The young man - in his mid to late teens - stood in front of the gatehouse. His eyes roamed over the monumental bastion, catching the reliefs and defects in the edifice of bricks and cinderblocks. His ears twitched as a light breeze rustled through the creeping vines and shrubs that invaded the wall. The gatehouse towered over the road and swallowed the band of black asphalt - hot under his feet. A wide, square entrance pierced through the bulwark, secured by two massive doors of timber - reeking of fresh paint. Three blocks of stone framed the opening, giving it the air of a traditional torii. The horizontal one was carved with a stylized leaf, painted red. The ensemble was impressive, the young man admitted to it, even though it was all for show: one stretch of awareness informed him that a well-dimensioned explosive tag would have reduced the building to a pile of rubbles. Nonetheless, the entrance maintained the people who passed through it in a sufficiently awed state. Konohagakure was a powerful institution and it would be properly feared.

The real defences lay elsewhere anyway. The young man could hear the crystal pitch of a projected awareness, spun like a fine web around the walls in order to catch anyone who would not submit themselves to the checkpoint. He could see the men and women in the tower, clad in armoured jackets and armed with prgrssv-steel blades and composite bows, who kept a silent and vigilant watch.

He had hoped for something to happen at the gate but it was obviously not to be. It meant, as he had feared, that he had to enter Konohagakure to push his investigation forward. For a second, he wished he could have left well-enough alone but then again, he was here, in front of this gate, because he was not well enough. Resolve hardened his eyes; he would not back off now that he was here. There was a sparse but steady trickle of visitors going through the gate and he joined the line, waiting for his turn. Letting his gaze wander, he observed the travellers, dismissing their odour and their sound. He noticed that a few of them were bringing goods coming from nearby districts, loaded in self-driving carts. Another stretch of awareness informed him that many, however, were clients. The young man frowned at the thought but quickly shook it out of his mind.

His turn at the security checkpoint came soon enough and the process was fast. Without protest, he removed the white, high-collared cloak he was wearing, revealing a form-fitting, long-sleeved, rust-coloured shirt lined with a mesh of prgrssv-steel wires and floating black pants tied right underneath his knees. A man, who was wearing a blocky piece of headgear covering the top-half of his face, peered at him - or so the young man surmised, as he could not see the man's eyes - for a few seconds before he gestured to his colleague that everything was right. The young man was handed back his cloak and sent on his way, a sealed pass in hand. As he left the checkpoint behind, he could hear the faint crackling sounds of a radio and smiled wryly. He chose a random direction and walked aimlessly, knowing he would soon be found and led where he most likely needed to be, taking in the atmosphere of the city in the meantime.

His immediate impression of Konohagakure was that of orderly chaos. Once he started parsing through the sensory input, however, he found a certain logic, like an encumbered desk whose owner knows exactly where everything lies. The buildings stood high, designed in every imaginable kind of architecture and tightly packed around looming trees, dense groves and pools and canals. The streets buzzed with the rumours of stall owners, AC conditioning blocks and the hum of electric cables. Wood, cinderblocks, bricks, mill-steel and glass were mismatched in a patchwork of shapes and colours, moulded into high rectangular blocks of flats, stocky cylindrical towers, small houses from another time, arcades, bridges, bow-windows, jettied upper storeys and cupolas. Water whispered or roared almost everywhere. Vegetation and water were omnipresent and seemed almost out of control in some areas, growing and flowing around, on and within the buildings, cooling the ground floor of the city down to an almost breezy temperature, in spite of the crushing sun overhead. The network of canals, fed by the Naka River, was scattered all through the city and the young man discovered with great interest that boats used them for public transportation.

There were small shops at every corner; from restaurants to tailors to hardware and corner stores, everything could be found without much trouble. A flurry of billboards, flyers and every other kind of advertisement promoted the countless businesses. There were so many visual cues that the young man eventually allowed a fresh stretch of awareness to gather it all. At some point, he could not hold it in and bought a skewer of candied fruits to focus on. The mild annoyance he felt at being manipulated into buying something he had not really needed was pacified by the taste.

