Creaking metal, obscuring mists, damning rains blocking sights and the vision of his son sneaking about as if he weren't six-foot, walking around the district with a hood perched over his head as if a decent convergence. Yet, making himself well as part of the environment, Naru felt his own chest warm in the joy he hadn't felt for many a week, smiling briefly in the considering that Madara had taught their son well, gazing at the tall man with a soft pride which had not made an appearance for many a year. While he himself had taken upon a disguise in avoidance from being recognized from the Akatsuki's knowledgeable visions, naturally in that inclusion Jiraiya's sights as well. He had cast his hair to the colour of Hashirama, and so removed his orange in maintaining a cover that would function, also banishing the whisker marks putting him in distinction. A safe masking that would obstruct his appearance well enough to avoid any thinking him a shinobi, nevermind of Konoha. They were within, what Naru could assume to be the least busy market district, scarce shops lined upon the edges of the bay.
Jiraiya had taken himself to the shop of a woman selling pork buns, presenting himself well and kind, dictating a gentle demeanour into provoking her into gifting information. Under caution, the Uchiha widow found himself sheltering into a corner where he may obstruct himself from any view possibly pierced into his direction by forthcoming want or accident. Regardless his body was well hidden by careful knowledge of the angles he was maintained under. Peeking from where he was given view to the image of his tall son by the shopkeeper, making certain to keep forth his practised training from his husband, Kou, and Naori in order to hold concealment. Naru acknowledged that persons -shinobi- of the present era were far more observant than those who lived amongst the village in his time after much experience in the new types of battles that so happened in modern times, despite the ongoing wars continuously cast in the surrounding forests of his own era and the warring clans whom still maintained battle far away.
As it stood his own son was highly regarded among near all shinobi, extremely capable of guarding his own flank. However, the young mother stood particularly wary of this mission; it was to find and possibly defeat the leader of the Akatsuki to his knowledge. Such risk placed his mind in a constant dance of ill-ease, putting forth all maternal instinct he had accumulated into a panic which he could not appear to settle. He had contemplated under brief thought, on if Madara had stood beside him during his frothing dread then perhaps the man would have held the capability to stop his drastic and reckless action of following their fully grown son into a place of impending danger implicating unto himself. Were it possible, Naru would have cast his homupowa into the Village of the Rain as opposed to Jiraiya. Without hesitance.
The demeanour of the woman was welcome after Naru noticed his son speaking of a magazine, a clever tactic he took note of as he watched. Though his eyes became squinted as he took closer observance of the manner in which everyone cast their eyes after one astray comment. Upon his own information, he knew little of the pouring place, save the rain showers proving themselves marginally continual and the cuisine remaining highly traditionalized. Yet, the strange reception gathered after his son had taken to mentioning Hanzo of the Salamander was odd, Naru himself knew little of the rather infamous leader, however, he had heard scrappings previous to his disappearance, all of which were quite peculiar in their nature.
After settling himself within a disclosed sweetshop he managed to ponder minimally while watching his son's movements at the front. Both he and Jiraiya ordered a serving of Sencha Green Dango, as they considered their options in how to proceed with the mission. While the matriarch knew his own mission was by technicality watching his child and making certain no harm came upon him -or indeed blocking him from unavoided danger, he was still maintaining a delicate cover in hopes of aiding with the covert task. He bit upon his dango, there would be no simple method to reach to such a widely regarded leader, especially whence he knew not -or rather they knew not- the particular locale the man was stationed within.
To glance his eyes forward and find no outstanding piece of white hair was a large detriment unto him, and he bolted upwards near jounin speed before recalling himself. Exiting the shop, and keeping a restraint manner he forced himself to observe as he had been taught and found his eyes locked upon a 'Makeout Club Battle' wherein he knew the Uchiha Alpha would not be able to resist himself from. Uchiha Naru pinched at his nose very intently, feeling a sudden, large, urge to punch his own child over the head with a frying pan, much like he had learnt from Kou's skilled fingers.
While the meager hope he pertained was that his own husband had not been the one to pass on perversion to their son.
Nevertheless, he shook himself fully and perched on the roof, avoiding any eyesight that may astray upon him. He required to see where Jiraiya went after leaving, the likelihood remained -despite his perverse nature- that he was gathering a form of information from one of the Omega's within. As it stood, being an Omega he would be unable to enter without considerable attention drawn unto him thusly -and being as only Alpha's were allowed within, he would need to remain above or in a good vantage point to the side wherein he could see from many possible angles. Naturally, the roof posed the best advantage unto his vision.
