A/N: *head meets desk*

Damnit. I'm a sucker for a good story concept.

Going with the "Embers" rule once again. If folks don't like this, it'll be deleted very quickly.

As if things couldn't get any worse, my car's broken down, the infection's spread to my chest and there's a high chance of me having COVID. Yeah, its not looking good. Still no word from my team. I had hoped to hear back from them now...but I'm worried the pandemic might've gotten them. Might as well keep writing. After all, without this, what am I? Suppose I'm rambling...

The best way to describe Naruto in this story...hmm. Ever heard of the Mandalorian?

Honestly, I'd be surprised if you haven't...

"I beg of you, find the Girl. She's more powerful than she knows."

~?

Hearts of Stone

Stone is silent.

It does not weep or wail. It does not betray or lie.

It does not grow up to suffer. Death is kinder than life in that regard.

I used to think otherwise...before the dark times. Before the betrayal. Life's all about choices. I chose to save everyone in front of me, without reservations. I was a fool. Some people can't be saved. When your very world turns on you, sacrifices you, casts you out...it changes your perspective. It certainly changed mine. A dagger in the back and a sword through the heart. And for what? I gave them everything, and they gave me death. I tried so hard, got so far, and in the end, it doesn't even matter. They chose their precious Uchiha over me, forsook peace for the sake of a madman's revolution.

What's the saying these days? Kill the boy. Let the man be born. Congratulations. They certainly killed me.

I dream of my old world sometimes. They aren't pleasant dreams.

This world is my home now. Don't know how I survived, or how I landed in Remnant. Doesn't matter, I suppose. I'm here now, not there. There's no going back.

I was bleeding out in a ditch when the old man found me. He nursed me back to health. He listened to my tale. He understood. He gave me a home. He gave me purpose again. Direction, when I was rudderless. I owe him for that. And he's right. Sometimes you have to make the difficult decisions. Sometimes you need to keep secrets. Sometimes you need to harden your heart.

Sometimes a man has to make hard choices, choices that might look wrong to others. Now there's work to be done. Has to be me. Someone else might've gotten it wrong.

I say again, stone is a beautiful thing indeed. It does not weep or wail. Stone is cold. It does not betray or lie. Stone is silent. It does not laugh nor smile. Stone cannot be broken. It does not touch or sing. Stone wants for nothing, expects nothing, and so cannot be taken by surprise. It does not love. Stone sheds no tears. It cannot be deceived, cannot be betrayed, cannot be abandoned. Better to be alone, then. Better to throw oneself into one's task and forget it all. Better to enjoy the silence.

Best to have a Heart of Stone.


(.0.0.0.)


The Grimm came at dusk.

As far as ambushes went, theirs was almost beautiful in its simplicity; downright clever even. Rather than charge headlong into the settlement like the rest of their fellows, they adopted a silent approach. Unwilling to risk being seen by the guards, this particular pack struck when the hour was late. They moved under cover of darkness when the lunar light lay at its lowest. When the the fractured moon was concealed by clouds. When all fires had been reduced to mere cinders. When any sane individual would've been fast asleep in their homes, tucked away under warm furs from the cold Vale winter.

Many outlying villages had fallen to such ambushes in the past. Many more yet would.

As one mind, one unit, the Beowolf pack crept into the sleepy village without fear. They prowled through the market square, climbed over hedges, scrambled around fallen statues. Theirs was a large warband, numbering well over three dozen, more than a match for any fledgling hunter team. Their leader even more so.

For this pack was led by an Alpha; a great brute of a beast, with as many moons to its name as there were stars in the sky. It was old. Ancient. It had survived many a skirmish with many a Huntsman and grown all the stronger for it. Now the towering beast paused and took stock of its surroundings. Behind, its brothers halted. A mighty snout rose and inhaled deeply.

Something was amiss.

