Miserly Old Man, Trickster Fox

by FernandelDeLaFrance

One day, a weary old traveller comes to visit Konoha, intent on resting his bones and keeping his nose out of other people's business. That supposedly simple plan comes crashing down around his ears after he meets a cheerful, whiskered, and defenceless child. Ploys are made and broken, various groups make their move, and red eyes watch from the darkness as war looms over Konoha...

14. Chapter XIV – …Or You'll Reap the Storm

DO NOTE that this story IS NOT endorsed by the original holders of the intellectual rights or copyrights mentioned at the end of this chapter. This is a work of fanfiction based on the original work and its associated franchise, with the intent to amuse and distract its readers. There is absolute no intent to make money or otherwise deny the original copyright holders their given due. Should the original holders of the copyright be offended by my use of their rightful property, I will gladly take it down in accordance with the Terms of Service of this website. Please support the official release(s) mentioned below.

…

LOOK, EVERYBODY! IT'S ALIVE! THEY SAID I WAS A LAZY BASTARD, BUT I PROVED THEM WRONG! MUAHAHAHAHA!

Ahem. Ignore all that, please.

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the next chapter of Miserly Old Man, Trickster Fox!

This chapter took ages for a variety of reasons, the most notable being (a), that I had exams, (b) that I was sorely lacking inspiration and needed to get back into the flow of things before this chapter turned out right, (c) I had a bunch of different ideas for other stories that nagged at my brain and begged to be written before I could finish this, (d) I was working on my other stories, and (e) I am trying to watch HBO's Game of Thrones and also read George R.R. Martin's Song of Ice and Fire novels at the same time. Good stuff, but time-consuming. If this chapter reminds you a bit of those stories, it's probably accidental. There's less description of foodstuff, if that helps.

We are now getting to the interesting bits of the Uchiha Coup. The next chapter and resolution of this mess is already in the works, so the next chapter should take less time to be published.

I've read all of your great comments, and I always had a happy little moment when I got an alert telling me that someone had decided to subscribe to this story or add it to their favourites. I'm truly blessed that my readers seem to be the kind of people that have the infinite patience to put up with my lackadaisical attitude towards updating. Thank you very much, truly.

Okay, let's get started! Please leave me your reviews, comments, and questions. Hated it? Loved it? Liked some parts, disliked others? Tell me what you think, no matter how random or unhelpful you think it may be; I'd really like to know!

Also, I'm trying to learn foreign languages, so…

Kommentare auf Deutsch sind willkommen. Si vous préférez écrire vos commentaires et critiques en Français, soyez les bienvenus! Si ustedes quería escribir commentarios y critiquas en Espanol, ¡ustedes estaba bienvenido de hacer eso!

Please, enjoy this chapter and leave a review. I hope you have as much fun reading it as I had writing it.

This chapter has some violence and swearing for mature teenagers and adults. You have been warned. Please read only at your own risk.

…

Miserly Old Man, Trickster Fox

Chapter XIV – …You'll Reap the Storm.

…

Hyuuga Clan Estate, Village Hidden in the Leaves
One Week before the Autumn Festival

Although the Autumn Festival that year would be remembered in many years to come for entirely different (and more important) reasons, there would still be a few who recalled that this specific celebration was unusual because of something else. A minor thing, certainly, and soon forgotten by those who witnessed it in light of the events that followed, but unusual all the same.

It occurred about a week before the Autumn Festival began, when Hiashi Hyūga returned from one of the long "walks" he had been regularly taking for the last few months.

The guards at the gate to the compound straightened up when they saw him and his daughter approach, subtly trying to look efficient about doing their duty. The two men bowed when they passed the threshold, respectfully muttering his name and Hinata's, but he brusquely ignored them. Hinata tried to smile at them, but a glance at her father's stony expression made her bow her head low.

They stepped inside the elegant courtyard, and Hiashi waved over an attendant branch member before peering down at his daughter.

"We shall see each other later," he told her quietly, a tiny grimace playing across his face. "…It seems I have to see your grandfather. Go play with your sister."

Hinata gave him a small smile, bowing. "As you wish, Father."

Hiashi shot the attendant a sharp look and turned on his heel, hearing his daughter quietly greet the Branch member escorting her. He breathed out a faint sigh. She truly had a soft heart. She certainly hadn't gotten it from him.

His face clouded for a moment, and his pale eyes hardened. And she hadn't gotten it from his side of the family tree, either.

Hiashi silently walked the darkened corridors of the sprawling Hyūga clan compound, his grim mien warning all and sundry to get out of his way. They bowed deeply as he passed, not raising their heads at him – but he knew that many eyes were following him closely, even though none seemed to.

He refused to let that concern him. It had been that way his entire life.

Most of the time, the clan compound was dark and quiet. Light meant little to the Hyūga's all-seeing eye, and the darkness kept the oppressive heat in summer bearable. And silence signified poise, signified dignity, and the Hyūga prided themselves on both.

But even now, Hiashi's sharp ears snapped up the quiet grunts and shuffling feet of his clansmen practicing their fighting style a few courtyards away, the faint singing of women and the pluck of quiet instruments, men and women going about their chores, and the giggles and laughter of children too young to understand the dignity they would soon have to bear.

He navigated the maze of corridors, the number of clansmen thinning as he stepped deeper into the innermost sanctum of the compound. As he continued on his way, he heard the faint gurgle of flowing water, and he smiled in melancholy.

He stepped out into another courtyard, blinking at the sudden light and stopping. Old, knotted trees rose in the shadow of the overhanging roofs enclosing them, their leaves giving the place a vibrant glow as they hung low; bushes, ferns, and clumps of brightly coloured flowers littering the ground. A pond sat in the middle of the yard, its waters dark and deep and lapping at the worn stone steps leading into it, the statues of two guardian spirits standing there, watchful since ancient time. All the while, the water sprang forth from its spring, babbling happily, and the birds sang.

Hiashi closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the tranquillity. He had spent many evenings here with his wife, listening to the old spring and watching the beautiful garden. She had loved taking care of it.

Now, returning here was often a chore.

Hiashi clapped his hands together, muttering a quiet prayer to the guardian spirits for guidance, and walked around the garden until he reached just another nondescript screen door. He knelt, opening it gently – as dark as ever, it seemed – and bowing until his forehead nearly touched the ground.

"Honourable Father," he spoke, his voice coldly formal.

The room was as dark as ever, the only light being the one framing Hiashi, but the frail voice that answered him was unmistakable. "Ah. There you are."

Hiashi didn't rise from the floor.

"…Come closer, child."

Hiashi fluidly came to his feet and stepped into the room, closing the door until only a sliver of light remained. He approached quietly, his eyes on the wooden floor, and knelt three paces away from the tired voice.

"Look at me."

Hiashi did, and saw an old, frail man who had once been tall and proud, a long time ago, but was now only a shadow of his former self. The head of the Hyūga clan knelt much like his son did, straight-backed and formal, even though his hands had grown stiff and slow and his movements small and measured.

When he looked up into his face, Hiashi noticed that there were far more lines and wrinkles than he remembered from his childhood. Even so, his father had seemed to age rapidly in the last few years. His once all-seeing eyes had begun to become milky, their movements slowing and their looks dull – he was nearly blind now, a lifetime of chakra flowing through the delicate ocular organs ruining them beyond repair.

Well, Father, Hiashi thought bitterly. It seems even giants grow old.

There was a pause as they both studied each other.

"Well, Hiashi?"

Hiashi raised a cool eyebrow. "I was under the impression that you summoned me here."

The old man sighed. "…How cold of you. I was hoping that I might have a conversation with my son, now that the festival grows near. I was hoping to celebrate it with you, perhaps."

"We never truly… celebrated it, Father. We only mourned our dead. And even then, I would rather spend my time differently. I have plans for that evening."

"Plans that are more important than staying at your old father's side?"

Hiashi jutted out his chin, unflinching. "Yes."

Withered fingers clenched on old knees, and the elder considered him thoughtfully. "I could always order you to stay…"

"But you won't."

"…No. I won't." The old man studied Hiashi with eyes that had only grown whiter with age. "Is my company that unbearable for you, child?"

"I have always been there when required."

The elder scoffed, the sound coming out as a rasping huff. "No one would ever dare to question your filial respect, Hiashi. Your genuine love for your father, though? Now that is another matter entirely."

His son's fists clenched on his knees, his body shaking faintly as he quickly looked away. It had been the first time that his father had called by his name in a long, long time. After Hizashi had died, his father had seen no need to differentiate between his children anymore.

"Ah… I seem to have upset you. Forgive me."

There was a silence that neither of them knew how to fill.

His father sighed. "…Shall we proceed to business, then?"

Hiashi took a deep breath, closing his eyes. "Please, Father."

"As you wish." The old man shifted slightly. "I know that you and your eldest daughter have taken to visiting the jinchūriki. Quite regularly, too. I am worried."

Hiashi's tone had grown glacial, colder than the highest peaks of Snow Country. "Your worries are misplaced."

"And yet most people would say that they are justified, considering the threat the boy poses."

"We Hyūga have never cared what other people thought."

"True enough." They stared at each other for a long moment, and the clan head blinked first. "If it was anyone else seeing the child, I wouldn't intervene. But your daughter is another matter entirely, considering her fate as the future clan heir after my, ah… passing."

She has a name, you bastard, Hiashi seethed, glaring. The elder ignored him, continuing to speak.

"I want you to stop seeing the Uzumaki child, and your daughter to be kept at home. She is to concentrate on her clan training until she can represent our clan at the Academy, instead of pursuing that pointless folly of yours."

"No."

The elder frowned. "I'm sorry?"

Hiashi looked him straight in the eye, gritting his teeth. "I refuse, Father."

The elder sighed. "How obstinate of you," he murmured, tapping his wizened fingers on his knees. "Very much like your brother, except that I have no seal to force you into compliance."

Rage; dark, long-hidden rage welled up inside Hiashi, and he knew it had cracked the mask that was his face. Yet his father studied him calmly, without fear.

"Does it mean that much to you?" the old man asked. "That thing masquerading as a child?"

The clan heir struggled to repress the thought of how startlingly easy it would be to slam a chakra-enhanced palm into the elder's chest and crush his lungs, but he pushed it away, growling under his breath. "He has a name," he gritted out. "Naruto Uzumaki."

"So do all our enemies. What does it matter?"

Again their gazes locked in silence, and his father glanced away first. "In my long life, Hiashi," he said quietly, "I have found that it is easier to kill not knowing your enemy's name. You would do well to remember that."

Hiashi knew. He knew all too well. He'd be damned if he conceded the old man another victory, though, any victory at all, instead choosing to stare at his father, cold and expectant as his temper flared.

"I could simply order you to stop seeing that child…" the elder mused aloud.

"But you won't."

"Oh? What makes you so sure?"

Hiashi thought quickly. His father may have been a ninja, but that had been a long time ago, and he was also a politician. Moral flexibility had its advantages – all he needed was a convincing reason.