A large metal door opened to outstep a reasonably busty woman grabbing a letter, in order to keep himself at best advantage he split himself into three further clones -obscured by the rain, he fathomed. Then began to watch from each separate side, himself keeping sight on the woman down below. Her face was distorted by frustration, while her steps were large and stomped, agitation clearly depicted, all the same as she threw the letter away. Who turned out to be his son maintaining a well placed henge.
Naru began to follow the quick retreat he jumped within.
A moment halted him swiftly however, with the sudden upcomence of a kunai flying upon his nose. Gentle in nature it so happened, a voice speaking unto him with a mellow deepened pitch- speaking upon him his own name. One pitch the Uchiha matriarch recognized with an understanding that shook him forward in shock, having his legs collapse from beneath him, near slamming onto the concrete below. Naru pressed himself up and around with a speed matching that of his old comrade Tobirama. To find the vision of nothing about him, no one, there remained no voices surrounding, nor the repeat of his own name cast by his husband's gentle deep monotone.
With aggravation circling his thoughts, and the consideration of a possible delusion upon his mind, he forces his legs to jump forth and away. In successive pace to Jiraiya's destination, best he may reach with a distraction having taken his own minimal priority as if he were a simplistic genin. He wondered if he should draw his son's attention, and make the mission one of two, it was possible that his aid would benefit his son in sizable standard. Yet, Naru knew that should he do so, he as Uzumaki Naruto would be a fathomless disguise to Jiraiya. Perhaps the sanin would not comprehend him fully as Uchiha Naru: His mother, alas, the compromise would be great.
No, he chose, it would be a best decision to wait until his son had managed to get into a serious situation, as it were, the most information he could retrieve as palpable would be the most beneficial unto Konoha. Therein, to wait would be his only option, despite the urge dragging his feet forward to interfere, under protective instinct such as parental need that he could not heed to. Yet, to watch the capture so carefully constructed and to acknowledge that it would be his child conducting an interrogation hurt upon his still fragile soul. While entering the bar was that which he could not do in possible choice, a clone would be able without issue, he himself standing outside in watch. Thus, that was what he performed, sending the copy with the simplest instruction, hoping to be taken as an astray customer wanting a drink, rather then a shinobi monitoring the proceedings, he knew not how open his son would be to such a construct.
The air was stuffed by the scent of a frog sitting in the open sun far too long toasting herself in the rays near the water. Naru knew it well enough, and welcomed it as a comfort rather then an odor, of course, it had been several years since he had last breathed upon it; thus it took him quite a few moments to himself before he could take in the atmosphere with ease.
But of course, he kept himself outside in caution. Observing those who passed by him with a careful practised eye, already knowing they were watching him too, but their stares were of suspicion for motive, while his own was observance in monitoring. It was a marginal curiosity if they could look upon him and find a telling of his history, as any pracised shinobi of talent would. As it stood, he already had, without taking a glimpse of his own manner, Naru knew where he resonated of the past, but pondered if it were an obvious telling onto those of a differing origin such as the Village of Rain.
As he watched the building return to itself once more, he contemplated absently: if Jiraiya resented his father for his betrayal. Along that same ponderance, he wondered: if he himself could hate his husband for his actions. A gentle smile cast itself upon him in a faint whisper of melancholy, as he considered, the truth. It was plain fact, he had always known what his husband was destined upon, done nothing, and hadn't cared as their time together grew. Yet, he had still married the man with fever, kissed him in passion, and had a child without preamble. The truth lay, that he'd not looked upon in care, at any point, regardless of his previous knowledge sitting upon him the entire time.
Waiting was something which he had never taken too well. Not whence awaiting his pregnancies to finish, nor his wedding to come, not awaiting returning home when he thought he would upon first arriving within the oldened Konoha. As it were, patience while sitting for Jiraiya to finish his questioning burned upon him in more resonance. He began to pace, his chest had begun to sting in concern, as it were, he was already taken by maternal instinct, and wished for Madara to appear beside him, perhaps Naori even.
It was then that he realized that his clone had been dispersed and the feeling shocked itself into him in understanding. Quickly, he looked about him in order to find a hint of his son making an exit from the water. The worry he held became possessed under a stronger nature at that moment, he knew that risk had mounted more-so as time continued to pass. An ancient Uchiha technique came unto his mind, however, it was unlikely to function within such a time, perhaps even not on Jiraiya whom did not carry his clan name or indeed those of his own parents.
Nonetheless, he began as subtly as he might within a crowd; the jutsu that would allow him to trace his family as designed by his clan. Especially perfect for any child harbouring his own relation, and Jiraiya in particular as his personality was that of his mother to near-exact accuracy, while with the exception of his skin tanned under the sun, he had almost precisely his father's appearance. However, he had noticed that the man would develop Madara's serious nature should the situation require a firm or steady hand, indeed, Naruto wondered how he hadn't seen Jiraiya's similarity to his father much previous to now. In response to his own protective worry, Naruto could only take to the feverant praying that the so-called 'wise' sanin would do nothing pertaining to his mother's persona or indeed his godmother's.
