Lauren's Story Arc
Zyaku coughed blood into the stream. Her eyes, swelled and aching, watched it swirl beneath the current, thinning out, paling, until it was swept into the forest's border.
A hand at her shoulder caused her to inhale sharply. Pulling her feet away from the slippery riverbed, Zyaku turned her eyes on a battered Nakasone Hiroshi. She averted her gaze.
"It's moving east." Hiroshi's voice cracked against the smooth September sunset. Noting her brusque silence, he pulled his hand from her shoulder, saying, "Why don't you check in at the med tent?" His eyebrows collided in an expression of concern as he waited.
Zyaku ran the back of her hand across her mouth. Just as she parted her lips, a prodigious quake jolted the air.
Her poised hand fell from her mouth. Birds took flight, chattering and twittering, from a tree nearby.
"Chikusho." The sable-haired Jounin swore under her breath. Glancing to her left, she saw Hiroshi's dark eyes flash disappointment and anxiety before becoming frigid. "Alert Ishida," he murmured, voice straining above the earth's rapid convulsions, and Zyaku nodded. Anticipation ran in and out of her body, like electricity through her limbs, both agitating and intoxicating. Tugging out a kunai, she felt it's familiar coolness press against her palm as she slipped into the nearest tree, pushing her way further into the overgrowth.
Through the thinning canopies, her eyes caught on a lick of flame.
So it's going east, she thought, glancing toward the bleak, white moon hanging high above her head. Beneath it, heavy curls of smoking dissipated into the sky. Konoha, she breathed. It's had its eyes on Konoha all along.Her heart bruised itself against her chest. No wonder Hiroshi had been so tense.
The earthquakes were becoming more massive, more frequent, and Zyaku found herself grinding her sandals into every tree branch she alighted on in an attempted to remain above ground. Such power… she doubted whether the Leaf had ever faced such a fitting opponent. Weary and enervated as she was, Zyaku still held high regards for her teammates's capabilities. These ninja would rather be cut to pieces than see their country fail.
Her grip tightened around the kunai. A feeble scream pulsed in her ears.
Raking to a halt, Zyaku perched herself on a thinning tree branch. Her gaze scanned the area. It was then, now completely stopped and aware of her surroundings, that Zyaku took full measure of the opponent they faced. A flick of red ― heat in her face ― a foul smell, like corroded flesh. A fresh burst of tremors caused her to alight on another tree branch just as the one she had been standing on snapped and fell to the forest floor. There was no mistaking it this time.
Through the smoking piles of foliage and timber emanated the vast form of a flaming beast. Explosions of red and hot orange, too blinding to view but like a magnet nonetheless, filled the clearing, snaking into the farthest corners, both heavy and ashen. Plumy, smoldering tails arched over the beast's back, feeding off curls of smoke into the graying sky. And as though the whole race was watching, a silence seemed to blanket the scene, timeless and undisturbed.
Air hissed in through the beast's jaws, and an earsplitting roar flayed the radius.
Shrieking violently, Zyaku snapped back into reality just as her head cracked against stone. Rocks protruded into her back, and she writhed slightly, moaning from the momentum at which she had fallen. Chest constricting, she attempted to fill her seizing lungs with precious oxygen, but all she could focus on was the loud rumbling of the clearing, or the piercing light that meant oncoming flames.
After what seemed to be hours, Zyaku felt a bleak sensation of relax hug her sides, and she allowed her eyelids hover closed over her stinging eyes. Trees trunks cracked. Flames hissed. Men screamed.
And then there was silence.
There is nothing more pleasing than Konohagakure in the autumn time. Crops are planted; shops are restocked. Streets, silent without the rampage of children, are host to women sweeping out their spouse's stores and old men bent over their chess games. Trees shake off their prior growth ― stray animals slumber beneath park benches.
The mortuaries are emptied.
Sarutobi crested the hill, loosely clasping his hands behind his back. As expected, she was here. His eyes followed her tense shoulders and flexing fingers to the lengthy monument she stood before. His sigh made his presence known.
Her eyes, focused and tearless, glanced over her shoulder. "Sarutobi-sama, I didn't…"
Sarutobi frowned, wishing he had the familiar form of his pipe to bite onto. "I thought," he began, a growl in his throat, "you promised me you would let it go."
Her eyebrows lowered to meet her eyes. "I had to settle something," she murmured. She seemed to stand a little straighter.
Sarutobi grimaced for a moment, but found he couldn't hold the expression for long. He let his features soften slightly. "I understand, Tsuzume," he allowed, coming to a halt beside her. His gaze took in the full meaning of the dusty monument ― its solidity, strength… purpose. He reached out and cleared a few stray leaves from the surface, following the fissures with his index fingers.
When he pulled his hand away, the name Yondaime glinted beneath the weak autumnal sunlight.
"It so strange that he's gone," said Zyaku, ignoring the letters glaring across her face. "Konoha needs a Hokage…"
She didn't neglect Sarutobi's bristle. "Hm," the old man grunted, restlessly crossing his arms. "And they'll get one, I'm sure."
Zyaku stared at him.
The wrinkles around the old man's forehead seemed to deepen as he sighed. Speaking through closed eyes, he said, "The council has requested that I take up the position of Hokage once more."
