My mother was born a hundred-and-one years ago into a large branch clan of the Senju, on the island off the coast; he too, was an Uzumaki by birth. However, by the character of his clan, he was ostracized for the shade of his hair, the personality he presented, and the prisoner he was born within. They found all persona he put forth was forever inappasite unto their stern disposition, a staid family which found no satisfaction in anything significant- not even their won battles could put forth a gratification unto the red-headed clan. Forthwith, my mother was made an orphan, his parents acknowledging his ill-favoured gift with an immediate abhorrence, his clan following in agreement, their odium obvious. Indeed only the Matriarch took care to raise him; regardless of the fact that he was merely an infant, each within the clan bore only loathing for him, fright the whole of their reasoning. At four he was cast to the streets with disinterest, surviving upon scraps from the bonfires at night, and drinking from the pails brought in the morning, he slept under the one spare cloth he was given beneath the shadows of too large roofs.
Each day proceeding in an aforesaid manner, all coalescing into the same day by a child's perception. That was until an enormous resounding blast resonated throughout the hamlet, with an accompaniment of burning fires erupting from the west side in with sudden blackening smoke. My mother collapsed to the ground for lack of escape, covering the fragility of his head and shaking in shock by the blast, as others scurried in readying for battle; the signal horn blowing loud across the valley. He was caught in the midst, made normality within any fight, one had just never been made from within the clan grounds. Still, though he had been in shock for a moment, such a weakness was soon swept aside as he proceeded in the one job he had been granted: For you see my mother was a medic shinobi, trained only to lend aid to his injured comrades, to maintain a stringent avoidance of any attackers for fear of capture.
There were many people running around for panic, for their hurry to battle. Sprawled were several bodies upon the path, covered within their dirt, matted by the stick of blood. Some were sliced through their hips, their arms forwent, many necks open wide for air in all the wrong places, and eyes would be wide open in last momentary horror, pupils blackened for their abrupt end. So there the dirt was dampened with crimson pools, yet with all resolution, my mother stepped a forward and pushed himself to those who might be saved with sleight of hand. Focus enraptured by his closest patient, one near-death with a shattered knee and punctured lung, the omega was struggling to move for fear of laying still, and my mother could not focus upon defence as his hair was violently grasped and he, pulled to the ground. Swivelling, in difficulty he found his attacker to be red-headed; one Uzumaki laughing in amusement for the fall, caused by his own hand. With no words to cross, mother merely turned back to healing- only to find his patient having died for his brief absence.
In defeat for such a wasted death, he moved swiftly to the next, no pause for mourning. While in trial for the macerated ribs he had found, notice was taken for his figure, not in extensive as medical shinobi were regulatory within any clan; however, for the chakra he permeated, strengthened and burnful in radiance, most paramount being that it was indeed 'hot'- warm in aura. It granted attention amongst those who were not native unto the land, each scarlet eyes glancing unto the other in comprehension. While oblivious, my mother sat attempting to apply bandages to a man who would not still, all the while plan fermented in the grasping minds of the enemy.
As though quickened by the palm with precious root oil, it came understood to all -with the exception of fore attackers, that in opposing the Uzumaki a new goal was to be carried through. In wrapping the clotting arm of a wounded, once again my mother was grasped by his upsticking blond hair and torn away from his fellow omega; he had thought originally it was the same Uzumaki who had laughed previously. When instead it was a vision of the attacking clan, framed with long- deep-violet hair, spinning scarlet irises and a scowl that spoke for her inclination. The woman drug him behind the sway of her back robe, even as his scarred feet kicked out in a bid for freedom, his hands crawling at hers for want of escape, still, she gave him not a glance. Hissing, he tried to merely lesson the unyielding grip she beheld upon his hair, it was then that his own cerulean eyes drifted away, unto the port where their ships had set, long afore him and where they awaited, little and few, not for kidnapping, but a siege? In that same vein my mother could nary say he wanted to remain amongst his own, should an escape be opened, he would follow, yet there was much blood that day pouring from the metal, pooling in the crevices of dust and dirt, melting from the soldiers bodies; unto that, he wished to provide aid.
It became not an option as he was then thrown forward, ripping away blond from his skelp with blood falling onto his forehead, his elbow forcefully landing into the dirt and scraping away skin. By good comprehension, he was no longer being drug along by an ireful warrior, in worse understanding, as he stood it was to match against the six-foot leader of the Uchiha; glaring down upon him with steal encased crimson swirled eyes, tightly tied soot-blackened hair, and jowls of a firm scowl. That was only for a moment however, as by swift intervention, he was torn behind the Patriarch and defended from a slaying attack by one of the Uzumaki. He was gripped tight by his bicep and had no escape to make as one of his own clan sought to kill him; though he could name not the reasoning, especially as the Uchiha afore was indeed defending him from each blow while combatting with his own impressive offence. With a swirl of reddened hair the oppoint before them both was slashed from his through to stomach- and my mother screamed for terror of the gore presented; blood splayed upon his own chest and face for the motion, painting him as if in evidence for the death.