He was finishing his treat when four figures fell all around him. He had perceived their approach from a long way and they sang of no ill intention, which was the reason why he kept walking, relaxed. Sparing them a glance, he saw they were all wearing wide morpho-cloaks that shimmered in the shades, deactivated. Their heads were dissimulated behind well-crafted holo-masks that imitated the mien of snarling predators; he had to blink to keep himself from staring. In spite of all their equipment, he could hear their emotions bubbling right beneath their skin, forming a cascade of crystal clear harmonics within his empathetic field: stark disbelief, exacerbated wariness, low humming fear. One stepped towards him.

"Hello… Sir. Would you mind following us?"

The young man smiled good-naturedly, dedicating a full stretch of awareness to handle the conversation while another was focused on the candied fruits. "May I know why?"

"The Hokage wishes to see you, as soon as possible."

The young man blinked, surprise arching his brow. He had been expecting something but this went beyond what he had imagined. "Why would the Hokage wish to see a visiting nobody like me?"

The masked man hesitated for a second. "We are not allowed to say anything to you. We simply must lead you to our leader."

"And I imagine I cannot refuse."

"No. All visitors are informed when they enter the precinct of the city that they submit to our law. The summon of a Hokage is legally binding."

"Very well." The young man made a vague motion of his right hand. "Show the way. And thanks for letting me finish my candies."

His escort led the young man through the various districts of the city at an energetic pace, taking the tramboats each time it was possible in order to cut time. Even then, it took them half an hour to reach the Red Tower, backed against the steep, ochre cliff of Hokage Mountain. Carved from the facade of rock, the five visages of every Hokage, past and present, were watching over the city.

The fortress of Konohagakure was made up of a trio of stocky, tipless conical buildings painted crimson and girdled by a low wall. The central tower had three apparent stages and its top was an open terrace, delimited by six white fang-like panels. A round, red billboard, emblazoned with the kanji for "fire", hung underneath the terrace. The young man found the ensemble disgraceful, the proportions making the building look like some sort of fat onion with two sickly outgrowths. Absentmindedly musing about the design, he decided that it was probably the ugliest construction he had seen yet; politely, however, he kept his impression to himself, not wanting to offend the men around him.

The group of five entered the tower, unhindered by the guards. The young man could feel notes of thick uncertainty, astonished surprise - sheer disbelief even - echo one another within his perception each time his escort and he passed by a clerk or another soldier. They would stare at his features before their own slowly but seemingly inevitably adopted the same pallid look of intense puzzlement. Barely audible beneath the immediate surprise, however, lurked darker tones, similar to maggots crawling under seemingly healthy flesh. They made up a full spectrum of diffuse fear, confused resentment, ash-cold hatred but, most important and loudest, a scream of mortified shame. The young man recognized he was bound to these feelings within the mind of those people and frowned slightly. Before he could wonder much about it, however, the four masked men had led him in front of a door. One of them opened the simple wooden panel and gestured for him to enter.

The traveller complied and entered a spacious office, well lit by the sun thanks to a large bay window. In front of the only desk in the room, a blond woman, who did not look older than twenty-five, was restlessly pacing to and fro. When she registered his presence, she looked at the young man with wide eyes that were brimming with tears.

The young man almost fell on his behind when, one after the other, the five stretches of awareness he maintained harmonized all simultaneously with an overwhelmingly powerful chord of both distress and joy. He did not see how the woman walked - stumbled almost - towards him before she planted herself in front of him. Carefully, she raised a hand to the teen's shoulder and pulsed a tiny amount of chakra, not enough to hurt but sufficient to dispel any kind of illusion. The jolt allowed the young man to focus some of his mind on the present. Abruptly, the woman engulfed him in a sobbing hug. She was strong, and her hug was firm but not painful. Warmth, love and heartache once again almost washed the young man away but he let the sensations rage past his heart, not allowing feelings that weren't his own to integrate with his psyche. Nonetheless, they awoke something deep within him; a sense of kinship, of visceral familiarity. He knew this woman like one knows every woman who lives in their dreams. Something else was stirred too, however; a poisonous sensation, a perfidious whisper, a gnawing feeling wormed deep within his psyche that screamed that he was not the one truly embraced. It was a parasite he knew well.

