A/N: Sup guys. Been a while, huh? I haven't been active recently cause of school, lung cancer, depression, substance abuse and insomnia— just kidding on like two of them— but anyways I'm back. I'll explain in more detail down below why I haven't been active (lost all hope in getting my files back :'(...)and the like. Thanks for all the messages and support. Hot damn. Writer's block. *Clears throat* But I've been a bit inspired lately after those private messages and reviews (HOLY SH!T PEOPLE DO CARE?).

HOLY SH!T I CARE?

Anyways, thanks for supporting me during this rocky road.

KABAM!


Chronicles of the White Fang

Chapter Six

-Beginning-


"If you do not experience anything, it is impossible to gain knowledge." - proverb


Sakumo walked after Kagami and Hiruzen, who lead the front, while Danzo, Torifu, Koharu, and Mitokado loomed further behind. Everyone was cheerfully conversing with one another, except for Danzo, who seemed to be uncomfortably quiet behind him. When they reached the door that lead to the first floor, Sakumo stuttered in his step when he noticed the Nidaime speaking in a low voice to the two Chunin at the front desk.

It was all business, one that the Chunin looked chastised for.

The Nidaime glanced to his students before his gaze traveled lower towards Sakumo. "Child, come here."

Sakumo had no choice but to obey. He let himself be heaved into the Nidaime's arms, and he hugged his toy wolf, knowing full well what would happen next.

The Nidaime gave a cold glance to his students. "Your next missions are awaiting you at the mission roster. Make sure to pack appropriately this time." His gaze strayed to Torifu, who merely gave a sheepish grin in return.

"Hey! Those dull protein bars get boring after a while," Kagami defended.

"I'll make sure to restrict myself to only salted chips from now on, sensei." Torifu gave a lazy salute while Kagami and Hiruzen gave the Akimichi a knowing grin.

"Tori, you liar," Hiruzen chuckled.

The Nidaime gave a heavy sigh. One that seemed to be familiar when dealing with his students. "I'm going to take a well needed break from you lot," his voice was ice cold, but something underneath it seemed to be. . . reluctant adoration. The Nidaime disappeared from their eyes in a silver and blue flash before he appeared in the middle of a forest in front of an old traditional house that had the Senju insignia in the front.

The Nidaime settled Sakumo on the ground before he moved forward in confident strides.

"This is the Senju compound?"

The Nidaime glanced to him before he paused to give the Senju insignia a studying look. "Back when Konoha was founded, Hashirama encouraged the Senju clan to not build their houses to form a compound like the other clans. The Senju clan became the only clan to not form barriers around their neighborhood. They married into civilian families. Lost their names through marriage or through war, but there are still some who carry the Senju name. They just do not make a statement of it."

"This house. . ." Sakumo began.

"Was my home," The Nidaime finished. Sakumo didn't dare question the use of past tense.

The door creaked open slowly and dust rose from the wooden surface of the foyer. Sakumo wrinkled his nose, hoping to endure it, but in the end he gave into a fit of coughs. He hugged the toy wolf tighter and began to back away, waving his hand in front of him as if that would make the thick layer of dust vanish from his sight.

However, his movement had him backing straight against the Nidaime Hokage's legs. He glanced up to see the solemn gaze of the man who now claimed himself to be his warden.

"You will be living here." The Nidaime moved around Sakumo and began to pad into the house without taking his shoes off. Sakumo hesitantly followed around him, moving around the clutter of stacked books and papers. Sakumo passed by a couple of rooms with shelves upon shelves of books and crinkled scrolls. The tables, too, were cluttered with half opened scrolls, half scrawled notes and dried up ink bottles. The smell of the house was what Sakumo imagined ancient libraries smelling like. Sealed libraries where humans haven't walked into for thousands of years. Stale and old, but pleasant at the same time.

At the end of the hall the Nidaime slid a paper door open to reveal a bedroom. It was completely empty except for the table in the middle of the room with a single, unlit lantern.

"This will be your bedroom." The Nidaime crossed the room and pulled aside the paper screen door to reveal the small clearing and the vast forest around. "This will be your training grounds."

Sakumo blinked.

"Do you have any questions?"

Sakumo nodded.

The Nidaime narrowed his gaze. "Then speak up, child."

"I'm allowed to train?" Sakumo asked. His voice was quiet, and his throat was parched. Every syllable was like a scratch to his vocal cords.

"As your warden, I grant you the privilege to train to prove yourself to be a loyal shinobi of the leaf. However, as a refugee in times of war, the council denied my proposal in giving you the privilege to train with your generation and fellow, future teammates. This has been mostly decided through the biased and traditional mindset of the clansmen and women who want to protect their children from foreign culture."