"…Of course, such an order would be within your rights as clan head," he began slowly. In a clan and all matters relating to it, the head's word was law, the only overruling power being the council of elders. Even the Hokage had no right to intervene in clan disputes. Those were family matters, after all. "I would obey your order, as would my daughter."

His father nodded gravely. "As duty dictates."

"Indeed. But…"

"But?"

Hiashi looked at his father, his muscles coiling like loaded springs under his skin and glaring. "Yes, I would obey you," he hissed. "But you certainly shouldn't expect me to do it willingly. If you order this, Father," he said, the title bitterly mocking, "then I shall make sure that you will never speak a word with your granddaughters. Ever again."

The old man had become very still. Hiashi waited with bated breath until the elder shifted, a wheezy gasp of anger escaping him. "How dare you—"

"I dare," he said bluntly. "You may be my father by blood, but you never acted like one." Hiashi's next words were spoken quietly, nearly inaudible. "If you had, you would have never sent Hizashi—your son, who loved you with all his being—to die a pointless, cruel death at the hands of our foes. And you tortured him many years before that with that seal. Did you ever really care for him, Father? Did you?"

"How dare you," the old man whispered, sitting utterly still. "How dare you call your brother's sacrifice pointless? How dare you!" The elder pitched forward in fury, but his back was straight and his eyes had grown heated in a vicious glare as he venomously spat out his words.

"I am the head of the Hyūga clan. It is my duty to protect our family—every single one of them! I could have refused to bow down to the Cloud, treacherous, backstabbing vipers that they were, but then the whole clan would have drowned in their own blood. War, Hiashi! It would have meant war! Our brothers, sisters, and children would have died in droves, the crows pecking their eyes from their corpses littering the battlefield! Do you remember the times of strife before the peace we have now, Hiashi? Do you remember the wailing of our mourning wives, the tears of our husbands, the cries of our parents when our children never returned home!? I do! I remember them! Every! Last! One!"

The old man gasped for breath, bracing himself on the floor and heaving. Hiashi wanted to reach out and steady him when he began coughing violently, but hesitated.

After a while, the elder took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and sat up straight, his jaw muscles working as he tried to calm himself down. "…War was no choice at all. And no matter what I chose, I would have lost a son in either case. And in the end," he whispered, "I chose the one that would take our clan's secrets to the grave with him, protecting his brethren to the very last breath."

The clan head opened his milky eyes, and they had grown cold. "So don't you dare sit there from the safety of your irresponsibility, with your grief clouding your judgment, and accuse me of not having cared for my own flesh and blood. For not having loved my son."

Hiashi was silent, staring at his father. The old man had turned his head, blinking once as his failing eyes fell on the silk dividing screen that was the room's sole decoration. The entire panorama was decorated with beautiful birds in flight, trilling their songs into the pale blue sky.

The elder tore his gaze away, peering down at the hands clenched in his lap and blinking quickly. "You may have lost a brother," he spoke slowly, his voice heavy, "but I lost a son. Remember that."

He looked up and faced Hiashi, an eerie emotion in his nearly-blinded eyes that he had never seen before. "And I have no intention of losing the only child I have left."

Hiashi said nothing, and they both listened to the sound of the rippling water outside and the song of the birds.

"You still intend to defy me," his father said matter-of-factly.

Hiashi simply nodded. "Yes."

The old man made a thoughtful noise. "…You would truly defy your own father over an outsider? Someone not of our blood?"

Hiashi smiled thinly. "He is no ordinary child."

"He certainly is not," his father agreed. "But why would you go to such lengths to keep seeing him? To allow your daughter to consort with the likes of him?"

Hiashi thought long and hard before settling on an answer. "He makes Hinata smile."

"…Is that so?"

"She hadn't smiled in years before she met him. Truly smiled, I mean."

"So perhaps she is merely overly trusting…" His father raised his hand when Hiashi opened his mouth to protest, his expression pensive. "I can see why you would treasure that, though, even if it may endanger her soon… Very well. I shall respect your decision."

Hiashi blinked, and his father chuckled—a coughing, unhealthy sound that Hiashi hadn't heard in years. "Oh, don't look so surprised. I am not long for this world. One day—sooner rather than later, I'm afraid—you will have to make these decisions in my stead. You had better get used to it, hmm? Besides," and here the old man smiled crookedly, "a man's duty is not to his clan alone, but also to his children."

He waved Hiashi away. "Now go. All this talk has made me tired. I need my rest."

Hiashi nearly forgot the deeply ingrained protocol, but touched his forehead to the floor in a respectful gesture, feeling both confused and relieved. As he got up to leave, a thought struck him, and he hesitated at the door. "Father."

"What is it, son?" a tired voice wafted back to him from the darkness of the room.

"I will be gone with Hinata during the evening of the Festival. Could you watch over Hanabi and Neji for me?"

"…I would love to."

"Thank you, Father."

Hiashi stepped outside and cautiously closed the screen door, being careful not to disturb his resting father, turning around to bask in the peace of the garden his wife had always loved to tend.

And for some reason Hiashi didn't quite understand, his heart felt lighter than it did before.

...

Southern Quadrant, Village Hidden in the Leaves, Central Fire Country
Eve of the Autumn Festival

A lone figure sat high above the village, watching the sun bleed into the horizon and enjoying the last of the day's warmth. Soon, the winds grew colder and the light dim, and many coloured lights winked on inside the village, the crowds carrying them bobbing up and down the village's streets like chains of bustling ants.

Usually, the city would slowly, but surely fall asleep once night fell, along with most of its citizens. But not tonight.

The lone figure stood up on the Fourth Hokage's spiky head, grinning widely before eagerly taking off towards the village below like a shot, jumping from rocky ledge to the next with practiced ease.

Tonight, he would celebrate his birthday with all the people he cared about. But there was still some time to visit the festival first.

…

Western Quadrant, Village Hidden in the Leaves
19:54 pm, Central Time

The year's celebrations had been kicked off a while ago with the loud ring of a bronze gong ten feet wide being struck in front of the Hokage Tower at nightfall; a clear, deep sound that resonated throughout the entire village. The cheers and well-wishes of the villagers soon followed.

Tabibito strolled along Konoha's main road, bottle in hand and curiously peering at the people passing him by. It seemed that the entirety of Konoha's populace was out and about for the festival, dressed in their finest clothes and chatting with their friends and families. Coloured paper lanterns were hung from windows or arrayed in garlands that crisscrossed the street, illuminating the dark autumn night with soft light in countless colours and shades. He could see peddlers selling sweets and snacks to smiling parents and laughing children, the clever traders exhorting their wares as loudly as they could over the chatter and din of the passing crowd.

The doors and windows of restaurants were thrown wide open to welcome groups of friends and colleagues out to eat, drink and celebrate, and the old traveller had already seen quite a few troupes of travelling actors performing famous old plays and comedies, a few shinobi even putting on demonstrations of showy ninjutsu and weapons skills – juggling kunai, throwing shuriken at each other and dodging them in twisted choreographies, some even going through various acrobatic forms of swordsmanship or taijutsu to loud whistles, appreciative applause and acclaim from the crowds of civilians surrounding them. Music was heard from inside the bars and played at every corner, and people were dancing in the streets.

It was glorious, cheerful, happy pandemonium.

Tabibito walked through it like a ghost.

It's strange, he reflected as he walked through the streets thronging with happy revellers. He had travelled across the lands for a long time, and had seen many festivals and celebrations in his life. During his time in the service of the Kazekage, though, there had always been far too little time to celebrate. Festivals were often an easy opportunity for assassination and espionage, when nobles mingled with their subjects and alcohol loosened tongues and inhibitions. And even after he had left his home – or rather, after he had been exiled from it; the distinction was unclear – he found himself unable to really partake in the good cheer that accompanied such happy rituals and occasions.

The old man lifted his bottle, chugging a good amount of the strong alcohol. "Sucky thing about being a traveller," he mumbled, addressing no one in particular, "is that you can go anywhere you want, true enough – but no matter where you are, you're not home. Never home."

"Oh, cheer up, old chum!" a cheerful voice bellowed into his ear, an arm slamming down around his shoulders and squeezing him tightly in a friendly half-hug. "What's gotten you so gloomy tonight? It's time to party!"

Once he had suppressed the instinctive urge to snap the man's forearm and drive a kunai through his jaw and into his brain, Tabibito managed to calm his racing heart down and stared into the orange mask of his overly-friendly assailant. "D'you make it a habit of sneaking up on poor old fellows like me?!" he hissed angrily. "I nearly had a heart attack!"

"Oh, come on!" the man whined childishly, his orange mask bobbing up and down. "This is the Autumn Festival, old man! You're supposed to dance on tables, laugh at dumb jokes, and drink until your bladder explodes or you start pissing into nearby bushes and dark alleys! And perhaps make love to strange bearded women you've never met before and suddenly seem totally hot and beautiful when intoxicated, oh yes!" The masked man nodded sagely, letting go of Tabibito's shoulders and dancing a strange little jig that involved uncontrolled flailing of the arms and legs. "That's what partying means! Whoooo, partay!"

Tabibito couldn't help but chortle out an incredulous laugh. "Enthusiastic fella, aren't ya?"

"Oh, believe me, old man, I'm enthusiastic about everything," the stranger said, freezing his absurd dance mid-movement and turning his head towards the old traveller to nod as seriously as he could. "Dancing, partying, or world domination, doesn't really matter! If you gotta do something, at least go for broke and do it right!"

"World domination, eh?" Tabibito asked, shaking his head and grinning. "How's that coming along, then?"

"Oh, not bad," the masked man said, unfreezing from his pose and thumbing his chin as if in deep thought. "Bit boring, if you ask me." He leaned forwards, whispering conspiratorially. "But I've gotta tell you, the people in the world domination business are no fun at all! They're always so serious! Never laugh, never smile, never joke! Always plotting and scheming."

"I guess they'd have to be," Tabibito agreed, wondering where this conversation was going and whether he was drunk enough to continue it.

"True, true," the stranger said, waving his arms excitedly. "But if I'm serious and plotting world domination all the time, then I never get to drink until I pass out or make love to the bearded women! And that's booooring! Partying's more fun, that's for sure!"

"…People ever tell you that you're a wee bit crazy, pal?"

For some reason, Tabibito thought that the stranger was beaming at him from behind his mask. "All the time!"

"Somehow, I'm not surprised." Tabibito corked his bottle, lightly throwing it at the friendly stranger. The man caught it in one hand with surprising ease. "Here, on me."

"What, you're not going to finish it?" the man asked, tilting his head quizzically.

"Nah, I'm not really in the mood for drinking," the old traveller said with a weary grin and giving the masked stranger a wave as he continued past him on his way. "See you around, youngster. Don't pass out too early, alright?"

"Hey, old man!"

Tabibito half turned around, glancing from under the brim of his rice hat at the stranger. "Yeah, what?"