Then, he is faced once again by the stoic manner of the Uchiha -whom still gripped him tight by the arm. He spoke in fact, for a statement: "You have an exceptionally heated chakra, it shall prove useful unto my clan." My mother said nothing to the man, as confusion gripped tight unto his mind, he knew not if it were an offer or a threat presented, the new occurrence of a murder attempt made by his own clan had shifted his opinion; for in truth, while reviled, the Uzumaki had never before taken to slaying him as a solution to their ire. If proven useful to the Uchiha- would his situation be liked rather than abominated? He allowed himself to be pulled forth towards the awaiting ships. Though he knew his clan found despise with him for a birth defect; my mother did not know, neither did he understand that he possessed the Kyuubi within, but nor were the Uchiha aware; for they captured him as an Omega- not as a Jinjuuriki.
He was thrown aboard without resistance, taken for a value he knew not. It was the yells he heard across the bay, loud protestations of his own -declared clan, he was more hesitant because he did not know why he had been captured. Though, for the sake of oddity, he had noticed that he had only been 'kidnapped' after his own clan had assaulted him, indeed only he had been taken. So in his own explanation- he wondered if it was perhaps a type of escape. The clash of the roaring tide against the ship startled his mind, as glancing around found only scarce rations, few beds, and no chains, cages, or precautions for a prisoner- thus he wondered slightly if he had been taken only out of an abrupt decision. It was in risk, as in consideration, he could only imagine that the Uchiha had taken him for a purpose and should that be truthful, then he needn't stay within the boundaries of a clan which despised his very presence; thus, he set his back against the wooden boards, his knees at his chest with cerulean eyes peering around in uncertain curiosity, waiting for his captors to return.
.o0o.
Screaming echoed within his ears, for each pained whimper of those he did indeed know- but for his own protest to acknowledge their pain he focused instead on the blond of his hair, in attempt to braid as those few other children his age had done upon occasion in neat, tightly packed circles of friendship. It was while in the process of a twine that rows of persons began to board the boat, each covered in gore from various battles, their expressions all mild with satisfaction for their carnage. They each presented forth an intimidating posture, all persons boarding; because just as all those birthed within his clan were born Omega, within the Uchiha all those born were Alpha. My mother had nary seen the differing construct of the Patriarchal clan, but he was made aware that under such a biology would require outreach for their procreation, it had him pause in reckoning for his own circumstance; indeed he had to question, was he such a candidate? Tight against the wall of the ship, he pushed himself further into the wood for sudden apprehension. A discomforting heat poured from his abdomen, one which he found discomforting enough to quell for it had occurred only twice in previous, within extreme situations.
A man then came to speak to him; he whom my mother had met in previous, whom had guarded from the villainous attack from his own clan, his name was in fact Tajima, and he was the Patriarch of the Uchiha clan. His expression was stern, eyes neither narrowed nor open in sympathy, his arms were crossed and he crouched down to meet the low level of my mother's sit. "Do you understand why you are here?" Was his question, though not friendly, no malice was obvious in his words or patient wait. So a small head raised out of the protective divot of his knees, and blue irises glanced about to see many of the Uchiha glancing curiously towards their conversation, but not paying particular attention. Not trusting as it were, he only shook his head, his own assumptions not counting in his need for certainty. The Alpha nodded himself in comprehension, and answered with a steady, calming voice.
"You are here because you possess plentiful chakra, and quite warm chakra. Which we find necessary." In examplifaction, he stuck forth his hand and generated his own chakra into the palm in demonstration, it extruded a frigid, ice cold feel. While in comparison, when he had been younger my mother had found his own to be exceptionally hot, to the extent that none would wish to be near while he healed the wounded. It drew his attention, for within anyone a frigid chakra was not perilous, however, the Uchiha possessed the Sharingan which was indeed a heated energy, harboring both types of chakra within one body -and controlling them both- would be a remarkably painful burden. In shock for the comprehension, my mother in his healing mindset, grasped the hand before him and found it near frostbite in chill; he was granted touch, even as unexpectedly, he timidly touched the Patriarch's eyelid and found it burning in contrast. Realising his mistake he hid his hands away from sight, though the man afore him gave no indication of surprise or offense. "It would seem your family does not appreciate the value of your extensive chakra-" Therein, a glance towards his abdomen was made with raised eyebrows, but merely a glance before the Uchiha continued. "My clan would hold you in high regard, as an Omega you would, naturally, be betrothed to one of our Alphas; however you would not be taken as a burden and would be treated as a future member of our clan."
