The rhythm of rain drumming on the roof of the Shinobi Archives drowned out Naruto's thoughts, even as he moved quietly through the rows of scrolls and books. The Archives were empty, aside from the custodian who cared for the knowledge preserved within. Not much of a surprise, Naruto supposed most Shinobi had far more important things to do than to trawl through musty tomes. A rare off day had offered an opportunity to find answers to questions that had been stewing for months now, and Naruto drifted from shelf to shelf, searching for clues. His father had headed out after dinner, to what he had not said, and while Naruto was not the subtlest person, discretion was part of the Shinobi skillset after all. He did not hope to find much, but anything was better than nothing. A fruitless trip to the Civilian Library had already yielded nothing but manifests of damaged goods and property, and countless obituaries mourning the lost. Information, but irrelevant. Not the kind that would help him answer the many puzzles that riddled what had transpired. His father had not mentioned a thing about the Kyubi before, even after the debacle in Wave, and the desire to know was eating him up.
'Third War... no...' He mused.
"Searching for something in particular, young man?" The elderly Librarian inquired, her faded Jonin vest all that hinted to her past in the Shinobi Corps. Naruto smiled politely, but shook his head.
"Nothing in particular, Sensei." He absently flipped through a scroll on the intricacies of elemental chakra and its interactions. The Custodian nodded, returning to her work.
Naruto waited several heartbeats, before moving on, replacing the scroll he had grabbed. Sudden doubt filled him, his resolve shaken. He had never kept a secret from his father, about anything important at least. This, this was important, and he knew he was tiptoeing about the edge of something truly significant. The Kyubi had been the single most powerful being on the face of the Elemental Nations, that much he knew, but to think that it was linked to him somehow, or even his mother? Naruto faltered, and an urge to turn back nagged at him.
A scroll grabbed his attention, and he reached out for it, curiosity winning out over caution.
'10th October Action Report'
"Naruto-kun?"
Naruto started, he hadn't sensed a thing. He turned, scroll momentarily forgotten.
"I did not take you for the bookish sort. But it is a pleasant surprise, far too many of our young forsake the lessons of the past." Sarutobi Hiruzen, Third Hokage puffed from his tobacco pipe, appraisal in his eyes.
"Hokage-sama" Naruto bowed, unsure what to say.
"Interested in the Kyubi?" The God Of Shinobi asked genially, stepping past the young Genin and taking the scroll from the shelf. He flicked through it quickly, before returning his gaze to the younger Hatake.
"A terrible night, perhaps the most terrible in the history of our village. The loss of a sitting Hokage and almost a third of the active Shinobi Corps." Naruto did not meet his Hokage's searching gaze.
He did not know what to say, after all, what could he say? To even suggest that the creature was still alive, trapped in a cage in a sewer in his head sounded insane even in his own thoughts.
"My father..." He began,
"Was there, of course. The Fourth was his Sensei after all." A grandfatherly expression came over the aging legend, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"How was it stopped?" Naruto asked, nervous prickling spreading along his neck.
"What does the Academy teach?" Sarutobi took another puff from his pipe, and subtly leaned forward. Naruto took an involuntary step back. It seemed that the weathered Hokage, bent by age and the burdens of a village towered over him in the shadows of the library.
"It was defeated by the Fourth." Naruto answered, feeling very small.
"And you don't believe what they say?" Hiruzen eyes grew keen, probing.
"How could he? He was just a man." Naruto stammered, heat rising in his cheeks.
"Do not underestimate men, Naruto-kun. The Sage was a man, was he not? But he subdued even the Juubi. Is it so hard to believe that the Fourth defeated the beast?" The question was rhetorical, Naruto knew. But a fierce defiance rose up in him, and he finally lifted his face, meeting his Kage's gaze.
"Defeated yes, but destroyed?"
Lightning flashed, for a moment illuminating Sai's kneeling form. His room was neat, but spartan. His fatigues lay neatly folded over his set of weapons, and the only decoration was a painting of a tree. Monochromatic, it was shaded in pencil, a tall Konohan hardwood standing defiantly against all the world could throw at it.
Sai did not move, breathing shallow. A less perceptive observer might have thought him asleep, but Danzo knew better.
"Report, Seven."
