The cliffside had always given itself as a place of comfort, for decades continuing new generations to find resolution upon the stone. Naru had sat himself there, in a self made ignorance of the world below him, and a ponderance of his husband -his homepowa- coming forth to retrieve him. The wind forged the scent upon his tender nose, releasing over him a concept of forgery, an idea.

Therein, the Uchiha rose from his perch on the First Hokage's regal figurance and with a music heard only to himself made a dance which was taught upon him many a year ago by a gay young Uchiha Omega: In a home with a dented pan and a watchful Alpha faintly smiling within the corner, polishing her ōdachi. Faintly sparkling wood around him, and a caution in the air, his jumpsuit brightly contrasting against the colours of simplicity. His eyes were closed, yet the vision remained continual, a joy fuelling his movements at the sights before him. The door slammed open however, and Naori perched herself to kill the intruder, while Kou grabbed at the pan beside them.

Until: "Naruto!" His eyes snapped to realization and the visage of masked silver greeted him, instinct drove him then, the movements which he forgot to have learnt came to kill the Hatake before him. A recognition stopping himself, however, hardly. With eyes now open, he found himself nearly falling away from the edge of the monument, to death, Kakashi's arms the only held he had keeping him away from a certain death. A thanking gratitude formed on his tongue, alas, Naru found himself staring at the silver hair before him and pushing the man away.

"Get off me!" His own voice came out near a scream, frightened by the distrust he felt around a man he'd known all his life, his arms wrapping in comfort around his own frame. Yet, he stood in conflict glancing, staring, upon the man from the corner of his eye, watching for a brash movement in indication for attack despite his knowledge that it would not happen. The silver hair was refracting light in a subtle glimmer, familiar in memories, prior and after his son's birth, killing to survive. Though everything else was looking over him in recognition, Kakashi's mask, his eyes, pale skin, lopsided headband. Naruto found himself weakened at the simultaneous visions, wanting so desperately to cry, his restraint hurt. His own, orange-clad arms tightened around his figure, he looked again at the Hatake beside him, but his head hurt at the visage, and he could only stare at the green vest.

"Why don't we get you to Tsunade-sama." No question was asked in the suggestion, and no hand reached out to touch him, yet still Naruto knew he was being guided to the- woman's office. The pathway down unknown to his irises, the stairway a sight which he wished vacant. His legs, his feet dragged at him, longing to remain at the cliffside. But he forced a cooperation from his own wants, managing reluctantly to reach the Hokage building. Seeing for himself the appearance of altered, wrong, walls and yet, he expected to see a pinktailed Hashirama walk from one of the doorways, smile over to him, and gossip with him the new news within clans.

Alas, all he saw once walking through his own door was the sight of a blonde Omega, which for a moment he did not see as Tsunade. Hazel looked through him, as he imparted upon her a stoic stare fueled by the fear he was unwilling to showcase. She flicked her manicured, red nail bidding his escort away. Though her stare remained firmly fixated upon him in what Naruto knew to be questioning, he had seen it several times before after all.

"You were missing for several months Naruto. Team six found you in the Valley of The End, collapsed on the statue of Madara, eyes closed, severely affected by chakra depletion. But the question remains, where have you been?" He didn't have an answer plausible to relay upon her. So he waited for her to continue. "It has been suggested by some members of the council, and various citizens in high positions that you went rogue." The implication snapped his anger into place within his chest, and he looked away, breaking his stare to the right side wall.

Memories ran wild within his mind, screaming for freedom. Wishing for the sight of a ridiculous head of hair to come through the door, look at him, to smile hiddenly with his eyes, walk to his side, Jiraiya holding his father's hand before running directly into the skirt covered legs of his mother. Filled with burning cold empty emotions, he responded. "I don't know."

A sigh greeted him as silence filled the room. "Come in." She called, and rather uncaringly he glimpsed to the door. Watching as Yamanaka Ino entered, behind her a head of pink belonging to Haruno Sakura. Naruto did not bother himself to acknowledge them, starring instead at Tsunade, waiting for an explanation. "Naruto," she stood appearing to loom before him as a Hokage should, and he absently compared her to Hashirama whom still remained the tallest Omega he had ever seen.

