A/N: Quick reminder, so you don't have to revisit chapter 9— Satsuki tells Naruto that they're there to negotiate, and that murder is only the final option, to be undertaken only if Kaiza doesn't stand down. This explains his desperation to try and get Kaiza to listen to reason in the first half of this scene. If you don't skip the prose (I recommend not skipping it, here or anywhere else), then you'll see that his attitude is more in favour of the man than against.

Chapter 12

There were men, he had heard, who were so enamoured with a subset of ideals, that life to them was best lived ascetically— they developed a hermetic lifestyle, and piece by piece gave themselves up, so their cause would prosper. He had heard of these men of myth, these men of yore, these deities who in their determination hewed a fresh trail in a woodland; who vaulted the heavens and brought from there a flame for men; who fought the gods to a stalemate, and were so utterly obstinate, that they fragmented reality, reshaped it to their will.

As they stood there and argued in the dark, and as Kaiza, in tandem with the elongating shadows, grew larger than life, Naruto had an inkling that this was one such man of myth.

And all he wanted to do was deck him in the face and break his jaw.

"Listen here, you shithead," he growled; "I dunno what hopium you've inhaled, but I'm telling you— give this up."

The man furnished him with a tolerant smile, which was suffused with kindness. He had sporadically been smiling that way for the last ten minutes, and it grated like Hell, because Naruto in equal parts admired and envied it, while also loathing it. This was a deity— this was a deluded man— this was a man with death writ in bright red font on his forehead— and this was a man who did not care — he did not fucking care.

"There is an injustice happening before my eyes," Kaiza said, "and I refuse to make my peace with it."

"Don't you see how fucking pointless this is? You can live, man. Just let this go, and he'll even give you back everything."

"I appreciate your concern, Uzumaki-san. But Gato cannot bring back the people he killed, nor do we trust him to keep his word. Men like him are fickle. No, not just fickle— evil. We'd rather die than remain silent and submit to the likes of him."

This was delivered with a determined gleam in the eye.

Naruto choked back a helpless laugh. He felt hysteria building at the back of his brain: any moment now it would pour out, a profusion, a torrent; and with it would tumble out the confession of just how he admired this man and his audacity; how liked the place, how adored Shiho, how sympathized with the people here and saw in their fate his own.

A confession that would lead nowhere. One that would only prolong everyone's suffering.

"There ain't no rather," he choked out, heaving back the strain of sentiment. "You ain't being given a choice here, hero. It'll take one second to break your neck. This ain't no resistance— it's a massacre. It's over. It's done. Pack it up. The second we got involved y'all were finished. So please. Please. For the love of God, stop this bridge of yours. I'm begging you. I don't want another man's blood on my hands."

There was something akin to disappointment in Kaiza's demeanour. His face fell; his hands tightened around his walking stick; he stopped altogether and sighed, looked at the unfinished bridge and sighed again.

"Then I'm sorry to say we must part ways here, because I don't want the blood of thousands on mine either."

"Fuck's sake, man. Why won't any of you ever . . ." Naruto took deep breaths to calm himself. "Ok, Just . . . stop. Think logically for a second, alright? My sensei will kill you, and then this place is doomed anyway. You're doing good right now. You're giving these people hope. Your death will break 'em."

"Hope without action, Uzumaki-san, is meaningless."

"The dead don't act," Naruto snapped. "They just lie there, rotting. And their dreams rot with 'em."

Kaiza's face eased into a grin.

"I'm a little thick in the head," he said. "I've had that said to me a thousand times, not least by my own wife . . . but I never listen."

Naruto's shoulders slumped. His protestations were half hearted— he'd had no real hope of changing this man's mind. He admitted, if only to himself, that if he were in Kaiza's shoes, he'd have done the same.

But he . . . could not leave it like this. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind that Satsuki would make good on her threat if she got to know that he had failed: so failure, however much desired in secret, was not an option.

The man surprised him by putting an arm around his shoulder.

"Walk with me, Uzumaki-san." His voice was gentle. Understanding.