Perhaps, had its fellows possessed more than the meanest intelligence, they would've come to the same conclusion as their leader. All humans were noisy creatures; fitful beings that stank of fear, fear which in turn fed them. When one of their kind was seen the fleshy ones would kick up a fuss; shout and scream and scramble for their weapons. And yet now? Their was only silence. None challenged them. No cries went up. No alarm was sounded. There was no fear to be felt here. No prey to be found here. The village lay empty.

No, not quite empty. It could smell the scent of flesh within but it it was distant. Muted.

Stranger still, the ground was loose at their feet. As if someone had recently dug several holes and filled them back in. But why? To what purpose? Clever though the Alpha was, it could not comprehend the purpose of an anomaly such as this, and thus, it led the pack onward in search of their target. It lacked the ability to worry as the fleshy ones did; but it experienced a pang of confusion all the same as the silence persisted. Where had all the humans gone? Where was their prey?

...why did it have a bad feeling about this?

For three nights now they had harried this little hamlet without fail, striking in the gloom as commanded by their queen. Such was her decree. Their target was here. She must be here. The girl. She Who Must Be Found. She Who Must Not Be Killed. She Who Must Be Captured. They knew her face now and they would not rest until she was found. Tonight, they would tear the village down around her head and force her out of hiding once and for all. They were the hunters, and she was their prey, as all humans were. As it had always been.

But tonight something hunted them.

A hooded head rose from a nearby alleyway, framed by the shadows of a muddy green cloak. Baleful blue eyes burned in the dark as they beheld the Grimm. Whiskered cheeks dimpled in the faintest of scowls. Shrouded in silence and unseen by the Grimm, the hooded being pulled a tiny orange pistol from their sleeve. Barely a weapon at all, this. It held but a single round. The Grim never heard its owner whisper.

"On my mark."

An arm rose, pointing it towards the silent sky.

"Take aim."

A series of soft clicks answered him.

"Fire!"

With an almighty roar, nine flares howled into the sky, bathing the night in bloody crimson relief. Every single Grimm jolted at the sudden light, looked up, and was subsequently blinded for their foolishness. It would prove their undoing. A chorus of furious cracks raced hot on the heels of the flares as dust-powered rifles unloaded upon the unwary pack below. Smoke swelled from the shots, blinding the beasts yet further.

Most of them were still reeling when someone detonated the mines underfoot.

The dull roar that followed drowned out any howl the wolves might've made. Half the pack perished instantly, blasted apart or incinerated on the spot. The rest reeled, clutching their wounds. These monsters had thought to drown these poor people with numbers. They were drowned with clones instead. A hundred men burst from ground, leaped from the trees, appeared from the very air itself. Each wore the same face. Each brandished a weapon in hand. In short order the ambushers were themselves ambushed and put to the sword.

What followed wasn't a fight. It was a massacre.

Somehow, the Alpha was lucky enough to survive the initial blast. In that, it was fortunate. Instincts and heavy bone plating had shielded it from the worse of the explosives. Eyes spinning, ears ringing, world reeling, it struggled upright in the smoke. It found the one responsible for the slaughter soon thereafter; a cloaked Huntsman wading into the melee. He pulled a two-handed war ax from the holster at his back. It was a simple weapon, small yet slender, the kind one might expect a woodsman to use. All polished timber and steel with two edges, each glittering with ice dust.

The Huntsman flung it forward and the hatched buried itself in a wolf's skull. His prey crumpled with gurgle.

With a yowl born of loss and rage Alpha Beowolf lunged at him while he was unarmed. Honed claws tore the cowl from the Hunter's face as he ducked away. A youthful visage was exposed, whiskered cheeks framed by shaggy blond hair and dull blue eyes. In a rare moment of clarity, the Grimm suffered an epiphany. His was the gaze of a dead man, a being stripped of morals and compassion. A wraith, going through he same motions day after day. A man with a Heart of Stone. Keep moving. Keep killing, it was all he knew. All he could do.

He would rip and tear. Until it was done.

No witty retort was given. No clever remark made. The Alpha bit down at him in a frothing fury.