"Oh, Naruto! I cannot… I cannot believe it. I cannot!" She spoke softly, her voice unsteady, shaken by the tremors of both grief and relief. She pinched his right cheek as if to check it were real; it - as did his left one - bore three scars reminiscent of whiskers, just as she remembered. His hair was so blond, like mature rice, and his eyes so blue, like the ice of a glacier.

The young man allowed the woman to hug him. He could hear the chant of mixed sorrow and happiness that emanated from her and no trace of any ill intention. She truly believed he was this Naruto, whoever this was and he would not deny someone an easy comfort, even if her reaction was slightly surprising after the general distress he had caused until now. Plus, he liked hugs, willingly ignoring the bead of sickly sweat that rolled down his spine. After a time, however, he gently but firmly broke the embrace and looked in the woman's light brown eyes.

"I truly have no wish to hurt you, Hokage-sama, please believe when I say this. But my name is Menma and, as far as I can recall, I do not know you."

Ten minutes later, Menma and the Hokage - Tsunade Senju, the boy had learned - were sitting across one another at a low table in the spacious living room of the Hokage mansion, a nice manor built behind the Red Tower. A bowl of tea smoked in front of each of them and a plate of dango was waiting in the middle. Menma took one of the sweets and popped it inside his mouth, humming in appreciation of the taste. Delicately, he took his bowl and took a sip of the hot beverage, savouring its flavour before laying the pottery back down.

"I suppose you'd like me to talk first." He said suddenly, his voice forceful to hide his reluctance, startling Tsunade ever so slightly.

Telling a stranger about his life as he knew it was undoubtedly weird. Then again, she was not a stranger, simply someone he did not remember. The Hokage nodded.

Menma hummed pensively, taking another dango to help him distract one stretch of awareness. "I think the start would do nicely."

"I do."

The young man hummed again. "Well, I wasn't lying when I said I don't remember you but there is a catch."

"There is?"

Menma smiled. It did not exactly reach his eyes. "The thing is, I've no memory older than… Nearly three years ago. One day, I woke up in my saviour's house and it was like the first day of my life."

"What happened?" Tsunade asked in a white voice.

"If only I knew. I was broken, badly wounded. My saviour made me whole, physically… and mentally. Not knowing anything about myself was… harrowing." Menma smiled arched further, into something genuine, his eyes looking off for a second. "He was a great help."

"Who was it? The man who saved you?"

The young man shook his head. "I apologize but I am not at liberty to say. There is safety in anonymity."

The Hokage frowned slightly and Menma discerned a low hum of annoyance, something she quickly repressed.

"I see," she said eventually. "Please, continue."

"There is not much more to say. I could somehow read and write and count but apart from that, my memory is a great, white nothing. I healed and enjoyed peace for as long as I could. But… not knowing was weighing on my mind. And the only clue I had was this," said Menma as he produced a flat object wrapped in cloth from a pouch tied to his waist.

Tsunade took the proffered item with a slightly trembling hand, knowing what it was. Parting the piece of fabric, she revealed a scratched, worn hitai-ate bearing a stylized leaf.

"I was wearing it when my saviour found me."

Tsunade breathed deeply and Menma could feel her fighting against a wave of grief. "It was yours," she said finally, her throat choked by sorrow still too fresh to be healed by his reappearance. She exhaled, slowly but forcefully. "It was your hitai-ate, Naruto Uzumaki."

The name rang hollow, like a meaningless cry echoing in a dark cave.

"I see. Did you know me?"

Without warning, the woman laughed. It sounded strangled, similar to the barking of a dog but still mirthful, somehow. "I'm Hokage because of you, boy!" Tsunade squashed a tear. "You dragged me back to Konoha while I was drowning myself in alcohol. You…" She swallowed thickly and her voice died. "You called me Baa-chan."

Menma blinked, surprised his past self had been so intimate with someone as powerful as the Hokage. The words, however, stirred nothing. His memories remained as the vast expense of white they had become. They were not occulted by some rampart without substance, no. They were gone, erased and - if his master were right - possibly never to be retrieved.