The man did not wait for a response. He hobbled on ahead, and Naruto's feet led him to follow.

They left the bridge behind and wound their way through alleyways beset by decay. They were meshed in between decrepit huts and preyed on by a kaleidoscope of shadows. Every now and then the faint flicker of an oil lamp would intrude on them: then they would look in, and see poverty personified, poverty embedded in skins and meins, in emaciated frames and the protrusion of bones, and even in the soft greetings cried out, which emerged in exhausted exhalations, void of volubility, void of strength. Kaiza would return their greetings; every once in a while he halted, and exchanged a kindly word or three– professed concern, enquired about problems, gave hope where necessary, promised action where necessary. And through it all Naruto stayed in the background; blended into the dark, drew into himself and observed; observed as an outsider the sympathy this man had for his people, and the trust they bequeathed him with.

He was a lot quieter when Kaiza returned to his side. They left the alleyway, and walked towards the townsquare.

"You see, I have this belief." Kaiza stared into the distance. There was nothing authoritative about his voice— it was the voice of a tired man. "People call me mad— but over the years it's just solidified. I believe there is not one place in this world that can withstand a righteous man."

"What's that even supposed to mean?"

"It means that you may kill me, Uzumaki-san. But someone else will always take my place and continue this struggle."

"You still ain't listening." Naruto's words emerged in an odd mixture— half a laugh, half a strangled sob. "They'll burn this damn place to the ground. There ain't no struggle."

"Maybe there isn't." Here Kaiza stopped, and turned to face him. A knowing smile kindled his face. "But if, as you say, all were lost, then why kill Zori and save the girl? If you truly believe we are a people condemned, then why do it?"

"How do you know about that?"

"It's all over the town. No one talks about anything else."

A lightbulb went off in Naruto's head.

"That's why you approached me?"

Kaiza leant on his walking stick. Inclined his head in acknowledgement.

"I did not wish to," he said, "but desperation makes beggars out of the best of us. So here I am, pleading with the Shinobi hired to take my life, in the hope that there's some humanity in him."

"I can't do it. I won't do it. I won't kill you." Naruto swore, raking a hand through his hair. "Ain't gonna make any such promises about my sensei, though."

"Who is it?"

"Uchiha Satsuki."

"That's a name I haven't heard in a while." Kaiza looked troubled.

"You know her?"

"Not personally, no. I was in the audience at her chunin exam. It was, what, six, seven years ago?" Kaiza stared at the sky, recollecting something. "She made an impression. Stood out, due to how young she was. Just a child. There was something very sinister . . ." He shook his head. "She faced a genin almost a decade her senior, and tore his head clean off. There was no expression— no remorse. The memory's stayed with me. I had no idea she was a jonin now. People like that— they're either dead by ten, or a Kage by twenty one."

And that renewed Naruto's desperation.

"You sure you don't wanna negotiate?" He hated the hint of plea that entered his voice. He did not want to lose his friendship; he did not want to be responsible for this man's death and this land's ruin either.

"It's simple for me." There was a note of finality in Kaiza's voice. "I refuse to watch my people die of sickness and starvation. Till the day I have breath left in me— till the day this voice works and these hands move and this heart beats, I'll be out there, by my bridge, inspiring my people to build the gateway to their freedom. Because it's the only future left to them. To us."

And that settled that.

Naruto was forced to pick a side.

Kaiza read his thoughts.

"There's a job that needs doing," he said softly, "and we need your help with it. I leave it to you to decide if you want to come join us. But know this: without you, we will fail. We're out of time already— and you are our last hope."

"I…"

"Come with me."

The man took a left turn. Led him down a row of houses that were once posh, but that now mouldered away. Half were unoccupied; the other half had no lights, though he had a sense of being observed from behind blinds and beveled windows. The man took him to the end of the street, then threw out an arm to encompass the ruined remains of a bungalow. It was blackened and charred, and gave off an aura of being possessed by a spirit. There was a scent of ash to it— even now that scent clung to it like a lament, like cheap perfume. The walls were soot stained; the roof had caved in; the glassless windows were empty eyes staring into the void.