The masked man had uncorked the saké bottle, making a show of deeply inhaling the sharp scent. "…Ah, that's good stuff! Hey, if you're not in the drinking mood, there's a temple down Toriyama Street about ten minutes from here."

Tabibito stared at him, puzzled. "Why would I want to go to a temple during a time like this?" he asked, spreading his arms to indicate the festival around them.

The masked stranger gave him an exaggerated shrug. "I don't know! But it seems you don't know either, eh? How about you try something different and find out?"

For only a moment, Tabibito remembered happier times, dimly recalling occasions when a certain beautiful woman had insisted on them visiting the Hidden Sand Village's shrine to give offerings to the Enlightened One and the spirits said to reside there. He'd always grumbled and complained, asking what the point of it was, but he'd done it nonetheless. She would pout at him if he didn't come along.

He hadn't visited a temple of his own volition in a very long time.

"…Yeah," he said slowly. "I might just swing by that temple and check it out. Thanks, pal."

"No problem!" the masked stranger said cheerfully, raising the saké bottle in a drunkard's salute. "Hope it helped!"

Tabibito barked out a laugh, shaking his head in amusement as he turned around to leave, joining the throngs of villagers in the streets. He never questioned how the masked stranger had ever managed to sneak up on and surprise him, or how they were never interrupted or walked into by any passersby in the crowded street.

And if he had turned around, he would have surely asked himself why the stranger seemed to hide his face behind a one-eyed mask, or how exactly he had managed to disappear from one moment to another, faster than any shinobi could possibly have done without using any hand seals. Or how he had been so easily convinced to give up his alcohol in the first place.

In hindsight, the old traveller reflected a long time later, he really should have realized at that moment that something strange was going on that night in Konoha.

…

Market District, Northern Quadrant, Village Hidden in the Leaves
19:33 pm, Central Time

"I'm telling you, Akito, this is some horseshit of the highest order!"

The chūnin didn't bother looking up from his book, his voice bored. "That so?"

"Yeah! I mean, come on, this is the Autumn Festival! I haven't seen my old team in, like, three years because either it was me who was out of the village on missions, or it was them! And now that we're all in town for once, I get pulled for garrison duty? That's bullshit!"

This particular garrison post was a building nearly indistinguishable from the buildings around it, at least from the outside. Located on the main street of Konoha's market district, it looked just like another wealthy merchant's store and warehouse. Once you opened the back door and took a look around, however, that impression quickly vanished: instead of bales of crops, barrels of soy sauce or sacks of spice and other goods, the 'warehouse' was filled with double bunk beds, most of them occupied by older genin and inexperienced chūnin that were getting some leadership experience before shipping out for duty outside the village walls.

It was cramped, stuffy, and boredom hung in the air like heavy smoke, the only sounds being the noises of the festival outside and the low conversation of a few men and women sitting around playing a card game.

'Oh, and let's not forget Daisuke's bitching,' Akito thought sourly.

The most senior shinobi in charge of the barracks sighed deeply. Being assigned to one of the village's quick reaction forces during a festival was quite possibly one of most torturous assignments possible: everyone outside was having fun, and you were here, stuck inside because there might be an emergency that required the immediate deployment of two full platoons of shinobi. Boredom and envy dominated here. It was a small wonder that no one ever volunteered for this job.

Akito took a deep breath, snapping his book close and glaring at Daisuke, who had been complaining about his marching orders for the entire evening. "Did you file your paperwork?"

The senior genin sitting on the neighbouring bunk snapped his mouth shut, looking at him suspiciously. "What?"

"Look, Dai," Akito sighed, straightening up from his own bunk. "Not that I don't appreciate your great company, seriously, but you've been bitching at me about this job for the last two hours. You were the one who asked to be garrisoned in the village, remember?"

"Yeah, it was close to my parent's place! So what if I did?" Daisuke crossed his arms, glaring. "Didn't think I'd be stuck in here during the festival, though!"

"Look, when you're assigned to Village Defence, we all get to do this gig one year or another, alright?" Akito continued, slowly getting annoyed. "If you wanted to go to the festival that badly, then you should have filled out the paperwork to get your holidays! Easy, man! Did you do it?"

"…I already used up all my holidays this year," Daisuke muttered, looking away.

"Then quit your bitching and moaning already, Daisuke," Akito retorted, returning to reading his paperback. "Shit happens, deal with it."

"…What am I gonna do all night, then?"

Akito shrugged, lacking any and all sympathy. "Should have brought a book like me, smart guy. That is, of course, if you can actually read."

A snarl greeted that little aside, but Akito ignored it. Daisuke may not have been the sharpest knife in the drawer, but even he knew that assaulting your direct superior would only get him into trouble. Especially if said superior had earned his rank fair and square, like Akito did during the Third Shinobi World War.

So they simply sat there in their crowded barracks, the muted conversations and the muffled sounds of the festival outside the only sounds they heard.

Akito frowned, straining his ears. Except that this wasn't the only sound he heard.

"Daisuke, you hear that too?"

The senior genin didn't even look up. "Yeah, so what? It's only a bunch of fireworks."

"Strange sort of firework," Akito muttered sceptically as the sounds continued, the veteran chūnin straining to pinpoint the exact source of the noise. "Bang and whine, instead of whine and bang. Hell, last time I heard something like that was…" His eyes widened and he leapt up from his cot. "On your feet! Everyone, get up on your fee—"

The front door was blown off its hinges, falling inwards, and something small and heavy was thrown into the room. Reflexes that Akito had thought he'd lost long ago kicked in, and he threw himself to the floor, clapping his hands over his ears and scrunching his eyes shut.

There was a thunderous explosion, and he heard garbled shouts of surprise from his platoon, a shrill whine in his ears drowning out their screams and all other noise.

And then Daisuke toppled over the bunk bed, eyes wide. A kunai had been thrown into his throat, the head lolling grotesquely from the mattress. Blood pulsed from the severed carotid artery, running down the side of his face into his short hair and onto the floor of the barracks.

The chūnin knew right then and there that he wasn't dealing with amateurs. Lying on his stomach, he could feel the fleetingly faint steps of experienced ninja running across the solid planks of the barracks floor. There were many of them, and there seemed to be no resistance. A few more flashbang tags exploded upstairs in the communications room, shaking dust from the ceiling, with indistinct screams accompanying them suddenly being followed by silence.

All his comrades were probably dead or incapacitated now.

And if he didn't want to join them, all he could do was play dead.

Daisuke stared at Akito, his eyes pleading and his mouth gargling blood in a farce of an upturned smile. Akito just stared back, silently begging him to be quiet.

Then Daisuke's neck slackened and his bloodied head hung limply, his eyes staying wide open and staring at nothing.

His friend's blood pooled around his prone form, but Akito forced himself to not even twitch or grimace. He'd seen enough dead or dying people during the war to know what made the difference between the two to an outside observer.

He heard faint steps hushing across the floor. "Yakumi-sama," a low voice spoke. Akito could see two pair of sandals joining together if he carefully inched his head to peer past Daisuke's curtain of bloodied hair. "We've secured the upper floor."

"Prisoners?"

"Some. We've cuffed them."

Akito heard a disdainful snort. "Dispose of them. They're worth nothing as hostages to the usurper, and they'll just make trouble if they ever get loose. Less loyalist scum for us to fight."

"…Yes, sir. After that?"

"Leave a skeleton crew and keep sending reports to the main tower. We can't let the usurper know that we are taking out his response forces. Clean up; we move onto the next response station in five minutes."

"As you command, Yakumi-sama."

One pair of sandals disappeared, and Akito blinked once or twice as he heard them disappear up the stairs. Yakumi. He knew that voice, remembered it from his stint in the MPs as a junior chūnin. He was an Uchiha, a jōnin in the Konoha Military Police. And apparently they were trying to take over the village. Oh, this was just all kinds of bad.

Akito nearly jumped into the air when the springs of the mattress above him creaked loudly, a hand reaching down to Daisuke's throat, ripping the kunai lodged in it loose with a meaty squelch. "Impure blood," Yakumi muttered, taking a clean corner of the bed sheet to wipe his weapon clean. Akito tried very hard not to move at all, holding his breath.

Yakumi cleaned the worst gore off his tool, sitting down on the mattress next to Daisuke's corpse. "I'd lie if I said I regretted your death," he said conversationally, jostling the limp head with a knee and smirking. "Trash, all of you. Once we lead this village, all those unworthy of the title 'shinobi' will be stripped of their headbands. Heh, you might just make the newest training dummies for our young to practice on. It might just be a waste, otherwise."

Akito didn't even dare blink.

Yakumi leaned forward, small black eyes boring into Akito's own. "Don't you agree, scum?"

And that was when Akito realized that the Uchiha was staring right into his eyes.

He leapt upright from the pool of his friend's blood, his hand flying to his pouch and coming out with a kunai of his own, stabbing the Uchiha through the jaw and driving the length of metal through his jaw in a movement that he had used dozens of times during the war. Yakumi twitched and fell still.

Akito let out a quiet breath of relief, trying to loosen the weapon.

And then Yakumi's mouth opened in a bloody sneer. "Useless," the face hissed, its dark eyes vicious and cold.

And then they bled into red, the corpse of Yakumi exploding in a river of blood across Akito's hands.

Genjutsu. Damn it all, it was genjutsu!

When Akito had his thoughts in order again, he suddenly, almost detachedly realized that he was stained from head to toe with blood. Daisuke's, probably. He'd lain in it for a while, after all.

The chūnin was lying with his back against the bunk bed, not moving. He tried to get up, but his limbs refused to obey him, dull aches of pain coming from the inside of his wrists. Akito was unable to muster up the strength to lift his arms to inspect them, and just slowly strained to raise his head.

It was only when he realized how lightheaded he felt and when he saw the red leaving his slit wrists in floods that he suspected that a lot of the blood on the floor was probably his own, too.

"Nice try, scum," Yakumi said scornfully, and Akito struggled to lift his head to stare up at the Uchiha, whose kunai was once again stained a dark red. "But not enough to fool my eyes. Any last words?"

"Yeah…" Akito slurred, his tongue growing leaden as bright spots danced across his eyes. For auspicious occasions, dust off the classics. Daisuke always used to say that. "…I fucked your mum…"

"And somehow, all this play is no longer fun," Yakumi muttered, slashing his kunai with contemptuous ease across Akito's throat. The Uchiha stood up, not even bothering to witness his victim's last moments. "Let's go, my brothers and sisters. There's still work to be done."

Akito heard their steps leading away into the distance, and his chin fell on his chest as his strength, at last, left him and his vision slowly blurred and darkened.

The last thing he saw before Death claimed him was Daisuke's blank gaze.

…

Eastern Quadrant, Village Hidden in the Leaves
19:45 pm, Central Time

There was something strange about walking these streets, Hiashi thought.

He was holding his daughter's hand in his own, both of them ambling through the streets of Konoha crowded with revelling villagers that shouted, laughed, and danced. Colours flashed past them in countless lanterns, streamers, costumes, clothes, and grotesque festival masks, and people jostled and joked as they kept each other company. The streets were thronged with people, making progress slow and arduous, and Hiashi's instincts screamed at him to get out of the crowd and onto a rooftop, or someplace where any random passerby might draw a kunai and stab him where he stood.