"Oh." The yellow-eyed kunoichi scanned the elder's face. It didn't make sense.
His lip curled slightly. "You look disappointed," he declared before chuckling absently. "Yes, they have failed to find any eligible candidates besides myself. It seems I am stuck in this job until my time comes."
"Mm." Sarutobi's eyes flicked open as he glanced at the Jounin. "Konoha's lucky, then," she said.
The once-Hokage's eyebrows disappeared into his hair. "And I'm supposing you want something?" he guessed, once again missing the familiar shape of his pipe between his teeth. He noted Zyaku's set features and slight nod.
"I would like to be assigned a Genin team, Sarutobi-sama."
Old Sarutobi turned to face to the drowsy noonday sun. With a curve of the mouth, he said, "That's Hokage-sama to you."
Zyaku yanked her shuriken from the core of a tree. Her mind was at a high. Today, December the third, she would meet the students of her very first team.
She circled the star-shaped flat around her index finger and stashed it in her belt. The weather was crisper, chillier, than on standard ― not exactly supreme fighting conditions, but she was interested in seeing how her Genin handled it. As far as she knew, they were substandard among the Konoha Genin ― something she had mentioned to the Hokage herself. Zyaku wasn't exactly certain why her heart had been so set on the request, but Sarutobi had not pressed for answers.
Maybe he understood her reasoning.
She glanced across the dead glade. A few gray leaves clung to trees, but otherwise there was no undergrowth to hide behind. It would be difficult for the Genin, indeed.
Zyaku glanced up as the crunch of approaching footsteps filled the clearing. A wave of red ducked into the radius.
It was her first student: a wiry, red-haired boy with paint on his cheeks. Behind him padded a spotted dog, stiffing the dirt profusely.
Zyaku smiled. "An Inuzuka, are you?"
The boy's lip curl, revealing devilishly pointed teeth.
Zyaku's head fell into a slight nod. She opened her mouth to ask his name, but another figure ambled into the clearing, close behind him.
It was a thin girl with a head of pale, cropped hair. Setting her features in vague annoyance, the child dipped into a bow, murmuring, "Please excuse my tardiness, sensei." She rose and shot the boy a glance.
"I'd hardly say 'late,'" said Zyaku, glancing at the sun's position in the sky. She eyed the two. "Where's the last one?"
The Inuzuka boy snickered, and Zyaku felt her eyebrows rise into her hairline. Her arms crossed themselves over her chest.
The boy grimaced. "He knew I was just kidding," he muttered. After a moment, a sigh blew past his lips, and then he grinned slightly. Extending a bandaged wrist, he pointed.
Zyaku glanced over her shoulder.
Behind her stood her last student ― a respectable-looking boy clad in a black turtleneck. His long, ebony hair was secured in a ponytail, evenly centered in the back of his head. Eyes lidded, he slowly lifted his arm into plain view.
Between his two fingers dangled Zyaku's hitai-ate.
Lifting open his eyes, the boy ― Nakata Mamoru, as she later found out ― tossed the forehead protector back to his sensei. "Please don't underestimate us," he quietly requested.
Zyaku stared down at the hitai-ate in her hand. Then she tied it tightly around her forehead. Eyes softening, she nodded once. "Right."
The Third Hokage tapped his pipe against the desk. "Good! Good," he exclaimed, smoothing his rough fingers against the glossy grains of the wood. "It sounds like your Chuunin team is progressing well. I'll be sure to notify their parents."
Zyaku inclined her head, ridiculously pleased. Her students were enthusiastic to learn, though it different ways, and complimented each other to an impressive extent. She couldn't help but feel content with their advancement.
Her thoughts were jarred by a crying sound in the corner of the office.
The snowy-haired Hokage grunted, pressing his palms against his desk in leverage to stand. Zyaku followed him as he leaned over the child's crib and dangled his fingers off the surface's edge.
"I was able to find a foster mother to care for him these two months since the attacks, but she was forced to return him on account of her own son." The Hokage sighed, beckoning Zyaku to come closer. She peered over the edge.
Tangled among a mess of blankets lay a rotund, pink-skinned baby. It cried out harshly, tugging on the Hokage's finger, and Zyaku felt a strange sensation provide warmth to her chest. She glanced at the frowning man.
"And no one's willing to take him in? No mothers or childless woman?"
The Hokage's eyes burned dully into the child's face. "It is a large mouthful to swallow." The old man's lip edged upward. "However, I'm sure time will mend whatever strains the village may be harboring."
Zyaku gazed down at the baby's head of yellow hair. "And the demon fox?" she ventured.
The Hokage's fingers snaked beneath the trundled blanket, pulling it down just enough to reveal a curving, spiraling mass of symbols. "Sealed away for as long as the boy can manage," he murmured. After a pause, he glanced up, drawing his hand away as the child yawned and stilled. A rare smile tugged at his mouth. "But this boy is going to be deemed a hero in Konoha. I'm sure of it."
"I envy him," Zyaku said, running her fingers along the rim of the crib. She glanced at the white-haired man and asked, "What is his name?"
The Third Hokage lifted the blanket up to the baby's chin and sighed. "Naruto," he said, and he smiled once more. "Uzumaki Naruto."
Note: Soulnova's character used with permission.