"This was her house," Kaiza said. He removed the paddock and pushed the gate. It grated at the hinges, then swung open with a rusted creak. Flecks of paint fell off the front, a silver shower.

Kaiza directed that he follow.

There were cavities in the burnt front door— these were fungal mouths; they emitted a sour stench that on viscid wings trekked the air and made the journey to Naruto's nostrils, there flowering, there burrowing and making him heave and retch. Kaiza covered his nose and kicked open that teakwood door, which by some miracle had survived the fire. The rest of the place wasn't as lucky: the insides were torched; dust and ash like spring rain swirled when they stepped in. The planks underfoot were fetid, and in some places gave way to stone; a snake slithered away at the patter of their feet. In the sitting room, clear despite the ash was a mammoth blotch— dried blood. A charred skull kept it company.

"And that's all that's left of her father."

Naruto did not need to be told it was Shiho that Kaiza was talking about.

Kaiza spread out his arms. Captured the room— its doom and gloom, its declivities and indents, its frozen laments, forever lost to time. At one end was a cradle, burnt and broken; at the other, the skull. Birth and death, tied together by the twine of suffering. Through the ashen stench the room seemed a coal furnace spent.

"Do we deserve to live like this?" There was quiet anger in Kaiza's voice. It simmered, but did not rise. "Are we criminals? Sinners? All we've asked for is the most basic of human dignities. We want to live freely: we want to be treated as people, not livestock. They can't even give us that."

He dropped his hands.

"The likes of Gato and those whom you serve," Kaiza said, "they're used to taking and taking. They never expect anyone to retaliate. They're bullies who see us as animals fit for only servitude and slaughter. And I'm sick of it. It's time someone stood up to them."

There was determination in his countenance. In that moment, in the shadows of that room haunted by the past and rife with its own ghosts, Naruto saw the deity everyone talked about, the righteous man akin to a God; for his eyes flamed, and his words rattled off the walls and sent up eerie echoes, all of which enhanced his message.

"Tell your mentor there will be no negotiations. We refuse to give in to a tyrant. We understand how this may end— we're just past the point of caring. What's left for us, Uzumaki-san—" and here the walls reverberated, and threw back ripples of his name, so that it felt to Naruto as though the dead were calling, the dead demanding that they be avenged; "—when our children starve and our women are openly defiled? There's terror on our streets, and the rich and the poor eat from one begging bowl. We have no choice, but to fight for the right to live. If we can't be free, then we prefer the dignity of death over prolonged suffering.

"Now, as for you, if you so desire, then you can leave this land to the inhumanity of its fate. But . . . I believe the human will can defy fate itself. So if there's even a speck of humanity left in you . . . then please, consider helping us."

A/N: The crowning irony in this scene is that Kaiza's attitude is closer to canon Naruto's, and Naruto's closer to Inari (who, as you will remember, was Kaiza's step son— Kaiza is that fisherman Gato gutted offscreen pre Wave).

I implore you to not abuse me over any percieved weaknesses in Naruto's mindset you find here: I am taking him in a very definite direction. The first six arcs of this story are set in stone; and, to put it plainly, I am not flinging shit at a wall in the hope something will stick. I know what I'm doing with Naruto; I know what I'm doing with Satsuki. I know where they go; I know what their transition points are; I know how the plot and the pairing work. I've pre-planned all these things. Whether or not you'll like it is a different matter altogether, but I've defo spent a lot of time planning this fic and preparing an outline for it.

Kaiza's is actually a character study too, albeit more brief, and constrained to this arc. He serves a very definite function. It shouldn't be too hard to guess. If the 'former' shinobi bit, in tandem with everything he said here, doesn't give away what I intend for Naruto, then maybe I need to do better as a writer.

One last point: The 'ya' I have Naruto use— he without fail drops it when he's in deep shit or a serious situation. It's meant to be a stand in for his general informality and levity. He'll more likely than not drop it in the coming arcs, unless he is being playful.