satchel on his right side with his free hand.

"That's me, who wants to know?" Yuto asked. His eyes widened as he saw the ANBU Operative remove a mission scroll from his satchel, and toss it in his direction.

Yuto fumbled to catch the item, displacing his Shamisen abruptly, allowing it to tumble to the floor along with his pillows. He was able to grab the neck of the instrument before it crashed to the floor, but felt a snap and heard the all too familiar TWANG of a freshly broken string. Meanwhile the mission scroll traveled through the air in a perfect arc, hit him on the head, and then bounced to settle onto the bed next to him.

Barely able to keep his anger in check, Yuto grunted at the man while he adjusted himself into a sitting position, and brought his precious Shamisen into his lap to inspect the damage.

"I dunno why you're here Senpai, but I've gotta tell you, you've got the wrong guy," Yuto informed him through clenched teeth. "I don't do field ops."

The ANBU Operative chuckled in a humorless manner, and Yuto looked up to see that the man had already moved to the open window, and was crouching on the sill. The porcelain face of the hedgehog turned to stare at him expressionlessly, and a slightly muffled voice filtered through the mask.

"By order of Hokage-sama, your field commission has been activated," said the ANBU Operative, "it may be a bit of tough luck for you, but you don't have time to cry over spilled milk, you've got a mission to report for."

The ANBU Operative dove out the window, and Yuto was left to his own devices. He set the Shamisen down carefully on his bed, grabbed the mission scroll and began to read as he unfurled it. All the while his thoughts were not on his pending mission, but on the irony that had befallen him. In the end, his mother had been right, Western-style beds were too troublesome, and futons were much more practical.

Author's End Notes: Another delayed chapter, sorry folks. But the fate of Sakumo & crew will not be left to chance, things will continue! Meanwhile, I'd love comments, feedback and suggestions. I am getting hits, but are all of you enjoying the story? Let me know! And, a Beta would be awesome, I've been asking if anyone is interested, mainly because all I've got to keep my company at the moment are the crickets chirping in the tall grass outside.