Quick Author's Note: I will not offer commentary until after the story. So, 'till then…please enjoy! (I will say though this story is completely separate and different from my other works, and, for anyone interested in timelines—after grueling addition and subtraction, and numerous consultations to reputable Naruto fan sites, I am positive of the ages presented in here—the only one I could freely play with being Sakumo's.)
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto (sob), but, I do own my OC's. So…YAY.
Genre: General
Thank you…L.M. Montgomery, for helping me with the big words. And to J. C. for perseverance and resignation. And G. K. C., for the laughs.
Dedication: To my sister, with our understanding of patience, radio, and little notes under the door; with love.
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Courage is the fulcrum that moves history.
Coushander
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コウシャンデル
Chapter 1
Welcome Home, Jiraiya
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When he was ten years old, Sakumo whipped his head back around because he thought he'd seen red tears on either side of the child's eyes. He proceeded stealthily again, Sakumo's ears pricked like a cat's to traces of foreign caution. His alertness was nearly unnecessary since the room held as much unyielding silence as a funeral procession. And as he stood next to the crib, he was just tall enough to see it—him. They weren't tears; it wasn't blood, and it was damn strange. On each side, right below the eye, harbored a small, tri-cornered red mark. Whether it was natural or not, Sakumo didn't know.
After all, he'd never seen a baby before.
He looked around and leaned closer. His double-look was fleeting as his dark eyes returned to a pensive state, doling familiar curiosity. "My name is Sakumo," he said quietly. He saw the empty name-tag around the child's wrist and frowned. "I guess otoussan didn't give you a name," he murmured. "…Or your okaasan…" It was then Sakumo remembered hearing something about a legendary ninja a few months back. He didn't know how reputable the story was, or even the name of the man who mentioned it. But considering the ani wasn't about to let his otouto go without a fight, it only seemed natural (and devious) to do it.
When measured, adult footsteps were heard walking down the outside hall, Sakumo scrambled out so fast, it was another small wonder he had the stability not to trip out into the opposite hall.
By the time he hit the gravel, he was dodging raindrops.
She loved the children. She loved watching them grow up, into their quirks and roles, and wait for the new ones still to come. Every one she saw, she had a sense of their own unique presence; quiet, demure, loud, obnoxious, introvert, extrovert; and down the line she greeted them until she came to the one with the white hair. "Hello," she smiled. "Hello Jiraiya."
And somehow she just knew that one was trouble.
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The young silver-haired older brother took refuge under the wooden roof of a shrine, and decided he'd wait it out until either the rain ceased, or his shift started in the morning, whichever came first. He sat there, thinking about all the delicate relationships that were changed just during a twenty-four hour period. An older brother, would you think of that?! It suddenly dawned on him like the distant sun beyond the hazy blue-grey, that he forgot to mention it only got harder from there on out; the first piece of advice he could think of. Sorely, he imagined the platitude would not be needed once the trial and error began. Who would be there to help him? To guide him? Certainly not otoussan. And maybe not your okaasan, either, Sakumothought.
Wouldn't it have been great…he thought idly, his eyes traipsing the long stretch of green shadows of the forest and path. To stay like that…? The boy found himself drifting back into an easy silence…One with the background hum of a working civilization, bestarred with the conquests and queries he was engaged in every day…alone in the precious solitude of thought in that forgiving, lazy abyss…
Sakumo was snapped from his reverie when from the corner of his eye, he saw a figure moving far off on his left. When he dark eyes adjusted on the position, he realized with a special phrase his squad leader made frequent use of: "Oh shit!"
He ducked his head down as if he'd seen a ghost, and hoped the eldest Hatake kept on walking.
Welcome home, Jiraiya…he thought tartly. Welcome home…
The rain ceased by the time Sakumo's courage propelled him to check and see if the man had gone.
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