Sakumo blinked in confusion.

"In other words," the Nidaime began, eyebrow twitching, "you may train privately under my guidance and take the genin test when you're ready to become a shinobi of the leaf. You may not train in the academy among those your own age."

"I don't care," Sakumo admitted. "I don't like people my age."

The Nidaime took a moment of silence as a he stared at Sakumo before he nodded towards the table. "Unseal what you have in your arm," he ordered.

Sakumo hesitated, only for a moment, but he ultimately decided that it was better to do as the Nidaime said. The man could kill him in a heartbeat. He could've killed him at any moment, but he decided to keep Sakumo around. Fight for him and give him a chance to live. If anything, the Nidaime was giving him a chance to find loyalty in something again.

He pushed the sleeve of his arm to his elbow, and then he touched the ink on his skin. A little bit of chakra was pushed into the skin, and suddenly, the ink glowed before books and paper began to fly out everywhere.

When the seal faded to nothing, all that was left behind were scattered books across the ground. He felt the heat creep to his cheeks, but he still held the Nidaime's critical stare.

"Other then forgetting to balance the consistency of weight in space, you've done a better job than the average sealer. It could either be through beginner's luck or through a steady hand. We'll see soon enough." The Nidaime nodded for Sakumo to follow him into the clearing.

"You're not. . . going to ask where I got these books?"

"I'm sure your mother found ways to get them for you. What matters is what you know now." The Nidaime turned so that he was facing him after putting a good enough distance between them.

"Now?" Sakumo flinched when a kunai landed in front of him. It was dug deep into the dirt, and Sakumo glanced up, intimidated by the fact that he didn't even catch the Nidaime throwing it. Much less reaching for it.

"Now." the Nidaime tilted his head slightly. His stance was relaxed, but his eyes were sharp. "Come at me with the intent to kill."

Sakumo's gaze moved to the kunai. He doubted he could kill this man with the basic knowledge he had, but he would die trying.

He grasped the kunai and pulled it from the soil. Then he charged. His movements felt slow. Weak. The Nidaime merely had to lift his leg and swipe it to the side and right under Sakumo's feet. He fell onto his back and rolled to the side when the man stomped his foot down on the spot where he had just been laying.

Sakumo struggled to his feet, but as soon as he found balance, he was sent flying five feet back. He crashed onto the ground harshly and watched as the kunai cluttered a few feet away from him. If not close distance then. . . . Sakumo rushed for the kunai, took hold, and sent it flying towards the Nidaime's direction.

All it took was a simple movement of his head to the side to avoid getting hit.

"Your accuracy in throwing is weak, but you have a good eye. However, hitting a moving target is harder." The Nidaime appeared before Sakumo and pinned him to the floor with a foot against his back.

The Nidaime crossed his arms. "You have a lot of work to do. First you will start in stretches. Then in meditation."

Sakumo frowned. "What about ninjutsu? What about taijutsu?"

"You must build your way to that and start where everyone starts: from the bottom up."

"But what will stretches and meditation do for me?" Sakumo persisted.

"Refrain from asking me questions you have the ability of finding yourself. You must learn to critically read and think for yourself if you want to become a strong shinobi." The Nidaime's gaze shifted from Sakumo to the bedroom behind him. "Read those books. That is where you must begin." With that, the Nidaime disappeared from his sight.

Sakumo glared at the spot where the Nidaime had been and moved towards the bedroom where he began to gather his books and stack them on the table in a neatly fashion.

Find the answers himself, the Nidaime had said. What was the point of having a teacher if he wasn't going to even bother to explain simple knowledge that he had to read for hours in order to find. Maybe that was the point. After all, the Nidaime had said it himself, but Sakumo was impatient. He tapped his finger against the wooden surface of the table as he read.

He didn't know how many hours passed, but with every minute that passed, the book titled, Yin and Yang, grew shorter and shorter in pages that he had to read. Finally, he snapped the book closed in a thoughtful, distracted way. Carefully, he placed it to the side and glanced to the forest where the light of the sunset was peaking through the small gaps between the evergreen.

The art of the shinobi. It was something that should be honed and nurtured from a young age, and it started with chakra: the essence of life; the two portions of energy were made up of yin and yang.