Sai raised his head, but his eyes remained fixed on the floor before his Master.
"Progress has been made, Danzo-sama. Gaining their trust has been easy."
"The asset?"
"Naruto-san's growth has been astounding, Danzo-sama. He may surpass his father in time. If my current evaluation is accurate, he will be an S-ranked threat before his sixteenth birthday."
"and the Kyubi?"
"Since Wave, there have been no incidents."
Danzo nodded carefully, expression never changing.
"His loyalty?"
"Unquestionable."
"Your performance has been satisfactory. Is your conditioning intact?"
"I believe so, Danzo-sama."
"Ensure it remains that way. You will have no opportunity for reprogramming."
Sai did not reply, nor did he feel the need to.
"You are one of my most valuable assets, Seven. I need not repeat the importance of your mission. The Hatake boy will be the future of the Village, for good or ill. Your mission parameters are hereby changed. You will protect him, at all costs. Understand?"
"Hai, Danzo-sama."
The old warhawk allowed himself a moment of sentimentality. Sakumo had been a failure. Had he pushed through with his mission, Iwa would have been set back generations. But now, twenty years after his death, his grandson would lead Konoha to greatness, to supremacy. No doubt the boy was a idealist, a naive fool, more like Hiruzen than himself. But there was a place for idealism, for foolishness. This, Danzo knew. He would never be Hokage. That dream had died an age ago on a battlefield that no longer existed. But it mattered not. It was said that the Village prospered when old men planted trees whose shade they would never sit under. Danzo would not plant a tree, but he would bury a thousand bodies, that their blood would nourish a forest.
Lightning flashed once more, and the old man was gone from the room. Sai rose to his feet, feeling the ache in his legs from kneeling for so long, and turned back to the painting that hung on his wall. Danzo had not mentioned it, but Sai knew that he had not missed its presence.
Art, an expression of individuality, a refuge for the spirit that been broken before he could talk.
A boy, shaded in grey, sat under the tree, pen and pad in hand.
The Root operative allowed himself to indulge in his weakness. He had lied to his master, of course. He knew his conditioning was failing. It had begun to fail the day he had met the boisterous young Hatake and the graceful Hyuuga heiress. Something in him, long repressed had responded to the kindness, to the love they had shown him. Sai had no illusions that Danzo was aware of his minuscule rebellion, but something had stayed his Master's hand.
The pale Genin found his resolve strengthened. A true Shinobi never allowed emotions to cloud their judgement, to affect the mission. But just this once, maybe Sai would be a little less of a true Shinobi, and be a little more of a thirteen year old boy.
Hinata loved the rain. The rumble of thunder in the distance, the flashes of lightning the split the heavens, the dull noise that the droplets made as they cascaded from the tiered roofs of her clan home. It reminded her of happier times, when her mother still lived and the thunder would drive her into her arms, afraid and trembling. It was odd, she knew, but she loved evenings like these all the same. She had spent the day in peaceful solitude, caring for the blossoms that now endured the downpour in her mother's gardens. The rain had driven her indoors, where she remained. Dinner had been uneventful, and now she simply sat in one of the many courtyards that dotted the Hyuga compound, happy to admire the many paintings and sculptures that adorned her surroundings. Each had a story, she knew, and one day maybe her own work would line one of the hallways or living spaces. This was her home, and one day she would be Head here.
There was a time that thought had almost crushed her, had kept her awake at night and filled her waking moments with dread. Shy, weak, gentle Hinata, how could such a feeble girl wear the mantle of the Hyuga clan? She remembered the looks that they had sent her, those elders, the many branch members. She recalled the disdain with which Neji had dismissed her request for help with improving at the Gentle Fist. Most of all, she could still see the disappointment on her Father's face, his unspoken admonishment each time she did not live up to his expectations. A smile touched her lips. How different she was now. Nobody could dispute that now. Neji's bruises and limp was proof enough that she was far from the weak girl that had crumbled in the face of adversity.
"Daughter."
Her head turned, before she rose to her feet gracefully, dipping her head in acknowledgment of her sire.
"Tou-sama. Are you well? I looked for you at dinner, but you were absent."
"An urgent matter surfaced that required my attention, but no matter, it concerns you not. Come, sit."