Before him Tajima stood, and though he was unsure of his escape, he did stand too.
.o0o.
Jiraiya stood, aching legs already in protest for his time saturated in a discomforting hospice chair. His voice grated for the amount of tale he had told while smoothly writing the legacy of his parents. A leg numb from crossing, as pains from his hands came through in his stretch from his frigid posturing, night had begun to fall over the valley and there were glimmers in the sky from the fading sun, in farewell the sanin bid his student with a pat on the shoulder and a glance back as he pulled away the sliding door.
It was evening, thus the corridor had no prominent activity, the echo of his footwear was loud in the hallway. Accompanied by the distant sound of heels came through, as the familiar warm chakra of Tsuande's presence became obvious, and he turned to look at her grim worn expression- accented by the red-rimmed alcohol lined eyes. Her hair was frazzled around her visage, her hands shook around the checkerboard she carried, the image of stoicism marred her; but Jiraiya said nothing for the sight. Indeed, he kept walking as she matched his pace, both in complete silence over the darkened corridor, and then even as they exited the building the last chill of winter's closing breath came upon them with a bite to the air. The snow had melted, but still neither of them were truly prepared for a cold evening outside, Tsunade pulled herself tight, her clipboard pressed tight against her bosom. Jiraiya in nye respect for his father's teachings nearly let down his hair from its binds, then refused for all the pained memory it incurred, and simply tightened the elastic.
There were clouds over the sky, but still glimmers of the stars shone through slightly and the moon peered through the gloom well enough for them to see each other's figure. One could see the Hokage pick at her lips with her teeth with hesitation, while the towering man waited for her to speak- playing absently with the hanging lengths of his hair, twinning them together without much consideration. His eyes were in fact on the trees surrounding, the shadows of their leafs coming forth with the new weather, as he attempted to remember some long-forgotten childhood knowledge, the revelation churning his chest with melancholy. Yet, while his lips obviously trembled for the cold and a speck caught in his eye for the liquid gathering there in sensitivity, his hands did not shake for the weather's bite. It was an emotional wavering which Tsunade had nary seen from her comrade, and in turn she did nothing to state the odd vulnerability. She instead took her own deepened breaths and took a step forward to the towering man, her fingers of reddened nails pressed against his arm, it stuttered momentarily from its already in-elegant braiding. The other was clasped as crusted mud over his story book in fear of it slipping or another stealing its precious content.
"Jiraiya, the truth is-" He stared upon her with apprehensive eyes, a wager already placed in and she found herself pausing for the sight. "-Naruto's chakra, well, Kyuubi overcame his natural original chakra and it has heated it extensively. Its exhausted his body trying to find a balance between the two. Frankly, we need, he needs, a cool demure chakra to balance out his own consistently in turn, otherwise his body will exhaust itself in trying to keep up and…" Jiraiya's own teeth cracked for the statement she paused in saying, for he already knew the fact she was withholding; for indeed it was nearly the exact problem his own clan quite privately faced for generations, merely in reverse. Ponderance had him seeking for an simplistic solution which might have been originated by his father's own brilliance in tactics. As his comrade continued with her dour news. "If we can't, consistently, cool his chakra down-" A burn pressed heavy down on his cheeks as he glared down at her, shaken away by his own want for rationality and he blinked rapidly staring down at the woman before him, protest already on his tongue, just as it had already been spinning underneath his eyes for a moment.
"Then I'll visit him more often, my chakra is very cold, it should balance him out at least slightly." For a moment he could feel the ice through his veins as he presented her with the most obvious solution he could grasp. Still, her brows turned sharply down for his statement, protest, as the arm that had been grasping his own travelled to her hip and she lent forward to unsuccessfully be more in his face.
"Jiraiya- I just told you this needs to be continual! Constant! As in, someone almost always needs to be by his side keeping his chakra at the right levels so he doesn't fall into a coma again! You- cannot do that." An ire almost formed within him for her plain protest, but instead a laugh escaped him, a booming loud laugh that let loose across the entire village. Unto those not himself, it would appear a mockery of the woman he called a comrade, yet indeed it was more a shame unto himself; as he recalled once again, that none, none -that he was aware- knew of his privatized status. For he in fact beheld the second known coldest chakra in all of Konohagakure, ever. A fact he maintained hidden from enemies in the still irate Iwa, to the grasping council, to the woman he had grown to appreciate in more then friendship; as necessity dictated. Tsunade was correct, but only in the truth that he could not do so forever, Naruto would need one of his own age to balance him out continuously.
"Then for now will have to do won't it?" It was late, and his urge to stomp his foot in defiance had him walking away rather then continuing the conversation. Although he knew a permanent solution would need to be found, sweeping fatigue had him walking away. Age was a horrific burden.