But that wasn't what he found strange. It wasn't the usual apprehension and paranoia he felt, to his own surprise, but something else. It took him a while until he recognized it again.

Anonymity.

Usually, people would make way for the head of the Hyūga clan, would bow as he passed, would whisper behind raised hands about politics and the rumours that surrounded the heir apparent of one of the most influential clans in Konoha.

Now, however, everyone was so preoccupied with other things – laughing, dancing, drinking, eating, spending time with their friends and family, watching the fireworks that crackled cheerfully in the dark sky overhead – that he was just another face in the crowd, just another father enjoying the festival with his child.

It was a strange feeling, a liberating one. Hiashi decided to cherish it while it lasted, and smiled faintly as Hinata abandoned all pretence of decorum to crane her neck at the many strange and beautiful sights they passed, her lavender eyes wide with wonder.

"Now, now, child," he chided her under his breath, still smiling. "We wouldn't want to be late to the celebration, would we?"

Hinata's head snapped back around, and she lowered her head, clutching the present she had chosen specifically for her friend closer to herself with her other hand. "I'm sorry, Father."

"There is no need to be. We still have time, no? We can slow down a bit of you wish to take a look around." He looked up as they reached the crossroads that marked the border between the akasen and the rest of the city, thronged with revellers and merrymakers. "I do hope it hasn't changed that much since the last time I visited…"

Hinata looked up at him, silently scandalized. He raised an eyebrow at her, shrugging. "I was young once too, you know. And that was before I knew your mother. My teacher had this rather distracting habit of taking us to brothels as tokens of his gratitude and respect, and as a sign of his… magnanimity, I think he would call it." He shook his head. "Yes, that arrogance of his would be typical."

"…So he was like Uncle Tabi?"

Hiashi shuddered, memories of his days as a genin returning unbidden and in great clarity. Great eyesight could be a curse as well. "As much as I dislike that old codger, my teacher was even worse. A good and loyal man, perhaps, but pray you never meet him."

Hinata couldn't help but giggle at the haunted look on her father's face, but decided to remain silent and watch the red light district around her, its trappings and decorations having become even more elaborate, colourful, and flamboyant than usual for the run-in clientele that would storm the bars, restaurants, theatres, and brothels during the festival.

She had never seen the village quite like this. It wouldn't have been proper to have been out at this time, and the chance to see all these strange new things made her heart sing. She smiled to herself. A Hyūga wishing for another pair in the back of her head was rare indeed.

They walked through the singing, dancing, and laughing crowd, Hiashi occasionally tapping an unruly villager with two fingers as they passed, making himself a quick way through the throngs. Soon, however, the crowd thinned out as they approached a certain building, and Hiashi realized that it was their destination.

The Dancing Dragon. It looked nicer than what he expected from Tabibito, really. Perhaps he should give the old lunatic more credit.

The thickset bouncer – a former shinobi, if his posture was any indication – shifted on his feet, glaring at them as they walked up the wooden steps. Hiashi narrowed his eyes at him.

The man paled considerably, bowing deeply. "Milord," he muttered, stepping aside. "You honour us with your patronage."

Hiashi brushed past him, not giving him another glance. "I know." He heard Hinata mutter a greeting, but ignored it in favour of taking a hard look around the room where his friend's child was growing up.

The inside was tastefully decorated in a dull, comfortable red, and people were arrayed around the tables being served by young, pretty girls wearing colourful and elaborately decorated kimonos. Guests and courtesans were talking in low voices, drinking, smoking, exchanging jokes and stories – keeping each other company. It was calm compared to the merry mayhem outside. Hiashi liked it already.

There was a sharp whistle, and the heir's head snapped around to the far corner of the large room. A scarred man with a bandanna wrapped around his skull sat at a round table with a few others, waving them over. "Over here, pal!"

Hiashi picked his way through the tables, frowning as he approached. "Do I know you?"

"Nah, probably not," the scarred man growled with a grin as he rose, his mangled face twisting grotesquely. "But I know you well enough, Lord Hyūga. And the little lady. You're Naruto's friends, aren't ye?"

Hiashi raised an eyebrow as he clasped the man's outstretched hand. A firm grip and calloused palms that seemed used to handling weapons. "I'll admit that this is not usually how people remember me."

"With us akasenko, you're only really worth knowing if ye have a friend amongst us, or if ye have enough power to give us trouble," the scarred man said with a twist of a torn mouth. "Funny thing ye happen to be both, huh? Ichirai Hōshi. Welcome to my place." He swept out an arm. "These are all friends to our crazy birthday boy and the old coot. Sit down, sit down! Drinks are on me!"

Introductions followed. There were two shinobi in their teens there—a scarred, brown-haired fellow and one with stark grey hair—both of who seemed very flustered at the sudden appearance of village nobility and bowed profusely, calling themselves Iruka Umino and Mizuki. Hiashi nodded at them, remembering the former's performance at the last chūnin exam and congratulating him on it.

Next to them sat two pretty young girls in flowery kimonos—one brunette and pleasant, the other blonde and imperious—that bowed gracefully at the waist and introduced themselves as Shizuka and Mayumi. A spotty youth with a perpetual scowl bowed his head and named himself as Masaru, one of the Dragon's employees.

Hiashi glanced around and spotted quite a few empty cushions around the low table. Iruka shot him a nervous smile. "We were expecting more people," he said apologetically. "The Ichiraku family has to work during the festival, unfortunately, and it seems that Naruto and Uncle Ta— I mean Ryokousha-dono—haven't appeared yet." He bowed his head deeply. "I'm sorry that you came out of your way for this—"

"Nonsense," Hiashi said, choosing a seat with his back to the wall out of paranoid habit. He smirked faintly at the people around him. "Somehow, I am not surprised that all of you are Naruto's friends. Those who would never find themselves sitting at the same table suddenly do. Irritating little hellion, isn't he?"

A ripple of laughter and a round of agreeing nods followed, and Hiashi could see the tension diffuse from the table like dew in the rising sun. Hinata shot her father a reproachful look, before bowing and quietly introducing yourself. It took no less than two minutes before she sat between Mayumi and Shizuka, the cheerful girl fussing over how cute she looked in her kimono and making her blush and stammer like she hadn't in weeks, Mayumi watching with a sardonic smile and making the occasional comment as she poured drinks.

Iruka, Mizuki and Hōshi started discussing the various rumours about troop movements in Lightning Country and the recent raids by renegades from Earth Country, Hiashi finding himself drawn into the conversation to recall a few missions he'd taken part in. After an hour of meandering talk, however, it devolved into a comparison of the various wines that Fire Country was so famous for, the girls joining in to tease and laugh at the two increasingly flushed youngsters, much to the elders' amusement.

Somehow, Hiashi felt more relaxed than he had in a long time.

Which is why when Naruto suddenly appeared hanging upside down from the window and yelling out an enthusiastic "Hi, everybody!", Hiashi flinched and nearly choked on his cup of wine. He amended it into a small cough and a glare, Hinata hiding her smile behind a sleeve.

"Hey there, little rascal," Hōshi said with dancing eyes, grinning lopsidedly. "You're late."

"Nope, you're just all early," Naruto retorted with an upside-down laugh as he hung from the window frame. "Everyone doing okay?"

"Naruto!" Iruka snapped. "Remember what I told you about unexpectedly dropping in on people?!"

"That it's rude, unfriendly, and expresses a lack of courtesy and respect for your allies and comrades," Naruto recited from memory, swinging back and forth with a grin. "Okay, so if Iruka-nii's lecturing me already, then that means he's doing okay. How about everyone else?"

Iruka spluttered in indignation as Mizuki's shoulders shook with silent laughter, but Mayumi just whipped her blond hair over her shoulder. "We were doing quite well," she said haughtily, "at least until you turned up."

"So cold, Mayumi-nee-san. Still mad at me for those sparkles I put into your shampoo?"

She threw a peanut at him, which Naruto caught in his mouth. Still hanging upside down, he waved cheerfully. "Hey, Hinata-chan! Having fun so far? The festival's great, isn't it?"

"I-I'm doing well, Naruto-kun." Hinata smiled faintly. "Thank you for the invitation. The festival's lovely."

"Good to hear! Hey, Hiashi-san!" Naruto locked his hands behind his head, grinning cheekily. "How's it hanging?"

"Punctuality is a virtue, young man," Hiashi said severely, still glaring. "As is avoiding bad puns. I thought we all taught you better than that."

"One of these days," Naruto swore solemnly, pointing at him, "I'm gonna make you laugh. Believe it!"

"I'll believe that when I see it," Hōshi interjected. "Now, are ye going to stop playing an overgrown orange bat and join us, or is this going to take a while longer?"

"Where's Uncle Tabi?"

Silence and frowns greeted that question, and Naruto's face fell. "He's not here yet?"

"Are we sure he's not utterly wasted and lying in a ditch somewhere?" Mizuki hissed into Iruka's ear. A punch on the arm silenced him, but uneasy looks were exchanged around the table, the old traveller's reputation being well known.

"I'm sure he'll arrive soon," Hiashi interrupted the whispers, his voice steely. "Do you trust Ryokousha-san, Uzumaki-san?"

Naruto blinked owlishly. "Uh, yeah?"

"Then trust him to remember how important this celebration is to you," Hiashi continued, his blank white eyes fixed on Naruto's slitted blue ones. He patted an empty cushion next to him. "Now, get down here and join us. We're here to celebrate your birthday and the Autumn Festival together, after all. And I have no intention of seeing Hinata disappointed tonight because she couldn't give you her present."

Naruto swung himself inside the Dancing Dragon, his smile incredulously happy. "You got me presents?!"

"Of course, sweetie!" Shizuka said, getting up to hug him. "Why shouldn't we? Happy birthday!"

And as everyone called out their best wishes to him, Naruto just kept smiling, blinking quickly and grinning. Everyone tactfully ignored it when he wiped his eyes with his sleeve before loudly thanking them all.

Even though he wondered where the crazy old man that made it all possible was, he wouldn't let that stop him from singing, dancing, and joking like any other villager would tonight.

…

Toriyama Street, Western Quadrant, Village Hidden in the Leaves
20:17 pm, Central Time

It was surprising how even in a festive city full of carousers intent on enjoying themselves as loudly as they could, nothing more than a few steps down a few secluded alleys and winding corners were necessary to find peace and quiet.

Tabibito walked through the shadows of the houses, the occasional flash from a firework exploding overhead being the only light he saw, the houses being all abandoned when their owners decided to leave for the festival.

Soon, the wooden walls to his right were replaced by one made of large pebbles fused with mortar. He followed it, the three fingers of his maimed hand trailing over the rough and uneven surface, and he blinked when he nearly stumbled over the lion statue of a guardian spirit, its teeth bared in a snarling roar.