Hinata returned to her previous position, but sat straighter in the presence of her father. Hiashi sat across her, but said no more. Hinata did not mind the silence, content to allow her father the initiative.
"I heard that you defeated Neji."
"It was a draw, Father."
"A mercy you allowed for his pride." Hiashi still did not look at her.
"Neji-kun would not admit defeat."
"No Hyuuga would, willingly."
"Should I have incapacitated him?" Hinata almost raised her brow.
"If it was within your ability."
"Then I will confess it was not." Hinata's voice was soft, but it was not weak. Hiashi turned now, fixing his steely gaze upon his heiress.
"Mercy is not becoming of a Shinobi."
"He was not an enemy, Tou-sama." Hinata met her father's scrutiny, a hint of challenge entering her voice now.
Hiashi drew himself up, and Hinata braced herself for the rebuke that was sure to come. To her surprise, her father deflated, shoulders slumping for a moment. A staggering show of emotion, for a Hyuuga at least.
"Tou-sama?" She began
"I am afraid, Hinata."
The admission rocked Hinata's world. Her Father? Afraid? Now that was a word she had never linked with the stoic, proud man that lead the greatest clan in Konoha.
"Things are moving in the world. The balance of power on the continent has never been more equal. Parity breeds rivalry, rivalry breeds challenge, and challenge catastrophe. Would it be that I would shoulder these burdens for you, but you are my heiress, not just my daughter. War is coming. You must be ready."
Hinata was silent, lost for words. Was this her father speaking? Hiashi eyes did not falter.
"I was harsh on you. Perhaps too harsh, but you have risen beyond that. Your strength does me proud, but it casts a spotlight on you that you cannot run away from. It is a paradox, the life of a ninja. The stronger one becomes, the stronger one must be to survive. Stronger and stronger until none can threaten you and you stand alone atop a mountain of corpses."
"Not alone, Tou-sama." Hinata found her courage, and remembered the messy mop of blonde hair that had dragged her from the water and saved her life.
"Perhaps."
There was a pregnant silence now. Hinata still reeling from her father's sudden outpouring of emotion, and Hiashi deep in contemplation.
"I once considered betrothing you to the Uchiha heir." Hinata did not react, but her heart fluttered.
"An alliance with the Uchiha, imagine that. They are gone to dust now, and all their vaunted prestige and pride with them. The Hatake boy would be a fine alternative. Strength is a good substitute for political power."
"Tou-sama!" Hinata finally showed emotion, spluttering in indignation.
"You do not fancy him?" Hiashi now raised an eyebrow, mildly amused by his daughter's reaction.
"He... We're friends." Hinata answered firmly.
"Of course you are. That has no bearing on marriage. We had exchanged less than a dozen words before our wedding, your mother and I."
Hinata refused to give her father any more enjoyment, turning away and fixing her eyes squarely on the falling rain.
"I am speaking to you, Hinata."
"And I am ignoring you, Tou-sama."
"It is not a laughing matter. Soon you will be able to bear children, and..."
"If you finish that sentence I will be leaving to supervise Hanabi's kanji practice, Tou-sama." Hinata ignored the blush spreading across her cheeks.
Hiashi paused, sensing danger.
"We will continue this at a latter date." He finished lamely.
Hinata stood, but allowed a small smile to come to her lips
"Okaa-sama is laughing at you, wherever she is now." Hinata almost giggled.
Hiashi came to his feet as well, and for the first time since his beloved wife had passed away, an unbidden smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"I miss her, you know." His voice was still perfectly composed, but his words told Hinata all she needed to know.
"As do I, Tou-sama."
Hiruzen took another long drag from the pipe perched between his lips.
"Do not ask questions you would not like answered, Naruto-kun. Some mysteries are best left to history." The septuagenarian placed a grandfatherly hand on the young Hatake's shoulder.
Naruto grimaced, the words dragging forth an unwanted memory. It had said those same words, whatever the thing in the cage was. But he had to know, if only to find some connection to his mother.
Naruto gathered his wits about him, and prepared to question the old man again, but before he could, the Third Hokage turned away.
"It is getting late, you should return home. Kakashi will be worried."