The trace found him betwixt the crevice of two buildings, which became his immediate destination. There were many things he was unprepared for, should he witness his son anything other then alive Naru knew he would not be able to survive such a circumstance. As it stood before him in clear comprehension, he had already lost his husband in more way then simply one, all the friendships he had developed about the village he had known; now he was placed once more as Uzumaki Naruto despised within his own village. It was a place he had never thought he'd deal with again. The blessing he held was the son he had only just found to be alive.
There came a cracking sound before him though, large and encompassing, the bursting of metal. Mud-jump, it did so directly in front of his vision, while a man of considerable size appeared from the gap. Orange hair, and many piercings coving his face which Naruto found quite unappealing.
Concerning him, however, to the point wherein no slyful remark came from his lips, the rinnegan sat proudly within his eyes. It was one among few rare dojutsu that Madara had mentioned in occurrences so infrequent Naru could recall only three in total. The Patriarch had only a glimmer of interest in his own bloodline, and upon unique circumstance, he would praise the Senju, perhaps the bakugan should find it intriguing. To see it before him, a piece of history older then himself, to look upon it as such he found strange. Being as it was not possessing the same ability as a Sharingan, his eyes pierced the pupil immediately before casting away to his neck and shoulders as a point of movement monitoring.
From his own observance, the man was a hefty one with large muscles and likely a keen ability to bash his opponent. It was then that Naru chose to fight him without a direct confrontation, while his taijutsu could be significantly well managed, to use it in combat against a man with concerning physical mass would be a dangerous game to attempt. Thus, he prepared himself for a battle of ninjutsu, in a willful mindset that it would be quickly paced so that he may reach Jiraiya with minimal hassle. Beginning firstly by withdrawing his fans, and casting a tormental burst of air from them -in a keen reminder upon himself of Temari. Working well enough to destabilize him enough to near throw him off the metal beam he stood upon. Which was why, in a desperate bid to ignore his own morality, he cut as quickly as he may to kill the man.
However, as he did so, the man raised his arm, a barrier appearing to surround him. Wherein, while he knew his attack would have properly reached him, it did not, and thus disappeared in a manner Naru had yet to see in previous experience. Even while having faced the Kiniki clan, it was an oddity he was not familiar with. Staring unto it, nothing of his knowledge came to mind, nothing Madara had spoken of in revarance, or Hashirama had warned of in memory, Tobirama had said nothing of it in jealousy. It was strange to witness, and recognize so little.
The rinnegan would have to be the parent jutsu of such a technique he fathomed.
He backed from the battle slightly, were he to find knowledge as to the jutsu so oddly used, it would require his jumping forward head first into the fight with a rasengan.
As such, he prepped the attack as best he may within limited time. Though, he acknowledged he needed not much for the sphere as it was not intent to hit.
He neither expected it to miss entirely by means of absorption. Which is whence he decided to switch unto using his fans as near kunai, beginning by launching senbon from the tips at first chance. The risk still ledged upon him grossly, however it was dismissed by his own large understanding of close combat from past experience.
Carefully, he avoided any ninjutsu, as opposition to his own tactic mere moments ago. Attempting to maintain himself under the necessary regularity of the taijutsu he had learnt of his fans, and producing only clones to aid rather then any jutsu he may wish for. The situation granted him favour, as the man appeared reluctant to do anything other then absorbing chakra. It was despite himself that he directed the fans to a cutting motion through the individual's flesh.
As it were, he had already found killing a stain upon his soul, the Hatake had been a sin unto him ripping into his soul within the most hurtful way. Screaming into him as memories, wishing in desperation that Madara and Jiraiya had found out nothing from that day.
The man fell.
The Uchiha watched very closely as he did.
Then sprinted forward to the destination he knew his son to be in.
He stood.
Very still.
Very uncertain.
Disbelieving that reality was where he remained.
Jiraiya was before him, standing still just as he so did.
Whitened hair was stuck backward stained in blood he knew to be real.
Gaping eyes were looking within him.
Screaming, he was screaming he was certain. Shrieking.
His own eyes were burning, his irises had changed, his pupils were linear.
Madara was gone.
His husband could not burn him to death.
He had managed to rip it away, to shake before the sight to stare in uncertainty, to look closely in apprehension.
His fist had punched through Jiraiya's chest.
His son fell to knees of incomprehension, black eyes he knew looked inside him as he became short. Naruto was still screaming as his child collapsed face first.
Minutes he stared, bleak, kyuubi steered.
…. In watching however, he noticed. Minimally, marginally, his hair was moving with his back; Jiraiya was breathing.