"If I was any more wasted than I already am, big fella," the old traveller told it gravely, "then I might have just thought you were real. Shucks, really. Haven't seen a lion in years. Not since that last one tried to chew on my head."

He stepped around it, muttering the traditional prayer for begging permission to enter off the guardians, and carefully stepped over the stone threshold into the temple. No need to incur any misfortune than he had already experienced.

The moment he stepped inside, he was assaulted by the utter calm of the place.

It wasn't silence. Silence was the absence of all sound, the complete death of nature, the smothering of every breathing thing, and it was just as revolting to the living ear as the greatest noise. It made the hair on the neck of any beast with instinct rise up in warning, and shinobi quickly learned to fear silence as much as any man with a blade.

But even if it was quiet, Tabibito could still hear the world breathe around him here. The leaves of the dark trees rustled as birds flew about, their batting wings releasing small winds that the old master felt on his skin. Little beasts rustled in the undergrowth, satisfied that the intruder meant no harm. Frogs croaked in the ponds, unseen and yet trying to fill the wide expanse with their presence, all arrogance. A lizard hushed away from his feet as the old traveller stepped silently from one stone to the other, each one an island in the green moss that was now as dark as night now that the sun had set, the chain leading him onward to spirits-knows-where.

He passed a pond, its waters deep and silent, and saw even darker shapes hush away as he peered inside it. He frowned to himself, puzzled. It seemed the temple carps were wary of visitors. That was unusual.

He saw light flicker in the distance, cleaved into many shadows by a grove of bamboo, and he decided to follow the way. He passed an elegant temple gate meant to ward off ill-meaning spirits and welcome the well-meaning ones, and saw that it lacked the coat of paint it so obviously needed.

He finally reached the shrine, a large building whose tall, elegantly swept roof blocked out the stars and the crackling fireworks above. It was lavishly decorated, but it hadn't been well-maintained: paint peeled off, some decorations were snapped off, and deep blade marks and dents were scored into the façade. No light could be seen except for the single lantern that hung in the doorway, the orange light swinging faintly in the breeze and casting lurching shadows everywhere.

Tabibito couldn't help but wonder how such a large temple came to become so dilapidated. And come to think of it, he had seen neither monks, nor acolytes, nor worshippers, nor priests. Strange.

Definitely getting a creepy vibe from this place, the old traveller thought. He considered turning around, but shook his head, smirking. Sober enough to think of self-preservation, drunk enough to do something stupid all the same. Story of my life.

He walked up the worn steps, making no sound as he did so, and stepped inside with a small muttered prayer, not really knowing what to expect.

The inside of the shrine looked plain enough, if he was being honest with himself. The old traveller swept a look around, and saw the various wooden statues of the sages, guardian spirits, and gods arrayed along the wall. Much like their home, their colour had faded and their lustre had gone, the symbols and instruments held in their hands dulled and plain, but they still stared at him with their myriad expressions as he studied them: sad, contemplative, wrathful, solemn, benevolent, regal, cheerful, stern. He recognized some and not others.

Then he looked to the centre of the shrine, and spotted a group of four gleaming white paws and silvery claws, the dull metal winking at him.

Tabibito paused, then turned to look around and grabbed an empty lantern hung from a rod that was hidden in an alcove beside the door. The candle inside had just about enough wax left, and he lit it with half a hand seal and a whispered word. The flame flickered to life, and he raised it high above his head.

The statue of a fox as white as fresh snow rose up all the way to the ceiling, nine white tails with blood-red tips swirling around in patterns that suggested motion, yet remained unmoving. It sat on its hindquarters, tall and regal, with a long, sharp snout flowing towards elegant features and empty eyes, and its maw was stained with red and bared in a small snarl, revealing countless silver teeth.

Tabibito saw it and refused to flinch when the shadows cast by the lantern tried to make him think that the fox was stirring. He'd seen far worse things in his lifetime, and a simple statue wouldn't frighten him. But even if he lacked fear, he remembered something of respect.

Besides, she would never have forgiven him if he visited a shrine and never made an offering to its deity. She had always taken little things and rituals that he considered pointless very seriously. If only for the good luck it was meant to bring.

He leant the staff against a pillar and returned to the alcove, his fingers scrabbling in the darkness for something that all monks hid in such places. A moment later, he found a box of old incense. With another hand seal, a spark had lit three incense sticks, the calming smell of burning sandalwood filling the stale air. The old traveller carefully stuck them into the small ash basin placed before the statue, clapping his hands and deeply bowing thrice.

Tabibito stood up straight again, staring up at the statue of the white fox. He didn't really know what to say or think. He had lost his faith in the benevolence of the spirits a long time ago.

"Few are those who leave offerings here," a quiet voice spoke up.

Tabibito turned around to see an old man clothed in a monk's orange robes stand in the entrance of the temple. He was small, his bald head gleaming in the faint light, and he bore his great age well. Deep laughter lines crinkled his face, and when he smiled, Tabibito could see that he meant no one any harm.

"I did notice that when I came in," the old traveller said, squinting at him. "Such a big temple, but no one here to worship? No one leaving offerings? No priests, no monks to greet visitors? Seemed kinda weird."

The abbot of the temple—for it surely couldn't have been anyone else—walked forward, supporting himself on a cane, the regular clack of the wooden stick echoing eerily in the large room. He stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Tabibito, and he was quiet for a moment, considering the image of the fox above them.

"This used to be a great temple," he began slowly, old eyes clouded. "I still remember the day when I decided to end my wandering days and joined the serenity of this shrine. People gave the spirits and sages many offerings, left heartfelt pleas for happiness, success and safety, and we were happy to help them find peace and prosperity. And they thanked us for it! Dozens of acolytes came to learn at the feet of our masters, seeking the peace that had been denied to them outside of these walls, or tried to repent for the misdeeds they had wrought in the service of this village. And the White Fox watched it all and blessed our work.

"It couldn't last." The abbot sighed, and a wry smile played around the old man's mouth. "All things must end, I suppose, but even I was surprised by how quickly it happened."

"Let me guess," Tabibito muttered, glancing at the swirling white tails. "Did it involve a mountain-sized fox monster with an appetite for large-scale landscaping and mass murder? Because I would never have guessed that venerating a fox might have gotten you into trouble."

"…After that fateful night seven years ago," the abbot began slowly, "many lost their faith. Not without reason, I suppose. It still hurt to see fewer and fewer visitors leaving offerings and asking for our guidance and blessings. Many of our monks lost their faith after the horrors they witnessed, returning to their former lives outside the temple, while others took to wandering the lands to find a new purpose." The elderly monk chuckled. "No longer did youngsters or tired men seek to dedicate themselves to the life of an acolyte, and when we went outside to give out blessings and beg for our food, the villagers watched us with disdainful eyes, avoiding us or spitting on us as we passed. A few foolhardy souls even vandalized the shrine and tried to burn it down. I'll admit that I've rarely been happier to see an Uchiha appear as I was that night, but the damage was already done."

The old abbot breathed out a sigh, slumping in on himself, and glanced at the dreary inside of the temple. "And now the temple gathers dust and falls into disrepair, with only me and a few old souls to watch as it is forgotten."

"…What about you?" Tabibito asked after a long moment. "Did you ever lose your faith?"

"No, no." The abbot tapped his cane on the floor, smiling. "Gods and spirits are a fact of life and part of this beautiful world we inhabit; they cannot be denied by a mere man like me." He cackled gleefully. "And besides, I'm a very old man. I'm allowed to be stubborn and set in my ways, no?"

The old traveller grinned back. "I can certainly agree with that."

The abbot's face grew serious again, and he considered Tabibito with solemn eyes. "The spirits have been kind to me, you know. A long life, many friends, a purpose, and the gift of teaching those who will wander this land after I am long gone. Throwing all that away because of one tragedy would mean that I have wasted my life, that I have accomplished nothing."

"Heh." Tabibito reached into his pouch, drawing out another saké bottle. He popped the cork, thoughtfully eyeing the likeness of the fox spirit. "I guess I can understand that feeling, too."

"And what about you? Why did you come here, of all places?"

The old musician chuckled and took a swig. "…Not out of faith, that's for certain." He tapped his fingers on the bottle. "I'm not sure if I ever had any, but if I did, I must have lost it a long time ago."

"So why come here?"

It was a simple question, but Tabibito struggled with the answer. "…I have done things. Horrible, terrible things, things I will never speak of again because I know they will haunt me. I am beyond redemption or forgiveness."

The abbot chuckled. "Aren't we all? But why come here, then?"

Tabibito thought about it. "For someone else. He needs help, more than I can give him."

"Many a man's faith was sparked by compassion."

"Maybe. Don't think it's gonna happen to me, though. Bit late for that."

"Many years ago, I said the exact same thing, and someone convinced me otherwise. I have never regretted to stop to listen to the stranger that invited me to think of redemption."

Tabibito thought of Naruto, his infectious happiness and his whiskered smile. "Perhaps I'll find my own path to redemption."

The two old men stood in silence, looking up at the statue of the fox with only the flickering shadows the lantern cast on the wall for company.

"I have to go. Engagements to keep, and all that rot." Tabibito bowed deeply to the abbot. "Thanks you for your words."

The abbot nodded at him, smiling wryly. "I ought to thank you, youngster. It has been a long time since I talked to someone from beyond these walls."

The traveller smirked and turned around to leave, briskly walking away. "Have a good festival, old man. Have a quiet night."

"Do you know what the White Fox represents?"

Tabibito reached the door and stopped, but didn't turn around.

"White fur. Purity of being, purity of purpose. And wisdom—wisdom to guide man, wisdom to make him improve himself, wisdom to raise him above the simple-mindedness of mere animals."

Something was dredged from Tabibito's memory. "And also the colour of death and mourning."

"True," the abbot confirmed, the cane tapping on the floor. "Every coin has two sides."

The elder paused, seemingly mulling over his words, and continued evenly.

"…Tails and a maw, stained with blood. Rage, anger, fury, wrath; the whole measure descending on the world in a cataclysmic judgment, destroying everything in its path. A mindless, destructive rampage, burning the world to ash, to cleanse it—and to then create it anew. Destroyer and creator, immortal and everlasting."

"…the spirit of change," Tabibito finished, the words achingly familiar to him.

"I thought you had no faith?" the abbot spoke, and Tabibito could hear his amused smile.

The old traveller snorted. "I still don't. My wife had faith. It did her no good."

"Perhaps it gave her solace. Peace."

"Well, it sure as hell was more than I could ever give her." Tabibito leant against the doorway, letting out a rattling sigh. "Thank you."

"…You will always be welcome here. Both you and your student."

Tabibito smirked wryly to himself and left with a last glance over his shoulder, leaving the abbot alone with the silent statue of the white fox, the flickering shadows making his bloodied maw look like a smile.

…

"We'll give you our present first, if you don't mind," Shizuka told Naruto. The girl couldn't help but giggle when the whiskered little boy excitedly jumped up and down, asking "What is it? What is it?" with wide blue eyes.