Naruto started, but groaned as he realized the time. The Sandaime was right, if his father returned and found him out of the home he would ask questions, and that was the last thing he needed.
"Hai, thank you, Hokage-sama."
"You are most welcome, Naruto-kun." Hiruzen's eyes glimmered.
Naruto left the building, quickly making his way home.
Hiruzen turned his attention to the scroll he held, even as he slowly made his way out of the library.
"I will be borrowing this scroll indefinitely, Sensei." Sarutobi nodded to the Librarian, who bowed deeply.
"Your pleasure, Hokage-sama." She knew better than to question the God of Shinobi.
"You must speak to him, Kakashi. He is no longer a child." Hiruzen spoke tiredly, the brim of his hat shadowing his aged face.
Kakashi sat across from his liege, deep in thought.
"The incident in Wave has destroyed any chance you have of keeping this secret. You must tell him, and soon." Hiruzen reiterated.
"And tell him that he is not my son? That his life has been a lie?" Kakashi's words were ragged with emotion.
"That is not true. Naruto-kun is no immature boy, he knows better. As long as you tell him, he will understand."
Kakashi warred with himself. He was afraid, afraid of losing his boy, afraid of losing the life he had been given.
"If he finds out the truth, he will not understand why you kept this from him. If you tell him, he will know that you had his best interests at heart." Sarutobi urged the younger man.
"The Chunin exams. I will tell him then."
"Before or after?"
"After. When he has earned his vest."
Kakashi continued to drill a hole in the floor with his eye, drowning in an ocean of anxiety and doubt.
"I share your confidence that he will not fail. But I fear it may be too late."
"He must not be distracted. He will need every bit of resolve to prevail."
The Third Hokage grimaced, leaning back into his chair.
"It is less than a month from now. I'll keep him busy, too busy to do any more snooping."
Kakashi was talking more to himself now than to his Kage, and Sarutobi puffed away at his pipe, allowing the man time to find his balance.
"I will take this as your endorsement of your squad for the exams."
"Huh? Oh, of course. I will tell them tomorrow." Kakashi murmured, still deep in his thoughts.
Sarutobi sighed. Such a terrible burden borne by a man who had already gone through so much. He was strong however, and Hiruzen had faith in him. He would endure, and he would overcome.
Thunder boomed, cutting through the downpour that inundated the streets of Konoha. Rain was rare in Fire Country, let alone a thunderstorm of this strength. Flashes of lightning split the sky, illuminating the weathered monument. The Hatake Clan Compound had lain untouched for the better part of two decades, undisturbed since its last scion had abandoned it. Kakashi knelt in the middle of the dojo, allowing his mind to wander. The irony, that he would return to this place in the midst of his turmoil wracked his spirit.
He turned his mind away from those dark thoughts, focusing on the blade that lay on the stand before him. It gleamed in the reflected candlelight, ivory white, purer than snow. His father's blade, a ghost, mocking him, reminding him of happier days. It was famous, perhaps the most of any weapon still in the village. The Nidaime's chakra blade had been feared, Madara's fan hated, but one was stolen and the other destroyed. Of the terrible Grass-Cutter, nothing more needed to be spoken. Kakashi snorted, it seemed famous men with famous swords came to ignoble ends. Just like his father.
His hands curled into fists, and an odd feeling twisted in his chest. It wasn't bitterness or anger, no, he was well acquainted with the pain they brought. He stood, and with a flourish he drew the blade from its rest, feeling its weight. It was lighter than he thought. It pulled at him, seals written generations ago by masters of the art long dead and forgotten pulsing with warmth and life, responding to the taste of his chakra. He resisted, cutting off the flow of chakra, holding the blade at length. Had it truly been twenty years since the blade had last been used? Its edge was sharp, Kakashi noted, sharper than any regulation blade, and its metal untarnished.
He swung, and the blade parted air like flesh. It felt right in his hands, like an extension of himself. Kakashi moved slowly, deliberately, allowing the sword to guide him. It tugged at his chakra again, like an expectant child, but the Jonin refused.