"We have already probed your mind. However, many of your memories are sealed, kept from us by the Kyuubi it would seem. Still, Inoichi-san did find what he described as: 'quaking memories, and tidal thoughts, a deep fear of something.' That concerns me. We have not yet established your innocence Naruto, so I will be confining you to Konoha for the next two weeks, or until we can affirm your complete innocence and the intention of your leaving. Furthermore: you should be made aware that you have been charged under suspicion of murder by the council alongside their avid belief of your abandonment to Konoha and the Land of Fire." He twitched at the mention of murder, but forced himself to calm and do nothing further, remembering vividly a lesson Naori had imposed upon him, the telling of the council's perceptions biding him little surprise. "Despite that, what Inoichi-san said worries me, he is convinced that you were either tortured in some manner or forced into a grievous violence by your captors. A stance vidicating your innocence which I would love to take myself, but-" She gave him a brief smile, a megar tilt of her glossed lips, "I do not have the luxury of choosing where I stand in matters of state, I must remain neutral for the good of the village." That was when Ino moved forward, and Naruto tracked her movements, soothed in slight by the small smile she gave him before turning to face her Hokage. "However, under the recommendation of our own chief interrogation expert I will be assigning Yamanaka Ino as your counselor for the duration of this… process."

The confused -former- matriarch near gave in to his temptation of rejection, but under circumstances and the strict teaching of restraint from his experience as a mother and bride he held himself steady. Instead, he breathed as deeply as he might, and forced every limb in his body to act as Uzumaki Naruto. "Eh!? What about Sakura-chan?!" Only within his eyes did the reluctance show itself, blankly staring at the Senju before him, were he born an Uchiha rather then wedded into the role his irises would be in a swirling red.

To break the challenge not made Sakura moved herself forward, as Tsunade looked towards her student. "Sakura is with the Intelligence Team investigating the dead child found in your apartment Naruto. She is here to report to me their findings, that is all you may know." There was a very brief contest of wills, but Naruto found himself retreating under the pressure of brutalizing memories within his mind. "Ino will be serving as your guard as well as your counselor, thus you will be staying with her. Dismissed." Her nod shooed them both from the room as Sakura decorously made her report on progress, one which the Uchiha wished to overhear, but Ino's cast over turquoise eyes vanished the idea from his thoughts.

They met with Kakashi in the hall, positured and waiting with a book opened and one eye fixated on his student and the Yamanaka to follow him. A remembrance came to the depressed blonde then, stilled, watching his teacher in a quiet Ino would not comprehend. Then, despite himself, Naru raised his chin, staring -glaring to the blank, blackened eye resting upon him. For a moment baring upon him the stare so learnt by the days borne witness to Madara's most serious orders- Uchiha Naru glaring into the Hatake before him.

Uzumaki Naruto then came forth through a brightened, fully fashioned and joyful grin, eyelids completely and tightly closed. Speaking in a lively happiness befitting his personality without death, motherhood, and marriage inflicting upon him maturity. "You people killed Kou. You people tried to kill my son, my husband, my family! I hate you!" The grin fled, a scowl and ice irises infiltrated within the one eye before him. Naruto's body quaking in an emotion uncontained, deep encompassing the omega. Ino beside, took quick action while Kakashi had already put away his novel in readiness for an unwanted confrontation with his own student.


Madara sat inside, eyes primly focused upon the inked writings before him, a cup of sencha tea beside the scroll he read from. However, no knowledge reached to his thoughts as the report he stared upon was showing upon him as insignificant. In its stead posed a morale question onto his mind, confusing him as a shinobi -a warrior, and as a father it rendered him within the boundaries of depression.

To glance upon his questioning mind by the life he had lived, by that of his own childhood he found no similarity and little wisdom. By the vision of his own father and mother, bloodlines determined reliability, a belief upheld by his grandfather, great-grandfather, through generations of the main family for centuries. Madara knew himself to be the only one to break upon that traditional mistrust, the rebel of his own family. The problem upon his thoughts was the morality which he had learnt as a child was not relevant unto his own son. The teachings which he had upheld throughout his life as a warrior did not correspond with the life of a man inside Konoha, not properly.

Closing his eyes, he wished for his bride's ethical vision. Wished for Naru to explain upon their son the importance of life, the painful line between morality and the life of a shinobi. Madara raised himself from the table, crossing his room to look upon the portrait made recently as a burial gift from the Yamanaka Clan. An image displaying himself standing proud as a patriarch gunbai in hand. Beside him, stood Naru, his matriarch however, did not pose was a subservient omega. Instead, he leaned upon his homupowa with his back upon his arm and shoulder, both his fans opened and ready for battle while he looked to the viewer. A smile cresting his face rather then a challenging glare, smirk, or mocking express. Madara could not bare to hold his gaze to the painting for more then a minute, always casting his eyes elsewhere as emotions impede upon him.