Prologue: This is a collection of stories of different situation along the Naruto plot line and focuses on lesser known characters as well as history of what villains were doing while the series had started.

Aburame Shinto...

Dreamy Warrior

"This is the sacred rites of the Aburame clan, committed, as written on the wall scrolls hanging in their residence, to print.

Closest born to the present will be proclaimed heir to the clan. For the moment has substance, and too has virtue. How can good merit exist else- time? Memories of good merit told are in the defense of one's character, and promises of good merit told are in the promotion of one's character. In the moment, virtue is best. Subsequently, youth rules."

Vapor collected on the polarized ski goolges. A garroting on the mouth piece of the snorkel caused Shinto to shake off his snoring. He sat huddled over in the mist. Who had been opposing Shinto was a ninja belonging to The Mist Seven; he was in a mirror position to Shinto with the aid of a long blade angling into the ground and through his chest. A small hint of gurgling blood from his mouth was his only sound.

It was not soon after the battle until the scene scuttled with Hunter- nins to investigate. The dark green robed and masked unit checked the scene: S-Class ninja from Hidden Mist Village dead; unknown ninja sedated; letter attached to the unknown ninja. The one who noticed the letter opened it with a medical needle.

He spoke deep inside his belly: "Official Aburame clan business. Please sell my son a bag of milk. The cash is in the envelope."

"No one wants to read that," Shinto muttered in his slumber, "where's the action?"

"Luckily, he has finished off this member before Momochi Zabuza joined with him," one of them stated, "not that," he shifted his attention to a drop that shot out of a puddle in the dirt.

"Not that?" the man who took the letter requested but also saw this puddle that had drops prodding out and then splashing back.

"Should we leave this Aburame member with the sword," a female who made the final member of the Hunter-nins team pulled the wide and body length sword out of the body, "the head was all we need."

The drops of water of the puddle projected out as needles shattering the masks. The crack of the mask and bone trailed each other with not interlude of a scream. The two guys fell down. The woman knew she was in trouble and quickly lit the body to burn and took the head to retreat.

Haku arrived on the scene. His hair was shinny black with no fussiness. His whole appearance was clean. His eyes rested on the sword. He has heard about the Shishi-o.

"I've heard enough of you," Shinto sung in his dreams or whatever was in his head.

Haku recalled Zabuza had told him: "Tools are made to fit its piece. As a ninja, it is proper to fit your piece. The true shinobi knows it is such a tool. Revenge a death of a comrade, this is our piece."

"Shit." Haku faintly cursed. Pulling back the goolges, Haku found Shinto asleep. Pulling out a needle from his brown sleeves, Haku threw it and jumped away as he heard the sound of a yawn. Teeth chattered on metal as Haku stepped up to Shinto to see the needle. It was through the cheek he had not rolled on to and exiting slightly underneath the jaw. A shrug Haku let before releasing a thin stream of vomit. A wipe of the mouth with a sleeve produced three new needles now. Haku threw them and they ousted the guts of the pillow. "I had aimed for fatal areas."

A yawn and a clamp of metal gave his place away. Shinto lied against a rock.

Sleepwalker

"2) Before an heir of the Aburame is born, the father shall listen for the wisdom of Butsu. Buddha will give a speech to follow the clan's rites. Others who would hear of this practice will mention that this is the source of the Aburame's greatness. To avoid praise, do not speak a word of it; follow it."

Old Faithful, real name Aburame Shinto, was to be born five days later. As the rites go, his father, the Sage, was called by Buddha, as he has been from Shinto to Shino. It would not be a regular meeting place with Gongen, except in the case that it was a mountain and that was where commonly Gongens are by nature. What was so irregular about this location was that the Sage was afraid of heights. It would be half way up the mountain before he re-realized it.

His wife, Kiyo with her light red hair in her face, came into the kitchen so she could grind up her underwear in the blender. She was sleep walking, a condition in her kin. Like everything else in the world, it would have its own fighting style.

Kiyo promised him that she would not open her eyes until she saw him again. And that was what happened.

School Days

"3) When your contract begins with the destruction bugs, all personal memory should be stored in the bugs and all tactile and philosophy should fill the head. Do not restrain from using the bugs with the memories of being attacked or done wrong to as the front lines of battle. When this bug dies, the memory dies. This is the way to forgiving and forgetting.

Putting the hurt feelings behind you,

You send them to the front.

Releasing them to your adversary,

The opponent's sword does blunt."

Shino was five years old. He did not have a large coat but a white t- shirt. Today, in the forest clearing with a hive, Shino was going to become the heir. The Sage unfolded a piece of paper and coughed into his hand. Lying by his feet, Shinto pulled out a microphone stand and mike for their father.

"A guy walks into a bar and sustains a minor concussion. Well?" The Sage asked. The microphone pulled back into Shinto's coat. "That is all Buddha had to add. Into the nest."

The Sage pushed Shino into the nest. The display of arm waving and tiny hops could not correct him so he slid into the nest. The bugs swarmed him and the smell they released slowed him down as he gagged trying to crawl away from the nest. The Sage reached into a bag and pulled out a similar style jacket but grey. It was tossed into the mix.

"This is the first day of pre-academy," the Sage stated, "I give my regards to the death of your life if you fall short of reaching there."
The Trickster

"4) If a bug is filled with praise or punishment, upon neither should thrown away improperly. Known what to do with memories that require one to forgive and forget, now, know what to do with memories that hold praise. Seal them in a clay gourd and dare not let them escape. To release them, ensure that they will all die,

'Therefore the sage knows himself But does not display himself. He holds himself dear But does not honour himself. Thus he discards the latter and chooses the former.' Wrote Lao Tzu

This is the last thing to be released."

Haku caught onto one of the descending feathers. Crushing it in his fist, his fingers recoiled and exposed a red scratch on the top of palm from a broken stem. He sent a new needle that ricocheted off the old one as Shinto's head bobbed down to his chest. A mixture of blood and salvia dripped from the wound under Shinto's mouth.

Walking over to Shinto, Haku held onto Shinto's messy black hair and pulled the head back showing a small puncture in the chest through his purple cloak. Haku slowly pushed a needle into Shinto's shoulder. It would not wake him.

"He only reacts to fatal aim." Haku remarked. "However did he win against Yorimasa?"

"Present. I was at hand." The whiny voice said. A ten-gu stood and leaned on its toes. Its head was small with long sharp features. The nose littered with hair curved down to surpass its plum lower lip. It gave a sneer of warped teeth with his under-bite jaw. "One, you are young. Too, you are curious. Much action."

Haku repelled it with a needle thrown near its feet and the creature fell back on its awkward sandals. The white robe and red vest that covered with dirt was clean once it got back to its feet.

"No not try to trick me, ten-gu," Haku insisted. "I will vanquish you."

Haku ducked under the Shishi-o. Rising up, he saw that Shinto held the body length sword between himself and the ten-gu. He brushed some hair off his shoulders.

"Yorimasa," it drifted off carrying the name. "Nearest a week was when I first saw him. He rested upon my tree whetting his sword. Curse his mindlessness; he tested the blade upon my tree."

"I am sorry," Haku said, "for your lost and my lack of interest. Get to the important part." "I put his self on trial. No defendant showed up." It said at nodded. "I put him to a chore. Made him place his honour upon killing Shinto."