Gleaming golden hands caught the monstrosity by its jaws and wrenched them apart with a hideous crack. Wider, now. Wider still. Widest. The beast's roar trailed off into a confused whine when it failed to find the flesh it sought. That whine became a whimper as the man began to bend its slavering maw back. Bone crackled. Hideous red eyes bulged in confusion. Claws thrashed against his cloak and ripped into his body. They skittered off a burnished silver breastplate of light steel and armored shoulder, leaving them untouched.

Man met monster. The latter yielded. An awful pop filled the air and the Alpha knew no more.

With a long-suffering sigh, the Huntsman dropped its severed head on the ground and left it to dissolve with the brute's body. He yanked back with his right arm and the ax flew into his waiting hand. It smacked against his palm as he spun to face another Grimm, only to find naught but decaying corpses in their wake. He wasn't sure why that dissapointed him. The deed was done, the village protected, the people safe to return. By rights he should be pleased. Instead he just felt...hollow.

His army awaited, a sea of familiar faces -his face!- staring silently back at him. They were his Legion, awaiting their commands. He gave them gladly.

"Alright, lads. Lets get this over with. We've got a busy night ahead of us and a long walk back." A gloved hand flicked out his Scroll and called forth an image, holding it up for the horde to see. "She's a tricky little thing, and probably scared out of her wits. Don't hurt her." his gaze narrowed when a few of them looked surly. "She's just a kid. We're here to rescue her. Anyone who forgets that gets dispelled."

As one they saluted and dove into the village.

In the end, it only took five minutes to find the individual Ozpin sent him for; if only because she hadn't fled with the rest. Unwise that, but he wasn't the sort to look a gift horse in the mouth. Perhaps she didn't trust any of the villagers with her safety. Wise, that. The wilds of Vale were a dangerous place. In truth, he hadn't come here to save this little hamlet or the people dwelling within. They'd simply been in the way. It had only taken a few harsh words to make them evacuate. Almost sad, really. If it were his home he would've stood his ground. These people hadn't, for the most part.

One of the clones believe their quarry was hiding in an abandoned homestead; a battered ruin torn apart by Grimm some nights past.

They'd all but shorn the roof off, and hacked into the walls to get at those within, leaving the ramshackle building open to the elements. The door itself had long since been sundered by heavy blows, and now barely hung from rusty hinges that creaked in the wind. The Huntsman beheld a spot of dried blood upon the worn green frame and sighed. Pushing the torn frame aside, he entered the ransacked home.

The interior proved worse in every way.

Upturned furniture greeted his gaze, accompanied by a set of shattered stairs and yet more bloodstains. Blood on the floor told a grisly tale all its own. Someone had held a bitter last stand down here with a pitchfork and a fire poker. Judging by the bloodstains and the shattered stated of said implements, it hadn't ended well for them. He found a worn photograph nearby, its fame worn and cracked. A family, then. A mother, a father, and two children.

"Damn shame." he muttered. "Hope some of them made it out."

Little more than a shell of its former self, the cottage would no doubt torn down when the survivors returned to rebuild their lives. Those who had died perished would be buried, as would the memory of what transpired on this awful night. They would soon be forsaken and forgotten, like all the rest. Nothing more. Nothing less. Just like him.

Steeling himself against an unpleasant memory, the Huntsman stretched out his senses. Someone was here. He just knew it. But where...?

His gaze flitted to a heavy oaken chest and scratch marks against the floor. Someone had dragged it here. Hastily, by the look of things. The Grimm hadn't bothered with it. He gave it a good hard kick, and to his surprise, received a response. A dull thump echoed in the dark and the chest lurched as though struck from below. Blue eyes zeroed in on it. In short order the large chest was pushed away, and a cellar door revealed. He broke the lock, found the latch, and pulled it back, revealing a ladder and a yawning space below.

"Anyone down there?"

Something burst out of the dark and surged up the ladder to slam into his chest. He tried to catch them, and received an angry bite to the the wrist for his troubles. Rather than risk their safety he let go and allowed them to scramble past. He barely even felt the impact. A lesser man might've panicked. The Huntsman turned with the blow and followed its source with one eye, tracking it all the while.