"Sheesh," Mayumi muttered with a weary sigh, rolling her eyes. "You'd think you're getting crowned the Emperor of Fire Country, from the way you're getting all wound up…"

"Oh hush, you," Shizuka chided her, frowning. "Don't make him wait, it's mean!"

"Fine, fine." Mayumi reached under the table and got out a long, bulging wooden case. She flipped open the lid, revealing a stringed instrument with a long neck.

Naruto stared at his present, and then at the two courtesans that had been his older sisters in all but name. It was blindingly obvious from the craftsmanship that this gift had been expensive, even to him. He felt a lump grow in his throat, and swallowed. "How did you…"

"We put our tips of the last few months together," Shizuka said, the brunette smiling kindly at him. She lifted the instrument from its case, and the polished wood gleamed a dark red in the light of the candles and lanterns. "It's made from redwood found in Konoha's forests. Sturdily built; it'll last you a long time. You'll always have a piece of your home around with you."

"Also, the old man always makes you practice on that old mandolin that sound like a litter of cats yowling," Mayumi said under her breath. "We all figured giving you a decent instrument might change that."

"Thank you, Shizuka-nee-san, Mayumi-nee-san!" Naruto ran around the table to tackle them both, hugging them tightly. "I'll always treasure it, I promise! I'll become the greatest musician ever! You'll be proud of me, I swear!"

"First he wants to be Hokage, now a musician," Hiashi muttered. "How is he ever going to make it all work?"

"Pure bullheadedness?" Hōshi suggested.

"Most likely. Heaven help us all."

Mayumi wrenched the struggling orange-clad ball of energy from her, and peered at him intently with storm-grey eyes. "No matter what happens, never forget where you come from, Naruto." She smiled faintly at him, kissing his forehead. "The world won't let you, in any case."

Shizuka tweaked his cheek, smiling. "And we certainly won't, little one."

Naruto hugged them both again.

…

Konoha General Hospital, Western Quadrant, Village Hidden in the Leaves
21:22 pm, Central Time

"Alright, Seruhiko-san, if you could move that wrist counter-clockwise, please…"

There was a hiss of pain and a snarl. "Sunovawhore!"

"I can assure you that my mother never prostituted herself. Clockwise now, please." Doctor Kiyoshi studied the wrist held in his palm carefully through his gold-rimmed glasses. The fingers quivered, but didn't move as intended. "Hmm. It seems that the bones haven't fused as well as we thought. Troubling."

The middle-aged chūnin shot him a worried look. "Does that mean I'm still barred from missions, sensei?"

"Unfortunately so, yes." Doctor Kiyoshi let the hand drop, picking up a pad and pen. "Don't lift anything heavier than a glass of water for a few more weeks, and no training as well. Avoid any sudden shocks. If the joint doesn't regain its mobility, we'll either have to break it for realignment or take you off active duty altogether."

The shinobi sighed, closing his eyes in frustration. "Damn it."

"Cheer up! Your chances aren't that bad. I've seen worse." Kiyoshi smiled, setting down his signature on the therapy plan with a flourish. "At least you're getting some Rn'R and half your pay. You won't starve."

"The kids will be happy to see me, I guess." The chūnin shrugged, looking rather lost. "Not sure about the wife. We haven't really spoken in months."

"Take some time off with her, then. Maybe visit a restaurant, or see a movie. I'm sure she'd appreciate knowing that you care about her."

The chūnin smiled as rolled his sleeve back down. "Alright, sensei, I'll do that. Thanks a lot."

"You're welcome, young man. And remember, nothing heavier than a glass of water!"

The Hokage's personal physician and director of the Konoha General Hospital stepped out of the room, nodded at a passing nurse, and swiftly walked over to the elevator. The doors dinged open on the ground floor a minute later, and he quickly walked through the crowded area to the receptionist's desk.

"Excuse me, miss, did Yamasaki-sensei from emergency medicine want to speak to me?"

The young woman looked up at him and gave him an amiable smile. "He did, sensei. He wanted to know if you'd be available in the OR later tonight; he's expecting lots of patients—"

"—having had an unfortunate run-in with fireworks, I know. Same thing every year, I suppose." Doctor Kiyoshi checked his watch. "Would after eleven pm be fine?"

The young woman picked up the phone, tapping an internal number. "That'd be fine! I'm sure he'll appreciate it."

The front doors to the hospital were slammed open as if by a sudden gust of wind, and Doctor Kiyoshi whirled around to see two dozen uniformed MPs storm in, weapons drawn and eyes swirling blood red.

"Police! Nobody leave the room!"

"On second thought," Kiyoshi said over his shoulder to the stunned girl, drawing back his sleeves as chaos erupted around them, "tell Yamasaki-sensei I might be a tad late."

…

"Right, little fella," Hōshi growled. "My turn."

He reached for his belt and removed a leather sheathe, the black handle of a large knife in evidence. Naruto gave the scarred brothel owner an uncertain smile, and Hōshi laughed out loud, a sound like boots crunching on gravel.

"No need to worry, little lad," he said in a tone he probably thought was reassuring, but his scarred grimace—a smile, apparently—didn't exactly help matters. "I'm not gonna stab ye with it. If you learn how to use it, you'll be the one doing the stabbing. Com'ere."

Naruto approached warily, and Hōshi drew the blade with a sharp tug. It was easily a foot long and darkened steel. One of its edges looked wickedly sharp, while the other was serrated like a hacksaw.

"This is what the peasants up north in Lightning Country call a hori-hori," the brothel owner explained as he showed Naruto the correct grip. "One of them Cloud ninja bastards tried to kill me with one just like this during the war, but it didn't help him much. Still, I liked that blade, so I had a friend make one for ye. See that tip, and the different edges?"

He ran a finger along the double-edged point and edges of the blade, drawing a drop of blood. He carelessly flicked it away. "You can stab and slash with it, but it's as much a tool as a weapon. And if you ever manage to learn that crazy elemental technique the old man's showing ye, well… I think you'll find this little dear useful. Chakra-conducting steel, see."

Naruto peered up at him, uncertain, and then bowed deeply. "Thank you very much, Ichirai-san."

Hōshi gave him a twisted grin that made his scars stretch, and opened his arms. "Aw, little man, where's my hug?"

Naruto smiled back sheepishly, carefully put down the surprisingly heavy knife, and wrapped the older man in a brief, yet fierce hug while the others chuckled. "Thanks a lot, Hōshi-san."

"My pleasure, kid. Stick a few bandits with it for me, why don't ye?"

Naruto nodded, looking uncertainly at the wicked-looking edge. He frowned, puzzled, and looked at the brothel owner. "…Hōshi-san, what does hori-hori mean?"

Hōshi snickered into his cup of wine, his grin widening. "'Weeding knife'. Best tool for a gardener of the Leaf like yourself, don'tcha think? Rip out all the weeds, make the buds flower and the roots grow strong."

As the man continued to guffaw, Naruto threw an uneasy look at his new gift, and quickly stowed it in his belt. Looking at that edge and imaging it getting buried in someone's flesh made him feel more uneasy than he cared to admit.

…

Golden Leaf Merchant Bank, Northern Quadrant, Village Hidden in the Leaves
20:52 pm, Central Time

Located in the heart of the village's mercantile district and close to the warehouses of the many, many trade associations and corporations that came to peddle their wares in Konoha and to hire the services of its shinobi, the Golden Leaf Merchant Bank was the largest and most wealthy bank in all of Konoha. They happily traded in loans, notarial services, safety deposits, money transfers, and all the other little things that made an economy turn smoothly.

It also invested the money the village's mercenaries earned in the world beyond the village's walls, earning great returns along the way—the bank had long ago become an essential part of the hidden village's symbiosis with Fire Country itself, one of the major reasons for Konoha's lasting wealth and influence, and a source of pride for the village's common citizenry.

The bankers liked to show off their wealth and importance with a five-story building the size of a daimyo's palace, a large entrance hall with its ceiling decorated with patterns of inlaid silver showing the journeys of the spirits and supported by carved columns of dark wood, and countless well-dressed tellers and clerks manning counters of polished mahogany.

They looked up from their paperwork—there was almost no business tonight because of the festival; a good time to catch up on the mountain of required memos and reports that had accumulated over the previous months—and stared as the front doors, fifteen feet high and reinforced with steel, were slammed wide open as if kicked.

A group of armed men wearing chūnin vests and police armbands stormed in, fanning out quickly. "Gentlemen!" the man at their head called out cheerfully, startling the clerks left in the hall. His laugh never reached his eyes. "Someone heard that all you poor fellas were stuck inside during the festival, and they thought to cure your boredom! We are tonight's entertainment!"

The clerks and tellers scrabbled to their feet, and some protests were heard. Kunai were drawn, and the panicked murmurs only increased. The lead Uchiha ignored them, palming a ball the size of an orange. "How about we start with some fireworks?!"

He threw it up in the air, where it exploded with a thunderous roar, covering the entire room with crackling sparks and blinding light. The bank's employees ducked their heads, screaming and swearing, and scrambled to get away to the emergency corridors to escape.

Soon, the hall was empty of nothing but burning paper, smoke, and the bank's chūnin guard bursting out of their guard room to face the Uchiha. The bank's director, his large gut wobbling and dressed only in fine silk, waddled towards the commotion.

"What in the name of all spirits above and below is the meaning of this!?"

The lead Uchiha planted his feet, raising an eyebrow him. "You the boss around here?"

"How dare you address me like tha—"

"Sounds like you are." The clansman drew himself up, and his face grew stern. "As outlined by paragraph twenty-eight, section B-II of the Third Hokage's Martial Emergency Act and Council-approved protocol, I am hereby taking control of this bank and its assets for the duration of the aforementioned emergency."

"Now, hold on a min—"

The Uchiha pointed at the bank's chūnin guards, who looked distinctly nervous now. "You lot are under my command now. Lock down all the exits and entrances and collar all the employees. Nobody enters or leaves without my say-so. You, fat man! Show me where you've stored the gold!"

The bank director paled as the policemen and guards hurried off. "You cannot possibly mean to—"

The Uchiha drew a kunai, eyeing the director with a dangerous eye. "I can and I will. Where is the gold?"

Less well known, The Golden Leaf Merchant Bank had also been entrusted with the control of the village's bullion deposits as a sign of the Hokage's good faith towards the civilian population of the village. It was all safely guarded in the underground vaults of the bank and protected by a detachment of Konoha's shinobi.

Who were now conspicuously absent doing something else.

The bank director swallowed nervously, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "No one has invoked the Emergency Act in years."

"Well, they have now."

"What happened?"

The Uchiha's dark eyes narrowed in distaste, but he answered anyway. "The Hokage has been attacked. It's unclear if he'll live."

"Spirits above and below! Who could have possibly done this?!"

"Someone with a lot of reach and power, obviously." The Uchiha stepped close in an instant, and dark eyes bled into red ones as he grabbed the director by the collar, lifting him off the floor with one hand. "Now. Where. Is. The. Gold?!"