Yin. The spiritual portion of chakra. It was chakra from consciousness that produced more chakra when anything imaginative came to mind; such as, studying, meditating, and experiencing. This builds chakra in the Yin energy. Those who had high Yin chakra were more powerful in Genjutsu or Fuinjutsu. They were jutsu that required power of the mind rather than physical power. The Yang chakra was the physical portion that could be increased through stimulation, training, and exercising. When this chakra was produced more than the Yin, it would increase stamina and endurance. Those who had higher Yang chakra were more likely skilled in Taijutsu. Ninjutsu was a balance of both consciousness and physical stimulation.

The art of the shinobi was to hone both at a young age.

It didn't start with ninjutsu. It didn't start with taijutsu or fuinjutsu.

It started with meditating to build spiritual chakra.

It started with stretching to build physical chakra.

The energy practiced in both was to gain a better understanding and better control of the use of chakra. In meditating, he would gain a better understanding of chakra in himself and in nature. He could sense the imbalance in himself and through that, learn where to build and where to practice more. In stretching, he would warm his limbs and work out his body to be able to keep up with the control of his chakra. At the end of the day, it wouldn't matter if he was able to sense an enemy coming at him from a blind spot unless his body was able to deflect the enemy's attack. His body had to keep up with the sharpness of his consciousness.

He settled his mind once the knowledge was processed, and he stayed still.

He didn't know how long. Every time his body began to sink into the lull of relaxation, he would tense. It was as if the physical energy, his yang, was pulling him back into reality, like a knee jerk reaction he would get in his sleep late into the night. It took a couple tries. Many. it wasn't until the 20th, perhaps the 30th, that he finally gave in.

His mind swooped away. Mentally giving into the silence.

But it was a different kind of silence. A peaceful one.

It was as if he was submerged in water and the noise around him was like a faint, comfortable buzz. Then, the noise rushed forward. It became sharper. It became more louder. It was as if he was rising to the surface and hearing everything in a new light.

The birds chirping, but it wasn't just an awareness of the birds chirping. It was an awareness of the four birds singing in the tree five meters to the right from where he was facing. He heard the fluttering of wings. The noises neared. They grew closer and closer. The brush of feathers touched his skin. His eyes opened, and it was as if his mind was reeling back into his body like an elastic band snapping back.

The birds fluttered away, perhaps, feeling the shock as well.

Sakumo blinked and glanced down to the dampness on his wrist. Bird poop. He wiped it against his clothes with a grimace, then he paused during his movements when he felt something- His head snapped up. Eyes grew wide.

"Lady. . . Mito?" He glanced up to see those pretty lilac eyes on him. They were an odd purple. They shined like steel, cold and calculative, but still warm in color. She wore a pretty white kimono, and she sat straight with her hands before her in a proper way. However, no matter how much she looked like a princess rather than a shinobi, he knew better. The senbon pinning her hair up and the tagged seals hanging like a ticking bomb testified against that. So did the scars that littered her hands like trails on a map. The white raised bumps that were a lighter color than her skin told stories of how she got to the place where she was today.

"You've been meditating," she stated.

Sakumo nodded. The woman before him was just as imposing as the Nidaime, so he didn't want to say anything that would offend her.

"Eat, young one." She gestured to the food settled before him. "Don't worry. The soup is still hot."

Sakumo lifted his chopsticks and inhaled the scent of the ramen. "I don't mind cold soup." Back home, his mother couldn't afford to waste too much firewood since resources were limited on dry wood, so sometimes, when he came late for dinner, the food would already be cold.

Sakumo scanned the little seal on the side. "This is what keeps it warm. A concentrated symbol of fire balanced to a certain temperature." He studied the symbols further. "You use the Uzumaki symbol in the middle. Why is the symbol necessary in the component of a seal?"

She smiled. "What a sharp mind you have there." She lifted her hand and placed one simple fingertip on the wooden surface of his table. When she moved her hand away, a seal was formed in its place. A different one with the Uzumaki symbol in the middle. "Fuinjutsu is a tricky ability. It is only as strong and only as powerful as the imagination, but the best thing about fuinjutsu and seals is that it could be made in a way where it can't be replicated by someone besides its creator. With the Uzumaki symbol, I reveal to other users that my seals cannot be deactivated without Uzumaki blood. More specifically, without my blood. My children, my grandchildren, and my grandchildren's children may replicate, activate or deactivate my seals, but no one else can. If they do, they die. There is a loophole around it though. One that can be achieved by another fuinjutsu master."

"What's the loophole?" Sakumo asked, captivated by her teachings.

"The loophole is making the seal your own."

Sakumo scrunched his nose before he sucked in more of his noodles.