"What was I like?"

Tsunade smiled fondly, her gaze lost to the past. "Loud. And ignorant, and headstrong to the point you could be obnoxious. But also steadfast, honourable and more driven than anyone else."

"Interesting. Those… don't sound like ideal traits to have as a ninja," mused Menma with a chuckle. "Apart from the drive, I mean."

Tsunade shook her head in confirmation but kept smiling all the same. "You sure weren't one for conventions. You followed your very own Nindo… and won the respect of many while doing so. But, honestly, you were kind of a terrible ninja. As a brawler though, you definitely knew how to fight."

Menma answered the woman's smile with one of his own. So he had been a charge-first, ask question later type of guy and had probably snubbed his academics, if Tsunade were to be believed. He could tell that she had been truthful, telling him about his past self, not necessarily factually, but at the very least how she remembered it. There had been, however, a discordant note in the harmony of her otherwise pleasant feelings, associated with her mentioning the respect his past self had enjoyed. He stored the information for later and focused back on the conversation.

"What of my family?"

The ashen look on Tsunade's face told Menma everything he needed to know.

"So, I'm an orphan."

She nodded. He blinked; the admission was bizarre. He felt nothing about it but then again, he had no clue about whether or not he should have been awash with anything in particular. The blank space left in place of his memories spoke of no attachment of any kind, to anyone. If anything, he was a little disappointed but not sad.

"Since your birth."

"Oh."

This time, a pang of sorrow needled him; not for himself but for this Naruto he had been. Growing up without parents ought to be tough.

"Do I have any kind of family? Like, I don't know… a caretaker, maybe?"

The question caused Tsunade to grimace and disgust, anger and disappointment to well up within her. Menma frowned at the sudden and unexpected surge of discordant overtones; they rang like cracked bells, felled trees and buzzing rot flies. As the woman kept silent, the teenager looked at her, intently and expectantly. She swallowed thickly.

"You… for the longest time, you weren't at home here." She sighed. "On the day of your birth, the Kyuubi no Kitsune attacked Konoha, killing many. The Yondaime Hokage sealed the monster inside you. You were orphaned that night. Your status was later on revealed to the townspeople and they decided to ostracize and bully you. But you decided you'd earn their love and respect and show them their treatment of you was unwarranted."

Menma slowly arched one of his eyebrows as Tsunade summarized his childhood. He frowned when he heard the logic of his past self. While honours and deference could be earned by accomplishing remarkable feats, respect was a matter of basic decency and love was freely given, or not. The self-assigned mission felt like a fool's errand, more so because it was up to the townspeople to realize they were in the wrong, not up to Naruto to prove it. Nonetheless, Menma did not feel much more than diffuse anger and sadness. Having no memory of it, he could only muster sympathy for the child he had been and a vague sentiment of indignation directed at the Konohan. No good people behaved as they had, period. There was neither grief nor hate, however. Instead, he was simply curious. It felt woefully insufficient. He ignored the hollow discomfort that burrowed above his stomach and focused on what had caught his attention.

Tsunade had mentioned two points of interest, her emotions fluctuating when she mentioned the Yondaime Hokage. As for the Kyuubi no Kitsune, Menma mused wryly, it had ceased to be a problem.

"Mhm, well." He chuckled awkwardly. "I have… news. I don't know if you'd consider them good or bad."

Tsunade looked up, getting out of her funk. "News?"

"Yeah. About the Kyuubi." Menma shrugged. "It's gone. Free."

The Hokage opened her eyes wide. "So... it means-"

"Yes." Menma nodded. "I died. The Kyuubi most probably escaped then, good riddance, honestly. I only came back thanks to my saviour. According to them, there was a spark, somewhere within me, that clung to life. I wanted to live, in spite of my wounds, of my torn-apart chakra and my ravaged tenketsu. That was the only reason they could heal me."

"Sage… Menma. I'm sorry."

The young man arched one eyebrow. "Sorry? What for?" He eyed Tsunade with mock suspicion. "You weren't the one who killed me, were you?"