"Easy there. You're alright, now." the shinobi-turned-mercenary turned towards the shivering wreck. "The Grimm are all gone. I killed every last one of them."

With deliberate slowness he reached into one of his belt pouches and withdrew a half-eaten granola bar. He brandished it before him like a sword.

"C'mon." he held it up at eye level, voice echoing in the stillness. "You must be hungry after being down there for so long."

The silence had no answers for him, but he saw a shadow scramble into a darkened corner.

Whiskered cheeks dimpled in a scowl as he knelt.

"I'm Naruto, by the way." he spoke slowly, modulating his voice into a soothing undertone. "What's your name?"

"..."

"Look, if I was going to kill you, I would've done it by now." he shook his head and lowered his hand. "I'm here to protect you. Scout's honor."

A faint scratching sound reached his ears. Slowly, tentatively, a tiny shape emerged in the light of the moon.

"See? That wasn't so bad."

Naruto looked down at the child. Back to the photograph on his Scroll. Back to her again. The little girl gazed up at him, eyes wide and feareful.

Mismatching orbs of pale cream regarded him, framed by a messy mop of brown and pink spattered with blood. In the moonlight, her eyes burned with wild flames. Clad in tattered brown rags, she was stick thin and looked to be on her last legs, barely clinging to the last dregs of life. Curiosity gave way to intrigue as he looked upon her. This was the girl he'd been asked to find? A wet kitten was more dangerous than this little tyke, burning eyes or no. Still, he didn't approach her; because looks looks could be deceiving.

And right now? She was eyeing the ration bar in his hands like it were solid gold.

He granted her a grim grin. "Hello, little Maiden. Nice to meet you."

She didn't even blink; her eyes were fixed firmly on the granola bar. Dirty fingers twitched restlessly at her sides. For a moment he though she'd try to take it from him by force. The air shimmered and rippled as she tried to weave an illusion between the two of them. He saw right through it. Her eyes burned again, odd flames shooting from her gaze. Naruto tensed, but she didn't call upon the Power. The child just...stared at him. Perhaps she realized what he was; perhaps she knew better. Perhaps she simply had a good head on her shoulders. Who could say?

Naruto hefted the granola bar. Her gaze followed it.

...you want this?"

Her eyes flicked to his face, then the food in his hand. Pale lips worked wordlessly, a dry tongue flitting out across cracked lips. No sound emerged. Not even a squeak. Odd. Even children could make noise. That she hadn't done so concerned him. Some folk were born deaf. Others came into this world blind. But to be born mute? He'd not seen that before. Poor thing.

He frowned down at her. "Huh. Can't talk, can ya?"

The girl's head bobbed in a fitful nod.

"Go any family?"

She shook her head.

"Then what do I call you...?"

She reached out at him, at the food in his hand, but didn't approach. Her eyes met his, conveying an unspoken message. Gimme. The bitter gasp of a starved child:

Please...so hungry...

Something stirred in his hardened heart. He knelt further. The girl skittered back when he reached out for her.

"Here."

A lazy toss of his wrist sent the ration bar sailing through the air. Her eyes snapped to it with hawklike focus, watching it sail end over end. Fear burned away in the face of hunger. She scrambled forward and snatched it up before it could touch the ground. Foil crumpled in her hands and the food vanished into her mouth. By the sage, he didn't even see her chew. She'd practically inhaled the damn thing. He produced another and she all but devoured thatHis eyes flickered to her hair and wild eyes. Pink. Brown. White. Hmm. An idea was born.

"Hey."

The little girl perked up and scowled at him like a wary fox.

In return, Naruto pulled the canteen from his belt and offered it to her. She crept closer. He didn't move. Tiny fingers darted out, ripped it from his grasp and tore the cap off. She drank greedily. Nothing was spared. The empty canister struck the dusty ground with a dull clatter. Her eyes sought his again, and he found himself reminded of a stray dog that had been kicked one too many times. She was wary of him. Rightfully so. A man in armor was a man to be feared, and he was more dangerous than most. Still, he couldn't leave her here...