Lady Mito laughed. "Originality is a tricky thing. There are ways to express thoughts, ideas, concepts, and philosophies differently than your peers, but the actual subject upon which these are based on are not original." Her hand lifted and dug underneath her covered chest before she pulled out a necklace. It was a pretty blue crystal that shined at different angles, bouncing off the light in a beautiful, mesmerizing way. "We simply take old ideas." She placed the crystal above her eye. "And shine them through a new gem. We give them a turn, and we make new, curious combinations. We shine and turn the gem indefinitely and create newer combinations, generation after generation, but they are the same old pieces of colored glass. When the generation dies too early. . . those old pieces of colored glass die with them and become lost. Forever."

"Influence." Sakumo blinked and gave a small smile. "I derive the basic components of your seal and make my own version of it."

Lady Mito smiled. "Sharp mind, indeed." She glanced off to the side and began to brush the spines of the stacked books on the table. "I await the day you become a strong shinobi, Sakumo. One that will influence many lives, become part of many tales, and change the world into a better place."

Sakumo smiled. "You believe in me?"

The gaze she sent his way was warm before she looked out towards the darkness of the forest. "One more time," she whispered. Something about her expression had Sakumo glancing towards where she was staring. The scenery hadn't seemed so sad before. She looked back to him with a crippling smile. It was one that had him tensing in anticipation. "Did you know that I have a granddaughter?"

He shook his head.

"Tsunade is her name," she mentioned. "You see, Hashirama and I, we hoped to have many children. A big family, and we did, but the life of a shinobi is hard. Merciless. We have children at a young age and as a village, we hone children to be shinobi. It almost feels like. . . we're still in the age we grew up in. This time it's more subtle. This time we hold deeper values, but what are values in the face of unethical practices, such as, raising child soldiers and sending them off to fend for themselves. . ."

"Are your children all dead?" Sakumo bluntly asked.

She didn't flinch at his words, but she merely answered as nonchalantly as he asked, "Yes. They all died at a young age. The one who lived the longest and who had Tsunade was my daughter, Itsuko. Hashirama and my daughter were two of the many casualties during Hashirama's final battle against the Kumogakure force."

Sakumo held his curious tongue at the mention of that. He knew that Hashirama had died only a year ago through rumors, but the specifics of how he died were left unsaid. "My mother died protecting me from Mu. She summoned the Nidaime Hokage." Sakumo glanced down at his hands. "I wanted to die with my kasan, but I didn't." Lady Mito met his solemn gaze. "I decided after. . . when my time truly comes, it'll be on my own terms-"

Lady Mito chuckled. "Death is sudden. It can't be decided on one's own terms, young one."

Sakumo held her stare and narrowed his eyes. Blood. His mother's smile. The fading seal on her skin. The Nidaime standing before him. All these vivid memories were in the back of his mind, fueling his words as he asked, "how can you be so sure?"

Lady Mito smiled, as if she understood all along, and bowed her head in acceptance. "One more time, indeed."


So I decided to give it another try. One more time, right?

My sob story is that my laptop overheated many many years ago (damn asus) Why do they call em laptops if they overheat on your lap so easily!? HM? Why? Still not over it. . . I had about 30 chapters pre-written. 30. THIRTY. But I only had nineteen posted, and so I was like, you know what, how about I take em all down and edit them to show more character development because the plot seemed a bit rushed there. YA KNOW WHAT I MEAN DAY ONE READERS?

Not that my readers cared, but like, I'm a paranoid perfectionist with a short attention span, ya know?

So I took the nineteen chapters down and started editing them because, whew, I'd like to think I'm a good writer, but whew, editing man. Anyways, all the chapters were all saved in a neat little folder, and so when my laptop overheated and like shut down on me, I went to a top tier professional to fix the thingy. Once he fixed the thingy he warned me that the files might be corrupted and gone unless I saved them in an external hard drive.

I was like, "Please God No!"

And the top tier professional was right.

All my thirty chapters were corrupted and everything was destroyed. I was so sad. It put me into a deep chronic depression. Just playing, but yeah, I was depressed for a while. Mental illness is no joke, but I feel better now. I might not tomorrow, but hey, at least the entire story outline I had written down for this story when I was like 15 is alive and kicking. I am also alive and kicking. I got a laptop from Apple . i 'le top, and an external hard drive . And you guys.

Thanks for the reviews. The private messages. The nice ones and even the mean ones. Thank you all. If I haven't answered, paranoid perfectionist with a short attention span, who thinks they're a perfectionist, but really they're not, remember?

Enjoy the rocky road.

Also, if ya wanna read a better story than this, go read Dreaming of Sunshine. That shits fire.