There was no more resistance after that.

…

Hiashi coughed into his sleeve. "Now, Hinata, I suppose it would be your turn?"

The little girl started when all eyes on the table turned to her, and she looked down, nervously clamping her fingers together. "Umm…"

"Hey, Hinata-chan, don't worry!" Naruto said loudly, beaming at her. "You already helped me a lot of stuff during our training, and I've gotten much better because of it! That's the best present you could have given me!"

Hinata shrank in on herself, flushing, but she finally drew herself up and looked her friend in the eye. "You helped me with many things as well, Naruto-kun. I owe you a lot. And I do have something for you."

She stood up, reached into her sleeve, and took out a wooden cylinder. She presented it to Naruto with a little bow, blushing a deep red. Naruto took it, frowning perplexedly as he examined the plain container and shook it, much to Hinata's quiet horror.

Hiashi sighed deeply. "You have to open it, Uzumaki-san. Twist off the top half, why don't you?"

"Whoops, my bad. Lessee, how does this work… Ah, there you go!"

The cylinder popped open, and a scroll tumbled out onto the table. Naruto recognized the fine paper from his lessons with Hiashi and spread it open carefully. He blinked and stared.

It was a painting. A beautiful tree took up most up from it, flowing green leaves surrounding a wide trunk of rough, dark bark. It was exquisitely detailed, but that wasn't what caught Naruto's eye.

Under the tree was a group of people. Leaning against the trunk sat a likeness of Uncle Tabi, his rice hat drawn over his eyes as he rested, his wizened hands poised on the strings of his lute. He was smiling faintly at the figure of a small blond boy who was sitting cross-legged in the tree's shade, cheerfully plucking away on a shabby lute of his own, his whiskered face grinning happily.

Arranged around them sat a few others: a scarred, smiling teenager in a chūnin vest wearing his unruly brown hair in a ponytail; a stern-faced man in loose, flowing robes sitting in the traditional manner with his hands on his knees, with his long black hair drawn away from his pale eyes.

And between them sat a pale-eyed little girl that Naruto knew all too well. She was smiling as well, more happily than he had ever seen her before.

Naruto glanced at the side of the picture and saw an inscription written down the length of the painting in beautiful calligraphy.

Play, child of autumn
Let the cold wind guide your way
But remember those warm times
When the leaves began to turn
And we learned underneath those old wise trees
Hidden in the leaves.

Naruto blinked again, and looked up to see Hinata smile at him, looking uncertain. He opened his mouth, and quickly shut it again.

Hinata's face fell, but only then did he remember what Hiashi had taught him in their lessons. He stood up and bowed deeply from the waist, remembering the phrases that Hiashi had made him repeat dozens of times until he got the inflection of every last syllable right. "This one thanks you very much for your generous gift, Hyūga-san. It will be treasured."

He looked back up, his face grave. He was sure that he had gotten the traditional answer right, just like Hiashi had taught him. Still, for some reason, Hinata looked unhappy as she bowed in return, quietly saying that it was only a small thing to be gifted.

So Naruto, impulsive as he was, decided to make her smile by jumping to his feet, leaping over the table, and giving her a bonecracking hug. "Thanks a lot, Hinata-chan! I really do like it, you know!"

Only then did Hinata smile again, though she was flushing a furious red and squeaking at him to put her down. Naruto ignored her, lifting her off her feet and twirling her around in the air, laughing. Hiashi watched with a disapproving look and opened his mouth to speak, but then remembered who had made his daughter smile again.

He snapped his mouth shut, sighing in exasperation, and reached for his cup of wine, all the while ignoring Hōshi's scarred grin and knowing look.

…

Hokage Tower, Centre, Village Hidden in the Leaves
20:39 pm, Central Time

Setsuna Uchiha liked dramatic entrances.

There was nothing quite like smashing into your opponents from an angle they hadn't considered, hadn't expected, hadn't planned for, and then watching their gobsmacked expressions of terror, their sudden fear and panic as they realized they had only mere moments left to live, and that there was absolutely nothing they could do about it.

That feeling of absolute, glorious superiority in those few, percious moments was superior to anything else Setsuna Uchiha had ever experienced, whether it was drinking, sparring, fighting or bedding a woman, willing or unwilling. Nothing could compare.

So when he marched into the Hokage Tower, slammed his hands down onto the head receptionist's desk, looked her in the eye and said, with as deathly serious an expression as he could manage, "The Hokage has been attacked by an unknown force and is currently missing. As of now, Code Hotel-Alpha-Niner is in effect," — yes, Setsuna Uchiha could admit to himself that this charade his clan head had ordered shot a certain thrill through his veins, even if there was no killing involved.

As the entire tower exploded into activity, with clerks, receptionists, and shinobi moving to send out response teams and lock down the Hokage Tower, scurrying around like spooked rabbits, Setsuna Uchiha had to work very hard to conceal his bloodthirsty grin.

Oh, how he loved that feeling.

Well, he thought idly as he sent his clansmen to spread out through the Tower, perhaps I'll get to kill someone later tonight after all.

…

Hiashi coughed loudly, getting everyone's attention. Naruto stopped twirling Hinata around and turned to look at her father, looking rather confused.

"I have a present for you as well," Hiashi said, smirking in a way that Naruto knew very well from training. He may not have been able to read body language like the Hyūga could, but he'd quickly learned that that little smirk always promised a lot of pain. "Catch."

Steel flashed, and Naruto ducked with a yelp as something sharp and pointed sailed through the air where his throat had been just a moment ago. Without even standing up, Hiashi's arms and hands moved, each twitch of his fingers accompanied by a knife thrown at dangerous speeds.

Naruto dodged admirably, twisting his body around like a contortionist, leaping into the air and bouncing off the walls. Hiashi raised an eyebrow and adjusted his aim a bit.

Once he had run out of knives, he raised his other eyebrow as he looked upwards. "Impressive."

Naruto clung to the ceiling like a heretofore undiscovered species of orange sloth (one that also bled from a quite a few cuts), glowering down at him with narrowed eyes. "…Are you trying to teach me something, or did you finally snap after all this time?"

"Neither." Hiashi picked up his cup of wine, smirking. "Those knives are my present to you, Uzumaki-san. They're more suitable for throwing than the kunai we usually use, and they're lighter and easier concealed. Use them well."

"This is a lesson about something," Naruto muttered as he scurried around the room, pulling the throwing knives out of the woodwork. "I just need to figure out what it's about…"

"You'll understand when you're older, Uzumaki-san, I'm sure."

"Oi, don't patronize me!"

Hinata shot her father a confused look. Hiashi sipped at his cup of wine, not changing his expression. They would understand someday, like the adults and teenagers around them did as they watched the scene in amusement, Iruka having long ago let his head drop into his palm with an expression of exasperated suffering while Mizuki bit his fist to stop himself from laughing.

He would do it again. A father's ancient prerogative to deter suitors was all that he would have left once his little girl grew up, after all.

"You are gonna pay for the scratches to my woodwork, right?" Hōshi asked.

Hiashi sighed and reached for the tankard of wine. He'd need a bit more to get through the evening.

…

Outside the Uchiha District, Southern Quadrant, Village Hidden in the Leaves
20:42 pm, Central Time

Ever since the founding of the village, there was a street known as the Red Fan Street. It was memorable solely because this was the last street that demarcated the Uchiha District from the rest of the village.

An old man with one arm wrapped in his robe and the other clutching a cane walked through the near-empty street, ignoring the few passersby that passed him. In a civilian village, the loss of an arm, the bandages wrapped around his eyes, and his crippled walk may have gotten more attention, and perhaps even some sympathy. Here in Konoha, these sights were commonplace to civilians and shinobi alike, and no one shot him a second glance. He preferred it that way.

The old man walked through the quiet street, confident that no one would recognize him. He had kept a low profile all his life, after all—even if it involved killing all the witnesses that ever realized his importance to the hidden village. No loose lips, no loose ends.

He stepped into a shadowed doorway, drumming his fingers on the rough wooden door. It was opened a crack and a mask peered at him. Danzō stepped through, pushing the masked and armoured child behind the door out of the way.

A few steps later, he found himself in a lightless living room, and tapped his cane thrice. A candle was lit, and the faint flame revealed half a dozen men and women of various ages wearing grey armour, colourless cloaks that shifted in the light, and weapons on their backs and belts. They were kneeling, their masked heads bowed.

"Well, my children," Danzō said quietly, leaning on his cane, "it seems that we must carry out our duty tonight, as we have always done. Are the cells all in position?"

One of the masked figures raised its head. "They are, sir. We only await your signal."

"And you all know your tasks?"

"We have been thoroughly briefed," another—a young girl's voice—spoke up, soft and plain and strangely bland. "Our objectives are clear."

"Good. You are aware that your task is more specific than that of the other cells?"

A quiet chorus of "Yes, sir," answered him in eerie synchronicity.

Danzō nodded, satisfied, his one eye gleaming with feverish determination. "Then let us tear out this cancerous weed by the root itself. Go."

The candle flickered as if struck by a sudden breeze, and when the light returned, Danzō Shimura was alone.

…

Hokage Tower, Centre, Village Hidden in the Leaves
21:28 pm, Central Time

Fugaku Uchiha walked towards the Hokage Tower, noting that the entire building had been locked down. A good sign, he thought as he gave the correct responses to the ANBU squad's challenges. Setsuna has already passed through.

The doors were reluctantly opened, and Fugaku and his squad of clansmen—all handpicked for their loyalty—entered the building. Setsuna awaited them on the other side, the side of his face not concealed by that ugly metal faceguard twisted in a faint scowl.

"Fugaku-sama," he said quietly as they fell in step. "The Advisory Council is awaiting you in a conference room on the third floor."

"All of them?"

Setsuna scoffed. "No. Only the crone and the four-eyes managed to make it here through the communications blackout and the lockdown. No civilians."

Fugaku nodded as they climbed the stairs. "Good. The plan is proceeding well, then?"

"We've heard no reports to the contrary. All the garrisons have reported in, as planned. Yakumi can be subtle when he wants to be. Kaki says the bank is under our control."

"What about the hospital?"

"We haven't heard from them yet, but I'm not worried. It's filled with civilians, wounded, and bench-sitters you can barely call shinobi. We sent two squads down there; they should be fine." Setsuna shot him an askance look. "I'm still not sure if you should have trusted those boys. Their part of the plan is too big for their boots."

"I heard your objections the first time, and all the times after that," Fugaku hissed quietly, his dark eyes glaring at his cousin. "But no one else in our clan would be able to do it; neither you, nor me! So do your part and trust them to do theirs!"

Setsuna's dark eyes flashed murderously at him, but he bowed his head as they reached the doors of the conference room. "As you wish, Fugaku-sama."

The head of the Uchiha clan took a deep breath, sighed, and schooled his face into an expression of neutrality. The moment he stepped through, Koharu whirled around to face him. "Fugaku Uchiha! What on earth is the meaning of this?!"