The woman shook her head but sighed heavily. "I… I sent you on the mission where you lost your life."

Menma blinked, the absence of memory not conducive to any emotional reaction. The pit above his stomach deepened. He felt, not for the first time, like a stranger in a body who did not belong to him. Instead, his intellect simply told him that Naruto had chosen the ninja life knowingly, at least he hoped so. Death was a well-known risk of this business.

"Well… Past me was a ninja. I hope I wasn't so naive as to not consider the idea of my death."

Tsunade looked struck and averted her gaze. "You…" She sighed. "You were." She gritted her teeth. "You were a bright light, Nar- Menma. And, despite what our own experiences were telling us, we sought to preserve you."

"Us?"

"Me. Your teachers."

"Huh." Menma chuckled mirthlessly. "Well, it might sound strange to you but I don't feel much sympathy towards this Naruto I used to be. It sounds like he was a stranger in his own world and only sheer stupidity allows for that to happen. Though I'll be blunt: I don't feel much sympathy for you either: allowing a kid like this to become a ninja was not only irresponsible, it was cruel."

"I know." Tsunade acquiesced in. "But I felt it would have been crueller to deprive y-him of it. It was his dream; he lived for it." She smiled. "And, in a way, his naivety was what saved me. It was who he was."

"Naivety gets easily taken advantage of, optimism is reasoned. You could have simply ensured he was aware of what he was doing. Because, from what you told me, he clearly wasn't." Menma smiled lightly. "Helping others and putting his life on the line; he definitely wasn't a ninja." He nodded, his eyes contemplative. "I can get behind it, though."

Silence settled over the pair, one Menma would have found companionable if it were not for the worm murmuring him that he was not the one who should have been here. Taking advantage of the lull in the conversation, he took his bowl of tea and drank some. The liquid was lukewarm and he had to repress a grimace. Discreetly, he required his chakra that it heats up the beverage to an enjoyable temperature. He caught Tsunade's narrowed gaze and smiled.

"It's handy," he explained with a shrug.

"And finely controlled," she retorted. "You-Naruto wasn't as advanced."

"I learned once I was healed. It distracted my preoccupied mind nicely. But do not be mistaken: my saviour is not a ninja."

"I see." Tsunade hesitated. "May I ask a… a personal question?"

"You may but I cannot guarantee I will answer you."

"What do you intend to do?"

"Hm, that's a rather wide question. Right now? In a month? In ten years?"

"Let's say right now."

"Well, with your authorization, I was thinking of meeting the people Naruto used to interact with." He scratched his cheek. "He was me." He said hesitatnly. "Though I'm not him... and frankly speaking, I don't intend to be. I think I... I owe it to his memory. And to myself."

"That'd be easy to arrange. Then?"

Menma shrugged. "I guess I'll try to see what kind of person I want to be. And what kind of stuff I want to do."

Tsunade took a deep breath before she peered deep in Menma's gaze. "Do you… do you wish to be reinstated as a ninja?"

The young man immediately shook his head just as the worm screamed that it was not his decision to make. "No. I appreciate the wording though, thank you. I mean no offence but I do not respect what you ninja do."

The woman blinked and Menma heard the internal cries of surprise at his declaration, her mind no doubt having trouble to believe that such a statement could come out of a mouth that apparently used to say the opposite. The young man felt sick but shown none of it.

"Could you explain?"

"Sure. You sell violence. I personally believe that it is scummy. I'm not against the use of force to protect yourself and that which you hold dear but you monetizing premeditated, cold-blooded violence is not something I can support in good conscience. You benefit and so carefully maintain a system that crushes the lives of countless people."

"We do protect people."

"You also murder them, provided the client pay you enough. You steal industrial secrets, invade people's privacy, destroy groundbreaking technologies in order to preserve deleterious interests and keep humongous corporations alive. And I won't even mention the various tales of interference in the business of neighbouring regions. You are far from being as slick as you believe."

Tsunade said nothing. What the teenager said was true. Certainly, Konohagakure bred a strong esprit-de-corps among its ninja, a powerful sense of purpose, a certainty that every mission done in the name of Konohagakure was a good deed. Konohagakure protected its own, to a degree but their moral compass did not extend past their walls. The Will of Fire was extremely selective in its application. Even Naruto himself had been excluded from it, despite being a citizen of the town.