How many lives had this blade taken? Dozens? Hundreds? The lily-white metal was soaked in the blood of men, its legend forged in battle and murder. Sakumo Hatake had been a good man, but a better shinobi, this Kakashi knew too well. Rage welled up in his chest, sudden and violent, and the Copy-nin blurred into motion. His gravity seals were off, and he was not sparring with children. He moved with a ferocious certainty of purpose, the sword in his hand filling him with a burning desire to destroy. The training dummy in the center of the dojo never stood a chance, annihilated in three swings. Eye closed, Kakashi pivoted, removing the head of an imagined enemy before driving the blade through the heart of another. Faster and faster he moved, mowing down dozens of enemies now, each one a face he recalled all too well. He was on the bridge again, like the nightmares of his past, but this time he was not a child. Iwa nin fell like wheat before a scythe, and he stormed onwards, reaping a bloody reckoning. He heard their voices, heard her cries, but they were whispers in the wind. His bladework grew more and more violent, slashing wildly at phantoms that mocked him for his guilt. Sweat dripped down his brow but he gave no pause, striking with malicious abandon. The blade screamed for him, the gentle tugging now a surging current that drew him in, and Kakashi yielded, allowing his chakra to flood and fill the blade. Shadows parted, darkness banished by an incandescent streak of manifested chakra that dazzled the eye. Like a thunderflash it lit up the dojo, and brought the rampaging Hatake to a standstill.
Midstroke he poised, feeling more than hearing the dull thrum of the now active sword. His eye fixed on the tip of the sword, the same tip he watched driven through his father's body, the same tip that had ripped his innocence away. The rage was gone now, leaving an empty void in his chest, an ache long forgotten but present all the same, like the scab torn off an old wound.
He hated this sword. He hated everything it meant and everything it had done. It was as much his father's legacy as it was his father's failure, a reminder that for the Shinobi that had sired him, honor had meant more than love. The sword had taken his father from him, and he had spent thirteen years running from its shade. But it seemed that everything was catching up to him now, the lies and the half-truths, the deceit that he had woven for love. Could he have done things differently? Should he have told Naruto earlier? Should he have told him from the start? Would it have made a difference? Self-loathing began to fill him. It seemed so simple now, to tell the truth. But lies had snowballed into other lies, he had kicked the proverbial can so far down the road, and now he could not see a way to confess his sins.
"Promise me, little scarecrow"
His Sensei's words echoed in his mind, and a promise he had almost forgotten came back unbidden. He knew now, it mattered not how he felt, only that he honored his word and protected his Sensei's son.
He would be better, he would be more. Kakashi knelt, replacing the blade upon its stand in the center of the Hatake Dojo. The rain continued to fall, a drumming on the roof of his home that filled him with resolve now.
He would keep his promises.
"I've nominated the three of you for the Chunin exams." Kakashi did not waste words.
"Come again?" Naruto spluttered, ramen still hanging from his mouth. Hinata quickly admonished him about talking with his mouth full.
"You heard me. The three of you are more than ready. The Exams start in three weeks time, and I expect that the three of you to pass." Kakashi eye smiled at them.
Sai was contemplative, Hinata composed, and Naruto, well he was Naruto.
"LETS GO!" The boisterous blonde rocketed from his chair, excitement palpable.
"Naruto-kun, please. There are others eating." Hinata nagged.
"Yea? Well they can eat all they want, Imma make Chunin in a month's time, so damn right I'm excited." Naruto eye-grinned, if that was possible.
"It seemed today's training was inadequate, Sensei. Naruto-san seems barely winded." Sai deadpanned.
The sunset in Konoha was its usual breathtaking spectacle, the blazing radiance of the sun descending behind the Hokage Monument. Light shone on streets still wet from the night's downpour, the darkness and storm easily forgotten.
Kakashi leaned back into his chair, savoring the chatter between his students.
They would be ready, most definitely.
A/N
Another chapter done, and one a little less focused on plot but character. Getting to explore the minds of our protagonists has been a learning exercise for me, and I will admit I indulged a little in the angst. Melancholy and internal conflict is something that fascinates me, and I confess I may have gotten carried away, but nonetheless once the focus of the future chapters shifts to plot rather than character things will move far more quickly.
The Chunin exams are coming, bringing with it massive changes, and I'm relishing writing the action ahead. I hope that the Fic is still interesting, and that things are moving at not too slow of a pace.
As always, read and review!
Cheers.