"Neo."

The girl jolted as if she'd been struck and a pale finger touched her chin, as if to say, "Me?"

"Neo." Naruto repeated the word slowly, sounding it out for her as she gazed at him with eyes of mismatching creme. "That'll be your name. Its short for Neapolitan. Matches your hair. Whaddya think?" When she dithered he had but to wave a third rations bar before her face. Her approval was won almost instantly and her head bobbed in silent agreement.

Naruto cracked a smile. "Liked that one, do you?"

Neo offered him a small, anxious smile as she chewed -slower this time!- upon her hard won meal. Poor tyke. She couldn't be more than seven years old. Not even ten, and already she was being hunted by the forces of darkness. Perhaps that was why Ozpin wanted her so badly. To be a Maiden at such a tender young age...well. He didn't much envy her fate. Maybe she was unlucky. Maybe the power had probably gone to her by chance. Maybe it was destiny. Naruto didn't much know, or care for that matter. He'd already made his decision. She couldn't be left her. Alone, she'd not make it through the next week.

A gloved palm descended, fingers splayed toward the ruined ceiling.

"Come with me if you want to live."

That drew a blink from little Neo. She was small, after all. Tiny. Skittish. She didn't even come up to his waist; a life of malnutrition spent on the run had left her weak indeed. He suspected that if he were to carry her, she wouldn't weigh a thing. The thought burned him. No child should live like this. She deserved a home, a family, even if he couldn't be the one to give her that. Surely Ozpin would be able to keep her safe; find a place for her at the very least-

A tiny hand wrapped around his thumb and index finger, squeezing tightly.

Another wrapped around his right leg.

Naruto looked down, somewhat startled to find the little hellion pressing her face into his leg just above the knee. A strange dampness seeped through the fabric of his jeans. Neo raised her gaze. Mismatching eyes met his, framed by tears. Oh, dear. His sixth sense bristled. Oddly enough, he had an inkling of what was about to happen. He prayed his was wrong. No. Surely she wouldn't...!

Sure enough, her lips moved, mouthing a word.

And with it, his fate was sealed.

"Papa."

A/N: Behold! Little!Neo in all her glory! And does she have what I think she has...? Why, she does!

As per the "Embers" rule, this will be deleted if folks don't like it. I'm not kidding.

And NO Naruto isn't Ozpin's lackey. They work together. That's all. He's not slavishly devoted to him, nor does he hang off his every word. He simply understands his point of view. They both want to protect humanity, such as it is. They are allies. Nothing more, nothing less.

Isolation's given me plenty of time to write, and you can expect everything to be updated soon

What happened to Naruto? What led him to become like this? Why is he in Remnant?

So in the Immortal Words of Atlas...Review...Would You Kindly?

And of course, enjoy the previews.

(Previews)

"Quite attached to you, isn't she?"

"She'll grow out of it."


"Oh my god she's so tiny! So precious! So cuuuuute!"

Naruto groaned. "Summer, no...

"SUMMER YES!"


"This is the way."


For the first time in years he realized his heart might not be stone. Stone is indeed beautiful...but so too were the living.


"He cannot die."

"Incorrect, James. Unlike me, he's quite mortal. He simply doesn't age. And you're right. I don't know where he came from." Ozpin steepled his fingers, considering the map beneath him for a long, agonizing moment. "I don't know who or what made him the way he is now. But I know this. He's a good man. A simple soul. Do you see this?" a finger stabbed down, indicating the vast swathe of green across said map. "This young man has singlehandedly pushed back the Grimm and made colonization possible here in Vale. Mountain Glenn would have fallen were it not for him. SHE fears him."

A weighty silence forced itself between the two men.

"In a way, he reminds me of myself. If I thought he could kill Salem, I'd gladly set him upon her."

His old friend granted him a curious. "But you don't think he can."

"Salem cannot be killed. Not even by him...not yet at least."

Ironwood blinked. "Not yet?"

"Naruto is...very creative when it comes to high ordinance explosive and seals."

R&R~!