"Plus, as you said, Konohagakure was not my home and it still isn't."

"What do you mean?"

Menma offered her a half, strained smile. "You were the only one who was happy to see me. While I wasn't expecting universal love, I was not ready for… whatever it was that I triggered in the people who saw me. It's almost funny, they looked like they were seeing a ghost and it wasn't a pleasant experience for them." He shuddered. "Though I suppose seeing a ghost really wouldn't be pleasant."

"People recognized you?"

"They aren't sure. But I did stir some really unpleasant memories, that's for sure."

"Those no-good, weak-willed cowards," mumbled the woman.

"Honestly, staying in a place that has fostered mistrust against me to such a degree doesn't sound attractive. As I said, I'm not Naruto, and I really don't feel like bothering with bigoted idiots. If your people solve whatever grief is plaguing them, like grown adults, I might consider it but I'm not fighting for acceptance, or whatever stupidity my past self decided to do."

"Understandable, of course," answered Tsunade after a second of silence. "I… Naruto was so… hellbent on it, I never quite considered how it wasn't… well… right. Where will you go then?"

"I dunno. I'm hesitating between living as a recluse where no one will find me and changing the world. But I've no set plan," Menma answered with mirth. "But as I said, that comes after I'm done meeting Naruto's old comrades."

Tsunade smiled. "Alright. Why don't you find some accommodation and come back here tomorrow around ten? I'll have you meet a few people. There is one last thing we must discuss though."

"And what would it be?"

"An organization called the Akatsuki. They hunt jinchuuriki, people who host-"

"Jail."

"Sorry?"

"Jinchuuriki are sacrifices used to jail tailed beasts. Let's call a cat a cat, shall we?"

Tsunade frowned as if contemplating the teenager's words and nodded slowly. "Yeah. I get how it could be seen like this."

"Could be seen? Well, convenient narrative and lies weren't the points of this discussion. So, Akatsuki, what about them?"

"I have no idea if they know that the Kyuubi is not bound to you anymore."

"So you believe they will hunt me. And they are not the kind of guys who ask questions, I guess?"

"Precisely."

"I know how to defend myself."

"They are a bunch of S-ranked menaces. I doubt it."

"Well, I'm sure I can stall them long enough to explain my case to them. Plus, what would you have me do? I won't live in fear of what a bunch of people could do."

Tsunade hesitated, nibbling on her lower lips for a second before she dropped what she had in mind. "Stay. Here, in Konoha, so that we can protect you."

"You'll protect me from Akatsuki? You are sure of that? Because I'm not sure your people would share your goodwill. But that's moot, honestly: if these people are after me, I'm not letting anyone else take their blows for me. That's final."

"So stay and we will train you."

"You need me that bad as one of your men?" Menma asked, mildly surprised. He could feel how much she wanted him to stay, how her heart was crying out.

Tsunade promptly shook her head. "I couldn't give two shits whether or not you are a ninja." She plunged her brown eyes in the young man's blue. "But whatever you remember, whatever other people say, you're my family. I lost you once, I'm not losing you a second time. That's why I want you to stay."

"Oh." Menma felt heat creep up his cheeks and warmth spread in his stomach. The harmonics of her love chorused within his empathetic field and his ego soaked it up in spite of himself. For him, being touched was quite a bit more literal than for regular people. He chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "Well. Huh. Right." He averted his gaze from the woman's. "I suppose I could stay a while," he mumbled.

It did not sit right with him to refuse such earnest, powerful feelings. In addition, he was venturing into the world in order to discover his lost past. Outright severing such a strong connection to another would have not only felt monstrous, it would have defeated the point of his travels. Menma did not know if he could answer it in kind but he could try.

Tsunade beamed and her chakra sang of happiness. "I'll lodge you."


AN: do not hesitate to leave a review.

For anyone interested, I took inspiration from this artwork to design Konohagakure: wallpapercavedotcomslashwpslashwp4068643dotjpg