"I would like to know as well," Homura said, his voice far calmer, but his dark eyes narrowed behind his glasses as he folded his arms inside his sleeves. "The Golden Leaf Merchant Bank, the hospital, the Tower and its administrative offices have all been overrun with your men, and your MP squads have taken up station at key stations within the city. This is most worrying."

Fugaku feigned a frown. "Where is Shikaku Nara?"

Koharu frowned, and glanced at the ANBU soldier standing guard in the room. The man shrugged. "We tried to contact him, as per protocol, but he wasn't at the Nara compound."

Fugaku felt relief course through him. Itachi and Shisui were doing their part of the plan, just as planned. Danzō Shimura wasn't here, as expected, but it was common knowledge amongst the initiated that he and his former teammate had a falling out recently. The old cripple was irrelevant to the overall plan and could be dealt with later.

This will work, Fugaku thought triumphantly, taking great care that none of his true feelings showed on his face. This will work!

"Is this room secure from eavesdroppers?" he asked the ANBU soldier standing in the room.

"Yes, Fugaku-dono, it is."

"Lock it down, then." The ANBU soldier made a series of hand seals, and faint symbols of light — chakra imbued in seal matrices — flashed briefly on the walls before dimming down to nothingness.

Fugaku turned to face the two closest advisors of the Hokage. "Esteemed councillors," he began slowly, "we have a dire situation. Thirty-five minutes ago, the Hokage's Residence was attacked by unknown assailants. The bodyguards were overwhelmed, and Hokage-sama was injured. He was able to drive them off, however."

"And?" Homura prompted, frowning.

"Hokage-sama gave chase to the assailants and then… disappeared. We have been unable to ascertain his location since."

Koharu swore loudly. "You're telling me an unknown group powerful enough to hurt the Sandaime Hokage has managed to covertly infiltrate the village, has wounded him in his home, and that you can't find him?!"

Fugaku tried to look reasonably abashed. "Yes, esteemed councilor."

"Hang it all, he's our Kage! He's not something you can just lose like spare change!"

"Now, now, Koharu-chan," Homura said sharply. "I'm sure Fugaku-dono and his colleagues are doing his best to track him down. But remember that this is Hiruzen we're talking about. If that man decided to visit the moon, he'd invent a jutsu to do it. Disappearing like that from our midst without a trace is not the most difficult thing he has done in his life."

Homura muttered something under her breath about something involving hot springs and 'reconnaissance, my ass!', frowning all the while. "And he has gotten older and weaker in the last twenty years as well… Bah!" She took a deep breath and peered at Fugaku. "What now, then? We have no commander-in-chief. We cannot allow uncertainty in the chain of command in a time of crisis; it would be disastrous if foreign villages took advantage."

Homura frowned, stroking the thin grey beard on his chin. "Hokage-sama cannot be contacted, his second-in-command has not answered our call, and the other corps-level commanders are all out of the village because of our troubles with Earth and Lightning. That leaves…"

The head of the Uchiha clan nodded sharply. "The head of the Military Police is the next one in line."

The two councillors frowned, but then nodded slowly in agreement, as Fugaku knew they would. They respected the laws and customs of Konoha far too much to stand against the written law handed down by the First Hokage himself. The plan was coming together.

"You must discharge your duties as head of the Military Police," Homura said quietly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "You cannot hold two corps-level commands at once."

"I nominate Setsuna Uchiha."

"Accepted," Koharu threw in, the old woman drawing herself up to her full height. Her voice grew sterner and even more commanding. "Fugaku Uchiha, as direct representatives of the Hokage's Advisory Council and his office, do you accept the title, duties, and responsibilities of Acting Hokage until a time when we can re-establish contact with the rightful holder of the title and its offices, or until the assembled Jōnin Council elects another to take your post?"

Fugaku stood up straight, his voice strong and unwavering. "I hereby accept the title, duties, and responsibilities of Acting Hokage until a time when we can re-establish contact with the rightful holder of the title and its offices, or until the assembled Jōnin Council elects another to do my duties."

"Swear it."

"I swear this by the name of my forefathers and by the Will of Fire."

"We accept your vow and oath… Hokage-sama," Homura said after a moment, sighing. He wrung his hands. "Now, what countermeasures do we need to organize?"

A bit of well-placed violence, a few words, and an oath never intended to be kept.

That was all it took.

…

"Well, my present seems pretty boring when compared to all the ones you already got…" Iruka said with an awkward laugh.

"Oh, come on, Iruka-nii! I didn't expect any presents, so anything you want to give me would be totally cool!" Naruto scrunched up his face in distaste. "Except history books. History's boring as hell."

"Naruto, how many times have I told you how import—Ow! Hey!"

"Sorry," Mizuki said with a pleasant smile as Iruka rubbed the smarting back of his head. "My hand must have slipped. I have no idea how it happened."

"Ha, ha, very funny," Iruka muttered, glaring at him. He turned back to Naruto and tried to smile as if nothing had happened, though a flush creeped up the back of his neck as Shizuka and Mayumi giggled at him. "Seriously, Naruto… It's not all that cool, but I think you'll like it anyway." He picked up a scroll and unsealed it with a hand seal. "Here."

It was a solidly made equipment belt with several pouches and compartments for easy and handy storage during travel. When Naruto carefully opened the (surprisingly heavy) pouches, he found them filled with shuriken, senbon, kunai (all of good quality), a few empty scrolls that only waited to store heavy equipment, a bundle of explosive tags, two loops of always-useful chakra-conducting wire, and enough storage space for any other knickknacks he might need.

"That was my idea," Mizuki put in, smiling as Naruto looked up at them. "We figured that since you've been a true ninja for a while now, some real equipment—you know, the kind we use on missions—would be a good present. And Iruka was all for making it useful and educational, so—"

Naruto tackled them both in a hug and drove them to the ground, chattering happily. "Thankyouthankyouthankyou! This is totally awesome, Iruki-nii, Mizuki-san!" He leapt back and put on the belt, standing proudly with his hands on his hips. "See, I look like a real ninja now!"

At that point, the belt decided to fall to the ground with a clatter, since Naruto was only seven. Laughter sounded out around the table, and Hōshi grinned. "You'll grow into it, kiddo; don't worry. Just loop it round a bit, then it oughta stay on your pants."

"Totally not funny, you guys," the whiskered child groused as he awkwardly rearranged the belt around his trousers. "Man, this is embarrassing."

"Not any more embarrassing than you just being your usual self, though," Masaru muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes. "The phrase 'bull in a china shop' comes to mind… What?"

"Sorry, Masaru," Naruto said sheepishly. "I just sort of forgot you were here, too."

"…I live right next door to you. We've known each other for more than a year. And I was sitting here at the table along with everyone else. You invited me."

"I know, I know! But in my defence, you're really quiet and unassuming! It's really hard to pick you out of the background! Almost like a real ninja, really!"

"In other words, no one knows me or cares who I am. What a joyful, joyful day." Masaru shook his head morosely. "Well, I still got you something."

"Really? What?"

"Got some quality ramen for everyone from Ichiraku's. How's that sound?"

Naruto's blue eyes lit up happily. "Masaru! You know me far better than I know you!"

"Cool, that's nice… Oi, no hugs, I don't need a hug—Oww! Damn it all, get off; you're choking the life outta me!"

"Whoops," Naruto said, stepping back with a sheepish grin. "Sorry, Masaru."

"Seriously," the Dragon's faithful employee hacked out, coughing all the while. "How can a little shrimp like you be so freaking strong? You shinobi are all crazy inhuman weirdoes, I tell you..."

"Crazy, inhuman weirdoes who have you decidedly surrounded," Hōshi added helpfully.

"Don't remind me," the young man grumbled, getting to his feet. "I'll go see if the kitchens have got that ramen ready for dinner, alright? Oh, and happy birthday, kid. Please don't get on my nerves as much as usual, okay?"

"I'll try!"

"Don't make promises you can't keep…"

Masaru walked away, a bit ungainly on his feet from the wine, and disappeared through a door behind the bar, calling for the cook.

"…Well," Hiashi said after a moment, filling his cup of wine again, "I guess there is only one thing left for us to do."

"Getting absolutely shitfaced?" Hōshi guessed, smirking.

"Not how I would have put it, and not what I was referring to." The heir to the Hyūga clan raised his cup. "To Naruto Uzumaki. May he live a long and prosperous life, and may he do his name proud. Happy birthday, child."

And as everybody raised their cups and glasses to cheerfully toast him and wish him a happy birthday, Naruto was quite sure that in this moment, surrounded by his friends—no, not just friends; these people had become as good as family to him—he was the happiest seven-year old in the entire world.

Some shouts and whispers were heard from outside, even over the din of the festival, but Naruto ignored them in favour of thanking everyone. But then he noticed that all eyes around the table had fallen on the entrance to the Dancing Dragon, his friends' smiles having disappeared. All conversations in the room had stopped.

"Naruto Uzumaki?"

He turned around. A group of men had entered the Dancing Dragon in near silence, so quietly that he had never heard them coming, which was unusual. As he watched, more and more of them filed in. They all wore headbands of the Leaf, the flak jacket common to all Konoha chūnin, the armband of the Military Police—Naruto had long ago learned to avoid those guys; they weren't too friendly—and they were all armed to the teeth.

They were also all staring at him, the entire dozen of them.

Naruto shuffled his feet, smiling uncertainly. "Uh… yeah? Someone say my name?"

An older man with ash-grey hair nodded. "It's definitely him."

A younger man with shorter, dull black hair standing next to him shifted his feet. "Not one of his clones, then?"

"Definitely him." The older man's squinting eyes scrunched up in distaste. "You can nearly smell the demon on him."

"Uh, hey," Naruto spoke up. "Not that I don't want to interrupt your conversation or anything, but you mind telling me what this is all about?"

"Naruto Uzumaki," another man with shoulder-length black hair spoke, his cruel dark eyes scrutinizing him intently.

"Yeah?"

"By orders of the Hokage, we are here to take you into protective custody. Please come with us."

…

Red Light District, Eastern Quadrant, Village Hidden in the Leaves
21:33 pm, Central Time

Hunched on the roof of the building opposite the brothel known as the Dancing Dragon, the man wearing a swirling orange mask watched the brewing commotion inside with amused interest.

"Well, well," he muttered, the single red eye visible through his mask gleaming brightly. He sat down to watch, popping the cork on his bottle of saké and making himself comfortable as things unfolded across the street. "This should be very, very interesting."

…

The original manga series of Naruto was written and drawn by Masashi Kishimoto, originally published by Shueisha in 1997, and is still ongoing at the time of writing (May 2012) after sixty-four published volumes and two different anime adaptations: one simply titled Naruto by Studio Perrot that premiered in October 2002 and ended in February 2007, and its sequel Naruto: Shipuuden (Naruto: Hurricane Chronicles) by the same studio that premiered in February 2008 and is still ongoing at the time of writing. Various tie-in works like novels, video games, original video animations, and a series of theatrical movies have been published to date.

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